#Its time for running swinging sliding its time to bounce and seek and hide its time for playing laughing climbing

[musicals-and-mushrooms]

everyone always asks how are you? And never

HEY WHATCHA DOING EVERYBODYS MOVING ITS TIME FOR LITTLE LUNCH!!!!

[arcade-chaos]

Maybe I should drabble while laying in bed more...

The door was a bit loud than you expected, what was supposed to be a subtle entrance instead echoed around the play structures and caused a stir amounts the kids sitting around the attendant. He seemed the most jumpy about it, looking at you and stuttering through something before going quiet and still, leg up and away like he planned to run if you got too close.

"Sorry! Sorry, I got a little lost on the way in, don't mind me." You tried to soothe, confused when he stayed perfectly still. He jumped when a kid hopped up to chase after another, but instead of coming over to reprimand you for your timing skills or question why you were there he just shooed the kids away to find a new game. Maybe he just sent a notification to management, that would be a great start to your first day.

The kids didn't seem to mind that you were knew, any who came over were quick to ask every important kid question in their book:

"what's your name?"

"what's your favorite color?"

"do you have a pet?"

"can you bring it in to work?"

"do you want to play house with us?

"are there games on your phone?"

Each time you answered and went to chat a bit more the sunny themed bot would swoop in and redirect them back towards the slide or some other playmate. You hoped he was just being nice, trying to give you time to settle into the desk and look over the schedules and allergy lists, but the way he stared at you made you nervous.

You could tell he was staring too, anytime your eyes so much as grazed him he would flinch and jump, swinging into motion even if he was already in the middle of something else. Maybe he didn't like strangers in the daycare? Had you really gone and messed something up so terribly to make him afraid?

The shift was slow without much to do, maybe if you stayed behind the desk and didn't bother him he would come to you and start liking you more. It made everything so much more boring though, the most interesting part of the day was when you managed to cut your finger on a kids paper pal. Sun didn't take well to the sight of blood, however minuscule. You walked back out of the restroom to find him scraping the floors with a sponge, leaving patches of foam pale as he tore it up to get out the red stain in the floor.

"Do you want me to help you?" You tried to sound gentle, but he was still so skittish, scrambling away from you like you were on fire.

"No!! No no no friend it's fine! Just go back to what you were doing and everything will be okay!"

"Okay... It's um, it's nice to meet you?" He nodded, squeezing his arms while he stole a few glances at the floor. It looked perfectly clean you your eyes, but maybe that was just the fault of being human.

The more the kids piled out the more shaky he seemed to grow, it was hard to lead games of tag with so few players left, and hide and go seek went out the window as soon as another gaggle of mothers walked in. It took you a moment to realize the playroom was empty, not a single squeaky shoe or snickering soul to be found.

"Mr.Sun? I think all the kids are gone now!" Crickets. Well not crickets, the daycare loop, but it had long become background noise. "I'm gonna start cleaning up the craft tables, okay?"

With no reprimanding noises you started to shovel bits of paper and googly eyes into the bins, taking care to set aside any art or left behind pal for kids who might want them tomorrow. One of them caught your eye, a splash of red on its little paper cheek despite the kids attempt to cover it up with cheap white paint. It looked like the kind of craft to cut you too, with dark eyes and a thin smile that was glued on ever so crooked. It's floppy ears bounced as you set it on the pile, apparently your turn to jump as Sun seemingly materialized behind you.

"Son of a- fuuun. Cheezits you scared me dude!"

"Sorry! Sorry friend... I didn't mean to." He pulled at one of his rays, making his head swivel sharply to the side.

"No biggie. You'd think I'd be able to see you coming with all those bells." Your attempt at a joke was met with more quiet, Sun shifting and whispering something to himself. "I um... Did I... Do something wrong?" That seemed to get him out of his inner monologue, his hands flying up to shake.

"No! No no, you didn't do anything at all!"

"Okay... Because if I did I'd apologize-" he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"No no no no, you're too nice to me why are you being so nice?? After everything you should be mad! You shouldn't even be here!" You frowned, stepping a little closer to the whining animatronic. Before you could think better of it your hands were on his wrists, pulling them away from his face.

"Hey, it's okay. I forgive you."

"No, no no no-"

"Shh, you were just nervous, it happens to everyone! We can try again tomorrow if you like." He snapped up, his head bobbing as he looked you over.

"Yes! Yes yes tomorrow! There will be a tomorrow and everything will be okay this time!"

"that's the spirit-"

"but you have to go now! Can't be here this time, not again."

"Again? Wait Sun-" you yelped as he began to push, practically scooping you up and towards the doors. "I have to finish cleaning first!"

"no time no time!"

"at least let me get my bag-"

"you can get it when there's a tomorrow!"

"at least tell me what I did wrong-" he paused, still holding you in the air like a naughty ferret as he swayed. "Sun-"

"you're too nice to us, you know that?"

"Huh?" Sun slowly lowered you, turning you to face him as he crouched down to your level.

"if you remembered, you wouldn't be so nice. Would you."

"I don't understand-" he groaned, grabbing the edge of his ray again, the metal bending in his grip.

"Why don't you remember, are you teasing us? You have to remember, you have to leave-"

"Sun, you're hurting yourself. I'm not gonna leave until you tell me what's wrong!"

"you're too stubborn, you need to go before it happens again. It's going to happen again right?"

"What-" he grabbed you suddenly, his grip strong enough to remind you he wasnt just a lanky coworker.

"we killed you."

"What?" It was all you could manage, his face inching closer as his grip stuttered on your shoulder.

"the lights went off, and he killed you. I saw it. I saw all of it." Leaving the daycare was staring to sound pretty good actually.

"Sun-"

"but you don't remember. Because it didn't happen. Because I haven't done it yet, but I will. It's still today and you're still alive." You tried to pull back, but his grip made you stumble.

"I'm going to leave."

"good! Good good good... Tomorrow you'll come back right? You'll show me I didn't do it?"

"sure sun, just let go."

"promise me." He squeezed, making your knees buckle. "Promise you'll come back when it's tomorrow."

"Ow, ow, I promise, sun please-" he flinched, finally releasing you to the cool embrace of the foam floor. He hovered still, tilting and shifting around you while making no move to help you back up.

"I'm sorry friend." You didn't respond, instead pulling yourself up to stumble away from the anxious bot who stayed put in the center of the room. He didn't move, but you couldn't take your eyes off him, afraid if you did his worst fears would come true. But you didn't have to take your eyes off him.

The lights went out anyways.

AU where the DCA kills y/n because of the virus, but you come back with no memories of that happening whatsoever. You just show up to work the next day thinking it's weird how you don't remember going home last night while Sun tries not to drop the biggest "What the fuck" in front of the kids

[brownandblackpearls]

🦇𝒯he  𝒱isitor (Alucard Tepes x BlackReader)

 PART 1 SUMMARY:

While trying to escape the clutches of criminals and cutthroats, you stumble across a castle beyond imagination. The corpses staked at the front aren’t enough to keep you out. But after entering, you begin to wonder what you got yourself into, and what the castle is hiding within its walls...

─── Alucard x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── TW// slight gore, general mentions of rapists// Fantasy, vampires, hurt/comfort, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, magic user, cute bats, gardening, cooking, cottagecore MC, castlecore Alucard.

☾ next.

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You fight through the underbrush of the woods, hurrying as quickly as your feet will allow.

They’re on your trail.

You’ve been evading these criminals from the last town you’d passed through, but they just keep stalking after you. They’d been all too eager to see a lone, beautiful woman traveling with no companions, no guides, and no guardians. 

They had tried and failed to corner you alone several times in the town and on the roads, but you haven’t made it this far on your own without some learned skills. A finger-bolt of lightning at one’s eye, a fire-heated palm tight on another’s wrist, swings of sharp dagger at all of their torsos, their throats. 

Anything and everything to escape. It’s not your first sticky situation, and it probably won’t be your last.

You know how to be quiet. How to hide. And when it comes down to it, you know how to swindle and how to fight, if need be. You try not to resort to that, not out of compassion or concern for the heathens that try to best you...no. You just know that you’re not as skilled as some of the rigorously trained ex-militia and rogue bandits that prey on loners in towns and off the roads.

You don’t know exactly what they want. A woman to toss around between themselves and torture before they descend on you like wolves? A new girl to sell on the black market? A pretty decoy to get carts and wagons to stop on the roads, allowing them to abush, raid, rape and kill as they please?

Whatever it is that they want, you’re not giving it to them.

‘They’ll have to catch me, first.’

You duck and dodge branches, bobbing and weaving through the trees before the forest finally begins to clear. You keep your hand on your dagger’s hilt, just in case.

Who knows what hides in the woods?

Finally, you come to a clearing run through by a small creek. The dense woods have seemed to disperse here, and now all that you can spy are peaceful glens and swaying flowers. Deer jump away through the grass, hares run into their holes, and fish shine from the stream. 

It feels…safe.

But you’re not one to be foolish, and so you continue on. Hoisting your basket closer, you can’t help but spy a garden as you pass through the glen.

Fat tomatoes hang on vine, bright orange carrot tops sprout from the soil, green onions, zucchini, berries and fruits….

…Someone has made a garden here. Hopefully if they’re the gardening sort, then they’re the safe sort. You quickly fill your basket with a few items, tuck some coins hidden near the stalks in apology for your ransacking, and carry on.

Finally, the glen ends, the forest stops entirely, and you stumble upon something entirely unexpected.

'A castle...? Out here in the middle of nowhere...?’

A grand, gothic castle of castles, spirals up towards the clouds in the sky. You gaze up at it in awe, sure that there is nothing else in the world quite so large or so spectacular. You’re certain that had the woods not been so oppressive and thick on the way in here, so wide and strenuous, that you would’ve spotted the castle for what it was miles and miles and miles ago.

You whistle low, impressed as you step forward. You take only a few steps before you stop.

A ripple in the wind draws your eye.

Two barely clothed bodies impaled on stakes tower before you, death etched onto their faces. The spikes go through them, hidden by the soiled shifts they wear and rising high up and out through their mouths. It is a grisly sight indeed.  Unfortunately, you’re no stranger to ‘grisly’ in these lands.

You move slower, more carefully than before.

Assessing the bodies, the blood is long dried on the stakes and the petrified flesh. Most of the meat is gone, pecked away by crows most likely, and the flesh that remains is hard and dried out. 

You have dealt with your fair share of monsters, but you’re not too sure you want to risk running into the one who did this. It was done with malice, strength, and a raw fury. A nonchalance for human life, it seems. Much like the same nonchalance shared by the evil men you run from.

You hear faint voices call from the trees. 

They’ve tracked you. And they’re coming closer.

“We can’t come here. It’s cursed ground. Don’t you know who this castle used to belong to?”

“Yeah, and they’re dead. No one’s seen em’ for ages. But I see little footsteps. Have a feeling the lass went this way.”

You freeze, glancing between the bodies, the huge castle door before you, and the mouth of the forest.

It’s the castle and its possible hidden horrors, or the men on your trail.

“Skin like ebony, that one. Pretty mouth, doe eyes. She’d sell for a pretty penny.. We wouldn’t have to raid for months.”

“…Or we could keep her to warm the cold nights.”

Your mind races, trying to choose. 

You could fight the men, still. But there are many of them, and just one of you. Your magic is somewhat abysmal without knowledge to guide you, and your dagger won’t measure up to prove the little sword skills you do possess. Your words will probably not get you out of this one, either. Not this time.

“I’d rather make her scream.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you Macon? But you did that to the last one, and now we’re out here hunting a new lass instead of enjoying the old one.”

‘That’s it,’ you decide.

The castle it is.

You sprint away from the woods as fast as your billowing cloak and dress will allow, ignoring the foul smell of decay and passing between the bodies. You feel as though you’ve irrevocably crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed, a decision made that can’t be taken back.

You will live with it, you decide. Better that, than capture.

Racing to the front of the grand doors, larger than the largest buildings you’ve witnessed in life before this day, you bang raptly against the wood and stone.

For a moment, nothing happens and you feel as though you will be caught right at the footsteps of this castle.

Then, you hear a doldrum, a creak and whirring of machinery and mass movement. The door shifts open just slight enough for you to slide through, making a gigantic noise in it’s wake. 

Quick as wind, you push through and fall to the floor, turning to see the grand door begin to shut closed behind you. 

The men stand before the staked bodies, unwilling to pass them and watching you as the doors close you out of their sight.

“You’d be better off with us murderers and thieves, woman!” One shouts futilely. “For even our hearts aren’t as black as the monster’s in those walls!�� 

The door shuts him and the rest out. You harrumph and stand, wiping the dust off your dress and looking away.

Fuck him. And fuck his threats, and fuck his horrible little friends. Any black-hearted beasts you come across, you could handle well enough.

At least…that’s what you tell yourself to keep a brave face. Better that than nothing.

You look around.

The inside of the castle is larger than life, grand, and dark. Everything is clean and without dust as you would’ve expected from such a structure…an army couldn’t keep this clean…yet it feels unlived in.

For a moment, there is nothing but heavy, oppressive silence. You listen for a breath, a sound, but can hear nothing outside of your own increasing heartbeat.

You turn, looking to the top of the staircase.

Your eyes tell you there is nothing there, but your instincts tell you something else.

Suddenly, the lights of a thousand candles sweep on throughout the grand hall, illuminating a massive stone staircase and a figure standing at the top of it. You have very good sight, but the room is so large that you can barely make out the figure, even with the candlelight.

Nothing is said, the figure is motionless, and you begin to tremble. This must be the one who lives in this place…not an intruder or a vagrant. You don’t know how you know, but the figure is too large, too looming, and too confident even in its vagueness of detail for you to assume it to be anything other than the owner. 

The one who likely staked those unfortunate souls outside the walls.

You feel as if the mysterious figure is waiting for something, and you don’t know what to say. But something must be said.

Your voice is as steady as your fear will allow.

“My name is ———. I come from afar. I am…I am seeking refuge…if you will have me.”

“Refuge from the men outside.” 

The voice carries through the empty hall, lilting, low, and deadly. You hear hints of refinement in the speech but they are not enough to hide the white hot lethalness you sense underneath. A rage that you cannot even begin to place or name.

“Y-yes,” you stumble embarrassingly, affected, “from the men outside. They followed me here. I have nowhere to go.”

“And so you feel entitled to my protection.”

“No!’ You exclaim, shaking your head. You stopped expecting assistance from people long ago. The life of a lonely wanderer is just that...lonely. “I inconvenience you, and for that I apologize sincerely. Just…just refuge. I can be on my way after they depart.”

“To where...?” The disembodied voice says as calm as a pond at night, yet you feel the ripples that lie beneath.

“Nowhere,” you breathe.

“…And you come from?” The figure disappears like a mist, yet the voice remains.

“I…nowhere,” you gasp honestly, truly afraid now.

“Lies.” The voice spits viciously, sounding closer then far away, as if it’s bouncing around the space of the great hall.

“It’s t-true!” You insist, your trembling hands reeling in towards your chest in a futile attempt of protection from the unseen danger. “I hail from nowhere! I belong to nowhere! I have little. Just refuge, sir. A night, even!”

“I could grant you refuge,” the voice assumes, “or I could send you back out to those men and be bothered with none of you.”

“You wouldn’t,” you breathe, daring a chance to hope.

The voice chuckles humorlessly, dry as dead leaves.

“Perhaps,” it toys. “But I also wouldn’t allow a mysterious woman of mysterious origins to stay in my castle, learn of my ways, only to run back to the outside world and send a horde of farmhands sprinting over to slay me. Wouldn’t be the first time. No, I think I’ll keep you instead. Are you willing to make that bargain with the Devil?”

You pause, your mind blank. You search for an answer to reason with this...this...your thoughts race.

“Look, I know I’ve come into your abode unannounced and rather…rather rudely, making demands, but I must implore you—“

“—Answer me!” the voice barks, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

'That’s it.’

“You’re a prick, you know that?!” You blurt.

“…” You can hear the confusion in the empty air. “…Pardon?”

You push on, figuring that if you’re going to be staked by the unseen castle-owner or given up to the men outside, or toyed with any longer by any of this nonsense, that you may as well speak your mind one last time.

“You know good and goddamn well that I am not running into a fantastical, creepy castle of myth decorated by corpses on the front porch for the fun of it! As if I care or even believe some farmhands could handle much less defeat you when you can clearly impale full grown adults and work such a place as this—!”

“...”

“—And how dare you tease a woman scared out of her wits, can you even pretend to try to put yourself in my place?! Do you know how long I’ve been running from those idiots? If I had your strength I’d’ve staked them myself and added them to your lovely, little welcome collection as a visiting gift, because believe me, I’m sick of running from morons and monsters! I’m not above spilling blood! But as I said before, I possess little, and come from nothing, and journey towards nothing. From that, you can figure I can’t do much in terms of protecting myself besides running into large, spooky places and begging their arrogant owners for some rest—”

“.....”

“—So, I’d very much appreciate if you stopped toying with me and make your decision on whether you’re going to kill me, kick me out, or keep me, because I’m tired of trying to figure this all out by myself and I’m tired of the anticipation. So what’ll it be Mr. I-Like-to-Leave-Corpses-Outside-My-Castle-and-Harrass-Visitors?”

You huff after your rant, waiting.

The voice is silent for a long, long moment, before an accusing tone reverbs back to you.

“You’re the one who barged in—“

“—You’re the one who opened the door!” You return, throwing your hands out in frustration.

“I didn’t, the castle did.”

“Oh, well fuck me, then. I suppose I ought to thank the ‘castle’ and head back out to let those hoodlums try their worst. So long, strange sir! It was interesting, arguing with you.”

You turn on your heel, over this entire day, and knock at the door raptly. You tap your foot as you wait on the castle, arms crossed and dagger in your hand to strike the nearest hoodlum that likely awaited outside. What a day, you couldn’t believe this shit.

The machinery whirs once more and the door barely opens before a large, leather gloved hand reaches past your head and slams the towering door back, closing it shut. The strength the act takes is incomprehensible, you think. 

Inhuman, you realize.

The hairs at the back of your neck raise long after the presence behind you appears. You feel no breath on your neck, yet you know someone stands behind you. You can’t look away from the large, gloved hand on the door. You’re afraid to see exactly who stands behind you.

A man...? Or something else entirely….?

You try to speak but gasp instead, short and shocked.

Silence reigns before you get a hold of yourself and choke something out.

“Y-y-you’ve made your decision then…I presume...?” You stammer into a squeaking volume, your anger long gone and replaced by fear once again.

“Don’t make me regret it…” The voice sneers, close enough for the breath of it to shift your hair and the baritone to reverb over your skin. A chill runs up your back and you can do little to hide it. You feel as though the figure behind you is impossibly tall, imperceptibly assessing, and spying every single thing you do. 

You feel the presence lean in over your shoulder, a mouth right next to your ear.

“…or you will regret it, visitor. That, I can promise.”

You gulp loudly, nodding your assent without turning around. You feel frozen to the spot. The hand withdraws and your shoulders unclench only a fraction. You feel as if a predator had been standing behind you, and has decided not to destroy you...for the moment.

You wonder if you are right, and why your cheeks suddenly feel so hot when your heart is beating so fast in terror...?

“I’m going to clean the trash off of my porch,” the voice states eerily. “Don’t touch anything until I return.”

As quick as a blink, the presence disappears entirely. 

You finally turn around, alone and confused.

There is nothing but the large castle hall, looking back at you.

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AN: Do not under any circumstances copy, repost, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

☾ next. 

☾ check my blog for more imagines.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “A bucket.”

I wrote this little fluff piece this morning because I didn’t have the energy to write anything else. Still fighting with my motivation right now, but I hope you all like it :)

The air smelled like fall, wet dirt, a chill, and the unmistakable tang of mouldering leaves raked into large yellowing piles. The sky overhead was blue, and it was just beginning to warm as the sun peaked higher into the sky.  Standing on the sidewalk, he stared down the street of his childhood watching orange and yellow leaves fall to the pavement. In the distance he could hear the shouting of children, and watched decorative skeletons clatter and blow in a light wind.

A soft crunching noise jogged him from his musings, and he turned to see Sunny contemplatively staring at a yellowed leaf, only to watch her pop it into her mouth and crunch on it like it was a potato chip.

He frowned at her and she turned to look at him, “What?”

“Seriously?”

“What do you mean, Seriously?”

“Gonna go ahead and eat the fall ambiance?”

She frowned at him,” The trees aren’t using them anymore, and I don’t see you eating them.” He just shook his head at her, and turned to walk up the front steps and onto the porch. She paused to stare at the cluster of pumpkins on the front steps, and the grizzly faces that were carved into them. His father was a master at pumpkin carving, evidenced by the fact that Sunny made, “What the hell.” she turned to look at Adam and he shrugged.

“What are those?”

“Pumpkins/”

“That does not answer my question.”

“THey are a type of squash or gourd or…. Or something. People grow and eat them most of the time, but it is traditional, in october to carve scary faces on them for fun. Maybe mom has another one lying around and will let you try it out.”

“But why?”

“Back in the day people thought that doing this would help to fend off evil spirits, but now it is more of a contest to flex who is the most artistic. Dad wins every year.”

They stepped onto the porch where fallen leaves were still clinging wetly to the front steps and knocked.

“It’s open!” Came the voice from inside 

The two of them slipped in, Adam taking off his shoes and Sunny wiping her damp feet on the entrance rug.

They walked into the living room to find his mother, Martha sitting on the floor at the center of an explosion of pictures, and a couple of open binders.

Adam and Sunny walked in very carefully stepping over the pictures.

“Sorting the photo album again?” “Again, the last time I did this was almost ten years ago.” 

Adam wantered closer to his mother and Sunny curiously examined some of the photos, until one caught her eye.

A very tiny, chubby human barely able to stand on his own, and with bright green eyes.

She picked up the picture gingerly in one hand, “Awww is this you? You and your fat little cheeks.”

Adam turned, and Sunny held up the picture. Adam blushed and Martha laughed, Sunny looked at the next picture in the line, which seemed to be paired to the first, but now the small boy had a large bucket on his head, his feet sticking out from underneath. The bucket had holes in the side.

“What are you doing.”

Martha laughed again, “We were playing hide and seek.” Adam was still blushing madly as she continued, “He grew into his intelligence late in life.”

***

Martha walked slowly from the back room into the living room, “Ready or not here I come.”

The house was mostly quiet. The rest of her brood was out with their father on a hike for the day, but their littlest had woken up with a slight cough so she had decided to keep him home. He had spent the first half of the day lethargic, but around lunch time after some strawberries he had perked up and become  his usual exhausting self.

“Come out come out. I’m gonna get you.”

It was the giggling that gave him away, but when she turned to look she paused, sagged a bit and rolled her eyes covering her smile and laugh with a hand. The living room was completely clean, aside from a round laundry basket sitting dead in the middle, and two chubby little legs sticking out from under it. Not to mention that since it was a laundry basket it had holes in the side, and she could see him looking at her from inside.

She discreetly took a picture and quietly to herself Lord child i hope you grow into your brains soon

But instead of calling him out on his hiding spot she wandered around the room hands on hips, “Now where could he have gone…. Could he be under here?”

Giggling 

She kept up the pretence for the longest time until he seemed to have gotten tired of her charade. She heard the bucket tip over and he ran over on his stubby little legs grabbing her by the leg.

She acted surprised, “OH there you are!. I have been looking ALL over.”

He grinned and hugged her leg again.

She reached down and picked him up and he rested his head against her shoulder.

That was another thing about her youngest. He was VERY VERY cuddly, and she idly wondered what that would translate to when he got older. She patted his back and tried to fix his unruly blond hair which stuck up from all sides of his head, but it was no use, she sighed and gave up.

Oh well, she tried her best.

***

“You know honestly sometimes he is STILL as dumb as a pile of bricks.” Sunny mused setting the picture back down.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck, “I got my masters in aviation and orbital physics.””

“And yet who is the one who insists on putting strange alien plants in his mouth without knowing i they are safe or not.”

Martha frowned at her youngest.

He frowned back, “That is hardly fair, you eat them.”

“I also eat leaves, doesn’t mean you can too.”

She sifted through the pictures and barked a laugh at one that caught her eye, she picked it up, what are you doing. She turned the picture around, and Adam blushed madly. Martha laughed, “Oh yeah, we had to call the fire department for that one.”

“No, no no we are not going to be telling that story.”

A firefighter and a cop framed either side of the picture both giving exaggerated thumbs up with a young boy\ mabe seven or eight in the background stuck, backside first in a bucket of some sort, looking very embarrassed.

Martha grinned, “I think you were seven or eight maybe.”

“IT was Jeromy’s fault.”

****

“I dare you.”

The four boys and one girl stood  at the top of the hill staring down.

Maya, who was fifteen years old, older by five years than Jeremy who was eleven, frowned down the hill, “What if he runs into one of those trees.”

“He's got a thick skull, he’ll be ok.” Thomas said ruffling Adam’s hair viciously so the younger boy squirmed protested and ducked away. Adam was a very small boy, shorter than average and very thin. His clothes always seemed too big, his shirts baggy, and the shorts he was wearing were forced to stay on only by the belt his father had had to poke three more holes into to make it fit.

Even his sneakers seemed too big flopping around on his feet with floppy untied laces. 

“Who is even going to fit in that?” David asked.

Arguably the smartest of the three brothers, it hadn’t occurred to the others that none of them would fit.

That’s when all their heads turned to look at Adam.

Adam frowned, “But I don’t want to.”

“Chiken.” Thomas said 

“Come on your the only one small enough.” Jeremy urged.

“I see your chances of dying as very low, “ David interjected helpfully.

Maya tossed her braid back over one shoulder, “We should at least put some padding down at the bottom. Because if he gets hurt mom will kill me.”

Maya was technically supposed to be babysitting them, and keeping them out of trouble. But as was common with their family, she was not immune to the pull of a hair brained idea especially not when she was just to curious to see how it turned out.

Adam stomped his foot, “But you guys ALWAYS make me do it.”

“Because the buckets are ALWAYS too small for us, “Come on don’t be a chicken.”

Adam sighed and walked over to the barrel. He tired crawling inside it backwards, and when that didn’t work he attempted to go in face first, but every time he was just to tall.

He shook his head, “Too small.”

David looked at him very thoughtfully, and then an idea seemed to jump into his head.

“Not if we fold you in half.”

Adam frowned at him.

“Come on, hold the barrel upright.” The other boys did as told, while David instructed Adam to sit inside butt first.

Adam frowned, “But that doesn’t sound very comfortable, and how am I going to get out.”

“We will tip you out, don’t worry.”

Adam frowned but then allowed himself to slide down into the barrel. It was immediately very uncomfortable.

He wanted to tell them to pull him out but by that time he had been tipped over onto his side, “Ready?”

“No.”

They ignored him.

Adam was near panicking now, it wasn’t exactly easy to breathe.

“Three, two, one.”

And then the world was spinning around him. He rocked and bounced and spun so fast his eyes rolled inside his head. He screamed but the scream was cut off as he slammed painfully into something.

Dazed and sure he was going to vomit, he heard voices.

“Oh no, Adam!”

“Adam are you ok!”

Footsteps raced down the hill.

“Oh no we killed him!”

“Shut up He’s still alive, look.” Something kicked his foot, and he groaned.

He’s still breathing.

“Let him out.”

Something tugged on his feet. But it only managed to pull him and the barrel with it.

“Here you guys hold the bucket and we will pull him out.

Wat ensued was a horrible tug of war on his legs and on the bucket neither of which seemed to want to let go.

“STOP!”

They dropped his legs.

“Um, what if we tipped the bucket upside down?”

“Ok.”

The four of them tried really hard, and at one point almost succeeded until someone’s hand slipped and Adam crashed into the ground very painfully. He was near panic now, “Guys! Get me out of here.”

David patted his foot, “Its ok, ill get you out, ‘we just need science.”

Science turned out to be a  shoddy pulley system that went over the swing set and was designed to let them lift the bucket by way of rope and shake Adam out onto the ground.

The problem was the rope kept slipping off the bucket.

“Oh… no.”

A car rolled over gravel.

“Oh no, dad’s home.”

They heard a car door slammed shut, and Adam felt as the others hurriedly rolled him behind the swingset.

A door opened and the jangle of keys followed their father around the side of the house.

“There you all are, glad to see everyone is still in one piece, you didn’t burn the house down.”

“Nope.”

“Nope.”

There was sudden silence, “Where is Adam.”

“Uh, he…. He is us, around here somewhere.” Jeremy had always been bad at lying 

Their father turned his gaze on Maya, “Maya what is going on.”

“Uh…. nothing dad, we….”

“Don’t even try it….”

She sagged a bit, “We got Adam stuck in a barrel.”

There was a moment of silence, he heard the shifting of footsteps, “You got Adam stuck in a-” The light filtering into the barrel was cut off and he saw the silhouette of his father’s head, “Huh, you weren’t kidding. You are okay in their kiddo.”

His muffled reply came.

“Yeah…. I guess.”

Their dad grabbed the barrel by one end, tipped it over and shook Adam a few times. WHen nothing happened he gently set him back down, “Huh.”

“I hold and you pull his feet, “” They tried again but it didn’t work the second time either.

“Well, I have some tools in the garage.”

Adam began to panic as he thought of his dad's circular table saw.

“NO!”

“Ok ok.”

He heard his dad quiet for a minute and then, “Hey Joe, yeah this is Jim Vir….. doing good, and you, how about the family….. Glad to hear it….. Yeah anyway, my kids got my youngest boy stuck in a barrel like the geniuses they are, and I can’t seem to get him out. You want to send me a firefighter or two with something that can help….. Yeah thanks joe.”

Adam was relieved.

Of course as it turned out it was a slow day at both the police department AND the fire station, so what came rolling up was a motorcade of emergency vehicles. Adam was so embarrassed he wished he could melt through the barrel and into the ground as a group of cops and firefighters walked over to peer down at him from above.

“That looks comfortable.”

“How are you doing there son?”

There barrel was tipped back over, and he even saw his father sna a few pictures as the firefighters and police went to work surrounding the barrel. Of course since the entire towns emergency crew were here that drew curious neighbors who couldn’t help but laugh along with Jim at the antics of his children.

The wors part is when Martha showed up, and ran from the car scared out of her mind assuming something horrible had happened, only to find her husband laughing and taking pictures with the local emergency response team, and her youngest stuck in an oversized bucket.

At the end of the day they were forced to cut him out, but the sweet relief when he tipped onto the ground free at least was almost worth the embarrassment. He might not have thought that if he had known there was still a picture in both the police department and the fire station of him as a kid stuck in a barrel.

***

Sunny was laughing at him by the time Martha was done with her story.

He grimaced, “Why do you only keep finding the embarrassing pictures.

“Oh what is this,”

“What are you wearing?”

Adam covered his eyes.

“Oh yeah, I couldn’t get my other boys to wear it, but he would model anything for me when I needed it. This was when I was doing a commission for a Seventies themed party. Isn’t he adorable.”

“Is that a jumpsuit, and what is with those glasses.”

Adam looked up at the sky.

“And of course when Maya moved out, and I didn’t have the money for a mannequin….”

Sunny picked up another picture, “That is one big ass dress.”

“Ah yes the bell skirts, doesn’t he look nice.”

Adam grunted and cleared his throat, “I think you'll find corsets are surprisingly comfortable. Second of all, I rock the regency and victorian periods, and no one can tell me otherwise.”

He might as well own it.

This was the 41st century, dresses weren’t just for women anymore, and some of them had been quite comfortable.

They would never really be his style, but he could see  why someone else would find them appealing.

By this point both Sunny and martha had migrated to the couch where they looked through embarrassing pictures of him as a baby and shared embarrassing stories. Sometimes gross stories as he sat on the other side of the room and suffered silently. Sunny seemed to be enjoying herself though, so he let it slide.

Seeing her happy was nice, since it hadn’t been very common over the past few months.

He blamed himself for that, and wondered idly how long it would take for her to fully forgive him.

He hoped not long.

[avenger-hawk]

Tagged by @altraes (thank you, it was fun to do this~)

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

                                                       *

(I wrote the first paragraphs because my first lines alone don’t make much sense lol)

1- ACQUIESCENCE (Minato/Itachi) my first fic ever. darkish but just a little, angsty. I’m proud of it cause another author wrote a sequel to it.

 to ac·qui·esce: to accept, agree, or allow something to happen by staying silent or by not arguing. A flurry of leaves, swept away by the autumn wind, caught the Hokage's attention while he took off his large hat. That time of the year should have been warmer.

2- THE WILL OF FIRE (Shiita, Danzo/Shisui, Danzo/Itachi) This was dark and shiita fans didn’t like it lol.

 Just like his owner, Danzo's studio was dark and dusty. The man didn't look as old as Hiruzen, but he was twice as scary; thus would think a boy of Itachi's age. Not him. He was not allowed to be afraid.

3- WHAT HE WANTED (Itasasu) Even tho I rewrote it cause I didn’t like how I initially characterized them and their dynamics this is my most popular fic. Maybe because it’s a post-ending, canon divergent, fix-it kind of story. Maybe because it’s Itasasu and I put so much love into writing their dynamics and, also, in giving Sasuke a good ending since canon didn’t do him justice.

Sasuke is where everybody wants him to be: in Konoha. With the battle and the arm he also lost the urge to fight. He's had enough of traveling. He's tired of chasing and being chased. So tired that even if he meant every word about starting a revolution, being the Hokage and build a new era, he had wondered, though only for a moment, if he would be able to really accomplish such tasks all by himself.

4- IN POWER WE ENTRUST THE LOVE ADVOCATED (Itasasu) THis is my second most popular fic. This one too was written after the ending and tried to give Sasuke justice. I planned to write a sequel but I got busy with other projects and lost interest in it.

The gates open, letting the shinobi in after a successfully completed mission. Being on duty the following day Sasuke declines his team mates' proposal to have dinner together, the reddish sunset light forcing him to squint as he walks towards the Hokage's office.

5- PRESSURE (Itasasu) Taken from In Power that can be read as a standalone oneshot.

Itachi wakes up to the sound of pouring water.

6- IN DREAMS (Itasasu, Izuna/Sasuke, DARKFIC). This is one of the darkest things I wrote. The Izuna/Sasuke crackpair was for @admiral-izusasu. The plot, the dynamics, everything has a double, or triple reading, plot related and metaphorical for other, real-life issues such as knowing people online, and emotional abuse from narcissistic people. I wrote it when I was fighting against one of these psychos, on tumblr itself, so this fic has a personal meaning for me. But also the plot and the canon divergent ending thing is cool, I think it’s one of my best fics, even though I coulnd’t care less about izuna.

They say that nature will always find a way. After the end of the war flowers keep blooming like nothing happened even if the light is fainter, filtered from the tall branches of the Shinju tree, now grown into a forest spread all over the world.

7- SOMBER CREATION PALE DESTRUCTION (Madara/Sasuke dom/sub-ish). Darkish? Who knows, I write darkfish stuff all the time. I was (and am) very proud of this fic, the canon divergent turn it took (who am I kidding, it’s really cool lol) and the weird relationship/dynamics these 2 created. So I didn’t update it anymore, because doing so would break their thin balance. Ssssh, don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense, I don’t believe you xD

History teaches that Madara Uchiha died at the hands of Hashirama Senju. Their statues were erected in the Valley Of The End where their battle was fought, where the shinobi god ended his best friend's life in order to protect the village they founded together. No one knows that Madara didn't die there.

8- IN THE DARK (kakashi/Sasuke, mob/Sasuke noncon). This is a very dark oneshot that I’m proud of, cause it ‘explains’ canon Sasuke personality in Shinden and later, and that I use as prequel for many fics, like WHW but also OFAF and Broken Things (see later for both).

Things never went as Sasuke wanted. After the war it's no different, although everything seems fine at first, Team 7 finally at peace with each other, the war ended and the village that Itachi protected, even as a dead man, safe. Nevertheless he is arrested when he's still in the hospital.

9- VICTIMS OF PEACE (Shisui/Sasuke dom/sub-ish) I am so proud of this fic, of its non massacre universe, of the dark-ish slow burn relationship between Shisui and Sasuke I wrote, tentatively at first cause no one did it or thought much about it, and because that non massacre filler was bad, but still it was inspiration. I know shiita fans hated me even more for this cause shisui is only paired with itachi, and also itachi/itasasu fans were disappointed but still. This is maybe the fic I’m most proud of.

If a traveler arrived from a random village in the Fire Country he would certainly notice how different Konoha was. He would not be able to pinpoint exactly why at first, because the buildings, houses and shops are similar, just like their gardens, fields and animals. Only after some thought he would understand that the difference is in their people: other villagers are relaxed and casual, even loud. Children run around the streets, chasing each other, playing tag or hide-and-seek. Their fathers bring them presents and their mothers buy them new clothes.

10- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS (DARK Narusasu) I received a lot of hate for this one, which makes me proud of it even more. so many naruto stans were butthurt by my characterization of him as a possessive not sunshine selfless boy and their dynamics as crazy.

Jiraiya used to complain that the first sign of getting old was waking up at night for no reason and not being able to fall back asleep. For Naruto, this only happened after the war.

11- BLACK ROSES (Itasasu, dom/sub-ish) Smutty Bloody Darky Hokage Itachi/Anbu Sasuke oneshot

Because of his farsighted politics, his loyalty towards his allies as well as his iron fist against his enemies, Itachi quickly became one of the most respected leaders in the shinobi world, and because of his unequaled diplomatic skills, along with his vast culture, impeccable manners and refined appearance, he became popular among nobles, including the Daimyo, whose official visits increased since the Uchiha rose to power.

12- NELL’IPOTESI GRANDE (=IN THE BIG HYPOTHESIS) (MetaMoro, not Naruto) I’m very proud of this one cause it’s a psycho-pass inspired longfic set in a retrofuturistic Italy with a totalitarian consumeristic regime. But that fandom is so shitty and they all hate me cause I called them homophobic fascists so no one cares. The excerpt is translated too.

He’s reminded of Pirandello’s* words as he’s riding the automatic taxi across the city, exiting the center towards EUR. COmpared to Milan with its skyscrapers, multilevel streets, automatic cars and incessant novelties, the capital is basically the same as it was portrayed in old illustrations: renaissance and 20th century buildings, seagulls, pines among the Roman ruins, sycamore trees on the Lungotevere, that was probably already busy with traffic when people travelled on horse carriages. (*an Italian writer)

13- DA UOMO A UOMO, MANO NELLA MANO (from man to man, hand in hand) (Metamoro) lol I was hated a lot for this one too. tbh the hate I received in the Naruto fandom is nothing compared to this other shitty fandom

For an artist like Fabrizio, mainly focused on expressing what he has inside, public relations are the hardest part of his job, especially when it’s about events where, instead of fans, of whom he perceives the sincere affection, other artists and professionals are invited. His experience taught him that most of them are hypocrites ready to jump on the winner’s bandwagon as quickly as to throw mud at the loser.

14- STRENGTH THROUGH WOUNDING (wip) (Obito/Sasuke, Obito/Itachi, dark.-ish) 

There is something nostalgic in the eerie way the boy's screams resonate through the dark cavern-like hideout, their pain bouncing from one curved wall to another, their anguish filling their crevices. It’s like hearing his past self from an external perspective, like Madara did. Which is fitting, for Obito is Madara now.

15- WORDS UNSAID (wip) (Kakashi/Sasuke) 

A black flame that cannot be extinguished: they had been warned about Amaterasu by Jiraiya, but seeing it was impressive nevertheless. The whole area was surrounded by black flames and the rain pouring hard could nothing against it. They found Sasuke there, surrounded, imprisoned by black flames that were extinguishing themselves, so they found a breach.

16- BLEEDING ME (Metamoro vampire/priest darkfic) No one can understand this in the Naruto fandom but it’s an AU interpretation of the Da UOMO A UOMO character dynamics where one is an emotional vampire-like person. I’m very proud of this fic tbh.

According to folk stories the forest was so big and full of dangers that God himself put a church where it ended, so that its priest would protect the people living nearby. It was a small, white building that didn’t match the typical stones and wood brownish ones of that region, with no stained glass windows or fancy columns, spires or gargoyles, only crosses with skulls and bones, and an engraving in an unknown language.

17- WILD CHILD (Metamoro cop/drug dealer AU). At this point I hate that fandom so much but I like my ideas and I write only for my girl whom I met in that very shitty fandom.

Everything seems bigger in children’s eyes. Like the playground in the courtyard of the church, with its slides and swings that for Ermal’s siblings were the setting of countless imaginary adventures which they told him in detail, enthusiastically interrupting each other, when he picked them up after school.

18- TRUE COLORS (Itasasu, dark, dom/sub) By now I’m only interested in writing dark IS and I enjoyed writing this one lol

"I knew you had it in you. You're a sadistic control freak. Even more than me." Orochimaru's voice resounded in Itachi's ears. Again.

19- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS 2: TO REPAIR WITH GOLD (Dark Narusasu). Cause I didn’t piss off NS fans enough I guess? lol this is ongoing and I like this idea so much

It's a rainy day in Konoha but no one seems to notice. Everyone is focused on the Hokage delivering his eulogy.

20- BROKEN THINGS (Shisui/Sasuke) My latest creation, I’m so proud of it cause it’s Shisasu again, my rarepair! and it was supposed to be a oneshot but it got longer because they have such a cool dynamic that things just happen and get longer.

In the Land of Water summers were hot and damp, autumn and spring were damp for the frequent rains and winter was no less, with its cold temperature and ubiquitous dampness. It wasn't a problem for Sasuke though.

                                                                       *

Tagging: @renamon15 and all the other authors I can’t remember right now and who want to do this, tag me back so I can read your first lines lol

[justcallmehitgirl]

Rose-Colored Boy (Peter Parker x Female Reader Smut)

Request: “Can I please request (In the wise words of another smut addict) ‘Shy peter being teased and turning into slutty Peter.’” - @idiosadeoro

Summary: Peter crashes a birthday party and meets Y/N. Birthday sex ensues.

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: SMUT, language.

A/N: It's my birthday this week, I met Tom on Sunday, I got an awesome request, and I felt inspired during my lunch break today. Enjoy!

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

You look up to see your friend handing you a drink. You take it reluctantly. You peer into the red cup and scrunch your nose. It smells like vodka and cherry coke.

You best friend decided to throw you a party at her parents’ house. They were away for the weekend. Your friend was much more outgoing than you, and you could tell this party was more for her than you.

“I’m having lots of fun,” you state, forcing a smile.

You look around to see people dancing in the living room and people mingling in the kitchen. You were standing in the corner just observing everyone. These people weren’t your usual crowd. Most of them didn’t even know who you were before tonight.

“Look alive, beautiful,” your friend says, playfully pinching your cheek. “This is all for you!” She winks before walking away to join a group in the kitchen. You sigh heavily, placing the cup on a table next to you before heading towards the stairs to find a good hiding spot for the night.

—

You’re lying on the bed in the guest bedroom reading a book on your phone when the door abruptly swings open and slams shut. You quickly sit up and smooth your dress down as it had started bunching a bit over your thighs.

You eye the person who had entered carefully, his back facing you as he presses his head against the door. He breathes in deeply almost in relief. He turns around slowly and jumps back a bit at the sight of you watching him. He places a hand on his heart.

“Oh geez, I’m sorry! I thought this room was empty.”

“I forgot to lock it,” you blurt.

You had never seen him before. He was cute with brown curly hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a plaid long-sleeved button-up shirt with a white undershirt underneath and jeans.

“Well, I’m just going to go,” he murmurs quickly, placing a hand on the doorknob.

“Wait!”

He turns his body towards you again.

“I’ve never seen you before. Do you go to Archbishop Molloy?”

He hesitantly shakes his head. You purse your lips.

“Then how did you find out about this party?”

He clasps his hands together nervously. “You see, my friend, Ned has a cousin who goes to Molloy.”

“Oh, I gotcha.”

“We heard it was some girl’s birthday party and we decided to sneak in.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you here for some nefarious reasons? Stealing? Taking advantage of drunk girls?”

He puts his hands up defensively. “No no, not at all! We just wanted to see what a Molloy party looked like.”

“I see. Well just FYI, the party’s actually for me. I’m ‘some girl.’”

He places a hand on his forehead.

“Of course I would run into the girl whose birthday party I’m crashing.”

You chuckle and stretch your hand out.

“I’m Y/N.”

He takes your hand and shakes it gently. “I’m Peter… Peter Parker.”

“So Peter, why are you hiding?”

“Oh I… um… some drunk girl kept coming onto me. I felt uncomfortable so I-I ran away from her and into this room.”

You nod.

He scratches the back of his neck.“Why are you hiding at your own party?”

“Just got tired,” you shrug.

He shifts awkwardly on his feet. You bite your lip as you eye him.

“You can sit next to me, you know. I don’t have cooties.”

He blushes and quickly takes a seat on the bed beside you. He looks down at the bedspread and plays with a piece of loose thread.

“Where do you go to school?” you inquire.

“Midtown.”

“Wow, you must be a genius.”

He shrugs sheepishly. “I’m alright.”

You smile at him and run a hand through your hair. He watches you closely. You can feel a subtle tension in the air between you two.

“You have very pretty hair,” he blurts.

You look taken aback. “Oh, it’s only because my friend styled it for me today. Usually it’s all curly and frizzy.”

You turn away and look down at your dress. He scootches closer to you on the bed and you feel the bed dip beside you.

“I bet it’s beautiful natural too.”

You blush and look up at him. His eyes are glued on yours and you feel your stomach turn into knots.

He slowly reaches over and gently runs his fingers over a piece of fallen hair framing your face.

“So soft,” he murmurs.

You gulp as his fingers linger a bit before lightly touching your cheek. You lean into his touch.

He runs his fingers across your jawline before placing his thumb over your bottom lip. He eyes you cautiously. You feel emboldened by his touch. You dart your tongue over his thumb. He eyes you intently. You take his thumb into your mouth and begin to suck. His mouth opens and closes as if to say something to you but instead he lets you continue.

You lightly twist your tongue up and over the top of his thumb before pursing your lips around it. He leans in closer to you. You suck up and down, smearing your berry lip balm down the base of his finger.

You hear him groan and you look up at him through fluttered eyelashes. You release his thumb from your mouth and take his hand into yours.

“Did you bring me a birthday present?” you ask raising a brow.

He shakes his head. You pout playfully. “That’s not very nice.”

He clears his throat. “C-can I make it up to you?”

You nod with a smirk, happy that he’s playing along.

“What do you have in mind?”

You slide your dress up your legs and place his hand on your bare thigh. He strokes his thumb over your skin, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You gently grab his wrist and tug his hand between your legs. You see him gulp as his fingers brush against your underwear.

You drag his fingers across your covered center so he feels the wetness seeping through the thin fabric. He shifts in his seat. You glance over at his crotch to see the distinct bulge beneath his pants.

“I want you,” you say quietly.

He abrubtly gets up from the bed and you feel taken aback as your cheeks redden. You knew what rejection felt like but you weren’t prepared for this. You watch as he walks toward the door and touches the doorknob. You feel your eyes begin to water. But instead of him leaving, he turns the lock. You feel your body relax and excitement fills your belly.

He smiles at you as he rejoins you on the bed.

“I don’t want us to get interrupted.”

You nod and smile in response.

He places his hands on either side of your face and pulls you into a kiss. You kiss him back, moaning into his mouth.

He removes one hand from your face and places it over the strap of your dress. He plays with it before pushing it down your arm. The other strap gradually falls as well and you can feel the front of your dress dip low so the swell of your breasts are peeking out.

You pull back from his kiss and lean back to lie down. You grab his hands and motion for him to lie down beside you. You gaze up at him as you take his hands and place them over your covered breasts.

“Touch me,” you command softly.

He squeezes your breasts gently. He could feel that your nipples were hard even through the bra you wore. You sit up for a moment to unhook your bra, pulling it from your body and dropping it to the floor. His eyes are frozen on your bare chest, just taking in the sight. You touch his arm to signal for him to continue. He resumes massaging. You close your eyes while his hands continue rubbing, gently kneading your front.

Your breaths are even and relaxed even though you can feel your entire body burning up. You squeeze your legs to quell the dull pulsing of your clit.

He takes each nipple and rolls them gently between his fingertips. You hum softly and arch your back slightly. You roll towards him, moving his hands away from your breasts. You tug at his shirt, undoing the buttons to expose his lower abdomen. You reach behind his back to pull yourself towards him. Your lips meet his, and his mouth opens. His tongue pushes between your lips seeking yours. He pushes his tongue against yours and you groan into his mouth. He holds you close, not wanting to let go.

You push his shirt over his shoulders and you run your hands over his bare chest. You feel his muscles beneath your touch and you can’t help but wonder how someone could hide such a magnificent body. You trail your hands down his stomach and find his belt buckle. You clumsily undo it and unbutton his pants. He reluctantly breaks away from you to pull his pants and boxers down. His cock bounces from beneath the waistband of his underwear. You stare at his thick, hard member, just taking in the sight as you feel yourself getting more turned on at the thought of him inside of you.

He pushes your dress down your stomach and slides it down your legs. You try to kick the rest of the dress from you but it’s tangled underneath your feet. You blush at how uncoordinated you are. Peter looks down and merely chuckles. He kisses your cheek as he helps you kick off the rest of the dress from your feet.

You tilt your head and feel the butterflies in your stomach. Even though you just met him, you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart.

He hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and pulls them down and off of you. For a few moments you both stare at each other, just absorbing each other’s nakedness.

His fingers find its way through your pubic hair and into the cleft between your legs. His finger slides past your clit and he gently slips a finger into you. You inhale deeply.

You watch him as he pushes his finger in and out of you. You run a hand through his curly hair and close your eyes, relishing the feeling of his touch. He pushes another finger inside of you and you arch your back. You can’t stand the teasing anymore, you just need him inside you.

“Condom?” you whisper breathlessly.

He blinks a few times and nods frantically, reaching down to grab his fallen pants to find his wallet. He reaches in and hastily tugs a foiled package from one of the wallet’s compartments. He rips it open and slides the latex material over his swollen cock. You watch mesmerized.

He slides his body over yours and guides his cock into position. You instinctively widen your legs. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes darting between your lips and your eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asks huskily.

You smile and touch his cheek before nodding. He nods as he pushes his cock slowly inside of you. You don’t move, just staying in place to try to adjust to your pussy being filled.

You had only done this once before. It was with a boy you met last summer while visiting your grandparents. He told you he loved you. He was rough and eager. He didn’t even take off his clothes. It wasn’t like this. This was different.

“Is this okay?” he whispers above you.

He breaks you out of your thoughts and you place a kiss on his lips in approval. He smiles and begins to slide in and out of you. You breathe hard as he holds onto your hips and drives into you in a slow, steady rhythm.

A chill runs up your spine as he continues driving into you, his cock slick with your juices. You run your hands down his back, feeling the sweat accumulate beneath your fingertips.

It feels so good, and you feel so full. You watch Peter’s face scrunch up in ecstasy. You wonder how many times he’s done this. He seems like a pro.

He places a hand underneath your buttocks and hooks your leg over his hip so he’s entering you more deeply. He looks down at you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he comments breathily.

He brushes a piece of hair from your face and kisses you. You kiss him back and he quickens his movements. He starts to hit a particularly pleasurable spot and you feel your mouth widen.

“It feels so good,” you breathe.

You see him smirk above you.

“You like that, baby? Is this what you wanted for your birthday?”

You nod eagerly and moan.

“Oh my god, yessssss,” you hiss. “Faster.”

“Anything for the birthday girl.”

He slams into you harder and you throw your head back. You utter a soft cry as you begin to shake. He notices your reaction and reaches down and rubs his thumb against your clit. His touch triggers the avalanche inside of you. You grab onto his shoulders as your pussy begins to spasm and your body shakes against his. He holds you steady with one arm as he places his other hand beneath your head to prevent you from hitting your head against the bed.

You bite your lip but you can’t help but cry out softly. You continue holding onto him, quivering as you ride your orgasm. You feel your pussy clamp down around his cock. He lets out a groan.

“I-I’m going to cum,” he gasps.

You hold onto him as he rides out his own orgasm, feeling his member pulse inside of you. He falls against you and you kiss his neck while he continues to quiver.

After a few moments he reluctantly rolls off of you. You sigh at the loss of contact. You turn your body and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around you.

“That was really good,” you smile. “Best birthday present for sure.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Totally wasn’t expecting my night to go this way. I don’t usually sleep with random girls… not that you’re random! I just mean I don’t usually do… this.”

You place a finger over his lips and laugh.

“I understand. I’m the same.”

You place a kiss on his chin.

“Are you happy that we did it?”

He looks down and nods enthusiastically.

“Absolutely.”

He smiles and hugs you, pulling you tightly in his embrace. You start to shiver and he pulls the sheet and blanket over you both. You both stay there, your body curled against his.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

You smile and close your eyes. Maybe this was going to be a good year after all.

Permanent Tag List: @alwayswritingsworld / @satansbabe1​ / @i-love-superhero / @unicorn6664 / @tulipsforharry / @hazmyheart / @tell-that-to-my-feather / @arcticfireworks / @zabdisamor / @delicately-important-trash

[ojitos-morenos]

Important Tips When Purchasing Handmade Furniture

Hand made furniture could be an investment that absolutely lasts creations. Nevertheless, it can easily likewise be a facade to hide low quality craftsmanship as well as attach a fee cost to it. Here are five necessary ideas when purchasing hand crafted furniture to make sure that you make the best selection. We'll give you some reminders on how to determine regardless if handmade furniture is actually worth and reliable your loan and also the warning signs that it is poorly brought in.

Understand What It Is Actually Made Of

Hand-crafted wood furniture coming from reputable furniture pictures including Birchwood may be the highest degree of top quality. Handmade furniture is actually commonly made coming from even more expensive components, yet that makes it resilient enough to last for generations. Given that the furniture is actually helped make coming from hard woods by hand, each piece is actually definitely special. If your tastes transform, they're sturdy sufficient to be actually redecorated as well as painted. It is achievable to receive poor premium hard wood furniture, too.

Laminate looks like hardwood however isn't. Veneer is a chemical abundant fiberboard covered by a coating of somewhat far better timber. It is lighter as well as much cheaper than real wood and also is likewise even more prone to damages, scratches, as well as peeling. You could possibly repaint it, though usage varies.

The majority of sellers won't test to exist to you as well as mention veneer furniture is produced from hard woods. As an alternative, they'll label it "mid-century" or "rustic." Even if they state it is actually produced with a timber finish, does not suggest that timber is actually under the area. Ask if you're in uncertainty. To learn more information regarding home furniture: check this link right here now.

Fragment board is actually the trademark of mass-produced, economical furniture. A considerable amount of the affordable diy lumber furniture is actually helped make from particle panel. Stay away from laminates and remain away coming from particle panel furniture if you can when you're purchasing for hand crafted furniture.

Check the Finish

An indicator you're dealing with sub standard furniture is poor-quality surface. If the surface is actually bubbling, swelling or cracking, don't buy it. The finish of high quality furniture will remain in one piece and also refine to the style. You shouldn't experience rough spots or even observe pollutants. The wood grain need to show up unless it's been painted over. The lighting should mirror in the finish but not bounce off of it like a mirror. If it's been actually coated, the paint project ought to be smooth and also also, not look like a DIY task.

Assess the Joints

Top quality handmade furniture is held together with pins (timber fixes in slotted opposing gaps), fits together (interlacing teeth), mortise and also tenon (slim piece placed in to yet another), Z-clips, or even screws. The joints must merely possess a few thousandths of an inch between the skins of the junction. There shouldn't allow spaces or ragged edges at the joints. It will certainly not be actually glued, nailed or even stapled all together.

Test Its Functionality

An exceptional method to identify the high quality of a piece of furniture is actually to test it out just before you take it home. Open the doors of a counter, and also verify that they remain available. Finalize the doors, and validate that the locks lock properly, the doors close fully, as well as the doors on their own preside equally. If they keep open as well as don't create a great deal of noise, swing open the cabinets on a hutch and see. See if you can shake the openers; if they're loose, that's an indicator. Make certain the slides operate easily when you pull the compartments out of a cabinet. Remain on the bed, as well as ensure it is actually a pleasant height.

An edge advantage of seeing crafters is actually the capability to test the high quality of the items they possess on call up for sale, so you understand that any personalized parts you purchase will be actually durable. You can not test out furniture sent to your house in a package up until it runs out the box. After that there's the truth that if you get coming from a huge container store, you'll simply possess a handful of times to return it as well as they will definitely seek main reasons to refuse a reimbursement or substitute.

Look at the Background of the Furniture and the Maker

Well-trained craftsmans with a commitment to furniture, the art, as well as the tradition will likely produce a masterwork. Talk to the artisan to learn their history in the business and just how they trained. This can inform you a lot more regarding the furniture's development than you could possibly gain through examining it out. If required, talk to concerning the artisan's assurance for exactly how they would certainly repair it. If there is no promise or dedication to sustaining the work, that is actually a sign.

This whole method is actually made easier by getting near to home. In your area sourced materials are also even more familiar to you as well as much less very likely to become wrecked or deteriorated than those that arise from abroad. You know it had not been constructed in a factory as well as passed off as handmade if you understand that created it.

If it is actually of appropriate top quality, hand crafted furniture is just worth the cost. Adhere to these ideas to make sure you're acquiring the carefully crafted piece you were actually seeking.

[ducktracy]

120. the phantom ship (1936)

release date: february 1st, 1936

series: looney tunes

director: jack king

starring: tommy bond (beans), bernice hansen (ham and ex), billy bletcher (skeleton)

the first cartoon to include the trademark zooming WB shield! ham and ex make their first appearance since i haven’t got a hat. they’d accompany beans in a few cartoons, usually as trouble making nuisances to the chagrin of beans. beans travels to iceland to investigate a haunted ship, but stowaways ham and ex cause trouble for all.

open to ham and ex, crouched over a newspaper that’s sprawled out on the floor. they exchange awed looks, the headline reading “BEANS TO HUNT FOR HAUNTED TREASURE SHIP IN NORTH”, complete with a photo of a smiling beans in pilot’s garb. ham and ex leap to their feet, giggling excitedly and dashing out the door.

they stumble across beans, who’s oiling up his anthropomorphic plane (a scene parallel to bosko lubing up HIS plane in dumb patrol (1931)). beans runs into the shed to fetch something, leaving the perfect opportunity for ham and ex to jump into the smiling plane as stowaways. the disney-esque plane lets them in, lowering itself and opening the hatch. beans returns just in time, unaware that he has two guests going along in his journey. he squirts more oil into the plane’s mouth, gives the propeller a good spin, and hops right in to take off.

on the plane’s dashboard is a ticker that marks beans’ various destinations. amusingly out of place animation was beans does the hopak while flying over russia, icicles forming on his nose and thermometer bursting after flying over iceland… he whips out a pair of binoculars and spots a broken, worn down ship in the frosty climate. beans gives an excited “hooray!” and spirals safety into a landing, icicles substituting the role of smoke. 

he skids to a stop right in front of the ship. a bat is perched on the wall of the ship, its wings labelled “THE PHANTOM”. beans observes in excitement as the bat flies away. suddenly, ham and ex burst out of the hatch, exclaiming “surprise! surprise!” surely enough, beans is startled after his wits, the famous jack king “hat take” as his hat flies up in shock. he scratches his head and merely shrugs it off.

ham and ex eagerly take beans by the hands, pulling him along. conveniently, a staircase plops down right where the trio was standing. beans cautiously approaches the staircase and motions for the eager pups to follow. just as they begin to ascend, the stairs slide down beneath them, like going up the down escalator. a spare board attached to the ship takes a life of its own as a giant hand and smacks them all to the top of the ship.

the sails on the ship are worn and ragged. one of the torn sails morphes into (another) giant hand, this time tugging at beans’ tail and attempting to snatch him up. it succeeds, and it carelessly tosses beans to another anthropomorphic sail, who then slams him to the ground. the world’s cruelest game of monkey in the middle. beans bounces off a pile of rope, prompting an anthropomorphic anchor to deck him good. beans flies into the belly of the ship, landing on the ground and shadow boxing in self defense, muttering “i’ll get that so and so, he can’t do that to me!” in the midst of his groveling, a lantern swings and knocks beans over once more.

elsewhere, ham and ex are calling “uncle beans! uncle beans!” at the top of the ship with no luck. a pirate skeleton (or skeleton pirate? :thinking emoji:) pops out of a hanging safety boat and grunts “pipe down!” ham and ex, terrified, take cover under a tarp, trembling (complete with an out of place, frankly annoying ringing bell sound effect). a life preserver falls on top of them. lovely, stretchy animation (that reminds me of a very watered down version of this from a gruesome twosome) as ham and ex attempt to run away from each other, yet inevitably bouncing back and collapsing.

instead, they opt to commute by one carrying the other on his shoulders. predictably, they form the appearance of a ghost. i wonder where this is going. they bump into an open door occupied by a skeleton. the skeleton freaks out, clinging to a flagpole for safety. the flagpole breaks, and, with no other option for escape, the skeleton jumps overboard. more animation strikingly parallel to a gruesome twosome as ham and ex topple off each other, running into a pole. both “sides” of their tarp covered lump stretch out on opposite ends, and they’re propelled backwards, conveniently tying around the pirate skeleton from before and unwinding. they’re tossed against the door of the anthropomorphic ship (jack king’s disney influence strong as ever), the door used as a tongue as the ship swallows the pup into its cavernous belly.

like an out of control snowball, the twins barrel down the stairs… and right into beans. the tarp unfolds with ham and ex on the outside and beans beneath the tarp. unaware that their precious uncle beans is smothered beneath the tarp, ham and ex grab two pieces of wood and bash the moving lump’s head in. finally beans yells “OUCH!” (he sounds a lot like jackie morrow’s interpretation of buddy instead of tommy bond. i wonder if they switched for this cartoon? some of the voice credits are so unreliable, but i’m sure my judgement isn’t the best either. i’ll still keep the credit as bond for simplicity/continuity’s sake, but it certainly does sound suspiciously like morrow.), and ham and ex spot an injured beans beneath the tarp.

they both scoop him up, holding him by the hands. beans registers the pain (figurative and literal) and weasels his way out of their grip, exclaiming “bah!” in frustration. he opens a door, hoping for an exit, and finds something much more desirable: a treasure chest overflowing with gold. he creeps over cautiously, then rifling through the goods like he can’t believe it. ham and ex also imitate his cautious saunter, playing with their own coins. a nice little segment of brief personality as they bet each other on flipping coins. 

suddenly, beans spots two people sitting in front of a woodstove, frozen. not creepy at all. beans pulls out a chair beneath one of the frozen victims, and then the other, and feeds both into the stove. he strikes a match to get a roaring fire going, and returns to his treasure while they thaw. beans loads sacks of gold into his plane, tossing them right out the window. 

finally, both of the frozen wonders thaw out and regain consciousness. a particularly burly pirate (that you know is voiced by billy bletcher, even without hearing him. literally another peg leg pete character, complete with said peg leg) discovers beans tossing heaps of gold into his plane and threatens him. beans, ham, and ex are all terrified, ham and ex seeking refuge in a barrel while beans runs away from the pissed off pirate.

eventually, the pirate’s peg leg gets caught in an exposed hole in the board. ham and ex observe the stuck pirate, but quickly duck as the pirate’s assistant spots the curious pups. jack king uses a lot of closeups in his work, and they’re particularly rife in this cartoon. i applaud him for doing something different and slightly ambitious, but they break up the flow of the cartoon rather than enhance it. now, the assistant chases after ham and ex, running straight into a pole and becoming disoriented.

back to the pirate, who’s exerting all of his effort to loosen his peg from the board. he tears the board out from the floor, still stuck. he pulls so hard that he’s propelled into the air, thrown to the deck of the ship where beans is pacing around. bans hides in a cannon, but the pirate pulls him out regardless. he punches beans into a tube… and beans pops out from a parallel tube, ramming right into the pirate. 

ham and ex are shimmying along on a rope close to the crow’s nest (i guess the chase is now just… on top of the ship now? with no prior indication? suspension of disbelief, i know), the pirate’s assistant preparing cutting the rope. ham and ex swing right into the parked plane below, starting the engine. meanwhile, beans is still engaged in his own fight, narrowly dodging an exploding barrel of tnt. he’s rocketed into the air, and ham and ex swoop into the rescue, catching beans in the back seat. beans snaps out of his fugue, coming to terms with ham and ex’s bravery. he gives them kisses of gratitude before saluting the ground before him, and iris out as the plane flies away into the horizon.

not my favorite jack king entry, but not the worst. it was relatively gagless and didn’t feel as exhilarating as it should have with all the action unfolding. it WAS nice to see ham and ex make their first (of a handful) appearance since i haven’t got a hat, though. it just came off as relatively incoherent. it’s basically what you’d imagine it to be as. anthropomorphic objects everywhere. hijinks ensue. it just didn’t have anything to write home about, beans felt drier than usual and ham and ex, a slight improvement, still felt pretty bare, too. i’d say skip it, nothing great but nothing terrible either. but, of course,

link!

[fiveminutestoriez]

Cicada

My sister disappeared July 29th, 2010. We had biked over to the playground next to the abandoned Junior High. The weeds had already bagan to fill in the grassy patches since no one was there to stop their excessive growth. It was an easy ride over and each of our old bikes hummed along the fresh pavement that I feared would melt my tires if I stayed in one place for too long. The path we took gave way to the man made structure that stood out giants the greenery that surrounded it. The mauve paint on the skeleton of the play place was chipping away and coated in brutal scratches from years of roughhousing and the older kids in the neighborhood. We always came here to swing and meet with friends, but that all changed that humid summer evening. When we arrived the woods surrounding the playground were unusually quiet with the sparrows seeking shelter elsewhere and the bugs seemingly afraid to raise their voices. It was only my sister and I on the brown mulch as we chased one another and claimed our territories. I sat within the tube slide, legs spread to catch my weight so I would not slide any further down. She sat down on the blue rubber of her favorite swing. It was quiet.

Suddenly the cicadas screams began in a low hum. A steady rhythmic call to the world as I sat still within the tube. I could hear it grow louder and as if it were trying to warn of the approach of a predator, yet I heard nothing other than the squeeks of my sister on the swing. Faster and faster its cries came, building a tension in my stomach mingled with the peanut butter cookies I had earlier. They would simmer down for moments, but always grew to a higher volume with each passing second. Like a siren they wail into the unseen, raising the skin of all who hears their call. They knew something I did not. I began to listen in to find out what was there before it found me. It was not until the silence of the bugs did I realise the steady squeals of the metal chain had stopped, replaced by a low moan as the swing had all but stopped its motion. I fumbled myself out of the tube landing on the chips with a crunch. I looked over to her favorite swing that she claimed every day. She was gone. I began to call out her name. For maybe she had just walked away or was hiding behind something to jump out and scare me. But only silence answered each of my calls. Not even the cicadas dared to speak as I ran around the perimeter of the woods calling out her name. Desperation soon quickly overtook me. I was only 10. What was I supposed to do?

I do not remember much of what happened next. My mom and dad came, and so did the police. Soon the empty playground was full of people, people I had never seen before. By the time I realized that she was truly gone the sun had met the earth and the streetlamps were alight. The police had already ruled it a kidnapping, why would a girl who had everything run away from home? It did not make any sense. All through the nights the police stayed with my parents, my mother cried and my father clenched his fists and made a face I had never seen before. They did not find her, not even her body.

Mom and dad talked on the news, begging whoever took her to bring her back, but their plea would go unanswered. My parents fought a lot after that. They could not be in the same room without one blaming the other for their daughter's disappearance. I never knew why they did that. It was clearly my fault she was gone. For the next few years I could never leave the house. Not that I wanted to anyway. There was no way my parents would lose me too. The kids at school treated me differently as well. They always spoke to me in soft voices and watched each of their words as if the next one was the wrong wire and they would trigger the bomb. It went on like this. Days, months, years passed with no word of my sister, not even a whisper. My parents' marriage crumbled and soon the papers were filed saying I would have 2 houses. I bounced back from one parent to another, with each trying to desperately cater to my needs and wants like I was some kind of prize to be won over. I threw myself into my studies and did not make many friends. They all stopped texting me or moved on to a new best friend. I did not mind. And I did not go back to that park.

College soon came and I had to figure out what I wanted to do. I got into every prestigious college with an essay on my sister. That was the only time I had to think back. Everyones a sucker for a sad story. I decided to go with business at first, there is nothing personal with business. It wasn't until I took a class in criminal science did my true passion reveal itself. Seeing people analyze different cases finding out how, and why, bad things happened filled the hole that went with my sister. I knew I had to work to figure out these cases so no one else had to wonder where their sister went. Each case brought me closer to her. Each case made me think.

All the feelings of hate, sadness and fear arose like bile in my throat as I recounted that day my sister disappeared. Who took her? Where did she go? Was she even still alive? All these questions filtered through my mind as the bitter cold case of my sister ran through my head. I had to find out what happened to her. I spent all of my twenties studying law and kidnappings that were similar to that of my sister. Hoping to find a shred of truth of what happened that day. I soon got distracted when I reached 28 and money was more important than my sister. I took every case I could and my distaste for humanity began. Men could do unspeakable things to women and get off with a slap on the wrist. A child was sentenced to life, just by the color of his skin. Children were being used by fighting parents against one another. Businesses would exploit their workers and do anything to not have to pay for an injury. But a paycheck was a paycheck and the memories of the playground on July 29th, 2010 became faded.

It took the world falling apart for me to start thinking of my sister again. With the world's GDP falling dramatically and the gap between the rich and poor becoming ever more apparent, the everyday person no longer had power to make any impact on the downward spiral. New mutations of the flu caused a drop in the worldwide population and millions died. The Ozone began to deteriorate as pollutants were pumped into the air, encasing the world in smaug. Crops withered away as the heat grew too intense for them to prosper and animals dropped like flies to mysterious diseases that no one cared about fixing. The countries were constantly fighting for scarce resources and the doomsday clock was a second away from midnight. With the rich and powerful ignoring these pressing issues it only took man to make the whole world end. Bombs were exchanged between world powers as every citizen could only just sit there and watch, holding their loved one close in their final moments before complete annihilation. I was 30, no children or significant other to hold. I stopped speaking to my parents a long time ago. I had nothing tying me to this crumbling world.

I went back to that playground as the sirens wailed above me. Planes flew in a hurry over in the distance, but all I heard was the cicadas. I sat on her swing as I thought back to July 29th, 2010. I kept my eyes closed as I let go of this world and I began to swing higher and higher. My sister would always do this. Bring her legs down as gravity carried her faster and faster with each swing. She always had wanted to flip around the top metal bar that kept the swing suspended. She told me stories about how only the bravest could stomach the death defying stunt and would be rewarded by the bragging rights during recess. I decided I would try this, for my final act. I began to swing, faster and faster and faster. My stomach did flips as the momentum brought it plummeting down with me. I was almost there, I was even with the bar on the peak of my swing. I kept going and going. The cicadas cheered me on as they all but shouted in their cacophonous voices. They were almost as loud as the sirens at this point, but I did not care. All I cared for was going over the bar. The rumbling in the background did nothing to draw my focus away from my goal. I kept going and going, blood curdling in my ear as my mind chanted, you can do it! Until suddenly I felt weightlessness. I had soared over the bar and was looking out upon a frozen world. Birds had stopped mid flight, leaves were stagnant in the wind, and the loud sirens had ceased their call. Only the monotone noise of the cicada remained. My butt had left the rubber seat, but my hands remained gripped to the chains. The world was at peace. I breathed out, but I knew this second would not last as I continued my descent back to earth. As my view once again passed the bar I noticed things had changed. The once bland playground was vivid with color. The sky, a once desolate grey became a piercing blue interlaced with fluffy white clouds, perfect for cloud watching. I slowed down on the swing until I was no longer moving. Where was I? It was then that I saw her. She was all grown up but I would be blind if I did not recognize her. It was my sister. Twenty years had passed since I had seen her and I rushed forward to meet her on the woodchips of our childhood. We embraced like we had when we were kids. I pulled her close and refused to let her be taken from me ever again. She released me and we just stared into one another. She began to look down as she brought out her hands that seemed to be cupping something. She unfurled her fingers to reveal a cicada in her hands. It buzzed and flapped its wings as she said to me,

“Are you ready to head home?”

[ruluxe]

Kill Your Darlings

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender Pairing: Shiro / Keith Words: 3000 Summary: Keith returns to the place he first met Shiro ten years earlier in order to put his painful past to rest and move on. Despite the good memories this home holds on to, the malevolence residing there isn’t ready to say goodbye. Warnings: Graphic Description of Corpses, Minor Blood and Gore, Minor Character Death, Alternate Universe - Horror, Psychological Horror, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters Notes: Submission for @darkvoltronzine  ‘s horror zine, Eternal Eclipse.             Read on Ao3

The car dips and bounces unsteadily over deep fissures in the weathered pavement he pulls into the long, winding driveway. As it slows to a stop, Keith leans over the dash to get a better look at the house and frowns. It’s strange that it looks much larger now than it had when he was a boy. His heart sinks a bit when he realizes that it’s still structurally sound and standing after all these years. Part of him was hoping it wouldn’t be.

It's not to say the home hasn't seen better days, though. What was once a bright white paint is now a sickly grey, bubbling and peeling away. The rest of the walls are covered in thick, overgrown vines. Tall, square windows are boarded up with deteriorating wood planks or otherwise broken. The manicured lawn, once a lush green, now a yellowed, overgrown mess. Weeds sprout out of cracks in the stairs and piles of dead leaves make the air smell of earthy rot. To his left is the now-dying willow tree that he and Shiro would sprawl under, seeking refuge in its shade from the sticky summer heat. Beside it is the lake, now a dark and murky black.

There’s a pang in his chest.He realizes he’s been gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles have turned white.

I should never have come back here.

"You have to return to your past, Keith,” his therapist tells him. “You must say goodbye and put this guilt to rest.”

“Easier said than done,” he mutters as he climbs out of the car and shuts the door behind him. He can remember arguing that this wasn't going to help with the nightmares; that coming back here was going to help with the pain. His therapist insisted otherwise.

“Enter the building, walk through the halls. Feel the warm embrace of the all the good memories you had there.”

Keith stands for a moment at the foot of the stairs leading into Saint Anne’s Institute for Boys and closes his eyes. He can feel his features pulling pensive as he tries to gather images from his past.

Remember the good.

Keith lets himself travel backwards in time. He’s behind the house, surrounded by thick forestry. At a crackling campfire, the boys are roasting treats on twigs they’ve found. He can smell the sugar, can almost taste it on his tongue. It's sometime in the early spring, the last of the snow has melted, and it's warm enough to sit outside. Keith hasn't been here that long, but he's made a few friends, one boy, in particular, has been really kind to him. Patience yields focus, he tells him as Keith burns his fifth marshmallow. Shiro sits beside him, his face illuminated by the soft orange glow of the fire. Keith makes a face at the statement, wisdom as profound as this seems odd being taught under the circumstances, but he is grateful for it anyway. Shiro laughs and Keith holds onto this moment a second longer, replaying the way the ends of his mouth curve into a smile, watching as the other boy’s eyes crinkle in the corners. Reveling in the flare of heat that spreads through his veins as Shiro’s hand clasps over his. It's inexplicable but here in this boy, he's found hope. Keith finally feels safe. He finally feels like he's home.

The next memory clicks in like he's watching a slide show. The scenery has changed and it's summer, six months after Keith's arrival. The sky is bright blue and cloudless. Sunlight sparkles off the lake. The large willow tree beside the house is thriving; it's branches like curtains, behind which he and Shiro would often hide from the overbearing sun. The other boys are rowdy, wrestling or playing some kind of sport, either way, they're as loud and boisterous as ever. Keith doesn't mind the noise; it all begins to meld with the low drone of the cicadas chirping. His head slips onto Shiro's shoulder as he's lulled into a lazy slumber.

Suddenly the sun falls behind the peaked roof and the front yard is cast in shadow. The wind picks up, and the old tired swing screeches as it sways on rusted hinges. Autumn leaves skitter across the driveway and barren trees stretch across the yard, their decaying branches reaching out like bony, gnarled claws grasping for eternal youth.

There's a tightness around his hand where there shouldn't be and when Keith looks, it's Shiro, only his face is bloated a sickly greyish purple. His eyes are waxed over in thick, milky yellow cataracts and his jaw is unnaturally unhinged like it's caught on a soundless scream. Keith tries to wrench his hand free but the grip on his hand tightens as it begins to pull him down towards its mouth. It's saying something Keith can't hear and the smell of decay is overwhelming.

“Get off!” he cries desperately as he begins prying the slimy fingers away from his hand. The thing’s mouth opens wider, making a sound now; a keening, stuttering whine as its mouth gets larger and larger. Keith is inches from Shiro's face. It's jaw drops to the ground, plopping into a putrid puddle and several large roaches scatter out from the gaping black hole.

Keith makes a strangled sound and opens his eyes, shaking his head as if the violent motion will rid him of the image faster.

It doesn't.

His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his mind spins as he attempts to grasp onto the present. He feels like he's going to be sick, in fact, it takes everything in him not to expel the contents of his stomach over the broken cement stairs. Once he's gained some semblance of composure, Keith whirls around and surveys the grounds. There's nothing or no one here.

He looks to his car and thinks about running. This isn't a good idea, no matter how much his therapist thinks it is. Anxiety gnaws at his gut until it feels raw, his chest tight, his clothes damp with sweat. He wants to leave so badly, but Keith isn't sure how much longer he can live like this.

Shiro never gave up on me, he thinks. It gives him a sliver of courage, enough that he clenches his fists in determination and hikes up the stairs to the heavy double doors.

They've been left ajar as if everyone left in a hurry without a second look back. After all, no one could have prepared themselves for that grisly day.

Keith gingerly pushes one of the doors open.

Inside it's dark, but with time, Keith's eyes adjust with the aid of little light that filters through openings in the wood boarded on the windows. The foyer is still furnished with the original decor except time has ripped and stained the upholstery. It smells of mould and mildew. The staircase leading to the second floor looks unsafe, but Keith walks up anyway, carefully planting a foot on each step, sliding his hand up the dust-crusted wooden rail. He experiences a wave of nostalgia as the stairs groan under his weight, remembering the times he and Shiro would sneak downstairs for a late night snack. They would avoid each weak point expertly, taking pride in stealth that rivalled covert ops agents, even though they failed at containing their giggling. A smile pulls at Keith's lips but it's only for a moment as a rat scurries across the floor, startling him. His heart leaps into his throat.

Aside from that, the halls are quiet.  All the doors are closed, shutting in the secrets each room holds within their walls. Flushed cheeks and fingers entwined. A whispered confession under a single bed’s shared covers. His first kiss on a window seat bathed in moonlight.

The unnoticed disappearances.

It was common, they said, for the wayward teenage boys that ended up here too often run away. Most of them were orphaned or discarded; kids that wouldn’t be missed if one or two of them happened to vanish without a trace.

Shiro was different. He wouldn’t leave me. They were each other’s future.

Keith rests his head against the door and he’s flooded with memories. There’s commotion outside, but he’s told to stay inside along with the other children. In his gut, he can feel there is definitely something wrong, something they’re not telling him. It’s been hours, and no one says a word, but the feeling of dread begins to weigh too heavily and Keith needs to know for himself. He manages to climb out a window and down a trellis on the side of the house. First, he sees the blurring blue and red; the bright yellow tape. Cars are parked everywhere and their tire treads have left vulgar scars along the pristine lawn. Keith’s stomach is tied in knots, his heart begins to pound. He has a sinking feeling in his stomach as he races over to the crowd that surrounds the willow tree.

“Stay back, kid. You don’t  wanna see this.”

He looks anyway.

Several masses wrapped neatly in crisp white stretch across the rocky shores as they dredge the lake beside the house. It takes a minute for it to dawn on Keith that these are bodies.

The breeze carries an odour of noxious rot; it clings to the insides of his nostrils until he can almost taste it in the back of his throat. He looks then — a corner flaps, and he sees a boy with a missing arm. His silvery eyes are open, flatly staring at infinite nothingness, yet staring right at him. Then they blink.

Keith vomits. Again and again and when he thinks he’s finished he throws up again, heaving until he has nothing left in his stomach to expel. His hair is matted to his head, his stomach aches raw, his cheeks are tacked with damp salty grit. He wipes the bile and spittle from his mouth on the back of a gloved hand, only to slam it angrily against the door as he lets out a cry of anguish.

“I hate you!” he screams, hitting the door again. “You weren’t supposed to leave me! I hate you, I hate you!” But he doesn’t. Not really. He hates himself for not seeing the pattern sooner. He hates himself for not doing more.

He hates himself because he’s still here.

Heaving a broken sigh, Keith presses his palm softly against the door. “I never stopped looking for you,” he says, deluding himself into believing that Shiro is on the other side of it. “But I —” and he has to stop to choke back a sob, to brush away the tears brimming in the wells of his eyes. “But I,” he sniffles, “finally found you.” He laughs bitterly. “It was just too late.”

A scraping sound comes from inside the room and Keith jumps back, jerking his hand from the door.

“Too late,” a voice mimics, disembodied and distorted but no doubt coming from the other side of the door.

Keith’s breath comes out in shallow huffs, his heart races. He stares at the door wide-eyed in disbelief, unable to make a sound. He’s unsure if he wants to. But he does, after a moment, because he can’t stop himself from hoping, even if it’s the most absurd belief he’s had in awhile.

“S-Shiro?” He waits. There is only silence.

He lifts a hesitant hand to the door and tries the knob only to be met with resistance. Without conscious thought, he begins hitting the door with his fist until the edge of his hand aches. “Shiro? If that’s you, answer me, please! ”

There’s movement in his peripheral. Keith whirls around to find that nothing is there. The corridor seems to stretch on for miles, but he knows that he’s only a few feet from the stairs. He turns attention back to the door and waits for a few minutes. Nothing more happens to make him believe he isn’t alone. Being in this place and having such intense emotional reactions to the memories must be messing with me, Keith thinks. The sooner I say goodbye, the faster I can get out of here.

Keith stares at the door in silence, chewing on his bottom lip. He can’t seem to bring himself to say anything; somewhere in his mind he still thinks if he stays quiet enough, maybe he’ll hear that voice again. Maybe he’ll hear Shiro.

He doesn’t.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Keith turns from the door to leave and freezes. Something moves in the shadows.

His heart stalls to a stuttering stop and his stomach drops. Keith can’t make out a shape but he can make out a large mass in the hallway on the other side of the staircase. It absorbs all the light surrounding it as if it were some sort of black hole, only shaped like a man. He opens his mouth to speak but can offer no sound to form around words. The atmosphere is suddenly so dense with malice that Keith can’t seem to even breathe.

A long, groaning creak comes from behind him; the sound of a door opening enticingly slow as if it were beckoning him to take a peek inside. Keith won’t take his eyes off the thing in front of him.

Without warning, his legs begin to move towards the stairs. They’re so close — if he could just get to them before —

His knees begin to buckle as gravity pulls him from below. Keith doesn’t dare take another step. The hollowed sound the soles of his shoes make against the wanned wood floors is as unwelcome as his presence. He can already feel it.

The hair on the back of his neck bristles; someone’s whispering — their breath like ice. He opens his mouth to speak once more and shuts it when the edges of naked fingertips press in around his shoulder, one by one.

Terror crawls down his spine as lips ghost his skin, leaving behind a trail of something wet and slippery, thick like vile sludge. He can feel stagnant water trickling down his neck, stalling in the wells of his collarbones. The fetid stench makes his stomach lurch and bile crawl up his throat.

The thing in the shadows begins to fold in on itself, its form shifting with a disgusting pop and sickening tear until it's lying flat on the floor. Spindly protrusions begin to form; one, two, three, four, more. Too many limbs for just a man. The spuming thing behind him tells him that it’s not. They begin to jut out and snap in half, the visceral crack of each one ripping through the silent space. The thing raises itself on the spindles and teeters forward, almost as if this is its first step. It jerks into another, and another, only stopping to sway for a fraction of a second before spasmodically twitching its way towards Keith at a speed too quick; too impossible.

He cries out as he attempts to lift his feet cemented to the floor to no avail. Keith is in full panic now, his chest getting tighter and tighter each time he tries to draw breath. He has to move fast if he’s going to escape before the thing on the other side of the staircase catches up but the thing behind him won’t allow him to. Keith’s body twists in agony as it tries to drag him backwards. He reaches out and grasps at air, desperately struggling to be free of its grip. His arm locks and his shoulder is torn out of his socket. Keith howls as white-hot heat sparks under his skin, igniting a fire in his synapses, momentarily blinding him.

Hollowed clacks against the wood approach with rapid succession, forcing Keith to bite through the searing pain. He opens his eyes but it’s too late, the creature is right in front of him, riding on its hind limbs.

“I want to go home,” Keith chants as if somehow these magic words and a few clicks of his heels will take him back to the sanctity of his own.

It begins to take the form of a featureless man with the exception of a wide, stretched grin. An acrid smelling darkness consumes Keith, leaving him utterly immobile. His skin is slick with sludge and sweat, his hair falls flat in damp ringlets. The entity behind him no longer tries to pull him away. Instead he feels it’s ghastly embrace, feels the cold skeletal hands slither underneath his t-shirt and slide across his stomach. He’s trapped between the two of them now and he can already feel his heart begin slow into a rhythmic stop as he allows himself to surrender. The creature’s grin widens until it breaks through the confines of its makeshift face, opening until the entire head becomes a gaping mouth lined with thin, razored teeth. Keith closes his eyes and exhales, bracing himself for what he knows is coming next.

He jolts as the thing’s pointed limbs pierce his flesh, sinking in through muscle and wedging between his ribs. He can hear his last breath being snatched away in a sharp gasp and heat from the creature’s breath as its mouth fits over his head and the creature’s teeth pierce his throat.

The last thing Keith hears is Shiro’s voice as he croons, “You’re already home.”

[architectnews]

Kindergarten Port, Stříbro

Kindergarten Port, Stříbro Building, Czech Republic Design Project, Architecture Images

Kindergarten Port in Stříbro, Czech Republic

7 Dec 2020

Kindergarten Port

Architects: XTOPIX – Barbora Buryšková, Pavel Buryška

Location: Stříbro, Czech Republic

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

Kindergarten Port With the exaggerated theme of the holiday by the sea, it is based on the location of the building on a smaller terrain, where the form evokes an ark ready for sailing. At the same time, the whole project is an initiating impulse for its surroundings. It takes the position of a flagship that shows a new direction for the development of the entire site, the now dismal transformation area of the former barracks representing a smaller brownfield adjacent to the boundary of the historic city center. Its location provides the prospects for future conceptual development of both, in terms of transportation infrastructure (new urban connections) and multiple programs.

photo © Photo_Land05

The land delimited by the kindergarten building lies in the proximity of family houses and larger apartment buildings, schools and food markets concentrated around the nearby bus station. With regard to the construction program and the required number of floors of the new building (max. 2 floors), the built-up area of the nursery is complementing its flatter neighbors, however, in the maximum effort to reduce the garden built up.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

It was the outdoor area of the nursery that became essential during the formation of the urban solution. The chosen figure reflects the requirement to create two separate outdoor playgrounds, while at the same time allowing all classes to enjoy the most valuable views towards the historic core of the city (reinforcing the solidarity with the place). Turning the building towards the surrounding buildings reflects the path of the future extension of Prokop Holý Street, the mass of the house is ideally open to the sun all over its outer perimeter, with a well-defined generous pre-school space.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

The dramatic slope in the southeastern part of the land is left to the outdoor activities carried out by children. In the flat section of the garden there are two playgrounds, each with a special character – one opens more to the sun, the other less. One focuses more on physical activities (scooter track), balance and creativity while the other prefers games, gardening and frolicking (lighthouse, slides and other playable elements).

Surrounded by a diverse garden, a compact building for the nursery school has been installed. A moderate mass solution with a receding floor responds by its conception to an otherwise varied environment, whose architectural value varies widely. Despite the tightness of the object’s mass, a spatial game takes place inside the house.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

Through the covered barrier-free lee, the user enters the entrance hall connected to the neighboring central atrium, which represents the heart of the building, around which all the premises of the nursery are divided into clean and dirty are united. In addition to the function of the dining room, the atrium serves as a gallery of children’s creative fruits, a venue for celebrations, or a gym.

The classes are oriented towards the sunny side, however there is no direct exposure due to the appropriate rotation, which could have caused overheating of the living rooms. The service facilities are situated at the northern facades so that they also have their own entrance, apart from the main entrance campus.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

The use of roofs above the 1st floor increases the area of the outdoor living. The covered terrace, accessible from the gallery above the central atrium, is designed in a paraphrase of an outdoor gazebo or garden house. The extensive roof garden, consisting of colorful landscape, slows down the water run-off during rainfall, and thus reduces the dust and overheat of the surrounding.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

Building interior concept The solution of the interior by means of intangible means finds the starting points by which each of the individual units stand out in the compact mass of the house. This is achieved mainly by means of colors. These define all building sub-files. The color difference of the operating units through the window openings gently leak into the exterior, but above all, inside the nursery, it provides easy orientation for its users i.e. children. They are easy to navigate in the building, and above all they identify with their own class. This graphic orientation helps them in doing that.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

Classes – Equipment solutions Each class consists of 4 rooms: playroom, sun loungers, washrooms and dressing room. A uniform style of solution permeates them all. The playroom, the center of children’s daily activities, is further divided into two imaginary (non-structurally separated) parts – a creative part and the game part.

photo © Photo_Land05

In the first of the above, the height-adjustable tables are situated in a rectangular shape which allow various compositions or orientations. Here, children have space for their own creation and self-realization.

photo © Photo_Land05

The second part of the class remains open to games. Each class accommodates a cabinet wall formed by a regular grid for storing aids and toys. By removing the individual fields of the grid, the smallest spatial units of the class are created within the wall, so-called mowers, where children can hide in their adventure walks.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

Kindergarten Garden Motto: The Kindergarten is located on the edge of the slope, on the edge of the mansion, on the promontory, on the edge of the sea… it’s time to sail…

The mass of the house divides the garden into two parts – northwest and southeast. The flatter northwestern part is dominated by a circuit for bouncing around two sand impact surfaces with “sand dunes” – hills and other thematic game elements. The garden is primarily designed for quieter games for younger children. Then landing surfaces can also be used like a sand pit for playing.

The northern part of the garden is relatively narrow and due to the steep slope between the kindergarten building and the new retaining wall on the site boundary, it is not suitable for the placement of classic game elements. In spite of this, various Robinson’s games can be played here – hide and seek between rocks and willow trees, beneath tree tops. In the future, shrub willows will create lodges and mazes from branches.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

To the east, the garden gradually expands to create a second play area. In relation to the house a plane is created, which is again used as a large sand pit. The transition from the house to the central play area is solved through a wooden deck/pier, which leads children to the main play element of the entire garden – a lighthouse with a slide, nets, a climbing wall and a spacious gallery. In the vicinity of the lighthouse, two wooden play houses are designed, one on the feet and the second on the ground.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

Especially the cottage on its feet evokes a seaside atmosphere. In the upper part of the garden, under the foliage of existing trees, is a shower with a wooden deck where children can cool off on hot days. Behind a group of existing trees is a hidden ‘classic’ hanging swing and a grass patch for ball games.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

In an effort to preserve the maximum of the existing terrain, there are two elevation levels in this part of the garden, while the lower one can be accessed by a slide or by wooden stairs. At the lowest level another play area is created, called Treasure Land. Near the ship wreckage, there are two chests, and “gems” scattered all around that have been forgotten by the pirates. In the easternmost corner of the garden is a children’s vegetable garden with flower beds, fruit bushes, compost, a garden tap with a hose connection and a fireplace with seating.

Both gardens are complemented by the planting pine trees, deciduous trees, climbers and shrub willows with silver leaves (a reference to the name of the town of Stříbro). Plant species are chosen to create a seaside atmosphere.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

Roof garden If the nursery building is a “ship” that carries small sailors to the desired destination, the roof garden is the upper deck where the captain has his binoculars set the course of the voyage. It also has a ship’s phone/silent mail to instruct other sailors and plenty of flags and signs to see where the wind is blowing into the sails.

The roof garden is a continuation of the individual classes, while extending the outdoor living space. The garden area consists of an extensive roof decorated with xerophilous plants. Local elevation of the terrain creates hills with higher ornamental grasses and fabric flags on masts, bird feeders and flags with maritime themes. The entire length of the walled railing of the roof garden is crowned by the lines of blooming vessels for ornamental grasses and creepers.

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

Kindergarten Port in Stříbro, Czech Republic – Building Information

Architects Studio: XTOPIX Jury award within Counstruction of the Year of the Pilsen Region 2018

Investor: The City of Stříbro Location: Prokopa Holého 1740, 349 01 Stříbro, Czech republic

Architects: Barbora Buryšková, Pavel Buryška

Garden Designer: Land05 Ateliér zahradní a krajinářské architektury Martina Forejtová Martina Havlová

Team: Barbora Buryšková Pavel Buryška Martina Forejtová Martina Havlová Michal Štěpař Lukáš Makovský Radek Prokeš

Graphic design: Artbureau Jakub Wdowka Tomáš Smrčka

Constructor: SWIETELSKY stavební s.r.o.

Design phase: 04/2016 Implementation: 09/2018 Site area: 2658 sqm Built-up area: 844 sqm Garden: 1814 sqm Public space: 940 sqn Enclosed volume: 7.975 m3 Usable area: 1.148,97 sqm Costs: 66.000.000 CZK

photo © Ondřej Tylčer

Photography: Ondřej Tylčer and Photo_Land05

Kindergarten Port in Stříbro, Czech Republic images / information received 071220

Location: Prokopa Holého 1740, 349 01 Stříbro, Czech republic, central eastern Europe

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[imagine-knb]

Three Reasons Why [Hyuuga Junpei] 5/5

People had started to trickle into the class room one by one, the slow minutes before class ticking by and warning the students that they would have to be ready to learn soon. It had been a long week for the students of Seirin, but Friday had finally made its long awaited appearance and talk of the weekend's activities to come were already floating around school. The gossip had been floating around all morning, but [Name] could care less what other people had decided to do for their weekend. She only had one thing on her mind.

Sitting idly in her desk and waiting for class to begin, [Name] was momentarily startled when a small container landed on her desk with a loud clatter. It bounced slightly against the fake wood, rattling the contents inside and alerting the female to what it was the container held. Picking up the small case of mechanical pencil lead, [Name] found her eyes wandering up towards the figure that was standing in front of her desk. Riko stood proudly in front of her friend, giving her a smug grin as she placed both hands on her hips in a confident pose.

"I thought I'd pay you back for letting me have some lead earlier this week," Riko explained before taking the seat next to [Name].

"You didn't have to do that, Riko," [Name] smiled, sliding the container back over in the basketball coach's direction. It was covered in pink flowers and had the picture of a cute teddy bear on the side of it. [Name] thought that it was definitely something Riko would own.

Giving her friend a playful frown, Riko proceeded to pick up the lead container before dropping it into [Name]'s open school bag where it would be lost in the clutter forever. [Name] could only sigh and shake her head at the brunette's behavior, though a smile did make its way onto her lips as she thanked her friend for the gift. Reaching down, she closed the zipper to her bag so Riko wouldn't try to drop more things into it. Heaven forbid the culinary challenged girl thought her friend could use more protein in her diet and decided to sneak in some seemingly harmless snacks. [Name] would be making emergency trips to the bathroom for weeks.

"By the way," [Name] cheerfully said, bouncing in her seat slightly as she turned her shining eyes to Riko once more. "It's the end of the week. Don't you have anything to say?"

"Yeah, I'm really glad it's Friday! I can have all weekend to work out the boys' training regime!" Riko was careful in giving [Name] a large grin, trying her best to hide her true intentions.

"Riko!"

[Name] started whining, flailing her arms in annoyance and nearly hitting Riko's arm as she took a swing at the brunette. Riko laughed at her friend's behavior, having only been teasing with her previous statements. Sticking her tongue out to show [Name] that she was merely joking, Riko waved her hands in the air a bit in hopes to restrain [Name] from taking more aggressive action. She had to physically latch her hand onto [Name]'s flailing arm in order to stop the girl from her small tantrum.

"I was joking! I swear!" Riko laughed, watching as [Name] finally calmed down. "I do have to admit though, he has been acting like a good boyfriend."

Settling back into her seat with a huff, [Name] crossed her arms in front of her chest. "It's more than just acting, Riko," [Name] defended. "Junpei really is a good boyfriend!"

"Yes, yes," Riko agreed halfheartedly, waving her hand dismissively in her friend's direction. "If that's what you say, though I'm not sure I'm as convinced as I could be."

"What more do you need as evidence?"

Riko shrugged, standing up from the desk so she could go find her own as their teacher walked into the room. "We'll talk more about this later, okay?" Turning on her heel, Riko skipped over to her own assigned seat.

[Name] turned her attention to the front of the classroom, her brows furrowing a bit in frustration. What more could she do to prove to Riko that Hyuuga was worthy of being a good boyfriend? He had lent her thing without seeking repayment, given her gifts, and even given her plenty of kisses—of both the safe and not safe for school varieties. How would she be able to show that Hyuuga was more than just the grumpy male Riko often had to participate with during basketball practice?

Snapping away from her thoughts as the teacher clapped her hands together to gain the class's attention, [Name] focused on the lesson ahead. She would have to ponder about this situation more at a later time.

Students cluttered the door as they all tried to make their way out of the classroom. The bell signaling for lunch had just sounded off, still echoing fresh in their minds as everyone tried to make their way towards the cafeteria. [Name] watched her classmates struggle, hanging back at her desk in order to avoid the lunch time rush. She could already hear Riko leaving her own desk to approach her.

"He needs to say it."

Confusion found its way into [Name]'s expression and she looked at Riko in question. "Who needs to say what?"

Rolling her eyes at her friend's forgetfulness, she yanked [Name] up by the arm. By now the crowd of students at the door had made their way out of the classroom and the female duo was left free to walk out safely. They walked through the hallway in the direction of the cafeteria, passing by many other second year classrooms along the way.

"Hyuuga," Riko clarified, pinching [Name]'s arm lightly. [Name] yelped at the contact, swatting Riko's hand away while glaring. "He needs to say it, then I'll believe it."

"Say what, Riko? You're being so cryptic!" [Name] pinched Riko's arm in retaliation, earning herself a squeakier yelp from the brunette.

"He needs to say he loves you! Have you guys even said it to each other yet?"

A sudden heat found [Name]'s face, coloring it a vibrant pink and she turned away from Riko to hide her embarrassment. Stuttering a bit for an answer, [Name] found herself fidgeting with the hem of her uniform blouse, pulling at a random piece of thread that was hanging loose off the fabric. She stopped walking altogether, causing Riko to falter in her step as well and the two of them paused in their journey. [Name] leaned against the wall, her eyes darting back and forth a bit before she swallowed the lump that had accumulated in her throat.

"Well, no… We haven't really said it," she admitted quietly.

"Haven't really said what?"

The two girls jumped as a new, more masculine voice interrupted their conversation. Peering over at the doorway that was next to the wall they were leaning against, the girls were surprised to see the very person they had been talking about. Hyuuga was leaning out the door, his face impassive as he looked at Riko and [Name]. He noticed the color on his girlfriend's face and, feeling a tinge of jealousy overcome him at the thought that someone else might be making her blush, he walked over to the duo.

"What's going on—"

"Hyuuga, how could you?!" Riko yelled, interrupting the bespectacled boy's sentence as she pointed an accusing finger at him.

"Hah?! How could I what?! Make sense when you speak!"

"You and [Name] have been dating for nearly five months and you haven't said you loved her yet!"

Silence hung in the air for a while between the trio of second years. [Name] had proceeded to hide her face in her hands, the embarrassed heat that had been there previously now crawling all over her body and making her feel uncomfortably warm. She was sure Hyuuga was also frozen in shock at Riko's accusatory words, not expecting them to fall from the brunette's lips.

"Junpei?" [Name] squeaked out in question, feeling her boyfriend wrap a protective arm around her shoulders.

"Idiot," Hyuuga mumbled, ignoring [Name]'s questioning glance as he talked to Riko. Looking closely, a small tinge of pink colored his cheeks and the tips of his ears, giving away his true emotions towards the situation. "She already knows I do. I don't need to say it. It's not any of your business anyway."

"Ugh, fine. Come on then, let's go get lunch before they run out of all the good stuff," Riko harrumphed, turning to continue her trek towards the cafeteria. She walked off, fully prepared to leave her slow friends behind if she needed to. "I told you he wasn't a good boyfriend, [Name]!"

Taking a step to follow behind her friend, [Name] was going to protest against Riko but was stopped once more by Hyuuga's arm tightening its grip around her shoulder. She looked up at the taller male once again in question, only to gasp in surprise as a pair of warm lips quickly found her own. Hyuuga pulled away from the kiss right before she could respond, leaving her wanting more.

"What was that for, Junpei?"

"I love you."

[Name] felt her body stiffen a bit in surprise at Hyuuga's confession, not expecting him to be the first one to say it. Letting the words sink in, she relaxed before standing on her toes to peck him lightly on the lips. A delicate smile was placed on her lips as she noticed his still pink cheeks.

"I love you too, Junpei."

He was definitely a good boyfriend. No amount of Riko's complaining could convince [Name] otherwise.

[millcdaze]

☂ distant love | jihope | g | 2,316w crossposted on ao3 @ flowerstems jihope bingo square: song inspired

❁

The night is yawning and Hoseok can see its belly full of stars through their window when Jimin shakes him until he rolls over. Hoseok doesn’t pretend to rub the sleep from his eyes, and he doesn’t fake a yawn as he sits up and holds his arms open.

“Jiminnie.” Hoseok’s eyes burn as he looks Jimin over. Which is worse: being unable to sleep or being pulled from sleep by terror? Jimin’s eyes are wild, his white jersey hangs off him and turns him into a ghost, and he’s shaking. It’s easy to see. Jimin is trying to make himself small, tuck himself behind his pillow, but Hoseok’s eyes adjusted to the dark hours ago and Jimin hasn’t been awake long enough to hide everything. “What’s wrong?”

Jimin drops himself onto the bed and drops his pillow to slide his arms around Hoseok’s waist, pushing his cold nose against Hoseok’s neck as he sighs out a yawn. “Nightmare.”

It’s always tough, guessing whether it’s okay to ask. Should he? Shouldn’t he? Knowing should be intrinsic, right? Some modern misconception of love, as though a glance tells all in any situation. Sometimes Jimin glances at him and Hoseok can’t guess what the hell Jimin is thinking. Those moments are terrifying; Jimin could be thinking anything. Hoseok combs his fingers through Jimin’s hair and listens to Jimin’s breathing even out.

“Same one?”

Jimin’s hum tickles Hoseok’s neck so Hoseok bites his lips together to force back a laugh. Knowing that it’s the same nightmare doesn’t mean anything because Jimin never told Hoseok what the nightmare is. It could be a different nightmare each night and Hoseok wouldn’t know; how could he? He only knows what Jimin tells him. He’s not psychic, but he trusts Jimin.

If only he could help him.

“You can talk to me, okay?” The typical reassurance, one that may benefit Hoseok more than Jimin these days. Still, Hoseok doesn’t know what else he can offer. He runs his hands along Jimin’s arms, up and down, easing the tension out of them and coaxing Jimin to relax.

“I know.” Jimin rubs his face into Hoseok’s shoulder and the action seems childlike. Comfort-seeking. “Thanks.”

Hoseok kisses the top of Jimin’s head. “How do you feel?”

Jimin sighs and it sounds miserable. “Like I’ll be awake for a long time.”

“All right.” Hoseok pats Jimin’s shoulders, smiling when he looks up. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Are you sure?” If Jimin is trying to hide his excitement he’s doing a terrible job of it. His face spreads with a smile and he’s already on his feet, bouncing a little despite the extra-sleepy look in his eyes. Hoseok’s chest always swells in that painfully sweet way when he sees that smile push its way onto Jimin’s face. Jimin is someone who deserves to bounce on the balls of his feet in excitement and smile at every given moment. Just simple and constant happiness. Nothing else. Is that too much to ask?

“The town is ours.” Hoseok gets to his feet and stretches out the stiffness from failing to trick his body to sleep. “It’ll be fun.”

Right now, they have four sets of clothes. Sleep clothes, home clothes, hang-out clothes, and decent clothes. Decent clothes are the ones without holes, the ones that their mothers would approve of them going out in if they still had a say in how either of them dressed. Naturally, they change out of their sleep clothes and into their hang-out clothes, the slacks paired with a shirt and a jacket to fight off the morning chill. Sometimes Hoseok considers ditching the jacket, but sometimes Jimin feels extra chilly so Hoseok pulls it on even though he feels overheated in his own skin.

Jimin leaves his key on the dresser between their beds so Hoseok locks the door behind them.

There are a few cars parked on either side of the road and Jimin kicks pebbles and crumpled plastic aside as they traipse down the sidewalk. Hoseok steps around a crack in the cement and says, “Let’s rearrange our room again.”

There’s a half-wall made of cement, separating drain from road, and Jimin climbs onto it while Hoseok steps onto the grass. He plucks a little yellow flower and some blades of grass sprouting from beneath the wall and looks up to find Jimin balancing on the wall and looking down at him with a bright smile that pinches his eyes into crescent moons and lets all his teeth gleam in the morning light.

Jimin laughs, says, “But we did that yesterday?” and Hoseok gives him the little flower. Jimin takes it, sniffs it then stoops down to carefully tuck it behind Hoseok’s ear. He springs back to his feet, wobbling long enough for Hoseok to get ready to catch him, then manages to regain his balance. Hoseok wants to tell him to get down, be more careful, but he’s got that damn sweet smile on his face again and Hoseok can’t bring himself to do anything but be ready for anything.

“Yeah, but I like it better when our beds are shoved together.” Hoseok takes two steps and waits, Jimin takes two steps and waits, and they keep doing that until they’re walking alongside each other.

Jimin is holding his arms out the way children do when they pretend to be aeroplanes, and he twists a few times and smacks the top of Hoseok’s head with his open palm. Hoseok scrunches his face and hisses at him, hand flying up to feel for the flower tucked behind his ear. Somehow it remains in place. “Then why’d you split them in the first place?”

The half-wall comes to an end and Hoseok holds his hand out for Jimin to grab and use as leverage to jump down. When Hoseok says, “I thought you’d sleep better without someone lying awake beside you,” Jimin looks up at him, hand still in his, then slides his fingers between Hoseok’s. Jimin’s fingers are cold and clammy but his palm is warm, and in that moment it’s all very confusing, so Hoseok starts swinging their arms and Jimin helps swing them higher.

“That’s not true,” Jimin says just when Hoseok’s mind starts to wander. Hoseok looks at him and Jimin stares him down as though Hoseok had issued some challenge and Jimin had already met it.

It’s confusing, especially since they’re holding hands somewhere that isn’t on their bedroom floor, but Hoseok may just understand what that look means. “I know that now.”

He may be misinterpreting it, too, but that’s all right.

They jump off the grass and onto the sidewalk, stumbling and jostling each other because they didn’t think to let go of each other’s hands. It hurts a little but they laugh it off until it’s numb and they’re walking down the next block. Jimin squeezes Hoseok’s hand and uses his grip to pull him closer until their shoulders bump so Hoseok steps ahead and pulls Jimin into a twirl. The movement is too jerky for Jimin’s sleepy limbs to follow so he ends up stepping on Hoseok’s toes, which hurts a whole damn lot even through his sneakers, but it was his idea so he hisses out a laugh when Jimin jumps off his feet with an apology. Still, Hoseok is not one to be deterred. It’s easier to dance when there’s a beat to follow, but they have the whole strip of sidewalk to themselves. There’s no way he’s giving up this opportunity to lay dance claim to the sidewalk with Jimin.

This time Hoseok steps close, grabs Jimin’s other hand with the bravery dancing always gives him, and Jimin’s eyes widen then curve with his smile. It’s as though Hoseok whispered some secret to him just like that and now Jimin is spinning them both around the corner, stepping onto the road and twirling when Hoseok lifts their hands over their heads.

Maybe this can’t be called dancing, this sleepy waltz-tango hybrid they’re both capable of moving to better, but they’re both tired in two different ways and no one is around to judge them so what does it matter? When they get to the end of the block they’re exhausted, leaning against each other and laughing so hard their cheeks hurt and their lungs ache with the lack of air.

They’re in the town’s playground; it’s dewy with the morning air and minimised by their height, but they can fit on the swings. The chains squeak when Hoseok tugs at it but Jimin daringly steps onto one and uses his momentum to twist the swing with him on it. It squeaks so loudly that Hoseok bites his mouth closed so he doesn’t shriek loud enough to wake the neighbourhood, and Jimin looks at him over his shoulder, teeth shining in the sunlight. “C’mon, gimme a little push!”

What else can he do? Hoseok pushes him, little nudges easing into full-fledged pushes, and Jimin’s hair is whipping around his head, a faded pink halo. It’s better like this, Hoseok still has the flower tucked behind his ear after all. They wouldn’t want it to blow away. Jimin snorts and doesn’t even pretend to believe the excuse.

There’s a lot to talk about, but there’s nothing they want to talk about right now. The sun rises, warming the air, and its viscous light drips over everything and lines it all silver. It could mean things will get better, but right now all it means is that they should head back before the town comes back to life. Isn’t it weird? That there’s a town that dies at night? Unheard of, right? No one ever talks about these towns anyway.

Jimin’s eyes get that faraway look when he jumps off the swing, so Hoseok gives him his jacket and lets Jimin lean on him all the way back to the apartment.

Hoseok locks the door behind them while Jimin shrugs out of their jackets and piles them on his bed, sitting on them with a yawn. The best pillows are the ones that aren’t pillows. Maybe he should get irritated, but years together have pushed him far past that to the point where he just pinches Jimin’s nose and is satisfied by the whine it pulls from him.

Their room only ever looks spacious when Hoseok is standing in the middle of it, too much space on all sides of him. Too much space between himself and Jimin who’s sitting on the bed pushed against the opposite wall and swinging his leg as he holds his palm out to Hoseok. Way too much space. Hoseok holds the flower by its stem and slides it from behind his ear, handing it off to Jimin who has pulled his journal from the top drawer of the dresser. He opens the book, flips carefully through pages of dried, pressed flowers, and finds a page near the middle of the journal with a space that will hold this new little flower snugly.

Next, he pulls out Hoseok’s old dictionary, fits a folded piece of paper on one of the ruined pages in the middle of the dictionary, and beams when Hoseok scoffs. It’s his old dictionary because Jimin kept using it until it didn’t belong to Hoseok anymore. Hoseok misses it, but he got a new dictionary last week to fill the hole made by its absence. The new dictionary doesn’t quite fit the specific dictionary-shaped hole in his heart: it’s too big so its corners stretch the hole open, but Jimin is happy he can use it to dry his flowers for his journal so Hoseok learnt to live with it. He can still read the entries at the beginning and end of the book anyway.

Jimin twirls the flower between his fingers by its stem and Hoseok blurts, “I think it’s actually a weed.”

“Yeah?” Jimin blinks up at him owlishly.

“Yeah, my sis said my mum said so. She knows all about plants.”

“It’s a pretty weed. I’m keeping it,” Jimin says as he positions the flower between two pieces of paper then closes them into the dictionary. He drops the dictionary on the dresser then rests Hoseok’s new dictionary on it, and Hoseok hisses a warning at him, don’t get any ideas. Jimin chortles, flipping through his journal, and Hoseok drops onto the bed beside him.

“Gonna take a nap?” Jimin has a habit of flipping through his journal when he’s sleepy.

“Yeah.” Jimin runs his fingers ever so carefully over the dried petals of a cherry blossom. “Lie with me?”

“Sure,” Hoseok rests his head on Jimin’s shoulder, patting his knee as Jimin presses his cheek into the crown of Hoseok’s head and slowly turns the page. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” Jimin flips through the journal twice, getting clumsier the sleepier he gets, and he’s been snoring softly for maybe two minutes by the time the book finally slips from his hands. Hoseok catches it, luckily, and stretches awkwardly to rest it atop the dresser without shaking Jimin too much. He pulls his arm from between them and cradles Jimin’s head as he eases him back onto the bed. Both their feet are still planted on the floor and they’ll probably be numb by the time Jimin wakes up, but Jimin’s finally asleep. He’d rather not wake him up. Hoseok twists onto his side and props himself up with his arm, reaching over to play with Jimin’s bangs and brush them out of his face when Jimin whines.

It’s seven in the morning and the sunlight can’t stretch far enough through their window to reach Jimin’s bed. Maybe Hoseok should drag his bed over this time. After Jimin wakes up. For now, Hoseok stretches onto his side and lies beside Jimin because that’s what he said he’d do. It’s his top priority.

[themomsandthecity]

5 Simple (and Kid-Friendly) Places This Stay-at-Home Mom Goes to Maintain Her Sanity

The morning has gone well. My little girl and I are cool. We move through our day like well-choreographed dance partners. Like a feather bouncing on the breeze, our movement appears effortless, light, without burden or rigidity. We are all flow. She is in her room playing. I am making lunch, pausing periodically amidst egg-salad preparations to check in on her because toddlers are like the ocean: you look away one minute and the next, a tsunami-size wave is coming at you. But not this day. She has turned her pink CD player on, and I can hear "Bamboo the Bear," her new favorite song. My eyes are greeted with a delightfully eccentric view. She has pulled her pink princess backpack on over her striped shirt and yanked yellow rain boots onto the wrong feet. Her unicorn hair clip is still in, but her unicorn pants are off. She is dancing around in her Doc McStuffins pull-ups, wielding a purple magnifying glass as she sings about a "giant panda from Central China." We have days like this, and when they come along, it's easy to feel grateful for the gift of being home with my girl. The season we are in is vital, fortifying, life-giving. It is when the emotional foundation of who my daughter will be gets established. To be given such a mission is a weighty privilege. Related 13 Habits of Highly Effective (and Sane) Stay-at-Home Moms And yet, I have often heard my current parenting stage - the 0 to 3 years - described by veteran parents as the "trenches." Maybe that's why you can so often feel disheveled and dirtied up, bruised and battered by the early work of shaping a human. I don't always get the feather-dancing-on-the-wind days. Sometimes, I get the tsunami. In truth, so often during this period of my life, I go out into the world mentally and emotionally frazzled, with paint or glue-stick residue on my fingers and my arms, food on my clothes, consecutive showerless days, my hair knotted up in the proverbial scrunchie-encircled bun on top of my head, no makeup. These are the ugly, beautiful days, days where my thoughts are perpetually scattered like candy exploding out of a piñata, and I am utterly beat down by the effort it takes to get out the door (dressing a toddler can be like attempting to thread a needle while someone continually smacks you in the face). But, my child is flourishing, changing, growing, an inevitable rite of passage that somehow manages to fill me with awe and wonder every day I witness it. It makes me happy. And yet, I've realized, it's good to keep a lookout for an oasis during those days when your existence feels like a desert. I have learned that these places of sanity are usually very ordinary and simple. 1. The Neighborhood Park One such place for me is a small park a few blocks from where we live. Almost entirely enclosed, equipped with a large sandbox and a slew of abandoned but still workable toys, we made this our go-to locale throughout the Summer. Sometimes she'd sit in the sandbox for 30 uninterrupted minutes, mixing up culinary masterpieces of sandy delight. There is a large hill for running up and down. Pine trees dot the top of it, providing great hiding spots for my wee one who does not know yet how to play hide-and-seek without being adorably conspicuous. The train runs nearby; always popular with the under-3 crowd. There are swings, stairs, and a slide all tailored to her size. A noticeable shift in her physical capabilities and capacity for independent play seemed to culminate at the same time during one of our visits to this park, marking it forever in my memory as the little urban paradise where, for the first time in a long while, I was able to enjoy a coffee, a thought, a long sigh, all to blissful completion. 2. Wherever Other Moms Are "Look mama! I have a swinging buddy!" my daughter observes on any given day, as another mom deposits her toddler-size companion into the swing next to us. The other mom smiles. Our kids are side by side, grinning, chattering away as the swings grind out their loud metal creaking. "How old is she/he?" one of us asks, invoking what is often a standard mommy conversation starter. The days when this typical playground preamble transitions into full-fledged sharing about our mutual adventures in toddler world, perspective is suddenly no longer elusive, I laugh a little easier. It's like the first breath you take in a stuffy room after opening the window. Fresh air comes rushing through, and the space you're in feels less confining. These encounters remind me that other moms are my fellow comrades, and they are indeed a refuge for me. Some are veterans of the toddler trenches, others still knee-deep in the muck as I am, but all are well-versed in the language of survival, which is, simply put, encouragement. The mom with older kids or more than one can tell me with a knowing authority, "honey this stage will pass." The mom who is like me, wrangling a 2- or 3-year-old day in and day out, can say "Yes! Me too!" With those few words of validation, I am plucked out of soul-crushing isolation. Related This Is What Stay-At-Home-Moms Actually Do - For the Men Who Just Don't Get It As one recent conversation with a neighborhood mom taught me, it is just as important to create opportunities for yourself to talk about things besides your kids. As we shadowed our girls running throughout the playground, we talked about writing, the craft of it, our mutual interest in memoir and short-story writing. It was invigorating, and I came away from my time with her energized and inspired. Similarly, another mom friend of mine and I recently decided to try and meet up once a month for coffee, brunch, or even just a long walk without the kids. Sounds like a recipe for sanity to me! 3. The Local Coffee Shop Frequenting neighborhood coffee shops and cafes has also been instrumental in drawing me out of the mommy doldrums. My daughter and I built up a ritual around visiting such places. I get a coffee, she gets a muffin. We got to know the people who worked in the cafes. We learned things about them, like how the owner of one shop keeps a stash of Yorkshire Gold tea - the same kind my husband drinks - to remind him of his fondness for England. Or the barista who is a fellow singer and performer of musical theater. These places have been like my stay-at-home-mom version of Cheers, "a spot where everybody knows my name," or at least recognizes my face. The brief conversations, while not always deep, still engender a feeling of community. Sometimes that's all it takes to set me right again. 4. Outside on a Rainy Day The weather can often provide a place of refuge if you are willing to let it impress its natural pause on you. Travel becomes harder. Schedules get interrupted. Days like this are often declared pajama days. We hole up and build with blocks, or color, or crank out art projects with construction paper and glue. But if we do venture outside, our activity is slowed down. The world beyond our door is wet with snow or rain, limiting what can be done. But the limitation is where I find my peace. Rainy days are my favorite example of this right now. My little love's wearing and using her rain boots. And thanks to an affinity with Peppa Pig, muddy puddles are a must on a cold, wet day. We walk around the block slowly, chatting to one another, watching for puddles to splash in. It is a leisurely stroll without the pressure to entertain. I can breathe in the smell of the rain, the brisk cold of the air. I can listen to her tell me stories in her broken toddler English about the world as she sees it. I look on as she throws her 34-inch frame into a jump. She watches her boots lift off the ground and crash into pooled water. Bits of leaves, ejected from their previous homes by Autumn's arrival, fly every which way with the collected raindrops. We are content and unhurried. Related The 1 Thing to Consider Before Leaving Your Job to Be a SAHM, According to an Expert 5. The Library Sometimes, refuge can be found and sanity maintained in spaces designed with you and your kiddo in mind, like the children's area at your neighborhood library. The activities they provide, usually free and open to the public, bring in the community at large, fostering a cheerful, warm environment. We are all here, together, in the service of our children who simply want to play, explore, and be read to. I love going to the library. Beyond the gratitude I feel toward the communal, civic willingness to invest in my child, I am filled with nostalgia for my own childhood. I recall fondly a time when the Brown County Library, in my home town, Green Bay, WI, was indeed a place of refuge because it possessed one of the things I loved best as a child and still do: books. Books of every kind. Books with pictures, books with chapters. Books that I could check out over and over and over again. When I see how excited my little girl is by the same collective literary presence - one we have unlimited access to - I feel confident I am passing on a valuable pastime that will keep her company for years to come. I hope I am also passing on the importance of self-care. I hope my demonstration of this over time is consistent enough so she will see how everyday things, everyday encounters, can sometimes take you out of the quotidian of life. In those moments, it may not seem like much is happening. But like a seed in a pot of earth, waiting in stillness, the good stuff eventually gets awakened and really starts to bloom. http://bit.ly/2AHEJFN