I am the girl who wears rose-colored glasses. Child-hearted, with birds inhabiting my ribcage and the porcelain rungs of my spine. Flowers grow out of my eye sockets and mouth. I breathe out lavender, I breathe out poppies, I breathe out violets. At night, I put my rose-colored glasses on the nightstand. I feel like an empty milk carton, remains curdled. I talk to the moon, I talk to the butter yellow ceiling, I talk to the sway-swaying trees that cast shadows on the walls that look like long, spindly arms that want to snatch me away. I can feel my heart, vibrating and shaking and alive. I grit my teeth. My heart feels like a wide open mouth, feasting on youth that tastes like bubblegum and spit. And in the morning, I put on my rose-colored glasses and I am a lamb, a saint, a good witch.
Demeter’s cabin is the cabin that houses the demigod offspring of Demeter. It was destroyed when the Colossus Neronis attacked the camp. The inhabitants now reside in cabin 11 until the cabin can be rebuilt. The roof of the cabin constructed of growing grass and has tomato vines growing on the walls. It has wild flowers and roses growing on the porch. The cabin color is a light shade of brown. It is in between Hera’s and Athena’s cabin. Inside, there is a grassy floor and an oak tree in the middle of the cabin that holds up the ceiling.
you do an imagine with joe where youse both go to the gleam party but
you’re not drinking because you’re lowkey preggo w joe an everyone’s
asking why you’re not drinking ??
- - -
I just changed this up a little to like, a Christmas-ish party of
sorts, hope that’s alright!
You said in amazement as you walked into the large open space of
Gleam that had been changed around into an indoor winter wonderland.
was tables set up with white table cloths and a silver sheer over
them, which glittered from the light up snowflakes and, alternating
green and red large Christmas bulbs hanging from the ceiling.
large Christmas trees were on each end of what appeared to be the
main table, both with classic white lights, silver and gold ornaments
and stars gleaming at the top, there were snowflakes on the walls,
and a large fake electric fireplace which housed many stockings all
embroidered with each Gleam members name.
room smelt of a perfectly even mixture between Christmas-tree Spruce
and a smell you couldn’t entirely identify but it smelled like
Christmas, vanilla like, but spicy…
Oh you look so stunning my little butterfly!” Louise said, coming
up to you, hugging you lightly and kissing your cheek. “Champagne?”
She asked gesturing to a table of glass flutes.
You said in a soft voice, brushing your hand down your outfit, which
was a little out of your comfort zone, but a last minute shopping
trip to conceal your ever growing baby bump had you picking items
you’d never pick. “No, no thanks.” You added casually.
eyebrows knitted together at your denial of adult beverages, “no,
thanks?” She re-asked not sure she entirely understood what you
said. A small nervous laughed escaped you, “I mean, not right
now…” You said smoothly.
truth was, you hadn’t told anybody you were expecting, you were a
little over 14 weeks pregnant and nobody knew except Joe and
yourself, you were nervous to share your happy news with everyone. A
little over a year and a half ago, you had gotten pregnant … Joe
and you were so excited you shared the news almost immediately after
you found out at 5 weeks with all your friends, family and your
was so easy and exciting telling everyone you’d be expecting a baby
Sugg in January. But so painful… And sombre telling the same
people, that no… There would be no baby Sugg and that your 8 week
appointment didn’t go as planned.
time you were both careful, you told nobody, scared that the
slightest celebratory gesture would jinx you.
I see – you wanna come across as a respectable adult, before you
get completely wasted, gotcha.” Louise winked, doing finger guns at
you, while laughing. It was easy to tell she had been pre-gaming
before this party and tipsily wondered off, yelling at the back of
Marcus’ head in excitement, it made you laugh and shake your head,
An arm slipped around your waist as Joe came to stand beside you, he
kissed your cheek, “feeling okay?” His voice was low in your ear
after the kiss. “Mm-hmm.” Escaped your lips as you half nodded.
I’m glad.” He flashed you a smile, that melted your heart just like
every other time he smiled your way. “I know you didn’t really
wanna come, but, it is good to get out of the house.” He said.
You agreed, “so far baby is cooperating.” You didn’t get just get
morning sickness, you got an all day at random times sickness. “Good,
you behave for mommy little one.” Joe nodded, his finger tips
brushed against your stomach lightly.
felt your cheeks blush, “don’t draw attention to my massive
stomach.” You sighed. “You aren’t massive, babe.” Joe rolled
his eyes, but took his fingers away and cleared his throat, he wanted
nothing more then to scream from the rooftops that you were pregnant
and the pair of you were going to be parents. But he knew you weren’t
quite as ready as he was.
look so stunning sister-in-law!” You heard Zoe before you felt her
arms wrap around you from the side, squeezing you tightly and you
tensed up. “Oh, thank you.” You said with a smile, moving a
little and returning her hug quickly. “(Y/N) you look beautiful.”
You commented seeing her in a deep red dress and black tights with
you.” Zoe gushed, giving you a huge smile. “And I must say,
Joseph you clean up so well!” She looked at her brother in black
jeans and a white button down shirt. “Thanks.” Joe grinned at
her, “I woke up this way.” He said vainly, making both Zoe and
feel like, I haven’t seen you in forever! You really need to visit
more often!” Zoe said in a playfully scolding tone at you. “We
have so much to catch up on, lets get a drink – and you must tell
me where you bought your foundation, you’re simply glowing!” She
remarked, grabbing your hand and started to drag you away.
her you glanced back at Joe helplessly, but Alfie soon made Joe
impossible to see and you turned your attention back to following
Zoe, still with a hold on your hand.
everything look wonderful?” Zoe commented, as she stopped by the
table of glasses and you nodded, “it looks amazing, yeah.” You
seen her picking up two glasses and holding one out to you. “I’m
not really thirsty…” You tried to protest but Zoe was staring at
you in such a way, you sighed, taking the glass you just held onto
not thirsty, uh huh.” She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes as
she sipped her own drink. “By the way! I LOVED your haul video from
Primark, you always pick the cutest things. We have to go shopping
would be nice.” You agreed, your fingers tapping the glass you held
nervously. “Why hello ladies, looking very gorgeous this evening.”
Jim joined the two of you, smiling as always.
you Jim.” Zoe said, giving him a quick hug, you took the
opportunity to set your drink down, before you hugged him, “Thanks
Jim, you look very dapper.” You added.
you, I think I took more time getting ready then Tan.” He admitted,
“by the way, did you just put down a full drink? Are you feeling
okay?” Jim touched your forehead with his hand. “I feel
fantastic, thank you.” Your tone was dry, pushing his hand away
lightly. “I’m not an alcoholic, everyones on my back… I don’t
need adult beverages to be social!” You couldn’t help your tone
getting a little serious.
calm down.” Jim whispered, putting his hands up in defense, “I
was just tormenting you… No need to get upset.” He pointed out,
but gave you a look of confusion.
not getting upset.” You muttered, feeling suddenly stupid as your
small outburst toward him. “Sorry.” You added, feeling both Zoe
and Jim giving you a weird look.
you’re hungry, have you eaten today? I seen lovely mini sausage
rolls, and little pastries over there.” She gestured to a large
table, thinking about sausage rolls and the smell, your stomach
rolled, your hand went over your mouth. “No, I’m good.” You
you sick?” Jim asked worried. “You look like you’re a little
warm.” He admitted. “I’m fine, just getting over a stomach bug.”
You let out a slow deep breath, wishing your stomach would stop
rolling. “I think I just need some air.” You pointed toward the
door not giving either of them the change to say anything as you
swiftly walked away toward the doors.
almost ran down the small hallway as you got outside to the fresh
cool air, taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Come on, baby.”
You whispered, rubbing your stomach slowly.
to a bench outside the office building, sitting down, you keep
running your open palm around your stomach slowly, “please
cooperate for mommy.” You pleaded with your child.
I understand now.” Jim was standing behind you, watching you. You
turned quickly seeing him.” “Please don’t tell anyone.” You
stammered a little and Jim shook his head. “Not my business to
tell.” He said, coming to sit down next to you on the bench.
far?” He asked curiously, his attention on your stomach, “fourteen
weeks.” You felt a little better with someone other them Joe
wow, I never would’ve guessed.” He admitted, before he wrapped his
arms around you and pulled you into him tightly. “I can’t imagine
how difficult it’s been keeping it a secret…” He rubbed your arm
slowly. “Congratulations (Y/N).” He kissed the side of your head.
so scared, Jim.” You whispered, terrified actually. “I know, I
know.” His voice was comforting. “It’ll be okay.” He assured,
when you lost your first baby, you didn’t want to talk about it, you
hated people asking how you were doing, and telling you, ‘it happens
for a reason’, or just giving you sympathetic looks but Jim had a way
of making you open up and talk about it, without it feeling like
someone was trying to give you a therapy session.
was cooperating all day… Now? No.” You said shaking your head as
Jim let you go. “He?” Jim raised his eyebrow. “Just a feeling.”
You pointed out and he nodded.
maybe he is telling you… It’s okay mom… Tell people, celebrate…
Be happy, not scared.” He said insightfully. “Don’t live by fear
of the past (Y/N), or you’ll keep hidden all the joyous things that
come with pregnancy…” He smiled. “Plus Tan will be absolutely
ticked off with you if you don’t give her ample time to shop for the
little guy.” He tried to lighten the mood, by laughing.
true.” You did laugh, agreeing with him. “Good point, thank you
Jim.” You smiled at him. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”
He stood up, holding his hands out to you.
can get up… I’m not a total whale yet.” You rolled your eyes, but
took his hands anyways and he pulled you to stand up. “No one said
anything about you being a whale.” He pointed out, as you both
started walking back inside…
Created for: The Sims 4 All the necessary, for a living room, themed, noel. In this, set, full of sweetness found. Sofa. gift deco, 2 styles, and 4 styles by gifts. christmas tree, 4 styles. light for christmas tree, find in area floor lamp. deco ribbon for christmas tree. christmas deco for ceiling. coffe table with deco ball. wall deco christmas. fireplace. 10 new items christmas theme
I know, I know, I’ve been MIA and I AM SORRY. Guys, real life has been kicking my ass, but I logged on, saw almost 1,000 follows wtf and knew you all deserved a Christmas surprise. Thank you for following me, thank you for supporting me, and I promise I will try to get way more done in 2017.
Have some Christmas fluff.
“Hermione,” Fred called, his voice muffled behind the stack of boxes he carried in his arms, “Hermione, where do you want these?”
He rounded a corner into the pastel living room of Hermione’s parents home, his eyes rounding as he saw what Hermione had done to the room. Fairy lights - actual, wizarding fairy lights - dotted the ceiling, the fireplace mantle, the tree. Small candles floated above little dishes of colored water. Hermione herself was waving her wand, placing a shining star atop the tree.
He dropped the boxes onto the couch with a thump and glared at her.
“I about broke my neck carrying these the old fashioned way up the stairs and here you are using magic!” Fred exclaimed, his long arms flailing in an attempt to point out the entire room. “Magic!”
Hermione giggled, gently leaving the now sparkling star behind on the treetop. “I said, ‘No magic while the neighbors were here,’” Hermione said, moving her attention to a small bundle of mistletoe that she levitated from the table. “Obviously my parents know where I spent the majority of my formative years, Freddie. They didn’t send me off to military school.”
“Magic!” Fred exclaimed again, exasperated as he pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it toward the box. “What if I had fallen down the stairs and broken my neck, Hermione? How would you have felt then?” Fred let his face contort while he put on a mockery of Hermione’s voice. “No magic in the house, Fred. The neighbors might see, Fred. The Statute of Secrecy, Fred!”
“Well,” she replied, matter of factly adding sprigs of garland around the room, “technically there is another of you, in a manner of speaking.”
Fred feigned shock, holding his heart. “Hermione!” He staggered back, letting himself fall onto the armchair. “Now I know I have a heart. It’s breaking.”
Hermione walked over to him, a smirk playing on her lips. “Allow me to fix that.” She lowered herself onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck as she pressed her lips to his. A sigh escaped her lips as she felt his large hands slide up her arms before coming to rest at her upper and lower back, pulling her in closer. She knew it was only a matter of moments before his breathing became ragged.
She could feel his hands begin to slide and took that as a cue, jumping from his lap, laughing as he reached for a pillow, embarrassed.
“We’ve got work to be done!” she called, grabbing her wand and prancing into the dining room.
“This woman will be the death of me, one way or the other,” Fred muttered, following her.
While it was the first Christmas that they were trying to juggle the wizarding and muggle worlds in order to plan a wedding that would suit both, it was far from their first Christmas together.
She could remember the first Christmas she had known Fred. She hadn’t stayed at Hogwarts that year, but she had heard about the snowballs he and George had enchanted to hit Professor Quirrell in the back of the head with. She had felt a sense of awe when she realized that, in reality, they were hitting Voldemort in the face. She was young, only 12, but she knew that the crooked smile Fred would occasionally direct her way made her feel funny.
Their second Christmas wasn’t exactly romantic - or involved with the two of them in any way. She had been holed up in the girl’s toilet with Ron and Harry, brewing contraband potions and turning herself into an unintended cat. And while Fred would never admit it, she was sure he had been the one who made sure she never had to ask for new ink or parchment in the time she had been holed up in the hospital wing.
The third Christmas, however, things had started to change. When Harry received his Firebolt, Hermione knew it didn’t feel right. There was a murderer on the loose, she had told him. Why didn’t he take the situation seriously? Especially when that murderer was rumored to be after him?
Not being able to make Harry or Ron see reason, she had gone to Professor McGonagall herself. When the broom was taken and Harry and Ron refused to speak to her, it was Fred who had approached her in the nearly empty common room, asking if she was alright. It had been Fred who talked to her, who ate breakfast with her, who asked how she was holding up. Fred had been the one to care. She had never forgotten it.
She hadn’t expected it then. She was starting to see that what she felt for him was more than just a brotherly bond, but she didn’t dare pursue it. Her best friends weren’t speaking to her - she didn’t need to lose the next thing she had.
Fourth Christmas…had been a bit of a disaster. She had waited and waited, hoping that Fred would ask. When Hermione heard him ask Angelina Johnson, she wanted to cry. “Of course,” she had told herself. “Angelina’s his age, she plays Quidditch, she’s beautiful.” Little did she realize that it had been for show, that they were going as friends, that, had Ron not been a git, Fred would have asked her. Instead, they went with other people but, as Ginny pointed out to Hermione later when she explained her side of what had happened at the Yule Ball, Fred and Hermione looked at each other more than they looked at their own dates.
And then, their fifth Christmas, it had happened. They were at Grimmauld Place, celebrating a recovery made by Mr. Weasley, trying not to think of what could have been or the impending war. Hermione sat on the stairs with Fred, talking about what they wanted: careers, future plans, ideas of what their lives would be like.
“Hermione?” Fred had said, tentatively. That had caught her attention. Fred was seemingly never tentative.
“Yes, Fred?” she had responded, looking at him. She had always enjoyed his freckles and the way his eyes sparkled, but it seemed to her as though his face were brighter somehow.
Hermione had expected a response, a question, anything except Fred starting to say something, thinking better of it, and pulling her in to kiss her.
She had never felt anything like it. Kissing Fred on the landing of the stairs in Grimmauld Place, blocking out wars and dark lords and massive snakes and even the other inhabitants of the house, she considered it a highlight of her life up until that point. She had never felt anything like it. Oh, she had kissed Krum after the Yule Ball - many times - but it had never felt like this. This felt as though tiny pieces of her own universe was on a collision course to find their matching bits.
They had been outed, of course. Kreature had seen them and added it to his unending list of grievances, but Hermione and Fred hadn’t cared. They had each other. They were all they needed.
Sixth Christmas, they were in the beginnings of a war. It was hard to think of much else, especially with Fred out there, fighting in it, while Hermione was back in Hogwarts. She worried, she begged the universe to keep him safe. She spent the holidays with her own family after their incessant begging. She knew they missed her, especially as she hadn’t seen them for a Christmas holiday in years, but Fred was always in her mind.
Then there had been the Christmas before last where Hermione had spent the holiday visiting Godric’s Hollow with Harry and nearly leaving there in small pieces. She was much more keenly aware of mortality after that night, and much more careful to get messages to Fred as often as she could.
And then there had been the previous Christmas when Fred had gotten down on his knee and asked her to spend the rest of their Christmases - and all their other days - together. He had gone on about how he should have asked her sooner, how it should have been as soon as he had found her safe in the Great Hall. How he should have let her go from the kiss they had shared and gotten onto his knee immediately but they had friends to bury.
Now they were here, decorating her parents home before the entire Weasley clan popped over that evening for a Christmas Eve feast and party. Her parents had already had their muggle Christmas. She wanted to show off what the wizards could do.
As she started pulling dinner ingredients from the cupboards - Mr. and Mrs. Granger were picking up some wine - Fred’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in close. Hermione giggled as Fred’s breath tickled her neck and she turned to look at him.
“Can I help you?” she asked, pecking him on the nose.
“Well, you could do better than that,” he teased, lightly rubbing her back, his eyes sparkling. “After all,” he nodded up and Hermione looked, giggling as she noticed the mistletoe floating above their heads. “It could be full of man-eating nargles.”
“And you,” Hermione said giggling, “could be full of shit.”
“Merry Christmas, Hermione,” said Fred before pulling her in tight and pressing his lips to hers.
Author’s Note: It’s the final part! I really hope you guys enjoyed the series as much as I enjoyed writing it! I’ll be working on a new series that is, hopefully, beginning this upcoming week. Merry Christmas!
“(Y/n), I need your help!” You stumbled down the stairs after hearing Peter’s voice. The whole floor level was decorated with lights and wreaths and holly and Christmas decorations. Your jaw dropped at the height of the Christmas tree. It was as tall as the ceiling, which was at least two stories up.
“It’s beautiful,” you said. You eyes caught the figure of Peter, who sat on a swing of his spiderwebs at the top of the ceiling. He grinned down at you.
“Do you use a Christmas star or an angel for the tree?” he asked, holding up two different tree toppers.
Prompt: “Instead of the reader
getting hurt, Bones does? Maybe he protects the reader from getting hurt or
Warnings: Trashy science stuff that,
for the most part, is made up. Angst if you squint
Word Count: 2,099
A/n: This fic is way, WAY overdue, but don’t worry, I’m getting back to writing again. I
have been horribly busy. The facts in this story are everywhere, so if you
really have the dying desire to know what’s real and what’s not, message me and
I’ll let ya know :P
Based on something by the wonderfully talented apalapucian but naturally this got away from me and now I’m one giant mess please send help.
James Potter. Eleven. Dirty Fingernails. Cannot be bothered to deal with his hair. His Dad is the best person on earth. Goes to a lot of fancy brunches. Has a scab on his left knee. Fell out of that tree in his yard and broke a tooth. Likes chicken. Counts ceiling tiles. Cannot wait to be able to do magic. Sick of adults telling him he is cute. Wants to go to school so bad it aches. Hates caldron cakes. Loves flying. Doesn’t know what an oven does. Is a little bit lonely. Likes Sirius Black. Thinks his new bed is comfy. Likes Remus Lupin. Likes Peter Pettigrew. Does not like Snivelius. Is undecided about Evans. Stays up to late. Smiles at the girls. Keeps losing his quill. Forgot about his owl for three months one time. Can’t write long letters. That was NOT his fault. Knows the answer. Thinks school is the best place on earth.
James Potter. Twelve. Starts the occasional food fight. Nearly broken his wand thirteen times. Is bad at puns. Pushed Sirius into the Lake once. Laughed until he almost threw up. Wants to know what’s up with Remus. Hates apples. Likes Peter’s last name. Sits at the back. Knows all the teachers. Tried to high-five McGonagall and she turned his hand into a rabbit puppet. Will get on the house Quiditch team even if it kills him. Thinks Dumbledore’s bloody mad. Likes him a lot for it. Drinks a ton of water. Likes teasing the girls. Snivellus is stupid. Evans is stupid for thinking Snivellus is not. Knows what’s up with Remus. Is going to help. Calls McGonagall ‘Kitty’. Learns how to throw a punch. Is actually quite good at it. Slytherins are shit heads. Loves his best mates a lot. Do not tell them he said that.
James Potter. Thirteen. Is a little taller. Still has weird hair. Drunk fire whiskey in the bathroom while skipping charms. Kissed Ella Monroe under the fourth staircase. Painted his dormitory wall. Do not tell Kitty. Only hit that guy because he deserved it. Does not understand Lily Evans at all. A show off. His Dad wasn’t around much this summer. Ate a whole cake on a dare. Remus won’t let him copy the homework. Peter needs to stop bloody humming. Read that bit in the paper about those people and felt his stomach drop. Robes constantly dirty. Sets a school record and scores thirty-nine shots in one game. Is really good with names. Lily Evans is bloody nuts. Hates Sirius’s family. Moves his feet a lot. Thick eyelashes. Has he mentioned yet that Lily Evans is fucking insane?
James Potter. Fourteen. A lot taller. Doesn’t swear in front of his Mother. Wonders where his Dad keeps going. Sirius DOES NOT have better hair. Runs in the morning. Freckles. Is always bloody late. Smells like soap and cigarettes. Of course he wasn’t SMOKING by the GREENHOUSES don’t be RIDICULOUS Professor. Is so messy it drives Peter insane. Thinks Lily Evans is pretty. Hates the wind. Snowball fights. Screaming off the top of the Astronomy tower. Wore high heels one time. It was Sirius’s idea. Snivellus is not good for Evans. Is really good at telling stories. Always finding random shit in his pockets. Once saw his Dad come in at three a.m. on a Tuesday. Is always hungry now. Robes don’t fit. Briana. Kelly. Ariana. Lucille. Beth. Needs to break up with Lydia tomorrow. Flying. Is not scared of that name. Holy shit Lily Evans is really pretty what the fuck. Likes Lily Evans
James Potter. Fifteen. Has a lower voice. Planned that party in the common room. Likes the rain. Can turn into a stAG HOLY FUCK SIRIUS IT WORKED. Always cracking his knuckles. Lily Evans has hair like the sun spat at her. Licks the lollipops. Steals food off Remus’s plate. Tired after full moons. Was not sleeping during detention. Snivellus is an embarrassment. Is a little bit worried about his O.W.L.S. Has nice lips. Slept with Matilda Savage. Forgets to dot his ‘I’s all the time. Did not mean to make him say it. Does feel bad. Knows that some of it is his fault. Wants to take Lily Evans out on a date for real. Needs to stop interrupting people. Needs to grow up a bit.
James Potter. Sixteen. Can’t remember the washing-up spell. Can’t dance. Never puts the seat down. Saw his Dad kissing that other woman who was not his mother. Does not know what to do. The lists in the paper are longer. He does not like it. Avoids Snape. Tries to keep Sirius whole. Makes Remus eat dinner. Laughs with his head back. Very tall now. Lily Evans’s Herbology partner. It is a little awkward. Very good at lying now. Collects fire whiskey bottle caps. Talks to Lily in-between classes. Tries not to drag his feet. Steals Peters chocolate frogs. Doodles on his left knee. Made Lily Evans laugh in Transfiguration. Laughs and Sirius when he stands with his hands on his hips. Is worried about the person with red eyes and a name like a swear word. Tries to forget about it. Fails. Can’t save money for shit. Bought Lily feathered high heels for her birthday. Laughed when she wore them around the common room. Took the rap for that library prank. Is right handed but throws the Quaffle with his left. Is actual friends with Lily Evans. Likes how she writes her ‘g’s. Confronted his Dad. Is sick of stupid homework. Wears slippers to breakfast. Helps little kids who get lost. Fell off his broomstick and broke his leg. Saw Lily Evans pacing in the waiting room. Likes Lily Evans a whole bloody lot. Smiles. Grown up a bit.
James Potter. Seventeen. Never ties his shoes. Gets headaches thinking about home. Likes the way Lily Evans taps her collarbone when she’s nervous. Sings louder when Sirius tells him to shut up. Read his Mothers diary. Kicks his feet. Doesn’t talk to his Dad anymore. Likes Lily Evans’s laugh. Is a morning person. Hates coffee. Hates it when Remus goes on about spelling. Wonders why Pete is always so pale. Is fucking terrified of what’s happening. Forces himself to read the list of names in the paper. Will not go down quietly. Likes the way Lily Evans numbs that scared part of his brain. Worried about Sirius. Worried about Remus. Worried about Peter. Worried about everyone. Laughs when Lily pulls the finger. Punched Johnny Crook when he said Lily was a whore. Makes fun of Lily’s shitty books. Wears trashy sunglasses. Laughs when she hits him on the nose. Gets drunk and thinks about the freckles on her knees. Forgot his own middle name once. Hugs her when she gets the letter about her parents. Knows she hates blue. Saw her walk into a door once. Feels better when he traces patterns on her skin. Thinks she is made of bricks and Diamonds. When she kisses him his head explodes. Buys flowers for the fun of it. Almost forgets about everything when you talk to her. Jumps on the bed. Has a scab on his left knee again. Still Counts Ceiling tiles. Still hates apples. Is infuriatingly in love with Lily bloody Evans. Doesn’t mind one bit
It is a night heaving with stars, ambulance flickers in your eyes, all the red we dream of, all the red we conceal. Dripping out through the warped ceiling, bleeding down the bark of murdered trees. Your love lingers in the room like a corpse like a sigh, and I curl up like a crescent moon, relieve my hands of this shame by stitching them to your neck. Now the shadows render us like fairytale beasts and little red riding hood is in the kitchen rearranging knives for teeth and I blossom with peculiarities. I am the percussion of a poisoned ghost, roaming these wayward streets in her sallow night gown, her sorrow a sacred dome enwreathed like a garden hedge around her. I am a nightbloomer in flames and all the chaos reconciles me the way the rain hushes the earth, the way you grasp for grapes in candle lit rooms ablaze with your name. Sometimes I don’t feel human. Sometimes I don’t feel like I belong. The world as a violin that isn’t attuned to me, the world as the actor who plays my enemy. Listen, I’ve heard of flowers burned into bridges, hearts like funeral homes that will store all your skeletons for safekeeping. I’ve heard of wolves with kind eyes and seas that speak, but these are stories of ghouls and gods, marring my skin with their speared tongues, whirling sleep. I miss who you were in the summer, fissures in your bones and fault lines in your chest, a voice like scripture and paintings of bees hung on your walls. I miss sleeping with you - playing the perpetrator of all your animal urges, how you faltered knees and rotted apples. The kisses that had me hanging by the edge of evanescence, the kisses that usurped a throne against a shameful sky and prepared a legion of rosedrunk martyrs to die in your stead. Your charred heart a black beach that we all live in, your words like halos in the sparkling autumn air, unforgiving as death and just as beautiful. You, the tsunami, you the bullet, you the shattered axis at the tipping point of my rabid world. We are winged creatures, osculatory blips on the crow’s nest of entropy, carnage in the caustic crumbs we leave behind, song sheets in our sternums. We whisper now of old worlds and spirit wine, of galaxies that fall for the twist of a woman’s hip, of cities burning for less than love. Of all the tragedies that were and all the tragedies that will be. Of the tragedy that is your soul, that in hindsight, is mine. Finally, I turn to you, blood brimming from my lips and desire spoiling my lungs. Find me in the ruins, in weeping poetry, in a meteor shower at the end of the world.
You marched right up to Peter. You were fuming with anger, fists clenched and face red. Smoke would be coming out of your ears if this were some cartoon. All Lost Boys kept a distance from you, knowing to never get in your way when you were like this.
“Peter Pan!” You shouted, entering his treehouse. “You can’t keep doing this.”
“What are you talking about? The fact that I pushed another Lost Boy out of a tree again?” He replied casually, laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling.
Your eyes widened, looking at Peter with disgust and shock. “You did what?”
Peter had a thing for pushing Lost Boys out of trees from time to time. He thought it was the funniest thing, but you couldn’t stand it. The boys seriously got hurt sometimes and you had to deal with their whining.
“I was talking about leaving one of the younger ones alone deep in the forest! He could’ve gotten seriously injured. Could have gotten killed!” You fumed. “But you also pushed another boy out of a tree? Goddammit, Peter.”
“What? I wanted to see if he could fly.” He waved it off, sitting up on the bed to stare at you.
“Jesus Christ, I can’t deal with you! anymore!”
He cocked an eyebrow, standing up now. “Excuse you?”
Your hands gripped the hair on your head. You lightly yanked on it, not believing Peter anymore. This boy drove you up the wall. You’d no clue why you liked him, no clue why you dealt with him and his shenanigans. But he was going too far. Pushing boys out of trees and leaving the younger, weaker ones alone in the forest. It was becoming too much.
“You’re out of control. You’re hurting the boys, nearly killing them sometimes! I have to take care of them. I have to mend their wounds. And you don’t even give a rat’s ass about them. This is all your fault!” You screamed at him. “All the problems on this island is because of you! All of it is your fault.”
Peter marched up to you now. Now he was fuming with anger. His eyes turned darker, his snarl nightmarish. He pinned you to the wall, pressing his hands into your shoulders. It hurt, but you kept the fire growing inside you.
“I could kill you right now, Y/N. You know to never speak to me like that. I don’t care if you’re a Lost Boy. Lost Girl. I don’t care if we’re in some form of relationship. You don’t ever speak to me like that. You don’t control me, I control you.”
Your eyebrows raised. “Oh, no no. No no no. You don’t control me. No one controls me. Now, just admit I’m right; you’re out of control, and I’ll be on my merry little way to go aid the Lost Boy you pushed out of the tree!” Your voice grew louder and louder as you went on. You grabbed Peter’s left arm, yanking it off you. You shoved the rest of him off, walking away.
“We’re not finished, Y/N!” Peter yelled at you.
“Yes we are. We’re finished when I say we’re finished. This conversation is done with. Speak to me again today, and you’ll regret it,” you warned, sending very small chills down Peter’s spine. “Oh, and tonight I’m not sleeping in here. I’ll find elsewhere.”
You walked out of the room, heading to where the hurt Lost Boy was. Peter stood straight, looking at the spot you were formerly standing in. His mouth was slightly agape, eyes wide. He stood completely still. Maybe he did mess up. Maybe he did go a little too far. Because in all the time you two have been together and fought, you never once slept somewhere else.
“Hey mister hard worker, Maybe it’s time to take a break.” You let yourself into his lab, Watching as he winced at the sparks flying from whatever we was making.
“Working.” Tony simply replied. Not even glancing your way. You groaned, Walking over to his work desk.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait. It’s Christmas!” You spun his chair around, Giving him the most serious look you could. Not caving in this time. You got that it was needed, But wouldn’t watch him look sleepy and depressed cause of how many times it failed. Not that week, At least.
When you dragged tony up to the living room, He was actually amazed by all the lights strung across the ceiling, The fully decorated tree in the middle of the room, And the mass amount of Christmas cookies on pans were a bit overwhelming. In the best way possible. You quickly ran over to the huge tree, Grabbing a small box from underneath the tree.
“Here, I made this for you.” You handed him the very carefully wrapped gift, That ironically was Red and gold.
“I don’t deserve you…” Tony muttered, Looking back up to your beautiful smile. He hated that he didn’t get to see it more often.
“I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.” You giggled, putting your arms around his neck, And kissing his cheek.
“God, I love you.” He grinned, Setting aside the package so he could hug you tightly. The fact you’d set this up all by yourself was amazing. And you cared too much for him than he thinks you should. But he needs it.
Summary: Ashton and Y/N are throwing a Christmas party and dinner for their close friends nearing the arrival of the beloved festive holiday. Y/N becomes scared, and starting freaking out in front of guests and Ashton. Can it be the disaster of the year?
(not my photo, found on google)
The house had candles on every corner, the scent of pine filling up the air to go along with the couple’s pine tree that almost touched the ceiling. Twinkling lights hung above the walls, curtains, the stair railings, everywhere. Y/N loved the holiday spirit the lights brought into her and Ashton’s life.
People began coming through the door as Y/N was setting up the dessert bar filled with peppermint brownies, white chocolate snowflakes, and sugar cookies decorated as christmas trees. As pondered over the desserts, afraid that it looked as if there wasn’t enough for all her guests attending. She kept huffing and puffing as she moved the plates to be in good relation with each other, and mumbling about how she didn’t make enough. Luke’s girlfriend, who stood by him with a drink in her hand, came over to Y/N and rested a light hand on her shoulder, signifiing she was there. Y/N jumped, laying a hand across her forehead and letting out a breathe.
“Y/N I’ve been watching you for 5 minutes. You need to calm down, you made enough treats for everyone and it looks pretty with the lights hanging above the table and the way their decorated.” Y/N huffed at her comment, shrugging off her hand and beginning to fix the plate of cookies once again.
“No Arzaylea it looks sloppy and that I put this together in 2 seconds. The boys’ management and executives from their label are all coming here today. They won’t be impressed if one of the boys girlfriend’s can’t even throw a simple holiday party with pretty and delicious food. So please.” Y/N didn’t mean to sound demanding, or rude or not accepting Arzaylea’s comments on her food. This day was important however. This was the day that the people who were practically more powerful than Ashton and the boys were meeting you, and if they didn’t like you, you could only image what they’d do to your relationship.
As more and more people piled through the doors and began making themselves at home, all Y/N could do was watch them so intently as they grabbed food and drink, spoke, and what they touched around the house. She saw a couple scooping some cider in their red cups and a couple of drops fell onto her tile floor. Y/N angrily grabbed the dish towel and marched over to their spot. The man saw the mess and tried to grab a napkin but in record time Y/N bent down to do it herself without speaking a word.
“I’m sorry, I was going to clean that up for you if you’d like,” Y/N just looked up at him and roughly grooved her towel to clean up the 3 drops of cider that was spilled.
Ashton began rubbing Y/N’s shoulders as she came back to stand next to him, giving her a massage to calm down.
“Babe you have to calm down. My people won’t like you if you’re being too precise and rude as well, so be the beautiful, kind, and bubbly person you usually are. That’s the girl I love. Things don’t have to be perfect for a small Christmas get together.” He whispered in her ear as Calum began telling a funny story of some sort to the group of people surrounding them.
“You’ve done an amazing job tonight and I’m proud of you.” He kissed her temple, and hugged her shoulder closer to his side. She slightly smiled as she began paying attention to Calum’s story.
She peered around at the lights and glasses of deep red wine mixed with the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg that filled every corner of their home. Tonight might not have gone precisely as she planned, but wheres the fun in that? she thought. Y/N eventually met the boys’ management team, and they even complimented her decorative skills on the dessert table. Ashton proudly paraded the scene with his wonderful mess of a girl next to him, knowing that she had her moments, but he wouldn’t want to deal with this situation with any other girl.
Very short and I’m sorry! I haven’t had the time to really write anything in depth but this was requested. But I’m on winter break now so I will have more time to hopefully write more holiday inspired imagines, blurbs, all that jazz. So, REQUEST