#but my house is no baby-proofed

[spotlightstudios]

Family is coming over w/ two young kids in tow, and when I say I'm gonna slip away asap, I mean it.

[ella-error505]

“Naurind the Formidable was a Noldor elf, the only (bastard) daughter of Celebrimbor, a legendary warrior (forgotten artist) who fought in the Second Age against Sauron and an essential part of the Last Alliance. She died in the Siege of Barad-dûr from her wounds, after defeating Sauron with the help of Elendil. She was the only daughter born into the House of Fëanor, and is remembered for negotiating and obtaining the redemption of her house at the hands of Mandos. Then she refused to leave the Halls for the rest of eternity, because her sword, as legendary as she, Lumnasell, could never see the light of Valinor, because its creation was too dark and dangerous for the Undying Lands.”

(unsolicited OC lore, part II: this time is personal) (all images are from Pinterest, credits to whom it may concern)

[moonshynecybin]

#once again thinking of that rosquez daemon au where they both have crows/ravens <- daemon au !!!! i need u to elaborate. i’m not going to be able to stop thinking abt this……

i love you... many moons ago (like two months) i sent tumblr user its-always-silly-season an anon about what daemons various racers would have and the absolute scholarrrrrrs in the replies (@whatwepostintheshadows) added to me saying marc had a crow daemon by saying that in their au they had already come up with vale ALSO had a crow daemon. which is hilarious. brilliant minds!!!!

like i think it would make vale's myriad neuroses about him and marc being the same so much worse/funnier. what if you were both generation-defining motorcycle racing talents. what if you were both uncompromisingly ruthless on track. what if you were both aquariuses. what if everyone in the world could see that your souls were so similar that they took the literal same exact physical manifestation. what if you got divorced about it.

[emeraldcreeper]

I think some people do need to experience life upending trauma actually I think it would make them act like adults and not do stupid shit

[the-whispers-of-death]

IM NOT JUDGING YOU ABOUT PREGNANT STONE I WANNA HEAR MORE ABOUT IT

Oh thank God.

I think Pregnant Stone = Soft Stone. He'd be singing softly to his baby bump, constantly caressing the bump. He plays his Bollywood vinyl albums for the baby. He cuts back on the amount of spicy food he eats. He no longer wakes up at four in the morning to start his day, instead he sleeps in later.

He cried happy tears upon seeing the ultrasound at his first appointment, babbling about how he'll love them so much. He buys so many parenting books, intent on not being like his father. While talking to the baby in his womb, he tells them that he'll love them no matter what. No matter what gender they are, no matter how eccentric they'll be.

I've always had a thought about him being able to stitch and knit, because they're important life skills, so he's knitting his own socks and baby blankets for the baby.

He definitely doesn't do much heavy-lifting around the house, since he's in his mid-thirties and that's when pregnancies are in the danger zone. But he's determined to ensure this pregnancy will go smooth and that both him and the baby makes it.

He sees the world in a bright light now, there's finally someone for him to fight for. Someone to fight to come home to. And he'll protect them as much as he can.

[emmcfrxst]

jesus christ i've just been catching up on everything going on at ur workplace rn and im so so sorry bby what the FUCK. it's super understandable that with all of this u're in over ur head, so u better not be worrying abt not answering asks !!!!!!! u're doing so so good dealing with this bs; it'll be over soon, i just know u're gonna nail that interview & u'll get the safe, kind & organized work environment u deserve im manifesting it so fucking hard <333 also wishing ur boss a bomb in her cereals

there’s been a really heart wrenching family tragedy involving a horrible miscarriage as well so i have A Lot on my plate rn but i still feel bad for not writing as much 😭

[wrinkleintime]

123/366 if we get a kitten next month I swear you are never going to hear the end of it it will be kitten picture spam everyday on here god please I miss having a cat so much

[climbdraws]

ahaaa Jackson got into the garbage 2 nights ago and my mom blamed me for supposedly not securing the garbage door latch (we have latches on all cupboards bc the animals are Devious) but he got into it again last night BY NUDGING THE LATCH OFF. we r getting outsmarted by a dog help 

[shivunin]

👀👀👀👀 micro stories you say?

How about "presence" for Wen, "tired" for Maria, and "cliff" for Emma?

Ohh thank you! <3 The first one has a musical accompaniment since I have been thinking about Welly Boots and Wen since that music game yesterday.

(Pregnancy CW for the third one)

(Micro-Fic Prompts)

Presence

The boots were old now, the soles replaced twice over, but Arianwen still cared for the leather with meticulous consideration. 

They were shoes—only shoes—but she still murmured to them often when she spread wax over the supple surface. 

“I held a baby dracolisk this morning,” she might tell them, or other times, “It was a hard day. Sometimes I want to shut the door and tell them all to go away.” 

Adaia was long gone and Wen knew it well. Even so, sometimes when she buffed the leather to a shine and cleaned each groove of embroidery, it was as if she could feel her mother’s presence still. 

“I think I’m happy,” she murmured one day, and glanced at the pair of boots tucked under the bed, the red line of a tattoo around her finger, “I think I understand now what you meant when you told me I would be happy someday.”

The boots did not answer her when she brushed her fingers over them; they were only shoes, after all. Even so, for a moment Arianwen felt like the leather warmed under her fingers, like something soft brushed against her shoulder.

She closed her eyes softly and held them to her chest for a moment, remembering other soft touches on her shoulder, remembering bright steel and laughter and arms that held her tight. When she was done at last, she tucked them neatly under the bed, side by side, where they would wait until she lifted them out into the light again.

Tired

“Just go to sleep,” Maria told her brother crossly, glaring at him over the edge of her book. Carver, who was still growing back his two front teeth after they’d been knocked out by a nasty fall last month, straightened up and glared back. 

“I’m not tired,” he insisted, puffing out his bony chest as if that meant anything. “Da said if I’m to be a fighter, I need to take care of you and Beth. Can’t take care of you if I’m asleep, can I, Mabs?”

“Don’t call me that,” she said, “and what’re you to protect me from, hm? All the books in Da’s study?”

But Carver only set his jaw and went on looking at her mulishly. Maria sighed at last and set her book aside, sliding down from the settee and approaching the chair by the door.

“Well, come on, then,” she said, annoyed at having to walk away from her book, and doused the candles in the study with a snap of her fingers. 

Cliff

“It really is lovely,” Emma murmured, the sea air brushing gentle hands over her hair.

“Yes,” Cullen agreed, hovering over her shoulder, “it is. Perhaps—maybe—we could sit…further from the edge of the cliff.”

“I’m pregnant, not fragile, vhenan,” Emma laughed, and patted the ground beside her. “Come on. Sit with me and look.” 

He hemmed and hawed, but after a moment her husband settled onto the ledge with her and peered out at the expanse of sea beyond. Gradually, his shoulders relaxed and his hand found hers. 

“Alright,” he said, “I suppose you’re right. It is…lovely enough.” 

Emma didn’t laugh at the begrudging note in the words, but she did smile when she leaned toward him and softly, softly rested her head on his shoulder.

[kaiyonohime]

So I left the baby with my father in law when I ran out to get some takeout for dinner. Just half an hour, I figured they both would be fine.

I got back and the baby is in the middle of the living room floor doing little pushups, tasting the floor, and slowly creeping himself forward. This is a normal thing for him for the past week or so, so I don't think anything of it.

My father in law, on the other hand, is just starting in surprise and shock, and keeps apologizing and explaining that the baby rolled himself off of his little pillow and started doing this all on his own. He just keeps apologizing about it, and telling me that he tried to stop the baby from mouthing the carpet, but the baby is very stubborn and won't stop.

I just laugh and tell him it's okay, and I know the carpet is clean so no big deal. My mother in law obsessively vacuums everyday, so it's really not an issue in a home with no pets in a culture where no outdoor shoes are worn inside either.

Then my father in law tells me he's never seen a baby do this before, and how strong he is to do full body pushups and all that, and asks if it's okay that the baby is trying to put everything in his mouth.

This man has three children and five grandchildren. And he's asking if babies put everything in their mouths. If I hadn't been holding the baby I would have face palmed so hard at that.

That's pretty much a great example of male involvement in parenthood in Japan, unfortunately. Of it wasn't for the fact that my mother in law had had to run out, my father in law would have never watched the baby tonight in the first place and still wouldn't know that babies suck everything in their mouths.

My husband got a very angry lecture last week because he let the baby sleep on his stomach when he was watching him while I played D&D. Such a huge fucking no. And yes, the baby has started trying to do it, mostly because he sees me sleep like that I think, but not before he's at least a year old and can safely roll fully himself.

Which how lazy is my baby, he's beginning to crawl and can fully lift his full body, and yet he still won't roll from stomach to back on his own. Instead he wails the song of mama summoning to do it for him. And then immediately rolls himself back onto his stomach.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I hate it when someone makes a video trying to expose a piece of pop culture for being evil and then proceeds to show absolutely nothing of consequence as evidence because they feel the need to censor all the bad parts of it even during a rebuttal.

[yoshistory]

It is also a huge relief to know that it IS possible to get Olive integrated with a cat that isn't Hoper. She's got some trauma from when she was my mom's cat (as a baby kitten) with just being like thrown in with a bunch of adult cats who wanted to kill her so it's amazing that it's possible for her with a little time, i really wanted to see this before Rascal got adopted out

[devil-in-hiding]

pregnant!assistant reader who suddenly finds her boss and his team moving into her home, Price immediately upping the security system and locks around the house

Simon starts on the nursery, letting you sit in the nice big rocking chair you picked out, bossing him around on how you want the walls painted

Kyle and Johnny start working on baby proofing until your house is the safest place a baby could be, and you still had 7 months till they were here

Kyle would be the most willing to go out to the shops when late night cravings hit, it also makes him your favorite for the next 24 hours because “he was sweet enough to go get my pickles!”

“pretty you have two other jars-“

“i wanted SPICY pickles John!”

however these men are total messes when it comes to the hormones, the first time you burst into tears, crying about “simon raising his voice at you”, all he had done was scold you for trying to use the stepladder

[ppulverse]

how can some people be so heartless lol

[peaceinsilence]

P2 will be posted on Tuesday, May 21st! 🙂

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°♡• PART 1 •♡°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Warnings: 《mutual attraction. alcohol consumption. HINTS of dom|sub kink. angsty Quinn. posessive Quinn. cheeky Quinn. slow burn.》

Pairings: Quinn Hughes × Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You have been childhood friends with the Hughes' brother's and regularly kept in touch. Now that you all were in your 20's, the brother's and their friends invited you out for the weekend to celebrate the 4th of July. However despite having a lifelong crush on the eldest brother, Quinn, it seems this weekend celebration will be full of jealousy, lust and wet dreams coming true.

A/N: Part 2 will be a continuation of this plot. It will contain acts of sex and intimacy and will be much more filthy and.. nasty ( I will be sure to put it in the warning when I post). This is just becoming too long to fit into one singular post (🥲). Apologies for any weird formatting, as this was all written on mobile. Enjoy! ☆

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"Get out of the hot tub, now."

The usual gaunt and calm demeanor of Quinn's was nowhere to be seen as his command dripped heavily with authority, vacancy, and a bit of disgust. No, actually, a lot of disgust.

And he was speaking to none other than you in this instance.

"Ah.. well just let her stay in a bit longer? She's literally still shiver-"

Quinn didn't utter a word yet simply glanced through Jack with his deep, olive gaze. His brother knew then that something far more serious was transpiring and decided not to test his older sibling on the matter. Especially when it came to the subject of: You.

"Quinn, I'll get out in 10 minutes. And if you have anything to say to me after then we can talk," you retorted, not bothering to meet his sharp eyes.

"Fair. I'll be inside then and set a timer for 10 minutes. Make sure you're inside by then, y/n," replied Quinn.

Abruptly Quinn turned on his heels, hands sunk low into the pockets of his denims; walking back towards the house.

His bold line made your eye twitch and your confusion deepen.

"I'm not a child, you don't need to set a timer Qui-" before your womenly rage had it's time to manifest, Quinn cut you off as he continued his gloomy descent indoors.

"If you don't want to be handled like a kid, then maybe don't act like one."

With that, he gingerly closed the patio doors behind him, no further words exchanged between you two. The absence of him leaving in that way, his words, had a rush of anxiety waving over you. However, it didn't compare to the pain he had inflicted on you just 20 minutes prior.

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You sat quietly alone at the marbled island in the kitchen as you mindlessly swirled around your solo cup of, you guessed it, Coke Zero.

Normally, your choice of poison was a boring whiskey and coke but not today, or for the majority of the weekend, it seemed. The legal drinking age here was 21, which you didn't turn for another 3 months. However, the legal for you was 19 back in your province, so you'd been inebriated more times than you could remember since turning of age.

You didn't drink much or that often, for that matter. Yet seeing the brother's and all of their friends enjoying their buzz and quirky cocktails, you couldn't help but endure a terrible case of fomo.

"Y/n?" spoke a gentle voice over your shoulder.

Swiveling around in the barstool, you locked eyes with Luke and Jack. Your gaze softened at the sight of them both, the cheeky older siblings you never had.

"Hey guys," you spoke softly, feeling instantly more relaxed in their presence.

Jack pulled out a small bottle of whiskey from behind his back and dangled it in the air as if it were a prize he had just won from the carnival.

Your eyes widened in amusement as you caught on as to what they were insinuating.

"Really?" you teased, crossing your arms over your bust.

There's no way they would allow you to have a drink, especially after Luke prewarned you on your arrival.

Supposedly Quinn had chatted with his friends prior, that they were not to give you any alcohol. At all.

"Look, we know you can drink back in Canada.. and it's the weekend of the 4th. We just felt a little guilty seeing you in here all alone-"

"I'm not alone guys, I've got Miso right over ther- wait, where's Miso?" you groaned as you kicked your legs off of the high stool and began searching for your dog who you had brought along with.

Glancing through the massive patio doors behind the two brothers, there you witnessed your 120 lb pup living his best life with Quinn and some of the other guys. Miso was playfully galloping after them, frisbee in mouth.

"Well I stand corrected, I am all alone," you chuckled light heartedly, while throwing your hair up in a rose gold, claw clip.

God, how was it so hot in the States, you wondered? It also didn't help that you were in a long, blood-orange hued sundress. You felt your best when dressed modest and with those you were comfortable around. Plus, growing up with strict parents and in a cold province, you weren't used to showing off your supple skin.

However, you did pack a few new, tastefully scandalous bikinis to wear for the hot tub as the lush infity pool in the back was out of question. How you envied those who could swim.

Instead, you settled and prayed that in the mornings, you'd be able to sneakily make your way to the soothing tub for some much needed you time. You assumed most of the guests and brothers would be hungover and find sleeping in more appealing than waking up at 5 am, rather than going for a morning dip in the hot tub.

Averting your gaze back to the two, they walked past you and into the kitchen where you watched Luke pull out 3 shot glasses, lining them gently on the countertop.

"But don't get too excited, y/n. We can all take 1 together and maybe sneak you another one later... but that's only if you'd like, alright? Listen, you don't even have to take this with us if you don't feel comfortable. It's completely up to-"

"You both are my angels, thank you. But please just pour the shot," you giggled, flashing them an appreciative smile while sitting back on your stool.

You felt grateful that Quinn had brothers who were respectful towards you and others. Brothers who had no issues in a simple "no" if need be said. And boy, did you say no quite a bit to them due to your social anxiety and shyness.

Being handed over a shot, you clasped the cold glass between your slender fingers and anticipated yourself for your insides to burn. Embracing the deep, oaky warmth that was about to glaze over you.

Cheersing the boys with big smiles all around, you held it up to your plump lips, about to throw it back in one smooth motion before the dainty glass of amber liquid is snatched from your hold. A few drops of whiskey swish out and over onto your dress and breasts.

Turning over your shoulder, you see Quinn towering over you as if summoned by the Gods, the shot in his hand. He sets it down away from you on a glass table end in the living area.

"Wasn't us!" piped up Jack deviously as they both tucked their shots behind their backs (and tails between their legs) and made a beeline past Quinn and out the patio doors.

Shooting Quinn a deep side eye, you jumped off the stool and brushed past him to get to the kitchen sink to clean yourself off. All thanks to the captain of the NFP.

No fun police.

"C'mere. I'll help you."

Quinn placed a firm yet delicate hold on your forearm, leading you to the other side of the island. Trailing behind him like a lost puppy, you could only watch the back of his hair bounce lightly with each step. It was still quite damp and slicked back. He must have been in the pool.

Opening a cupboard, he reached upwards and, with ease, grabbed a blue cotton cloth from the top shelf. As he motioned upwards, you couldn't help but leer like a pervert at all the muscles in his back flexing.

You felt your face burning and your nervous system begining to falter. The chokehold that the eldest Hughes' brother always had over you was something you had been trying to shake off for years. At this point, you needed a lobotomy or to be medicated to get over all that was Quintin Hughes.

Quinn turned back around with the cloth dampened in soap and pulled on the fabric of your silk dress without question. You both were extremely comfortable around one another.

Always were since kids.

Gently tugging around your bust, he was exposing more of your modest cleavage, and you were definitely not adorning an irritating bra in this heat today.

Looking up at Quinn, you noticed his face was slightly starting to deepen in shade. God, he looked so cute whenever he got flustered. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Quinn, to your surprise, proceeded to chastise you.

"You've always been my messy girl," he murmured to himself.

Hissing, you told him to shut up and snatched the cloth from his hand, similar to how he had done with your whiskey.

"YOU dropped it on me, Quinn. Thanks for your help, but I don't need you looking down my chest any longer," you quip back, a tone of deep teasing in your voice.

"Maybe it was all just a plan to finally see your big -"

"Oh, Quintin! Don't you dare be talking about my chest, or I swear to -"

"Your big smile," he finished, not hiding his cheeky grin at all.

Rolling your doe-eyes, you couldn't help but stick your middle finger up at him, like the brat that you were whenever in his presence.

Quinn, within a blink of an eye, grabbed your finger and began to twist it playfully around you, as if you two were wrestling.

However, this time, he had effortlessy wrapped his frame around your burning silhouette. Positioning himself steadily behind you, enclosing a tight fist around your palm while his other arm snaked around the lower end of your waist. He pulled your plump rear tight into his lower abdomen and held his upper weight on you as he pinned you against the counter. Your breasts were pressed firm against the ivory marble, spilling further out of your sundress.

Not being able to help yourself, you were stupidly aroused. You found yourself mindlessly swaying and grinding your hips into him, as if lost in the trance of a song that wasn't playing. You hadn't had a sip of alcohol but in this moment, you were lost in his touch completely.

God, did you feel terribly intoxicated by Quinn's charisma and body.

Without being able to see his face and usual blank eyes, you could hear Quinn's breath sharpen tightly and his cock begin to harden against you. The thin silk of your sundress rubbing against his manhood, as if he owned you.

Suddenly, Quinn let go of you while simultaneously pulling you back up and pushing all that was you away. Friends, yet strangers once more.

Spinning around, you tucked a few stray strands of hair behind your ears and looked up at him terribly embarrassed. You pushed a line somehow and could read from his body language that he wasn't okay with it.

"Quinn, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"I promised your Dad I wouldn't let you drink while you were here."

Huh.

Pardon.

You simply stared at him dumbfounded and nervously let out an involuntary giggle.

"Funny, Quinn. I haven't been home in months, nor have I really spoken to Dad lately, so just say you're not comfortable with me drinking," you reply, a light-hearted tone to your voice.

It was true. The relationship you shared with your father was complicated. He worked hard throughout his life to make sure you were cared for, loved, and nurtured. Sure, his ways of showing it and teaching it was... not conventional to the majority, but you knew he adored you. All of you.

Through your terrible depressive episodes. When you gained over 80+ lbs to when you hit your gym phase. He accompanied and supported you through every change. Physical and mental.

Yet since moving out, you both had become distant and shared an obvious disconnect. You were learning and exploring more of the world without him and Mum; ever changing. Whereas he forever seemed to see you in the light of his meek, yet artistic little 5 year old. In need of protection, constant reassurance, and one-on-one attention.

You were trying so hard to find yourself on your own and you always knew your parents meant well, but to know that your father had no trust in you and felt the need to reach out to Quinn and forbid you from drinking, was disappointing in a way.

"Y/n, I'm not joking. Your Dad just doesn't know a lot of the people here, and he was worried... Which I understand. He trusts you completely, and so do I. He knows you can handle your own. He just worries and loves you like I d-".

Quinn stopped himself abruptly and brushed his hand through his unruly hair in mild distress. You'd seldom seen him like that, growing up. Fighting within himself.

His dark locks were starting to dry since coming out of the pool, curling at the ends and glistening in the golden hour that was beginning to shower through the windows.

Softening your gaze towards him, you understood where he was coming from and the weight of his and your Dad's concerns. You saw the same protectiveness in him.

"I get it Quinn.. actually, I-I think I'll, um, go give him a call and let him and Mum know what we've been up to today," you spoke, reaching for your phone off of the countertop. You suddenly felt insanely guilty.

"Of course, y/n. You give them a call while I get something from my room. And I'll meet you down here in 10? Let me make you something to eat, kitten. I haven't seen you eat anything since you came and I know you can't usually stomach anything when you fly."

Kitten. His only pet name for you. And rarely did he ever use it. So when he did, the weight that one word carried made your soul weep with love.

You couldn't help but get teary-eyed. Of course, he remembered how anxious you got on planes. Of course, he knew how you had your moments of struggling to fuel yourself. Of course, Quinn would always look after you.

Reaching forward, you placed a tight hold on his bicep and pulled him in to you. Placing a soft, small kiss on his cheek, you pulled away and gave him a big smile before turning on your heels and heading towards your room to call your folks.

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About 20 or so minutes had passed, and Quinn wasn't back yet. Your call with your Dad had gone exceptionally well. You reassured him you were alright and that Quinn was truly taking care of you, which made him sound more relaxed at the end of the call and, in general, content. It soothed you, knowing he was happy.

As soon as you hung up, you raced back upstairs in anticipation, thinking Quinn was waiting for you in the living area. He was never late.

However, he wasn't there. You even gone as far as to text him to let him know you were laying on the recliner under the pink, frilly blanket. Yet there was no rush to come and accompany you by all means. You were sure he was busy with his friends and hosting.

Unfortunately, when 10 minutes became 20 and he hadn't read your messages, you couldn't help yourself nor your impatience and impulsiveness.

Deciding to trudge up the many stairs towards Quinn's bedroom, you found yourself becoming giddy with excitement. You felt so deeply for him in this moment and only wished you could profuse to him how much you loved him to his core. You swore you had felt some type of reciprocation in the kitchen earlier by him. Perhaps not the sentiments of love, but you felt that Quinn did share some type of romantic feelings for you, right?

The younger Hughes' brothers had shown you earlier all of the bedrooms and living situations for the weekend when you had arrived. Thankfully, you were given the entire basement to yourself, which included a kitchen, living area, private balcony, masters and bathroom.

Eyeing each door that passed you in a blurry haze within the vast never-ending hall, you end up at Quinns door. Taking a deep breath in, you twisted the knob slowly so as not to scare Quinn. He was always a skiddish boy growing up. Especially when Luke, Jack, and yourself loved to prank the more serious brother growing up.

You couldn't even open the door fully, as a crack was enough to make your heart sink and brain numb.

Quinn sat on the edge of his bed, holding a small hand viscerally in his larger one, cooing sweet words towards someone. You watched helplessly as your throat dried, and he pulled her hand up to his lips, kissing it tenderly.

"I'm always here. Forever. I promise you that."

Those were words you dreamt of hearing from Quinn in regards to yourself. Instead, you got the hard side of him or the teasing side or the cold side. The tough love.

You longed to be cared for and adored by him. Especially to be laid in his bed while he sat by your side.

Through teary eyes, you realized that the beautiful woman laid in his bed was, in fact, his ex-girlfriend.

Silently. Discreetly. You closed the door. As if you were a ghost. One that couldn't move on. Not seeking vengeance. Yet forever haunted by what you witnessed. And missed out on.

Hastily, your feet carried you back towards the hall in a frenzied mess and down the stairs as gentle sobs came out of your core.

There was no point still in thinking, dreaming, even. You and Quinn Hughes meant nothing more than friends. You felt even more embarrassed that you had essentially come onto him in the kitchen. Jesus Christ, y/n.

Just as your father saw you as a fragile little child, Quinn would always see you in the same light.

Yet, in your hazy, love stricken mind, you had sworn you had heard remnants of Quinn's sultry, soft voice call for you. Perhaps even shout desperately, as you made your cowardly escape back into your secluded basement. Alone again.

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♤ PART 2, to be continued... xo

[thefantasticmsfawkes]

how many people does it take to install a baby gate? apparently 2 1/2.