#antique white bedroom furniture

[shiftingbikeculture]

Traditional Bedroom in New York

Inspiration for a mid-sized timeless guest bedroom remodel with a dark wood floor and brown walls but no fireplace

[whattheheckfestival]

Traditional Bedroom in New York Inspiration for a mid-sized timeless guest bedroom remodel with a dark wood floor and brown walls but no fireplace

[written-in-wonder]

Wainscoting Bedroom (New York)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Who doesn't love a perfectly preserved time capsule? This 1968 beauty in Rockford, IL is like stepping back in time. 4bds, 4ba, $450K.

The small entrance has tiled flooring to protect the carpet that runs all through the house.

Why is it always green? This was a dramatic home when it was new- stone fireplace, sunken living room, and wrought iron railings were the height of fashion.

The living area is huge. Note the large stone bench matching the fireplace and the cornice boards that discreetly hide the unsightly curtain rods.

The fireplace stone continues and has a huge mirror. In the corner is shelving and 2 steps up to the dining room.

The dining room has dated curtains that the buyer will inherit. I love the kitty-corner table. That was a common placement in mid-century style.

Next comes the kitchen. Actually, they must've updated it b/c I don't think that 2-tone cabinets were a thing yet. But, the ditzy, small, busy print of the wallpaper with matching shades was definitely the style. Note the original avocado dishwasher and dust shelving above the upper cabinetry, that was later replaced by soffits.

Wait a minute, I'm seeing props here- there's a new dishwasher and new ovens, but they kept the old avocado ones. I wonder if they work or, if it's just nostalgia. There are also 2 cooktops. Wow, they really preserved everything.

Look at the green glass.

Large laundry room off the kitchen.

Oh, look, an avocado washer/dryer set. This is amazing. And, look at the old sink. I hope someone who loves it, buys it, b/c it was so lovingly cared for.

Nice large everyday dining area has a pony wall separating the family room. So much green everywhere. I wonder if this set came that way or if they painted it.

Another stone fireplace flanked by shelving. Knotty pine walls, and folding shutter doors- all fashions of the past. I can't believe that they have the Colonial furniture that was so popular at the time. Even though it was all the rage, you don't see it around anymore. According to the listing, there is going to be an estate sale, so this furniture will be available.

The primary bedroom is pretty big. Geez, there's carpeting everywhere and some of it is looking gnarly.

It has an en-suite, which is unusual. Look at that fancy cabinet. Green laminate counter, too.

This bedroom is also pretty big. Look at the consummate girl's white bedroom furniture of the mid-century.

The den has a big old map probably with countries that don' t even exist anymore.

More bedrooms on the 2nd fl.

Oh, look at that! A hope chest! They were popular for a teenage girl to receive as a gift. Then, she would put in blankets, etc., in the hopes of one day getting married and using them. I can't get over the historic furniture in this place.

And, then they've got a big family room up here. Wow, this house has so much furniture and tchotchkes.

Winter? No problem. Just set the lawn furniture up in the basement.

There's also a finished part of the basement. This is a craft room, and there is also a canning room.

Look at the antique freezer on the right. This place is a museum.

This part of the basement isn't finished even though it has a brick fireplace. No matter, they still used it as a family room, anyway.

According to the listing, this is a 2 car garage, called a "cottage garage," b/c I guess it looks like a residence.

This cool log cabin on the property is used as a playhouse, according to the listing.

Yeah, but look at it, it's really a residence.

There's a lot of land, 3.50 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/6151-Newburg-Rd-Rockford-IL-61108/5537324_zpid/

[yourfatherlucifer]

Sticky Situation (HJ)

Ghoul!Hongjoong x afab!reader

Summary: after receiving a dare from your friends, you went into the ‘haunted’ mansion as everyone says, but is it really haunted though? Something is watching you..

Warnings: NSFW MDNI, messy intercourse, slight stalking, dumbification, slime/goo play, ghost stuff, mention of death, aphrodisiac cum, rough sex.

Genre: Smut

AU: Paranormal

WC: 1.6k

Rated: R

Tags: @stardragongalaxy here is your secret admirer request!

Also there will be no part two cause I struggled lol

“Come on, you guys really cannot believe it’s haunted! Ghosts don’t exist!”

Your friends had rolled their eyes at you, “You don’t have to believe us, which is why we are daring you to go inside.”

You had stood in front of a large lavish yet run down mansion, it looked like it was straight from the 1700's, but it was still beautiful. It didn't exactly look quite abandoned but also looked like no one lived there. Maybe someone kept maintenance of it.

Approaching the vast doors, they creaked open with just a soft touch, “Hello?” You called out, like an idiot. Have you not learned from the horror films?

The place was beautiful on the inside, but was clearly abandoned, yet in pristine shape. Who was keeping it so mummified?

There was a grand staircase that winded up to the second floor, which was lined with old renaissance paintings, covered in yellow varnish.

A lot of furniture was covered with white cloth, which you assumed was to protect them from the dust already accumulating.

Dead eyes appeared in the darkness, watching you from afar yet you hadn’t noticed.

The air was musty and smelly, smelled of slight death and blood.

You made your way through double doors and found an almost pristine kitchen with antique appliances, the fridge, the stove, etc. All early eras.

Slipping out of the kitchen into the next room, you found a secret staircase, it seemed like it led to the basement, but as you descended down the steps, the stench of death kept heavily increasing. So, you quickly ran back up the stairs and slammed the door shut, covering your mouth as you tried not gag.

The eyes that watched your every move, quietly chuckled. An evil like smirk forming on its face.

Did you walk into a serial killer's hideout? Why did it smell like pure death? You wanted to leave so badly but your friends made a bet you wouldn’t last long, through the night even so.

You covered your mouth and left the area with teary eyes. You made your way upstairs to the second floor, the winding steps making you dizzy.

You could only open doors that were unlocked and there weren’t many. It was as if someone was trying to prevent you from exploring. You found the master bedroom, or what seemed to be the master bedroom. It was very large. The bed looked very dusty and unused. Looks like this is the room you’ll be staying in tonight, you thought to yourself.

Making your way to the bed, the floor creaked beneath you. You winced with every step and hoped this home was truly empty and was just an old place with dead bodies.

When you sat on the bed, you noticed some type of slime was excreting from it. You shot up from the mattress and began frantically wiping your pants, clearly grossed out.

“What the fuck!” You gagged, hands now covered in the slime.

You couldn’t even begin to think of where it came from, let alone excrete from an old bed.

As you went to leave the room, the door slammed shut in front of you. You let out a loud scream and fell to the floor, slightly bruising your tailbone from the fall.

“Where’d you think you’re going, pet?” A voice mocked you in the darkness.

You gasped in fear as you stood up to your feet, running to the door. Pulling on the handle that just wouldn’t budge. You cried out in frustration as you began to feel trapped and feared for your life.

“Awe, you think you can leave, oh-precious-life?” The voice began to stalk towards you.

You whipped around to face a man, or what looked like a man, his deathly pale skin, wide brimmed hat and a long black coat approached you with a scary grin.

“Get away from me!” You backed into the door.

“That’s very cute. You aren’t going anywhere.”

As he came closer, you could inspect his features, which you came to realize he is very attractive, but still scared you to the very bone.

His black tipped fingers came to brush against your cheek, goo oozing from the tips.

His chest pressed closer against yours, the hat brim stopping him from pushing even closer, “You smell delicious.” His tongue swiped across his lips, “I love the scent of fear.”

You whimpered as he threw the hat across the room. His nose falling to your neck crevice, inhaling your scent. The close proximity of this attractive..man, was arousing you greatly.

He let out a loud cackle, “Ooh, never have I had a human get aroused just by this!”

You gripped onto his coat as he began licking strips along your skin, taking in the flavor of human flesh.

He chuckled once again at your desperation, “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, human?”

Hongjoong pressed his hardening bulge against your thigh.

‘What are you doing?” You whined as his hands began to roam your body.

“I’m going to fuck you, is that not what you want?” He whispered into your ear, nipping on the lobe.

His hands began to roam your body, “I can clearly smell how much you want this.”

His two hands came up to your shirt, grabbing the middle and ripping it in half. The pieces hang there from your shoulders. You yelp in protest, heat flooding throughout your body.

“You’re never gonna want another human cock after this.” An evil like cackle spilled from his lips with a toothy and mischievous

grin.

His teeth pierce the skin between your neck and shoulder, not drawing blood but practically attaching himself to you with a mark.

He grabs you from under the thighs and hikes you against the wall, tearing your feet from the floor, to wrap around his waist. His hardened cock now pressed against your clothes and wet cunt.

Hongjoong giggled in your ear, “You know, I haven’t fucked a human in so long, not since I died,” He pulls his face away and takes one boob in his hand, the black slime on his fingers left behind a slimey trail down your breast valley. His claw-like fingernails jabbed into the plush skin, drawing blood and pain. He didn’t care for your cries because he knew you wanted this just as much as him.

He brought his pale lips to yours, smashing them together. He then carries you to the unused bed, practically throwing you on the mattress. He uses his hands to rip open your pants, tossing the now ruined fabric across the room.

You quickly scrambled to the headboard, clearly embarrassed you were in your underwear in front of him.

A crazy grin spread against his cheeks as he grabbed your ankles, yanking you down the mattress and back to him, “Why do you continue to try and run from me?” his hand ran down your waist, to your thighs, then back up to your underwear, snapping the band against your hips.

Hongjoong buries his face against your clothed cunt, taking in the scent of your arousal, “Fuck, smells so good.”

You whine as he pulls down the cloth, tossing it over his shoulder. His long and pointed tongue darts out to lick the slick that leaked out of your hole. He throws your legs over his shoulders and pressed his nose against your clit. His tongue playing and teasing the tight hole, he wanted to prepare it for what he referred to as his, ‘monster sized cock,’ when he wasn’t wrong. He is a monster and his cock is huge.

“Gonna fuck you so good.” He mumbled into your cunt as his tongue swirled around your walls, his fingers digging into the back of your thighs. Then slipped his free hand underneath, and slipped a finger in just below his wet muscle.

When he was done playing with you, he removed himself from you and let your legs down.

“Ready for my cock, pretty one?”

You whimpered with a nod, spreading your legs to reveal your puffy and used cunt, “Please, I want your cock so bad.”

He laughed and took the base of his cock and lined himself up, the tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration as he pushed in, “Little human is so pathetic for me. How cute.”

The second his cock reached the hilt, you already felt fucked dumb. He was just that big, his cock so thick and long in size. The best you’ve had.

“Gonna cry?” He grunts as thrusts his hips up, “Gonna cry like a little baby? Can’t handle my cock?” He rests his arms by your head, “Well too bad, you’re gonna take it, you’re gonna love it and you’re gonna beg me for more.”

He sat back on his knees, thrusting into your cunt, while his hands excreted ectoplasm onto your body, the stick feeling was heavy and gross but you couldn’t focus on that. Not while his cock jackhammered into you, barely putting any effort into it yet he had you seeing stars.

He flipped your body around, so that your head could be pushed into the dusty mattress. He raised your hips up, but also rested a hand on your lower back.

You let out a scream as this angle let him reach you even deeper than before, his cock seemed to stretch you out even more if that was possible.

“I’m gonna cum so fucking deep in you, you’ll never want to leave me here. You’ll be mine forever.” His hand gripped your hip so tight, that his nails drew blood and left behind bruises.

“Please, inside, please!” The mattress mumbled your words but he understood you clearly.

He leans down to your ear, “Gladly.”

His black cum spurt out in all directions inside of you. It definitely didn’t feel normal but it heated you up and felt like you needed more. You wanted more, “Oh fuck, I need more. Fuck me more. Please.” You whined and looked back at him.

“That’s so funny, I told you that you’d beg for more, pretty one.”

[creator1mpersonator]

Through the Mirror

00. Prologue

Inspired by Coraline, reader is gender-neutral, no use of Y/N.

This new home was painfully dreary. Based on the copper-colored bricks that built up the walls and the immensely overgrown shrubbery around it, you assumed this was a pre-war building. There were neighboring houses, but they all looked as copper, lifeless, and boring as yours. As you assisted your parents unload the U-Haul, you saw a little girl ride past on her little bike with the expression of a Victorian child—poor thing, so young and living in a place with the mental stimulation of the color beige. Your father procured the key from one of his pockets, slotting it into the rusty doorknob and turning it. The door simply opened by itself, and you heard him mumble something about fixing it to himself before entering. Your mother followed, waving away cobwebs with her hand. You remained outside for a moment, and it wasn’t until you heard your mother shriek your name that you picked up a box and scampered inside.

The inside of the home was, predictably, as depressing as its exterior. Dusty, with cobwebs along walls like terrible little decorations. You screamed when you saw a cockroach scuttle past your feet, its wretched antenna going this way and that before fleeing out the open front door.

“Bugs, great. Just what I need.” Your mother muttered in a rather disgruntled tone, arms crossed over her chest. She seemed even more upset by this move than you were, even if it was supposed to be good for her and your father’s job. Not that you even knew what it was that they did.

“Nothing an exterminator can’t fix, honey.” Your father said in a cheerful tone, ever the optimist.

“Exterminators cost money. Money we don’t have.” Your mother retorted, killing another roach beneath her shoe with a rather cruel stomp that sounded throughout the empty house.

“You’ll see,” your father began, “things will be just fine.”

“Yeah, right.”

Your father sighed, and you gave him a sympathetic smile before setting the box you were holding down on the dusty hardwood floors.

“___” your mother called out, “go pick out your room.”

You nodded, walking past your at-odds parents and heading up the stairs. There was an old carpet that lined the hallway, like in picture books. It was a faded blue and you think there were once flowers printed on the fabric. You decided to walk on the regular hardwood instead when the carpet began to squish under your feet. You don’t think the carpet was supposed to do that. 

You peered into different rooms, making keen observations about each one that would help you pick out the least worst one. One room had a hole in the floor, your mother was gonna blow a gasket when she saw it. The next room sent you running out of it when you saw the cockroaches gathered around like a council of terrible little things. The third room you saw was the one you picked. Compared to the last two, it wasn’t in a state of disrepair nor did it make your skin crawl. It was bland because of course it was, but you figured some paint, furniture, and decorations could fix it right up. Two windows let natural light inside your bedroom, there was a closet with bi-fold doors, and a mirror.

The mirror caught your attention the most. It was undoubtedly an antique, the glass of the mirror surrounded by a golden border with swirling decals carved into it. It was beautiful and vaguely reminded you of the Evil Queen’s mirror in Snow White. 

“Mom!” You called out, “Come up here!”

You heard footsteps come up the stairs, a disgusted sound when the carpet squished beneath her foot, an angry sigh at the hole in the floor, and a shriek when she found the council of roaches before she finally found your room.

“Couldn’t have told me what room you were in?” She sighed, arms still crossed.

“Sorry.” You said, before quickly changing focus, “check out this mirror.”

Your mother glanced at the mirror briefly, eyebrow raised.

“It’s creepy”

“I think it looks pretty.” You defended.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you don’t wanna get rid of that one and just get a new mirror?” Your mother asked.

“I’m sure.”

She sighed.

“As long as you’re happy, bug.”

You wouldn’t begin to understand the trouble that mirror would get you into until that night.

[infamous-light]

You Belong to Me Ch. 2

Alcina Dimitrescu x F! Reader

Ch. 1

AO3: You Belong to Me

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu's obsession knows no bounds as she becomes increasingly possessive over you. Will you succumb to her dark embrace, or find a way to break free before it's too late?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Yandere, possessive/obsessive behavior

The winding hallways of Castle Dimitrescu seemed to stretch on endlessly, leading you deeper into the heart of the imposing structure.

The palms of your hands, once steady, now grew cold and clammy as you approached Lady Dimitrescu's bedchambers. You were about to begin your new role as her personal servant, a position that no one else has held before. Your mind buzzed with questions, doubts, and uncertainties.

What if you made a mistake? What if you failed to live up to her expectations?

The weight of this responsibility pressed down on you like a leaden blanket, threatening to overwhelm you before you had the chance to even begin. You swallowed hard, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach.

Eventually, you found yourself standing in front of a set of double wooden doors, looming over you like a menacing shadow. Taking a deep breath, you raised your hand and knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the silent hallway.

“Come in.” Her voice, low yet authoritative, carried through the barrier of the door.

With a trembling hand, you reached out to grasp the polished golden handle, feeling its cool metal beneath your fingertips.

Here we go.

Then, you pushed the door open.

Stepping inside, you were immediately enveloped in the grandeur of Lady Dimitrescu's bedroom.

The room exuded an air of timeless elegance, each piece and decor chosen to reflect the aristocratic taste of its owner. Silk draperies hung down in graceful folds, their deep crimson hue contrasting sharply with the white furniture. Near the back, a grand, four-poster bed was pressed against the wall, its velvet canopy cascading down like a waterfall of blood. The bed itself was lavishly covered with plush, satin pillows and a heavy, fur-lined duvet. To the side of the bed stood a nightstand, its surface organized with an array of books and papers.

A large fireplace took up the right side of the bedroom, its mantlepiece adorned with an assortment of antique trinkets. Hanging above the mantlepiece was an old vintage clock, its hands steadily ticking along.

As your eyes continued to roam her bedroom, they finally landed on Lady Dimitrescu herself. She was seated at her vanity, delicately combing through her dark hair. You almost jumped out of your skin when her piercing gaze, framed by long lashes, locked onto yours through the reflection of her vanity mirror.

“Ah, there you are,” Lady Dimitrescu said as she set her hairbrush down. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

You bowed your head, trying to keep your breathing steady. “My Lady.”

She rose with fluid grace, her movements both mesmerizing and intimidating. Her towering presence filled the room, and you could feel the heat of her gaze lingering on you, appraising you. Each step she took was deliberate, her long nightgown whispering against the wooden floor as she approached you.

“Do you know,” Lady Dimitrescu purred, lifting your chin with a single, bare finger, forcing you to meet her eyes. “How much I despise being kept waiting?”

Your heart raced, a rapid staccato in your chest. Glancing to your right, you saw the time on the clock.

9:01 A.M.

Your hands fidgeted slightly, and your voice came out a bit shakier than you would have liked. “I’m sorry, my Lady. It won’t happen again.”

A slow, knowing smile curled her lips, and she traced her finger along your jawline, sending tingles down your spine.

“No, it won’t,” she murmured. “Because I have very specific expectations for you,” she leaned in closer, her lips grazing your ear as she whispered. “And I expect you to meet them.”

“Yes, my Lady.” You said quietly.

Lady Dimitrescu pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again.

“Good,” she said, her smile widening. “Now, I want you to draw me a bath. Make sure the water is just right – hot enough to steam, but not so hot that it scalds. Add a generous amount of lavender oil. I find it most relaxing in the morning.”

You nodded, eager to get this over with, and turned toward the adjoining bathroom. As you prepared the bath, the sound of water filling the large, circular tub mingled with the soft rustle of her nightgown as she moved about her bedroom. Reaching for the small bottle of lavender oil, you uncorked it and let a few drops fall into the steaming water. You swirled the water with your hand, dispersing the oil, and then straightened back up. You couldn’t shake the feeling of her eyes on you, watching your every move.

When the bath was ready, you turned around to find her completely nude by the doorway. Her eyes held yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You quickly averted your gaze, feeling a rush of heat creeping up your neck. Her lips curled into a playful smirk.

Lady Dimitrescu walked past you with a grace that belied her towering stature. You could feel the heat radiating off her as she passed, a mixture of fear and fascination rooting you to the spot. She paused briefly at the edge of the tub, casting a sidelong glance in your direction, her eyes glimmering with amusement. With an almost theatrical flourish, she dipped one long, slender leg into the water, followed by the other. The water rippled and sloshed around her as she sank into the depths, her body disappearing beneath the surface until only her head remained above the water.

She reclined against the side of the tub, letting out a sigh of contentment as the warmth soothed her skin. Unsure of what to do next, you began to step away, your movements hesitant.

“I didn’t say you could leave, now did I?” Lady Dimitrescu said, her voice low and silky.

You immediately stopped in place and lowered your head.

“No, my Lady.” Your response was barely above a whisper.

“Come closer.” Her command was firm but soft.

You swallowed thickly, the tension between you two palpable, hanging in the air like a dense fog. Her eyes darkened, and for a moment, you felt like prey caught in the gaze of a hunter. Despite her relaxed pose, there was a coiled strength about her, a sense of latent power ready to spring.

You must have hesitated a second too long, because without warning, she reached out, her long fingers wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that left no room for resistance. She then tugged you down to the water's edge in one swift move.

“Don't be afraid, darling,” Lady Dimitrescu whispered. The warmth of her touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your skin tingle. “I won’t bite. Much.” The corner of her lips quirked up slightly, as if amused by her own joke.

Personally, you didn’t find it very funny.

Her fingers danced lightly over your wrist, her touch featherlight yet deliberate. Her index finger came to rest over your pulse point, feeling the rapid beat of your heart. She drew you in closer, her presence overwhelming and intoxicating.

“You’re such a nervous little thing, aren’t you?” she cooed, her voice a soothing lullaby tinged with amusement. “But perhaps a little fear can be exhilarating, don't you think?”

Your throat went dry, the words stuck like sandpaper as you tried to respond. “I-I suppose so, my Lady.”

Lady Dimitrescu chuckled, a predatory gleam in her eyes.

“There’s nothing quite like the taste of fear, the thrill of the unknown. I quite enjoy playing with my food, though,” she paused, going quiet. Just as quickly as the intimacy had risen, it vanished. “You’re much more than just a plaything.”

Her eyes glinted with a dangerous light as she studied you.

“Help me wash my hair.” She demanded quite suddenly.

You knelt there, slightly dazed, trying to process the whiplash of emotions she had just put you through.

The shift in her demeanor was startling but you didn’t have time to dwell on that as you rose from your position by the bathtub. You walked over to a shelf lined with a variety of shampoo bottles and grabbed a few. You turned around and made your way back over, standing behind her. The scent of sandalwood and peppermint hit your nostrils as you poured a generous amount into your palm. Gently, you began to massage the shampoo into her hair, your movements careful and precise. Lady Dimitrescu leaned back into your touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as you worked the lather through her locks.

You couldn’t help but wonder how this had become your life.

***

You could hear the faint sounds of water splashing as Lady Dimitrescu prepared to emerge from her bath. You stood just beyond the threshold, made to wait by the doorway.

After what felt like an eternity, she stepped out with a fluffy towel wrapped around her large frame. She regarded you with a burning gaze, her golden eyes shining with a mixture of expectation and impatience.

“Go get my dress.”

“Yes, my Lady.” You replied promptly.

You moved toward the wardrobe that stood against the wall and opened the doors to reveal a multitude of white dresses. Carefully, you lifted one of the dresses from its hanger, feeling the fine fabric between your fingers. As you turned back toward Lady Dimitrescu, she allowed the towel to slip from her body, revealing her alabaster skin, smooth but slightly scarred. You looked away respectfully and focused on the task at hand, though the image of her naked body remained vivid in your mind.

She walked over to her dressing area and began to slip into her undergarments. Holding the dress out for her, you watched as she stepped into it, her long legs sliding effortlessly through the garment. Once the dress was in place, she adjusted it meticulously, ensuring every detail was perfect.

“Help me with the laces.” She instructed, turning her back to you.

The long, delicate laces of the dress dangled down her back, waiting to be tied. You hesitated for a moment, realizing her height made it difficult to reach the top laces. Lady Dimitrescu noticed your hesitation and glanced over her shoulder.

“Grab the step ladder in the corner of the room.” She directed, her tone patient but firm.

Nodding, you walked over to the corner and retrieved the step ladder, placing it carefully behind her. You began to climb the ladder and once you reached the last rung, you found yourself almost at eye level with the back of her head. With steady hands, you began to weave the laces through the eyelets, pulling them snug but not too tight.

As you worked, the proximity to her felt both intimidating and intimate. It made your hands shake slightly but you forced yourself to push through it. A moment later, you tied them off with a final, careful knot.

Stepping down from the ladder, you took in the sight of Lady Dimitrescu now fully dressed, her dress hugging her form perfectly.

She turned to you, her gaze steady. “I must say, you did an excellent job.”

You blinked rapidly a few times. The unexpected compliment caught you off guard.

“Uh - thank you, my Lady.”

She clasped her hands together, a pleasant smile spreading across her face. “Now, let's attend breakfast, shall we? My daughters are already waiting for us.”

Uncertainty arose within you. You’ve never worked in the kitchen before, but you don’t have much of a choice. You reassured yourself that you're resourceful and quick to learn.

“Of course, my Lady. I'll have the preparations made immediately.”

She let out a soft, almost amused sigh. “No, you misunderstand. I would like for you to have breakfast with me and my daughters.”

The words hung in the air, their weight settling heavily in the bedroom. The blood drained from your face. The thought of being around all three of her daughters at the same time made your heart almost stop beating.

“What?” You croaked out before you could stop yourself.

Lady Dimitrescu's eyes flashed dangerously. The space seemed to shrink around you as she took a deliberate step closer, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Did I stutter?” Her voice was icy.

“N-No, my Lady. I apologize for my misstep.”

She continued to regard you with that menacing glint in her eyes.

“Good,” her tone softened slightly but lost none of its edge. “Then let's not waste any more time, yes?”

You nodded quickly. She turned away, seemingly satisfied with your response.

“Come.”

You followed after her, trying to keep pace with her long, purposeful strides. The morning would be like no other, and you could only pray that you would emerge from it unscathed.

***

The grand double doors of the dining room were pushed open by Lady Dimitrescu with a flourish.

As you stepped inside, your eyes immediately fell upon her daughters, gathered at the far end of the long, polished dining table. They looked almost serene under the sunlight streaming in through the tall, arched windows but you knew better. Apprehension tightened around your chest like a vice. Memories of their previous acts of cruelty flashed through your mind. You had seen the aftermath of their games, the bruised bodies, and the blood-stained floors, and now, being in their presence, you felt like a gazelle being dragged into the lion’s den.

You forced your legs to move, stepping further into the dining room. Each step felt heavier than the last as the sisters' gazes followed you, as if sizing you up.

Bela, the eldest, sat to the right of her mother's chair, her blonde hair falling in soft waves around her face. Her eyes, a bright shade of gold, locked onto yours as you neared the table. There was an intensity to her gaze, flickering over you with a cold, calculating look that made goosebumps travel across your arms. Though you had only seen her in passing, you knew enough about Bela to be cautious. She wasn't as outwardly violent as her two younger sisters, but she could still dish out a swift punishment just like her mother.

Across from her, Cassandra was sprawled lazily in her chair as if it were a throne. She regarded you with a smirk, her eyes glittering with amusement. There was a predatory air about her, a sense of dangerous playfulness that set your nerves on edge. Cassandra seemed to be savoring your discomfort like fine wine.

Next to Bela, Daniela sat in stark contrast to her sisters. She greeted you with a wide, almost manic smile, her eyes alight with an unsettling enthusiasm. Unlike Bela's cool demeanor or Cassandra's mocking danger, Daniela's energy was chaotic and unpredictable. You were grateful that you never had to interact with her either since you were first brought to this castle.

You flinched as Lady Dimitrescu’s hand suddenly landed on your left shoulder, her grip solid but gentle. She guided you around the table and led you to an open seat next to Cassandra.

“Good morning, girls,” Lady Dimitrescu greeted as she took her seat at the head of the table. “I apologize for the delay.”

“No worries, mother. I’m happy that you’re able to be here with us.” Bela said, her voice warm. You could have sworn you’d seen her eyes sparkle with fondness as she glanced at her mother.

But your attention soon shifted to the food in front of you. The table itself was a sight to behold. A colorful assortment of freshly cut fruits and warm bread rolls were all laid out before you. Bowls of creamy porridge, still steaming, were placed around the table as well. It's a feast fit for royalty, a sight you never imagined you'd see in your life. As you grew up, meals were meager, often consisting of whatever scraps could be put together. You remembered the days when even a simple loaf of bread was a rare treat.

The doors near the back of the dining room suddenly swung open, and two maids stepped out, pushing a silver cart. The cart held a few wine glasses and one large, red wine bottle. As the maids approached, their eyes met yours. You saw a flicker of emotions – shock, confusion, and concern – pass across their faces but they quickly masked their expressions and continued with their duties. Each glass was carefully filled to just the right level. As soon as that was done, they immediately left without another glance in your direction.

You didn’t recognize them, but the weight of their stares left a lingering discomfort in your gut. You could already hear the whispers that would soon circulate among the staff. What will Catalina think once she hears about you dining with the Dimitrescu family?

You gazed down at the bowl of porridge in front of you. Your stomach rumbled in anticipation, and you just realized that you hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, so you picked up your spoon and dug in.

The first bite was heavenly, the creamy texture and subtle sweetness dancing on your taste buds. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, letting the warmth spread through your body. You were halfway through your meal when you felt something unsettling.

A strange, tickling sensation crept up your left arm. You glanced down and saw a small fly scurrying up your sleeve. You yelped and dropped the spoon, letting it clatter loudly against the table. Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze snapped toward you and then to her middle child.

“Cassandra.” Lady Dimitrescu's voice was a blend of warning and irritation.

You followed her gaze and Cassandra sat there with an expression of exaggerated innocence. She batted her eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “What? What happened?”

Cassandra's eyes shifted to yours for a moment, the smirk now fully formed.

“Your games are not amusing, Cassandra,” Lady Dimitrescu began, her tone firm. “As we discussed last night. She will be sharing future meals with us from now on. I expect you all to be on your best behavior.”

Wait. They talked about you?

Before you could dwell too long on the thought, Daniela’s voice chimed in. “I’m finally happy I’m allowed to be around you now. Having to wait all this time was torture.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together in confusion, trying to make sense of what she just said. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind that, dear. Let us enjoy this meal together.” Lady Dimitrescu interjected smoothly, her tone brooking no argument.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling like a pawn in a game you didn't fully understand.

Just then, a prickling sensation ran down the back of your neck. It was the unmistakable feeling of being watched. You tried to ignore it at first, but the intensity grew until you couldn't help but glance around the table. Your eyes landed on Bela. She watched you with an inscrutable expression, her eyes dark and unreadable. There was something unsettling in the way she held your gaze, neither hostile nor friendly, but piercing, as if she could see through you.

You couldn't shake the feeling that Bela knew something – something you desperately needed to uncover. But for now, all you could do was play along.

@ion-news @fanfiction8080 @cryiner

[bloodyknucklesforme]

No name (taking suggestions) for this yet but yeah @syoddeye got me into Nikolai so... here's this. It's way longer than I originally planned but here we are. There will be more at some point but my fingers were just itching to write this out rn so unedited as well...

cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, cockwarming, body inspection, piv, Nikolai is evil but also kind i guess,

"Clothes off... all of them," A thick Russian accent said from the intercom. You looked up at the camera in the corner. He must of seen you hesitate, "I already paid. Don't waste my money."

It never got easier. It'd been almost a year now. As you dropped your coat to the floor your anger and shame hit the ceiling. You'd trusted your ex, he promised to help you when you lost your job, when you couldn't pay rent, when you needed to borrow money. You moved to London for better opportunities now you were in some stranger's house waiting to be used. You'd lost track of how deep in debt you were to him and his 'friends'. 10k? 20k? It made your stomach clench.

"Don't cry. You'll fuck up your makeup." is what those cunts back at the club would always say before you got in a car to a client's.

Marcus hammered it in that this was a very important client. Probably another criminal. A rich one at that. His house was more of a warehouse with an automatic front door.

"Turn around," he ordered when the last of your clothes hit the floor. Checking for a wire or weapons you guessed. Knowing you were being watched like this made your skin crawl but it was better than being groped immediately on entry.

The front room was more of a safe room with steel walls and thick doors. No windows, just the camera, an intercom panel and a white gift box.

"New clothes in the box. Put them on."

It was a too small lacy bra and matching too small panties. A washed baby blue, all mesh so you were fully exposed. The door inside clicked. You went inside.

It was nice. Expensive but not tacky like other homes you've been too. The kind of furniture you'd seen in interior design magazines and auctions, solid wood things made by designers with names you could never properly pronounce. There were soviet era antiques scattered about as decor. The first floor was open with a kitchen and dining area to the side and the rest of the room being a living area. There were stairs to the side leading up to where you guessed was the bedroom.

"You're prettier than the photo." You jumped at the voice. He was so quiet you didn't notice him on the couch. He was big, obviously tall but muscular with wide shoulders. Dark hair slicked back with a widow's peak. Stubble covered the bottom part of an aged face. He wasn't old, older yes but whatever business he was in had aged him around the eyes.

He snapped his fingers and motioned for you to walk over. He had a cigar in the other hand.

"Good. You follow instructions. More than I can say for the last one Arno sent me." He motioned for you to spin around again, giving your ass a light spank and laughing when you yelped. "You fuck anyone else today?"

"No," you shook your head. He blew cigar smoke at you, watching the silver bisect around your middle.

"Good. I'd hate to waste more time cleaning you out. They never do a good job at that." He put his cigar in the ash tray beside him. "On your knees."

"What's your name?" He asked, making space between his legs for you. You answered softly, a lie. Never give them anything was what another girl told you. He held your chin between two fingers, moving your head around like a doll. "Open your mouth."

He leaned forward, looking inside you. A thumb hooked over your bottom row of teeth. It tasted like tobacco and sweat. You'd learned to hold back gags long ago.

"I don't like girls with rotten teeth." He ran a finger over your teeth, top and bottom, occasionally pressing on one. He frowned, "Stop shaking. I'm not going to hurt you."

A lie, most likely. Men always said that before fucking you, like they could believe you were there willingly, like they didn't pick you out of a catalogue of girls. You clenched your fists in your lap and willed the fear out of your bones.

"I like girls who like you." He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pushed your jaw shut. "I paid to have you all night. Make it worth it."

He leaned back, grabbing a remote and turning on the tv. A hockey game roared on the tv.

"Is there...uh...anything you want me to call you?"

He looked down at you, like he already forgot you were there.

"Sir, when you answer my questions. Kolya, when I fuck you." He undid his belt and spread his legs wider. You knew your job. He picked up his cigar again as you undid the zipper on his pants.

He laid a hand on the back of your head, pressing down your hair.

"Just keep me warm for now. Don't want to miss anything."

You took a deep breath before taking him into your mouth. He was thick and uncut. Intimidating even half hard. He didn't push as you worked your throat open, slowly bobbing your head. Sometimes men would ply you with liquor, help you to relax a bit more. You wish he had. The mix of salts from precum and skin filled your senses. A hesitant hand moved to rest on his thigh for leverage. He didn't shake you off.

"Good job, Kotenok." He rubbed his knuckles across your cheek. He let you rest against his thigh, nose tickled by his dark pubes. Cigar smoke, the drone of the tv and the blood rushing around your head started to calm your nerves. Maybe tonight wouldn't be as awful as you thought.

He thrusted lazily during every commercial break. Everything was in Russian so you couldn't follow the game beyond his angry or excited, more so angry, ad libs.

He finally sighed and turned off the tv. He tapped your cheek softly.

"Kotenok, I need you to make me feel better about my team losing."

He made you walk ahead of him, directing you towards his bedroom. His dark eyes dug into your spine.

His bedroom was dark. Wine colored walls with thick, velvet blackout curtains covering the windows. The bed was large with silk sheets and a down comforter.

You crawled onto the bed, swaying your hips as enticingly as you could manage. A hand wrapped around your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed. You yelped as his hips hit your ass, cock bouncing against your cheeks.

"Remember what I told you, Kotenok?" He pulled your panties down, calloused hands scrapping against your thighs. "What to call me?"

"Kolya."

"Good girl." Two fingers felt around your entrance. A shiver ran down your spine. You weren't wet enough, you knew that. You clung to the comforter, waiting for pain.

"I told you to stop shaking. I said I wouldn't hurt you." He rubbed a hand across your ass. He sounded annoyed. You closed your eyes and pressed your face against the silk. It smelled clean and floral.

The snap of plastic and cold fingers prodding at your cunt.

"Shhh...I don't break the things I buy." He didn't admonish you for hiding your face as he scissored you open. "There we go, Kotenok."

He pushed in slowly, groaning loudly as you whimpered and fidgeted. Despite the preparation it was a stretch and burn. He held you down by your hips.

"Good girl," he purred with one last push. The head of his cock bumped against your crevix , causing you to clench in pain. It only spurred him to start thrusting roughly. Your face dragged against the sheets.

"Close your eyes and let it happen. Most of them don't last long anyways," a girl said to you early on. You didn't remember her name.

You forced out moans every time his hips smacked against your ass. Arching your back so he could think he was pleasuring you. There was a modicum of pleasure, chasing it was too much effort, especially with unreceptive partners.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand dipping between your thighs. He pinched your clit till you cried out.

"I don't like liars, Kotenok." He rubbed harsh circles till you moaned, shuddering hard. "Cum on my cock or shut up."

His other hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you up. Your back rested against his chest. Still rubbing your clit, he hooked an arm under yours and rested it between your breasts while holding your chin and forcing you to look upwards. There was a mirror on the ceiling.

"Say my name," He barked.

"Kolya...please...Kolya. I..."

"Want to come on my cock? Beg me for it."

"Kolya please...please Kolya. I want to come. Please. Kolyaaaaa!"

You watched yourself as he forced you up to your peak, clenching around his cock. He laughed harshly and smacked your pussy. He held you up as your legs failed to hold you up any longer. You came hard, grabbing at his arms, manicured nails digging into his muscles.

He growled something in Russian before biting down on your shoulder. He filled you to the hilt, his cock twitching inside your still clenching pussy. His cum was a familiar warm. He let go and you fell face forward against the bed.

"Catch your breath. I still want my money's worth."

You lost count of how many times he fucked you. You were pliant and submissive, following his lead as he bent you into whatever position he wanted. He was more virile than you expected.

You woke up sore, dried cum and bite marks covering your body.

"You shower before you leave. Scrub well." He slapped your ass before shutting the door and locking it from the outside.

It was a large shower but more importantly the water was hot. Not warm but hot. You could have cum just from feeling the jets against your skin. The body wash was luxurious - sweet and woody. You scrubbed well. These kind of men didn't want their DNA wandering all over the place.

There was towel left for you but no clothes and your lingerie from last night was missing as well. He did leave a cup of tea for you on the bedside table.

You kept the towel wrapped around yourself as you walked back downstairs. He was sitting at the dining table, typing on a laptop, cup of tea still steaming and full.

"Come here, Kotenok." He tugged your towel till it fell to the floor. He tapped the inside of your thigh till you spread them. "Don't start shaking again."

You bit your lip. He spread you open with two fingers, tilting his head as he inspected you. You yelped when he forced a dry finger inside you, moving it around and dragging it against your walls.

"Good girl." He pulled his hand and away and got a money clip from his pocket. "I like you. I'll ask for you again."

He handed you five hundred pounds. You stared at Charles in disbelief. You'd been tipped before but never this much.

"Thank you, sir."

"Did I ask you a question?" He didn't look away from his computer.

"No...umm...Thank you, Kolya."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

"If Arno takes that from you, tell me. That's your money. I paid him enough as is. Now go get dressed. Your car is here." He pointed back towards the front door.

You hurried off. For the first time more scared to leave than to stay.

[mushroomates]

the fellowship at a hardware store, from someone who works at a hardware store:

sam: is in the nursery!! goes straight to the discount/dying plants and piles his cart full of wilted and sad plants. likes to rescue the houseplants first, has a soft spot for perennials and citrus trees. is a nightmare to check out but is very sweet about it. dirt and leaves everywhere. like, everywhere. they have to sweep after he’s gone. surprisingly strong and hauls big bags of dirt.

frodo: enjoys home improvement!! likes to wander carpeting and organization, hunts for good deals and keeps tabs on the sales weekends. he likes to peruse the shower curtains and closet accessories. likes to refurbish old furniture he finds off the side of the road- currently fixing up an antique dresser to put in the master bedroom.

merry: doorknobs, handles, dresser nobs. he likes to pick out the interesting and antique ones and customize his home with them. he really likes the oddly shaped ones, he has one starfish and one pickle on his nightstand table. likes to joke about touching all the knobs and fiddling with the knockers.

pippin: is lost in the lighting department. he’s staring up at all the pretty lights and hypnotizing fans. likes the remote controlled lights, enjoys messing with the demos. also likes collecting paint chips. (pippins also the kind of person to get really high and shit in the display toilets.) does not buy anything, maybe some beef jerky and skittles at the check outs.

boromir: this man has like 80 projects going on and is remarkably proficient in every conceivable area featured in the store. he’s here so much people think he works here. he kinda does. he’s happy to advise you, lead you to products, and lifts heavy things for little old ladies and swooning maidens. he’s happy to grab the things on the highest shelf as well as carry those bigs bags of dirt out to your care. he is just a naturally pure and helpful soul. <3

aragorn: has lost himself in scrap wood. straight to the lumber yard, straight to the pile of damaged and recycled wood. once a month, he comes and loads up as much as it will fit in a pickup truck. no one knows what he does with it but he keeps coming back. there are several theories around the store. either he’s building a bunker, has a side hustle by reselling it, makes massive fires or he does wood work. alternatively, he’s a homeless man building his own cabin in the woods so he can live away from society. that’s one’s probably the closest.

gandalf: mixes his own paint. he doesn’t work there but somehow he keeps getting back there and making his own custom colors. was known to pull a miracle and turn gray paint back into white. no one knows how he did this. likes to camp out in the seasonal section. enjoys lounging on couches and swings for long periods of time.

gimli: is so excited to walk into the tools section. wants all the toys. likes power tools in a way that’s both funny and scary. really likes chainsaws and leaf blowers, possibly because they pose the biggest threat to legolas. often gets flagged out the door because no one person needs that many tools and he must be up to something. he always beeps out the door because inevitably someone forgot to take off one of the sensors of his many, many tools. he used to be nicer about this but lately has lost patience with always being stopped out the door, and often will make a show of waving his receipt before leaving.

legolas: spends a good amount of time in the garden. i imagine he gets enamored with the fountains and ponds rather quickly, also likes the statues and fun pots. also, wanders through the garden and samples the plants. by samples i mean eat small bites of it, and if he finds the quality satisfactory he will purchase it. this is rarely the case and he often just goes around eating small bites of houseplants.

[thenordroom]

This week on The Nordroom

A Swedish Family Home with a Lovely Garden Room

Antique Furniture and Arched Windows in a Stockholm Apartment

A White Apartment Features a Beautiful Terrace with a View

A Pretty Pink and Green deVOL Kitchen in South London

A Monochrome London Loft Filled with Art

A White English House with a Beautiful Open-Plan Kitchen

Boost Your Home’s Value by Thousands with This Simple Paint Trick!

A Moody Color Palette and Eclectic Interiors in a London Apartment

A Small Renovated 1920s Apartment in Stockholm

A Swedish Apartment with a Yellow Kitchen

A Charming School Conversion in Sweden

Historic Character and Timeless Elegant Interiors in a Restored Belgian Villa

A Sage Green IKEA Bedroom with A Walk-In Closet

[keyrey]

ꕥ𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰/ 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢ꕥ

“When my father didn’t have my hand, he had my back.” —Linda Poindexter

■□■(SFW, family headcannon.)■□■

𝓡𝓮𝓭, a testament to never-ending strength and courage. White, a resemblance of peace and purity. Denmark, a hot-ass place to be in the middle of summer, wearing a thick cream colored suit and tie. It’s what you’ve been trying to tell your headstrong, handsome, manly hunk of a husband all evening. Although somehow, you’ve ended up bundled in layers of silk sheets, the orange sun peeking through the sheer curtains, the ever-so-calming timbre of Farum Lake and rustling leaves, cradled warmly in the embrace of the man we all know and love, Kento freaking Nanami.

“I swear I’m gonna break that damn clock one day,” you blurt out before your mind can register what you said. A slight offense on your part—forgetting that the clock you’re so avidly pressed about was Nanami’s grandmother’s, one of the last remnants of her being. Grandpa Soren’s house is the worst place to be in the scorching summer heat. Do you want air conditioning? Buy a water bottle and a bucket of ice. If it weren’t for the croissant bakery, the ice cream truck, and the taco joint down the road, you’d flee right back to good ol’ Ammurica on the first flight available, but… this is one of the sacrifices you have to make when you have a husband, right?

"I love your commitment to destroying antique furniture. Maybe we should replace all our furniture with IKEA next." 

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his snarkiness. He does that sometimes, most of the time. “Nanami—” “I apologize.” 

“Yeah, you better, fool!” You laugh heartily, chest hurting as you throw a nearby pillow at him. But of course, with his trained Jujutsu reflexes, he dodged it perfectly even though he’s retired. 

“Dammit! I will get you next time!” The other pillow you were about to chuck straight into that gorgeous face of his, got halted by the creek of the rusty metal hinges. You both looked, craning your heads to the side. 

Slimy fingers which most definitely were coated with snot and boogers trailed up your sides. An ooey, gooey monster? No… just your five year old girl, Jasmine, who runs in the house like she owns the place. You refuse to tell her that one day, she will. 

Jasmine held one of those velcro wooden pizza sets that you can mix and match. You guessed it was her favorite feature because it was the only explanation for a pineapple, salmon, mushroom and pepperoni pizza all in one. To make it even better, her slobbery fingers made an excellent argument on why NOT to indulge in this intriguing delicacy. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDYYYYYYY!!!!” Jasmine was your crazy ball of energy, you really have no idea how she is such a contrast to both your and Nanami’s personalities. 

Grandpa Soren shuffled into the room, his long beard swinging slightly with each step. Coupled with an angular visage. The lines on his face told stories of loneliness, but his eyes brightened as they took in the sight of his family. 

His voice, though worn and gravelly, carried a tender note as he spoke. "I'm sorry," he said, running a hand through his beard, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "She just really wanted to see you on your birthday, Nanami."

Jasmine returned to galloping around the master bedroom like the centaur she is– should be. 

"She's too fickle! Slips right out of my hands!" he chuckled, shaking his head in amused resignation.

“How would you all feel about a birthday breakfast in bed, hmm?” Now we’re talking. You were the first to raise your hand, NOT your birthday. Nanami looked at you, a knowing look on his face. A nod of confirmation, and Grandpa Soren is gone, whisked away into the wonders of the kitchen. 

The scent of warm pastry dough, buttery and slightly sweet, mingled with the eggs, created an irresistible symphony of smells that tickled the senses.

“Daddyyyyyy!!!! Why not eat my pizza!!!!!?? Is delicious!!!”

She really needs to go back to preschool. You couldn’t hold back your reaction, a fierce chortle, eliciting a brown faux fur pillow right in your face, shutting you up immediately. 

Nanami went into full-on dad mode, a mode that even when you two are alone, is hard to turn off. Literally, his pupils dilated fully, looking like a straight up puppy. He seemed to snake off the bed effortlessly and onto the ground, kneeling down to her level. You witnessed his hands tremble in fear as he stuck out the tip of his tongue to taste his daughter’s creation. 

“You like? You like, daddy!!???”

He tried his hardest not to break his facade and provided Jasmine with a crooked smile, attempting to hide the sensation of his stomach twitching.

“Delicious, baby. Make Daddy another one?” And thus began the start of a grave mistake that eventually roped you and Grandpa Soren around in it as well. Sour expressions ran through the family. Luckily, you were no longer burning in the heat as Grandpa invested into a fan. You thought you’d never see the day. Only Nanami would risk his life for his daughter’s wooden pizza creations. This is why Nanami is daddy. Our very own daddy. 

╰┈➤Banner (Canva rules) ╰┈➤Fanart drawn by yours truly - KeyRey. ╰┈➤Special thanks to @cafekitsune for the divider! ╰┈➤ Extra special thanks to @pseudowho for inspiration to start writing again ahhh! Love your work ❤️

(I don’t know if I was supposed to tag, sorry! New to the unspoken rules of tumblr etiquette 😅😅 >.<)

■□■<Unrelated Teaser for a potential sequel>■□■ An autistic dog accompanied by an autistic girl, an uncalled for turn of events, but my current reality as he shakes in my arms, petrified by the sharp, whirring whistles of red, white and blue. A symbol of bravery, peace and freedom. But we all know expectations and realities provide an unequivocal sense of falseness. Which is why a compressed thunder jacket, warm cozy blankets and bread coated in peanut butter, stuffed with an anxiety pill inside is the way to go.

Extra little note: A few mistakes might've went under my radar when writing this, please don't be afraid to point out corrections! ⇣⇣Real footage of Nanami and his baby⇣⇣

[mrepstein]

The Flat That Epstein Bought - Liverpool Echo - July 11, 1964

HOME - with the man behind the Beatles, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Cilla Black, Billy J. Kramer, etc, etc.

Reported by Barbara Anne Taylor

---

I don’t want to brag or cause any jealousy, but I used to queue for the Saturday matinee at a cinema that was next to a furniture shop that was called Epstein and Son and that Epstein’s other son manages the Beatles.

And that is as exciting as dancing with a man who danced with a girl who danced with the Prince of Wales.

The other son is Brian, who has in his time pursued many careers until he found his present crock of gold. He did originally embark, with no lack of enthusiasm, on a career in his family’s furniture business.

CRAFTY CHERUB

“I was 21 at the time,” said Mr. Epstein, who looks like a sharp-clothed, crafty cherub, “and extremely interested in design and interior decorating - still am. I served,” he added stoically, “my apprenticeship with the Times Furnishing Company in Liverpool.

“I was fanatically keen on what I regarded as contemporary at the time. I felt quite a missionary zeal about it, so I wasn’t fired with enthusiasm about the furniture in my father’s shop. It all looked to me like greasy great walnut bedroom suites.

“I was full of notions about the customers really wanting the sort of furniture I wanted them to have. I overlooked the fact that my father is a successful business man because he knows what his customers want. However, I persuaded him to stock some of the furniture of my choice.”

When I asked Mr. Epstein if his chosen furniture sold, he received the question a trifle incredulously: “I saw to it,” he said stonily, “that it did” - and having subsequently witnessed something of his adroitness as a salesman, who can fail to believe him?

Mr. Epstein is clever at picking people; he picked his parents very wisely, for his indulgent father then set him up in his own furniture shop in Hoylake.

He was able to revel in the furniture of his choice and provide an interior decorating service to boot. “It was the interior decorating side I enjoyed most, I had lots of ideas and I love experimenting with colour.”

When I asked Mr. Epstein if he was able to submit his clients to his ideas he replied: “The customer is always right.”

Mr. Epstein inhabits the top floor and the roof, where he has potted plants and wrought iron furniture, and swinging chintz hammocks and a splendid view.

He has two bedrooms and a study and one large, long combined living and dining room, which is decorated in white, grapish green and amber and is inspiringly tidy.

“I can’t bear clutter, I’m obsessive about plainness and simplicity, in fact, this room looks cluttered to me,” he said, eyeing with some distaste this positive precedent for orderliness.

The Buyer of Antiques

“I like buying antiques, although I have no knowledge of them. I don’t care about their period or their history. I just care about their shape. I couldn’t live with only modern furniture now, you grow out of such utter devotion. It’s rather sad really.”

“I find it completely absorbing searching for exactly what I want but there’s really not much choice, is there? I mean, there appears to be a lot but when you get down to it there is really very little.

“And isn’t it sad when finally you’ve found exactly what you want, then you discover that it’s exactly what hundreds of other people want too. It sort of spoils the specialness of it.

“I found it an exciting experience furnishing my first home, it takes a lot of time and thought, because you are imprinting something of yourself there. I think there is something of me in this flat, though it’s not exactly right. I long to have a separate dining room... well, what I really long for is a house.

Knows What He Wants

“I know exactly what I want. I can’t describe it to you, I could perhaps draw it. It is certainly nothing like the castles and follies I keep being offered. It’s a house I’ve had in my head for ages, I’ll know it the moment I see it.

“Till then I’m happy here. I look forward to coming home, that’s the big test, and my friends seem to like it and that’s also important because I love entertaining.

“Yes the Beatles approve - at least they approve of most of the furniture: they were a bit scornful about the antiques. Paul is very fond of the rocking chair, but what they all approved of most was the way I had their photographs framed. Cilla thinks it is all fab.”

[sirfrogsworth]

I've been trying to figure out how I want my house to be. What I want it to look like. And as I've been thinking about this I've discovered I have never really developed a personal sense of style. I always let my mom choose the direction and then just added or riffed off whatever she did.

So I have no idea how to figure this out.

My initial thoughts are that I like being surrounded by stuff that makes me happy. My friend's artwork, my photography, my nerdy knick knacks and toys. My bat'leth. But I really don't want to be one of those dudes with a samurai sword on the mantle. I want to elevate the neckbeard aesthetic, ya know?

Plus I'd really like to keep some sense of my mom's style as a tribute to her. But how do I incorporate all my nerdy shit into her antique-y vibe?

The floors are pretty much at end-of-life. So are the walls. So I need to pick colors for both. But I don't really know how to visualize that. I'm wondering if I should just do gray floors and white walls. Keep all of that neutral so I can embellish with my nerdery on top of it without worry of clashing.

But I also know from my former bedroom in the basement that I like being surrounded by warm colors. My walls are a reddish orange and that always made me feel warm and comfortable.

There is also the new photo studio I want to create. I originally painted my old studio black because it was so small and I was worried about light bounce. But now that I'll have more space, gray would be more optimal. So I could do like a fake concrete-y style floor throughout the entire upstairs and it would work in the studio as well.

As far as furniture goes... no idea. Maybe that is where I could incorporate my mom's style. Just fill the place with old rocking chairs or something.

Perhaps I shouldn't even be thinking about this. I haven't won my disability case yet. I'm kinda spending money before I even have it. I swear I'm not superstitious normally, but for some reason I am fearful of jinxing this. But I also do need to start preparing for the future and making basic plans so I'm not overwhelmed with a million decisions all at once.

Maybe I should make just one decision now.

Okay, I'm putting the bat'leth on the mantle.

Don't you judge me.

[laurbiek]

I can't stop reading your Hozier imagines! sooooo good😃❤❤ can I please request one where he's always saying that yn is his soulmate (she is, but she doesnt admit it) idk I've been thinking about this concept , and who more deserving than our tall boy? 😍😍

noun: soulmate

a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.

Andrew had a list of reasons why he believed he had met his true soulmate. He felt so comfortable around Y/N, like it was easier to breathe around her. She was furniture in the house in the best way, a beautiful addition that is right where it belongs, always where he needs it. She fit in every part of his life, like she was part of the puzzle his life will be displayed as. He felt like she was helping him put the puzzle together, she had the image on the front of the box and put the small bits together with a relaxed ere that Andrew could never achieve.

He often tried to tell her this, and she rolled her eyes at his artistic sappiness.

It happened once when he was sick, he had pushed himself too far in the studio and ended up with laryngitis, again. Y/N's heart melted at his sad scratchy voice and his sweater arms pulled over his hands. She plodded up the stairs with a mug of tea with plenty of honey, and pushed open the old, painted door that would often get stuck in the frame. Andrew's head picked up from his pillow slightly, and fell back down after recognizing the figure. Her socked feet continued over the antique hardwood floors that have held up for centuries, and placed the mug on the slightly more modern bedside table next to her resting husband. She pushed his messy hair out off his face and placed a kiss on his heated forehead. Andrew started to lean up, and reached his lithe arm out to grab his mug of extra-sweet tea.

"You're really my soulmate, Y/N", he said, as a thank you.

"Ok, whatever you say" Y/N replied, laughing slightly, thinking him a little dramatic.

______

Another time, Y/N was yelling for him from the hallway. He poked his head out of his music room and saw Y/N drop the tool box on the ground next to their bedroom.

"I need help taking this door off, I'm tired of it sticking so I'm taking the paint off "

"You can do that?"

"Yeah, there's a paste that like, dissolves the paint or something"

"Why don't we just, buy a new door?"

"It's been in the house for so long, I would feel bad! And its so beautiful, I just hate that all wood these days is covered in white paint"

Andrew stared at her, he knew she loved old things, but watching her take the time to restore something old and meaningful was so sweet, he appreciated that she shared his love of antiques and vintage items.

"You're my soulmate, you know that?", he added after his pause.

"Yeah yeah. Just be ready to catch the door"

______

He helped her set up the door in the garage to be worked on, and often checked on her whenever he took breaks from his music. He liked to bring her drinks, and iced tea (which he found offensive, as an irishman), topped with ice and often, a lemon wedge.

He placed the cold glass on the work bench in the back of the garage, the doors open with a view of the rain pouring outside. Y/N stood in her "messy" clothes, which consisted of a ratty t-shirt that she's kept for years, and paint stained leggings. He watched her slather whatever mysterious liquid she claimed could strip paint on the old door. Andrew walks over to her, and places a small kiss on her shoulder blade while she works.

"Thank you babe", she exclaims, without l looking up from her work.

"Anything for my soulmate"

"Ok, let me know when you find her"

______

Andrew closed the door to their bedroom, now nice and lacquered, the beautiful brown wood now free from the paint that trapped it for many years. The antique knob, polished and brassy, felt cold under his hand, and he could feel the latch click through the metal. The room was dark, Y/N having gone to bed an hour or two ago. He turns the TV in front of their bed off, and climbs into bed, tucking the lush covers around him and Y/N.

His arm stretched out to pull Y/N a little closer, his had cradling the back of her head.

"I love you Y/N, you're my soulmate", he says, even though he knows she's asleep.

It's the only time he can say it and have it be treated with the reverence it deserves.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I'm the first one to say that I dislike white and gray homes, but I just fell in love with this 1886 boutique home in the storybook town of Kingsville, Ontario, Canada. The 5bd, 3ba home comes FULLY FURNISHED, C$849,900.

I love the baby blue double doors and wreaths.

The interior side of the doors are painted gray and white stripes to match the ceiling. The whole home is painted white, but the wood on the original railing give it a nice contrast. Put on your sunglasses b/c it's blindingly white in here. The new buyer can always add color, though.

We get to look at the furniture b/c it's included in the sale. The oversized loveseat is a beautiful piece, but it may overwhelm this space. The runner on the stairs is lovely and usually I don't like runners.

Twin sofas and chairs in the sitting room face each other. I love the chandelier and the painted flowers around the ceiling medallion.

This sitting room is a TV room. It has a fireplace, nice wallpaper and a pretty basket weave lampshade. It's hard to see, but it looks like there are whimsical flamingos on the wallpaper. That wood piece in the corner sticks out like a sore thumb. If there were other wood pieces it would tie in better.

The kitchen has a double Viking stove, lovely backsplash tile, and I like the windows in the upper cabinets. Most of all, I love the blue antique island and wicker stools.

Look at the large pantry.

The porch, with beautiful brick walls, makes a light, breezy dining room. Love the blue wicker chairs to complete the look, plus the window shelves with plants.

Windows let in lots of natural light.

Very nice laundry room.

Lovely vintage half bath.

Set up as a home office, this room has lots of shelving, so it can be whatever the new owner likes- a library, craft room, or even a place to display a collection.

Looking down at the entrance hall.

The primary bedroom is beautifully furnished. Love the large bedside tables and antique vanity.

Brand new shower room. It's small, but nicely done. They made the most of the space.

This secondary bedroom has lovely vintage furniture.

The 2 smaller bedrooms are pretty also.

The bright, finished basement has wonderful original stone walls.

And, there's also a spacious shower room.

Pretty door on the side porch.

Large patio with a firepit and pergola.

There's also a 2 car garage with original vintage doors.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/90-Main-St-E-Kingsville-ON-N9Y-1A4/348751159_zpid/

[stlkrrbf]

I’ll Crawl Home to Her {Rhysand x fem!reader} 18+

After merely stalking the darkened woods near the wall, Rhysand finds himself utterly and irrevocably falling for an untamed beast— a Grimm.

Note: This takes place in the same time of ACOTAR during Feryes life in spring court and is told in the readers pov. It is also heavily influenced by “Work song” by Hozier. This story will be separated into three parts. I would love to hear your feedback!

For two months, I dwell and stalked the unknown thicket of Pryrthian, keeping my shape as protection and comfort. A beast, they would say. They would whisper to each other as they passed the border of villages and the consuming darkness, telling stories to their babes about a demon wolf kidnapping and swallowing young fae. An Old wives tale.

I took the form of a Grimm. A overly large wolf with midnight fur painted from the darkest pits of the mountain. It’s who I was. The blood that ran through my veins and ateries, thickened with dark magic, can be traced to the beginning of this world. To the cauldron.

I used to hate this form. But considering my situation and the blood soaked terror that swept across the land, it was safer for my family and I to remain hidden. Being a high fae with unknowing powers to society was dangerous.

Especially in these parts.

I prowled the dark trees, snow crunching beneath the enormous paws that I’ve grown accustomed to. Narrowing my line of sight as I kept my guard up. Something, someone, was watching.

I whipped my head around, releasing a low growl to anything near, baring a row of Snow White jaws as a warning. A cloud of black, shimmery mist flooded the area around me, stinging my sensitive nose. A figure appeared beneath it. Bat like wings that shone in the moonlight spread out behind. A man- no- a high fae; A high lord; with blue black hair and a look of curiosity spread across his golden skin. It was intoxicating.

“Hello, you.” He purred, keeping his hands in the pockets of his black, silk pants.

He cocked his head to the side, flashing a soft, inviting smile. He was handsome, breathtaking. It was so long since I had seen someone who was the same as me. An icy hand slid against my spine, making me tuck my tail between my legs and back up slowly.

He inched forward as I moved, wanting to know more. “You’re.. interesting.” He began, “I knew something roamed these woods. But a high fae? Interesting..”

How.. how did he know?

Claws burned into my thoughts as I yelped in pain. They invaded every thought and memory I saved locked up and untouched. They tore at my mind. Finding a way to make me, force me, to change to my normal state. I fought the urge, pushing him out with all my might. The more I resisted, the more the pain grew. It shocked every nerve within my body.

“Don’t fight it.” He cooed, kneeling before me.

Before I could throw myself at him, I was engulfed in pain and darkness. The high fae disappeared as I blacked out at the stimulation.

ཐི♡⃟͚̊ཋྀ

I woke up amidst a midnight blue chamber. A bedroom. It was bigger than my eyes could focus on. Antique dark furniture lined the blue walls around me. The bed I laid in was big enough for at least five faeries. The black silk sheets engulfed my naked, cold body; and a large, iridescent mirror was plastered to the ceiling above. I saw myself.

I stared at my reflection. It has been months since i remembered what I looked like. My skin was glowing, shimmering in the dawn light. My h/c hair, outgrown and covering my bare breasts was softer than I imagined. And my eyes, those e/c orbs that was the only barrier between my true self and the beast before me, hard and tired. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I vaguely remember what happened before I blacked out. But the thought of how I even managed to find a place like this roamed my mind. If only I could-

“You’re awake.”

I whipped my head to the side. A familiar voice. A voice I remember. The same male from the night before leaned against the door frame, the black mist fading away from him. “It was about time too. I figured I went too far.”

“Where am i?” I asked sternly, my voice hoarse. “I demand you to tell me.” I pulled the black sheets up to my chest, shielding me.

“You demand me? Not a ‘good morning’ or a greeting?” He chuckled. He moved to the foot of the bed, and I pushed myself back against the headboard. I stared him down, waiting for an answer.

“You’re in my house,” he began. “My room.” He ran his hand through his black hair, letting it fall to the side. “It’s been centuries since I saw your family last. I assumed your kind died out as Amarantha invaded these lands. But here you are..”

“Why did you bring me here?” I growled. Prick.

He walked towards the wardrobe that sat at the right corner of the room. The doors groaned as he opened them. His back turned to me, I shifted my way of off the bed, still clutching the sheet to keep me modest. I backed up against the wall.

“It is normal for a high fae to shift into whatever their magic forms them into.” He fumbled between a few outfits, biting his lip as he studied the fabrics. “But the Grimm is rare. A Grimm with black magic coursing through their lineage. It’s dangerous for you to be out there alone.”

He turned back to me. That same, feline smile spread across his full lips. He placed an outfit on the bed. “Get yourself cleaned up and meet me in the dining room. I’ll be waiting.”

ཐི♡⃟͚̊ཋྀ

After bathing the months of the forest off of my body, I dressed myself in the outfit he picked for me. It was a sky blue top that rode against my mid drift, and cream colored trousers that melted to my curves. The shoes were satin and lined with the finest cotton on the inside. I brushed out my wet hair and pinned it into a low bun, allowing a few strands to fall instinctively.

As I hesitantly finished dressing myself, a tether pulled me from my core, coaxing me the way down the dark corridors of the unfamiliar manor. It ignited a flame inside me, a personal feeling I once felt before.

I slipped out of the bedroom, following the invisible string and gulping at the thought of who I’d meet at the end of it. When I reached the Crystal dining room, there he was. Sitting in a chair at the end of the table, his back towards the large window that spread out against the mountains. He placed his lips against the rim of his goblet, eyeing me as he sipped on his drink.

“You look ravishingly delicious.” He muttered. I furrowed my brow.

“Who are you?”

He placed his cup in front of him, shifting in his chair gesturing me over. “Sit.” He demanded.

I gulped, slowly walking over to an empty chair across from him. I gripped the arms of the chair, digging my nails into the dark wood. We stared at each other in silence, a look of amusement crept onto that annoying smile of his. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“Eat something. You must be hungry.”

“Not until you tell me why. Why you invaded my mind and brought me here.” I snarled. “Who. Are. You?”

The legs of his chair scrapped against the stone floor as it moved behind him. The male appeared beside me before I could blink. Placing his thumb against my chin, he leaned down, his violet eyes bonding with mine.

“The names Rhysand.” Rhys purred. “And you’ll be my guest until I grow bored of you, y/n darling.”