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thegoldensanctuary · 7 months

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Louis XV's royal clutter

Castles opened to the public tend to put a great emphasis on furnitures, paintings and panellings. This focus often occurs at the expense of smaller every day items, such as tools, services, boxes and so on.

Even as far back as the 18th century, inventories of the garde meuble- the administration in charge of the French royal furnitures and collections- often omitted those smaller items, in favour of a greater focus on the furnitures themselves.

Several exception that that rule do exist for instance : When King Louis XV died the 10th of May 1774 in Versailles, his Versailles private cabinets were opened and searched, all the cash and the precious items contained in his cupboards were listed and described in an inventory made 27 days after his death.

Said inventory isn't located in the documents of the House of King(O1 series of the french national archives) like it is usually the case, but in the King's papers, namely in the K series of the national archives, more specifically the K 153.

The document in question was never published nor translated to this date.

I decided to publish it for the first time and translate it entirely to give an idea of the of the kind of clutter that was present in the king's private cabinets in Versailles at the time of his death :

Here is the translation of the provided text into English:

1: Four gold snuffboxes, three enameled, one guilloché,

2: A black lacquer snuffbox mounted in gold,

3: A snuffbox of black tortoiseshell.

4: An ivory candy box.

5: Two watches encrusted with diamonds with their chains also adorned with diamonds

6: An enameled watch with diamond hands and button, a gold cord, and two seals encrusted with diamonds,

7: A garnet box watch adorned with diamonds, attached with a blue ribbon,

9: A large rock crystal flask with a gold stopper, and two seals encrusted with diamonds

10: A small crystal flask

11: A large enameled gold flask

12: Two plain gold flasks in a roussette box

13: A shell flask

14: A rock crystal flask in a roussette case

15: Seven math instrument cases, some in plain gold, others enameled, and some encrusted with diamonds

16: A side case with an enameled gold chain but with diamond buttons

17: Two pocket cases, one enameled gold adorned with diamonds and rubies, and one in jade

18: Four lorgnettes - two in gold, two in silver, and one in copper

19: Two pencil cases, one enameled gold adorned with diamonds, the other containing a compass

20: A Baradel in gold

21: A small portable silver barometer

22: Four tablets in gold, lacquer, or Burgos, one of tortoiseshell with diamond cyphers

23: Three souvenirs, one of enameled gold

24: A hunting knife with a gold handle

25: A dog collar with diamond initials.

26: A large lacquer tablet containing eight portraits of the royal family adorned in gold

27: A lacquer tablet with a portrait inside

28: Four portraits in three plain boxes

29: An ivory barrel adorned with gold

30: A piece of jade from the Amazon River

31: A Sèvres porcelain lorgnette

32: A gold and Magellan telescope

33: A porcelain Sèvres eyewash basin

34: A small red leather writing set adorned with gold, with a gold seal and pencil

35: A damask pruning knife

36: A double-bladed mother-of-pearl knife with a gold fleur-de-lys

37: Three glasses cases, one of tortoiseshell adorned with gold

38: An approaching eyeglass adorned with silver

39: A watch with its chain and seals, all in rubies and diamonds

41: A mathematics case in yellow lacquer with diamond buttons

42: Two almanacs mounted in silver and marcasites in their roussette cases

45: Three seals, two in gold, one in stone

47: Four rings, three with diamonds or coloured stones, one with an engraved stone

48: An English lorgnette

49: Four canes - one with a gold handle, one with a porcelain crutch, one with a gold apple adorned with diamonds, one with a golden apple-wood handle and parasol

50: Six watches - one in gold, enameled with a steel chain and chime, two other enameled, three other guilloché gold

51: A steel mirror

52: A gold egg cup in a roussette case

53: A gold writing set with Charlier paintings, in miniature in a roussette case

54: A very beautiful crystal vase, measuring 9 inches in height

55: A gold breakfast set consisting of a Sevres porcelain tray, two identical cups, a gold teapot and sugar pot, two spoons, a strainer, and a sugar tong made of the same metal

56: A gold-enameled punch pot with a pump, and a second pot of Saxony porcelain

57: A small enameled gold punch pot with a pump and a crystal basin

58: Two gold-enameled candlesticks with their bobeches

59: A crystal breakfast set surrounded by gold, consisting of three goblets

60: Another crystal breakfast set consisting of two carafes and a covered goblet, with the tray of enameled gold

61: A red leather box, edged with gold, containing 12 gold spoons and 12 gold forks, two roast oval plates, two appetizer plates, two dessert plates, and six dishes, all made of the same metal, with one missing, which is in the possession of Mr. de Fontanieu.

62: A set in a red leather box containing a lacquer box with a marabout, a teapot, a spirit lamp, six coffee spoons, all made of gold, three cups, a sugar pot, and a milk jug made of Sevres porcelain

63: A set in a walnut wood box containing 12 gold tableware, twelve knives with rosewood handles, gold cup and rosette, steel blades, twelve knives with Sevres porcelain handles adorned with cup rosette landau, plus four gold plates

64: A red lacquer box reinforced with gold, containing a Sevres porcelain bowl adorned with gold, two gold spoons, a covered crystal goblet adorned with gold, two porcelain pasta pots from Sevres

65: A wooden case enclosed in a black lacquer box containing a marabout made of gold with handles made of Sevres porcelain, two large sugar pots, two saucers, and two chocolate cups made of porcelain, a spirit lamp, adorned with gold, a square crystal flask adorned with gold, two coffee spoons, and a large gold spoon

66: A gold-plated copper microscope in its pyramid case

Dom Noël, Planche 19 Microscope tripode.

67: A writing set with 12 zodiac signs

68: A wooden box reinforced with silver containing a pharmacy adorned with silver

69: A yellow lacquer box enclosed in a red leather box

70: A graphometer in a red leather case

71: A gold compass with its stand and a level in a sharkskin case

72: A black lacquer box

73: A breakfast set consisting of a painted sheet metal tray and two porcelain cups

74: A writing set made of silver-reinforced roussette

75: Supplementary gold tableware, three coffee spoons, one tea spoon, a gold set in a roussette case

76: A small black lacquer box

77: A small oak chest, we weren't able to find the key

78: A box of tools with wooden handles and silver ferrules

79: A box of Kingswood,but the key wasn't found

80: A gold-braided telescope

81: A coffee pot for four gold cups with jasper handles and six gold coffee spoons, in a leather case made to contain 12.

#historical research #historical #history #rococo #18th century #Versailles #louis xv of france #Louis XV #palace of versailles

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archiveoftara · 2 months

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London Boy

Part 2

I found myself under a pile of bills. Utility bills, water bills, rent, things that needed to be paid but I don't even have a single penny to feed myself .

This small precious dream of mine is costing my life but I can't back out right now.

Six months ago I ran away from my toxic family, to make a living in London, to own a jewelry company but it didn't go as planned.

I banged my head on the table in frustration. What am I gonna do?

After a moment of contemplating my life, I begin to clean up the mess. Slowly picking up scattered papers when my eyes fell on an advert.

Lockwood and Co

The prestigious psychical agency requires a junior field operative and an assistant researcher. Duties will include on-site analysis of reported hauntings and the containment of same. The successful applicant will be SENSITIVE to supernatural phenomena, well-dressed, preferably female and not above fifteen years in age.

Unsuccessful applicants will include time-wasters, fraudsters and persons with criminal records. Apply in writing, together with a photograph, to 35 Portland Row, London W1.

I carefully folded the paper and rushed to my room.

33..34..ah 35. This must be place.

I check the advert again just to make sure I'm at the right place.

I fix my hair and clear my throat one more time before ringing the bell.

"Um hi-"

"Are you Arif's new girl?"

"....who's Arif?"

"Runs the corner store, usually sends someone over with donuts as you don't have any, you must be here for the interview."

I nod awkwardly. Not the best start I see

"Name?"

"Y/n y/l/n. Are you Mr. Lockwood?"

"Me? No." It seem like he is offended. "The last girl just went down but from the look of her, she won't take long."

I step inside the wide hallway, filled with artefacts, books and a chipped plant pot around the corner. This is where they keep their rapiers I guess.

"You win George. That was the last one."

"Then who's this?" The boy named George pointed at me as if I'm some alien. (and I took offense to that)

A boy with very bright, dark eyes and nice lopsided grin said "Hello, I'm Anthony Lockwood." I shook his hand and introduced myself.

"What's your talent?" Lockwood asked.

I gave a small smile "I don't have one."

For a minute I thought the time stopped. I tried to read their faces. I'm sure they're gonna kick me out.

"Well that's fine, we're looking for a researcher anyway and it doesn't need much talent, does it George?" He looked at the boy, sitting at the corner sofa.

He wiped his glasses on his t-shirt "I don't mind."

"Do you have any past experience?"

"Not really." I blushed. "But I am a fast learner, I will work hard. I really need this job."

"George will train you so don't worry." He clasped.

"This means..I got the job?"

"Yes. Welcome to Lockwood and Co"

My eyes shined like a diamond. "I'm not going to disappoint you sir, I desperately needed this job. I'll do anything, thank you so so much." I thanked them like my life depended on it and it kinda did. Lockwood and George exchanged a look (they were talking in some code word I can feel it.) It doesn't matter. I won't be here for too long.

It's been a few weeks since I've been working as a assistant researcher. We also have a new member, her name is Lucy Carlyle. She's really cool, we get along well. Lucy stays with them, they offered me accommodation, too but I refused, I still have a dream to chase.

The work is actually interesting but George makes it a bit difficult for me, he's a perfectionist. I don't blame him. I just try my best to live up to the standards.

It's the beginning of November, the nights are chilly lately. I've just finished some papers regarding the latest case.

"We should head back it's getting late." George looks at his watch.

"Hmm?" People already left the library, it was just me and him now.

I quickly stood up but felt dizzy. I felt an arm around my waist, I felt a pair of warm brown eyes on me. His mole is cute..has he always been this cute?

"Y/n you alright?" George holds my arm.

I clear my throat "yes. perfectly fine." I quickly gathered my books and walk as fast as I could. The moment I step out of the building I was welcomed by the chilly wind hitting my face. I stood for a moment, my back against the wall.

I feel so weird.

"Y/n, It's best we see a doctor." He frowned.

"I'm fine."

"You wanna walk by yourself? Alright, Let's see that." George scoffed.

"Why are you so mean George Karim?" I winced.

"You're being crazy. You clearly need help."

"George, I can manage."

"At least let me walk you home." He insisted.

"Nope." With that I make my way home little did I know what was waiting for me.

Maybe I should've been more polite. All he wanted was to help me but I'm a big girl I can manage. It's just a little fever. I slowly made my way to the neighborhood when I felt something strange. I feel nauseas, like something rotten is near me. I felt a heaviness on my chest, something was pulling me away. Soon I felt the cold hard ground, I tried to call for help but nothing came out of my mouth that's when I heard a sound of metal drawn.

"Are you alright?" He keenly looked at me.

"What happened?" I panted.

"You were ghostlocked. Please just let me walk you home we can argue later." He pulled me with him.

I think my dream is gonna end before it even starts.

Hello my dear readers, first chapter is done and dusted. Excuse my crappy writing. Hope you like the chapter. Do let me know your thoughts in the comment section. I love you!!!

Word count: 968

#fandom #lockwood and co #george cubbins #george karim x reader #george karim #35 portland row #reader x character #fanfic

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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

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exactly the spring

Pairing/setting: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader, college!AU

Summary: Reserved biology student Ushijima finds himself falling in love when you, an adorably disorganized art student, wander into the greenhouse.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff, kissing

AN: Hi!! So, the inspiration for this one sprang from the beautiful, sexi brain of Emme ( @doinmybesthere ) way back in MARCH ahem anyway, it's done! I hope it's just as soft and intimate as you envisioned<33 Also, big shoutout to my beautiful friends Arobi ( @daqueenobooty ) and Cee ( @spacelabrathor ) for being wonderful betas and giving me such kind comments:) I hope you enjoy, and as always don't be shy about leaving comments or coming to chat! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

p.s. check out this amazing art that @/54prowl made of plant boy ushi!! :D

Plants don’t talk back, Ushijima learned as a toddler. He’d babble to them in nonsensical phrases as his mother worked in the garden, and they’d only sway in the wind and listen, waxy under his chubby fingers.

A volleyball doesn’t talk back, either, not even through its bounces and echoes on hands and hard surfaces. It doesn’t listen as easily as plants, but can be herded and shaped like putty into a winning thing if you touch it right. This, Ushijima learned at his father’s hand and carried with him through childhood and adolescence.

The joy and puzzlement of you is that you do both. You listen so intently and openly with your steady eyes and soft body as the words pour out of him. And then, you reply. With your clear voice and new perspective, you offer something new. You offer companionship.

It was the second week of spring semester that you wandered into the greenhouse, eyes lit by the sun and sketchbook under one arm. Ushijima was repotting a large fern, dirt up to his elbows as he kneeled on the floor. He barely gave you a second glance, preoccupied with nestling the plant’s root system comfortably.

You settled a short distance away, crossing your legs to sit on the tile floor in front of an orange tree to sketch its still-closed flower buds with charcoal pencils. He kept working as you did, the sun sliding across glass, shadows shifting into the early evening of winter. When the sun was threatening to set over the city skyline — even with the greenhouse where it sits on the roof of the biology building — he turned to tell you he was closing up, only to find you gone. In your place, sitting on the wooden table that held newly planted basil and sage, was a drawing.

It was a single branch, detailed in shades of charcoal down to the last dewdrop. At the bottom, looping handwriting scrawled, “thank you for the peace.”

That night, he tacked it up above his desk in his dorm next to the postcard from Tendō and hoped you’d come back.

And you do, a couple of days later, on a Saturday. He looks up from where he’s filling in the logbook, this time, catching your gaze and holding it for a moment before you break away to survey the room. Today, he thinks you looked breathtaking. You’re wearing a long, flowing skirt and a sweater that makes him want to feel how soft it is, and how soft you are in it, and by the time his brain catches up with his thoughts, he’s been staring too long and your eyes have wandered back to him. It’s raining, today — it never really snows in this city, he’s learned — and shadowy droplets play across your face as they drip down the greenhouse’s arched glass ceiling, highlighting the curve of your cheekbone and making your eyes glow softly.

He clears his throat and looks back to the thick spiral-bound book on the table before him. Sometimes, when he meets people for the first time, he knows he can come across as intimidating. That worked out for him in high school and on the volleyball court, but in his adulthood, it’s been more of a hindrance than a help. It makes it… difficult to make friends here, where he doesn’t already know anyone.

And the last thing he wants is to scare you away. The last thing he wants is to break the peace you’ve apparently found here.

Which is why he barely dares to breathe when he looks up to find you approaching him where he’s perched on a sturdy wooden stool.

“Hi,” you smile and lilt, and god if it isn’t the most beautiful word Ushijima’s ever heard, if it isn’t the prettiest smile he’s seen.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t want to scare you away.

“Uhm,” you start again, when the silence makes it clear he’s waiting for you to speak, “I have an art assignment,” you start digging around in your shoulder bag as you speak, “to draw a, um, what’s it called?”

“I don’t know.”

You pause in your rifling and pin him with such a sunny smile it makes his knee start bouncing. And you laugh, too, which officially replaces your “hi” as the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Ha, you’re funny,” you resume digging, “it was um, pretty leafy and... tropical, I think? Oh! Here.” Triumphantly, you produce a wrinkled paper from your bag. It’s the first imperfect thing Ushijima’s found out about you, that you’re shit at keeping your belongings organized, and he files it away for later reference. You hold the paper in front of your face and squint slightly to read in the shifting light. “Canna indica.”

Canna indica, native to tropical climates, notable as a minor food crop for South American Native populations for thousands of years.

“And I was told that you have it, here, in the greenhouse.”

Ushijima nods and finds himself relieved that this is what you’re asking him. Plants, he can do.

“We do. Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes, please,” you also sound relieved, like he’s provided the solution to every problem you’ve ever had.

He unfolds himself from the stool, setting down his pen as he goes. You take a step back and look up at him mildly, as though you hadn’t realized quite how huge he is.

“This way,” he indicates, leading you deeper into the maze that is the biology department’s greenhouse. The winding path back to the tropical room gives him a moment to sink back into the earthy peace of being here, even if now there’s someone sharing that peace.

The temperature change from the warm main greenhouse to the balmy tropical room prompts Ushijima to shed his flannel outer layer, hanging it on the nail hammered by the door while you step in behind him.

“Whew,” you exhale, shrugging off your soft cardigan as well, “it’s hot in here.”

Ushijima hums in agreement and tries not to look too hard at the patch of skin revealed by your cropped tank top. Canna indica isn’t too far into the room, so he just gently moves past draping leaves and ceramic pots.

“Here,” he stops, holding back leaves for you. He stops breathing again when you duck under his arm and end up so close in the narrow aisle that he can smell your shampoo. The moment passes, and he can breathe again when you breeze past him and squat down to peer at the bright, waxy red leaves of your subject.

“Beautiful,” you murmur, and he silently agrees.

You’re leaning so close to the plant he’s afraid you might topple over when you make a noise of realization and sit back on your butt to rifle through your bag once again. Ushijima knows he should probably leave you to it, but he’s glad he waited just an extra minute when you pull out a pair of glasses and pop them on your face. Adorably.

“That’s better.” You’re looking back at canna indica, now, at a normal distance.

He’s figured you’ve forgotten he’s there when you start to pull out pastels from your seemingly bottomless bag, so he turns to leave you.

A soft, “hey,” calls him back to you, however, and he’s met by your face glowing eerily in the shifting rain-light. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

When he locks up that afternoon, he finds another charcoal drawing waiting for him on the table near the door, this time of his favorite agapanthus africanus. No note, this time, but he attaches all the sounds he heard from you today in its place. He also finds your cardigan forgotten next to where you were sitting and carefully folds it for when you come back.

The drawing joins the orange branch on his wall-- an odd starter garden, he thinks, but all the more precious because it came from you.

The next time he sees you isn’t in the greenhouse, but instead at a cafe a couple of blocks away, two weeks later. He’s walking past, gym bag slung over his shoulder, when he hears your laugh ring out across the outdoor seating area. His eyes find you, head tipped back in sending peals of mirth into the lively spring air. It’s the first truly warm day of the season, though you and your companion are the only patrons sitting outside, and the sun catches on your glasses sat atop your head.

Your friend says something apparently hilarious, because your giggles redouble, and an honest-to-god snort pushes out of your nose. Ushijima catalogues it in his ever-growing list of sounds you make, and pauses at the crosswalk, halfway turned back to keep one eye on you and one on the light. If you were alone, he might’ve approached you and told you that he still has your sweater in the greenhouse, waiting on a shelf between succulents, but he doesn’t want to interrupt your— date?

He isn’t sure, but the person sat there with you seems like someone you might date. Clearly also an art student, judging by the carefully disheveled blue hair and combat boots. Are you the type to date someone with blue hair? Unlikely, he decides. You seem too… bright. Too floaty to be so concerned with looking like you don’t care how you look.

Ushijima’s still debating whether you find blue hair attractive when the crosswalk light begins its countdown and he starts across the street. And he almost makes it all the way across, too, when a voice calls—

“Wait! Hey!”

He turns partially because it sounds urgent enough that it might be an emergency, and his grandmother would roll in her grave if he remained a bystander to some horrific accident. But it’s you, standing up from your seat and waving him back over. He glances at the crosswalk countdown, which lights up red as it ticks from four to three, then turns and jogs back towards you, waving a hand apologetically to the cars waiting at the light. You meet him at the metal fence around the cafe seating area, and now that you’re standing, he can see you’re wearing a yellow sundress that cuts off at your calves and drapes over your hips like the fabric was spun from pure light.

“Hello.” Ushijima talks first this time because if he doesn’t refocus his brain on something else he knows he won’t be able to stop staring.

“Hi! Sorry about that, uh, and I’m sure you have places to be, but, um, did I leave my cardigan at the greenhouse? I can’t find it, and I know I have a tendency to forget things, so,” you finish with a laugh, one hand fiddling with the rings on the other.

“Yes, you did. I put it on a shelf in case you came back.”

“Oh! That’s great!” You sound relieved, and Ushijima’s suddenly very grateful he didn’t take it down to the bio department’s lost and found like they’re technically supposed to. “Is there maybe a time I can come pick it up? When you’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there all day tomorrow, opening at nine.”

He can’t tell if he sounds a little too eager, and he’s about to soften his meaning by telling you that they’re open today, too, and anyone can hand you a sweater, but you’re already smiling big and sunny and telling him,

“I’ll see you at nine, then. Do you drink coffee?”

He doesn’t; his coaches have always told him that caffeine can only harm his athletic performance.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I’ll see you at nine, with coffee.”

Ushijima says goodbye and turns to wait at the crosswalk again while you swirl your way back to your seat and pick up your conversation with your friend. He can feel two pairs of eyes on him as he crosses the street, red numbers blinking down from ten, and can’t help but turn to look back as he steps onto the opposite sidewalk. Where your friend tactfully looks down into their cup of tea, you catch his eye with yours and wave. He lifts his hand halfway in a goodbye before an eighteen-wheeler stops at the intersection and blocks you from him.

Ushijima’s normal work attire is typical of an average agricultural biology student accustomed to being up to their elbows in dirt every day: practical cargo shorts, dirt-stained but sturdy sneakers, a “plant dad” t-shirt (a gift from Tendō when they’d said their goodbyes and gone away to college), and a soft cotton flannel. He’s usually satisfied with this for his shift at the greenhouse, expecting to be mud-covered at least up to his wrists by the end of the day.

But today… Today, he pauses in the dorm bathroom to scrub his face raw, and he clips and shapes his nails like his mother used to do for him every Saturday. He normally only does it before tournaments, now, and it calms his nerves to feel prepared for a Big Event, even if that event is only handing you your gently pilled cashmere cardigan and receiving a coffee he won’t drink in return.

The air that morning is heady with spring, earthy and alive, reminding Ushijima of lying beneath the hedge along his mother’s garden to pass notes to the girl next door. He was seven and she was nine, so naturally she knew everything he didn’t. She knew about the planets and why worms live in dirt and how to spell the word “catastrophe,” and Ushijima would’ve bet his whole weekly allowance that she was the coolest person in the world, if he knew what betting was. (She did, and once bet him half an ice cream sandwich that he couldn’t climb the oak tree in his backyard all the way to the top. He did, and then twisted his ankle on the way down, and she brought him an ice cream sandwich every day for a week as an apology.) She was all shiny, long black hair and dark eyes and fast words, nothing like the spring blooming around him.

You, on the other hand, are exactly the spring.

He stops at his favorite pastry place on the way to work to pick up two fresh cream donuts. The line is just dwindling from the height of the morning rush, so he manages to make it to the biology building just five minutes before he normally does.

Morning sun sends rainbows through the automatic misting spray as Ushijima unlocks the greenhouse door, letting a burst of humidity out into the rest of the building. The spiral-bound log book is there on the desk, a thick parchment bookmark sticking out from where whoever closed last night marked the page.

Ushijima places his backpack and pastry bag on the desk and reaches to hang his key on its hook just when there’s a knock on the door.

“I know I’m early,” you start, edging your way into the room with a paper coffee cup in each hand. “But I saw it was already open, so...”

Ushijima smiles despite himself. In their second year Oikawa Tooru had told him that his smiles can be unnerving, but he can’t help it right now. You look so lovely today, in jeans and a silky tank top, with a certain morning tenderness in the way you hold yourself.

“It’s okay, come in. I just need to check the temperature controls and I’ll be done opening.”

“Sounds good,” you reply, smiling back.

As he makes his way to the temp controls on the Southern wall, you perch on the wooden stool and set down the coffee.

With his back turned to you for a moment, you allow yourself to slouch, planting two hands on the table and stretching your shoulders with a sigh. It’s earlier than you normally get out of bed, let alone actually leave your apartment, and you can already feel a quiet exhaustion setting into your bones.

But this is worth it, you remind yourself. Worth it to talk to the beautiful boy with broad shoulders and gentle hands.

He’d been unexpected. That first day in the greenhouse, you’d sat down with the intention to calm down from a tedious school day and nothing more. Your hands had moved of their own volition on that second drawing of the orange branch, scribbling out a hasty message that made your cheeks burn. But he was so present that day, in the corner of your eye but staying respectfully out of your space. And you’re not blind -- you saw the muscles under his shirt as he lifted an entire small tree in its pot. You saw the startling shade of green his eyes took on in the sun. You saw it all, and it drew you back, and now you’re here.

When he joins you back at the table, leaning back against it to face you, you stick out your hand and offer your name.

He looks at it for a moment, then back at you.

“I just, uh, realized we never properly introduced ourselves,” you explain, with a hesitant smile.

He smiles again and your heart thuds, then his big hand engulfs yours and he shakes it firmly.

“Wakatoshi. It’s nice to meet you.”

You learn in the following weeks of coming to the greenhouse that Wakatoshi doesn’t like coffee. But he does like tea and donuts, so that’s what you bring him on the mornings you can find it in you to wake up before nine. You sit with him in the greenhouse, talking and listening as he records data and waters plants and sits next to you on the quilt you’ve fallen into the habit of bringing. The occasional professor or student comes through, and you get to watch Wakatoshi show off his brains when he leaves you to help them.

There are several things you learn about him over those weeks. Number one: he never minces words. Two: he prefers grapefruit chapstick over anything else. And three: he kisses like it’s his last day on Earth.

You discover number three late one night when you decide to drop by after class, shooting him a text to make sure he’s still there. Today he’s closing instead of opening, and you missed spending your morning with him.

The city lights cast a different kind of glow at this time of night. They add a distance to everything that’s palpable as you drop your bag by the door.

“Toshi, are you here-- oh, hi.” You turn the corner to find him closing the door to the supply closet.

His cheekbones are highlighted briefly by a billboard outside flashing red.

“You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired. And I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?”

He takes a step towards you and you have to tilt your head back slightly to keep your eyes on his. They’re leaf green and unreadable.

“Yeah, uh,” you wet your lips with your tongue, “is that okay?”

“Yes.” He pauses for a long time, then, watching you carefully in the neon glow of the exit sign. His hand shakes as it reaches up to push your glasses from your face onto your head.

Without them, he looks fuzzy and soft around the edges.

He says, “Can I kiss you?” and it feels like there’s a bird trapped in your ribcage.

“Yes. Kiss me.”

Wakatoshi kisses nothing like you expected, all tongues and teeth and heavy fingers in the dip of your waist. He growls when you gasp and mewl against him, sucking on your lower lip as your hands find purchase in his shirt. He kisses you so absolutely breathless that you think you might pass out. Your knees buckle and you pull away, gasping with your eyes closed for a moment until you come back to yourself.

“Are you alright, little one?”

The endearment makes your cheeks flush with heat and your eyes snap open.

“Yes, I’m alright. Please do it again.”

And so he does it again, and again, and again until you find yourself bringing him home with you on the last bus that goes towards your neighborhood. He’s standing in the aisle, one hand wrapped around a pole and the other wound around you, who’s standing in front of him. He keeps you steady as the bus rounds a corner.

That night, you bring the peace of the greenhouse into your home, and the only thing you find yourself wishing for is that it never leaves.

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima x fem!reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fanfic #hq fanfic #valkyrie writes #exactly the spring #haikyuu fluff #ushijima fluff #don't look at me i'm posting this early bc i'm IMPATIENT #*sobs*

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pearlposts · 4 years

Text

The Best of Soft Rock: More Than A Feeling

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Lowdown Boz Scaggs 5:18

Whenever I Call You “Friend” Kenny Loggins 3:18

Piano Man Billy Joel 5:40

Longer Dan Fogelberg 3:18

Miracles Jefferson Starship 3:33

Lost in Love Air Supply 3:55

More Than I Can Say Leo Sayer 3:39

Rosanna Toto 4:03

More Than a Feeling Boston 3:26

Take It on the Run REO Speedwagon 3:37

Make Me Lose Control Eric Carmen 4:48

Total Eclipse of the Heart Bonnie Tyler 5:35

Living Inside Myself Gino Vannelli 4:25

The Flame Cheap Trick 4:50

Sara Starship 4:23

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Livin’ Thing Electric Light Orchestra 3:34

This Is It Kenny Loggins 3:59

Africa Toto 4:59

Eye In The Sky Alan Parsons Project 4:35

Look What You’ve Done to Me Boz Scaggs 5:18

You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling Daryl Hall & John Oates 4:36

All Out Of Love Air Supply 4:03

Can’t Fight This Feeling REO Speedwagon 4:55

The Search Is Over Survivor 4:14

All by Myself Eric Carmen 7:11

Without You Harry Nilsson 3:21

Year of the Cat Al Stewart 6:38

Dust in the Wind Kansas 3:27

Vincent Don McLean 4:01

Please Come to Boston David Loggins 4:09

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Baby I’m-a Want You Bread 2:32

A Horse with No Name America 4:09

Diamond Girl Seals & Crofts 4:04

I Saw the Light Todd Rundgren 3:01

Blinded by the Light Manfred Mann's Earth Band 3:51

It Might Be You Stephen Bishop 4:14

She’s Gone/Sara Smile/Rich Girl Hall & Oates 3:29

Minute By Minute The Doobie Brothers 3:28

Sentimental Lady Bob Welch 3:46

How Much I Feel Ambrosia 4:44

Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime The Korgis 4:12

If You Leave Me Now Chicago 3:57

Sailing Christopher Cross 4:17

Waiting For A Girl Like You Foreigner 4:52

Against All Odds Phil Collins 3:25

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Ride Like the Wind Christopher Cross 4:32

Saturday in the Park Chicago 3:57

Sister Golden Hair America 3:20

You’re So Vain Carly Simon 4:18

If Bread 2:35

Ooh Baby Baby Linda Ronstadt 2:42

Him Rupert Holmes 3:40

You Are the Woman Firefall 2:45

All I Need Jack Wagner 3:32

Walking In Memphis Marc Cohn 4:19

Making Love Out Of Nothing At All Air Supply 5:01

I Want to Know What Love Is Foreigner 5:00

The Living Years Mike + the Mechanics 5:33

Drive The Cars 3:57

One More Night Phil Collins 4:48

I’ll Be There The Escape Club 4:57

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Summer Breeze Seals & Crofts 3:26

Key Largo Bertie Higgins 3:19

Make It with You Bread 3:12

Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is? Chicago 3:22

Dream Weaver Gary Wright 4:18

Hello It’s Me Todd Rundgren 3:52

Sara Smile Daryl Hall and John Oates 3:12

Chuck E.’s In Love Rickie Lee Jones 3:28

Black Water The Doobie Brothers 4:16

Still the One Orleans 3:56

Hurt So Bad Linda Ronstadt 3:18

Cool Change Little River Band 4:08

Biggest Part Of Me Ambrosia 5:27

Never Be the Same Christopher Cross 4:41

You Can Do Magic America 3:57

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

The Guitar Man Bread 3:45

Tin Man America 3:27

Wildfire Michael Martin Murphey 4:50

25 or 6 to 4 Chicago 4:52

Lotta Love Nicolette Larson 2:43

What a Fool Believes The Doobie Brothers 2:27

Steal Away Robbie Dupree 3:31

You’re the Only Woman Ambrosia 4:22

Sexy Eyes Dr. Hook 3:00

Kiss You All Over Exile 3:30

Even the Nights Are Better Air Supply 3:59

Arthur’s Theme Christopher Cross 3:55

Dance with Me Orleans 3:21

Beautiful in My Eyes Joshua Kadison 4:10

Black Velvet Alannah Myles 4:48

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

California Dreamin’ The Mamas & The Papas 2:54

Kokomo The Beach Boys 3:36

Ventura Highway America 3:32

Listen to the Music The Doobie Brothers 3:27

I Can See Clearly Now Johnny Nash 2:43

It Never Rains in Southern California Albert Hammond 3:38

Thank You For Being A Friend Andrew Gold 4:45

Everything I Own Bread 3:07

When Will I Be Loved Linda Ronstadt 2:10

I Keep Forgettin’ Michael McDonald 3:41

Baby Come Back Player 2:16

Circle in the Sand Belinda Carlisle 4:27

Hold On Wilson Phillips 3:41

I’ll Be Over You Toto 3:50

Just the Way It Is, Baby The Rembrandts 4:09

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

We Don’t Talk Anymore Cliff Richard 4:13

Baker Street Gerry Rafferty 2:13

When Your in Love with a Beautiful Woman Dr. Hook 2:56

Fool (If You Think It’s Over) Chris Rea 3:33

You’re No Good Linda Ronstadt 3:46

Reminiscing Little River Band 3:17

The Air That I Breathe The Hollies 4:12

Sad Eyes Robert John 1:55

I Go Crazy Paul Davis 5:23

Hearts Marty Balin 4:19

These Dreams Heart 4:17

Jessie Joshua Kadison 4:22

Release Me Wilson Phillips 3:54

The Doctor The Doobie Brothers 3:45

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Maggie May Rod Stewart 5:15

Higher and Higher Rita Coolidge 4:01

Whatcha Gonna Do? Pablo Cruise 4:15

I’m in You Peter Frampton 4:11

Drift Away Dobie Gray 3:56

More Love Kim Carnes 3:37

Babe Styx 4:01

Into The Night Benny Mardones 4:31

It’s a Heartache Bonnie Tyler 3:45

While You See a Chance Steve Winwood 4:06

Show Me the Way Peter Frampton 2:30

Fooled Around and Fell in Love Elvin Bishop 4:37

Lonesome Loser Little River Band 3:54

I’m Not in Love 10 CC 6:07

I Just Wanna Stop Gino Vannelli 3:37

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Daniel Elton John 3:53

I Need You America 3:07

I Can Dream About You Dan Hartman 4:11

Escape Rupert Holmes 3:54

I’d Really Love to See You Tonight England Dan & John Ford Coley 2:38

On and On Stephen Bishop 3:01

Tempted Squeeze 4:01

The Things We Do For Love 10 CC 3:31

The Best of Times Styx 4:18

Cry Godley and Creme 3:55

Your Wildest Dreams The Moody Blues 4:51

Higher Love Steve Winwood 5:46

More Than Words Extreme 5:36

I’d Do Anything for Love Meat Loaf 5:17

Do You Feel Like We Do Peter Frampton 7:20

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

So In to You Atlanta Rhythm Section 4:23

Fly, Robin, Fly Silver Connection 3:50

Sentimental Lady Bob Welch 3:46

Show And Tell Al Wilson 3:29

Wild Flower The New Birth 3:59

Delta Dawn Helen Reddy 3:09

American Pie Don McLean 8:35

Rock Me Gently Andy Kim 3:29

Go All The Way The Raspberries 3:22

Mr. Big Stuff Jean Knight 2:49

Oh Babe, What Would You Say Hurricane Smith 3:26

Hooked On A Feeling Blue Swede 2:53

Having My Baby Paul Anka 2:33

Last Song Edward Bear 3:13

The Streak Ray Stevens 3:18

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Rhinestone Cowboy Glen Campbell 3:16

Too Late To Turn Back Now Cornelius Brothers And Sister Rose 3:20

Boogie Fever The Sylvers 3:30

Reminiscing Little River Band 3:17

I Just Want To Celebrate Rare Earth 2:54

One Bad Apple The Osmonds 2:43

Have You Never Been Mellow Olivia Newton-John 3:33

Magic Pilot 3:05

Boogie Oogie Oogie A Taste of Honey 3:38

Right Back Where We Started From Maxine Nightingale 3:15

Sad Eyes Robert John 1:55

Gonna Fly Now Bill Conti 2:48

My Sharona The Knack 4:02

You Sexy Thing Hot Chocolate 4:05

Puppy Love Donny Osmond 3:06

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Love Train The O'Jays 2:58

Knock Three Times Dawn 2:55

Brandy Looking Glass 3:04

Little Willy Sweet 3:12

Baby Don’t Get Hooked on Me Mac Davis 3:06

Take Me Home, Country Roads John Denver 3:13

It Never Rains in Southern California Albert Hammond 3:38

Brand New Key Melanie 2:26

Come and Get Your Love Redbone 3:32

More. More, More (Part 1) Andrea True Connection 3:02

I Can See Clearly Now Johnny Nash 2:43

Everybody Plays the Fool The Main Ingredient 3:22

Indian Reservation Paul Revere & The Raiders 2:52

The Cover of “Rolling Stone” Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show 2:55

When Will I See You Again The Three Degrees 3:00

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Rich Girl Daryl Hall and John Oates 2:23

Lady Marmalade LaBelle 3:21

Best of My Love The Emotions 3:41

Fire The Pointer Sisters 3:28

Miracles Jefferson Starship 3:33

You Make Me Feel Like Dancing Leo Sayer 2:51

Here You Come Again Dolly Parton 2:58

Disco Lady Johnnie Taylor 4:25

Saturday Night Bay City Rollers 2:56

Rock On David Essex 3:26

Wildfire Michael Martin Murphey 4:50

You Take My Breath Away Rex Smith 3:15

I Go Crazy Paul Davis 5:23

Stumblin’ In Suzi Quatro and Chris Norman 3:31

Torn Between Two Lovers Mary MacGregor 3:44

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Bad, Bad Leroy Brown Jim Croce 3:00

Don’t Pull Your Love Hamilton, Joe Frank & Reynolds 2:41

Love Will Keep Us Together Captain and Tennille with Neil Sedaka 3:24

Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song B.J. Thomas 3:22

She’s A Lady Tom Jones 2:51

How Do You Do? Mouth & MacNeal 4:07

Black and White Three Dog Night 3:51

Escape Rupert Holmes 3:54

Drift Away Dobie Gray 3:56

It’s a Love Beat The DeFranco Family 3:09

I’m in You Peter Frampton 4:11

The Candy Man Sammy Davis, Jr. 3:10

Spiders & Snakes Jim Stafford 3:05

Billy, Don’t Be A Hero Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods 3:40

The Morning After Maureen McGovern 2:20

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves Cher 2:36

Maggie May Rod Stewart 5:15

Baby Come Back Player 2:16

I Just Wanna Stop Gino Vannelli 3:37

Jackie Blue Ozark Mountain Daredevils 3:37

Higher And Higher Rita Coolidge 4:01

I’m Not in Love 10 CC 6:07

Y.M.C.A. Village People 3:45

Will It Go Round in Circles Billy Preston 3:46

I Just Want to Be Your Everything Andy Gibb 3:44

Do You Wanna Make Love Peter McCann 4:01

Signs Five Man Electrical Band 4:02

Disco Duck Rick Dees 3:14

Montego Bay Bobby Bloom 2:55

If I Can’t Have You Yvonne Elliman 3:00

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Play That Funky Music Wild Cherry 3:16

One Toke Over the Line Brewer & Shipley 3:21

Afternoon Delight Starland Vocal Band 3:14

Life is a Rock Reunion 3:31

I Can Help Billy Swan 2:57

My Maria B.W. Stevenson 2:31

Magnet and Steel Walter Egan 3:25

Beach Baby First Class 2:42

The Rapper The Jaggerz 2:45

Brother Louie Stories 3:57

Precious and Few Climax 2:46

O-o-h Child The 5 Stairsteps 3:15

Playground in My Mind Clint Holmes 2:57

Put Your Hand In The Hand Ocean 2:53

Please Come to Boston David Loggins 4:09

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Turn The Beat Around Vicki Sue Robinson 3:24

Ring My Bell Anita Ward 3:31

Sometimes When We Touch Dan Hill 2:22

Rose Garden Lynn Anderson 2:49

In The Summertime Mungo Jerry 3:37

Seasons in the Sun Terry Jacks 3:30

The Night Chicago Died Paper Lace 3:32

Rock The Boat Hues Corporation 3:09

Don’t Give Up on Us David Soul 3:39

Kung Fu Fighting Carl Douglas 3:17

Love Grows Edison Lighthouse 2:51

Sweet Mary Wadsworth Mansion 2:42

The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia Vicki Lawrence 3:36

TSOP MFSB featuring the Three Degrees 3:35

Feelings Morris Albert 3:45

#ignore me #manic mania activities #gonna make a playlist later

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little-writings · 5 years

Text

Jumin Week: Day 1 {Birthday}

Upon finding out that Jumin has never had a ‘proper’ birthday party, you’re determined to give him a celebration he’ll never forget.

Word Count: 3,333 (Wow! Didn’t mean for that!)

Howdy howdy! It’s been a hot minute but I’m glad to finally have something to give ya’ll again! A lot of life has been happening lately but there has still been writing in the works! Including this, haha! Anyhow, I hope you enjoy and have a marvelous day! <33

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Jumin could count on his fingers the number of birthdays he celebrated: his father’s, V’s, Elizabeth 3rd, the RFA, and of course, yours. Your birth-’day’ in fact, was more along the lines of a birth-’week’.

He had attempted to extend it to a month but for some unfathomable reason he couldn’t understand, you put your foot down. There was just too much about you to celebrate to fit into such a short time-span.

In days that now feel like centuries ago, Jumin once celebrated Rika’s birthday. He could still remember the grand tiered vanilla cake with her favorite color, yellow, painted along its edges in frosting. The way her face would glow and beam among the light of the candles-

Jumin didn’t want to think about that anymore.

In truth, despite all the birthdays he’d celebrated for others, he hardly had the faintest idea of what to do for himself.

Sure, as a child his father would go to extravagant extremes with parties and gifts but as Jumin grew older, the parties became dinners and the dinners became calls as life grew more elaborate and that much more hectic with the passing of every year. By now, Jumin associated his birthday with murky, restless nights with a bottle of wine that’d be empty before the sun rose.

But you weren’t in his life back then.

He’d first noticed the change with the words written on the calendar in your grand, curly lettering, taking up half of the sheet despite it only meant for a single day. The little heart you’d drawn beside the lettering bringing a gentle smirk to his face.

“Jumin’s Birthday!”

He absentmindedly fiddled with the ring on his finger, feeling the engravings rise and fall beneath his fingertips.

“Are you excited?”

Your voice snapped him from his thoughts, Jumin twisting around to see you standing on the tips of your toes, peering up at him with eyes as wide as saucers – anticipation brimming in every inch of you.

“For what?”

“For your birthday, silly!”

“Not particularly. But I think you might be.”

Your face fell in confusion. “Aren’t... aren’t you wanting to do anything?”

“Whatever you’d like to do love,” He bent down and pressed a kiss between your brows, undoing what would’ve been the forming knot.

“Jumin...” You wrinkled your nose. “It’s not about what I want. It’s your birthday!”

“Mmhm. And I already have everything I could ever want,” Jumin wrapped a tender palm around your cheek. You melted into the touch in spite of your frustration – you just couldn’t stay mad at him. “The best gift you could give me is your happiness.”

“Jumin...!” You took his hand in your own, clutching him like he was the only string still keeping you upright. “That’s so, so sweet – you're so, so sweet. But your birthday is for you! There has to be something you want!”

He bit the inside of his cheek and thought.

What was there that he couldn’t simply go out and get himself? Any material object one the earth was just that – a material object – perfectly obtainable if one had the means – and if anyone, Jumin most certainly did have those means.

“Didn’t you have parties as a kid?”

“I did.” Jumin nodded. “Granted, the only people were my father’s employees, my caretakers, and V.”

As the words slipped from his mouth, a faint realization of how much loneliness hounded his life before you stepped into it became that much more apparent. He squeezed your hand.

“Then that’s it!”

“I’m sorry?”

“We can have a birthday party for you!” You grinned so wide it was infectious. You always left him smiling like a lovesick fool -- something no one else could ever do. “I mean, you’re talking to the party planning professional!”

“Aren’t most of them supposed to be surprises?”

“Well -- just pretend you haven’t heard anything!” You snickered, biting the inside of your cheek. “Do you think you could do that for me?”

Jumin paused, thinking before an amused glint simmered to life in his eyes, peering down at you. “Pretend for what, love?”

“You’re just perfect,” Your delight poured out of your voice as you pressed a quick, adoring kiss to his lips that Jumin nearly instinctively leaned into. Had he not caught himself he could’ve stumbled over his feet in an effort to not part with you.

“I better start getting everything ready,” Your hands unraveled from Jumin’s and immediately began searching for a pen and paper, even resolving to scribble notes on your arm. His heart melted at the very sight of it. “Oh, I’m so excited!”

A bounce appeared in your step, only twisting back around to him as you disappeared with a pointing finger, bits of laughter seeping into your words.

Jumin swore he wasn’t a particularly cheery soul, but you kept proving him wrong more and more in that regard. Every single piece of the world was that much more precious and beautiful with you in it, and his smile grew wider.

“But you, you don’t know a thing! Don’t say a word!”

He mimicked the motion of a key turning in a lock, nodding. “My lips are sealed.”

You tried to disappear down the hall but you couldn’t quite bear to leave him just yet, rushing back to your husband to kiss him just once more.

“I love you,” You hummed, curling tangles of his hair between your fingers.

Jumin would never get tired of hearing those words from you. He wove his arms around you and pulled you close, rubbing delicate circles against your back. “How can I just let you go now?” He hummed beneath his breath. “Is there any way I could deter you from your incredibly secret plan that I know nothing about?”

“Jumin...”

Whatever resolve you’d grappled onto vanished the moment Jumin asked once more with a quiet ‘please’. How someone could withstand such a thing, you had no clue.

“Fine, fine,” You huffed, amusedly. “But just for a little bit!”

You didn’t begin your planning until the next day, but your heart was in the right place. That was what counted.

That next day, however, you hit the ground running. The days leading up to Jumin’s birthday were spent drowned in planning among texts, calls, and plenty of emails you’d become all too accustomed to.

The only thing left for Jumin’s birthday was the cake.

You’d assigned Jumin’s father, Mr. Han with the task of distracting Jumin that morning with father-son birthday activities. Mr. Han practically giddy to be a part of today’s festivities.

“You two have fun, alright?” You hung at the front door of the penthouse as Jumin greeted his father outside, the man already holding a gift for his son.

“You’ll be alright on your own?” Jumin asked. “Are you sure you can’t join us?”

“It’s only for a few hours. I’ll be alright.” You grinned. “Think you can handle each other?”

“Oh please, I only raised him! I think I can take care of him for an afternoon!” Mr. Han gave a warm expression, setting a fond hand on his son’s shoulder in spite of how he towered over Mr. Han.

“I believe we’ll be alright.”

“I’ll hold you to it!”

Did you give Mr. Han a playfully far-too-obvious wink? Yes, yes you did. He returned with a bright, eager smile and Jumin had to clear his throat to stifle his laughter.

This might’ve been the most unsurprising birthday surprise party you’d ever known.

But you’d do all within your power to make it the best.

Within the hour of Mr. Han and Jumin leaving, the RFA arrived in a mess of delighted chatter. Even V took time out of his schedule for the occasion, informing you in a nightly chat in which you had to quell a squeal of delight and in a rarity, you heard V laugh.

“Is the fur-ball put away?” Zen asked, nervously scanning the kitchen for any sight of Elizabeth 3rd. “I don’t want to sneeze all over your cake MC!”

“I left her in the bedroom. You’re safe.”

“For now!” 707 slammed his hands down on the actor, causing the man to erupt into an embarrassingly shrill shriek. Jahee being the one to calmly remove 707′s grip with a glare sharper than daggers.

“Please do not frighten Zen like that,” She stated, chillingly cold. “If his voice is strained, he may be unable to sing with his beautiful voice.”

“Jahee, do you ever hear yourself speak?” 707 giggled with a wrinkled nose. “Like, really?”

“Be nice!” You elbowed the hacker sharply. “We’re all here for a common cause!”

Zen raised his hand. “Because you asked us to...?”

Calming the storm, V stepped forward, greeting you with a kindly smile and warm glimmer in his eyes that seeped through his sunglasses. “For Jumin.”

“Exactly.” You nodded. “And we’re going to bake him the best birthday cake he’s ever had! Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Yoosung jumped forward, a little notepad clasped in his grip. “I even went and found some recipes for him! I found a really good one! I know he’d like it MC!”

“What is it?”

“Mm!” The young man flipped through the pages, strands of blonde hair slipping from his hairclip -- his bangs finding a way no matter his efforts to flitter right back in front of his face. “It’s vanilla with buttercream frosting! You said that’s his favorite, right?”

“It sure is -- hasn’t changed since he was a child.” V mused. “We tried to make one once and nearly burnt down the kitchen.”

“Let’s not have that as our goal?” You folded your lips nervously. “We’ll just follow Yoosung’s recipe and everything will work out! He’s a great cook!”

“I don’t want to say Yoo-Yoo isn’t an amazing chef but-”

“We’re not listening to someone who lives off a diet of soda and chips,” Zen glanced back to 707 with raised brows. “Have you ever even seen a stove -- touched one?”

“No, this is my first time in a kitchen in fact~!” 707 gasped dramatically. “It’s magnificent!”

You and Yoosung exchanged a series of glances before letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Well, at least they’re willing to try!” You exclaimed. “I’m sure it’ll be okay as long as we work together.”

You were so optimistic then.

You felt like an absolute idiot now.

Luciel, given the simple task of greasing the pan, managed to cover half the kitchen in canola oil alongside a horrified Zen. Jahee fought with 707 and her own desire to wring his neck. Zen, on the other hand, was not above such impulses, and a fistful of flour was promptly thrown.

“I’ll get them under control, don’t worry!” Yoosung had said that half an hour ago, now he was smothered between the bickering trio, desperately trying to keep the eggs on the counter and not in anyone’s fist.

“Should I just order a cake at this point?” You asked V, taking in a sharp breath. “Is that what I have to do?”

“Two people are better than none,” V smiled softly. “We can still do this. It’s just a few steps. We can wrangle them together later.”

You stared up at him and nodded, taking in a deep breath. “You’re right. You’re right! We can do this!”

“Yes, we can. If we can handle Jumin, we can surely handle his cake.”

“He’s not difficult to handle.”

“Then if we can handle them.”

You glanced at the arguing group of the remaining RFA members, Jahee catching your gaze and stopping -- shuffling her feet in quiet embarrassment. The other three followed, Luciel leaning over the counter with flour plastered over his cheeks.

“S-Sorry,” He chuckled. “I ah -- I guess we got carried away! But we’re ready! We really want to make your ‘cat dad’ a good cake!”

Jahee pushed her glasses back up her nose, now spotted with white specks. “We... we won’t let anything distract us this time around.”

V simpered. “Are you positive about that?”

With a ‘yes’ spoken in unison, that familiar joy bubbled inside of you. The ends of your lips stretched from ear to ear and the tension in your shoulders slipped away easily.

“Then let’s get started!”

You parceled out responsibilities to each of them, and though it wasn’t absolutely perfect, it was wonderfully unique. You’d never seen anyone as passionate as frosting as you did Yoosung -- he’d shriek in outrage when 707 would scoop a dollop with his finger. Jahee and Zen monitored the cake in the oven and fretted like helicopter parents over the slightest details, oddly in sync as if they balanced out each other out in all their quirks.

707 proudly proclaimed the position of ‘cheerleader’, though you did insist he help decorate with Yoosung -- the two not sharing quite the same connection as Zen and Jahee -- more so a nagging pair in clusters of laughter despite their arguing.

However, you and V, you simply had a lovely time.

You whisked the ingredients together chattering quietly and occasionally humming little bits of songs until you couldn’t remember the music and simply scrambled to come up with your own. He told you stories of the past, and you told him of the present, melancholy washing over him.

“I know you’re busy...” You murmured. “But you’re practically family. I know it’d mean the world to him if you’d visit more often.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. But... a part of me worries that this may be the best I can hope for.”

You didn’t have to give more than a frown to tell you needed a tad more information.

“I... I’m not quite the same as I used to be. I worry that I’ve changed so much I’m not the same person he knows. It’s just... so much has happened. I worry that if I try to fix anything I’ll just break what isn’t broken. I’m... I’m scared of that with everyone...”

“V...” You stopped him and set a gentle hand on his arm, the thin cardigan he always wore unable to shroud the faint bit of shaking. “That would never happen. The RFA is a family, we aren’t going to abandon each other -- we’re here for you no matter what. You just have to give us the chance to be there for you.”

You squeezed him sweetly and offered an encouraging, fond smile. “This is a good way to start.”

He paused. “You think so?”

“I don’t want to say I know so... but... I know so.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

You clicked your tongue playfully, flicking up the spoon from the bowl that sent more than few bits of mix scattering about -- much more than you’d like to admit. “Not with a professional like me, you can’t!”

“I don’t think I want to.”

From that point, V lightened. He allowed himself to enjoy all the mishaps and mess that came with the cake baking. The difficulty of the frosting with all its sloppy sides and how the frosting fell against the sides. The whole group practically held their breath each time a flower of frosting was painted.

But somehow, someway you all made it.

You all finished it with just enough time to decorate.

You raced around the house at lightning speed with confetti and ribbons, it hurt to think of cleaning it later. Balloons were sprawled about and Zen and 707 nearly lost their minds attempting to hang up the poster with ‘Happy Birthday Jumin’ printed in only the largest lettering possible.

You barely had time to catch your breath before the door creaked open.

Just as soon as you sat down, you all scrambled to your feet and only utterly failed at the task of ‘acting normal’.

Jumin and his father stepped inside, gawking a the explosion of color that’d gone off, glancing down from the poster to see you and the RFA, smiling like fools.

“Happy birthday Jumin!”

He followed suit, the usually so stoic man beaming from ear to ear. You raced to meet him and fell into his embrace, peppering his face in kisses. His bright, faint laughter perhaps the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

“I hope you like it!”

He squeezed you tight as one would with their greatest treasure -- it’d be a tragedy to ever let go.

“I love it. I truly, truly do.”

“This isn’t even it!”

“What all have you been doing while I’m gone?”

“Oh, you’ll see!” You stepped back, Jumin reluctant to let go. “We all worked really hard on it.”

707 groaned. “It was back-breaking labor!”

Zen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe for the guy who sits in a chair all day!”

“Exactly! Thank you for being so understanding!”

V stepped forward beyond the small group, giving a gracious dip of his head. “Happy birthday Jumin.”

“I’m glad you were able to make it.” Jumin grinned. “I know how busy you can be -- especially as of late.”

“Yes... but I’m still here -- for you -- for everyone. I um -- I’m sorry I haven’t been able to show that lately.” V laughed weakly. “There’s not much of an excuse but-”

What would’ve become a bit of nervous ramblings was cut off as Jumin hurried to hug his dear old friend. V, like a strike of lightning, nearly jumped at the interaction.

How long had it been since someone showed him genuine care?

Eventually, though, V settled, returning the hug and glancing at you, fighting back laughter at the sight of a smug you mouthing ‘I told you so’.

“Now, I believe there’s something else for you to see.” V stepped back, gesturing to you. “MC?”

“Oh! Of course! Did you eat?”

“No.” Jumin smirked at your sigh in relief.

“Oh thank goodness!” You clapped your hands. “Then let me show you into the kitchen!”

Everyone flooded into the kitchen with anticipation in every step, even 707 proceedings to drum against the counters.

“Ta-da~! We baked a cake! It’s your favorite too -- vanilla with buttercream!” Your eyes widened like saucers, exhilarated. “Now, you have to know what comes next.”

Jumin grinned and raised a perplexed brow. “No, what is it?”

You lit the candles atop the cake and as though puzzle pieces snapping together, everyone understood what was coming.

“Well... we sing you a song!”

On the count of three, everyone began to sing that cheery, joyous ‘Happy Birthday’ song with an amount of cheesiness only you could come up with. As you sang, your hands intertwined with Jumin’s, your husband running his thumb over your knuckles.

“Now you’ve got to know what to do now, Mr. Moneybags.” Zen snorted. “Blow out the candles!”

And Jumin did just that.

Tangles of smoke floated up as he let out a puff of air, all of you bursting into cheers at least two of you reaching for the knife to begin cutting a slice.

You glanced at Jumin, snapping him away from his thoughts. “What did you wish for?”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to say what you wished for or it won’t come true.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in old wive’s tales.” You remarked, his other arm reaching for your waist, drawing you close.

“Well, I suppose this is too important to risk.”

“Could I get a hint...?”

“Perhaps,” He tipped his forehead against your own, glancing down at the wedding ring on your own finger like a blessing come to life.

“It involved you, and that makes it more precious than anything else.”

You didn’t need to ask anymore, your heart already swelled. “You know, it’s supposed to be your birthday, but you’re still ridiculously sweet. You can be a little spoiled!”

“I told you before, I have all I need,” Jumin smiled with such adoration it put the sun to shame in its warmth. “Because I have you, I have everything. All I could ever want is for you to stay.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jumin chuckled, pressing a kiss into your hair, speaking softly for only you to hear.

“Then I suppose my wish came true.”

155 notes · View notes

prune-life · 4 years

Text

Lily and Daffodil

Ship: Shinsou X Kaminari

Warnings: uhh prolly just cursing and a bit of fluffiness (but not alot)

A/N: It's 2:33 and I just finished this so I'm sorry for any grammatical errors :'). I know it's not that (you'll see what I mean) time yet, but I hope you enjoy nevertheless

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Dying flowers were many of the painful things that Shinsou looked at, and recently they became more and more frequent. Honestly, even after two years of learning about smaller types of herbalism and plants, he didn’t know what to do.

His window sills were decorated with sigils of pots filled with the soil that brought him a peace of mind, the earthly smell waking him up everyday with early scents that sent his mind into a frenzy, releasing endorphins like never before and, to be honest, he could say at this point the waft alone was a drug to him all-in-one, intruding it’s way into his nostrils without a care in the world while his cat brashly scratched at the pots and – more than once – tried and successfully knocked them over, which then ended in two ways.

One was a mess on the floor, usually looking like someone had stepped in with mud whipped boots after being out in the rain and aimlessly standing in a puddle while waiting for a miracle to happen, getting cold feet and trying to find their way out of a tongue twister like an utter fool, while the other reason was pretty much simple; falling over the balcony brim and staining the hanging, usually white clothing of his neighbour, Katsuki Bakugou, who mostly directed sentences not appropriate for the children living below him, and his own roommate which was a green haired, freckle nosed attentive named Izuku Midoriya, the one that usually took care of the person below who, in return to the good old one-two his cat gave to the bombarded bastard’s clothing, reverberated shouting and snarly comments on and on about how he was going to murder his precious pet and choke it to death, or shove the dirt of his plastic pot down his throat and grow plants in there himself.

If Shinsou didn’t know better than to immediately judge people, he’d assume more than once that Bakugou's hobby was mass murder and the achievement of threatening people in ways that shook them to their very core was to leave them sobbing in a dark corner and think about the day they crossed him. Not Shinsou. He, simply and easily, didn’t care. The only time he did was when his cat was almost stepped and rolled over by the ash blond – now that was the very end of his patience, and he decided to move them inside.

However, when it came to his plants meeting their demises without him being able to click on a tool of the search bar in the application called Internet, and his mind went blank the moment he tried to find the words, he knew, he was pretty much fucked, and beyond that, he couldn’t get out of his room when he found out that the owner at the flower shop he worked at, Aizawa Shota had to take vacation because his daughter, Eri, got chicken pox for the first time, sure, he knew how it felt, since he shared his own phase of annoying little red dots, so he understood, but what really, really, shook him up was the fact that he had to run the shop by himself now. Him, a seventeen year old student on his way to starting summer break, taking care of a flower shop, all alone?

Sure, the honour was there, but, why?

Why?

“Why..?” he stared at the flowers that laid limp in his hands, the pot at it’s peak of breaking from the roots, getting it’s fair pay of getting bumped and falling over because costumers weren’t 'watching their step'.

He sighed and curled his index finger under the falling flower, setting it aside as the doorbell above the glass door rang a sweet, high pitched melody.

The glass of his greenhouse standing tall and proud, sun smiling down at all the other healthy flowers made him blink twice, eyes adjusting to the light quickly to be present for the costumer, while in the meantime, he ran his hands on the pastel, coffee brown apron on his body and pulled down his white button up shirt.

“Welcome,” he sent a lazy smile up at the beaming man with light orange hair, a black stripe visible on the side of his head, messily running down a sideways undercut he styled his hair into.

His grin shined pearly white as he waved at the man and looked around silently, his gaze running over all the other flowers that were erect pridefully in their beauty from around the room, arduous honey-like smell injecting his nostrils and brain like gasoline. It was almost sickeningly sweet for a newcomer, and by the way his face scrunched at the horrendous sweetness, he was most definitely a stranger – or, maybe just the fact Shinsou never saw him before – a smile like that doesn’t just pass by and his clothing style was also rather amusing to the eye. Comfortable, per se, he rocked a simple white shirt and black pants with a yellow jacket that tightly closed itself around his narrow hips, and Shinsou eyed him head to toe, intrinsically curious about the casual, but new fellow.

“Hey man,” he spoke amiably, “I’m looking for uh... Lily and Daffodil?”

Shinsou squinted his eyes, before a snort came out from between his lips, and he had to put his black gloved hand up to them to keep himself from chuckling at the youngster.

“Lilies and daffodils, got it,” he cleared his throat, a lopsided smile taking over his lips, “do you want them individually or in a bouquet?” he asked, stepping away from the counter and hiding the shattering pot under it, rounding and guiding himself towards hourglass vases plopped upon a collection of side view shelves from where he usually stood, flowers with neatly cut stems stuck in yesterday’s water, all waiting to be bought and given, if for oneself or for other.

“Uh..” the lost man tucked his hand into the low pocket of his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, staring at it intensely, “Do you have hand tieds?” he questioned, reaching out his arm to hand the paper over to Shinsou, who took it and the gloriously sunny man stared back at the florist, who raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded intently, following along the vases until he came to a draft of three mahogany matched platforms and mixes of flowers, each organized along eachother, the spaces between them almost perfect.

He was aware of his boss's precision, but it sometimes drove him crazy when he got death glares for even slightly nudging a flower pot in it’s place if the others wanted something to buy. Otherwise, he’d say the job was a whole lot more relaxing than he thought it would, and his boss was more of a mentor upon nature rather than a prejudicial, pigheaded asshole.

“Uh-huh,” he hummed and picked the tied bouquet, carefully taking it towards the counter while eyeing the still pulchritudinous plants grown by non other than himself. He was a fan of herbs, but flowers were something that held a soft spot in his heart.

He set them down on the counter gently, content with the idea that they’d finally go out to see the rest of the world, even if temporarily and only as far as a few blocks from his greenhouse.

“Ten daffodils and five lilies, that’ll be four thousand ninety five yen,” he slipped the flowers into a paper wrap to secure they wouldn’t fall out, the crackling of paper as he genuinely tried to create none but an unwrinkled piece showing within the smooth surface of the sheet, as it ringed the flowers like a shell for protection and he waited as the man before him fumbled with the zip of his wallet and handed him a five thousand yen note.

He exchanged the currency that was left to go and handed him both the flower and the coins, watching the man’s eyes twinkle with joy as he cradled the flowery stems in his hands like a newborn baby.

Shinsou smiled, enjoying the view and the sudden affection the man showed towards the piece warmed his heart and made the tips of his pierced ears tint a glowy pink, internally simmering with pride.

“Thank you,” he grinned form ear to ear, turning around and stammering his way towards the door, sparing Shinsou one last glance, and an attempted wink.

The indigo haired insomniac stood and watched as he began to disappear behind transparent crystal walls, looking down at the paper that remained in his hand, a digit of numbers pessimistically written downhill on the paper with a small heart at the corner of it, and he couldn’t help letting out an amused hum, slipping the sheet into the back pocket of his black jeans.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his side pocket and he quickly yanked it out - a new notification popped up at the very top of his other messages and alarms - whilst a deep, growly chuckle from further amazement erupted from his chest.

|Calendar 12:00 |

|JUNE 1st Pride month|

|Midoriya Izuk... 10:38|

|Boss: what's a be.. 4:56|

|Neighbour: Why is your fucking cat meowing on my balc.. 6:16|

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Thank you for reading <3

#bnha #shinkami #it's late help me sleep #wake me up #wake me up inside #i cant be pan enough #cat #flowers #big gay

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firebrands · 4 years

Note

Send me a ship and a number and I'll tell you: 14,22 and 33 for stevetony obviously

14. Anything they both dread?

The end of their relationship. Accidents, death, acts of god, that’s all part of the hero gig. Tony’s always about optimizing things, getting better, back up plans for his back up plans. So he worries, he worries a lot when things are good between them. He worries about how he might fuck it up, how he probably will fuck it up, and how he could live without Steve being his, but still being there, just out of reach.

Steve worries that one day their arguments will get the best of them, that there might just be that one thing they can’t walk back from. He doesn’t know what it’ll be, and there are some evenings while Tony’s asleep in his arms that he thinks about what could go wrong, what would make Tony leave, what could make him leave. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t like not knowing. But there isn’t much either of them can do about it. And it’s not like Steve to bring it up.

(There’s one time when Tony does bring it up, casually as he’s cutting into his steak on their weekly date night. “d’you ever think about why we’d break up?” and Steve puts down his glass of wine. Tony looks up because Steve’s so quiet, and he’s about to make a joke, take it back, and but Steve clears his throat and says, “yes, sometimes,” and Tony nods, and Steve takes Tony’s hand and raises it to his lips, and that’s that.)

22. Does their work ever interfere with the relationship?

Always. Tony very nearly throws a tantrum when Steve has to miss their anniversary because of a SHIELD mission, and more than once Tony has double booked himself and ended up having to cancel on a movie with Steve because he had a work meeting he absolutely couldn’t miss. Everyone hates it when this happens, and Tony reminds JARVIS to make sure his schedule is tip top, and Steve brings home pizza and asks that debriefs be moved a day or two later. No one expected that it’d be schedules that’d trip them up so much, or be what makes them take much more care of each other, but at least now they’re all saved from the storm cloud over Tony’s head and Steve’s half-pouts and flippant “it’s nothing”s.

33. What kind of presents do they get each other? Do they only do it on special occasions?

Steve gives Tony little things - a nicely designed postcard, prints of Iron Man fan art, coffee beans from different parts of the world. And every time he hands something to Tony, Tony’s whole face lights up like it’s something precious, which just makes Steve get him more things, makes Steve pay attention whenever they’re out and Tony points out something pretty, or interesting, or cool. Next thing Tony knows Steve’s handing it to him, sometimes wrapped, sometimes just in a paper bag, but always with a soft smile on his lips. Tony makes sure to hang them in his office, or in the lab, or in their room.

Tony would give Steve the world if he wanted it (but he doesn’t, so Tony won’t). He knows Steve well enough to know that Steve won’t like big things, anyway. So he buys Steve suits, ties, cufflinks. He buys art, once he figures out what kind of art Steve likes; big paintings that he has framed and hung all over the tower, and when Steve notices a new Monet, he says, “is that new?” and Tony shrugs and says, “yeah, do you like it?” and Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times, and then Tony smiles a little and Steve spends a next few minutes appreciating the art, gripping Tony’s hand tight in his.

Tony does other things, too, big things by normal people standards - sets up a charity for veterans, organizes visits to old men who served in WW2. He buys a plot of land outside the city and pays for organizations to care for pitbulls who have been rescued from fighting rings, and then another for greyhounds, and then another for old racehorses. He drives Steve over when these places are open and set up, and they spend a day with the dogs and a day with the horses, and all of the volunteers and staff just boggle at these two men cooing over animals.

Send me a ship and a number and I’ll tell you…

#stevetony #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #things i write #thanks for asking adi!!!#asks #desitonystark

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writershapeholeonthedoor · 5 years

Note

zadison

1. Who kissed the other first?

Madison got really close to do it, but Zoe actually hadto close the last few inches between them.

2. What was their first fight about?

It happened that same day when Queenie asked who kissedthe other first.

3. Who sleeps in the couch more often?

Zoe. Madison refuses to leave her bed, dosen’t matter howbad the fight is, so Zoe just grabs her things and go to the couch or an amptyroom if she has the choice.

4. Who drinks coffee and who drinks tea?

They both drink coffee like is water.

5. Who goes grocery shopping more often?

Zoe, because she likes to do it. She leaves a piece ofpaper in the nightstand so Madison can write the things she wants during theweek. Madison hates supermarkets in general.

6. Who brings breakfast in bed?

Usually, none. But on the days they don’t have to work orthey’re celebrating something, it would be Madison. It’s like the only time sheever wakes up before 10pm.

7. Who sleeps first?

Zoe is gone as soon as she closes her eyes.

8. Who watches the other sleeping?

Zoe takes a few precious seconds to watch Madison beforeshe wakes up everyday. She likes to keep that angelic image in her head whenMadison starts acting like a bitch.

9. Who met the parents in law first?

Well, Madison technically met Cordelia first, if that count.But she was also the first to go meet Zoe’s real parentes. The girl took her toher childhood house in their second thanksgiving together (both her parentshated Madison the second they saw her).

10. Whodoes the laundry?

Zoe. Madison prefers to just buy new stuff.

11. Whowashes the dishes?

Madison, because Zoe uses the laudry as an excuse.

12. Whoclean up the house?

They have their atribuition in the Coven, but Madisonspent most of her time adding songs to the ‘Cleaning the House’ playlist shehas on Spotfy.

13. Whowashes the car?

If they had one, no one does. It just get dirtier anddirtier eveyday.

14. Whobrings take outs?

Madison, when she pass by Zoe’s favorite places, or Zoewhen she’s out of the house and gets hungry.

15. Whocalls the other to ask if they want something from the street?

Zoe, she’s the sweetest person. Madison just grab it ifshe thinks Zoe might want.

16. Who’smore likely to make plans?

Zoe is Cordelia’ child, ok? She have every second of herday planned in details, but Madison always finds a way to ruin it.

17. Whodreams about a big wedding?

They don’t think about marriage in general, but Madisonsometimes picture how big she could get before Zoe puts her foot down.

18. Whobreaks the cups?

Zoe in normal days, Madison when she’s drunk.

19. Whoholds the umbrella?

Zoe. Madison is always busy either looking at her phoneor at her nails.

20. Whotakes the other to the dance floor?

In nightclubs, Madison, when start to play some popsongs, but Zoe have to drag her when it’s playing anything else. It’s a goodthing they both like to dance.

21. Whodoes the big romantic gestures?

Madison. She’s not afraid to spent money to take Zoe tothe mountains in a helicopter or rent a plane to fly over the house with a big‘I love you, Zoe’ or anything bigger or crazier than that. Zoe is all smalllittle things.

22. Who’smore likely to serenade?

Zoe. She did it once when Madison annoyed her and theother girls still make fun of Madison because of that (she shut the window thesecond she saw what Zoe was doing).

23. Whoforgets the wet towel in bed?

Madison does it evey fucking time and Zoe always make abig deal out of it (until one day she was the one who forgot and Madison willnever let her forget that).

24. Whodon’t pick up things when they fell?

Madison. She’s just too lazy.

25. Whokeeps losing the keys?

Zoe. She literally can’t remember where they are. To tryto help her with that, Madison buys the most extravagant locksmith she canfind.

26. Whosings the rap part?

Madison, and she rocks it.

27. Whopretends to be sad just so the other will cheer they up?

Madison, the big baby.

28. Whowakes up ready for a maraton?

Zoe dosen’t wake up with full energy, but she is readyfor it after a cup of coffee.

29. Whobuys them tickets for shows?

Madison buys tickets for every show in town, dosen’tmatter if they even like the band or not.

30. Whochoose the movie?

Madison likes to pretend it’s her, but she always chosesomething she remember Zoe mentioning at some point.

31. Whosays ‘I love you’ more often?

Zoe. Madison rolls her eyes everytime (she’s more actionthan words).

32. Whokeeps waving at people after they got engaged?

Zoe, the small bean! She can’t believe it, for real, soshe keeps staring at her finger all day, until someone pass by and she wavesslow enough so the person can see the huge ring.

33. Whouses the most ridiculous nicknames for the other?

Madison, to be sarcastic or piss Zoe off (Zoo, baby babe,little Sunshine), but Zoe trully come up with some of her own because she thinkis cute.

34. Who’sresponsible for date nights?

They switch, one date each.

35. Whowakes up one day and decides to stay in bed?

Madison does it very often, but Zoe is all in for thatduring the weekend.

Send me a ship

#ahs #american horror story #zadison #ahs imagine #imagine ahs #zoe benson #madison montgomery #zoe x madison #madison x zoe #zoe benson x madison montgomery #madison montgomery x zoe benson #ahs headcanon #headcanon ahs #imagine #headcanon #emma roberts #taissa farmiga #romiga

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pologoldandsilverexchange-blog · 4 years

Photo

Welcome to P.O.L.O. Gold & Silver Exchange, your premier jewelry store serving the Fort Worth, TX area for over 33 years. We pay premiums for all types of gold and any other precious metal jewelry such as earrings, bracelets, necklaces, watches, coins, diamonds, sterling silver jewelry, silver coins, cocktail rings, wedding bands, class rings, and cluster rings and broken and unwanted jewelry. We are also expertizing in watches, brand name knives, stamps, and coins worldwide as well as paper money and bullion.

There's something for everyone and we can find the perfect piece for you. Customer satisfaction is our priority and we are committed to providing excellent service so that you have an exceptional experience at our store. We have jewelry in all shapes, sizes, and styles including gold accessories, large diamonds, color gems, silver jewelry, rings, pendants, earrings, and much more!

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#JewelryRepairService #WatchRepairService #AppraisalsJewelry #JewelryStore #GoldBuyingServices #Diamonds #CoinBuyer #CoinSeller #CashForJewelry #CashForWatches

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ricardian-werewolf · 2 years

Text

I posted 251 times in 2021

40 posts created (16%)

211 posts reblogged (84%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 5.3 posts.

I added 150 tags in 2021

#harriet rambles - 33 posts

#harriet lovecraft - 23 posts

#herbert west - 22 posts

#boardwalk empire - 14 posts

#fanged death - 12 posts

#reanimator - 11 posts

#american vampire - 9 posts

#my art - 9 posts

#richard harrow - 9 posts

#clara thompson - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 123 characters

#fuck power steering and my small frame - i’d be terrorizing the neighborhood on a phone book and a brick for the gas pedal.

My Top Posts in 2021

A list of current characters in my Boardwalk empire fanfic who’re supernaturals, or becoming ones:

For further context, vampirism in this alternate universe is seen as the “hot” new thing, until prohibition creates serious problems.

Enoch (Nucky) Thompson - turned by his (now dead) wife, and uses this newfound power to easily rise to his current position.

See the full post

13 notes • Posted 2021-07-07 20:32:59 GMT

chapter 5: after you’ve gone

Summary: it is the autumn of 1917, and Paris is a place largely untouched by the war. It is here we lay our scene, for Harriet to rekindle an old friendship, and for Herbert to become accustomed with this older time. tags: none. Other than the characters do drink blood.

1917, Paris.

The moon is high in the autumn sky as Lestat de Lioncourt pushes the lid of his coffin up.

He emerges from it, fangs sharp and his eyes bright. The moon outside the windows is full, giving him a burst of energy.

The lace cuffs of his shirt tickles his hands as he pats down his blonde curls.

His hunger plays with his nerves as he drifts through the apartment, twitching back one of the curtains to see the streets below.

The platform patriots of the earlier years are gone, replaced with women who stand on corners, armed with white feathers of cowardice.

He’s fought in wars before. But not this one.

The sharp pangs of hunger in his head jerk him out of his thoughts.

The night is still young. Young enough to spend precious time searching for a woman, in a back alley.

He departs the apartment shortly after midnight, and hunts like a shadow of death through the oldest parts of Paris.

***

Harriet walks through the city, her arm locked with Herbert. The two of them wear their black jackets that signify them as doctors. The white band around her arm, with the crude Red Cross on it, helps them from being cat called by young women, alive and undead alike for their failure to serve the country.

Meg and Dan have busied themselves with trying to obtain visas to stay in France, and are both not speaking to Harriet out of rage for what she’s done to them.

Several of the cafes are still open, so Herbert decides to let them both rest, and drags Harriet into one, oddly enough directly across the street from Lestat’s apartment.

They sip chilled sang avec épices which helps sate the initial thirst brought by time travel and stress.

“So. What’s our plan?” He asks her in Russian, in a low voice.

“I’ve enlisted both of us in the 42nd battalion of the Canadian expeditionary force. They’re looking for medical orderlies who can serve out long stints on the front,” she explains, handing him a Manila envelope containing their enlistment papers.

With a swift slice of his pinky, Herbert has deftly ripped the envelope open, and pulls out the paper, noting the smell of ink on his hands.

He reads through it, gives her a smile, and then tucks it back in, pushing it back to her.

She snatches it back, stuffing it into her interior coat pocket.

It’s good she does that, for there is someone at her elbow.

“Lady Howell, is that you?”

Harriet jumps, and looks up, into the face of Lestat.

“Ms. Lovecraft, actually. I found out I was adopted after the titanic sank. Paul and I are separated now, Lord de lion court,”

Lestat smirks, bringing a chair over to sit in.

“You know you can call me Lestat, chèrie,” he fiddles with the emerald ring on his thumb, and places his hand under his chin, looking at her with a piercing gaze.

“Lestat then. This is my boyfriend, Herbert West, of Miskatonic university,” she indicates Herbert, who gives Lestat a small smile.

“Ah! So you’ve managed to ensnare this beautiful testament of our kind, hm?” A waiter breezes by, and he orders a café au sang.

See the full post

14 notes • Posted 2021-02-11 23:36:25 GMT

A collection of drawings of Harriet Lovecraft

These were drawn follwing her return to Providence, and her subsequent débutatent balls.

See the full post

15 notes • Posted 2021-01-25 01:52:32 GMT

May the Firth be with us all, Colin Firth corner of tumblr.

20 notes • Posted 2021-05-04 14:25:03 GMT

So, I just started season 3 of BWE, and my god. RICHARD. Massive rambling below.

****

He’s the only thing standing between Gillian’s totally warped control of Tommy. I just want to hug Richard and bury my face in his hair. He deserves bowls of hot soup and time in a loving home. I woke up this morning with his name on my lips and scared my dad, who was like. Why did you say his name?!

I blushed and lied. Anyways, I love this man, and I blame my heart for making me go after Van Alden, when it should have been pining for Richie. And now, it is. And I don’t think it’ll ever stop. I’ve been reading @puddykat and @portiaadams fics about Richard, and I blame them partly for my pining, which isn’t a bad thing. But I just want this wounded soldier as my friend, and maybe even a family member. I feel like we could connect over a lot of stuff, and I’d love to get to know him on a more intimate level.

This pandemic has been hard, and I’ve gotten a lot of comfort characters, but I connect to Richard on a visible level, because we both share our scars of survival, reminders of clawing out of our graves. I can hid mine beneath a shirt, but I often play it off as never happening. I haven’t been ready to face it, until recently, where I stood in front of my mirror and traced it. And this is because seeing Richard as a person, despite his disability, made me strong enough to face it.

So, thank you, Richard Harrow, for making me strong enough to face my scars and realize that they are a part of me, just as yours are as much a part of you.

(I know there are people who like Gillian, please don’t come after me. This is my view of her as far as I’ve watched.)

26 notes • Posted 2021-07-15 01:21:53 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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heresjeonny · 7 years

Text

EXO 101: A Crash Course

Park Chanyeol

Soft baby by day, sexy mofo by night. Can do everything?? Sing, rap, dance, cook, act, write and produce music, play the guitar (classical, spanish, lead, and rhythm omg) and the piano and the drums, has the body of an elf king. He’s also AMAZING with children as shown [here - skip to 12:17 and WATCH you won’t regret it] and dogs too! All animals really. He’s Korean Snow White. With abs. And if Snow White was extra.

Also the kindest soul ever. He’s always smiling, even when he’s down. He literally said, and I quote; “No matter how difficult something is, I will always be positive and smile like an idiot.” His then-girlfriend nicknamed him “Happy Virus.” Constantly buys his members gifts, is very tall (well over six feet), and he’s the most extroverted and sociable person - actually friends with everyone. 10/10 amazing human.

Byun Baekhyun

Don’t let him fool you!!! He looks soft but he will fuck you up with his cheeky lil smile and pelvic sorcery and unearthly vocals and uGH. His wit is unparalleled like omg, so sassy and hilarious and sharp. Also a huge nerd when it comes to anime, manga, and video games. Once gave a picture of himself to another member as a gift, the lil shit.

He’s incredibly passionate about his career and his members, and I think it was Kyungsoo who said that it’s Baek who keeps them all together at times. In summary: Byun Baekhyun is what happens when a demon and an angel do the do.

D.O./Do Kyungsoo:

Do Kyungsoo? More like Do Me, Kyungsoo. I’m sorry I’m so thirsty Ksoo...I don’t even know where to begin with this one. First of all, he single-handedly saved the human race from extinction with his voice. He’s savage af, so much so that he’s affectionately nicknamed “Satansoo” and he will smack a bitch. He’s also so soft and squishy at the same time, you’ll get whiplash. And his acTING. Lord in heaven. And I believe he didn’t even have acting lessons?? The nerve of him. He, too, is sex on legs, and he might be quieter than the others, but y’all best listen when he talks cause boy bout to spill the tea.

He’s also very paternal in that he takes care of the other members a lot, like when Kai, his roommate, isn’t feeling well, he’ll care for him or go out to get food for him. And he can cook really well. I’m gonna stop now before I end up writing an entire dissertation ;’)

Lay/Zhang Yixing

ALSO NOT PURE ABORT ABORT THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

Oh my god. Anyway. Zhang Yixing is the perfect contradiction. On the one hand, he’s an actual baby lamb - laugh and all. On the other hand, he’s the human embodiment of the NC-17 rating. Like, hide yo kids. Yixing is also one of the Chinese members of EXO, so he often leaves to promote his solo music which is in Chinese, and he works so incredibly hard and deserves all the success. He also writes the lyrics, and composes and arranges the music!

And...his dancing. Proof that god exists. There is literally no part of his body that Yixing does not have absolute command over - and you can see it because he is so precise, confident, and sexy. :’)

Suho/Kim Junmyeon

I actually had to cover his face while writing this because holy--

Yup. Moving on.

Actually, back to his face (and the rest of him): Remember when Da Vinci was conceptualizing the Vitruvian Man (lol only 90′s kids will remember...1490′s kids, that is). You know that picture of the guy with another pair of arms and legs superimposed on him, inside a circle? The drawing theorizing the ideal proportions of the human body? Yup, true story: Junmyeon was Da Vinci’s muse. Suho’s face is so symmetrical, it inspired mathematicians to write the golden ratio. He is a genetic miracle, a statistical outlier, a national treasure--

Anyway *sweats*. ALSO. Let’s talk about his personality. Myeon is the mom of EXO, the leader, so he’s naturally very parental. He actually chose the stage name “Suho” because it means guardian. He always does his best to keep his kids the members together and doing what they need to be doing. Always pays for things ($Junmoney$), and is the person a lot of them confide in and go to for comfort or advice, especially Sehun.

He’s such a dad too - like his dad joke ratings are off the charts. 10/10 would build you a tree house and tuck you in at night.

Oh Sehun

Maknae. Icon. Legend. Used to have a lisp.

People sometimes think he’s cold or reserved because of his face, but as you can see in the gif, he’s literal sunshine. He once cried on stage because he was knocked on the head by a camera - but he wasn’t crying because the injury hurt, he was crying because he wasn’t allowed to perform because of it, and he felt like he was disappointing his fans. He also cried during a radio show when asked about his other members - he said every night before he falls asleep, he prays for them and he prays that they all stay together and are successful and happy. And now I’m crying.

Everyone is in love with him.

His dancing resurrected me from the dead, put my children through college, and ended world hunger because damn we are fed when that boy moves.

Sehun was once invited to Paris for a Louis Vuitton fashion show and became king of France. I’m not kidding. All he did was show up, and there was a huge crowd already there to greet him as if he were royalty, and he was voted best dressed at the show by Vogue. He went to the Louvre, and people were studying and appreciating him, the actual art.

Chen/Kim Jongdae

Ah, little dino bby. He’s iconic for many reasons:

1) His smile. It curls up at the corners like this :}

2) When he laughs, he literally goes HAHAHAHAHA like wow, amazing, I want this as my ringtone

3) He screams a lot. Nickelodeon once made a show about him called Jongdae: The Last Pterodactyl.

4) HIS VOCALS. Un-freaking-believable. He’s the male version of Mariah Carey.

5) Speaks really good Chinese! (He’s Korean)

6) An amazing human?? He donates to charity so often and he doesn’t do it for publicity either. He takes good care of the other members too.

Jongdae, let me put a ring on it.

Xiumin/Kim Minseok

HERE WE GO. My precious boy :’)

Minseok. The eldest. Also known as the best person to ever exist. Like Kyungsoo, he doesn’t talk much because he’s a shy lil bean, but once he warms up to you, the things that come out of his mouth are so deep and cute and funny and wowow I want ten of him

Is the least likely to cry

Was chubby (and so adorable!!) as a little kid, and now he has a six pack. Because of his weight as a kid though, he has spoken many times about the issue of body shaming and how people’s perceptions of a person shift based on how they look. He once said these words that made my cold, dead heart beat again: “I don’t have an ideal type. If our hearts match well, then she will look pretty to me.”

Has the strongest arms in EXO. They all arm wrestled and he won and it was the funniest thing ever.

Is not only an idol, he’s also getting his Ph.D. Dr. Kim. I can’t believe....

Wants to open his own coffee shop, and I don’t drink coffee, but I would chug any dish-water-coffee-grinds-filth that he would serve me because damn I love him.

Kai/Kim Jongin

R00D MOTHERF*CKER.

The Bias Wrecker. Or just your bias, plain and simple

Kim Jongin is one of nature’s greatest accomplishments. His gams are the eighth wonder of the world - and he puts them to use when he dances, like please kick me in the face with those omfg

His laugh. Astounding. Also don’t stand too close when he laughs because he will hit you. It’s just what he does lmao

He’s basically a hip young old man - so hot but so sleepy. He’ll sleep at any given opportunity.

Very fond of fried chicken. And dogs. But not in terms of eating, for the latter

Learned ballet for ten years and it shows, and I just wANT TO SEE HIM IN A LEOTARD DAMMIT

He has darker skin than the other members which people used to make fun of him for and still do comment on, but he says he loves it and he is proud of his body :’) we are too bby!!

Other random facts:

- EXO originally had 12 members but 3 left and we’re not going to talk about it okay? okay

- Chen and Xiumin are married best friends. Xiumin actually said in an interview that Chen is “like my wife”

- Sehun is now officially Lord Oh Sehun of Glencoe, Scotland because his fans are the most Extra and purchased the estate for his birthday :’)

- Chanyeol once folded one hundred paper cranes for his girlfriend as a gift, but in the middle of doing this, she called him and broke up with him

- Baekhyun can’t cook for shit but at least he’s pretty

- Kai dated F(X)’s Krystal

- Kyungsoo once said to the camera that he is “not pure”

- Yixing starred in a gay sci-fi movie where he and this other dude have a baby

- Suho is a health nut. Just like how girls always have pads and tampons on them, Suho has multivitamins

For @the-porcelain-doll-xo because I’m the friend that wants to drag you into hell with me, and I can’t wait for you to get into EXO ahhhhh ily <33

#this...took so long.....#also damn I just realized that I'm in love with every single one of them #exo #about exo #chanyeol #baekhyun #kyungsoo #yixing #lay #chen #jongdae #kai #jongin #minseok #xiumin #suho #junmyeon #sehun #d.o.

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incognitofoxxo · 7 years

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Transfer

“Dear Carrots, whenever I see you around the precinct or get to hang out with you (because you’re always so busy) I treasure the time we spend and the joy I feel. Whether we grab a bite to eat or we get assigned to a case. It’s all the better when I’m there with you. Even though we get assigned to rough cases, you’re optimistic yet suitable attitude always brightens up the situation and your face always brightens up my heart. I feel as though I can trust you with anything I tell you and you won’t think differently of me, however bad it may be. You’re always there for me and are so supportive. Judy, the truth is, I love you. I know it’s pathetic. A fox in love with a bunny. It’s abnormal. No one will agree with it. But your species doesn’t define who you are. You are so much more than the cute bunny you call yourself. You’re my everything. And I know it’s love from the amount of times I’ve just wanted to kiss you or invite you around mine for the night. But I know it’d make things worst if I did. I know you probably don’t like foxes in the same way I like bunnies, but you are seriously the best mammal in the entire world and at the age of 33 I think I may have found love for the first time in my life.” There was a large crinkle across the small paper which looked like water has set. That water could have only been one thing; salty tears.

“I know that when you get this, I’ll already be at my new precinct halfway across the country in the tactical team, but even though I may not return, I wanted to send you this letter to tell you how much you mean to me over the past few years and what I’ve been hiding for that time.”

Judy dropped the paper as she rubbed her eyes from the exasperatingly arrogant tod’s letter.

The tears that drooled down her cheeks was inducing her to reminisce the times she had bawled into Nick’s creamy, dreamy and furry chest that ushed his scent into her nose that seemingly calmed her like a pacifier does a baby.

She wanted to just feel him, just to at least touch him and they’d only been 2 days apart. She craved to caress his muzzle or playfully grab his ears. She just needed to reprieve this torture she was enduring and squeeze him tight in her arms for the reassurance that he was okay.

Nick was far from okay though. He was in hospital, internally bleeding to his death. All because someone wanted $20. He was about to lose the most precious thing to him. Judy. He was fight FOR HER. He was try to fight for her at least. He imagined her busting through the doors any second and reassuring him it would be okay. But no one came. No one. Then as his fatiguing body managed to pick up his phone out his blood drenched pocket, he laughed to himself as he sent a text he’d been debating on sending for a few years. “You’ve had a good run, Nick.”

He only had himself for company and after he sent the text he just about managed to phone her. He anxiously waited as it rung.

“Nick? Are you okay, I saw your text and I read your letter and I-”

“Judy, I don’t have long.”

“What are you on about? I lo-”

“I got shot and now I’m internally bleeding but I think this’ll be last ever chance we’ll have to speak.”

“…” Judy went quiet before dropping the phone in complete and utter shock. The only thing to prevent her dumbfounded fit persisting being her landlord banging on the ceiling with a broom. She scrambled back to the phone. “Nick, are you joking because if this is just a joke I’ll-”

“If you don’t believe me, video chat with me.” She wanted to see him for the final time if he was lying. He HAD to be lying. There wasn’t any doubt.

As she caught the stunning gaze of her fox companion with his eyes ringed in weariness, she broke down in tears. “I love you so much Nick.”

“I’ve wanted to hear that for the last 3 years. Ha- *spluttering*”

“I could look into your eyes for so long, they-”

“Look, Carrots, I love you. You mean more to me than anything. Don’t cry because I’m going away for a while. I’ll always be here for you. You know I will and besides, you get my apartment and basically everything I own. Just think of this as my way of saying thanks; for everything you did. Just keep being you, I couldn’t stand to make you miserable. I love you, carrots. I just wish you were here with me right now.” He started to cry. For the first time in his life with Judy, he’d cried and she wasn’t even there to comfort him. She watched him helplessly as he bawled his eyes out to her. “I’m scared, Judy.” She so badly wanted to hug him, to reassure him that it was all going to be fine. That he was as soft as she’d imagined him.

“Nick, be quiet, you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here with me, in my apartment and you’re going to sleep with me every night. I’m gonna hug you every night. I’m gonna watch a movie with you every night, we’ll still be solving cases together, you’ll still be there for me. I know you will.”

“Judy, I love you and if I could hold your paw now I would. But no one should have to watch their loved one die, how does tomorrow sound for muzzle time?”

“That sounds great Nick. I love you so much. I love you more than the world itself. You’re -heck, you’re…” and as she was halfway through her life confession, she heard the monotone sound that signalled something she could only mark as her best friend’s, her lover’s, her wannabe mate’s death. She couldn’t deal with it. She hung up. After she had done, her phone was flung off the bed and Nick was undoubtedly revived only to be slammed into surgery to correct it. The severity of his condition heightening to nothing they could have predicted.

All in the meanwhile Judy was mourning over the death of Nick after her chief had made the fatal decision to put Nick on a transfer. All because he didn’t want Nick in his precinct with disregard for anyone’s opinion.

She had enough. She was resigning. With the absence of Nick on the force, there was no point of being there. With the absence of Nick in general there was no point in being alive. He was her. He was what kept her going. He was what made her the most important beautiful amazing mammal he described her to be. He was the strife in her life.

Now she thought he was gone, she had to somehow make it on her own without her foxy little sidekick.

#zootropolis #zootopia #nick wilde #judy hopps #angst #this again?#you always put tags on your posts #why am i like this

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the-end-of-art · 7 years

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A mixed grill of happy anticipation and dread

Anne Lamott: 12 Truths I Learned from Life and Writing TED talk (https://www.ted.com/talks/anne_lamott_12_truths_i_learned_from_life_and_writing/transcript)

My seven-year-old grandson sleeps just down the hall from me, and he wakes up a lot of mornings and he says,"You know, this could be the best day ever." And other times, in the middle of the night, he calls out in a tremulous voice, "Nana, will you ever get sick and die?"