#anyways i bought these at two separate local thrift stores | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solange-lol · 3 years

Text

"why don't we be friends (why don't we make out)" - (1/1)

words: 2,373

read on ao3

—

There are very few people that Nico forgets about. At least, as far as the people that have stuck around with him for most of his life.

He’s known Percy and Annabeth since they were young, remembering watching the two of them chase each other around the schoolyard and purposefully try and get desks right next to each other before they were inevitably separated by alphabetical last name seating. He remembers trying to convince Piper to do his french project and Jason sitting in the halls with him outside of the music room when they wouldn’t want to go outside for recess in middle school. He can still hear the alarm when Leo accidentally knocked over a bunsen burner in their sophomore year chemistry class, and the feeling of paint on his skin when Hazel tripped and sent half of her palette onto him in their art class.

Nico can even recall moments with the people he was never particularly close to, like when Rachel told him she loved him backstage of their winter concert after only having known him for five minutes (in a very lesbian/gay solidarity way, of course), or when Grover spent an entire hour hiding out in their school library to get away from their math sub.

It’s strange now, looking across such a large circle of people piled into Jason and Thalia’s house. They’re all people from his grade (or class , he supposes, now that they’re officially graduated), Each one of them, Nico can remember at least one conversation he’s had with them, one story he’s passed into his closer friend group that is laughed over and then inevitably moved on from.

It was supposed to be a big party celebrating all their friendships throughout the years.

Ironically, so many people that had such little impact on him, in retrospect.

Which is why it comes as a surprise to him when he sees a flash of blonde curls and freckled skin among the sea of people. He’s hit with what feels like a wall of memories of the two of them, laying in the same bed trading quiet secrets, and walks to the store to get an inhumane amount of candy that they can go share at the pier. Images of blue eyes, warm hands in his, and the sound of stifled laughter at midnight feel all too familiar. Nico is stuck on them.

He hasn’t seen Will in years.

It wasn’t exactly his choice. It wasn’t either of theirs, really. They had gone to middle school together, and from the ages of 10 to 14, Will knew the most about him.

And then their middle school graduation came and went, and Will left for a boarding school. Nico remembers, vaguely, Will asking him to come with them.

“They offer more classes, and there are more opportunities for help,” they had said, or something along the lines of it. “And we could be roommates.”

Part of him wanted to. All of him almost went. But it was the same year he lost his sister, and while moving to another state for school sounded like a fantastic way to avoid all his trauma, he had to stay with his family. Not that his father would have stopped him, but Nico knew he couldn’t go. Not yet.

So he stayed, and Will left, and it all worked out fine. They texted every other day, facetimed once or twice a month when their schedules lined up. Will came home for Christmas that year, telling stories about the other kids on their floor and their girlfriend. Then, when he came home for that summer, about their boyfriend.

Nico would listen, then catch Will up about what was going on at his public school. He had gone out on a date with one boy which was nice but didn’t turn into anything, and Will told him he would find someone eventually. They took trips to the mall together instead of the pier, mostly just to get milkshakes and have a place to walk around.

One morning, Will convinced him to bike to the beach in the morning to see the sunrise. The sky ended up being too cloudy, but they still sat together on the empty lifeguard chair, swapped sweatshirts and bagels with cream cheese, and talking about summer jobs and college.

Then Will left for their sophomore year, and school caught up to both of them and whatever kept them going was lost. The most Nico talked to them was through the occasional Snapchat sent to each other or on a group facetime

The last time Nico had called Will alone, it was in a panic to ask advice on how to break up with the boy he was dating at the time because he realized that relationships weren’t really his thing, at least not yet. Will had sat quietly, giving him occasional advice, and mostly just comforted him.

And that was it.

Nico had gotten a new phone later that year, and all their call logs and long text threads were lost into the depths of his phone memory.

It was bittersweet, in all honesty, and pretty painless for the most part. Maybe it’s because Nico never really forgot about Will. There was never any clear ending; no hard feelings between the two of them. He still sees their posts on social media, sees their mom in the store on occasion. He remembers passing Will at their local fair when they came home again for the summer of their junior year with their boyfriend that they were still dating, and then later again the next when he noticed that all posts had been removed from their Instagram including the ones with said boyfriend and nothing but will - they/them in their bio.

He wondered, briefly, where Will had gone when he didn’t even see him in passing over the following summer. Was he still going to the boarding school? Had his family moved out of the state entirely?

It never felt like a friendship breakup. It was clear now, though.

Nico wonders at which point it became one. He didn’t mean to stare at Will as long as he did. Everything had just come washing over him at once, and he was frozen in place staring at the person Nico had once called his best friend.

He doesn’t even realize he was staring until Will looks back. Their blue eyes meet his brown ones, and reality sets back in. The loud music he had drowned out in his daydream came filtering back through his ears, and he stumbles as people shove past him towards the kitchen. Still, his gaze locks on Will.

Neither of them makes a move towards each other at first.

Then, a moment later, Will is right next to him.

“Hey,” they say it slowly, almost like they were testing the waters, like they knew how long it had been since they had spoken.

Nico doesn’t know what to say. His first instinct was to hug them.

He withstands it, though, instead grabbing onto their wrist and pulling them past the crowd of people and into one of the rooms off of the main hall, which was miraculously empty. He can still hear the pounding music, but it was a little bit quieter with the door closed. Quiet enough that he can think again.

“Uh, hi,” Will tries again, and god, their smile never changed.

“Sorry,” Nico says once he realized he had just seemingly dragged them into a secondary location with no explanation. “It was just… loud. Out there.”

“I get it,” Will says, sitting down on the couch pushed onto the far wall and looking back up at Nico. They were wearing a pinkish-orange button-up Hawaiian shirt that looked straight out of their dad’s closet (Nico would know, he’s seen it before) that was half-tucked into mid-rise light wash jeans that were cuffed just enough that you could see a glimpse of where their socks met their Converse. Yellow, possibly the same pair they had bought at the mall two years prior when Nico was there.

They got taller, he thinks vaguely. Nico had too, but Will still has at least half a foot on him.

“So, what’s up?”

“Not much, I guess,” he shrugs, twisting his ring. “I mean, I graduated. I assume you did too.”

Will nods. “I did. Lou Ellen invited me as her plus one. You know her, right? Friends with Rachel.”

Nico nods. Shoulder length, cloud-like hair that was a different color every other week. Wore lots of random thrifted t-shirts over big pants. Loud personality, even louder voice. Band kid. Friends with Cecil; her good grades probably being the only reason he hasn’t been kicked out of the school yet. Once debated the legitimacy of gender binaries with him in an English class.

“Sorry for, like, staring at you before,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

They nod again. “All good. I was staring at you before anyway.”

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Will shrugs. “You’re easy to look at.”

Then, a moment later, “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah. You’ve changed a bit.”

“Have I?” They ask. “I think just my look, maybe. I’m still just as obnoxious.”

Nico snorts. It’s comforting to know they could just slip back into it like this. Like no time had ever passed, and Nico is back in their bedroom creating each other in The Sims.

“Are you still dating Connor?” Nico asks, vaguely remembering the last conversation they had.

“Nah, we broke up last winter.”

“Any reason?”

Will squints a bit like they’re curious why Nico’s asking. It makes Nico blush, immediately regretting saying anything.

“Dunno. We just grew apart,” they say. Then, “Sounds kinda familiar, doesn’t it?” followed by a laugh.

“I didn’t mean to stop talking to you,” Nico says quickly because he didn’t. There are days where he sees Will’s Instagram story or a tweet and knows that even though he could still comment, it wouldn’t quite be the same.

“Life got busy,” Will says. “It happens”

“I didn’t want it to. Not to us.”

“So let's restart.”

Nico blinks. “Just… start over our entire friendship?”

“No, just pick up where we left off.”

“Just like nothing happened?” he asks, sitting down on the couch next to them.

��Just like nothing happened,” Will affirms.

They’re both quiet for a moment, then—

“Do you remember what you told me when you first came out as bisexual to me?”

It was in the basement of Will’s house. Nico had come out as gay a few weeks prior, and when he was talking about the boy he liked, they just casually mentioned it. Being with Will like this again reminded him of something they had said, and something he later found out.

“I think I just, like… told you, right?” Will smiles. “And I said you were a big part of helping me figure out.”

“Yeah. I always thought you meant because I had already come out,” Nico said. “It wasn’t until, like, last year that Piper mentioned you meant that because you liked me.”

Will laughed again. “I figured you didn’t. You were always talking about what bad of a couple we would make.”

“Yeah,” Nico said, and his heart picked up pace as his knee knocked against Will’s by accident. Neither of them moved. “I actually had a massive crush on you for a while. I think I just said that because I wanted to try and get over it, so I wanted you to indirectly reject me.”

“Did you ever get over it?”

Nico laughs. “Not really. But I moved on.”

He notices Will shift closer, notices how their hands are now on top of each other and their legs are fully pressed together.

“Same,” Will says, moving their head closer to Nico’s until their foreheads are pressed together and their breaths mingle. They look at him for any sign to stop, and Nico doesn’t move.

“Good thing we’re starting over then, right?” they continue, practically a breath of a whisper before their lips connect, and god Nico did not think this was where his night was going but no way in hell was he about to stop it. (He’s not sober enough to care, anyway, and seemingly neither is Will judging by the strong scent smell of weed coming off of his shirt.)

Their hands laced together, subconsciously, almost like muscle memory from all the days walking hand in hand down the dock. (Nico wonders if his younger self was ever trying to tell his mind something.) Nico’s other hand comes up to rest on warm skin, brushing Will’s cheek with his thumb like he’s trying to wipe the freckles off.

Will wraps one arm around Nico’s waist, pulling him closer until he eventually just shifts so he’s in their lap. Will certainly doesn’t complain, only tilting their head to deepen the kiss and breaking apart their hands so they can run one hand through Nico’s hair.

They have to break apart after a moment, and Nico can help it when he laughs.

“Guess we were a little dumb when we were younger, huh?”

Will’s breathing heavy, but Nico doesn’t miss the familiar playful glint in their eye. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re still an idiot,” they say, pressing a kiss to the underside of Nico’s jaw, and another one right next to his ear.

He wonders if Will has thought about doing this the same way Nico has.

“Says you,” Nico says. “You were far more oblivious than I was.”

“I’m not the one who said we would make a bad couple,” they remind Will.

“Yeah?” he says, then leans back in to kiss Will again. Their mouths slot together, and god, they’re an even better kisser than Nico ever thought they could be. Something in his mind tells him maybe it’s not relationships he didn’t like, maybe he just knew it wasn’t the right person.

Perhaps Will’s that person he was always looking for.

Nico leans back, just barely so he can mumble “Lucky for you, I’m willing to test that theory,” against Will’s lips just before they pull him in once more.

—

solangelo tag list (message/ask to be added/removed!)

@unicornsgomooo @anxiouswinter @soulangelou @number-of-fucks-i-give-0 @underworldystuff @theeloquentsnake @solangelover@thefandomsaretakingover @internallyexplodingrainbows @hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon @motivatedcryptidtamer @emilyfairchild @wherethewildthingsare-nt @hetapeep41 @blavk-dahlia

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #pjo #heros of olympus #my writing #liz writes.com #i like this update for the automatic italicies but holy shit just let me type my tags tumblr dear god

56 notes · View notes

socratesofthesocketset · 3 years

Photo

That...is a surprisingly hard question? Mostly the quilting part of it.

I mostly learned to sew on ancient cast iron treadle machines. They’re work horses and get the job done- if you only want to straight stitch, and want some exercise to go with your sewing. I later upgraded to an early electric cast iron- same thing, minus the exercise. If you’re good at finagling things, and okay with user manuals maybe not being available, you can sometimes pick up machines like this at thrift stores or craigslist type sites for not too much. I wouldn’t spend more than $100, and I’d make sure before buying that they are in working order- I have 2 treadles I never managed to get running so they’re just pretty furniture. If you’re really lucky, they’ll have a little metal box of attachments with them- I love the ruffler foot one of mine came with! Sometimes people will just have these lying around and offer to give them to you! Actually, not a bad idea to ask around with friends and family- I’ve gotten a shocking amount of craft supplies from other people’s abandoned hobbies and deceased relatives.

My first modern machine and the one I’ve been using to do everything I’ve posted here is a Husqvarna Viking Emerald 116. This is the absolute bottom of their decent machine line (the huskystar line is the true bottom of the barrel, I don’t even count them.) It does straight stitch, zig zag, and a few stretch/decorative stitches. The feed dogs can drop to help with quilting. It has been amazing, I’ve never had an actual problem with it’s functionality. My problem is the “throat” (sometimes called the “harp”) area, which is measured from the needle to the side of the machine is only 5.5″, which makes it difficult for an entire quilt to fit into it for the actual quilting part, though piecing isn’t terrible. Also, no walking foot or free motion quilting foot was ever made for the Emerald line, so it’s difficult to quilt without the fabric layers shifting. This machine retails around $450, and is still available. I bought mine as a floor model and spent maybe $250 on it? I consider that a steal for how long I’ve used it. I highly recommend Husqvarna Vikings for absolute ease of set up and use, but probably not the emerald line if you want to quilt.

Quilting machines seem to go one of two ways- you can get a modern straight stitch machine, which is just like the old ones in that is all it does, but they have much larger throats (often 10″+) and better for quilting. Or you can do what I did and get one that may have a slightly smaller throat (my new one will be 8″) but still have fancy stitches. Everyone has their own opinion on what’s best, and most people will tell you to go to your nearest machine shop and test drive everything/pick the brains of the employees. Honestly, this is a great idea if you have something local, and such shops often have a used section as most manufacturers have a trade in program- when I bought my Emerald for example, I could have traded her in within a year for 100% of the purchase price towards a new machine, or 50% in the second year. So you can get lucky and score a deal on a used machine or a floor model like I did!

As we are in a pandemic though, I hesitate to suggest you go hobnob with others and get your hands on things. I can recommend Pfaff, Bernina, Juki, Janome, and Brother as all being highly recommended to me- they come in all price ranges and features, and used ones are fairly easy to come by. I hesitate to recommend something outright as I haven’t handled a lot of machines, but the one I’m getting has a much cheaper little sibling- the Juki F300. Fewer built in stitches (100+ instead of almost 300? who needs that many anyway) and the quilting accessories- special feet and expansion table- need to be bought separately, but it’s about half the price. Some decent Brothers are down in the $350 range. Really, a cheaper price comes at sacrificing accessories (which can often cost a pretty penny to buy separately) and throat space which you can do nothing about if it is too small.

So, I’ve talked way too long and maybe not helped a whole lot. In the end, I’d say look for something with more than 6″ throat space, feed dogs that can be dropped (or there’s a plate that can be put over them), something that comes with a walking foot or there is one available for that model, and/or a free motion foot if you’re interested in that kind of quilting. Watch videos on youtube and make sure you’re comfortable with threading and the bobbin (I love drop in bobbins for ease of use!) And be willing to spend I would say at least $500 if you plan on quilting and don’t want to upgrade out of frustration any time soon. Can you get away with a machine half that price? Yes, but when you’re frustrated and want to punt it, be careful not to break toes ;)

I also did a lot of my research reading recommendation threads in r/sewing and r/quilting if you use reddit. A LOT of people there either tell you to go to a shop and test drive everything, or go pick up an old 70s metal machine for cheap without actually giving you advice on what brands to look out for lol. It’s half helpful, and half even more frustrating. Also try auction sites- not only ebay, but shopgoodwill can be useful too!

Good luck!!

#downthepub #sewing machines #good lord i ramble #long post #sorry

7 notes · View notes

emospritelet · 6 years

Text

Kiss of Life - chapter 5

I’m taking a break from the Rumbelle Angst War to post KoL. Just recharging my batteries you understand...

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

AO3 link

Belle had Tuesday off, and she spent her time exploring the town, sharing an iced tea with Ruby at Granny’s and picking through the book selection at the local thrift store. She walked through the park in the afternoon, smiling at the sounds of local children playing on the swings, bundled up in scarves and gloves and colourful hats. The sun was out, frost sparkling on the ground, and she had her hands deep in the pockets of her coat, a scarf wrapped around her chin to keep out the cold. An old man was making his way towards her, wrapped in a long coat with a black felt hat on his head, white beard twitching as he approached one of the benches. Belle watched as he reached into the pocket of his coat, pulling out a book and promptly dropping it.

“Oh, let me get that for you!” she said hastily, trotting over, and bent to pick it up.

The old man smiled, bowing his head.

“Thank you, miss,” he said, in a low voice. “Not as limber as I used to be.”

Belle turned the book over in her hands.

“Lord of the Rings?” she said. “It’s been years since I read this.”

“I read it once a year, in winter,” said the man. “Sort of a ritual, you see. On sunny days like this I like to take some exercise around the park, sit on the bench until it’s too cold and then get a coffee at Granny’s. When you’re retired, it’s good to get out of the house.”

“What was your work?” she asked, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling.

“I taught at the elementary school,” he said. “Oh, years ago now, but I enjoyed it. I’ve seen the kids I taught grow up and have kids of their own. Makes you feel old.”

“Must have been rewarding, though, sharing knowledge and encouraging children to read and grow,” said Belle. “I had plans to be a librarian when I left college.”

“Oh?” he said, interested. “What happened?”

She shrugged.

“Life,” she said, a little gloomily. “Couldn’t find work, and had to move back with my dad. I’m working up at the hospital at the moment. Just helping out, but it’s enjoyable. Worthwhile, you know?”

“Ah,” he said. “I was in there not so long back with my hip. Wonderful staff. A little lacking in reading material, though. Mostly magazines.”

He lifted his book, with a somewhat rueful smile, and Belle chewed her lip thoughtfully.

“Well, maybe I could do something about that,” she said, an idea starting to take form in her mind. “It was lovely to meet you. I’m Belle French, by the way.”

He touched his hat, his beard twitching as he smiled.

“Alfred Prentice, at your service.”

The sunny weather didn’t last, the rain returning by Thursday and turning to sleet, but Belle was busy at the hospital and barely noticed. She had decided to take Mr Prentice’s comments about a lack of reading material on board, and so she had returned to the thrift store and bought all the decent-quality novels they had. Getting them to the hospital had meant persuading her father to give her a lift when he was out making deliveries, but as flowers were ordered for patients on a regular basis, they were able to kill two birds with one stone. The locker room now had three boxes of books stacked in a corner, and Belle had hunted around for something that she could use to transport them around the wards, eventually borrowing an old cart from the janitor. She hadn’t bothered to discuss the book collection with Zelena, instead going straight to Glinda South, who was Zelena’s senior. Glinda was a warm, pleasant woman, who could see the benefit to patients being able to access reading material, and was only too happy for Belle to run the scheme.

Belle was in the process of arranging books into genres in the patients’ waiting area, separating romance from fantasy, horror from history. She chewed her lip as she looked over the titles she had managed to gather together. I need more children’s books on this thing. The kids are sometimes in this place the longest.

“Here you go-o!”

Ruby’s sing-song voice made Belle look around, and she smiled as she saw Ruby standing with a wide grin on her face and a paper bag swinging from one hand.

“Pastrami with tomato and hot mustard, just as you like it.”

“God, you’re an angel,” sighed Belle. “I’m starving!”

“Figured you’d forget to eat lunch if I didn’t remind you,” said Ruby cheerfully. “Too much dedication’s a bad thing. You make my half-assy waitressing look bad. Take a break.”

Belle smiled, nodding, and stacked the pile of books she had been sorting on the cart. Ruby looked them over with interest as she handed Belle her sandwich.

“You running a library in this place?”

“Well, kind of,” said Belle. “I bought a bunch of books from the thrift store, and added some of my own - the patients don’t get to read unless someone brings in material, so I figured this would help.”

She bit into the sandwich, mouth watering, and let out a tiny moan of pleasure as the heat of the mustard and the salt of the pastrami bathed her tongue.

“That’s so good,” she said, in a muffled voice.

“Hey, Belle.”

Dorothy’s voice made her look around.

“When you’re done with lunch, could you bring some fresh linens to the kids’ ward?” she asked, flicking dark braids back over her shoulders. “Grace threw up again, and if I have to clean up another pile of vomit I think I’ll kill myself.”

Belle giggled.

“Not a problem.”

Dorothy sent her a grateful smile, eyes flicking to Ruby, and she nodded a greeting before stomping off in the direction of the children’s ward. Belle took another bite of her sandwich, noticing that Ruby’s eyes had gone very wide in her face.

“Who’s that?” asked Ruby.

“Oh, that’s Dorothy,” said Belle carelessly. “Nurse Gale to you.”

She gave Ruby a cheeky grin, and Ruby shook her head, huffing out air as she fanned herself with a hand.

“She could check me for a fever anytime,” she remarked. “How come I haven’t seen her before?”

“New in town,” said Belle. “I could ask her out for you, if you like. Couldn’t go any worse than the date you arranged for me.”

Ruby sighed.

“Okay, I admit Isaac was a disaster,” she said. “Don’t lose heart, okay? We’ll find someone who’s perfect.”

“And in the meantime I can pass on your fondest regards to Dorothy,” said Belle, with a grin.

“Oh no, don’t do that,” said Ruby hastily. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Only way to find out is ask.”

“You’ve never asked a girl out, have you?” said Ruby dryly. “It takes at least two years of politeness and mutual pining before one of you gets brave or drunk enough to make the first move.”

“Sounds way too complicated,” said Belle. “But have it your way. Maybe I can see if she wants to come on a girls’ night.”

Ruby perked up.

“That would be okay.”

Belle found that she had to bow out of the Friday night get-together when she was asked to work a double shift that weekend. An outbreak of flu was spreading through the town, and several of the hospital staff had been struck down, leaving everyone else overworked. Belle rushed along the corridor, carrying an armful of fresh linen and trying to ignore her aching feet. She had worked four days in a row, and hoped that no more of the staff would succumb to the illness. They were short-handed as it was, and things were only getting worse as the weather turned colder.

For most of the residents of Storybrooke, staying in their own homes and drinking plenty of fluids was enough, but this strain of the flu had been particularly nasty, taking its toll on the weak and sick, the young and the elderly. She bit her lip as she saw old Mr Prentice being wheeled along on a gurney, eyes closed above his white beard, looking drawn and tired. Wishing him a speedy recovery, she hurried along to the children’s ward, pushing open the door and almost knocking Dorothy on her back. Belle apologised quickly, but Dorothy shook her head.

“It’s okay, we’ve all been here too long, I think,” she said wearily, and glanced over her shoulder. “Especially him. Do me a favour and see if you can get him to go home and get some rest. The guy’s been here eighteen hours at least.”

Belle peered over her shoulder. Dr Gold was reading a chart at the end of little Grace Milliner’s bed and frowning. He looked exhausted, but she knew full well that he was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. Getting him out of there wouldn’t be easy.

“I’m done for the day, anyway,” added Dorothy. “Gonna go home and try to get a whole six hours of sleep before we do this again.”

She patted Belle’s shoulder and wandered off down the corridor, and Belle hurried over to Dr Gold’s side, setting down the armful of linen.

“You look like death,” she said, not unkindly.

Dr Gold glanced up. His eyes were dark hollows in his face, his cheeks drawn, but he smiled briefly.

“Miss French,” he said. “I had no idea you were still here. Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“You’re one to talk,” she said, and he shrugged.

“There’s too much work here.”

“Yeah, and it’ll still be here after you’ve actually had some rest,” she said firmly. “You know Dr Whale’s on shift now, right? Let him take over.”

“With new patients coming in every hour?” he said dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He turned away, hooking the chart over the end of the bed and reaching over to feel Grace’s forehead. He frowned again, and Belle sighed.

“Look, you know you have to sleep sometime,” she said reasonably. “Sleep deprivation can lead to mistakes, everyone knows that.”

“I just need more coffee,” he said repressively. “If you want to be useful, why don’t you go get me one? And then you can go home, you look dead on your feet.”

He walked to the next bed, picking up the chart and fumbling it. Belle caught it before it hit the floor, and he sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“Go. Home,” she said firmly. “Eight hours, that’s all I ask. If you don’t rest, your immune system will be throwing a welcome party for that flu virus, and you know it. How much good is it gonna do your patients if you’re too sick to tend to them?”

Dr Gold’s face appeared to go through the five stages of grief, but eventually he sighed heavily.

“Fine, you win,” he said, in a defeated tone. “Get your coat.”

Belle blinked.

“My - my coat?”

“Well, if I’m leaving, so are you,” he said tersely. “Or are you too stubborn to take your own advice? I’m driving you home. Meet me outside the main entrance. Ten minutes.”

He stomped off with an air of irritation, and Belle gaped after him. He was driving her home?

#fic: kiss of life #rumbelle fic #my fic #dr gold x candy striper belle

25 notes · View notes

plenilune · 6 years

Text

for anon, a peek around the Fairfax Institute! only a peek, as some of my favourite bits (the bookshelves/armchairs/tea table section of the study, say) are too deep in It’s Been Like One Degree For Days And The Holidays Just Happened And Everyone Is Kind Of Depressed layers of clutter to be photographed.

this little bit in the bedroom is one of my favourite tiny curated spaces. is almost all of this from Michaels’ 2016 Halloween collection? YOU BET. the shelf and the BONKERS-AMAZING CASTLE PICTURE FRAME were thrifted, though.

yes that skull is made of velvet. the unlabelled bottle contains six pomegranate seeds.

next we have my bulletin board, which is next to my armchair and my bookshelf. (@gaslampsglow and I each have one armchair and one bookshelf on either side of the big window in the centre of the room. this room was supposed to be a dining room but instead we put desks and armchairs in it and... forfeited owning a dining room table or indeed any non-work table of any kind. still worth it.) ANYWAY having a bulletin board to over time fill with personal memento scraps is an extremely important part of me being alive. the wings are Michaels Christmas decor, re-painted milk-glass green. (LOOK. I WORK AT MICHAELS.) and yes, that’s a poster of cryptozoologist and ufologist trading cards purchased from a vendor at the Mothman Festival in 2014.

side-note: I absentmindedly stuck my voting sticker on a postcard that @peripatetia sent me for safekeeping the night of November 11 and haven’t had the heart to put it somewhere that makes my throat close up less since. argh. also my old MTA card fell off again. boo.

the top of my bookshelf really needs a re-curation as it’s just sort of a jumble of decor but: ALIEN BUST FROM @thelightofthingshopedfor!!!!! my beloved gargoyle bookends! MY FAVOURITE BOOK TITLE IN THE WORRRRRLD.

my desk, which is my Most Personal Space and very important. it also has unremovable coffee stains so a new paint job is in order at some point. Corey made the jackalope portrait (his name is Fairfax) for me for our first Christmas together and @endquestionmark bought the UFO painting from a street vendor in Manhattan. I have two of those lovely candelabrum and I bought them at a yard sale in Pennsylvania when I was a teenager.

Corey’s desk is a mess and he will have a green-slime meltdown if I show it to anyone when it’s not at Peak Aesthetic but at the moment it’s got a lot of ink bottles and approximately three hundred different packs of playing cards on it. also a baby graboid in a jar.

also both desks have got ridiculous leather/faux leather wingback armchairs at them, because the local consignment shop on two separate occasions had them for NOTHING. they have sold battered cloth armchairs for TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS, I do not know what happened. my giant leather wingback swivel chair which I got for twenty dollars is MY FAVOURITE THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD but I can’t take a picture of it because then you would see the floor and that’s Forbidden.

this is the sword corner. it’s important because that’s an umbrella stand but we only have like one umbrella so mostly it’s full of swords. also the coatrack, which only holds about a fifth of the stupid amount of coats this house has amassed in total. my turn-of-the-century steamer trunk is in the corner in front of the tv. (my mother got it from FreeCycle???? for my eighteenth birthday????? somehow?????? anyway it’s supposed to be a coffee table but currently it is a Things Repository.)

this is behind the door, in case you needed a mission statement. @cryptoglyph raised our tour prices, the scoundrel. (so far NO ONE HAS PAID US TO WALK THEM AROUND OUR TINY HOME which is a scandal. our friends are useless.)

right next to the sign there are boats, because Of Course There Are.

and the infamous window, which features in like a full six percent of all my photos now. I’d take a photo of the display as it’s meant to be seen from outside but it’s like no degrees outside so no thank you. the bust of Diana was purchased at the auction house where Corey works. the deer skull is from an antique shop in Milton, Ohio. the weird bottles are from everywhere. we have kind of a weird bottle problem.

finally, some of our very best friends and haunted pals: the SEALED JAR O’ DEMON (we found the jar at a thrift store and Corey aged it and added the seal &ct), the can of black oil, the re-painted jackalope skeleton (in retrospect it’s great Target’s was that silly black colour because it looks fantastic repainted to have a more believable bone texture), and my pal the haunted clown music box that summoned me in a thrift store (the thrift stores here may have a Haunted Murder Object... Problem) which we trapped in a glass cage so it can’t do anything... weird. hopefully. we’re gonna make a POSITIVELY DO NOT sign for it a la the Warrens.

ANYWAY THAT IS SOME BITS OF MY HOUSE. (the Entire Breakfront, the study nook, the Burma Shave sign, the paranormal murderboard, and Corey’s bits being the most left out.) it is very small and right now it is very cold but we have made it extremely good for all that.

#the diary #about me #important placeholder tag

43 notes · View notes

scandinaviacroatiaengbergs · 5 years

Text

Tuesday: A day full of Copenhagen fun

On Tuesday morning, once we were up and rolling, we went out by foot and double stroller and stopped into a grocery store (Netto) because we had no food in the house. We got the kids a pastry to share, each a squeeze-fruit porridge thing, and a banana each, and these days they profess that they love “green” bananas but I really think Rowan does but Cece is a mimic so she says she does too, and then won’t finish it. We also bought a sleeve of oat biscuits, which we’ve had variants of in miscellaneous countries, and I am always a fan. So, that was breakfast. The kids alternatingly walked and strolled and we popped into assorted shops (a few thrift stores) on the way down Gammel Kongevej toward Tivoli Gardens. Once we got to Tivoli, we checked out the ticket prices and decided that rather than getting unlimited ride wristbands for all of us, we’d go with just a few rides and buy tickets for those. We ended up, once in the park, revising that plan, and the kids got unlimited ride wristbands, because that was the most cost-effective plan.

So, I am not sure even sure how to describe Tivoli Gardens. It is one of the oldest “pleasure gardens” or amusement parks in the world. It is like super nicely organized, polished, lit-up (even though we were there in the day, we could tell there were lights strung everywhere) and all of the buildings were so cute; I mean, I am not even sure I can describe them in another way. They were like beautiful cakes, with ornate, pastel decorations on all sides. And then there were the plants! And the troops of gardeners we could see busily working everywhere! Since it is June, the flowers were all in bloom. It was a sunny, warm day when we were there, and I am glad we arrived at about 11:30 and we stayed until about 3:00, before it was even busier and hotter. In the period of time we were there, the kids did bumper boats, a little plane ride that goes up high and then dips down low toward water (and you can move it up and down yourself with a hydraulic lever), a small roller coaster, a little train-car things that drove around the park, a carousel with two levels, and a ride Cece called “storybook land,” which is a small, slow roller coaster inside a building that has Hans Christian Andersen moving dioramas throughout, retelling various tales in very short clips (“The Princess and the Pea,” “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” “Thumbelina,” which is Cece’s absolute favorite). I rode one ride called “Monsoon,” and seriously, I used to be a real fan of crazy rollercoasters, but I think I’ve lost my knack! Perhaps I’ve aged out! But, man, my dad and I last went to a crazy amusement park and rode some rollercoaster called the Scorpion or something when he was maybe in his late fifties, so I think I’ve just aged-out early. I used to love them! Anyway, the kids were pretty worn out and just rode in the stroller as we hoofed it back up to our Airbnb, because I had a phone meeting at 3:30. During that time, the kids got to play in the backyard –with the playhouse and sandbox—for about an hour. I could hear them, way down four flights, during my meeting. I swear, they’re the loudest kids in all of Scandinavia, though Peter and his wife assured us the night before that they were not.

After my meeting, we set out again, heading down to the main shopping street, Strøget, with a hope of eventually ending up at some rentable “GoBoats.” We ate a Mediterranean dinner and tried to fill ourselves right up so we’d have energy to stay out late and see some more sights. It was after 6 p.m., so we didn’t get to go into any of the fancy shops, but I wouldn’t have really wanted to many anyway, except for one called Illums Bolighus, which, according to the “Visit Copenhagen” website, is “the premier centre in Scandinavia for Danish and international design,” so I am sorry I missed out on that. We also walked by the Nikolaj Copenhagen Contemporary Art Center, in an old church, and that looked very cool and was probably a place we would’ve enjoyed, but it was late and they were closed. I guess we’ll just have to take another trip to Copenhagen sometime! We really couldn’t do it justice in a day and a half.

Anyway, we did get down to the harbor where the GoBoat rentals were, but at that same time, we noticed a canal-side swim center, and the kids insisted on going in, so they stripped down to their underwear, and with Eric, they waded in. It is called the Havenbadet and it is a place where local Danes get crazy with jumping off huge platforms into the water and there is, as my kids noticed, a shallow-pool area for kids. That was fun for a while, until they got cold, so I put them in their dry clothes and we walked back home, with, finally, a stop for ice-cream en route. I chose stracciatella, Rowan chose banana, and Cece chose strawberry, and Eric did “clean up” and taste-testing.

The kids went to bed quickly, after a shower to get all of the canal gunk and algae off of them, and then Eric and I stayed up and strategized on our packing and whether to do laundry there, where there actually was a dryer (very rare), or whether to wait until we got to Croatia. We opted for the latter, and just got everything packed and then, I was in bed just around midnight, after a quick FaceTime with my mom. So, the next morning, we adults got up around 7:30 and then the kids lagged a little longer in bed. By 8:40, we were in a cab on the way to Copenhagen Airport to get our Croatia Airlines flight to Zagreb! One little tidbit I learned from the in-flight magazine: the airline updated their logo and the painting of their planes in the last year and I don’t know what their previous design was, but their new one features like cascading squares, in red and blue. The explanation for this design is that squares are a very important shape in Croatian culture, and I though, wow, that is interesting and probably something I should learn more about . . .

I will post more photos from this Copenhagen day separately!

0 notes