#we also had the floor painted to look like hardwood

[superiorbiscuits]

Part two of my favorite photos from my staged (and licensed) production of Edgar Allan Poe's Murder Mystery Dinner Party. One of my favorite things was getting to share a webseries I loved with people who would otherwise not have heard of it. My cast and crew LOVED the script and poured so much work into making it great and they were so extremely talented at it!

[mystellenia]

riding bound abby's strap

summary: abby has teased you all day, so you decide to get back at her by taking away her most treasured sense: touch.

content: dom abby turned sub abby, strap on sex, like very very brief mommy kink? (it was literally one time), dry humping, bondage (pretty vanilla tho, just hands tied by a belt), kinda strip teasing

notes: this is so yummy omg. i've also had this idea for prob a solid two months but i’m just now writing it 🤗

(wc 1.3k)

abby lived to tease you. whether it was fleeting touches or whispering nasty things in your ear in public, she loved to see how you lost all composure from seemingly innocent actions. 

today, though, it was too much. she decided to wear her strap the entire day while you two were out shopping, constantly standing behind you and pulling your hips into her own so you'd feel her packing. she also refused to kiss you all day, promising she'd make up for it once you two got home. she'd pissed you off and you needed to get back at her somehow.  

with your pent-up frustration, you found yourself straddling abby's lap while she sat at the dinner table, work papers splayed across the stained hardwood. your hips mindlessly ground into the impossible-to-ignore bulge beneath her jeans, moaning while she sucked marks around the pulse of your neck. 

snaking your hands down her torso to unbuckle her pants, butterflies warm your lower stomach at a brewing thought. swinging your leg back over hers, you settle on your knees in between her meaty thighs and pull her belt from her waist and place it on the floor near you. you grab the hem of her shirt and rip it over her head, throwing it to the other side of the room and leaving her in her bra. 

abby leans back in the chair and smiles at you on your knees before her. "getting straight to the point, are we?" she smirks. 

your hands keep moving to undress her, pushing her jeans over her butt and moving her boxers down just enough for her faux clear cock to spring out, your mouth nearly watering at the sight. pressing your lips to the tip, you spit down the length and wrap your hand around it to lube the silicone up. 

you then smirk up at her, half mischief and half seduction as you rise from your knees and trail your hand up her chest. walking around the chair to be behind her, you drop a kiss on the crown of her head, her leather belt hidden in your hand behind your back. 

her head turns back to look at you, and you grab her chin and smash your lips against hers to distract her as you grab her wrists and pull them together, quickly wrapping her belt around them and fastening the buckle, tightly. 

she pulls back from the kiss and flicks her eyes between yours, arousal painted brightly across her features. 

"did you just..." she chuckles in disbelief, her eyes squinting. "did you just tie me up?" 

"someone thought it was funny to tease me all day, touching me in places you know will rile me up. well, you've touched me enough for today, so this'll have to do." you pat her cheek twice, your words dripping in mock sympathy. 

she incredulously shakes her head and smiles, wetting her bottom lip with her tongue. "you know what? you can have your fun," she concludes, sure that she'd be able to wiggle her way out of the restraints before you came so she could properly fuck you the way she wanted to. 

"perfect," you breathe out, kissing her cheek before walking back around to stand in front of her. you make a show out of undressing yourself, taking your sweet time with caressing your curves and soaking in how her pupils dilate at the sight.

after pushing your black leggings over the curve of your ass and pulling them from your ankles, you pull the loose-fitted t-shirt over your head, looking at the simple seal on the breast once you drop it to the floor. 

all that's left is your underwear and your bra. you kick the polka-dot panties down, but decide to leave your bra on. it was simple: black with small, pink hearts covering the cups. abby seemed to like it, too. her eyes were locked on your bra-clad boobs, only moving to switch from one to the other. 

you take the two steps to stand in between her legs, placing your hands on her shoulders to stabilize yourself as you look down at her dick. your eyes catch her pubic hair below the strap, and you think about going down on her with her tied up but she cuts your thoughts off with an impatient groan. 

"come on, baby, you wanted to tie me up so bad. play your little game and ride me already," she orders, her eyes drinking you up.

her words and poorly masked desperation leave a warm feeling swirling in your stomach, so you swing your legs over hers to straddle her and grab the base of her cock to line it up. 

your jaw drops open as you slowly sink down onto her length, long and breathy gasps making your chest rise and fall as you adjust to the thickness. you hear abby mutter "jesus christ" under her breath, and if your head wasn't thrown back, you'd see her strong arms twitching against the belt tying them together.  

her hips jerk up into yours and push the rest of the length into you, making you hiss at the intrusion. "god," you whisper, and lift yourself back up before slamming your body back down. 

"i- fuck!" abby yelps, not used to being unaware of the next move. 

you fall into a steady rhythm, your thighs lifting and dropping you onto her dick. the way you were moving—the sounds you were making—would quickly push abby over the edge, but she was done letting you take control. she needed to touch you, needed to see the way your pussy swallowed her in with every thrust. 

her hands begin to try and undo whatever maneuver you'd done to restrain them, but nothing budged. you notice her abs starting to tighten, a telltale sign that she was getting closer, and begin rocking your hips against hers and rubbing the base of the strap against her clit. 

she starts getting frustrated at how you have full control over her, but deep in a place she'd never admit, it spurs her on more.  

"wait, baby, wait wait. i can't- fuck. i want my hands. i need to touch you. i need my hands now," she pleads, her eyes starting to water at the oncoming orgasm. 

you ignore her and start praising her, knowing it'll make her thighs shake. 

"ohh, fuck," you say, your voice 90% air. "it feels... feels so good. you feel so good. always are so good to me, baby." 

right on cue, her thighs start shaking beneath you, tears falling from her glossy eyes.  

"oh, i can't- i can't, baby. i’m gonna cum," she whines, her groans replaced by needy whimpers. 

"come on, mama, let it out," you groan, giving her permission. "want you to feel good. let it out." 

she lets out a string of rushed thank yous before her stomach muscles completely tighten as she cums, unable to control the loud whines that leave her mouth as she does. you follow closely behind, allowing the sensation of her cock pushing against your cervix to wash over you. 

after what feels like an entire minute, the two of you come down from your highs, a light sheen of sweat highlighting your skin. abby has her head lolled back and is trying to catch her breath, her limbs like jelly after how intensely she came. you suck kisses on her exposed neck while she calms down. 

"holy shit," she gasps. 

"who would've thought abby anderson could get so whiny?" you tease. 

"i just wanted my hands back! god, you're evil." 

"i love you, too," you grin. 

dom turning into a sub because of desperation kink go brrrrrrrrrr

reblog if you think murder is bad and that children shouldn’t die

also ignore how these tags are it's the only way i could make sure all of them work. little tip to writers: after about an hour of trying ive figured out that only 5 tags can be in one line. every five people you tag, you gotta indent and start a new line. couldve saved me a lot of time ☺️

@abbysbug @victoria9687 @abbys-gay @serevena @r0binbuckleyswife

@moonalumi @atyourmerci @grey-jedi12 @andersonsprincess @bookpagecandlescent

@lilsmartiepants @tohoko @sevenneves @prettyinpinkcat @slagmagnet9000

@msmsmsms8 @thyjinji @lesbian-useless @cattjull @itzkimi

@h00d-tr4sh @abby-anderson-wifey @abbyshands @llllbtrz @thyjinji

@idkwhattoputherelol @she-canyon @ellieisheretoo @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @picklesarenice69

[inkskinned]

for a while i lived in an old house; the kind u.s americans don't often get to live in - living in a really old house here is super expensive. i found out right before i moved out that the house was actually so old that it features in a poem by emily dickinson.

i liked that there were footprints in front of the sink, worn into the hardwood. there were handprints on some of the handrails. we'd find secret marks from other tenants, little hints someone else had lived and died there. and yeah, there was a lot wrong with the house. there are a lot of DIY skills you learn when you are a grad student that cannot afford to pay someone else to do-it-for-ya. i shared the house with 8 others. the house always had this noise to it. sometimes that noise was really fucking awful.

in the mornings though, the sun would slant in thick amber skiens through the windows, and i'd be the first one up. i'd shuffle around, get showered in this tub that was trying to exit through the floor, get my clothes on. i would usually creep around in the kitchen until it was time to start waking everyone else up - some of them required multiple rounds of polite hey man we gotta go knocks. and it felt... outside of time. a loud kind of quiet.

the ghosts of the house always felt like they were humming in a melody just out of reach. i know people say that the witching hour happens in the dark, but i always felt like it occurred somewhere around 6:45 in the morning. like - for literal centuries, somebody stood here and did the dishes. for literal centuries, somebody else has been looking out the window to this tree in our garden. for literal centuries, people have been stubbing their toes and cracking their backs and complaining about the weather. something about that was so... strangely lovely.

i have to be honest. i'm not a history aficionado. i know, i know; it's tragic of me. i usually respond to "this thing is super old" by being like, wow! cool! and moving on. but this house was the first time i felt like the past was standing there. like it was breathing. like someone else was drying their hands with me. playing chess on the sofa. adding honey to their tea.

i grew up in an old town. like, literally, a few miles off of walden pond (as in of the walden). (also, relatedly, don't swim in walden, it's so unbelievably dirty). but my family didn't have "old house" kind of money. we had a barely-standing house from the 70's. history existed kind of... parallel to me. you had to go somewhere to be in history. your school would pack you up on a bus and take you to some "ye olden times" place and you'd see how they used to make glass or whatever, and then you'd go home to your LEDs. most museums were small and closed before 5. you knew history was, like, somewhere, but the only thing that was open was the mcdonalds and the mall.

i remember one of my seventh grade history teachers telling us - some day you'll see how long we've been human for and that thing has been puzzling me. i know the scientific number, technically.

the house had these little scars of use. my floors didn't actually touch the walls; i had to fill them with a stopgap to stop the wind. other people had shoved rags and pieces of newspaper. i know i've lost rings and earring backs down some of the floorboards. i think the raccoons that lived in our basement probably have collected a small fortune over the years. i complain out loud to myself about how awful the stairs are (uneven, steep, evil, turning, hard to get down while holding anything) and know - someone else has said this exact same thing.

when i was packing up to leave and doing a final deep cleaning, i found a note carved in the furthest corner in the narrow cave of my closet. a child's scrawled name, a faded paint handprint, the scrangly numbers: 1857.

we've been human for a long time. way back before we can remember.

[lovesodakid]

sworn to secrecy

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

2 3 4 5 6

summary: chris and y/n have known each other, pretty much their whole lives. y/n has always had a crush on chris. chris always viewed y/n as ‘nate’s little sister’ until one day, he realized, she wasn’t so little anymore…which nate sees..in which. he does not approve whatsoever. (“brothers best friend trope”)

warnings: slight mention of toxic household. shouldn’t be any more than that, if there is, lmk !!

____________________________________________

i groaned as i opened my eyes, fluttering them multiple times so i could adjust to the sunlight hitting my face through my window, lighting up my room and painting a beautiful orange-like color onto my walls from the early morning sunrise. i extend my arm out from under the warm comforter, to turn off my blaring alarm. i move to my side to look over at the alarm as it reads, 6:04am.

i sit up, stretching and yawning as i grumble a few breathless words as i place my feet on the cold hardwood flooring of my bedroom.

i quickly shuffle my way to my closet to grab some clothes to change into. considering it’s the middle of august in boston, it’ll most likely be warm today, so i grab a short sleeve plain white t-shirt and light washed baggy denim jeans. also, of course socks, bra, underwear, the good stuff.

today is the first day of my junior year. which means, it’s the first day of senior year for my annoying brother, nathan doe, and the triplets, whom i’ve known since i was at least 5 years old. i’ve grown up with them. i’ve seen them pick their nose, pee in the pool, and scream that girls have cooties into my face. i’ve witnessed them going on dates for the first time and their first sip of alcohol. i’ve seen it all.

nick is my best friend in the whole wide world. hes the one person who knows every single detail about me. when mine and nate’s parents used to get into fights when we were younger, nick was the first one to distract me from it. i’d bring my barbie’s to the triplets house and play with him, while nate played x-box with matt and chris. speaking of those two, im very close with matt. he and i bonded in my freshman year, when i was discovering what having anxiety meant, so was he. we kind of helped each other along the way, ive always viewed him as a second brother. chris on the other hand? not as a brother.

christopher sturniolo. the guy i’ve had the fattest crush on since the age of 10. below that age, i also thought boys had ‘cooties’. until one day, when i was playing tag with chris on the playground in elementary school.

flashback

i was chasing chris down the sidewalk that separated the playground from the grassy area at recess, when i tumbled over and landed on my hands and knees. which caused my knees and palms to be scrapped up. as i stood up, my knees were slightly bleeding, along with my palm. i guess chris heard that i stopped, he hurried over to where i was.

“are you okay?” chris softly asked.

“n-no.” i softly cried.

he gently picks my right hand up, planting a microscopic kiss on the back of it.“here, i’ll take you to a teacher. okay?” he says, slightly holding onto my elbow.

“okay.” i sniffled.

from that moment. i knew. i liked him.

end of flashback

i sigh at the memory as i finish getting dressed.

once im done, i put on a pair of air force 1’s, and make my way to my vanity. i opt on just putting on some mascara and lip gloss, deciding that i dont want to do a full face of makeup today.

i pick up my hairbrush, slowly brushing out any kinks or knots in it. once im done, i walk towards my bathroom, and brush my teeth.

“hey! are you ready? the triplets are on their way!” nate yells from down the hall.

“yeah! almost! give me 3 more minutes!” i yell with a mouth full of mint toothpaste.

once im done in the bathroom, i make my way into my bedroom, picking up my backpack off the floor, and grabbing my phone off the nightstand. almost as soon as i head toward my bedroom door to open it, i hear a faint honking coming from outside.

“are you ready? they’re here.” nate says to me as i walk down the rigid, old stairs of my house.

“yes.” i say as i walk past him, to outside.

i make my way to the minivan in my driveway, as i walk around to open the door behind the passenger seat. as nate and i get into our usual spots. matts always driving of course. chris in the passenger seat, nick in the middle backseat, me sitting behind chris, and nate sitting behind matt. it’s the ‘unspoken seat chart’ we randomly came up with.

“you guys ready for senior year!” chris yells loudly.

“yes. my last year in this hell hole!” nate exclaims.

nick and matt just say ‘yes’ in unison.

“what about you, kid? you ready for junior year?” chris turns around in his seat to ask me.

“kid” how i hate that nickname.

“uh yeah, sure.” i mumble.

“junior year really isn’t that bad. don’t stress to much over it.” nick whispers to me

after 15 minutes of chris’s loud rap songs giving me a blasting headache, we finally arrive at the school. once we walk in, we all split our ways to head to our first period classrooms. this year, i have english, so i make my way there.

once i get into the room, i head to the seat furthest in the back. as soon as i sit down, the bell rings, signaling it’s time for first period to begin.

“good morning everyone. my name is mrs. steven’s, ill be your english teacher for this year. now let’s go over…” mrs. steven’s speaks to the room full of teenagers.

i allow her words to trail off as my brain blocks her voice out. i hate school. how long until summer break again?

____________________________________________

a/n: okayy sooooo. i know this part is actually so boring and kind of short. idk if this is actually good or not so lmk if you want me to continue. in this story, the triplets and nathan are the same age and y/n is a year younger. ngl, i kinda gave up at the end lowkey, i just wanted to get this part out to see if it’ll be worth writing a whole story over, which i do have a lot a plans for actually. but it’s also 1:30 in the morning so im tired as fuck so.

[adore-laur]

CALIFORNIA DUSK

— birth of baby #2 in the dadrry universe 🌊

——

6:24 AM

California dawn brings serenity to the house. The sun is leisurely rising, painting the sky with wispy pink brushstrokes across an endless canvas of powder blue. Seagulls croon as they fly parallel to the hazy horizon, gracefully dipping their claws down in the water to catch their first meal of the day. Waves crash against the vacant ocean shore with persistence, as if to announce that morning has arrived once again.

Soon, golden rays will seep through the flowing curtains and cast shapes on the hardwood floors. The trees will start to sway from the coastal breeze, sending earthy scents of pine and cedar into the kitchen. Toys scattered in the living room from the night before will be left alone to wallow until their owner sleepily waddles from her bedroom with a yawn and an empty stomach.

A spoon clinks against the edge of a mug, echoing throughout the tranquil kitchen as chickadees sing their song near the window. Yet the current calmness of your surroundings doesn't quite match how you feel inside.

Being awake for the past two hours—hunched over the kitchen island and rocking side to side while breathing through painful cramping—isn't how you would've liked to commence your morning. Harry is brewing homemade coffee for himself since there's a high chance it will be a long, tiresome day ahead. He's been up with you since you started having contractions, and you tried to convince him to keep sleeping, but there was no way to persuade him since he's naturally an early riser. And you know he would never let you handle the discomfort alone.

Your daughter is still fast asleep in her room down the hall, oblivious to how soon she'll be a big sister. You're not looking to traumatize her at a young age, so Harry's mother is on her way to pick her up in case you give birth.

You've decided on a natural water birth this time. Being in the hospital for your first childbirth experience was tolerable, but the atmosphere gave you tremendous anxiety. The nurses hovering over you, the constant beeping of the machines, and the stale room all felt suffocating. You're confident you'll feel more at ease in the comfort of your own home, with only Harry and the midwife witnessing you in your most vulnerable state.

As the pain temporarily alleviates in your abdomen, you slowly straighten your posture and walk some laps around the living room. There's nothing you can do except hang tight and see if anything progresses. The contractions haven't gotten to the point of being unbearable, but they still beg the question of whether you'll be having a baby today. It's a waiting game.

Harry is surprisingly relaxed, and you suppose it's because this isn't his first rodeo. Seeing the difference in his composure compared to the first time you went into labor is humorous. He had clammy hands, was a stuttering mess, and also forgot to bring his driver's license when he drove you to the hospital.

Now, it's like he has never been more prepared for anything in his entire life. He could be hiding his nerves well, but otherwise, he's extremely put together as he whistles the "We Just Got a Letter" jingle from Blue's Clues that always gets stuck in his head because your daughter watches the show every morning. He's already dressed for the birth that might not even happen today—swim shorts for when he gets in the birthing pool with you and a faded graphic tee that looks like it has seen better days. His favorite blue baseball cap is snug on his head, covering his messy hair that curls upwards underneath. He looks casually gorgeous in the morning light.

After your tenth lap, you wander back to the kitchen and stand beside Harry as he drops two slices of bread into the toaster. He looks down at you and smiles.

"Hi," he says, leaning his hip against the counter. "Contraction over with?"

"For now," you reply dully. "I'm sure there'll be plenty more."

He jerks his chin toward the sink. "I want you to drink some water."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Please just drink one glass for me, baby," he says, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a jar of grape jam. "Let's not have a repeat of last time."

You roll your eyes and steal a cup from the drying rack. He clearly remembers when you vomited at the hospital just hours before giving birth. Yes, you were dehydrated, but that was the last thing on your mind.

As you sip cloudy tap water, you watch Harry silently spread jam onto his perfectly browned toast. He's been too quiet this morning—entirely cool, calm, and collected. You miss his delirious morning humor.

"You're scaring me."

Harry freezes with the butter knife in his grasp. "I didn't know your husband making breakfast was a fear of yours."

There it is!

"No, not that." You wipe off a glob of jam on his thumb. "You're just really relaxed right now."

Setting his toast on a plate, he turns to you with a crease between his eyebrows. "Should I be freaking out?"

"Well, I might give birth soon," you say, your heart rate increasing at the mere thought. "Doesn't that, I don't know, make you nervous?"

"Of course, I'm nervous," he replies, gently squeezing your shoulders. "I'm sure I'll be a hot mess once you're in full-on labor. I'm just enjoying the morning with you while you're still pregnant. You know... soaking it all in."

You release a shaky exhale, your mind spiraling as everything becomes more real the longer you talk about how you'll be a family of four very soon. "Okay," you whisper unconvincingly. "That makes sense."

Harry obviously doesn't buy it because he stares at you briefly before trapping your fidgeting hands with his own. "What's going on?"

"I'm freaking out," you admit weakly. Your voice wavers, and the lump in your throat is hard to swallow.

His face softens with sympathy as your eyes gloss over with tears. "Let's walk down to the shore," he suggests, kissing your forehead. "Just you and me before it gets crazy in here."

Sniffling, you ask, "What if I can't make it back to the house?"

"Then I'll carry you."

"Good luck with that," you mutter before grabbing your phone from the kitchen table. "Let's go while I have a break from contractions."

He nods, taking his plate and the baby monitor from the countertop, and then leads the way out the patio door.

During the short journey there, your heart blooms with fondness when you catch Harry smiling to himself as he walks, his tattooed arms swinging. It's too endearing not to keep as a permanent memory, so you open the camera on your phone and press record. The fresh air has rapidly lifted your mood, and you're thankful for it.

"What are you grinning about over there?"

Harry looks up and gives the camera a big, open-mouthed smile, pure excitement exuding from him. He's been waiting so patiently for another baby, and now it's slowly but surely becoming reality.

"What's got you so happy?" You laugh and stop recording.

He shrugs, still smiling contagiously. "I can't believe it's happening. It just hit me right now."

Both of you reach the sand and sit away from the lapping waves in case you have to head back to the house promptly. Harry places himself behind you, a position that's supposed to help when a contraction comes. You can hold onto his legs for leverage and support, and he can massage wherever you're hurting.

"I can't believe it either," you reply with a pensive shake of your head.

"Talk to me. How are you feeling?" Harry asks, taking a crunchy bite of toast. "Emotionally, I mean."

Talk to me. It's a three-word sentence he's been saying to you for years. He always wants to know how you're feeling whenever you bottle up your thoughts—anger, sorrow, or happiness. It has never changed, and it never fails to help immensely.

"I'm not as nervous as last time," you answer, closing your eyes when he starts playing with your hair. "I feel more prepared since I know what to expect, but it's terrifying that I'm doing it naturally this time."

He hums in acknowledgment. "That's completely valid. No one expects you to be one hundred percent confident when pushing a baby out, no matter how many times you've done it before. Just know that I'm eternally grateful that you've grown two beautiful babies for us. You're a superstar."

"Thanks. I just feel like—" You gasp suddenly, your hand quickly shooting to your side as another contraction hits.

"Okay," Harry says soothingly, grabbing your hand so you can squeeze his own. He quickly unlocks his phone to set a timer. "It's okay. Breathe with me."

You inhale and exhale through the internal pain, the tight cramping making you lean back against his chest. "Harry, it hurts," you cry as your other hand grips his knee. "Ow, ow, ow."

"I've got you. Just breathe through it." He lifts the hem of your oversized shirt and spreads his hand on your stomach. It's stretched beyond belief and has dropped significantly throughout the past week. "Focus on my breathing, all right? And relax your shoulders. They're too tense."

You breathe with him as he massages your lower back. Your face is getting hot and your throat is dry, but the only thing you can fully pinpoint is the penetrating pain.

"Tell me something. Please distract me."

Harry kisses your temple. "You look really pretty."

"Shut up," you mumble with a laugh that quickly turns into a groan of discomfort.

"I'm serious. I love how you look in the morning when the sun hits your face, like right now. It makes you glow even more than usual. And the way it brightens your eyes reminds me so much of our daughter." He turns your face so you're looking at him. "I see you in her all the time."

You smile weakly and rest your head on the dip between his neck and shoulder. "Yeah, but she has your bunny teeth."

His deep, comforting laugh vibrates against your back. "Mm, you'd be the one to notice that."

You just tiredly nod as the contraction subsides. You make a good guess that you're not close to labor yet because of how far apart and mild they've been so far. The midwife is only five minutes away, so there's no dire need for her to come and check on you.

"I think that one's done." You carefully sit up and release his hand. "How long was it?"

Harry checks his phone. "Forty-seven seconds."

"Short," you think aloud. "They've been irregular, so I think they might be Braxton Hicks."

He dramatically falls back onto the sand and spreads his arms out. "Does that mean no baby today?"

You snort and cuddle up next to him. "Soon. You have to be patient."

He's silent for a minute before asking, "Isn't sex supposed to induce labor?"

You scoff and swat at his chest. "I swear you asked me that last time."

"Oh, I definitely did. You rejected me and then literally didn't go into labor until a week later, remember? You should've listened to me."

"I don't think it would be enjoyable for either of us if we tried. I couldn't even walk down here without feeling like passing out."

Harry draws patterns on your belly with his finger, causing a response of fluttery kicks from the baby. "I know, I'm only joking. We don't have to be anywhere or do anything right now. Let's stay out here for a little bit, yeah?"

"Sounds like a plan," you mumble into his shoulder. The world around you drowns out like the shells under the waves as you focus on his heartbeat. The rhythmic thumping of your favorite part of him lulls you to sleep, his hand gently stroking your hair as time passes with each movement of the sun.

Your nerves wash away with each ocean tide, and you know everything will be all right.

——

7:03 PM 

The tub is ready.

You are not.

A shirtless Harry is already sitting in the circular birthing pool, looking like he's ready to deliver the baby himself. You've changed into your swimsuit and are now vaguely listening to what the midwife is telling you as you lean against the wall and suffer through another contraction—a particularly strong one that indicates you're going to start pushing soon.

Your water has already broken, and you're not quite sure why you're waiting until the very last second to get into the tub, but nothing in your mind is making sense due to the overwhelming pain. The bedroom is too small, the lights are too bright, the way Harry's dotingly looking at you is too much, and your body feels too weak even though it's about to perform the most vigorous exercise imaginable.

"We need you in the tub so I can check your dilation," says the midwife, snapping you out of your overthinking spiral.

"I-I can't," you reply helplessly. "I don't think I can do this. I don't want to do this."

You regret not just sucking it up and going to the hospital so they can inject you with an epidural.

"I am going to do everything I can to give you a safe and smooth delivery process," she assures you. "Your husband is waiting for you. He's going to be your support system the entire time, okay? Do you trust him to do that?"

You frantically nod your head—you've never trusted anyone more. "The water will help with the pain," she adds with a kind smile. "It will relax your muscles and make you feel very nice. Can you get in the tub for me? Harry will help you."

You look at him, seeing his slightly shaky hands beckon you closer. You swallow and take a deep breath before slowly approaching him. Equipment scatters the floor and the bed beside you—clean blankets, a tarp for the mess, towels, medical supplies, and a cup of ice.

Harry carefully helps you into the birthing tub, positioning you so your back is against his bare chest. Once you're situated in the lukewarm water, you focus on his heartbeat pounding double-time.

"I can't do this," you repeat as you slide your swimsuit bottoms off.

"Yes, you can," Harry says, kneading your shoulders. "It'll be so worth it. We'll have a baby boy or girl to hold tonight."

"I'm scared. What if something goes wrong? What if I can't handle the pain? What if I—"

"Hey," he scolds softly. "Please don't think like that. Remember last time? What did I tell you to do to distract yourself?"

"Count your tattoos."

"That's right. I've gotten quite a few more since then, so get to counting. Distract your mind from the pain. I'm not going anywhere."

You begin counting, starting with your name tattooed on his right thigh. You then grab his left arm and count all the small ones near his hand. The chrysanthemum on the inside of his wrist represents your daughter's birth flower, along with her date of birth written in cursive underneath. There's also the outline of a wave representing his home with you in California, where you built your life together. They all mean something near and dear to his heart.

The midwife brings you out of your trance when she leans over the pool and checks your dilation as Harry places comforting kisses on the back of your head. "You're about eight centimeters," she tells you after a few seconds of uncomfortable inspection.

"I feel like I need to push," you say timidly. "I feel the baby really low."

"We need to wait until you're ten centimeters," she replies. "If you can just hold out a little longer, it'll be much easier to push, okay?"

You nod and let out a long groan when the contraction moves from your lower back to your pelvis.

"Do you want your ice?" Harry asks.

"Yes, please."

He reaches behind him and grabs the cup filled with chipped ice. You begin chewing on a piece to cool your body temperature and force your brain to focus on something else.

Several minutes pass, with Harry whispering loving encouragements as the midwife talks you through what's about to happen. She allows you to exert tiny pushes while applying pressure to your abdomen. Everything goes in one ear and out the other, but you know the moment is almost here. There's no stopping now.

"Do you still feel like you need to push, honey?" the midwife asks, checking your dilation again.

"Yeah. Am I ten centimeters yet?"

"Just about. I'm going to have you push now."

You turn your head and stare at Harry with wide eyes. He messily captures your lips with his, then moves them near your ear. "I'm right behind you. Whatever you need, just let me know. If you need me to get out or scream at me—anything at all."

You look forward when the midwife parts your legs and encourages you to push using all of your strength.

The first push is the most agonizing. Your head throws itself back on Harry's shoulder as you grit your teeth and contract what feels like every muscle in your body. The midwife counts to ten, the seconds dragging on like minutes. Your face is scrunched up tight, and your legs are tense in the water. Harry softly counts in your ear, taking your left hand in his.

Breathe out for three. 

The second push feels like you're on fire, but not in a good way. The aching, cramping, and stinging pain shooting all over your body is borderline unbearable. It's felt externally, internally, and everywhere in between. You let a cry escape your mouth as the pain strikes your lower abdomen in full force. Harry kisses your ring finger and sets your hand on his heart.

Breathe out for three. 

The third push gets you the farthest. Your ringing ears distantly hear something along the lines of I can see the head, and you feel a sharp breath from Harry hitting your neck and a kiss behind your ear. When the midwife gets to number two, she pulls the head out. The burning sensation remains, but the most challenging part is out of the way.

Breathe out for three. 

The final push is when you give every ounce of energy you have left, squeezing both of Harry's hands so tightly that you're afraid you might break his bones. You're told to give your strongest and longest push, making your entire body rigid as you stop your breathing to make this the last one. Harry chants motivational words from behind you: They're almost here, you're doing so good, I love you. 

Then, all at once, there's release.

Relief.

Remission.

You quickly pull your baby up from under the water and cradle them against your heaving chest. You're shivering from the adrenaline, and your body feels bizarrely empty.

"It's a girl!" announces the midwife as she wipes and rubs her down with a towel.

The tears immediately fall. You hear Harry let out a quiet sob as he buries his face in your neck with trembling lips. With his forehead pressed to your skin, he sniffles while the sound of your baby girl's cries fills the room.

"Would Dad like to cut the cord?"

Harry nods and palms his tear-filled eyes. She passes tiny surgical scissors over to him and stretches the umbilical cord, showing him where to snip. He carefully moves out from behind you and releases an emotional breath as he opens the scissors, but he drops them in the tub because of his shaky hands.

"Sorry," he says with a choked laugh. He picks them up and tries again, successfully cutting the cord. The midwife cheers and begins setting things up for the after-birth process.

You cradle the back of your baby's head and cry with unspeakable happiness. "Hold her," you tell Harry now that she's detached.

He reaches his hands out, and you carefully pass her squirming body over to him. He seems almost lost in a trance for a second, but when her cries die down instantly once her skin meets his, he looks at you with the most breathtaking smile.

She clings to him like a lifeline, her cheek squished against his chest and her tiny hands spread on his collarbones. "Look," he whispers to you with watery eyes. "Look at her."

"I know. She loves you already."

His gaze is now focused on you, with an expression conveying so many emotions. You think he's never looked more beautiful.

"Thank you," he says.

Those two simple words are spoken with a heavy amount of sincerity. You know what they mean: Thank you for letting me be a father. Thank you for pushing through all the mental and physical changes again. Thank you for her. 

You smile and blink back more tears. "All in a day's work."

Harry shakes his head as his eyes dance over your face. "You're the strongest person I know. I've never seen anything more incredible than what you just did."

"Thank you for helping me through it."

"I always will," he says while stroking your baby girl's back with his large hand. It almost engulfs her entire body.

"Are you insinuating we're going to have more babies?"

"You know I'd have a million with you. You're fuckin' perfect."

You slap his arm lazily. "Don't swear."

He leans in until his forehead touches yours. "Give me a kiss."

"Your lips are dry."

He licks his lips, and you meet his mouth. He hums and grins into the kiss, pulling away from you with a glint in his eyes. "I love you so much," he murmurs before glancing at his daughter. "Both of you. My heart beats for my girls."

"I love you."

A tiny hand suddenly hits Harry's mouth. He sputters a laugh and grabs it, kissing it repeatedly until she lets out a gurgle. He laughs in disbelief and hikes her up to smell her head, the baby scent being one of his favorite parts about having a newborn.

"Already a daddy's girl," you slur tiredly, exhaustion finally catching up to you.

He puckers endless kisses onto her head. "Think I'll keep you forever, angel," he tells her. "Is that okay? Hmm? Gonna be my snuggle bug when I need it the most?"

Her eyes remain closed, and her lips smack as she lets out a silent cry. You look at Harry, and you find him absolutely mesmerized by her. Every small movement she makes, every change in facial expression, every noise that comes from her—he's watching it all with proud eyes and a permanent smile.

No other man would you want as your husband. No other man would you want to be the father of your babies.

——

8:40 PM

It's been a little over an hour since you gave birth, and since then, you've been moved to the bed after being cleaned up. You've just finished breastfeeding and now lie with her in your arms as you try to fall asleep next to Harry. He's still making calls to his loved ones to tell them the news, and each time he does, he gets emotional all over again when the person on the other line gasps or screams with joy.

He's wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, and part of his hair is held back with one of your daughter's pink butterfly clips. You're both running on empty but have never been more blissfully content as she sleeps, her body wrapped in a white swaddle and a baby beanie snug on her head.

The windows are open, letting the ocean breeze waft in and cool your body's dull ache. The midwife had been kind enough to bring you snacks, leaving ice water, a plate of crackers, and a bowl of strawberry yogurt for you on the nightstand. There was an instance when Harry asked for a spoonful of your yogurt, and when you fed it to him, some dropped onto your baby's cheek. You both broke into silent laughter until she got fussy from your movements. Or maybe it was from the cold dollop of yogurt on her sensitive skin. Either way, it was entertaining.

Now, you drift off beside him and feel the soft breaths of your baby girl on your breast as the linen curtains blow in time with the swelling waves meeting the shore.

"Are you awake?" Harry asks quietly after he ends another call.

"Barely," you whisper into his sleeve. It smells like heaven.

He kisses your temple and inhales deeply. "I just got off the phone with my boss. He says congratulations and to name her after him."

You release a laugh laced with drowsiness. "I don't think she'd appreciate being named after an ornery old man."

"True. That was the last call I needed to make, by the way." He scoots down the bed and gently nuzzles his head into your side. "Get some rest. I'll be quiet now."

"I don't want to miss anything," you say, even though your eyes have been involuntarily closing for the past ten minutes.

He lightly scratches up and down your arm. "She's sleeping, my love."

"I know, but what if she does something cute?"

"Then I'll wake you up."

"Promise?" Your eyes droop once again with overpowering fatigue.

"I promise." He seals it with a tender kiss on your shoulder. "You need—"

A knock on the bedroom door interrupts him and makes your head turn toward the sound. The knob jiggles for a few seconds before the door slowly opens with a creak to reveal your daughter standing there. She's holding her favorite blanket, her thumb tucked in her mouth. You assume Harry's mother must have just arrived and is letting her have some alone time with the both of you.

"Hi, lovebug," Harry says softly. "C'mere, we've got a surprise for you."

She cautiously shuffles over to the edge of the bed and inspects the sleeping bundle in your arms. "Did you have fun with Grandma today?" you ask her.

She nods distractedly, her eyes still glued to the baby. Harry smiles and picks her up, setting her on his lap. "That's your baby sister," he explains. "You're officially a big sister now."

She looks at him. "Where?"

He lets out a breathy chuckle and shifts her closer to the baby. "Right here, sweetheart. She's sleeping, so you have to be quiet."

"Oh," she whispers. You and Harry exchange smiles.

"Isn't she pretty?" you ask.

"Yeah." Her voice is still a whisper as she pokes the baby's fists. "So little."

"She is," Harry says with a sniffle. "You were once that little. You have no idea how perfectly you fit in my arms."

You kiss her cherubic cheek. "Do you want to hold her?"

She glimpses at Harry as if to ask for permission, and he nods his head in encouragement. He positions her between the two of you, and then you maneuver the baby into her arms while ensuring the head is supported.

The sight is something out of a dream. How attentive she is to her new baby sister, admiring her like a delicate flower, examining her closely like a beautiful specimen, gently touching her nose and puckered lips. She keeps looking at you and Harry when the baby wiggles or makes a noise, a look of pure innocence and curiosity that brings more heartfelt tears to your eyes.

You eventually peel your gaze away from her and find Harry staring at you. A tear falls from his bottom eyelashes, his nostrils flaring from residual emotions hitting him. Reaching over, you thumb away the teardrop and focus on the bay window. The sun has dived below the darkening horizon, allowing stars to faintly dot the sky. Cicadas buzz in nearby bushes, and the night tides of the ocean collide with the sand that will soon be illuminated by the moon.

It's quiet in the bedroom, with nothing but the sound of soft breathing and the occasional coo from the baby. Your family of three is now four, and you've never felt more full of love. The world around you is serene, just like it was during the sunrise before she came into the world.

California dusk has brought you an angel.

——

[losfacedevil]

Dreams In Gold // JMK

a/n~ We all love Josh covered in gold paint, don't we? This piece makes me nervous... I'm starting to think everything I write makes me nervous. But it's also a redemption for myself.

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!! Mutual masturbation, unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy) penetrative (p in v) intercourse.

There was something in the way he slammed his jeep door shut, the force with which it collided with the body of the Jeep shaking you to your core. You knew by the way he moved - slowly taking all of his things out of the back of his jeep - that he was not happy. But it wasn’t until you got a glimpse of him in the dim street light that you understood the cause of his frustrations. 

You quickly removed yourself from the equation. Stepping back into the safety of your kitchen, and quickly busied yourself with cutting an apple - the first thing you laid your hand on. The front door opened rather roughly, his bags slamming up against the metal door as he gently pulled the screen door shut. 

Incoherent grumbles flowed from the living room along with the sound of his bags hitting the hardwood floor. Josh slowly made his way into the kitchen, dragging his now bare feet along the floor as his shoulders slumped forward. His eyes were closed as he leaned up against the door frame, careful to not press his still golden skin to the wood. 

“Have I ever told you how annoying my brothers are?” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. You couldn’t help the giggles that slipped past your lips as you took in his appearance, the clearly hours old gold paint still glistening as if it had just been brushed across his skin. 

“Long day at the office?” You quipped, snatching an apple wedge off of the counter and made your way over to where he stood. He nodded gently, accepting your snack offer as you lifted up on your toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, the transfer of gold from his lips to yours barely there. 

“They hogged the showers so, you know, take one for the team Josh has been painted gold for a good twelve hours now. I tried to use makeup wipes to get it all off but I used an entire package of the damn things and barely cleared my stomach of the coloring. I thought they were gonna kick my ass.” He rolled his eyes, sinking his teeth into the crisp apple wedge. You shook your head, fighting off the giggles that bubbled in your chest. 

“What’s the saying? But in the end we will spend, the weight of dreams in gold. You’re just living your best life painted up like a Grammy is all.” Josh rolled his eyes, popping the other half of his apple wedge into his mouth. 

“Think you’re cute, do ya?” He mumbled around the food in his mouth, reaching up to run a gold stained fingertip down the length of your nose. Your eyes crossed slightly as you watched the trail of his finger. 

“Do I think I’m cute? No, I know I’m cute.” You giggled, tracing a single finger over the side of his neck; collecting a sheen of slightly damp gold paint on the pad of your finger. A shiver danced up his spine as he reached up and wrapped his hand around your wrist. 

“Don’t start a game you don’t want to play covered in gold.” His voice held a husky tone, his eyes boring into yours as you ripped your gaze from his and looked him up and down. 

“Who said I didn’t want to be covered in gold?” You challenged, wiggling your wrist out of his grasp and turned your hand to run your paint kissed finger down the length of your cupids bow, marrying the dull color with the gold on your lips. A curious noise escaped him and he reached out, wrapping his arm around your middle and pulled your body flush against his.  

Giggles slipped past your lips as his arm tightened and he dug his finger tips gently into your side. You reached up, placing your fingers in the gold tracks his own had made against his cheeks. A sinister smile spread across his lips as he leaned forward and captured your lips with his. Josh turned quickly, pressing your body up against the door frame as his hand found your throat. A manic smile graced your face as you stared up at him through your lashes. 

“Oh you like that, don’t you, Princess?” Josh’s voice deepened to a growl, pushing the side of his index finger up against the underside of your chin. Your eyes fluttered shut and you brought your teeth down to worry your bottom lip as his slotted his leg between yours. 

He removed his hand from your neck, admiring the barely there golden outline of his fingers and palm against your skin. Your eyes never left his, watching as his pupils slowly dilated and a flame sprung to life behind them. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past your lips as you took in the golden sheen on his beard, reaching up and curling a finger under his chin to lift his head slightly. 

“You wouldn’t wanna make a mess of my pretty white sheets, now would you?” You cooed, leaning forward to press soft kisses against his neck, leaving bare lip marks where it once was gold. Josh shivered under your touch, driving his leg higher against your clothed core.

A sinister smile spread across his lips as he reached out and opened the button of your jeans. Snaking his hand down the front of them he cupped you, applying the gentlest of pressure against your clit with the heel of his hand. You cleared your throat, choking down the soft moan you knew he was searching for. 

The soft caress of your hand against his thigh caused his dick to twitch, shaking the soft material of his sweats. A soft blush crept up his cheeks, just slightly peeking above the golden streaks. Resting your palm against his groin you massaged him though his sweats, earning yourself a groan as he began to rub your clit through the fabric of your panties - careful not to leave any paint marks in sensitive areas. 

Reaching forward you wrapped your fingers around the zipper of his sweatshirt, gently tugging the little metal pull down to reveal his bare chest; completely covered in painted hand prints and streaks. Your eyes grew wide at the markings. There was something about the way the streaks of gold kissed his chest, and the evenly spaced bare markings of where his jewelry had laid. 

Josh let the sweatshirt slide down the length of his arms, removing his hand from you and slipped the sweatshirt off. He tossed it gently to the side, watching it flutter to the floor as an idea crossed his mind. A mischievous smile graced his lips as he wrapped his fingers around the bottom hem of your shirt and quickly shimmied it up over your head. 

He tossed it to the floor before quickly turning his attention back to you. His hand found it’s home against you neck, wrapping around one side as he used his thumb to tilt your head back. He leaned forward, peppering soft kisses to the skin of your neck as he began to massage your breast with his other hand; pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger. Your knees wobbled, the sudden attention to your sensitive flesh seemingly all too much. His thigh found home between your legs once more as your knees buckled, supporting your weight against the toned muscle of his leg. 

“Weak in the knees already, huh? What did it for you, hmm? Was it the paint?” He mumbled, pulling back briefly to admire the soft glow of left over gold paint that kissed various bits of your skin. 

“Oh, or was it this?” He mumbled, leaning forward once more. He sunk his teeth into the sensitive spot just below your ear and pinched your nipple hard, eliciting what could only be described as a mixture of a moan of pleasure and pain from your chest. 

“You’re a fucking tease, Joshua.” Your voice not higher than a breathy whisper as you regained your composure and began to grind your clothed core against his thigh. A gravelly chuckle escaped him as he gripped your hips and began to rut your body faster over the length of his thigh. 

“Let me help you with that, darlin’.” He drawled, trying to ignore the hand you had slipped under the waistband of his sweats. Your eyes snapped open and a soft smile spread across your face as you realized he had gone commando. 

His jaw fell slack, a shuddering breath escaping him as you wrapped your hand around his dick. Josh swallowed thickly and a breathy giggle escaped him as you began to slowly work him over. He slowed the movements of your hips, matching the rhythm and pace you set - agonizingly slow. Reaching up you cupped his chin in your hand, pulling his face to yours and you crashed your lips against his. 

Josh wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your body flush against his before lifting you slightly off of your feet. He spun gently in place, maneuvering so he secured your body against his and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He moved slowly through the living room, his lips moving perfectly along with yours as his feet came into contact with the old recliner sat in the corner of the room. He spun on his heel, gently perching himself on the edge of the chair.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulder and let his body fall back against the chair; a soft puff of air escaping through his nose as he collided with the cushioned back of the recliner. Soft giggles escaped you as you repositioned yourself on his lap and gently pressed your hips down against his erect dick. His hands trailed down your sides before gripping your hips and moving you slightly, effectively making you straddle his thigh. 

“Show me.” He mumbled, pressing his thigh up against you. Cocking your head to the side you rolled your hips gently and elicited a breathy chuckle from him. He rested on hand on your hip and reached up with the other to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Again.” He chuckled, enjoying the show you were slowly beginning to put on. You gently rested your hand against his groin, petting him softly through his pants. A shiver danced up his spine as you slipped your hand beneath the waist band of his pants once more. His head fell back against the chair, eyes rolling back as you slowly found your pace. 

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against the side of his neck, careful not to get dried paint in your mouth. Josh swallowed thickly, bucking his hips up against your grip as he chased the friction you refused to grant him. He gazed at you through narrowed lids as you wrapped your hand around his wrist and guided his hand to your breast. 

“Oh? Are we begging or demanding?” Josh chuckled, removing his hand from your hip and wrapped his arm securely around your lower back. Your lips pulled into an inquisitive look and you cocked your head to the side, raising your shoulders in a dangerous shrug. 

“I guess that’s for me to know and for you to find out, isn’t it, lover boy?” You cooed, letting go of his wrist in favor of fondling your breast for his entertainment. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, rolling his hips up into your grasp once more. 

“Fuck this.” He mumbled, wrapping his hand around your arm and pulled it out of his pants before tapping you on the thigh; a silent request for you to stand. He hooked his fingers around the waistband of your jeans, gently pulling them down the length of your legs and his hands found your hips to steady you as you kicked them off. 

“Floor, now.” He was to a point where coherent sentences weren’t a thing, short demands replacing his full thought processes. You did as you were told, laying back against the plush carpet that graced the floor, slowly opening your legs for him. 

A soft groan escaped him as he took you in in your entirety. Quickly ridding himself of his pants he dropped to his knees and placed a hand on either side of your head, hovering above you. Reaching down between your bodies you wrapped your hand around his dick, gently sliding it along your folds to collect your slick before lining him up to your entrance. 

Josh moved slowly, pushing with just enough force to sink agonizingly slowly into your heat. You pulled a deep breath in through your nose and a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as he set a quick and heated pace. 

“Oh so it’s like that, huh?” You chuckled, reaching down to roll you fingers gently over your clit. Josh nodded, connecting his lips to  yours in a fervent kiss, chasing the high he’s been eagerly waiting for. 

“Fuck you like a good girl, no?” He mumbled between kisses, causing your eyes to roll back. The band of pleasure quickly began building in your stomach, the gently touch of your own hand and the harsh slapping of his hips against yours enough to send you into space. 

“Fuck me like the best girl.” You giggled, screwing your eyes shut as his pace grew even faster, a speed at which you weren’t aware he could move. He screwed his eyes shut as you clenched around him, the sensation sending him over the edge. 

Soft grunts escaped him as he rode out his high. Yours crashing into you soon after with his name on your lips like a symphony. His body shook with laughter as he leaned back and noticed how you shone with a light dusting of gold. 

“Look at you, you’re a masterpiece. Heh, you’re my masterpiece.” He chuckled, slowly pulling out of you and stood; scurrying off to get something to clean up with.

Cheeky little taglist: @vanfleeter @puzzle-gvf @joshsindigostreak @wideminded-dreamer @runwayblues @takenbythemadness @rhythm-of-space

[jessicanjpa]

crown molding

After losing a bet, Emmett and Jasper have to paint Edward's new bedroom (He was kicked out of his old one by Alice). Shenanigans from this chapter of 1950, Edward POV.

I moved the van back behind the garage and hung the new set of keys next to all the others; we were running out of hooks. As soon as I entered the kitchen, my nose twitched at the offensive smell of fresh paint that was already infecting the house. I made my way to the room in question to find Emmett and Jasper painting the walls at vampire speed. Esme and Jasper had completed most of the construction at human speed, but now my brothers' faces were twisted in disgust as they made short work of their gruesome task.

"Carlisle said we should take Jasper out while the first coat dries," I said, leaning against the door frame.

Emmett nodded, kicking an unused paintbrush in my direction. "Why don't you make yourself useful? This stuff reeks."

"No way. You lost fair and square. I'm going outside."

"We've both been working all day," Jasper protested. "All you've done is play the piano." And be emotionally turbulent!

"Composing is work," I scoffed. "I'd like to see you two try it."

"Come on, Eddie," Emmett growled. "It's your room."

"And it looks terrific," I said with a grin, stepping inside to survey their progress. "Don't forget about the crown…" I trailed off, tensing as I saw the devious look they were exchanging, and the plan just beginning to form in both their minds. "You wouldn't."

They attacked in tandem before I could take another breath. Jasper dove for my feet just as Emmett lunged for my shoulders, and I spun around to make my escape.

I would have made it out of the room with time to spare, but I hadn't accounted for the ladder that was right behind me. I crashed into it just as Jasper locked his arms around my ankles. I grabbed the ladder as I fell, swinging it like a club at Emmett as he came at me. It crumpled with a groan against his face. He snorted with laughter, tossed it aside, and grabbed my neck with his left hand all in one motion. I fought them as hard as I could, but they dragged me over toward the paint buckets with ease. Emmett used his right hand to dump an entire gallon of light blue paint all over me.

I snarled and sputtered, finally twisting my feet free of Jasper's paint-slick grip. I landed a kick on Emmett's throat, which made him release my neck. I grabbed another paint bucket and sloshed the contents right at Jasper's head, but he dropped down onto all fours just in time, and the paint splashed all over Emmett's face instead. The best part was that he had had his mouth open to laugh at Jasper, who had been my original target.

Emmett coughed the paint out while Jasper shook with laughter on the floor, which was now a paint-soaked disaster. "Oh, that's just…" His eyes fell on the final bucket of paint, which hadn't been opened yet. No sense in just one of us staying clean, is there?

"Nope," I said cheerfully. Emmett lunged again, but for Jasper this time. Jasper tried to dart away, but slipped on the paint underfoot as he ran in place. Emmett held him down while I cracked the bucket open over his head like an egg. His golden hair quickly became a mass of sticky, drippy blueness. He shook his head to get the excess off, sending a spray of paint directly onto…

Esme's face.

"What do you three think you're DOING!?" she shouted from the doorway. We all froze, Emmett's hands still around Jasper's throat and me still holding the incriminating evidence of the third bucket right above his blue hair.

Jasper's gift flashed to life and Esme relaxed her stern expression, looking around the room in amazement. Not only was the hardwood floor now soaked with paint, but we had also destroyed the ladder, wasted all the paint for today, and there was a dent in the wall that looked suspiciously like Emmett's profile.

"Boost it," I hissed in Jasper's ear. He concentrated his effort until Esme's laughter finally bubbled over. She darted over to where we were crowded, but she slipped on the paint like we had. Emmett flicked out his foot to trip her while she was off-balance.

"Emmett!" I said in shock. Esme sat back up blinking. The entire right side of her was now blue.

Rosalie and Alice finally made their appearance at the doorway. Alice's eyes sparkled with amusement. They both had their new blue jeans on, and I noticed now that Esme was also wearing hers… and we had just ruined them.

"What happened in here?" Rosalie shrieked, backing away.

"All right," Esme said, her eyes flashing. "Who started it?" All three of us pointed at one another. Esme glanced back at Alice, who shrugged innocently. She wasn't about to give Jasper away.

"Well," Esme said, standing back up, "since you all started it, I think you can all clean this up and repair the damage together, starting with the floor. I don't want to see a single speck of blue on the floor when you're finished. And that wall had better be perfect. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," we muttered together.

"Good. I'll bring you everything you need, because you three are not walking through the house like that. When you're done working, you can go out the window and wash off in the creek. And Edward, something tells me this didn't start until you came back in the house. So you can be the one to go buy more paint and a new ladder, and next time leave you them alone while they work. If this happens again, I just might decide that all the other rooms in the house need to be painted!"

We all nodded, doing our best to look contrite until her back was turned, though she herself was trying not to laugh until she left the room. As soon as she was gone, Jasper began shaking with silent laughter again. He was delighted to be scolded by his new mother, especially since he knew she hadn't really been angry. He had no memories of anything like this with his human mother. He thought about running and grabbing Alice with his blue, dripping arms, but she saw his plan and ran away shrieking, followed by Rosalie.

"Laugh it up, little brother," Emmett growled. "If you think paint smells bad, just wait 'til you smell paint thinner."

[simplydnp]

idk. To me it just seems more likely that they have separate rooms. Bc why would Phil put his closet and bathroom in a a different room than the one he sleeps in? He'd have to go to the green room to shower and get ready. That's such an inconvenience. I think the green room is probably just Phil's room. There's no trace of Phil in the other room either, whereas the green room seems to be more his style. Idt the picture or phil's books being on the shelf confirms anything bc they'd just moved in and might have put whatever they had unpacked on the shelf to make it seem less empty. That bed also seems way too small for two people over 6'. I'm not saying that them potentially not sharing a room/sleeping in the same bed means they're not together. There are numerous reasons why a couple might want to have separate rooms or not share a bed. I just wouldn't take it as a foregone conclusion that they share a room when there's quite a bit of evidence to the contrary.

my haunches go up when i detect a patronizing tone. so forgive me if this comes off as harsh.

'quite a bit of evidence to the contrary' is a very strong claim to make when the pictures we have feature both of their things intertwined; phil's phlonde selfie is in that room; dan says if phil fills this room with cardboard boxes, he'll poo on the floor (if it wasn't his room, why would phil leave boxes in it); they had to have a discussion on putting carpet on the floor vs hardwood (separate bedrooms they couldve done whatever they liked); and dan only ever calls it 'the bedroom'--missing the possessive adjective.

'theres no trace of phil in the other room either' - it'd hard to tell which room you mean here, so i'll cover both. his stuff is in there, firstly. the 'maybe they needed to fill it for a picture' excuse is based off of nothing. next, consider the rest of the house: is there anything in the office that screams phil? what about the kitchen? or the dining room? or the lounge? i think dnp have much more compatible styles than people realize--he even says in the keep or yeet video that he doesnt wear super bright colours anymore. his rooms used to embody 'geek core'--and remember, we haven't seen phil's actual room since their first london apartment. and not that people can't keep their style while they grow up, but maybe his tastes changed. especially when his bedroom was no longer his video background. yknow, the one that was supposed to compliment his online persona and be the main part of his branding?

and the 'green room seems more his style' because the wall is green? there's literally nothing else in that room. no art on the walls, beyond the japan trip bamboo paintings from his dad, nothing on tables, no chairs--we haven't even seen the bed. what in that room seems more phil? not to mention them saying the green towels were in the guest bathroom.

re: the bed. we haven't seen a full picture of the bed. we've gotten the catboy pictures, and it looks to me like there's room for 2 people in it. like maybe they don't own a king bed, but i don't know how a queen mattress wouldn't be able to fit them. (i say this as someone with a double--there's no fucking way it's a double) sure they're long, but be fr.

in terms of the convenience of getting ready--they didn't used to have an en suite bathroom. he can walk, he'll be fine. again, we don't know where the closet is. phil seems like the kind of guy to just hang out in his pjs if he doesnt have to get ready for something. so putting his clothes near the shower/bathroom would be convenient, instead of both of them wrestling over one. and it kind of has to be by a bathroom, as why else would dan need clothes when he had to borrow some when the builders had blocked off his closet?

you're saying this isn't you claiming they aren't together, which, okay fine, but to me it sounds like another person overcomplicating their relationship. why are you so adamant they don't share one? genuinely, all you've presented is theories and opinions supported by no evidence. if they do share one, cool! if they don't, cool!

i don't enjoy being talked down to, and if that wasn't your intention, i apologize, but the way this was presented is very antagonizing.

[saltydoesstuff]

"Amber Eyes" Feral Mikey x Reader

Since I can figure out how to make posts longer I figured I can finally post this here to. It's a couple months old so don't mind the bad writing--

((All characters are 18+ unless stated otherwise)) (CW: mentions of nightmares/sleep paralysis) -------------------------------------------------------------

Huh. You almost forgot how many things you could see when you stared blankly at a flat surface. The subtle grooves in the paint making it seem like there were little funky creatures there. Of course, they were harder to spot when looking at the ceiling- and it was dark-- but that wasn't the point. The point, if any, is that it made a good distraction.

From what? The man in the corner of your room. You couldn't see him well, he blended in with the dark very well- but you could feel his gaze on you. He was watching you, waiting. For what? It's not like you could move at the moment. All you could do is breath harshly through your nose, trying to wake yourself up. It wasn't real, you knew that. It didn't stop the fear though. It didn't stop your heart from pumping in your ears, it didn't stop the heavy sense of dread that felt like it was going to make your chest cave in-- it didn't stop the strong urge to cry out for help. You think what makes it worse is that you can't. So when it all went away, and you opened your eyes again for real- a choked gasp left your lips.

You gripped the blankets that kept you warm, pulling them more over your body like it would protect you. You didn't look around at first, just staring ahead while your body tried to calm down from what feels like a marathon. You hated when this happened. Even worse when there was something with you during. At least the man wasn't on top of you, like how it usually went. After a long moment, you quickly scanned your room to make sure there was nothing there. Corners? Nope. Closet? Also no. The window that had amber eyes staring at you? No- WAIT--

This time a shriek made it's way out, and you undignifiedly got tangled in your blankets while trying to get up and away from the eyes- crashing onto the floor with a thump and a grunt of pain. You heard the window open, and worried sounding chittering followed with the soft clicking of claws against the hardwood. You looked up warily to see Mikey, confused and a bit concerned at your situation. You sighed in relief to see it was just him, giving him a weak smile. "H-Hey buddy, how about we don't stare at people through their windows at night eh? It's creepy."

Mikey chirped and chittered again, but you couldn't understand him. You couldn't understand any of the turtles yet, but they seemed to have some understanding of what you say- if them trying to copy your words tell you anything. The turtle made it over to you and tugged on the blankets that you were currently tangled up in, helping you get unstuck. You appreciated the help, sitting up with a huff, "Thanks.. What are you even doing here? It's the middle of the night."

Mikey copied your huff, mixing in a chuff and pointed a claw at you. "Me?" He nodded, making a softer series of chirps, "Chiirr.. rrrrf-ear." "Fear? You.. saw me afraid?" He nodded again, then glanced around your room- seemingly trying to find the source of what made you scared. You found it endearing, that he wanted to check in on you. Even if he nearly scared you to death in doing so. How were you supposed to explain sleep paralysis to him though? Have any of them experienced it before? You shook her head and smiled gently, "Don't worry, I just had a bad dream." He could understand that, right?

You've experienced Raph having a nightmare once, poor guy was thrashing and snapping at the air in his sleep- clutching his left shoulder. You always wondered what had happened there, the giant dragging teeth marks.. Raph was a big guy, what could have hurt him like that? You tried to not think about it much.

Mikey looked back at you, regarding your expression for a moment. You must have not looked fine to him, because before you fully registered what was happening you were being picked up by your underarms. He maneuvered you gently into a princess carry, and hopped onto your bed. The bed groaned in protest at his weight, but Mikey didn't seem to pay any mind. He held you close to his plastron, resting his chin on top of your head. You blinked, wiggling slightly in his arms to try and get more comfortable. Mikey let you, loosening his hold just enough until you settled- then tightened his hold again. This was happening you supposed. You knew better than to try and escape his cuddles when he wanted them, if you knew anything about the box turtle was that he was persistent. All of them were when they wanted something.

You let out a sigh, resting your head against his chest, "I take it you're going to be staying, then?" He chuffed quietly in response, nuzzling his snout into your hair. They were always so careful how they handled you, so mindful just how different you were compared to them. It warmed your heart to know that they cared about you, that he cared about you like this. You rubbed his upper arm slightly, giving it a small squeeze to show your appreciation towards his gentleness, "I'll take that as a yes."

You could hear his heartbeat through his plastron, it beating steadily. Strongly. It was soothing to hear, but it also made you wonder just how thick their plastron was to be able to hear it so clearly. You'd have to remember to ask later down the line, when you had better ways of communicating with them all. You had no idea how long you both stayed like that, or when your eyelids started to get heavy and close. But when you opened them again, you found yourself in the middle of a turtle pile with all four brothers you had grown close to over the last six months. You supposed the other three grew worried when they couldn't find their youngest brother and went looking for him.

You glanced up at Mikey, whom had fallen asleep at some point throughout the night. He was still holding you securely, his cheek resting against the top of your head. He looked so peaceful like this, even a bit goofy with how his face was semi smushed against your head. You forgot all about the man in the corner. He didn't matter so long as you had Mikey with you.

[foxes-that-run]

Two NYE ago means 2015 NYE right? Since Harry was with that girl, and she was pretty mad at that time, maybe she was reminiscing about their time together and hoping to find someone who'd stay and then after meeting Joe she repurposed it because she thought she found that love she was searching for with Joe. I think most of reputation is her repurposing songs/ideas that were about something/someone else. And Joe just fit but some songs definitely has part Joe in them too. So I guess she succeeded in that bait and switch thing

That video, (which Taylor Nation has cut at 24:38 from their version) is from Chicago 27 June 2018, so she is referring to NYE 2016/17. (side note: Harry was also in Chicago 30 June 2018. In his next show he changed the Lyrics to MMIH to 'running with thieves you'... a few weeks before Hamille ended due to cheating......)

We have been told a few things to tell us she was with Joe then:

In 2018 the Reputation magazines included photos from Stella McCartney's farm in Bishampton (on the pages adjacent to NYD) and in January 2016 Joe posted a photo of himself woods that also had trees... not the same trees, but OK... I guess.

In 2019 in promo for A Christmas Carol Joe told interviewers he swims in Hampstead Heath every christmas, which many linked to Paper Rings, along with a very natural photo of Taylor painting a literal wall. And maybe he does, just him, his family and (long time lcy swim enthusiast) Harry Styles and by chance no one ever photographed or spoke about it.

Then on 30 December 2020 Taylor was hacked and the only photos they got/leaked was 7 (rather odd) images of Taylor and Joe getting ready on that new years eve. Amazingly they had access to Taylor Swift's camera roll and only leaked 7 PG images that placed her with Joe the at the time of a story Taylor Nation edited out of one of their videos about an icy swim on NYE, almost on the anniversary of when they were taken. (The 7 Photos were in 2 drops, the proper (non-mirror) selfies leaked October 2021.)

So why do I doubt this? Any alternative version is pure speculation we don't know where Taylor was NYE 16/17. But the edited video is weird, and I find the above odd.

FIrstly New Year's Day seems like an 1989 outtake to me, the story also fits the NYE 2012/13 Haylor Kiss that did involve hardwood floors, a Taxi in which to squeeze hands, a lobby girls could carry shoes in and an insane crowd that did make it hard and probably made them feel lost. And she looked ready to cry performing it while she was dating Joe?

Where was Harry on New Years Eve 2016/17?

Well he was spotted with Taylor on 28 December 2016 in Liverpool. Within a few days, one of his friends signed a record for Taylor to gift Austin Swift. Austin thanked the band who replied "when someone asks you to sign a record for their "friends little brother' and the friend turns out to be Taylor Swift."

After being missing for a few days he was next seen taking photos with fans in Holmes Chapel (1.5 hours drive from Stella's farm) on New Years Eve.

But wait! Taylor said she and Joe had been together for 3 months in the Lover Journal? What she said was "we" maybe that was Joe and we didn't find out for another 5 months. Or maybe she was with someone else.... in this entry shaped like a butterfly.

Updated with more.. so I question adding this and need to cavet that haylorsecrets was an account that claimed to have inside info from Taylors PR office and lost the inside connection (in hindsight after Taylor fired her publicist before Tree in 2014) they then had a friend who fed them some info. It may have all been made up, but they were right about some things. Looking for another post I saw these where she posted in February 2017 that Harry and Taylor had been together at christmas. (x, x)

[kidstemplatte]

I recently got a puppy and I had a thought- could you write headcannons/ fic about Terzo’s daughter wanting a puppy and he can’t say no to her even though he’s a cat person/ has cats.

okay several things first. yay, new puppy!! also of course!! this prompt instantly made me think of a meme i’ll put at the end of the fic hehe.

dad! terzo getting a puppy headcanons 🐾

^ okay it’s crazy that the picture i found of terzo with a dog just happens to be with a dachshund, i found it after i wrote this teehee.

“la mia stellina… i will get you anything in the whole world… just, please, not a dog.” terzo PLEADS his daughter, fighting to not succumb to her puppy dog eyes (fitting in this situation)

-“pleeeaaaase, papa!” she begs.

-“absolutely not.”

-“why not?”

-“there is no way in heaven we are getting a dog. we already have a cat.

-“binx needs a friend!” she says.

-“then it will be another cat. no puppies. no.”

-before he knows it, there is a baby dachshund now residing in his home.

-he sighs. ”you chose a… weiner dog?”

-“she’s a dachshund, papa! and she’s so cute!”

-it’s a weiner dog. yes it is. i literally do not accept any other hc. if terzo had a dog it would be a weiner dog. it’s short and silly just like terzo.

-“her name is farfalle.”

-“why farfalle? looks more like a sausage to me.”

-“because it sound pretty, papa! don’t be mean!”

-farfalle instantly takes a liking to terzo, she’s loving to everyone, but terzo more than anyone else.

-he’s not particularly fond of it. she tugs at his robes and jumps onto his lap and licks at his face paint.

-one day, as he’s relaxing in his dad chair™, he hears farfalle pitter-pattering across the hardwood floor. he’s preparing himself to scold her for chewing on his perfectly polished shoes, instead the footsteps come to a halt. suspicious.

-he looks down and sees her patiently sitting beside his feet, tilting her head and looking up at him with big eyes.

-he sighs. “fine.”

-he pats his leg and she jumps into his chair, curling up in his lap.

-he had to admit, it was kind of… cute.

-yeah, they become best friends after that.

-he and his daughter practically fight for her attention.

-farfalle follows him around ALL THE TIME while she’s at school and he lets her.

-sister imperator scolds terzo for letting her roam the church but he declares that he is papa, and he makes the rules.

-spends so much money on her. buys her a tempur-pedic dog bed and a gucci collar.

-primo tells terzo if the dog ever messes up even a single flower in his perfect garden she is going to become a nice sausage roll.

-but terzo insists that his little farfalle MUST see the garden. so he buys a stroller and goes on walks with his daughter while he wheels her through the garden. yeah. the clergy makes fun of him, but he doesn’t care.

-sings her the weiner dog song, if you know you know.

long story short:

i hope you enjoyed!!! tysm for your request! sorry i haven’t posted a fic in a while my mind is a wreck and college is weird!😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 more stuff is coming i promise!

/)/) ( . .) ( づ♡ thank you for reading!

-alice

[pointpilot]

Nagito's Past Time

summary: Nagito takes up painting as a hobby, Hajime wonders why. Takes place in my college au. Also a little angsty. ....

NOTE: HERES THE FIC! it was going to continue but i felt as if it was lengthy enough so enjooooy...you don't need to know a lot about my college au to get the story but if you're curious shoot me an ask ;3 ~~~

More often than not Nagito would slip away whenever it came to the proposition of a get together. Waving his pale, muted hands in a motion asking for forgiveness, letting out a timid smile, he’d come up with some coincidence that seemingly worked in his favor.  Hajime picked up on this pattern the more he saw it. Obviously Nagito is a weird dude, everyone knew that. Even then this was too weird for him. 

During class, Hajime impatiently tapped his pencil on his desk so hard he’d break it. Didn’t take long at all for someone to ask him to stop, snapping out his thoughts on what Nagito could be doing. Although the Reserve Course building was farther from the main building on campus, he didn’t see Nagito at all during his usual walks around campus. 

Damn it Nagito. What’s up now?

Waiting for his final class to end was grueling. Thankfully he wouldn’t have to endure the pain anymore as class finally ended. Hurriedly, he gathered his belongings and rushed to the door. Just then a blurb of yellow swished in front of him.

Natsumi stretched her arms out in front of Hajime’s barrier between him and his escape. 

“Woah there, what’s the rush for?”

She had a smirk proudly displayed on her face.

“It’s really none of your business.” Hajime replied flatly. “Could you move please? I’ve kinda got somewhere to be.” Hajime attempted to shuffle around the young woman, but failed every time. He wasn’t sure what he expected from someone belonging to a Yakuza family when it came to reaction time.

“I think it is my business, smartass. The whole class you’ve been all fidgety. Even if I don’t like you much, you're still Fuyuhiko’s friend.” Hajime slumped his shoulders. “We look out. So tell me, what’s going on?” 

“Right…Well, Nagito’s been disappearing way too often. I’m just worried for his well being.” Hajime seemed to have a staring contest with the hardwood floor before hearing a snicker. 

“You’re a loyal dude, y'know? I don’t feel too comfortable checking up on someone as secretive as him. Maybe he’s up to something.” Hajime had more questions than before. Because he’s a weird dude, does that mean he’s hiding something malicious? 

Natsumi moved aside. “Goodluck with that, but be careful!” She laughed once more, walking back to her belongings at her desk. 

Even something as slight as the crunching of leaves beneath his sneakers, even the ambiance of Towa City made Hajime rethink his choice as he walked up the dorms. Reaching Nagito’s dorm Hajime slowly knocked. Reaching feverishly he knocked on the door impatiently after a few seconds.

With some mechanical noises of the door, it had unlocked.

“Hajime?” His pale green eye was only visible through the door, then fully opening it. “Ah I’m so glad you’ve come to see me!” Nagito smiled ever so warmly, it almost made Hajime sick. He looks the best he’s ever been. Maybe Nagito is just an introvert, and he feels more comfortable by himself? He shouldn’t have meddled at all, he thought. 

“Uh, yeah…How come you didn’t show up today? I didn’t see you on campus.” Hajime had a vice grip on his schoolbag, still in his uniform and all. 

“Come inside, I’ll tell you all about it.” Nagito promised pleasantly. 

Oh well. Hajime did this to himself. Why not? 

Upon opening the door, Hajime is greeted with an old regular looking dorm,  with a burgundy and dreary coloration.  Though, what he saw next was not too regular.

Turning a corner, Hajime is further greeted with a full on mini artist studio in Nagito’s room. An easel with fresh blotches of paint, soon to turn into a concise picture, is where Hajime focused the most. Above that was a wall that had about two or three paintings hung.

“Here’s my getaway.” He refreshingly sighed.

Hajime could barely pick his jaw up from the ground. “This is where you run off to?” He exclaimed. Nagito had a flat expression on his face as his eyes looked away. “It’s just pictures…I don’t get it. Cant you do this any other time?”

“Not at all.” Nagito gave an expression of I knew this would happen, like a sense of predictability. 

Hajime sat on the bed, brushing away some paint brushes. This is stupid. That’s like running away to play video games when people want to legitimately hang out with you. Well, okay. Chiaki does that but it’s different because she lets people know ahead of time.

“I’ll try to make it brief.” Nagito sifted around a shelf filled with paintings and sketchbooks.

“Luck is essentially crippling to me. Unlike the greatness of Makoto’s, mine is half and half.” Hajime watched the lanky young man pull out numerous paintings and sat them on the bed. “If anything amazingly “lucky” happens to me, my luck gets flipped on its head like a coin. It comes back worse. Then the cycle repeats.” 

Hajime could only hold his school bag on his lap tighter. “I see…What’s this have to do with painting? I mean, in high school you showed no interest in art.”

“Painting is the only activity I’ve found that doesn’t harm anyone in any way. I’m alone, occupied, and innocent people are safe from my harm.” Nagito then held up a painting of peaceful scenery, and distorted self portraits of himself towards his friend.

“I discovered it some time ago, but now realize how great it is for my friends' safety.” He softly sat them down on his desk as he turned away to his window. “The only reason I didn’t show up at school today was because I was feeling particularly unlucky today.” He bitterly chuckled. 

Akin to witnessing a wounded animal, the urge to rush towards Nagito and sweep him into an embrace clung to him. Hajime felt his stomach pull and twist itself into knots. 

“How come…” Hajime shifted on the bed uncomfortably. “...how come you didn’t tell anyone? Or even me?” 

“No need to burden you with such information. Besides, wasting your precious brain power on a nobody like myself is only a waste of time.” Nagito could only stare through his room’s window. Hajime couldn’t tell how his friend felt, his back turned and all. 

“You’ve really gotta stop with all this nonsense.” Hajime’s worried expression soon turned into a slight frown of disappointment, slightly wrinkling his face. Nagito remained motionless.

“I mean, I don’t know the full extent of your luck, but you would have benefited from letting any of your friends know. Just getting your emotions out helps.” Hajime rose from the bed to then put his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I’m glad you found a loophole for your luck but…I-Hmr, We miss you.”

With a slow turn, Nagito gently embraced the other man, with Nagito’s arms snug around his neck. 

“Forgive me Hajime…This is the only way to keep the people I hold close to me safe.” Nagito bitterly sighed into Hajime’s shoulder. “My own personal hell is just unfixable. You better leave before my luck gets you too.” Hajime grunted as he bit his lip in somber frustration. He can’t just leave. This is his friend, his best friend even. Although Nagito gets on his nerves more often than not, there’s something about him that makes him worth protecting. 

The paintings on the walls contorted and deformed around Hajime, it nearly made him sick. At the end of the day he had to respect his friends wishes, didn't he? 

“No.”

Hajime clutched Nagito’s body deeply, Nagito felt as if he’d crumble underneath him. “If I died right now, it wouldn’t even matter to me.” 

Did I really say that!? Hajime pulled himself away, stammering out incomprehensibles. “What I mean is, I won’t let your stupid luck ruin what we have.” He straightened himself, the awkwardness being thrown over his shoulder, “Look, has anything terrible happened to me because of your luck?” 

Nagito thought, then slowly opened his mouth. Hajime cut him off with an “Exactly.” 

Frankly, Hajime felt nervous. This is the most brave he's ever been when it came to expressing feelings. Feelings he didn’t even know he had. 

“So, come on, let’s get out of here, this dorm is getting me all bummed out…” Hajime grabbed his hand to usher him out the bedroom door. 

“Do you have to grab my hand?” Nagito turned to Hajime with a know-it-all smirk. 

The man glared back and forth between their entangled fingers. Hajime felt Nagito tighten his grip, causing him to look away, letting out a flustered but strained shut up!

[samcatcher]

When in London.

chapter 4. masterpost

“Do you have any siblings?” Sam asked me as we walked out of the house and onto the quiet street.

“Yeah, just one. I have an older brother called Michael. He lives in central Paris.” I replied.

“That’s cool. Your house must have been quiet growing up. I have 3 siblings who are all musically inclined. You probably remember.” Sam added and laughed a little.

“I remember your brother who used to work at the market, that’s all. I thought he was your only sibling. I thought it weird how some days he would be kinda quiet and some days he would be loud. It was like he was two different people.” I said.

Sam started laughing.

“He was two people. My brother jake. They’re identical twins.” He said through laughter.

“What? No way. So is the twin in the band? Is that the brothers you were referring to sharing a hotel room with?” I asked fast, shocked.

“Yes. Now I hope you see why I wanted to avoid that at all costs.” Sam smirked.

“I do see that now. Who’s the other sibling then?” I laughed and then phrased my question.

“My older sister Ronnie. She’s cool but she’s not too interested in the band.” Sam stated.

“So you’re the baby?” I asked, trying not to tease because I knew I was too.

“Just like you.” Sam added in the same tone.

A bus later, we ended up at the nearest hardware store. Sam pushed the cart and I followed him to the wall of paint samples and build your own buckets.

He seemed uninterested at first but once I stared at him despairing, his poker face dropped and he turned into his passionate decorator mode. Immediately scanning the wall and picking out samples I can narrow down to one color.

He eventually held about ten samples of different colors. All giving off a different vibe from each other. My eyes were set on this beautiful orangey peach color. 

“See the greens are good if you want some sort of nature themed room. Living in London probably isn’t as naturistic as Michigan so you might wanna get back to home. Although these pink colors work really well with plants. So either way I guess you're turning your room into somewhat of a forest. If that’s what you were going for anyway.” Sam explained passionately. I made sure I took in every word.

“I do have a lot of plants.” I said smiling, I picked up the peachy sample from his hand and looked at it one more time.

“What do you think?” I added.

“I think it’s absolutely perfect.” Sam answered.

Somewhat impulsively, I decided to get two cans of the peachy color my eyes were set on from the get go. I found it immensely summery and perfect compared to the dark green leaves on all of my house plants.

We got various paintbrushes and rollers too. I also got a small can of plain white because all of my furniture was that color and Sam told me he had a trick to patch up white furniture that's been stained or chipped. 

We called a cab back to the house, Sam insisted on paying for it, I let him. 

We struggled to take everything up the stairs, Danny and Amelia weren't there so we just assumed they had gone to do something in London together as a family.

Sam helped me put a giant tarp down onto the hardwood floor, we taped it extra carefully to the floor and baseboard, so that we were sure not to get any paint on the ground. We put tape on the top of the white baseboard also, and over the plugs and light switches. Taking extra precautions.

Once everything was protected, Sam brought in all of the supplies and opened the first can of paint. We stared in awe at the beautiful orangey pink color. And I imagined how it would look on my currently white walls. I was filled with excitement, a massive smile crept on both of our faces.

I lent Sam an oversized white t-shirt. He didn’t have any spear shorts but he didn’t mind. He said he had better pairs at home anyway. He went to the bathroom to change.

Suddenly my phone started to ring, obviously it was Jean.

I was quick and blunt with the conversation, I didn't feel bad because I had the excuse that I was about to paint, I didn't tell him that I was painting with Sam though because it would just cause problems. Jean has always been jealous, so I knew that if I was talking to another guy while he was in an entirely different country, it wouldn't sit well with him.

After a quick 'I love you bye' I put the phone down and put it on to not disturb it. I didn't need any more distractions from him.

Sam came in about 3 minutes later. His hair was pulled into a tight messy bun, the shirt I lent him was oversized on him just as much as me, you could barely see the shorts. He noticed this and tucked one corner of the shirt into his shorts to make it look less large.

“let's get to work then, are you sure about this?” he asked and raised an eyebrow. 

Then he smiled suddenly as I nodded. He started on the wall with the window on it. Carefully dragging his paintbrush along the seam of the window, so that it didn't graze the windowsills and window frame. Watching him do it was mesmerizing, he was so precise with his hands.

I chose the wall which held my own door to the balcony, I did what Sam did and carefully made my way along the edge of the doorframe. About five minutes of painting went on, and suddenly Sam stopped, looked at me and shook his head. Then he walked out of my room.

Then 2 minutes later he walked in with a Bluetooth speaker he must have brought with him.

“There's no way we can paint without music, Lyla.”

It tingled in my lips as he said my name.

I laughed and let him choose what to play, he didn't even ask for my opinion on what he should put on, he said he wanted to play something he knew I would like.

Joni Mitchell's Blue.

I loved that album, I pretended that I just liked it, he seemed like the 'I told you so' type so I didn't want him to get too cocky on his assumption.

The songs played and we sang along while we covered my walls in the peachy shade. The more the walls were covered the brighter and more me the room felt. Sam's wall was halfway done after the album finished, and mine was about a quarter.

As soon as it finished he went back over to his phone, and without 10 seconds to spare he hit play on Don McLean's American Pie, god Sam had taste.

Halfway through the first and iconic song on the album he stopped painting and started to sing and approach me. Then he took my hand in his and spun me around, we shitty danced for about a minute. Finally, I giggled and said;

“Come on, we have to finish painting! You have a show soon.”

He grunted and looked up at the ceiling.

“As soon as that show is over, I'm coming right back up here. We're finishing this tonight!”

I laughed and shot him a 'sure we will' look. Then he smirked and went back to painting his section of the wall.

About 2 hours had gone by, Sam's wall was completely finished and he had approached the wall next to it, the wall in which my bed would be against.  My wall was just about finished too, so I moved onto the wall that housed my bedroom door.

After American Pie he chose the classic Hunky Dory by David Bowie. This one was one of my all time favorites. Especially when I had just got to France, I listened on repeat. I vocalized how much I loved this album, and he smiled so genuinely, then wiggled his eyebrows.

“You seem the type.” He said as he focused on his wall.

I smiled.

This time I initiated the dancing, and he didn't resist, he grabbed my hands immediately and spun us around, while we sang to the chorus of 'Oh! You pretty things.' And in a fit of laughter, I collapsed against the wall behind me, which was covered in wet paint.

“Oh shit!” I said, trying to get a good look at my back, Sam laughing next to me.

“It looks quite cool actually, I don't think you should keep wearing that though, you might spread that peachy infection around the house.” He laughed.

I groaned and looked through my suitcase that I had moved into the kitchen. I found a shirt that I had taken from Jean's closet and put it on, leaving the messed up shirt in a carrier bag next to my suitcase.

I walked back into my room to find Sam still painting, and I felt bad because he needed to be at the pub in half an hour.

“Hey Sam…” I leaned against the doorframe, he turned around quickly

“Didn't you say you needed to be at the pub by 4?”

Immediately he checked his watch and saw it was 3:31, then he began to frown. He took a step back and took in what we had done already, then he said

“I'll be back... tonight. Don't you dare go to sleep before I come back.”

I laughed and shook my head, then he grazed my arm lightly and looked at me to tell me he genuinely meant it. Then he trailed out of my room and I heard him go downstairs.

I decided to paint for about 20 minutes longer, but without Sam in the room with me it was just boring. There was only a quarter left to do. 2 walls were completed and the other two walls were halfway done. So I decided I'd do what Sam said and not paint anymore until he's back from his show.

I made sure the paint in the paint tray was used, and then I cleaned the paintbrushes and rollers in the bathtub with paint thinner, making sure that it didn't dry on the brushes and deem them unusable.

Sam left at 3:45, stressing he wouldn't get there in time. He had been gone for about an hour so I assumed everything was fine. I didn't get his number or anything so there wasn't a way for me to ask right now.

I decided to order myself some food, as a celebration for the day and for the work Sam and I had gotten done. I got him a carbonara but I didn't know if he'd want it, so I put it in the fridge for anyone to eat. Amelia didn't come back, so I assumed she went to watch her brother play.

I was hoping Sam would invite me to come and watch, but I think he was hoping I'd ask, so the subject just got dropped.

I spoke to Jean for a while and changed into some pajamas. I went down into the living room because my room smelled strongly of paint.

At around 10:30 I started getting tired, but Sam's words were circling in my mind. I watched a few movies I had loved since I was a teenager, the sofa was still in its bed form, so I decided to get cozy in there. Since Sam and Danny were gonna come home late and probably wouldn't want to have to set up the sofa bed.

It was funny, we only had one sofa bed but two sofas, so Amelia and I heard Danny and Sam arguing about who gets the bed and who gets the sofa. Eventually, Sam told me, they settled on taking turns, and it was Sam's turn for the bed tonight.

I felt myself drifting off but tried my best to stay awake so I could finish painting my room with him, but I just couldn't fight the sleep that was bubbling up inside. Eventually I gave in. Not realizing where I was falling asleep.

-

I woke up to the blinding sun. I was confused about where I was, all I could smell was the aroma of deodorant and paint, and I could feel a warmth against my back.

I sat up and looked down at a sleeping Sam next to me. Facing away from me, but he was taking up almost all of the bed. Paint was on his hands and arms, and a small bit on his face. He was completely out of it. The gig must have made him so tired. Danny wasn't there on the other sofa, the only people in the room were me and Sam.

Suddenly, the tiredness in my mind changed to everlasting guilt.

I reached to find my phone but it wasn't anywhere near me. I needed to see if Jean had texted me, and I needed to act normal. He doesn't know I just shared a bed with a man I met 2 nights ago.

I realized it was upstairs in my unfinished room still, so I gently crawled out of bed. I didn't need to be gentle though, Sam was so out of it.

I walked up the stairs and into my room. Which wasn't unfinished at all.

The tape was removed, the tarp was gone, and every wall was painted. It wasn't patchy or rushed, it was perfect, it looked like a second or possibly third coat had been applied to the walls as well. Sam wasn't lying when he said that it needed to be done tonight.

I snapped out of the trance that the walls had put me into, and grabbed my phone from the middle of the room. I quickly unlocked it and rang Jean straight away.

I made my way to the balcony, because my room still smells like paint, and the walls were still wet. It was 11 am though, so I wondered why the paint was so fresh smelling.

Jean and I spoke for a while about how we slept. We planned what we were going to do when he got to London. After about 15 minutes we ran out of things to talk about, so I put the phone down and just appreciated the morning breeze.

About 5 minutes of staring into the sky, Amelia texted me

“Hey Lyla, I completely forgot to tell you, Danny and I are at our cousin's, we went there straight after the gig, we should be home by dinner time!”

That explains why the house was so empty.

I pondered for what felt like hours about sharing the bed with Sam. I knew I shouldn't be guilty because I didn't feel him getting in the bed with me, and I didn't intend for him to. But I realized it was kind of my fault for falling asleep in the place that I knew he would end up sleeping in. He literally told me it was his turn on the sofa bed that night.

I then wondered, why did he? He could have woken me up?

Then it hit me. He could have slept on the other sofa. He chose to get in that bed with me.

I put my hands over my face and then ran my fingers through my hair. Wondering why he would do this.

About 30 seconds after my realization that there was absolutely no reason for him to have gotten into bed with me willingly, my thoughts were interrupted by my stomach.

I walked into the kitchen and decided to make a full English fry up for me and Sam. Especially for Sam, to say thank you to him for finishing my room while I was sound asleep. In his bed.

I guess the smell woke him up. Because when I was just about to plate up the breakfasts, I saw him sheepishly walking up the stairs, rubbing his eyes and yawning, he went into the bathroom without acknowledging me, then came out 5 minutes later, face washed, hair up, but still in paint stained pajamas.

He came up behind me and looked at the breakfasts on the plate. Mouth wide open.

“Oh my god, what is this?” He was shocked, someone had never seen a fry up before.

“It's about the only thing I can cook.- I laughed -Here, the plates, we can eat it on the balcony it's warm out there.”

We both walked out to the balcony, Sam holding the plates and me holding two glasses of orange juice. Then Sam went back inside and came out with a chair from the kitchen.

We both sleepily ate our food in our pajamas. Sam kept closing his eyes and shaking his head to tell me it was good.

I decided not to bring up the bed thing. He was probably just tired and would rather have slept on a bed than on a couch, and he probably didn't even notice I was there. I was under the covers to the far left, and he was on the right.

We both finished at almost exactly the same time.

“Thank you by the way, I didn't expect you to finish my room without me there, it was shocking going up there this morning and seeing it so perfect.” I laughed and tilted my head to smile. Like I was posing for a photo.

Sam blushed slightly and shook his head. “It was nothing really... I wanted it to be finished for you when your furniture comes.”

I nodded and put my legs up on the small table in front of me, Sam did the same, our feet were touching slightly.

“Do you wanna come to the pub we're playing at tonight?” Sam said after some moments. He looked at me nervously.

“Yes of course I would.” I said affirmatively, smirking at him.

We sat in a comfortable silence for 20 minutes after that. I was happy that he had invited me. I would never have invited myself.

Then he excused himself to go and get dressed.

Eventually he came back out onto the balcony wearing a thin white sweatshirt and a pair of black cotton shorts. And we started the day staring at the sky together.

chapter 5

[oneweirdbookaddict]

Whumptober day five

Wars has a bad time. Wind witnesses. And also gets beat up.

734 words

Warnings for general Cia creepiness, nonconsensual touching that isn't described much, and just on the shoulder, and one (1) bad word. Let me know if anyone wants anything else!

Edit: Forgot to mention this gets a continuation tomorrow!

~~~~

Wars stares up at the room. 

Slowly walks in. 

He hesitates, glancing in. It’s a beautiful room- dark, hardwood floors, gorgeous windows that allow light to spill through, decorated with paintings and tapestries and other works of art. 

But Wars is focused on something on the floor in the center of the room, looking almost… unsteady as he walks. 

He follows Wars into the room, frowning. “Wars? You ok?” He asks, and Wars nods slowly. 

But he clearly isn’t. He’s pale, eyes wide, hand gripping his sword. 

The second he steps into the room, the door behind them slams shut. 

Wars’ already wide eyes widen further. “Wind-” 

But before the captain can finish his sentence, something slams into him and sends him flying back. 

“Wars!” he yelps, grabbing his sword. 

Before he can even look around, a dark purple something slams into him and sends him into the door. Head smacking painfully, seeing stars before he can shake it off. 

“Cia.” He can hear Wars choke. 

“Well, hello there. It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?” A woman’s voice says. And then there’s a horrible crunching sound, a yell of pain, and a woman laughing. 

“Wars!” He yells, scrambling to his feet. Follows the noise- 

“Wind! No!” 

Too late. Something- a whip- gets him right in the side, cutting through his skin easily. He leaps back, hand grasping at his side. 

“Wind- run!” 

“Like hell.” He mutters. 

Raises his sword and charges at the woman- only to get blasted back again immediately. 

He tumbles to the ground, body aching. Something in his arm is broken, he can tell quickly. His side is bleeding badly. And his head spins and aches. 

His eyes widen, catching movement- and he manages to roll out of the way just in time.

The whip-thing slams into the ground where he was just a moment ago, cracking the ground and sending debris flying everywhere. 

The villain- he can no longer remember what Wars had called her- laughs. 

He yells in fustration, glaring at the woman- sorcerer- thing. “Give us a fair fight!” 

Breathes past the awful pain in his side, gritting his teeth. 

“Oh, child. There’s no such thing as a fair fight. You take advantage of your enemy’s weakness or you lose.” 

A smile that chills him to the bone. 

“And it took a few tries, but I found out just how to do that with him!” 

And she walks over to Wars, a hand brushing lightly over his cheek. The captain flinches, eyes closing. A bloody gash over his eye looks awful, his knee is… something is definitely very wrong with it. This is bad. 

“You leave him alone.” He growls. 

“Sailor.” Wars says quietly. 

“Leave him alone!” He demands, ignoring his friend. 

“Wind, enough!” Wars snaps, but the captain once again flinches as the woman’s hands brush over his shoulders. 

“He looks just like you. Bit too old to be yours, though, isn’t he?” The woman whispers. He can hear it, anyway. He’s sure that was her intent. 

Rage flashes through Wars’ eyes, but that’s the only reaction the captain gives. 

“Let him go, Cia. It’s me you want, not him.” The captain says quietly. 

“No!” He shouts, but both people ignore him. 

The woman- Cia- considers this. 

“And what will you do, in return? Huh, hero? I let him go. What do I get out of it?” She asks, almost teasingly. 

Wars’ eyes close again. “I’ll- I’ll go with you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? I’ll go with you. Willingly. Just… let him go. Don’t hurt him.” 

A long moment of tense silence. He shakes his head frantically, but Wars won’t look at him. 

Then- Cia waves her hands, and magic slams him to the ground. 

“We have a deal.” The sorcerer says, taking Wars’ arm and helping him to his feet. 

“No!” He screams again, trying to shove himself to his feet, to sit up, to do anything, but his body won’t move. “No! Wars! Wars! You leave him alone- don’t touch him! Hey! You listening to me?! You’d better hope I don’t get up because I’m going to find your sorry ass and kill you!” He screams. 

Cia laughs as they slowly walk away, the captain limping heavily. 

“Oh, child. I wish you the best of luck.” 

And they’re gone.

~~~~

[staticspaces]

The Christmas Disney House

Here is the link to the video in case you haven't seen it already!!

https://youtu.be/1sSRDbk8T2c

For our final post from this location, let's look at the main floor as well as the flooded basement!!

Here we have another abandoned house that looks as though it was vacated around Christmas time.  There is a calendar on the wall from 2014 and it is opened up to the month of December. The house is semi packed up with a couple of rooms with boxes full of items left behind.  Some of them include Christmas decorations like wreaths, lights and dickens houses there is also a Christmas tree in the basement that looks as though it was set up when the owners moved out.  There are so many other interesting items to see in this house but you will have to watch the video to see what they all are.

I had originally driven by this home a few months ago and at the time it looked active, or at least the property did.  Because of this I was very surprised to see the calendar from 8 years ago!  I really am curious as to what happened to the people that lived here, why would they leave so much behind.

Built in 1975, this house screams discreet 70s decor, with lots of beige paint, tiled bathtub enclosures, hardwood floors and even some wood panelling for good measure. This property is up for redevelopment and the home will be demolished in the very near future!

[hannahssimblr]

Jude Turner

Are you named after anyone?

That Beatles song. My mom is a fan. 

When was the last time you cried?

...A while ago

Do you have kids?

Nope. Maybe one day. 

Do you use sarcasm?

My favourite. 

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Whether or not they seem fun. I don’t know how to explain it, maybe it’s something in the eyes, but you know by looking at someone and being around them whether they’re going to be easy to be around or whether conversation will be like dragging blood from a stone. I get pulled towards people who I can laugh with. 

What’s your eye colour?

Brown. 

Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, I actually watch a lot of traditionally girly movies, partially because my girlfriend Astrid wants to watch them , but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy them. The other week I was home alone and I watched A Walk to Remember. Not at all a bad flick. 

Any special talents?

I’d be bragging if i told you, wouldn’t I?

Where were you born?

New Mexico, USA. Very exciting, I know. Desert baby. 

What are your hobbies?

Recently I’ve been rock climbing a lot, my friends and I go every Wednesday night. Also I like drawing, painting, designing, photography, going to parties, hanging out with friends... long walks on the beach... 

Have you any pets?

As if my mom would have had a dog running around on her hardwood parquet floors. The answer is no, never. But If you were wondering, I’m a cat man. 

What sports do you play/have played?

My dad was really into me playing basketball when I was a kid, but when we moved to Ireland it wasn’t really an option in the same way that it was in the states. I joined the school rugby team, my dad doesn't care about rugby, but I liked it. I play football (soccer football, not gaelic), tennis, i like running, as I mentioned before, rock climbing, kayaking, I really enjoy using my body for stuff.

How tall are you?

6 foot 3. 

Favourite subject in school?

Probably art, but also history, english, physics, german... I was exempt from learning Irish so I took applied maths instead. I liked school, okay? Shoot me. 

Dream job?

Lately I’ve got my mind set on something more photography based, perhaps. I recently heard a story about a woman who walked across the Australian outback with a photographer from National Geographic. That job - to photograph someone like her and go on journeys like that. That’s the dream.