ribbon spools

New Addition

Originally posted by castielamigos

Pairing: Chuck x Reader
Word count: 657

Chuck & Gabriel Appreciation Week

It had been only a few weeks since you’d moved in with Chuck, both of you joining your lives together in a little house. Renting a house was different, but it made things seem so much more real. You got to wake up next to him, you ate across from him, you watched lame tv with him, and you never had to say you had to get home because you worked in the morning.

To you, it was a home. Nothing was missing at the moment, and you felt you couldn’t ask for more. Apparently, Chuck felt differently. While he knew that the two of you weren’t near marriage or children, he did want to bring a little something more to the home you shared, and a way to spread the love.

It was the first dreary day since you’d been in your new home, and took the chance to have a lazy day. After a relaxing morning of sipping hot tea and reading with Chuck, you decided a nap was just what you needed. “I’m going to nap, babe. Coming?” You held out your hand.

He gave you that heart stopping smile. “Actually, I have a few things I’d like to get done while you nap. So when you get up, I’m home and we can do something.” Chuck told you.

“Okay.” You smiled, leaning over and pecking his lips. “Come up if you change your mind.”

“I will.” He assured you, watching you head up the stairs. Once he heard the bedroom door shut, he slipped on his sneakers and grabbed his keys. He hoped that he would have things ready for when you woke up. It would just be nicer that way.

His first stop was the pet store. Chuck wanted each purchase to be just right, meaning it took him a bit to pick everything out. He wound up with cat food, a food and water dish, a litter box, the litter, a cat tower, a cute collar, and a copious amount of cat toys. He didn’t even blink at the total, as that wasn’t what was important to him.

Once he had that all in his trunk, he went to the craft store, buying a small spool of ribbon in your favorite color, wanting to fashion a bow of some type on whatever feline he adopted.

In the remainder of his trip, he bought you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, your favorite takeout for dinner, and finally, the newest addition to your family. It was the smallest one there, and the volunteer said that it would take work to get the little guy into perfect health. He had only been there about a day, so they hadn’t even had much time to help. Smiling, Chuck picked him out, and made an appointment that the shelter partnered with. This way the two of you could get him healthy, and thriving.

The smell of your favorite take out slowly woke you up, wondering what Chuck was up to. Sitting up, you stretched and yawned. You pushed back the blankets and slid out of bed, heading for the bedroom door.

When you reached downstairs, you raised an eyebrow. “Chuck?” You asked, wondering what all the bags were.

He turned, his eyes lighting up. “I got you something.” Chuck said happily. You watched him as he turned and scooped something up from behind him. As he turned, you heard the tiniest ‘meow’ ever. “This little guy needs us, and I thought that we could use a little more love around here.” He gently stroked the kitten’s head.

“He’s so tiny.” You breathed, moving closer. “What’s his name?” Your eyes went to Chuck’s.

“Whatever you want it to be.” He told you, letting you take the tiny creature.

You cradled him against your chest, tearing up and how precious he was. “We’ll figure that out later. For now, let’s just get him settled in.”

Keep reading

garnetquyen  asked:

flower AU thing is up haha ajhfgadkhgh enjoy, my slime!

THANK YOU SO MUCH Q! <3 for those of you just joining us, this is an AU of my and @ikeracity‘s mob boss AU The Associates (here on AO3) where instead of a professor, Charles is a veterinarian. ;)

Part One Art | Part One Ficlet | Part Two Art

Part Two Ficlet:

The bell over the door to the flower shop jingles softly as Erik pushes open the door to the flower shop, greeted by a strong blast of the scent of freshly cut flowers. Every inch of space of the tiny shop is covered by bright blooms in every color, shape, and size, some categorized by species but others carefully displayed in artful arrangements. It’s perfect.

“Welcome to Jubilee’s Fresh Flowers, sir!” the young girl behind the counter chirps as he approaches, the nametag on her apron naming her Jubilee herself. “What can I help you with?”

Erik lets his gaze slide slowly across the bright spools of ribbons on the wall behind her, next to a display of cards with themes ranging from condolences to happy-birthdays to I-love-yous, before finally settling on Jubilee, who waits patiently, still smiling. “Hello. Are you proficient in flower language?”

“Of course,” Jubilee answers, brightening, “definitely. We can arrange a bouquet to take on any special meaning you’d like.”

Erik grins. “Excellent.” He brings his hand out of the pocket of his coat, slapping a crisp $100 bill down on the counter. “I want something that says ‘I want to date you, and I promise endless nights of fucking.’”

“Sir?” Jubilee says, some of her cheer faltering as she’s somewhat taken aback by his directness. Erik is used to that kind of response, and luckily he knows the solution to it.

Still grinning, Erik slides the $100 bill sideways with two fingers, fanning out the other four bills stacked beneath it so Jubilee can see all $500 on the counter in front of her. “Keep the change.”

Keep reading

Christmas Traditions

A little drabble for the upcoming holidays. 

Rating: sugary sweet christmas cookie

This feeling of excitement for the holiday season was quite foreign for her. Having grown up in the system, she learned it was better to keep her expectations low- to treat it like it was just another day because sometimes that’s what it ended up being. 

But it’s their first Christmas in their new home and after all they had been through- being the Dark Ones, the Underworld, the vision, Killian’s long lost second brother returning, the wish realm, returning back to Storybrooke, defeating Gideon- they deserved to celebrate dammnit

So she enlisted the two best elves of Storybrooke- her son and her mother. And both agreed- it was time to turn Storybrooke into a Christmas wonderland. With her magic and her Christmas taskforce (Henry and her mother), the town was transformed. 

Every street lamp had some garland and holly wrapped around it. Glittered papered snowflakes hung in the store windows. Granny’s jukebox was now playing Have yourself a very merry christmas. The sheriff’s office even had some holiday spirit with a Christmas tree in the corner. 

Her son took on the responsibility of teaching everyone in the town the different traditions of this realm and everyone was on board, surprisingly even Grumpy. He got Granny to even host a breakfast with Santa as it got closer to Christmas, and they all had to persuade Grumpy that he simply wouldn’t be the right fit (whew dodged a bullet there). 

She invited her parents and brother over and they made Christmas cookies and it was exactly what she used to dream of when she would go to sleep every night before Christmas, wishing for a family. But now she had it, and she knew that it was possible for dreams to come true. Her father sneaking cookie batter when he didn’t think her mother was looking. Her son going overboard with the sprinkles so that the sprinkle to cookie ratio was way off. And she just sat back and watched it all happily sipping the spiked eggnog, courtesy of her Killian. 

Killian’s fascination and excitement with Christmas surprised her. At first she thought he was all for it because it made Henry and her happy, but soon she began to see that her pirate wasn’t really a grinch, but rather a Christmas elf in disguise. 

Christmas caroling- he would sing the loudest. (she attributed that to the rum)

He spiked the eggnog. He spiked the hot chocolate. 

He loved candy canes. (though she thought his appreciation for the candy was more due to her reaction whenever she saw him eating one. He would trace his lips, relishing in the sweet mint that was left behind. The dye from the candy leaving his lips even a darker red than their usual color, enticing her to kiss him- even more so than usual)

He was heavily amused over the naughty versus the nice list, (proclaiming to her that of course he would end up on the nice list before he would kick the door shut to their bedroom and tackle her onto their bed)

He was a great help when it came to wrapping presents-his hook would hold spools of ribbon and tape. 

And once he learned that it was simply tradition to kiss under mistletoe, it became his favorite tradition and so he hung it everywhere. He would tease her that she no longer had an excuse to not kiss him (not that she ever did, to begin with).  Above every doorway in their home, he smiled cheekily, as he dipped her backwards, his good hand and hook wrapped around her waist, to place a kiss on her lips. 

Her father would groan, her mother would cheer, and her son would laugh. 

She might have to agree with Killian- mistletoe was quickly becoming one of her favorite Christmas traditions. 

*Tagging my lovely christmas elves: @killianswaan, @iknowwearesoconnected, @potentialheartofdarkness, @stunningcaptainswan, @captain-swan-love.

Waiting Game

for: Danielle @harrystylesinwonderland
by: Nicki @inkoasis

Stella works at a flower shop in London and Harry just wants to know her.

An AU about flowers, chance meetings and moving on.

word count: 5,043
warnings: language
main pairing: Harry Styles/OFC

The first time Harry goes into The Watering Can, he’s looking for something for his sister and her new baby. The woman behind the counter is busy talking with a middle-aged man so he goes to the cooler to look through the arrangements, only slightly wincing at the price tags that accompany them. He’s just reaching for a vase of roses when the click of heels has him looking over his shoulder.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

*breathes heavily* Yeeessss it's open! Since Valentines Day is coming up, can we have a scenario where the reader has a major crush on Bokuto and Akaashi (yes, owl babies...) and they decide to make chocolate and confess on Valentine's Day? Also the reader isn't crushing on them the same time (well they could but...up to you XP) in case the wording of that request might have confused you :3

Your phone buzzed on the countertop, and you set down the piping bag to answer it. Bokuto’s name flashed in the caller ID.


“(Name)! Why are you still awake??”

You laughed. “Says the one who’s calling me. It’s only,” you glanced at the clock, “three in the morning… Oh.”

You looked at your work on the kitchen island: various piping bags filled with chocolate icing, a tray of half-decorated truffles, a spool of ribbon and cellophane bags to put the sweets in. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed, but now that you knew, you were starting to notice how your knees ached, how your eyelids felt heavy. 

“I was reading,” you fibbed. “But more importantly, why are you calling me at this time?”

“Uhhh… To check… just checking up on you! ‘Night(Name)seeyoutomorrow!” Click.

You pulled the phone back and looked at the end-call screen, bewildered. On the other hand, this kind of behavior from Bokuto wasn’t anything too unusual. He seemed to be doing this lately: calling you at ungodly times for no apparent reason and then hanging up really fast. 

With Bokuto, this could mean a number of things, so you just shrugged it off and continued to work on the truffles late into the night.

Keep reading


Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, »Ain’t No Mountain High Enough«


The first thing we see in Guardians of the Galaxy is a Walkman, settled in the lap of a boy in a hospital hallway, watching the ribbon pass from spool to spool on a tape labeled: Awesome Mix Vol. 1. The second thing we see is the boy’s mother, a cancer patient, dying after giving him a present concealed in bright, cheerful wrapping paper tied with a blue bow. The third thing is the boy being abducted by aliens. This is an efficient introduction to what the film is about: family, loss, spaceships. And music.

Twenty-six years later, the boy–Peter Quill is his name–is an adult, your standard lone wolf space outlaw, making money and enemies as he scours the galaxy for hot chicks and cool finds. He has not for quite some time been the boy we met in the opening scene, who picked fights with boys torturing helpless animals over the sheer injustice of it. He still hasn’t opened his mother’s last gift. He’s still listening to Awesome Mix Vol. 1. It has become a very literal soundtrack of his life, a dozen or so songs which have not lost their magic in treks between planets or explorations of desolate moons. That song belongs to me, he protests futilely as an indifferent prison guard cues up Hooked On A Feeling; he delays his accidental team’s escape plan to go back for the cassette player.

So far, so fun, a charming and relatable through-line in a movie that gives main-cast billing to a talking tree. We are many of us familiar, I think, with the irrational, undeniable belief that a song has become somehow ours through a sort of spiritual osmosis, through the space we have given it in our lives, the accumulated passion it has bestowed and received; ours not like a possession but like a limb or a home, with that sense of a belonging that is beyond the transactional, that is somehow mutual even though, of course, the song doesn’t care about you any more than the weather does.

It was later that I sat up, startled and surprisingly grateful, surprised to be grateful to my annual explosive romp in an air-conditioned sanctuary from the unrelenting August heat (ah, unrelenting–see? I do it with weather, too): when green-skinned Gamora asks Peter what makes this mysterious artifact worth risking his life over, he says: “My mother gave it to me. My mom liked sharing with me all the pop songs that she loved growing up.”

All the pop songs she loved growing up. This struck me as a minor miracle, to see a framework for loving music wholly divorced from tiresome questions of meaning or talent or quality, to see pop songs valued partly for being “pop,” not through some nebulous boundaries of genre but as in, simply, popular: known to many, widely beloved. Peter’s mother may have loved them for any number of reasons; Peter loves them because she did. And because she chose to give them to him: to weave for him a link to her previous life, on a world which he has lost, music as history and shorthanded storytelling, as legacy, music as something which exists between our ears, yes, but also between each other. When Peter puts his headphones on a skeptical Gamora–“I’m a warrior, an assassin; I do not dance”–he isn’t seeking to impart the transfiguring properties of a particular song; he’s offering out a piece of himself, and inviting her to open, just a little, in return. He is striving to create a space of sharing. Sharing is caring–a moral so juvenile, they teach it in kindergarten! Only a quick glance outside shows it’s hard for most people to learn.

Outside, or inside: I am a timid and skittish creature, prone to curling inward, easily frightened by the endeavors of personhood. I am afraid of dreaming, of containing insufficient dreams, of wanting the wrong things, of wanting anything at all. I am afraid, most of all, of other people, which is to say, of my own reflection in the human mirror: of revealing myself too quickly or in the wrong order, of being examined and found wanting, of being seen as I am not or as I am. I am afraid of bodies, those decaying, fragile things. I am haunted by the love I have warped or destroyed through demands that it cure my fears, and by the love I have failed to give, by all the times a craving for something that felt like love led me to act out of anything but.

Peter is haunted, too: not just by his mother’s death, but by his own refusal to take her hand in her final moments, by the pleading he ignored in a moment of childhood cowardice which, you will note, did not serve as a lesson to make him suddenly brave. In Angels in America, Prior delays revealing his illness out of fear that his boyfriend Louis will leave him, and that is exactly what happens and keeps happening for six hours of theater: Louis, unwilling to face the ugly reality of disease, walks out on him while he’s in the hospital, abandoning the person he loves for anonymous sex and an affair with a married Republican. We do not automatically become the people circumstances require us to be. The nameless man Louis gets miserably fucked by in Central Park is played by the actor who plays Prior, a trick of stage economy that serves as a reminder that those we turn our backs on have a habit of lingering at even our sharpest edges.

Peter makes two trenchant observations about the violent misfits he finds himself allied with. The first is that the reason none of them have friends is that five seconds after they meet anyone, they’re trying to kill them. The second is that they’re losers–“I mean like, folks who have lost stuff … Our homes. Our families. Normal lives.” Gamora became an assassin after her family was murdered, her body weaponized against her will. These are connected, I think: it’s harder to reach out when you have memories of connections severed through malice or accident or your own weak grip. It would be nice if the difficulty meant somehow it became less necessary, but I don’t think it does, though certainly the calculations may change. The fact that you failed, or that life failed you, doesn’t mean you won’t be called on again. The fact that your mother has just died doesn’t mean you won’t be abducted by aliens. “The world only spins forward,” as Prior tells the audience at the end of Angels, and if you learn from previous revolutions it’s only ever because you choose to.

Peter does choose. It’s a comic book movie: of course he does. This, as much as all the punching and lasers and blowing things up, is what I paid my fourteen dollars in August to see: the fantasy of courage, which in Guardians is as helpfully illustrative as the picture books kindergarten teachers read out loud in the first week of class, to give small clumsy minds images to hold as they sort through the ethics of tattling or the dangers of teasing. The day is saved because Peter takes Gamora’s hand; in case you didn’t get it, the movie swaps her out for Peter’s mother long enough for Peter to make clear to us and himself that he is doing now what he did not do twenty-six years ago, the kind of cheerful unsubtlety which is my cinematic bliss. The galaxy is saved because what cannot be borne alone can be survived together.

Some things cannot be survived at all. Nothing can be undone. Louis eventually comes back to the hospital, to Prior, ready at last to cease failing in love, and Prior tells him, I love you, Louis, I really do, but you can’t come back. Not ever. Peter’s mother is not resuscitated by her son’s redemption, nor could she ever be. But five years after Louis finally understands that failing in love doesn’t let you off the hook, Louis and Prior sit as friends and among friends at Bethesda Fountain. At the end of the movie, Peter, brave enough now to look his lost past in the face, finally unwraps his gift to reveal–what more obvious, what more perfect–Awesome Mix Vol. 2, because sometimes, when you are very brave, and very, very lucky, you receive something beautiful. He settles in to let Ain’t No Mountain High Enough wash over him, tearing up at a song he doesn’t even know yet, because the song is only a small part of the point. Gamora wanders in and starts tentatively moving her head to the beat, a weapon still but one that might dance, not made anew but transformed in this small way still by her choice to reach out and hold on.

I’ll be there when you want me / some way, somehow: what a huge thing to promise. How strange, when we know in time we will fail even if only because our bodies do. How necessary it seems to me to do it anyway, sometimes. Maybe. I don’t know. I know that the best things in my life have come from reaching out, with all the strange, alien parts of me, and I know that it’s hard anyway. I saw Angels in America a few years ago, both parts, and cried at the final scene, at Prior’s parting words, delivered straight to the audience, a kind of magic as far as you can get from the CGI wonderland of summer blockbusters: just a person talking to people in a room, just people and words and an agreement to believe it’s more than that. And I bless you: More Life. The Great Work Begins, Prior says, and god, it is work. And it is great, in the broad sense of the word: substantial, significant, enormous. And it is always going on.

I don’t believe we get what we deserve. I don’t believe suffering is a simple catalyst for growth, or even often worthwhile. I don’t believe the beauty of life outweighs its horrors, or that future triumphs erase past mistakes. I believe that meaning is what we make it. That the universe is cold and extraordinary and indifferent as a song, and I don’t know anyone who survives it alone. I believe in the mundane bravery of reaching out when you find something, someone, that matters: reaching out over the highest mountains and the lowest valleys, across the widest rivers, across the whole damn galaxy.

– Isabel Cole

Isabel previously wrote for us about Liz Phair and Britney Spears.


Workspace Wednesday : How  I store my [decorative] notions!

These are captioned if you would like to read details on each photo.

Last week was practical notions, and here are the decorative ones. I store most of them in photo boxes from AC Moore, they are the perfect size and super lovely and colorful. 

I store some other items - cameos, flowers, appliques and feathers in jars from Ikea. I store (most) of my pearls in spice jars, also from Ikea. 

My beads are stored in a scrapbooking bag from Michaels. I keep more floral things in black and white tins but I forgot to take pictures, oops.

Six Days To Go!

So this is the final week before my wedding. We’re wrapping up the final preparations and paying off the last few bills. I still need to find a dry cleaner for my wedding dress, but other than that, I think…I THINK…we’ve got everything in place.

Today, I got an 8x10 photo print made of the picture I took of St. Brighid’s Well in Kildare. This picture was taken literally moments before Ragnar got down on one knee and proposed.

This photo is going inside a 16x20 matting and will be the signable guestbook poster for the wedding.

I also picked up ribbons for our handfasting cord, and charms for the ends. Given the tight budget we’re on, I was really happy to find ribbon spools on sale, and some inexpensive and GORGEOUS charms that are just perfect for Ragnar and me. (Don’t worry, I’ll post pictures when it’s done.)

So fingers crossed! We’re almost there!


Hazel&Felix Wednesday
Hazel and Felix spent the day here Saturday preparing for their mommy’s birthday.  They had clear and concise ideas about how she would be celebrated.  First, a chocolate cake… and then to the art room to make her a masterpiece.  

The cake was a little dry and crooked,  but the words “BEST MAMA” made it perfect.  Their work on the  macaroni necklace and paintings was challenging, they insisted on lots of paint, and were very specific about colors and brushes. Their masterpieces had to be perfect for mom.  I believe the glitter tipped it in. :)
 It was time to wrap the gifts they made.  Out came the tissue paper, bags, boxes and spools, and spools of ribbon.    
They worked very hard on their projects and were now ready to celebrate mom!

You are a gift to this family.  So needed, so wanted and so loved.
You are a mother-wife-daughter-sister-aunt-granddaughter-niece-cousin and
best friend! 
Our world would not be the same with out you. 
You make complicated things…simple.
you turn fears into bravery-
hopeless into hopeful,
and frowns into smiles.
You have a great heart, mind and soul.
I wish you more and more and more of God’s Blessings!


Recently I help one of my bosses move to Florida, Him and his wife were so kind and gave me boxes, and I mean BOXES of sewing things. They include a ton of lace, spools and spools of lace, four large boxes of buttons, a box of snaps, a collection of zippers and a large box of patterns and two huge bags of ribbon. There is no way in my life time I will ever be able to use all of it so I figured I should try my hand at a tumblr give-away!


  • Must be willing to give me your address
  • it would be really nice if you followed me.
  • Likes and Reblogs count as an entry
  • every time you reblog it is an entry (so enter as many times as you like)
  • no giveaway blogs ( do those really exist?)

The Winner will receive!

  • A box of assorted sewing supplies
  • A few spools of lace
  • a few spools a ribbon
  • a large handful of assorted buttons
  • a few patterns
  • a handful of zippers
  • a handful of bias tape
  • and a spool of trim

Depending on the size of the box I can ship at a flat rate will depend on how much of everything you will receive. I will handle all shipping costs. If you have any color requests please let me know and I will do my best out of everything that I have. 

If there are enough people interested I will have a first place winner as well as runner ups. The first place winner will also receive a new box of pins as well as a new pair of sheers. The runner ups will just receive the assorted box. 

The giveaway will end on September 30th 2014! The winner will be chosen by a random generator. 

If you have any questions feel free to message me. This is my first tumblr give-away and hopefully all will go well!

Thank you and good luck!