snow quilt

2

“Adrift in Memories over Paris” by Sandi Snow of Lutz, Florida.

This is my personal favorite from the Florida Competition (aside from mine, of course). I love all of Sandi’s work, and this one has such ease and charm to it.

The background fabric is actually a print of a French map, and I love how she achieved the tucks in the balloon’s ribbon. Her border is absolutely perfect.

Photo taken at World Quilt Show Florida, 2017.

KAI PARKER FIC

BRUISES

 PT FOUR

X

As winter settled in, the town was draped in a white quilt of snow, sparkling snowflakes fluttering down and engulfing everything it touched with cold. The girl held on to Kai Parker’s hand as she dragged him through the snow, boots sinking into the ground as a the heretic grumbled from behind her. He was wrapped in a big fluffy coat, similar to hers, and they both wore chunky boots with thick woolen socks. 

“I don’t understand the point,” Kai said for the millionth time.

“It’s beautiful,” the girl insisted, stopping in the middle of the snowy forest and turning to face Kai, “and isolated enough that nobody could catch us.”

“From doing what?” Kai gulped nervously.

“Magic,” the girl laughed in response, seeing that look melt off Kai’s face.

“Oh,” he chuckled, his head dipping down, snowflakes catching in his brown locks. He raised his head again, full lips split into that grin she loved.

The girl instantly smiled back, happy to see him happy.

“Show me,” she begged, bouncing on her tip toes with excitement.

Kai beamed with confidence, finally sure of something he couldn’t mess up. He took the girls hands in his and closed his eyes, an incantation tumbling off his lips as a shimmering orange globe engulfed their bodies. The orb that surrounded them seemed to make the snow bounce off of it, like they were wrapped in a warm little enclosure in the middle of the forest. Then, just for fun, Kai raised a clump of snow from the ground, making it float up to the girl’s head and fall in a halo shape around her hair, kind of like a crown of snowflakes, which suited her wonderfully.

“A crown for my princess,” Kai smiled with pride, letting her hands fall as they sat in their protective hideaway.

She laughed with glee, picking up on his ‘my.’

“I love it!” she said, wrapping Kai in one of her bear hugs. He sunk into her body, safe in her arms as he pulled himself tightly around her, her face buried in the crook of his neck. 

“I’m happy,” Kai said out of nowhere.

“And why’s that, Malachai?” the girl said as she pulled back.

“You.”

Her cheeks flushed red, heart going into overdrive as it always did when Kai spilled out sweet statements like that.

“I just, I’ve never really been happy before. I didn’t even know that was a feeling that could be felt so-so strongly,” he babbled. “And I’m really just, grateful to have you as my…friend.” he finished quietly, his lips bending downwards.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, picking up on the way his blue eyes now failed to meet her own.

“So I’m selfish,” Kai whispered to the ground.

She sat frozen, unblinking as Kai talked more to himself than her.

“I’m selfish because, even after everything you’ve given me it’s not enough.”

“Malachai-” she began softly.

“Wait,” Kai said, closing his eyes, blinking them back open to look at her. “I just need you to know it, even if it makes me an awful person for feeling the way I do. Because by some miracle, this kind, brave, and beautiful girl was let into my life, and as much as I tell myself not to feel, I can’t, not with you,” he said, his eyes glistening. “I tell myself there’s nothing more there, that I have it all, but I don’t, and I can’t stop hating myself for it. And it’s selfish because all this while I was trying to push you away, saying it was for you, but it was also for me, because I couldn’t let myself…” he trailed off.

“Let yourself what?” she murmured, raising a hand to Kai’s cheek, her eyes searching his, fingers spread over his skin.

“I couldn’t let myself love,” he finished.

A single tear rolled down his cheek, and he let it slide right off his face, his eyes steely as he stared at her, waiting for her to say anything, to do anything. So she did. She took in a shaky breath, and then she kissed him. And in that kiss, she didn’t have to say anything for Kai to understand how she felt just through the way her lips moved against his own. It was cautious, soft, and short. Her hands cupped his face as she held him there, the taste of Kai Parker being one that was unforgettable. And he was scared he didn’t know how to respond, making him freeze up for a moment, but soon he relaxed comfortably against her body as his lips hungrily fought back against her own, hating when she pulled away after only a second. She still held him like that, hand on either side of his face as she stared into those blue eyes, heart racing.

“I love you,” she said, “I need you to know that.”

“I do,” he responded, but said it with utter disbelief.

“Malachai, you’re so scared to let yourself feel, but you don’t have to put up those walls anymore, not with me,” she promised. “You’re not selfish,” she continued, “you’re human.”

His lips twitched as he looked her over in awe, “I love you.”

She placed her lips to his forehead, pulling back with a smile.

“And how does it feel?”

“Different,” he admitted. “There’s happy, and then there’s my heart is going to implode out of my chest happy.”

The girl burst out into a fit of giggles, to which Kai followed. When she was done, she lifted Kai up to stand beside her, turning her head to the side and instantly freezing over. Her throat closed up as she tapped frantically on Kai’s arm, not sure how to speak as she signalled to the ground. There, not far from them, was a set of footprints stomping through the snow, but no visible body to match it.

“Oh my god,” Kai breathed, “you need to run.”

“What? No!” she protested.

Kai clenched his jaw, hands grabbing at her shoulders as the girl turned invisible, her throat closing up as she was suddenly unable to speak.

“I’m doing it to keep you safe,” he whispered as the figure in the snow suddenly became visible.

“Father,” Kai growled, glaring daggers at Joshua Parker.

“Who are you here with?” Joshua responded flatly.

“Nobody,” Kai lied.

Joshua Parker grabbed at his sons wrists, pushing him back into the snow so that he went tumbling onto the ground, back flat as his father towered over him.

“I saw her, the girl,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking ab-”

Joshua brought his hand up and slapped Kai right across the face, unable to hear the cries of the girl who collapsed by his side but was unable to touch him.

“You can tell me where the girl who’s life you plan on ruining is, or I can find her myself,” he said, Kai shaking beneath him as he held his palm to his sore cheek.

“And then what?!” Kai spat, “you’ll take her out of my life so I can spend the rest of my life continuing to be outcast by my own family?!”

His father drew a slit in the air, a red gash drawing itself upon Kai’s neck, weakening him so he was unable to hold the spell around her. The invisibility charm that cloaked her vanished, and she was suddenly there, beside Kai, who’s fresh blood spilled off his neck and down into the snow, staining it ruby red. nothing on her side but the element of surprise, the girl aimed a fist at Joshua Parker and hit him square in the jaw. He collapsed onto the snow, and in the moment before he recovered, Kai’s arm seized the girl, and they were both gone.

Here’s #2 out of four free requests from my ML sticker post. This one is for @miraculousmidnight, who requested chibi Ladynoir drinking hot chocolate. Chat’s enjoying the drink more than he should, so Lady is amused. I just recently found the three different theme songs (the French one is my fave) and have them playing in a loop while colouring this~ (ノ ´ ▽`)ノ♪  

A little early but…Merry Christmas!!! ❄ ❄ ❄

                   The width of the lightning bolt is only about as wide as a pencil.
                    —The Weather Channel

The first saffron sheet breaks, two cumulous tin cans spill
a wide powder keg of gunpowder gray. Coiled thunder sparks
the inky nigrescent sky, rinds of one hundred oranges peel,
infuse, are slung. The mother goes flying. The daughter
takes to the glass.

Pots are topped. A stove shut down. The tiny kitchen stage
abandoned. The mother slips from flamingo to fleeing barn
owl. She spills: one widemouthed mason jar of liquid fear.
Her wild turning head is beak & breast pointed south,
toward the farther-further, darker, backside of the house.
She will only give herself to any windowless den, any
camouflage of cover: lavender snow quilt, moth-eaten
polka-dot coverlet, camphor woolens lost in the dark rib
of the closet, anything brother to lead, sister to opacity.

The only daughter stands at the sizzling window. As brown
moth, brazen & mesmerized, heedless, her nose wood-
peckered into the whirling world of the storm, thirsty
to call at the lightning, ambitious to burn, while the mother
throws her last warning out into the pitchfork of sky:

Lightning can come through any open
door, Girl. Can walk straight through
glass at any angle. Can take down
a little thing like you—just like that!


Out of view the mother freely dives. Prayer is the last light
spray of tongue-talk easing her safely down. Underneath
waves of mercerized cotton she will wait out the pageantry
of flashing orange light.

The girl is willing to be turned into the roar of rock, the float
of ash, just to feel its flashy fingers strike, to watch the fiery
sky pull at the tingling tips of her hands grazing the skin of
the glass. Her lips so close to self-suffocation, soon she is
choked back alive, the sky a fusillade of booms; air: florid,
tangerine jagged lines of corn-colored bombs.

At the weatherproof double panes her childhood lifts away
to the dusty locust field. Her fists, ripe with electricity, open
& close, her eyes are sweetly singed. The flutter-beat of her
lashes returns her to the softening sky, to the sight of her
self, on the other side of the kitchen glass, wet, staring back.

She begins shaking herself, back down from sky to earth.
Her stubborn lashes are two honey-drunk bumblebees still
tumbled on their backs. She has been fire-fed, rude. A girl
in levitation with the mad & thundering Jove. Going forward,
she is willing to go blind, lose her obeying-girl tongue, her
momentary sight, for any hot lemony tremble of the long
pencil’s flash ever again.

The glass shows respect, staying warm for the mother’s
return: She Stagolee-fumbles back into her kitchen. Sleepy
cotton stuck to her cheeks and hair. Her messy bonnet
needs to be retucked. But her eyes know a miracle
when they see one:

The girl is still there, still breathing, still camped out
at the unbroken glass, with a toothpick-size shadow
of resistance balanced in the flush of her lips. Done.
Nothing more to warn the girl against now. Now the long
solemncholy wait, for the twisting out all the way. The final
life & turn, the wax and rock of childbirth evenly sculpted,
the early pollinated melancholy, this sandy, burnished,
smoldering lead of lanky Old Maid-to-be.

Nikky Finney, “Thunderbolt of Jove,” Head-Off & Split (TriQuarterly Books, 2011)

The Last Holiday Part 1

Originally posted by toyboxboy


Your life was repetitious and boring, same old scrimping and saving, working a menial job until one day, you find out you’re dying. You’ll be lucky if you live past New Years, so you decide to blow all your money to spend the last remaining weeks of your life living it up. Your new reckless attitude gains you many friends who work at the Hotel you’re staying at and catches the eyes of a certain Bell-Boy. At the same time, said Bell-Boy pretends to be another resident staying in the Hotel, trying to impress you. No one knows your secret.

(mash-up of The Last Holiday and Maid in Manhattan)

I’m so sorry I haven’t been writing much! I wanted to do something fro Christmas and I’m sorry if it’s rushed but it’s late and I have finals tomorrow!

Contains: Angst, fluff.

The cold winter air bit at your skin, leaving your cheeks red. You pulled your winter jacket tighter to yourself, adjusting your scarf and pulling down your hate to try and expose less skin. Music blared in your ears as you walked from work, staying on the sidewalks, making sure to be out of everyone’s way.

You were hit with a wave of dizziness and you sighed. You had been getting these random dizzy spells from time to time, mostly at your job at a department store, but you were worried. You had called your Doctor, and he recommended you get a C.A.T. Scan.

After you walked to your Doctor’s office you waited in the waiting room, wondering for the millionth time why doctor’s offices had the most uncomfortable chairs. You looked around, not much changing from the last time you were there, still the same magazines, still the same boring walls with mundane paintings.

You yawned, jumping a bit when the nurse called your name. You were nervous, never having done a C.A.T. Scan before. Hopefully nothing was really wrong, because you weren’t sure how to handle it if something was seriously upsetting.

“We just got a new scanner, well, new to us anyway so everything will be fine.” The Doctor reassured you. You held your breath, staying perfectly still. Your heart seemed like it was going to burst.

Then you had to be re-scanned. Then you became worried. It was so silent when you stood up you could feel a pin drop. Your Doctor ushered you back into the waiting room where he left you for a few minutes.

“Let’s talk in private.” The Doctor called you once he emerged from his office and you gulped.

-
The scenery flashed by, lush green pine trees and grassy hills covered in a quilt of snow, making you sigh. Thoughts raced through your mind.

“You only have 3 weeks to live.”

It kept repeating in your mind, making you almost nauseous. The fear of dying when just a week ago you believed you were living to 70. You had a severe case of Lampington’s disease, and it was killing you. That’s what the doctor said. You would be lucky to live past New Years. Your thoughts held you in such a power that you didn’t realize that the car stopped and the driver was currently looking at her.

“I’m sorry. the world just looks so peaceful that I couldn’t help myself. Like it’s being born anew.” She noted, cheeks pinking. The man, stared at her for a minute. Jason- his nametag read. You were about to just leave and grab your bags yourself when he found himself a voice.

“If only everyone who I’ve chauffeured in this car had an inkling of wonder that resided in just your pinky, then the world might just be a better place.” He hopped out of the car, opening your door and picking up your bags for you. “Welcome to the Grand Hotel Deider.” He announced and you smiled. It looked even better then the photograph.
-

(Spencer’s POV)

“Now, prepare to be astounded!” Spencer, a bell-boy worked on his current science-magic trick to his friend, Penelope who worked at the front desk. She sighed playfully, watching as her friend continued to do his trick. “Stop!’ she nudged his arm, pointing to the front of the building.

"What, it’s just another customer. Same rich, snobby people whose luggage I have to carry.” He barely looked up until Penelope’s hand squeezed his jaw and forced him to look up.

“She’s got Jason smiling. Gideon never smiles!” Spencer simply shrugged. “Maybe she was flirting with him?’ He paused, thinking it over a bit more. "But he is dating Sarah right?” The two didn’t have any more time to talk before Gideon and the strange woman approached them.

“Garcia, look up a room for Ms….?”

“Y/l/n.” You filled in. “Y/n Y/l/n.” You waved to the workers, blushing in embarrassment once more.

“Ms. Y/n Y/l/n requires a room.” Gideon finished, setting your bags on the floor. you only had a few since you packed only what was necessary. You heard a few clicks of the keyboard that resided in front of her.

“I’m sorry but we weren’t expecting you for a while. You’re room isn’t ready yet.” You sighed, looking up at the ceiling for a few minutes. “I understand, but I find now more then ever that my time is very precious. are there any rooms available?” More clicks.

“Just the Presidential Suit Ms. It’s 4,000 Crowns a night.” she bit her lip, looking up to see your reaction. You simply smiled and shrugged. “That’s alright.” You sighed peacefully. “Does that ceiling ever make you want to cry?”

While you were talking to Penelope, Spencer simply stared at you, puzzled. You were rich, rich enough to get the Presidential Suit, but you noticed the ceiling. The ceiling was exquisite, sure, but if some one of your caliber had been to other famous places as he expected, it would’ve looked the same as everything else.

“Spencer, take the young Ms. to the Suit.” Gideon nudged him, handing him your bags. Spencer sighed and took the bags, waiting until you looked up at him to start leading you to your new room. It was a quiet journey, until you had reached the room. That’s when you started babbling.

“So has a President ever actually stayed here? Does the staff live in the hotel? What do you like to do for fun?” Your questions bothered Spencer, making him wonder why you were even actually speaking to him. You were a first class resident, who usually wouldn’t even know Spencer was there until you had to tip him.

“Yes, yes, and I’m not sure.” He answered, relaxing as he noticed your thirst for questions was ceasing. He led you to your room, and set your bags down, just about to leave when you stopped him, wads of money in your hand.

“Did I just give you a ridiculous tip? I still haven’t figured out this money thing.” You smiled and he gulped. *Who* were you? An enigma he was certain to solve. Spencer coughed, handing you some of your money back. “There, now it’s a bit more reasonable.”

“Thank you so much. I appreciate you carrying my bags. It’s a nuisance and I could’ve just done it myself but…” You smiled once more, looking around the room in awe. “No problem Mrs. Y/l/n.”

“Y/n, please.” You corrected and he simply nodded, taking in your soft skin, long/short h/c hair, bright eyes. He coughed once more, cheeks blushing as he realized he was supposed to leave. “Goodbye Mrs.- Y/n.” He ran out the door, slumping against the wall.

A weird thumping resounding in his chest. he couldn’t be…falling for you. A guest? It was…against protocol. But then again, your smile…. He had to figure out what you were, for certainty a kind and caring woman such as yourself had to be an angel.

December Writing Prompts!

I’m doing a project with december related prompts, one everday! Although they’ll be really short, like REALLY short, please bear with me! There might be days combined, since some days I become really lazy.
Here is the list:
1. Sweaters
2. Snowball fight
3. Hot chocolate/Hot drinks
4. Books
5. Ice skating
6. Parkas/ Big jackets
7. Sledding
8. Snow angels
9. Fireplace/candles
10. Snowed in
11. Quilts
12. Mistletoe (or plain smoochies)
13. Snowmen
14. Hotbaths(not doing this)
15. Winter Hats and mittens
16. Shaking from the cold
17. Snow shoveling
18. Hibernate/sleep
19. Cookies/cake/ginderbread
20. Scarves
21. Soup
22. Huddle for warmth
23. Sick
24. Socks/boots
25. Trade gifts/donate
26. Foggy breathes
27. Ski (skipping this)
28. Knitting
29. Power outage
30. Sing loudly and/or obnoxiously
31. Family/friends pictures

Snow Day [A Reigisa Fanfiction]

SO IT’S SNOWING HERE AND IT NEVER SNOWS HERE AND I WAS SO EXCITED SO GUESS WHAT I DID I stayed inside and wrote snowy Reigisa smoochies here goes.

2700 words
No warnings except for cheese, so if you are lactose intolerant, it’s okay, that’s just a metaphor.



“sNOw”


            "Hurry up, Rei, It’s gonna melt before you find the perfect pair of gloves.“

            "But I’ll require sleek enough gloves,” Rei stamped his boots onto his heels securely, “in order to obliterate you with my superior snowball technique.”

            Nagisa threw open the front door of their flat.

            “Ohhhhhhh myyyy goooooood LOOOOOOOOOOOOOK AAAAAAAAT AAAAAALLLLLL OF IIIIIT!!!!” he yanked Rei out the door by the arm just as he, luckily, had swiped the proper purple pair. Nagisa was too ecstatic to notice the evil grin behind his glasses.

 

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grace coming out of the void

Summary:  It’s Christmas Eve, and Killian asks, “What is this holiday even about?” A Snowing/Charming Family/Captain Swan Christmas vignette.

Notes: I’m normally not one to write straight song-fics, but this was just too perfect. The song is “The Atheist Christmas Carol” by Vienna Teng.

I know there are many opinions and arguments about the state of religion in the Enchanted Forest, so for the sake of this piece, let’s just agree that the commercialization of Christmas/the combinations of Christmas with other traditions he may be familiar with confuse him. Please don’t comment just to make an argument about this!

In the craziness of grad school, I totally missed the signups for CSSS, and I missed all the great Christmas Snowing going around, so here is my almost-belated contribution to the fun. I hope you all enjoy. <3

ao3/ffn

grace coming out of the void

It’s Christmas Eve, and Killian asks, “What is this holiday even about?”

Emma pauses, her arm still extended as she fits Mary Margaret’s antique angel onto the top of the tree. “What do you mean? It’s Christmas.”

“So you’ve said,” he concurs, frowning at an ornament in the shape of a reindeer, complete with red glowing nose. “Though – I may be wrong – the last time I checked, I don’t believe we were celebrating deities in the form of snowmen or red-suited intruders.”

She can’t help but laugh at that. “They aren’t deities, they’re … icons.”

He helps her down the stepladder, a grin creasing his face. “The difference being?”

“The difference – being—” she stammers, trying to come up with a better answer than ‘it is what it is’, and she catches sight of her family – her mother in the kitchen preparing enough food to feed a small army, her father reading ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas to her brother, her son not-so-inconspicuously struggling with wrapping the last of her presents. She sees her family, all around her, and Killian right there with his hand warm against hers, waiting for an answer. “The difference being,” she says, with conviction, “that Christmas is so much more than that.”

“Then tell me, love. What is it about?”

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