#message me for your frames and frameless
Text
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Soon You’ll Get Better- Coops
Hi!! I’m the anon who is doing a sweater weather x folklore mini-series!! I have a few already in the making right now so keep an eye out... but before I do that I have to do this. I was listening to my favorite sad Swift songs (as one does after a breakup) and this one came up (of course) and there is no other song in the entire world that will make me cry more about the end of SW chapter 16 right now, so... you get this, set over a few days a little after that! I promise some of these will be happy haha.
Characters of course by the absolutely amazing @lumosinlove !!! <33
~~~~~~~~~~
The buttons of my coat were tangled in my hair
In doctor's-office-lighting, I didn't tell you I was scared
That was the first time we were there
Remus barely made it through the door, hair messy, coat definitely buttoned wrong, before collapsing into a chair by Sirius’s bed. Sirius, who was hooked up to at least five machines; Sirius, who had his eyes closed and, he had been told, hadn’t opened them in hours. Sirius, who was laying pale in a hospital bed, looking so much like he had that day, years ago, that Remus felt his heart rip into even smaller bits.
He remembered that day, of course, still had nightmares about it. He remembered Sirius’s eyes, steely gray and focused on his own as he was carried away on a stretcher, he remembered the waiting and the pacing and the sitting and the waiting some more.
He remembered their first physical therapy appointment. Remus had tried to keep his voice calm as he stretched Sirius’s ankle and helped him stand. The lights had been too bright, everything had been too loud- or maybe that was just the fear. He had tried his best not to let his worry show, but-
But, Remus thought with a shaky breath. That was then. This is now.
Holy orange bottles, each night I pray to you
Desperate people find faith, so now I pray to Jesus too
And I say to you
Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better
Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better
Ooh-ah, you'll get better soon
'Cause you have to
Remus had never really been religious, but now felt like a good time to try. He ran his fingertips over his watch, pressing his lips to the words etched underneath- mon vœu.
I wish, he prayed silently, to who knows what, or who, I wish for Sirius. I know I have him, but- but I need him to be okay. I need him to be okay. Please. That’s my wish.
Sirius’s hand was cold- well, colder than usual- when Remus intertwined their fingers. He squeezed gently, resting his forehead against Sirius’s.
“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he whispered against the tears forming, “But... I love you. I love you so much. You’ll be okay. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to wake up and you’ll be fine and you’re going to come home soon and I’m going to make you dinner, whatever you want. I’ll make you sandwiches, or pasta, or I’ll get Sid’s, anything. You hear me?” Remus squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in Sirius’s hair. He smelled like doctors and rubbing alcohol. “You’re coming home soon. You have to.”
You like the nicer nurses, you make the best of a bad deal
Remus was shaken awake gently by one of the nurses, holding out a bottle with a kind smile. He rubbed his eyes and glanced around frantically.
“Is everything okay? Is he- He’s-”
“He’s fine, love. Well, as fine as he was yesterday,” she said softly, writing something in Sirius’s chart as she checked the monitors. “It’s been a few hours, I wanted to let you rest, but I figured you’d need something to eat or drink.”
Remus twisted the cap off the bottle, eyes focused on Sirius’s hand on the bed. He took a sip and vaguely registered that it was Gatorade. Blue.
The nurse nodded at him before making her way to the door, and Remus looked up, grabbing her arm gently as she passed by. She looked down in surprise.
“I just- Thanks. Thank you.”
She just smiled, a little sadly, and patted his hand.
I'll paint the kitchen neon, I'll brighten up the sky
I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try
And I'll say to you
Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better
Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better
Ooh-ah, you'll get better soon
'Cause you have to
“I’ve been thinking about our home, baby,” he whispered into Sirius’s hair. The nurses hadn’t let him get much closer than pulling a chair up to the side of Sirius’s bed, but Remus was making it work.
“We could paint the kitchen yellow... I think it would look happy. I need a little happy right now, I think we both do." Remus smoothed the hair back from Sirius’s forehead and pressed a gentle kiss there.
“Actually,” he laughed softly, “I just need you, love. I need you to get better, because I’m horrible at matching colors. You have to get better so we can go paint shopping, and furniture shopping. We could buy some picture frames. You can hang up all your pictures, and we can take some more, of the two of us- together. No more frameless photos on the dresser. No more hotel houses.”
And I hate to make this all about me
But who am I supposed to talk to?
What am I supposed to do
If there's no you?
Remus’s phone buzzed from his coat hanging by the door, but he couldn’t be bothered to check. He felt bad- it was probably one of the boys, James, maybe, checking up on Sirius, checking up on him. Half of his brain was yelling at him that Sirius didn’t belong to him, Sirius wasn’t just his. They cared about him too, they just wanted to know how he was doing, they just wanted to show their love for their captain.
He didn’t pick up his phone.
Remus tucked his knees against his chest, laying an arm and his head on top, the other hand still holding Sirius’s.
“What am I supposed to do, Pads?” He fought back the tears in his throat and wiped his eyes. “What am I supposed to do?”
This won't go back to normal, if it ever was
It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because
'Cause I have to
He’ll be fine, Remus told himself over and over and over. He’ll be fine. He was fine last time-
A small voice in the back of his head interrupted. But last time wasn’t this bad-
Shut up. He’ll be fine. This time isn’t that bad either-
That’s a lie and you know it.
He was fine last time, so he’ll be fine now. He has to be. He’s going to be okay.
Ooh-ah, you'll get better
Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better
Ooh-ah, you'll get better soon
Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better
Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better
Ooh-ah, you'll get better soon
'Cause you have to
Remus had finally convinced the main nurse, Ana, to let him get into the bed with Sirius, as long as he promised not to touch any wires and not to move him.
He laid his head on Sirius’s shoulder, running his fingers through his dark hair. His lower lip trembled, and he bit down to try to stop crying. It didn’t work.
“You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, you’ll be all better soon, you’ll be alright...”
The words tumbled out of his mouth almost as fast as the tears falling into Sirius’s hair, but he couldn’t seem to stop mumbling them under his breath. Maybe this was his new superstition. His way to keep his good luck charm.
As Remus drifted off to sleep, the only thing he dreamt of was the boy next to him, happy, awake, laughing and holding Remus’s hand as they watched the sunrise from Sirius’s balcony. Better.
~~~~~~~~~~
:) nope :) I didn’t make myself cry :) Whatever do you mean :)
P.S. I’m starting my sw x folklore series! One anon said Logan as betty (YES) and if you have any requests just send them to me (asks, messages, idrc) and I’ll see if I already have that song for someone :) xo
#lumosinlove#coops#cap and loops#sweater weather#not me crying#i need to go the fuck to bed#soon you'll get better#taylor swift#this is what happens#when i listen to sad music at 4 am#someone make me sleep#not me listening to this song on repeat for an hour
147 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey I know this is a difficult one, but could you write one where MJ cheats on Pete? The resolution is completely up to you
//Um, are you kidding??? Thank you SO much for sending in this prompt, I love angst! Stay safe and healthy, darling, and I hope you enjoy!
Stretched Too Thin
Summary: How much weight can a spider’s silk bear?
Characters: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones
Wordcount: 2,603
Warnings: HEAVY Angst, Cheating, Hurt
“We never kissed.”
Peter never thought that his life would bring him here: to the center of the apartment he just bought with MJ, standing in the middle of all of the piled boxes and the orange glow from the streetlamps outside the window. A feeling of emptiness sinks in his chest, and it’s more painful than any injury he has ever sustained while running around with the world on his shoulders.
At least when he is hurt while fighting, there is blood welling from the wound or the throbbing of a bruise: something to remind him he is still alive. As Peter stands here now, he feels like he is floating, tangled in webbing and bobbing above the ground. He can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think as the hollow numbness in his chest spreads to flood him with nothingness from head to toe.
It feels cold.
“We never even met more than three times, and we didn’t… Do anything. We just talked.”
Peter is looking anywhere but his girlfriend, who is standing two feet away but somehow feels much farther. He knows what he will see if their eyes meet: he will see her face in all of its constancy. He will see dark eyes locked on his own, searching. He will see a carefully composed mask, separating emotions from the truth that is on her lips.
It is the face he has always loved for its honesty, that has now been forever changed by that same lust for truth.
“When?”
He doesn’t remember planning on saying the word, but when it tears from his throat it is husky and constricted, more like a cough than a word.
The answer meets the air quickly, like a bullet from a loaded pistol. Peter has dodged plenty of those, but he knows that these will land and leave scars forever.
“Two weeks ago. While you… While you were in Cairo.”
Another threat, another battle. The perfect place to hunt a Scorpion, and another victory to wear on his chest for his effort. But is it worth it, compared to what he has lost for his time?
He does not ask anything else, but MJ is speaking anyway. The words are heavy but swift as they leave her lips, each another blow.
“It was the DA in the Kleinfield case.”
Peter does not move, blinking blankly as he registers the name of MJ’s latest client. The dusty floorboards of the apartment squeak beneath his feet as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He remembers the night they first moved in, sweeping the broken glass and carpet fibers from the wood and putting a blanket over boxes as a tablecloth for their Chinese takeout. He remembers falling asleep in MJ’s arms on their frameless mattress, the sheets slipping off the corners and the chill not quite reaching them so long as they were tangled together.
He’s cold now.
“It was a case that I… That I didn’t believe in. They come sometimes, and as a Public Defender you can’t turn them down.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to talk about this stuff. Attorney-client privilege.”
“This is more important than my work, Peter.”
“Or it’s just getting easier and easier for you to betray people’s trust.”
There is quiet between them now, and it is not the contemplative, easy silence that he and MJ have perfected to a tee. He knows he’s struck a nerve, and something in Peter pangs with guilt. He never wanted to cause her pain… He remembers looking upon her the first time they kissed, at the worry that had creased her brow at the blood weeping from his cuts, and swearing to himself that he would do his best never to put that expression on her face again.
Maybe he wasn’t the one who needed to worry.
“We talked after the case.” There is something tight in her voice now. It reminds Peter of a clenched fist. She is not going to swing with it if she can help it; she will stay calm. The rational one. Always careful, planning her next step.
Then how the hell did this happen?
“He… His arguments were clean, honest. He didn’t use cheap emotional appeals or play dirty. I fought my hardest because it’s my job, and he respected that, but he also saved me from having to go home knowing I’d let a guilty woman walk.”
“So we met for coffee.”
Peter draws in a sharp breath, turning his back on her. There is a stabbing pain in the back of his throat as he listens, his own hands balling so tightly that his nails jab into his palms. If he’s not careful, his super-strength might cause him to draw blood. Maybe he doesn’t have to be careful. Maybe he can give up control over this one thing; after all, she wasn’t careful. God knows he should be allowed a slip-up.
“He invited me, and we went to a cafe. We sat, drank coffee. Talked. About work first, then writing, then a few other things. I only went one more time after that, and that was it.”
“And did he ask you to come again?”
Peter’s voice is quiet, composed again. The words are terse. MJ draws in a breath, and then she speaks again in a tone matching his.
“Yes. I said no the couple times he texted after, and then he stopped messaging. Nothing happened, Peter. I’m not proud of it, but it didn’t mean anything.”
“I’ve known you a long time,” Peter breathes, turning back. Her feet are clad in the Spider-Man slippers that May bought her as a joke last Christmas, and Peter doesn’t look anywhere else. However, the tension she holds in her body extends all the way down to her toes.
“I’ve never known you to say anything you don’t mean.”
A beat.
“You have every right to be angry.”
“Thanks for reading me my rights. Good to know the law is on my side even if you aren’t.”
For the first time, the tension she is holding creeps to her voice. “I’m sorry. It was a mistake, Peter. I know it’s my fault, I know that sorry won’t make it better. But… I am.”
“I thought it didn’t mean anything, so what do you have to be sorry for.”
“Peter.”
His eyes finally snap up to hers, and it is just as he predicted. They bore into him, deep and dark and piercing. He can see the tangle of hurt and frustration that gleams within them, and her brow is furrowed the same way it is when she is looking over documents for her work, trying to figure out how to make them say what she wants to.
Well, he won’t. It’s not rational, the pain and sadness that bubble up in him like magma from a split in the earth, but he can’t seem to force them down. Maybe it’s the exhaustion; maybe it’s the weeks spent in the blistering heat pursuing leads to stop a man who hurt thousands. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or the hunger that is currently gnawing at his stomach. But he can’t keep it all in anymore, not after months of being called away to fight the next big, bad guy.
He can’t keep it in, not even for her anymore.
“Why the hell did you tell me?”
His voice breaks as he looks at her, and he feels a painful stinging in his eyes that throbs in time with the lump in his throat like an accompaniment.
MJ blinks, and for the first time Peter sees some indication that she is rattled. She makes her living anticipating questions, anticipating responses. He knows what it looks like when she is on the receiving end of an inquiry she isn’t prepared for.
It doesn’t happen often.
“It’s the truth.”
The words are a reflex for her, spoken as if they are the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe they are, to her. A draft breezes through the house, probably something that snuck through the window frames. Peter is already colder than he has ever been, but the little breath of wind ruffles the few curls that have escaped MJ’s messy bun, the ones that are lit orange by the phosphorous lamps. Goosebumps rise on her arms beneath her ratty, Columbia University t-shirt.
The urge to offer her his jacket is overwhelming, but Peter manages to resist it as the silence stretches on.
“So you didn’t tell me because you thought you owed it to me,” he murmurs, his voice starting soft. As he continues speaking, it rises slightly in pitch, and though he is not yelling, he cannot keep the pain from his voice.
“You didn’t tell me because it’s the next step to rebuilding, to moving on. You told me to make yourself feel better.”
“Peter, you know how I feel about-”
“About truth? Yeah, I do. You worship it.”
“Don’t interrupt me.”
MJ’s eyes have narrowed slightly, and Peter knows this look. It is the same one that crosses her face when a witness is being evasive on cross-exam.
“I screwed up, Peter. I hurt you, and that’s something I… It’s not what I ever wanted. You can be angry. But don’t speak over me.”
“So that’s where you draw the line?”
“What?”
“That’s the boundary you can’t cross? You can have an– an emotional affair with someone, you can text and talk on the phone and meet up with someone behind my back, but the moment I cut you off, that’s where your tolerance runs out?”
MJ steps towards him, and there is anger in her eyes now. It is desperate, wild, defensive. It doesn’t look that far from sorrow, really. But Peter can tell that she’s clinging at it with the same claws she uses to grasp for truth for those who deserve it, to drag the truth, bloody and bruised, out of the cracks and caves it hides in and into the light.
“That’s not a valid argument, Peter, and you know it. Those two things aren’t comparable. It’s a fallacy of logic.”
“That’s your problem with what I’m saying?”
He takes a step closer, too, and his voice rises to pure, broken desperation as his shoulders slump.
“I can tell you I’m hurt and frustrated and-and you’re concerned with the validity of my argument’s premises?”
“No. I can tell you’re overwhelmed and lashing out, and I’m trying to focus you on where that hurt really comes from.” Her voice is collected, but only just; her eyes are pleading, but she has not let down the wall she had up the moment he walked in the room.
“I’m not one of your witnesses, MJ!”
The statement bursts from him, and for some odd reason Peter almost feels like laughing as he brings his hands up between him, clutching with clawed fingers at the air as if he is trying to grip onto nothing.
“You can’t set me up in front of you to extract what you want me to say!”
“I’m not trying to do that, Peter! You’re not a witness, I’m not– you’re so much more than my work to me, Peter. I love you.”
“If I’m more than your work, then how did this happen?”
“I was alone, Peter!”
The words burst from her lips, and they’re the first thing Peter can tell she really did not mean to say. In an instant, his face clears of emotion. Everything just feels heavy, as if the effort of even maintaining an expression is too much.
“I didn’t mean to say that.”
“No, keep going.” His words are monotone, robotic.
A pause, in which the only sound is the rattling of the thin glass windowpanes and the whining of the house’s old, weary bones.
“I… I missed you, Peter.”
“I was gone for three weeks.”
“Please let me talk.”
Peter purses his lips, eyes not leaving her face. There is something pleading in it now, something that twists his heart like a dagger to the chest.
“I… I know it was only three weeks. But I just-” MJ’s face tenses, and her lips shrug downwards as she swallows, trying to find the words.
“I missed you before that. You’re so selfless, Peter, and I’ve always struggled with the fact that I’m… I’m never going to be able to match how good you are.”
Peter feels the stinging in his eyes intensify. His face is cold, unfeeling.
“Always helping, always putting your life on the line. Morocco, Berlin, Egypt, Italy, you just– You change the world every day. And when you come back, I can see the ghost of the parts you give away to those people.”
Marble. He is marble.
“And I help people, I’m not trying to diminish that. But it isn’t–it’s not black-and-white, it’s not… It’s not simple. I don’t get to leave the people I helped, knowing I made their life better.”
Tears spark in her eyes, and she does not bother to address them as one slips free. Her face does not change. “I get to be told that… That I’m helping the villains. The ones who did it, and who are trying to get away with it. For all the good people I help, there are the ones who are guilty, and I’m-I’m good, Peter. I’m good at what I do.”
“Good for you.”
“Please.”
The streetlamps turn the tears the color of liquid gold, orange and glowing in the dim light.
“I couldn’t look myself in the eye in the mirror. I couldn’t look at all of the things that… That were here, reminding me of high school and college and the person who wanted to make the world a better place, not turn cheaters and liars and oppressors back into it.”
“So I told Harry about it. I told him, and I… I let things go farther than they should. I did it. I did it, because I couldn’t look into the eyes of the man I love and tell him that– that for every bad guy he’s put away, there’s one I’ve released.”
Her voice breaks, and Peter finds himself taking a step closer. He wants to wrap his arms around her, let her bury her face in the crook of his neck so that her curls tickle his cheek. He wants to watch one of the Planet Earth documentaries that they watch after a bad day, to eat cannoli from their favorite bakery tangled up in the quilt May gave them for their five-year anniversary.
He wants to look into those eyes, through which hope pierces the tears, and to tell her that everything is okay.
But he’s tired… So tired. The kind of tired that life inspires and nothing but time can erase.
And even then, there’s still a smudge on the paper.
Peter stares into her eyes for one moment, the broken feeling in his chest only growing like a fault line to his heart. He catches his breath, and then he is turning, shrugging back on the shoes that he had slipped off by the door.
“I’m going to May’s for the night.”
“Peter.”
“I understand, Michelle.”
“I know you do.” Her voice breaks then, and she doesn’t move. It is quiet for another moment longer. “But I was hoping…” She doesn’t finish the sentence.
“I know,” he breathes, his hand lingering on the knob. He tries to swallow the pulsing lump in his throat, and the words that follow catch after the unsuccessful attempt.
“I was, too.”
Taglist: @eniemeanie @inlovewithtoomanythings @booksarelife-stuff @AlexanderThyGreat @flawless-tlc @heynowitsafangirl @but-saving-what-we-love @haurasha @friendly-spoodermin @lundya366 @nicolewithasoul @1am9root @spiderkaren
#tw: cheating#michelle jones#peter parker#spideychelle#michelle jones x peter parker#spideychelle fanfiction#fanfiction#oneshot#original work#prompt response
42 notes
·
View notes
Note
How do you start backpacking? I want to start but don’t know what gear/where to go
Omg hello! Yes, yes, I’m super excited! Okay. So I will try to get you started. But before we start, you gotta know the motto: every ounce counts!
The Backpack
The first thing you’re obviously going to need is good hiking experience and a backpack. Your backpack will be dependent on a number of factors, most importantly though correct fit, trip length, frame style, and additional features.
Correct Fit: Packs are usually measured by torso length from like 15-20+ inches. Stores like REI are great Bc they can help you properly fit your backpack to you, but you really want a pack that is comfortable on your hips as that is where you’ll be carrying the majority of the weight. If it feels like it’s in your shoulders, don’t get that bag, you’ll pay for it.
Trip Length: are you going overnight or a lengthy week long+ trip? I like to generally go for a larger pack as it is more versatile and packs can be expensive! I’d say a good multi-day pack is 60-80 liters. If you’re going longer than 5 days, I’d suggest at least 70 and up. If you plan on being more of a weekend backpacker (2-3 days) you can get away with a 50-60 liter bag and you’ll save empty pack weight. If you plan on just doing overnight excursions though, save the money and weight and go for something like 30-50 depending on how many “luxuries” you want to bring with you. I have an 80 liter and I LOVE it. I can pack pretty easily for a 5 day trip depending on how much water I have to bring (depends on environment). ***However*** if you plan on being more of a winter backpacker, CHOOSE A BIGGER PACK! You’ll have more gear, a bigger sleeping bag, and more clothing layers to bring with you.
Frame style: Internal vs. external frame packs. My first was an external frame, which gives you a lot of lashing opportunities (lashing means securing something to your pack with straps); however, they have pretty much been phased out at this point. But some people are diehard on them. Personally having both, I’d say the internal frame feels more stable and is more comfortable and I can fit most everything into my pack. I’d suggest internal frame honestly. There are also frameless packs for ultralight backpacking
Features: What do you want on your pack? Do you want a ton of pockets? Does it come with a hydration reservoir sleeve or built in rain cover? How many options do you have for lashing? Just some things to think about when buying a pack.
The Gear
Now that you’ve got your correctly fitted backpack, you have to fill it with gear that is essential and lightweight. There is specially made equipment for backpacking, which is lighter, smaller, and more efficient. You can find this at an outdoor sporting store and Amazon. You’ll also want to make sure you pack it correctly.
The essentials:
Tent: your tent will be dependent on season (3 season vs. 4 season ie winter), capacity (how many people are staying in it), and weight/size
Sleeping Bag and Pad: The most important decision here will be the temperature rating, which is dependent on environment. The hotter your environment, the higher your temperature rating. If you’re going in summer, aim for a +30 F and higher (0 C and up). If you’re going for spring, summer, or fall/autumn, go 15-30 F (0 to -9.4 C). For winter I’d go 0 F (-17.8 C) and below honestly. I have a 20 F bag I took in winter once and got hypothermia because the weather changed on me, so stay safe and go warmer when in doubt. You never know wtf is going to happen in winter). I now have a 0 F bag (The North Face Snowshoe) and it is amazingly warm 👍Your pad will be dependent on comfort level and environment (inflatable vs. flat/roll up). If you’re going to be sleeping on cold ground, you want something thicker to keep you away from it. If you’re in summer and don’t care about comfort as much, buy a MUCH cheaper roll up pad. The inflatables can be very expensive.
Stove, Fuel, food, and Kitchen Supplies: these are all specialized for backpacking. Lightweight and compact. Your food will be either freeze dried or dehydrated. I like Mountain House (freeze dried), but Good To-Go uses clean ingredients if that is something important to you. I recently started dehydrating my own stuff and it’s a lot cheaper/healthier!
Water and Water-Treatment: are you out in the desert and carrying your water (sucks bc heavy) or will you have access to a water source and treat it with a filter/purifier? (Pump, UV, bottle, chemicals, boiling). I use a pump and haven’t had any issues! A bit heavier though.
Clothing and Hygiene: always bring an extra pair of socks. Trust me.
Emergency/Useful Equipment: knife/multi-tool, sunscreen, headlamp (with batteries), navigation (GPS, maps, compass. I use AllTrails app and omfg, what a life saver), permits (very important to research this before going on a trip), fire supplies (matches, lighter), whistle, first-aid (with emphasis on foot care, especially for new backpackers/hikers. I recommend Moleskin for blisters), trekking poles (*highly recommend, would never backpack without them*), repair kit (to patch tent/inflatable sleeping pad)
Specifics to environment: raincover for backpack, rain gear (jacket/pants), bear spray, bear canister, gaiters (sleeves that go over your boots. I always use them because it keeps rocks out of my boots. *highly recommend for winter and muddy places*), insect repellent, mosquito net, winter gear for icy conditions (ice axe, helmet, rope, crampons, snow shoes)
Extra/Optional:
Camera, daypack with/without hydration reservoir (if you have a long trip and plan to hike away from camp), something to pass the time (book, card games), pillow, solar charger
The Trip
Now that you have everything, all that’s left is deciding where to go!
I was 13 when I started. My first backpacking trip was a simple section of the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail), 3 days/2 nights. My pack was way too heavy, I didn’t really know what I was doing, and I brought way too much stuff that I really didn’t need, but it’s one of my favorite memories with my dad.
You will learn things about how you like to set up and which gear is the most essential. You will probably bring too much weight. You will probably forget things or realize you’d really like to have a certain thing you don’t. It’s a learning process. You’ll figure it out though through trial and error (: Choose a relatively chill trail your first time and ENJOY IT!
Message me if you have any questions! Good luck!
#SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG#I wanted to actually try to be helpful instead of throw a link at you hahahah#I hope it helps though!!!#Please backpack#it's so much fun!#backpacking#I know this isnt soccer but it's something I love so here you go lmao
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hey, Tumblr, did you know that there’s an Interior Design Police as well as a Fashion Police?! Strangely neither did I until I stumbled upon a listicle entitled 75 Things No Woman Over 50 Should Own on the delusionarily titled bestlifeonline.com. There, along with the usual arbitrary selections of sartorial crimes against humanity, (tracky bottoms, skinny scarves, bolero jackets), were the following:-
Tapestries. (What, even if one designed and made them oneself, comme ça?)
Neon signs.
A piggy bank.
Novelty salt and pepper shakers, (Oops!)
A vinyl tablecloth.
Novelty pillows. (Dang!)
A rolodex.
Indoor wicker furniture.
A lava lamp. (Who doesn’t love a lava lamp? Not this fully paid up B52s fan, I can assure you).
A dish of seashells. (D’oh! Missed the memo again).
Framed autographs (yep, got one of those too).
Talk about random. And there’s more; much more. It appears I should have jettisoned my giant pin boards at least twenty years ago, along with my magnifying mirror, stuffed animals, coloured pens, fairy lights, frameless posters, cheap mismatched silverware, decorations based on cartoon characters, mismatched towels, striped wallpaper, tassels, and elaborate keychains. (They’d have a blue fit if they knew that one of my keychains has both a twiddly fake key and a tassel on it). In fact the entire website is little more than an endless litany of stuff you should feel ashamed about owning, wearing, and in some cases, even saying. Like I totes can’t say “totes” – me, a writer, who loves slang so much she has at least a bookshelf-and-a-half dedicated to it. I also can’t say: “OMG”, “humblebrag”, “talk to the hand”, “fauxpology”, “sorry not sorry”, “I can’t even”, “as if”, “sus”, (a term in common UK parlance among people of all age groups for the duration of my lifetime), “ship”, (fuck you; Spuffy forever), and…wait for it…”adulting”, even though I plainly know a good deal more about doing it than the embarrassingly embarassable twelve year old ninny who probably wrote the article.
And still on the subjects of lists that give me the right royal pip, there’s thelist.com.
“If you are familiar with Dr Martens, you are too old to wear them.”
I’m sorry, what now?!
“We know those Crocs and orthopaedic shoes are super comfy, but they're not doing you any favours. There's something to be said for smart, sensible footwear, but you don't have to sacrifice your style and give away your age just to save yourself a few blisters”.
Unless of course you suffer with any kind of condition that dictates you have to wear fugly orthopaedic footwear, as numerous older people do. And blisters are the least of my problems, bub. Believe me the bunting and party hats come out when I can persuade anything approaching normal-looking footwear to accommodate my orthotics. Doc Martens are one of the precious few options available to me. I am, incidentally, feeling especially “salty” (another word my age precludes me from using), about this right now as, having discovered I can sometimes wear sandals with a moulded orthotic-like sole, these Office sandals...
...which I genuinely love and desperately wanted to rock this summer, damn near crippled me when I tried them on.
For all the blather about older women being able to cast off the shackles of convention and wear what we please, (or whatever the expert du jour thinks is within reason), the same unspoken assumptions that prevail in mainstream ladymedia are present in spades on these websites. Nobody reading could possibly be fat, or if they are they’re assumed to be fighting their poor beleaguered bodies unto death. The only chub ever alluded to, (albeit soto voce), is “middle aged spread”, but only the vestigial kind that can be miraculously rendered invisible by the belting of an “unflattering” oversized garment in the middle.
“Show off your curves by adding a cute belt to that dress or coat. It will accentuate your shape and let you still wear those comfortable items in your wardrobe without looking like you're wearing a muumuu.”
Never mind that I quite like wearing a muumuu, far from showing off my curves, belting any of my coats would make me look like the Albert Hall, which while undoubtably a Look, is not one I’m after.
“Balance is important when it comes to crafting a stylish look. Wearing oversized clothing disrupts that delicate equilibrium and unintentionally ages you.”
What. Ever.
The hectoring never lets up.
“There really is no such thing as grown up glitter when it comes to apparel, so it's best to accept that fact and avoid glittery tops, bottoms, and everything else!”
“Dressing like the '80s or '90s can be fun for a party, but being attached to a trend from your youth can look tired and disconnected and therefore can make one age themselves.”
“Large prints, especially on a tight clothing item like leggings, are an avoid-at-all-costs look. They are just too loud and aren't a piece that helps you look your best”
Among the ten items everyday.health.com bans me from wearing on account of my encroaching dotage are “too trendy denim”. Apparently I’m “not in my element” with it so my hard work was all for nought. Also verboten are oversized, overly decorated hobo bags, cheap unflattering underwear; (fat chance of finding cheap underwear in plus-sizes anyway though apparently I should do like the Sainted Gwyneth and wear Spanx under everything. Because she totally needs to and I so enjoy colic); and…wait for it…wait for it...
...“loud accessories”. This includes, horror of horrors, plastic earrings, which apparently I forfeited the right to wear at 35. (Do they count vintage phenolic, bakelite, and lucite as plastic I wonder? Because if enough rich older women get dissuaded from wearing it I might actually be able to afford some instead of faking it). Instead I’m exhorted to make a...
“Stunning Substitute: think quality and quantity. Limit yourself to one funky accessory per outfit – as long as it’s well-made. Think a leopard-print scarf, thin silver bangles or a gold clutch to dress up nice jeans and a simple top”.
Yeah, no. And, by the way here’s a picture of Helen Mirren in quite the loudest plastic necklace I’ve ever seen which, as you can plainly see, ages her terribly.
*snort*
Which brings me neatly to the subject of role models. Dame Helen comes up a lot. Here’s Harper’s Bazaar with some more:
“Pay close attention to the way women like Robin Wright, Julianne Moore, and Kristin Scott Thomas dress. And revel in the moment when you can justify shopping for labels like Céline, Calvin Klein, Jil Sander, and the Row — because not all sweaters are created equal. The Perfect Length (not too long, not Rihanna short), with the just-tantalizing-enough neckline, is more than worth the extra zeros”.
Wow. So much nope to pick apart in just three sentences!
Firstly, while I’m sure they’re all perfectly charming, I look nothing at all like any of these women, so why would I aspire to their style? Secondly, they have allllllll the extra zeros in their bank accounts while I have zero zeros. Thirdly, even if I could afford any of those labels, (a sweater from The Row costs well over a thousand quid by the way), why the love of little fluffy kittens would anyone think I want to dress like this?
I mean I know I like an oversized garment but I’m good with Monki, thanks. If that lot doesn’t say, “this was the only shit I could find to fit me”, I don’t know what does. And quite what the tiny, terminally haggard looking Olsen twins, who dreamed up the wretched label, would look like in any of this eye-bleedingly expensive folderol I shudder to think. You’d probably need to send in the fire brigade to find them in all that fabric, poor loves.
At its root shaming-as-entertainment is a tool for capitalism, both simple and complex. Feel mortified for owning something age inappropriate? Buy something new and more grown up, preferably at enormous expense. Or, if pay day’s too far off, invest in some garbage gossip rag and bitch about the state of those richer and more famous than you are. It’ll make you feel great for all of five minutes, then you can fill the emptiness that follows in its wake with some cheap fast fashion or cake. Even though cake is naughty and unclean and fast fashion is killing the environment; but hey that’s what diet books (kerching!) and gym memberships (kerching!) and ethical fashion, (with a cut-off size of 16), are for, right?
Ironically, in yet another catalogue of grievous mistakes to make once you’re over forty, bestlifemyarse.com includes “neglecting your mental health” and “basing yourself-worth on what other people think”. But how the hell are women expected to do that under a constant barrage of opprobrium, not least since also included in the aforementioned list is “avoiding the scale”?
Tumblr, I put it to you that people are just as likely to buy stuff if they’re feeling good about themselves than if they’re feeling shite. I fucking love stuff but there has to be an alternative way to sell it that’s less damaging to our sanity and self esteem. That’s in part why fat women created their own media. But, the more it edges into the mainstream, the more it it puts the wind up advertisers and those who rely on their sponsorship. So now our message – the one about self acceptance and being able to live unrepentantly in the bodies we have – has been appropriated, de-fanged, and rebranded as “Body Positivity”, an ersatz movement intended to reassure average-sized women fretful they might be a little bit fat, with the added proviso, “as long as you’re healthy”, (i.e not fat). And while the net abounds with token examples of older lady bloggers granted the status of fashion maven, they’re all slender as reeds, and most of them are ex-models. Big fucking whoop. Meanwhile anyone of any age who is objectively fat is “promoting obesity” simply by expressing our personal style in public.
My collection of shells incidentally, includes some my mum brought me back from the Channel Islands when I was a child; a conch a friend dove for in the Virgin Islands and presented me for my 19th birthday; several beauties that held pride of place in a late family friend’s study for decades; an abalone shell from New Zealand plucked from the beach by my Kiwi pal Di; a sand dollar from Ocean Beach in San Francisco given to me by my dear friend Jude who died of secondary breast cancer a few months before Jane did; some pebbles gathered with my friend Lesley in literal sub-zero temperatures on a completely deserted beach one not-so-flaming June up north, both of us in hysterics over the utter bleakness of it all, and a load more shells from the Pembrokeshire coast contributed by my friend Steve’s departed mum back in the 1980s. Even the bowl itself was given to me by Karen, whose parents found it in the attic of their new house and thought I might like it. It’s a veritable a lifetime in shells; a celebration of love and friendship spanning decades. In short it has meaning, which is a damned sight more than you can say for any of these wretched lists.
Rise above the buzzkill, Tumblr.
#What I'm wearing#Plus size style#Fatshion#OOTDs#Ageism#Sizeism#Got my ranty pants on#Fuck fashion rules#Fuck interior design rules too
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
17 Advice That You Must Listen Before Embarking On Sunflower Canvas Art | sunflower canvas art
Street art is accepting a moment. While galleries are closed, bare cities beyond the UK action an alluring canvas for creatives.
Leonid Afremov, oil on canvas, palette knife, buy original .. | sunflower canvas art
They acrylic a able and political picture, absorption the hope, joy and affliction of the COVID-19 crisis.
“Ultimately it’s art with a message,” London artisan Atila told Sky News.
Be still and know that I am God psalm 17:17 DIY sunflower canvas .. | sunflower canvas art
“I’m a account painter and I like adulatory bodies through my art, but this is like a appropriate acknowledge you to the NHS heroes.”
Standing in advanced of his mural in south London, which appearance a assistant in a face mask, he said the artery is like a “public gallery”.
US $17.17 17% OFF|No Frame 17 Panels Modern Home Decoration Pictures Sunflower Canvas Painting for Bedroom Decorative Wall Art Posters and .. | sunflower canvas art
He said that although some bodies catechism whether the artery art is legal, best of the time he gets a absolute response.
“Most bodies don’t see the action of art actuality created with aerosol paint,” he continued. “Something of this scale, art with a message, [people] stop, accept a chat, booty photos, and that completes the action for me.”
Sunflowers by Stephen B Whatley on show in London | sunflower canvas art
Street artisan Nathan Bowen’s afflatus has additionally been a admiration to acrylic a adulation letter of sorts to frontline workers.
The ambulance he has corrective in Shoreditch is “close to my heart”, he said, because his brother’s accomplice is a frontline bloom worker.
Details about Van Gogh Painting – Sunflower – Canvas Wall Art Picture Print – 17″ x 17″ – sunflower canvas art | sunflower canvas art
:: Listen to the Backstage podcast on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Spotify, Spreaker
“I anticipate artery art is so important appropriate now because bodies are aloof activity arcade to Tesco or on their way to assignment and all they are seeing is asleep boards. Artery art raises the vibe,” he added.
Sunflower Canvas Print – sunflower canvas art | sunflower canvas art
17 Advice That You Must Listen Before Embarking On Sunflower Canvas Art | sunflower canvas art – sunflower canvas art
| Welcome to be able to my own blog site, in this time I’m going to explain to you concerning keyword. Now, this can be the primary impression:
Sunflower Yellow & Red – Farm Garden Floral Flower Canvas .. | sunflower canvas art
Why don’t you consider impression earlier mentioned? can be which wonderful???. if you feel consequently, I’l t provide you with many image once again underneath:
So, if you desire to obtain all of these outstanding shots regarding (17 Advice That You Must Listen Before Embarking On Sunflower Canvas Art | sunflower canvas art), simply click save button to save the pics in your laptop. There’re ready for obtain, if you like and want to take it, simply click save badge on the page, and it’ll be instantly downloaded to your desktop computer.} At last if you need to grab new and the recent picture related with (17 Advice That You Must Listen Before Embarking On Sunflower Canvas Art | sunflower canvas art), please follow us on google plus or save this site, we try our best to provide daily update with fresh and new pics. Hope you like staying right here. For most upgrades and latest news about (17 Advice That You Must Listen Before Embarking On Sunflower Canvas Art | sunflower canvas art) graphics, please kindly follow us on tweets, path, Instagram and google plus, or you mark this page on bookmark area, We attempt to give you up-date regularly with all new and fresh pictures, love your exploring, and find the right for you.
Here you are at our site, articleabove (17 Advice That You Must Listen Before Embarking On Sunflower Canvas Art | sunflower canvas art) published . Nowadays we’re delighted to declare that we have discovered an incrediblyinteresting nicheto be reviewed, namely (17 Advice That You Must Listen Before Embarking On Sunflower Canvas Art | sunflower canvas art) Many people trying to find info about(17 Advice That You Must Listen Before Embarking On Sunflower Canvas Art | sunflower canvas art) and of course one of them is you, is not it?
US $17.17 17% OFF|Sunflower Wall Art Canvas Painting Yellow Petals art Nordic Posters And Prints Watercolor Wall Pictures For Living Room .. | sunflower canvas art
Sunflower Wall Art | Redbubble – sunflower canvas art | sunflower canvas art
Wall Canvas Art Print of Sunflower Fields at Sunset Australia – sunflower canvas art | sunflower canvas art
Sunflowers Original Oil painting by chrisbrandley on Etsy .. | sunflower canvas art
Darren Gygi Sunflower Painting 9" X 9" Canvas Giclee Print .. | sunflower canvas art
US $17.17 17% OFF|Flower Canvas Painting Art Posters and Prints Sunflower Wall Art Nordic Pictures for Living Room Decoration Home Decor .. | sunflower canvas art
Beautiful Sunflowers Blooming on The Field Growing Sunflower – Canvas Art Wall Decor – 17″ x 17″ – sunflower canvas art | sunflower canvas art
17PCS Frameless Oil Painting Sunflower Canvas Modern Wall Art Home Decoration – sunflower canvas art | sunflower canvas art
Sunflower embellished canvas giclee Sunflower wall art – sunflower canvas art | sunflower canvas art
Nel's Everyday Painting: 6/16/13 – 6/23/13 – sunflower canvas art | sunflower canvas art
The post 17 Advice That You Must Listen Before Embarking On Sunflower Canvas Art | sunflower canvas art appeared first on Wallpaper Painting.
from Wallpaper Painting https://www.bleumultimedia.com/17-advice-that-you-must-listen-before-embarking-on-sunflower-canvas-art-sunflower-canvas-art/
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
skeleton-smoke
*:･°♡*:･ﾟ
commonotaku
'*•.¸♡ Amenity ♡¸.•*'
rleixh
R
el-hectorio
violence solves everything
