#i mixed up a pan of my own lavender paint and it has been a delight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

naturaldaisaster · 4 years

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thesoulof-hp: Oooo Can you write one about when they get back to present day and what their next move is as a couple?!

Sure can! Thanks for the prompt :)

I’m a bit out of the loop on what people think things are gonna look like when we get back to present day/when the show ends but this is one of the possible futures that has been bouncing around my lil head!

On AO3

drew insp. from peace by t swift

(I’d give you my sunshine, give you my best

but the rain is always gonna come

if you’re standing with me.)

peaceShe can’t stop painting the walls. They were all grey, when she moved in. If Daisy knew anything about renting apartments, her want list for this one may have included something like “doesn’t look like a bunker” in addition to the only other detail she cared about — which had been proximity to the house Jemma bought. Unfortunately, apartment renting was not a life skill taught either by the nuns or by SHIELD. So after closing the deal, she’d come to the place with her new keys, her backpack, and one single box of belongings. There were no furnishings yet, and she sat in the middle of the empty would-be living room, staring at the dark walls.

She wished someone would have told her it would be so quiet.

When she couldn’t sit any longer she went to open the blinds. They were jammed, and old, and bunker-y. She sent soft vibrations through the screws holding up the blinds, until the entire contraption fell to the carpet with a muffled clunk. The glow of the streetlights streamed in to add a new shade of beige to the darkness.

Someone, a neighbor, was walking their lab down the sidewalk. It was this that made her pulse race and her heart constrict. It was all too still, too quiet. Too normal.

She called Sousa— he was getting better at the phone, but still refused to text — on principle, he said.

“Did you guys like, paint shit? In the dark ages?”

“Did we… paint?”

“Like, walls.”

“Sure.”

“Wanna come help me paint mine?”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“On my way.”

That first night, they drove to the hardware store together. Sousa hovered at her shoulder while she fingered through the paint swatches. She had never done anything like it before, and the choices were overwhelming.

“You should do yellow,” Sousa offered unhelpfully.

Daisy wrinkled her nose.

“Yellow?”

“I like yellow,” he defended, but he was grinning softly in defeat. “Reminds me of you.”

She ended up picking a purply blue called “french lavender”. While the paint mixed they got brushes and pans and a few other tools that the employee who finally wore them down with his offers of “help” directed them to. Sousa listened intently to the man’s painting tips, brow furrowed and folded. Daisy wanted to tell him to relax — it wasn’t that big of a deal. But she didn’t. She didn’t even say it when they got back to her apartment, and he carefully taped the molding as directed — even though it was going to double their work time.

With him around, the quiet wasn’t so bad. She gave him her phone to play Spotify — he had put up with only so much of her music before he put his foot down and insisted that for every new artist she introduced him to, he got to introduce her to some of his music. It was an easy pattern for them to fall into, trading off turns. She wasn’t sure if it really was his turn tonight. It didn’t matter.

It was past 1AM when they finished. He had opened the window at some point along the way, and the playlist had long since died out. Warm night air mingled with the fresh scent of paint. She was lying on her back on the carpet beside him, playing absently with his calloused fingers, rested on her stomach. Laying there with him, staring up at their wall — it was perfect.

When she woke with warm sunshine streaming over them, her head curled into the warm, steady rise and fall of his chest, his breath in her hair, their fingers still tangled — it was perfect then, too.

After she started moving in furniture, she realized she hated “french lavender”.

And so it began. “French lavender”, turned to “Robin’s egg blue”. “Robin’s egg blue”, turned to “cotton white”.

“Your walls are going to start peeling off in rainbows,” Simmons muttered whenever Daisy asked her opinion on different swatches, “honestly, Daisy, no one repaints this much. Daniel, tell her no one paints this much.”

She can’t stop herself — it still doesn’t feel right. She practically avoids the apartment most days. The quiet emptiness is like electricity in her veins. The stillness makes her heart pound in anticipation. She can’t relax. When the wall looks right — then, she’ll be able to breath.

She has a bed now, and a couch, and a table and chairs — plenty of things to sit on, but she sits on the floor a lot anyway, staring at the wall. Mostly uninterrupted. So she is surprised when her phone rings.

“Daniel?”

“Can I come over?”

They are firmly “dating” now. It feels like a silly word for it, like “boyfriend” seems like a silly word for him — this man that she’s plucked out of time. These words don’t fit right, they don’t quite match - a shade off from whatever it is that they are.

When she opens her door to him, she immediately notices the can of paint.

“Just give me a chance,” he defends, brushing a kiss to her forehead above her raised eyebrows as he steps over the threshold.

“Jemma put you up to this,” she gives in dry response, and he laughs.

“Nope, all me.”

“I’m not going to like it.”

“That’s fine.”

He moves past her into the living room and is already heaving the couch back away from the currently dark blue wall when she follows behind him, arms crossed over her chest. She makes no move to help him — in fact, she feels frustration bubbling up in her chest, threatening to take hold.

“Stop,” she says, but it is under her breath and he doesn’t hear over his own heaving of the couch. “Daniel,” she says louder now, “stop.”

“Daisy-“

“Dammit, just…” her breath catches, “just stop.”

She means to turn on her heel and storm out of the room, but she feels all of a sudden like the wind has been knocked full out of her, and all she can do is stand perfectly still searching to get her breath back.

Daniel has stopped now, and he stares across the room at her with a furrowed brow and eyes full of worry.

“Daisy,” he mutters, taking a few steps closer to her. “What’s wrong?”

She is still focusing on her breathing, because if she doesn’t she doesn't know what she'll say. She squeezes her eyes closed tight and counts as she breaths in, counts as she breaths out. Then, she carefully unclenches her teeth to speak.

“I’m not going to like it,” she says, enunciating each word carefully and fighting to remain steady.

“So then we’ll paint it again. Relax,” his eyes are soft and worried, “its not that big of a deal — what is this about?”

Her eyes are burning now. It isn’t the paint, of course it isn’t. But she doesn’t know how to put into words what it is.

“I don’t… this isn’t… fuck,” she is falling out of her own control now, a stray tear escaping her eyes and plummeting down her cheek. Daniel is close enough to mindlessly thumb it away.

“I lived in a van — a car,” she finally manages, “with carpet for walls. This,” she waves wildly around them, and a couple more tears knock themselves loose, “god, I don’t know what this is. I don't know how to be like this. It is just so…” a sob is strangling her, “It is all so goddamn quiet that I can’t breathe.”

When the sobs finally do overcome her, he is already holding her tight against him, burying a kiss on top of her head.

She wants this, wants him, wants normal walls that don’t feel like they are strangling her.

“After the war,” he says into her hair, “I slept on the floor. For… longer than I care to admit.”

He hesitates. Holds her tighter. She presses her forehead against his shoulder, breathes his warm sunshine-y scent, focuses on re-steadying herself.

“I was used to a sleeping bag on the rocks, at best. My bed… I felt like I was drowning in it.”

Steady enough now, she pushes back off of him and takes a step back rubbing roughly at her eyes.

“I wasn’t a soldier.”

“Yes, you were.”

The certainty of his words, the sureness in his eyes, stills her.

“And no one, least of all me, expects you to just… move on. Okay?”

She presses her lips together and breathes in slowly, counting. Then out.

“It is chaos,” she finally manages, voice still cracking. “This place is chaos, I can’t help it, I can’t stop it. I just… I want it to be peaceful and quiet and I want you to be here and not worrying about if I’m having another goddamn psychotic break about the color of the wall. But I’m never going to stop having psychotic breaks about dumb shit like the color of the walls.”

He smiles, just a little twitch of the corner of his lip, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“Daisy, I don’t give a damn about the walls. I just want to be with you.”

“I just want…” To have something normal? To give him something normal? He is watching her with those wide, dark eyes, his perpetually furrowed brow. The silence sits comfortably now, that its between them. Her heart gives a stutter. “I just want to be with you, too.”

(He brought "Daisy Yellow", and a flyer from their trip to the museum a few weeks prior. They move the couch and use the map of the constellations on the flyer to begin stenciling bright yellow stars into the deep ocean blue. She is sock-footed on the arm of the couch working on the upper corner, and he is sitting below her, so that when she sinks to a seat to dab more paint onto her brush, his head lolls comfortably backwards against her thigh.

Yellow paint has dried into her fingers, she notices as she runs a hand through his soft curls.

“We’re never going to finish this,” she says, eyeing the hundreds of thousands of pinpricks of stars on the flyer they are trying to emulate.

He laughs, low and deep.

“No rush.”

She slips off the arm of the couch, settling onto the floor beside him. It is still, and silent, and peaceful.

“Maybe you should stick around. For the wall.”

Soft — his eyes staring back at hers, the carpet under her socked toes, his lips against hers, the couch pressing into their backs, his hair tangled in her fingers.

“Okay.”)

#dousy #aos #daisy johnson #daniel sousa #agents of shield

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Sweet as Sugar (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: Vanessa is a cafe owner who finds herself instantly crushing on the new bakery owner across the street.

A/N: Bakery au is finally here! Every time I was about to get this finished and ready for posting, I got distracted by another fic I wanted to write. It’s finally here, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you to Writ for betaing and encouraging me to finally finish!

Read on AO3.

It’s raining the day the new bakery owner arrives across the street, and Vanessa watches it all through the rain-splattered glass of her cafe windows. It’s cozy and warm in here, the customers chatting while they munch on their sandwiches, and Vanessa’s glad to be safe behind the counter instead of out in that mess.

She can’t ignore the little twinge in her chest as she watches the owner–a tall blonde woman–emerge into the pouring rain and sort through stuff in her trunk. She must be freezing, Vanessa thinks, watching the woman finish with her car and move to fiddling with the bakery door’s lock and a box she’s carrying, before finally setting the box down and using both hands to play with the lock. A minute later, the keys slip out of her hand and into a puddle, and Vanessa bites her lip.

“Someone needs to help that woman,” she says to A’keria, who’s busy stocking the case of to-go sandwiches. “She can’t even get her damn door open.”

A’keria blinks and looks down at herself. “You better not mean me,” she says. “You know how much I hate rain. Have Kameron do it. She has muscles.”

“I’m pretty sure her and Asia are up to something since they mysteriously went on break together.” Vanessa sighs, just hoping those two are back before the lunch rush. “I’ll just do it myself.” She grabs her raincoat and stomps to the door. Vanessa’s a helper, and she’s volunteered at too many church functions with her mom to just leave this woman struggling, even if she has to get rained on.

Vanessa’s boots squelch as she reaches the sidewalk. “Hey there,” she says to the woman, who jumps about a foot in the air.

“Sorry, just–you scared me,” the woman says, grabbing at her heart. Her sweater is soaked through with rain and she’s shivering, blonde hair damp and messy, but she’s still beautiful, with soft green eyes and wide lips that look like they might quirk up mischievously sometimes. Vanessa spends a few seconds just taking her in, heart racing.

“You look like you could use some help,” Vanessa says, remembering why she came here.

“Me? I’m fine.” The woman waves her off.

Vanessa puts her hands on her hips. “I could see you struggling from across the dang street.”

“I guess I was.” The blonde sighs. “I just can’t get this key to work,” she says, holding up a key ring soaked with dirty puddle water.

“Let me try,” Vanessa offers. The blonde’s hands are baker’s hands, their slight roughness smoothed over with lotion, a still-healing burn mark near her wrist likely from pulling a hot pan out of the oven, an injury Vanessa knows too well. They’re also shaking from the cold as she passes Vanessa the key, and Vanessa’s heart softens in sympathy. No wonder she couldn’t get her door open.

Vanessa plunges the key in the lock and twists and turns until it clicks, pulling the door open with a whoop of joy.

“I loosened it for you,” the woman says.

Vanessa shakes her head. “That’s for jars, not doors!” She laughs, scooping up the woman’s box and ushering her inside.

Vanessa’s eyes widen when she sees the inside of the place. This little building has been home to dog grooming businesses and then to pizza businesses that did nothing to mask the wet dog smell and then to shoe stores that not only did nothing to mask the wet dog and tomato smell, but also added feet to the mix. Vanessa watched moving trucks drive up and pull away through her cafe windows, wondering if the next person would stick around.

It seems this woman wants to, and she’s completely transformed the place. Gone are the muddled dog/tomato/feet smells, as are the cracks in the wall Vanessa remembers from when she went shoe shopping. Instead, everything’s been painted a soothing lavender, with black silhouettes of baked goods–cupcakes and cookies and donuts–framing the top part of the wall. There’s a big counter with a glass case waiting to be filled, and tables and chairs stacked along the walls.

“It’s beautiful in here,” Vanessa says.

The blonde blushes. “Thanks. And thank you for your help, um…”

“Vanessa,” Vanessa says quickly. “I’m Vanessa.”

“Brooke.” She takes the box from Vanessa and sets it on the counter, eyes roaming around the room and a grin breaking out on her face. Vanessa recognizes the feeling–it’s the same one she had three years ago, when she couldn’t believe her cafe was really hers.

“When do you open?” Vanessa asks.

“Two weeks, if everything goes to plan. Just need to get the rest of the equipment in and finish everything up.”

Vanessa nods, hovering by the door awkwardly. There’s no reason for her to stay, but she can’t quite make herself leave. She wants to keep talking to Brooke, find out more about her. She watches Brooke blow on her hands to thaw them and an idea pops into her head.

“Hey, why don’t you come to my cafe and have coffee or something and warm up?” Vanessa offers.

Brooke smiles. “Lead the way.”

—

Vanessa sits with Brooke at the corner table right below the heat vent, watching her sip coffee and eat Vanessa’s famous grilled cheese and tomato sandwich.

“This is really good, Vanessa,” Brooke says, and Vanessa beams. She can’t help it. Even after three years of having her little cafe, watching people enjoy her food still warms her heart like the first time she made her mom pancakes and watched her devour them all. Everything Vanessa knows about cooking comes from dragging a chair over to the counter and watching her mom make dinner, and now she gets to be the one cooking.

“Thanks,” Vanessa says. “So, how’d you get into baking?”

Brooke finishes the last bite of her sandwich. “I always liked it. My grandma and I would make something whenever she babysat for me.” She pauses, sips her coffee. “I never went to culinary school or anything, but I’d make stuff for my friends a lot. Somehow they convinced me to start a little home business, and it kind of exploded. I started saving to have my own bakery, and now I do.” She gives a shy little smile that makes Vanessa melt.

“What about you?” Brooke asks.

Vanessa grins. “I basically ran a sandwich shop out of my dorm in college. The dining hall food was disgusting, so my mom got me a little panini press, and I started making grilled cheese and stuff for me and my roommates. Word got around and suddenly I was cooking for the whole building!”

Those had been some of her best days in college—people lined up and down the hall waiting for their sandwiches, bopping to the beat of the radio she had blasting and talking to her as she worked, even bringing their own ingredients for custom orders. And the best part of all: watching them bite into their sandwiches, closing their eyes and groaning about how good it was, like they were in a fancy restaurant and not a cinder block college dorm.

Brooke laughs, and Vanessa would do anything to hear that sound again.

“Somewhere in all that, I realized I loved cooking. It was exciting and relaxing at the same time, you know? So I did a bunch of restaurant jobs until I could finally open this place.”

Brooke nods. “It’s really nice here. Did you do all the decorating yourself?”

Vanessa glances around at the wall of framed posters bearing her favorite movies and singers, the fairy lights lining the walls, the fuzzy pom-pom banner draped in front of the counter, and nods proudly. “And the menu too. All the sandwiches are stuff I came up with myself.”

Brooke whistles. “That’s a lot of sandwiches.”

“Tell me about it. Took me months to come up with them all.” Vanessa must have tested hundreds of sandwiches in those months, adding and taking away and re-adding ingredients so many times her friends and family would run the other way when they saw her coming with samples. But after hours remixing and experimenting, her kitchen transformed into a science lab, Vanessa finally had her menu.

“I like it though,” Vanessa continues. “Trying new things and testing them out. Doing my own thing, you know? You can’t really do that with baking. Tried to do my own thing making a cake once and the thing exploded. I was cleaning my oven for days.”

Brooke laughs. “I get it. I think I like baking because of the rules. There’s certain things you have to follow, yeah, but such good stuff comes from it. And it’s–it’s kinda amazing how some of the techniques haven’t changed in hundreds of years.”

“You’re right,” Vanessa says. “I never thought of it like that. Making stuff’s always been special to me. It’s like making someone food is—“

“It’s like saying I love you.” Brooke blushes at what she’s just said and Vanessa does too.

“Yeah.”

There’s a beat so silent Vanessa hears A’keria muttering to herself about Vanessa’s extra-long break while she wrestles with a pile of spoons. Brooke looks at her empty plate and stands.

“I, uh, I should go. Got a lot of work to do.”

“Right.”

Brooke pulls out her wallet. “How much for–”

Vanessa waves her off. “On the house.” She smiles. “I wouldn’t say no to a chocolate cupcake once you open, though.”

Brooke grins. “You got it.”

She heads out, and Vanessa does more staring out the window than working for the rest of the day.

—

The next two weeks fly by. A’Keria takes over Vanessa’s spot in the window when a muscled moving crew hauls in Brooke’s equipment. Vanessa chases A’keria away for the rest, watching Brooke pace around inside her bakery, rearranging chairs and tables more times than Vanessa thought possible, sweeping with the ferocity of a hockey player, and talking to two girls Vanessa assumes are her assistants. Vanessa imagines Brooke’s delicate hands carefully piping frosting onto cupcakes or icing intricate designs on sugar cookies and has to smile.

Brooke’s been so busy that Vanessa hasn’t seen much of her, and she tells herself the little ache in her chest is just two weeks’ worth of heartburn. Brooke does stop in and asks Vanessa if she can put business cards and flyers on her community bulletin board, and Vanessa barely breathes as she and Brooke tack them up between advertisements for dance classes and library events, their shoulders brushing all the while.

It seems that all the flyers and advertising worked—the day Brooke opens, there’s a line of people stretched down the sidewalk, and Vanessa beams with pride for her. She knows how hard it can be to have a cafe, knows how amazing and necessary the customers are. She wants Brooke to succeed just as much as she has.

She watches all day as the line moves and people come out with bright white boxes and even brighter smiles.

Vanessa is closing up for the day when there’s a knock at the door. Lord help her if these are people ignoring the clear-as-day Closed sign to demand that she serves them.

But it’s not a pushy customer—it’s Brooke, with a tiny box in her hand and a huge smile on her face.

Vanessa grins too, her heart leaping in her chest.

“Big day for you, huh,” Vanessa says, guiding her into the cafe.

“Yeah.” Brooke sighs, rubbing at tired eyes. “I’m exhausted, but in the best way, you know?”

“I do.”

Brooke smiles again, and she offers the box to Vanessa.

“Is this—“

“I keep my promises.”

Vanessa opens the box to see a huge chocolate cupcake with swirled chocolate frosting dotted with tiny buttercream roses. There’s a little fondant tag on top, with something written in impeccably neat red icing. It’s a phone number, and Vanessa looks up at Brooke in wonder.

“If you want it, I mean,” Brooke clarifies, pointing to the number.

“Oh, I do.”

Brooke’s grin reaches her ears.

“Wanna go out for dinner this weekend?” Vanessa asks hopefully.

Brooke can’t nod fast enough. “I’ve got dessert covered.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #akeria davenport #branjie #lesbian au #bakery au #fluff #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission

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you-guys--are-losers · 4 years

Note

HI! For your kissing prompt list can you please do number 37 or 38 for Peter Parker x Michelle Jones. Thank you! ❤❤

//You got it! Thanks for the prompt! ;) We’re gonna start this morning off with some fluff. XD

37: Awkward teenage crush kiss

Lots to Learn

Summary: In the wake of a huge disappointment, Peter and MJ learn a few things about what it means to be there for each other.

Characters: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

Wordcount: 2,303

Warnings: Fluff, Disappointment, Cult References (As Always)

It’s been a good day for Peter since the beginning, even though it’s a hard one for her.

Peter gets the text at 7:30 in the morning. He’s a morning person; even on a weekend, there’s no way he ever makes it past seven before he is awoken by his body. This is something MJ knows, and so his first instinct when he hears her text tone is to grin to himself. The second thought, which follows immediately after, is concern.

She almost always stays up until 3 AM writing on the weekends… Why would she be texting him this early? As Peter fumbles for his phone where it lies on his cluttered desk, another text from MJ comes in. As soon as he sees the messages, his heart sinks.

Hey. I didn’t get in. I’m fine.

Then, two minutes later:

I’m not. Come over

He was there in ten minutes.

At his insistence, the day since then has been a blur of MJ’s favorite things. Doing each other’s nails in dark colors while they watch Don’t Fuck With Cats in the dark of her room, something that they’ve been doing more and more since they returned from Europe. At first, MJ is mostly quiet, but by the time they’re half an hour in and Peter has finally finished painting her nails dark purple, there is the ghost of a smile on her face as she examines the bumpy polish.

After that, it’s people-watching on a park bench with middle-eastern street food, placing bets on who is most likely to be a serial killer and making up outlandish backstories for the most normal-looking people. Then, Peter convinces May to let him take the car out so that they can drive to the Mysterious Book Store, MJ’s favorite spot. On the way there, they listen to MJ’s favorite conspiracy podcast (”Lizard People”); on the way back it’s MJ’s mix of music, which Peter is never opposed to, as they banter over who made the better purchase. Then, it’s back to her place, where Peter is currently in the process of cleaning up after their dinner mess.

MJ is fiddling with her laptop, trying to illegally download the documentary she has been telling him about for weeks that he never got around to actually watching, when he finally breaches the topic.

“So,” he mentions, his voice rising slightly in pitch as he sets the pan they used for stir fry in the dishwasher. “Are you… Y’know. Are you okay?”

Even with her back to him, Peter can see MJ’s shoulders stiffen from the sofa. There is quiet between them for a minute as Peter puts their forks away, but it is not an uncomfortable one. It’s the kind of silence he’s grown accustomed to since he and MJ have started spending more time together: a pensive quiet. Sometimes, MJ needs a minute to put her thoughts together. Ever since she first expressed the need for it, Peter’s grown to appreciate it more and more.

Right now, though, that appreciation is mingled with concern.

After a second, MJ quietly exhales from on the sofa, turning her body slightly so that she is looking into the kitchen while he puts in the dish soap. The machine has started to whir softly before she finally answers, brown eyes watching him intently.

“I mean, I’m disappointed. But I think I will be.” Her tone is quiet, measured. Still, Peter can hear the slight catch in her throat on the word ‘think,’ and his eyes met hers, holding her gaze. She quirks the corner of her lips up into a small, slightly sad smile, asking him not to mention it. He nods and lets out a breath, straightening up and heading to her little box of loose-leaf tea, which she has painted with dark foliage.

Despite the heaviness to her gaze, a quiet, thankful gratitude sparks in those eyes as MJ follows the movement. “The middle finger mug. It’ll help me maturely manage my feelings.”

Peter’s snort of amusement causes her little smile turn into a smirk, and her shoulders relax as he retrieves the mug and lightly scoops some of her lavender tea into it. No diffuser for her– MJ likes the texture of the wet leaves, something she has always insisted vehemently. However, Peter fills one of the tiny metal contraptions up with his cinnamon chai, and then sets his Ruth Bader-Ginsburg to steep on the counter beside the mug she requested, which is currently flipping the kitchen off.

Peter rests his back against the counter, facing her in the quiet for a second. Her wicked smirk softens slightly as they take the moment to just look at one another across the warm light of her parents’ apartment, breathing each other in. She’s told him about how empty it feels here when her parents are gone for work (so all the time); since then, he’s made every effort to be here as often as he can. They’ve built a friendship here, learning each others’ rhythms and preferences. Sometimes, they’ve built a little more than that… Her head on his shoulder when she falls asleep to a move, her fingers tentatively stroking his hair when he collapses on the sofa beside her after a patrol night.

Even now, in this moment of disappointment, they’re building something strong– stronger than rejection.

“Maybe it’s good.” MJ speaks up, causing Peter to lurch out of his thoughts, out of the dark eyes he’s grown to love drowning in.

“Huh?”

“Berkeley,” Michelle hums, amused as she shoots him another smirk. “I mean… It’s California. Far. Bard is closer.”

“Right, totally,” Peter says quickly to show he’s paying attention. “Besides, you know, California people… Lots of, uh, social media influencers and stuff.” He’s really just citing his stereotypical knowledge of the West Coast, but MJ seems to appreciate the effort.

“Yeah. A ton of people pretending that everything is perfect,” MJ agrees. “I’d probably suffocate. And really hot, too.”

“But you’re always cold,” Peter finds himself saying, bemused.

MJ shoots him a look, but she seems to find the comment funny. “Not helping, Peter. Come on, at least try to slander this place with me.”

“Right, sorry.” Peter can’t help his grin as she turns back to her laptop, responding to the ‘ping’ of its tinny speakers telling her that her piracy is complete. “Well, slander sounds good to me… With our drinks, of course. Wait, we could spill tea both literally and metaphorically.”

“Peter…”

Peter grins as he picks up the cups, back to her once more as he tries to balance the heated mugs so that they will neither spill nor burn his hands off. “Sorry, sorry. I know terrible puns won’t help right now. Though, I don’t really know if they would help ever-”

“Peter.”

There is something in her voice, which has gone deathly quiet, that causes Peter to turn a little too fast. He winces as the cinnamon-scented tears of Satan splash onto his skin, but as he quickly sets down the mug his eyes do not leave the back of her head, which is frozen above stiffened shoulders.

“MJ, are you…”

“Peter, I got in.”

There is a moment of silence, and the only sound is the dripping of the tea that Peter spilled slipping over the lid of the counter-top. Peter is frozen for a moment, eyes wide as he looks to where she is sitting. After a moment, he finds his voice.

“But, I thought-”

“There was a mistake with my email,” MJ says, turning to face him. Her eyes are wide, and though she is clearly trying to stay calm, the speed of her tone and the smile that bursts through no matter what betray her emotions.

“They got me mixed up with another Michelle Jones. Apparently it’s a common name, but I think it’s more likely the government was trying to suppress my voice by restricting my access to higher education-”

“MJ.” This time it’s Peter’s turn to interrupt, a grin edging across his lips as his eyes take in her dancing eyes. “You got in.”

A laugh bubbles from Michelle’s throat, wild and incredulous and something that sounds like a dream. “I got in.” She says the words once, testing them out on her lips, and apparently liking the way they feel. “I got in!”

“You got in.”

In an instant, she is tripping over herself to get off her sofa, and Peter is racing across the kitchen to meet her in the hug that she initiates. Her arms wrap around his neck as his circle her upper back, holding her tight as she laughs. For a moment, he holds her close his eyes squeezing shut as she wraps her arms tighter around her neck.

After a few heartbeats of pure elation, Peter pulls back just slightly. MJ does the same, her eyes holding pure light in the dim glow of her living room lamp, and her arms do not leave his neck. The two stand together in the embrace, and suddenly Peter feels his heartbeat increase as he comes to a realization.

He… Wants to kiss her.

Peter bites his lip, catching his breath, and MJ’s eyes flicker down to his mouth before returning to his own. There is something more than just excitement now… A tentative, uncertain glimmer of something deeper, and understanding.

The two of them haven’t kissed since returning from Europe. They’ve held hands, they’ve sat next to each other and given little touches and even snuggled a bit closer for warmth. But they’ve been taking it slow; MJ doesn’t like labels, and Peter’s happy to just explore what they are and save the kiss they’ve already shared for the moments when he feels like he can’t keep going.

But now, he can’t seem to suppress the urges he is feeling: to bring a hand to her cheek, to brush the few wisps of hair that have fallen into her eyes away using a gentle touch. And, based on the way her hands come to rest, brushing the base of his neck, he thinks that she just might feel the same.

“I’m happy for you,” he whispers, trying not to think about the lack of distance between them.

“Y-yeah,” MJ breathes, lips slightly parted as she looks down at him. “You know, Scientology first started in Southern California, and the Manson Murders were in L.A. So if I get any offers to join a cult, I’ll totally make sure that they’re willing to recruit you.”

Peter laughs softly, but his eyes don’t leave hers. Lightly, her fingers relax at the nape of his neck, cradling it gently. He catches his breath as her thumb carefully strokes the skin there, and he can tell she notices by the way she holds her own breathing.

“MJ… Can I kiss you?”

There is a moment of quiet between them as her finger stops caressing the back of his neck and she stares inscrutably into his eyes. Peter blinks several times, cheeks warming.

“I mean, it’s okay if-if not. I’m happy for you either way, and I just… I’m crazy proud of you, even though they’d be stupid not to accept you really, and I-”

Her lips come down to meet his before he can dig himself into a deeper hole.

It’s their first kiss since the bridge in England, and as his eyes flutter closed Peter is worried that maybe he’s doing it wrong. At first, it’s not quite the right angle– she’s taller, for one, and it takes a second to bring their lips together so that they fit against one another.

The kiss is hesitant, gentle… Experimental. Peter knows Michelle, and he knows that it takes her a moment to get comfortable in new experiences. This is new for him, too, so it’s good to take it slow. Her mouth is soft against his own, careful, and at first it’s just a gentle brushing of their lips.

Then she kisses him again, and this time it’s more insistent. They’ve started to figure it out: where their noses need to go, how to hold themselves. One of her hands gently moves up the back of his neck, gently sliding her fingers into his curls. The other comes to cradle his cheek as his own hands lightly tug her upper back closer, offering support.

It’s perfect. It’s new and it’s a kiss of growing, of learning each others’ angles and contours and keeping them in mind. It’s the lemon-flavored Italian soda they had with dinner, it’s MJ’s beeswax lip balm, it’s the feeling of his hoodie swallowing her slim shoulders beneath his fingers. It’s the quiet of her apartment and the soft hum of appreciation that travels from her lips to his before they gently part, foreheads resting together to take a breath.

Peter keeps his eyes closed for a moment, and when they flutter open they find her deep, dark irises peering into his curiously. There’s a shy grin on her lips, but though both are a bit bashful, she’s not hiding.

She’s letting him look, letting him see her in a way that no one else gets to. For all of her walls and her mystery, MJ is inviting Peter to read her story and to stand by her side as she writes it.

She’s sharing one of the biggest moments of her life with him, and Peter has never been so grateful.

When Peter closes the distance between them once more, her raspy laugh against his lips tastes like home. In the warmth of her apartment, free of pressure and labels and prying eyes, Peter is happy to prompt many more soft laughs, to explore the place he has found at her side for as long as she’ll let him.

Taglist: @eniemeanie @inlovewithtoomanythings @booksarelife-stuff @AlexanderThyGreat @flawless-tlc @heynowitsafangirl @but-saving-what-we-love @haurasha @friendly-spoodermin @lundya366 @nicolewithasoul @1am9root @spiderkaren

#spideychelle #michelle jones #peter parker #michelle jones x peter parker #spideychelle fanfiction #fluff #kiss #original work

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shonarollo-blog · 5 years

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panning Kensington Market is not just a market, but a vibrant, living community, home to numerous waves of immigrants over the years.When visiting, I was struck by how many different people from all walks of life gather here to work, eat, live and play. With so many cultures and generations all layered on top of each other, the whole place has a DIY feel you don’t really find anywhere else.

As a destination for art, global street food and community events, there is so much life tucked into every corner of this bustling neighbourhood. It’s nearly impossible to take it all in at once… so, where to start?

Make the Most of Kensington Market

Golden Patty

Eat your way through a world of food

Although Kensington Market has some finer dining establishments such as Grey Gardens, more casual spots that only specialize in one or two items are really where it’s at. True to the market’s immigrant roots, you’ll find mom and pop restaurants serving quick street food and authentically cooked meals that bring a taste of their home countries to you.

Seven Lives is a neighbourhood favourite for getting Baja-style tacos, and they’re in demand. This cash only counter has mouthwatering tacos loaded with all the right toppings, and lots of hot sauce options to pick from. Another popular street food, empanadas, are perfect for a quick and affordable snack. At Jumbo Empanada, you can get a taste of Chile for as little as $1.75 for one of their mini pastries.

Fish and Chips from Fresco’s

As a Montrealer I also have to mention NU Bügel. They serve classic Montreal bagels wood fired to perfection and topped with the works, if you wish. Fresco’s Fish and Chips has meanwhile mastered and upgraded a British classic with an optional extra crispy batter made from Miss Vickie’s “crisps.” Then, Golden Patty will deliver on all your flaky, spicy, delicious, beefy needs.

Kensington Market also has a lot of options for vegetarian and vegan eats. Options like Urban Herbivore, Hibiscus and King’s Cafe are sure to make your little plant-based hearts sing.

Kensington Market & Chinatown Toronto Food Tour exploring the back alleys

Take the Kensington Market and Chinatown Toronto Food Tour

If you’re new in the area or want to get to know it from a different perspective, taking a tour can be the perfect way to connect with the place. You’ll get to know the stories and the history that helped make Kensington Market the way it is today, and get a taste of what a community like this really means. Plus, it’s clear there’s a lot to taste in this high density foodie destination.

Food samples on the Kensington Market & Chinatown Toronto Food Tour

On the Kensington Market & Chinatown Toronto Food Tour, you’ll have the chance to visit 7+ different food stops to taste delicacies that are inspired by global cuisines, and yet take root at a small local business, each with its own story. No single restaurant could bring you a seven course meal this diverse! You’ll definitely get plenty to eat, but you’ll also be enriched by the guide’s insider knowledge as they take you to explore off the main streets and into the real heart of Kensington Market. Have a look at Local Toronto Food Tours.

Outside FIKA

Take it easy at a local cafe

You might need some extra energy to soak in as much as you can of Kensington Market, so why not treat yourself to a delicious cup of coffee, and maybe a scone?

My favourite place to refresh as I explore the market is Moonbean. The locally owned coffee shop and roastery brings the streets’ energy inside with a sprawling chalkboard menu, loose leaf teas lining the walls, and a cozy art-filled room in the back. They also have two patios, front and back, plentiful baked goods, and just about every drink you can think of, even smoothies. Plus, if you need to make another kind of rest stop, you’ll find kind messages from strangers scrawled all over the bathroom walls.

Another great coffee shop is FIKA, a bright and stylish Sweden-inspired spot that’s a favourite for studying, reading a book, or simply taking it easy. They serve specialty drinks such as a spiced cardamom latte, lavender white hot chocolate, and a mean iced coffee, too – perfect for enjoying on their airy patio in the summer.

Other local favourites include famed Toronto chain Jimmy’s Coffee as well as i deal coffee, Cafe Pamenar and Livelihood Cafe.

Exploring the alleyways of Kensington Pl.

See where creativity spills onto the streets

Music, street performances, murals and more fill the streets of Kensington Market with endless inspiration and photo opportunities. With so many artists around, you’ll be pressed to find wall space that doesn’t boast even a speck of paint. They’ve truly made Kensington their own.

Some of my favourite murals are a photo collage on Kensington Ave off St Andrew and a huge Alphonse Mucha inspired mural at Augusta and Oxford. Parked in front the latter, you’ll also find Yvonne Bambrick’s infamous Garden Car, a teeny tiny city park/community art project which has been sprouting in the same spot each summer since ’07. Make sure you keep your eyes up as you explore hidden corners and back alleys, you never know what else you’ll find!

Street performers

While street performers and pop-up concerts may be a little harder to track, if the sun is out you’re sure to stumble upon some talented buskers at Bellevue Square Park. To increase your odds, come by for Pedestrian Sundays. The whole market is blocked off from traffic on the last Sunday of every summer month, opening it up for people and their experimentations. Support artists directly, too, by checking out the Kensington Market Art Fair.

The Winter Solstice Festival also takes over the market annually on December 21st, lighting up the longest night of the year with creativity and passion.

Lanterns on display at Dancing Days

Shop around for locally made goods

Naturally, the storefronts in Kensington Market sell products by people just as diverse as its residents. Creativity is concentrated at a few charming stores offering handmade and locally produced goods that range from artwork to accessories to home decor, and more.

First off, Kid Icarus is a sweet, stylish screen printing studio and gift shop all in one. They focus on paper products like greeting cards and stationary, but you’ll find pins, soap and other creative crafts, too. Everything in store is made by Canadian artists and artisans, and it’s irresistibly cute.

Painted house

Outside of Dancing Days

Another good place to pick up Canadian-made gifts is The Blue Banana Market. The giant store is practically a warehouse for locally made goods and novelty items from around the globe. Then, for comic book lovers, manga fans, and graphic novel enthusiasts, there’s The Beguiling. You’ll find the famed comic book store just a couple steps from the market on College Ave. Even if you weren’t looking for any of those, there’s something about it that just draws you in.

Finally, if you’re looking for some unique jewellery, you’re in luck. One Love is one man’s tiny storefront selling handcrafted goods and jewellery, with a smile. You can also find other similarly handmade pieces displayed on tabletops around the market. Follow your instinct as you stroll the streets and see what speaks to you!

One of Kensington Market’s many fruit stands

Pick up some specialty ingredients

Grocery shopping might be an underrated form of entertainment, but one of the big draw-ins of Kensington Market is its high density of specialty grocers. There’s nothing better than treating yourself to some of the freshest ingredients you can get. Whether you’re cooking up a special meal or just having a snack, you’ll see the difference that freshness makes.

Even if you don’t have a kitchen at your disposal, these spots can help you feel right at home. There’s nothing better than fresh bread from Toronto’s favourite Blackbird Baking Co. topped with your favourite creamy delight from the Global Cheese Shoppe just around the corner.

Global Cheese

For carnivores, Sanagan’s Meat Locker is your local go-to. They emphasize building relationships with farmers, meaning you can trace everything in store back to its source. All that’s left to do is let the helpful staff guide you to picking the perfect cut. Next, you’ll find fruit and vegetable stands all around the market to add a little colour to your meal, while House of Spice will help bring the flavour. You’re sure to discover something new while you’re in there, too.

If you’re looking for place to shop that’s a little better rounded, 4 Life Natural Foods has it all when it comes to organic goods. With spacious aisles, wooden shelves and so many ethically sourced food options, the whole experience of being there is simply a pleasure.

Kensington Mall

Discover the wonder of thrift shops

Kensington Market is truly a haven for lovers of vintage. With shops selling unique finds around every corner, its no wonder the area’s residents all look so cool. Plus, buying secondhand clothes is a simple way to take it easy on Mother Earth.

Perhaps the most well-known vintage shop in the area is Courage My Love, a cozy and colourful store perfect for finding cashmere pieces, theatrical accessories, beads, buttons and other DIY necessities, as well as the perfect pair of cowboy boots. Another favourite is Sub Rosa Vintage just next door, which boasts a hand picked selection of clothes more in line with today’s fashion trends. Meanwhile, Vintage Depot has top tier threads in just about any shape or colour, including some designer finds, Exile delivers on the costume department and Bungalow mixes the old with the new making it a one-stop shop for any lover of retro style.

If you’re in the mood for a little shopping spree, you’ll find the highest concentration of other vintage shops on Kensington Ave around Courage My Love and Sub Rosa.

CN Tower seen from Chinatown

Explore neighbouring Chinatown

A mere block away from the heart of Kensington Market is another bustling urban community. Chinatown is full of family-owned business of all sorts, but the main attraction is definitely the food. While the number of restaurants serving different variations on the same cuisine was a little overwhelming at first, after a little exploring I’ve narrowed down my favourite spots, depending on what you’re looking for.

Chefs working at Mother’s Dumplings

Dumplings? Try Mother’s Dumplings, and watch the little bundles of flavour be made right in front of your eyes. Noodles? Despite the name, Chinese Traditional Buns serves some awesome Dan Dan Noodles, without the frills. Soup? Phở Hưng has all you could want, and more. Sandwich? Banh Mi Nguyen Huong serves Banh Mi that’s quick, cheap and most of all delicious. Buns? Now, those are top-tier at Mashion Bakery.

The post What to Do and See in Toronto’s Kensington Market appeared first on To Europe And Beyond.

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doodlewash · 7 years

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Today I present a six half pan Limited Edition Summer Nights set and a French Mineral dot card from Letter Sparrow handmade watercolors. A dot card sample of Indigo was also included. I’ll present some simple swatches and examples, and a couple of short videos that highlight the paints. Should you fancy these paints, their’s a little something for you at the end.

Handmade watercolors are all the rage these days! So that there is hopefully no confusion, I preface what I’m about to present with this – especially for you Stan if you are reading this. Handmade watercolors handle a bit differently than commercial brands. I like handmade watercolors, so of course my writing is going to reflect that view. Some people do not like how handmade watercolors handle/look. They are often more semi-transparent when used concentrated, especially mineral and Mayan pigments. Those down there on the dot card, look transparent to me. They typically lift easily. Some handmade brands or pigments have a finer consistency than others. In my opinion, the Letter Sparrow set has a fine consistency. Handmade watercolor is not inexpensive. Half pans for this brand start at $9. Just like commercial brands, each maker has their own formula and process, and price range. They are all a little different. I consider handmades a creative investment, but I realize they aren’t for everyone. The good thing is, there are plenty of watercolor options out there for wide variety of preferences and budgets. Let’s move on to the exploration!

First a little bit about the owner of Letter Sparrow- Kelly Hollstrom. Kelly is delightful and enthusiastic- a woman with a vision for her business who has had the foresight to change with the market, and region she relocated to. In her career, she’s taught hand lettering and workshops. When we were interacting, she had an air of buoyancy and excitement about her.

“I love watercolor, lettering, calligraphy, nature, food, gardening, traveling, and being with my family & besties. I’ve lived and traveled all over the U.S. I’m married to an amazing guy. He’s a pastor on staff at a great church right outside of St. Louis, MO. I homeschool my fun & imaginative son during the day and run my business for 2 hours in the afternoon and after my son goes to bed. I’ve never run my business full time, even when I was doing hand lettering & workshops. We got 2 puppies in January so we’ve been busy with them.

My inspiration for making paints is mostly nature and art. I just naturally grab colors from things I see and love putting them together to make my limited edition sets. My sets are usually only available for the month they are sold in. This is because I have SO many sets planned.

About my paints:

I started making watercolor paint in August 2016 and started selling them the very end of November 2016. Most of my paints are single pigment and non-toxic. I plan on putting complete pigment info, lightfastness, opacity, etc. on each listing this summer. My binder is all natural and includes pure ingredients.”

What exactly are handmade watercolors you may ask? This is general info, and not brand specific. They are usually pigment and a binder- gum Arabic. Sometimes other ingredients are added, like honey, clove oil or other preservatives or moldicides. Gum Arabic is the hardened sap from the Acacia tree, and is the same binder used by commercial brands. The ingredients are mixed and hand mulled with a muller and mulling slab- those are usually made out of glass. Then they are poured into pans and left to cure for a period of time. It is a time consuming process. Pans may need to be filled more than once due to shrinkage during the curing process. This process can often take weeks. Good raw pigments to make paints with can be expensive. There are plenty of books and info to be had about pigments and paint mixtures in general. I’ve enjoyed the pigment stories and info in this one- Urban Watercolor Sketching by Felix Schienberger. It’s enough info to be interesting, but not too much to be overwhelming. Plus you get some painting techniques and lessons too. His style is unique, loose and fun. I recommend using the “Look Inside” option before you buy, or check it out from the library to see how you like it.

Back to the paints.

All the reviews in the Letter Sparrow Etsy shop are 5 stars. One set that originally caught my eye was the LOVE-ly set– French Red, Super Sparkle Gold, Ultramarine Rose, Sterling Silver. The gold really is super sparkly.

The word that came to mind when I opened the Summer Nights palette- enchanting. It brought to mind the feeling of deep enchanted and magical forests. “And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul” – John Muir.

This little set is richly pigmented. Aubergine Violet, Gray Ochre, Sterling Silver, Veronese Green, Nitroso Green, Sparkling Gold. The Silver and Gold are very shimmery. All rewet easily.

This video features two colors- Aubergine Violet and Sterling Silver in a Midori Kraft Paper Spiral Ring Notebook. I was able to get a lot of depth and variation with just the Aubergine Violet. It has amazing tinting strength and I found it interesting to work with. It’s a lovely color, and can look almost black when used very concentrated. I’m fond of painting on non-traditional papers, this post features a few.

The swatch card that the tin came with is hand lettered and painted, and has magnets on the back so it stays in the lid for storage- I like that it came with it’s own swatch card. The half pans have magnets on the bottoms and the colors are written on the sides. Below, I put a black line under the Sterling Silver and Sparkle Gold swatches, they cover really well. Dry swatches on the left, and wet in wet on the right. I used all the colors but the gold in the little mountain sample. Swatches and sample done on Arches 90lb cold press watercolor paper.

I took a video of the swatch above to show the sparkle. For some reason I couldn’t get it to show up clear and crisp in this post. Technologies! Anywho, if you want to check it out, I posted it yesterday on my Instagram account.

One thing that I’d like to mention for the Hobonichi enthusiasts- this brand worked well on the fabulously thin Tomoe River Paper← that’s a link to fountain pen inks being written on the paper- mesmerizing. This is the paper used in the Hobonichi line up. In my experience, not all handmade watercolors are satisfactory on this paper. If you are curious about the Hobonichi, here’s the link to the Japanese site. Because I use an A6 size Hobonichi Techo as an art journal, there are a boat load of examples on my Instagram account- @jessicaseacrest. If you are curious, check out my feed and/or ask me questions in the comments below.

It’s apparent from my examples lately, that I’m presently stuck on trees. I’m also into Yupo right now- both sample paintings are on that. If your not familiar with Yupo, it is “a synthetic (polypropylene) substrate…with a non-porous surface that repels water.” It is super fun and feels like an adventure every time I use it. Click either of those Yupo links for more info. This version here is the white, but it also comes in translucent.

Magical Mushroom Forest

Usually I’m all about the gold, but I was so fond of the Sterling Silver I had a hard time moving on to the gold. But you can see some of it here in the 15 second video.

Because I have trouble not going full tilt with the pigments, sometimes my best service in showing them is with odd swatches. Arches 90lb cold press watercolor paper was used- dry paper on the left, wet in wet on the right. This helps with spotting similarities in colors too. Mostly those seem to be the two greens and the two darker reds. I ran out of room on my first attempt, so I did it again on a larger piece. I especially fancy the Apricot.

I love how these colors look together. Used- Apricot, Turquoise, Sky Blue, Lavender Blue, Plum, and some of the gold from the Summer Nights set. The Plum was really fun on Yupo, it has a depth to it.

I’ve enjoyed this brand, it’s beautiful, and they offer interesting curated sets. I like featuring and supporting small businesses and makers. There is one thing that seems to run through all handmade watercolor makers that I’ve interacted with or purchased from- a passion and enthusiasm for their products. The Summer Nights set featured here will be available next Saturday on the July 15th restock. The half pan set is $59 and the full pan set is $107. Check out Instagram- @lettersparrow for photos of previously released sets and swatches, or Facebook.com/lettersparrow. A link to the shop in case you want to check it out and ♥ it. Questions about the paints- email Kelly at [email protected]. Here is the restock schedule:

“Limited Edition Summer Schedule:

July 15th – The “SUMMER NIGHTS” set and the “BLUES SET”

August 5th – The “LETTER SPARROW 12” and the “GREENS SET”

September – The “LETTER SPARROW 24” (perfect for Christmas gifts!) and The “EARTH SET”

Kelly offered this 10% off coupon to Doodlewash readers- use coupon code: LETTERSPARROW. It’s valid until August 31, 2017. Yay- thanks Kelly! And thank for the opportunity to enjoy, and review your paints.

There are several other reviews on Doodlewash of handmade watercolors- Greenleaf & Blueberry, Pfeiffer Art Supply & Redwood Willow, and Anthesis Arts.

As always, thank you for taking the time to read this review. I’ll be back soon with another one 🙂

Happy painting and sketching!

Celebrate World Watercolor Month with us during the month of July! Click here for more info.

DOODLEWASH REVIEW: Letter Sparrow Handmade Watercolors Today I present a six half pan Limited Edition Summer Nights set and a French Mineral dot card from…

#featured #handmade watercolors #Letter Sparrow

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