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galaxysgal · 5 months

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winter sleepover!! carmy 🔥 indoors and the fire is also for “please make it spicy” 🫢

sex by the fire || carmen berzatto

pairing: carmy x fem reader

warnings: NSFW 18+ p in v unprotected and all that jazz. just soft vanilla sex. and cookies !!

a/n: this is unedited and unbeta’d bc i am so so sleepy. thanks sm for requesting 🫶🏻🫶🏻

a weekend getaway in a secluded little cabin in the woods was exactly the kind of break you needed. fall semester had been hell for you and your boyfriend was well aware of that, which is exactly why he’d booked this trip. sydney was perfectly capable of running the restaurant for a few days, and everyone knew not to call carmy unless it was absolutely necessary. that left the two of you with the peace and quiet you both desperately needed.

the trip had been a complete surprise. carmy had packed your bags for you, picking you up from campus after your last exam with a mischievous grin on his face and whisking you away for the weekend. the cabin was downright adorable, just a single room with a large bed, a little kitchenette, a bathroom off to the side, a couple arm chairs and a TV by a big window, overlooking a gorgeous view of the lake. and of course, the fireplace.

it had taken the two of you a few tries to get the fire going, but now you were rewarded with the gentle warmth and the soft crackling sound as the fire burned steadily behind the iron grate.

you lounged on the bed, snuggled up between the many decorative pillows, waiting patiently as carmy placed a pan of cookies into the stove. he set a timer, tossed the dirty dishes in the sink to be dealt with later, and made his way back to you.

“hey baby,” he whispered, crawling into bed beside you. “are you enjoying y’self?”

you smiled at him, all perfect and pretty with his hair mussed and a little dash of flour lingering on his rosy cheek. “very much so,” you murmured. you closed your book and sat it on the bedside table so you could give your full attention to the man in front of you. his eyes shone with love and mischief in the dancing light of the fire, and you couldn’t help but pull him in for a kiss.

he tasted like the bittersweet chocolate chips he’d used in the batch of cookies he’d made, lips warm and pliant as you deepened the kiss. rough palms landed on your hips, pulling you until you rested in his lap.

“so,” you started, pulling away to look him in the eyes. “you gonna fuck me by the fire, bear?”

his parted lips turned upwards into a little grin, hands already roaming up under the hem of your sweater. “well, sweet girl, when you put it like that,” he laughed softly, bringing you in for another kiss as his fingers began to tug at the little bow on your pajama pants. the knot came undone quickly, and you shuffled around until your pants and sweater had been discarded. you sat atop his thighs in nothing but a pair of pretty lace panties, tugging his shirt over his head until your palms could lay flat against his warm, bare chest.

“my pretty boy,” you cooed, kissing along the column of his throat. your hips rolled against his own, the flannel of his pajama pants soft against the inside of your thighs. he was half hard already, you could feel him rubbing deliciously against your core, and a soft whine escaped your lips as he kissed you again. “want you, carm. c’mon.”

carmy chuckled, lifting you off his hips long enough to discard his pants and boxers in one go. then he was pulling you back, pushing your panties to the side and giving his cock a few quick strokes before lining himself up and sliding in. the stretch was familiar, an easy little burn you’d come accustomed to, but it never failed to draw an obscene moan from your lips.

“shh, tha’s it. good girl.” his hips began to shift up into you in gentle strokes, pushing in deep with a muffled groan against the curve of your shoulder.

you hummed in pleasure, slumping against his chest as he planted his feet on the bed for more leverage. “fuck- ‘s so good,” you whimpered, curling in closer and latching your lips onto his neck. any semblance of composure in your voice dissipated, your words coming out as gentle, high pitched whines. “carmen, oh fuck, carmen!”

“sounds so pretty when ya say it like that,” he said, his words nearly a growl as they came through gritted teeth. “fuckin’ angelic. say it again baby, will ya?”

“carmen, jesus- fucking- carmen, please! ‘m gonna-“ your head felt too heavy to hold anymore, but one strong hand supported your chin to draw you in for a delicate kiss. the contrast was exhilarating, sharp thrusts of his hips balanced against the softness of his lips against yours.

without so much as a warning to carmy, your vision was whiting out and your body was coursing with red hot pleasure. your whole figure shook in his arms, lewd moans turning into softer whimpers as he chased his own climax with erratic thrusts.

“fuck- yeah, that’s my girl. jus’ a li’l more baby, you can do it.” he grunted, fingers digging into your hips as he slammed against you. you fell quiet, leaving nothing but the obscene sounds of sweat slick skin over the gentle roar of the fire.

with one final, deep stroke he came inside of you, lips finding yours in a messy and passionate kiss. you could have stayed there in his arms forever, listening to the fire and his soft breathing as the two of you came down from the high. but of course, nothing lasts forever, and it was only a matter of minutes before the kitchen timer rang out, reminding you of the batch of cookies waiting in the oven.

you hummed, rolling off carmy and collapsing into the fluffy mattress. he smiled down at you, thumb running over your smudged lipstick before leaning in for a quick kiss.

“i’ll get the cookies out, an’ then i’ll get ya cleaned up. that sound good?”

you nodded, too sleepy and sated to form any coherent sentence. your eyes fell closed, listening carefully to the sounds around you. the clang of the oven door. the creak of a cabinet door. a soft hiss of pain, probably from your boyfriend touching the still hot pan. water running in the sink. soft footsteps coming back in your direction.

carmy cleaned you up with a warm washcloth, tossing it haphazardly towards the laundry basket and crawling back into bed beside you. the two of you laid there, naked and happy, with the plate of cookies balanced precariously on your thigh. when the sweets were gone and the fire was dying down, you let your eyes flutter closed as you snuggled into his side.

“goodnight, pretty girl,” carmy murmured, moving the plate to the bedside table and wrapping you securely in his arms.

end.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #mags writes #mags’ winter sleepover #mags’ winter sleepover: fics #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear #the bear fx

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tailing-sun · 4 months

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The Transfer Seven (Rainbow High OCs) Bio 7: Magnolia Todd

COLOUR: Magnolia pink

YEAR: First

GENDER: Female

FOCUS: Accessory Design

STYLE: Cozy. Cute. Nostalgic.

QUOTE: “You never grow out of the things you love.”

BIO: Magnolia, or Maggie, or Nolie, or Lia, depending on who you ask, doesn’t have a lot to say to most people, but if one’s thing’s for sure: if she makes you one of her schoolwide-famous custom plushies, you’ve made a friend for life. After social media ads for her online plush store were noticed by some recruiters, she jumped at the chance to switch from her plain ol’ school to Rainbow High and follow her lifelong dream of starting her own toy company. Though not everyone understands her love of dolls and stuffed animals, she’s found her own clique where she’s both inspired and free to be herself, and as the only freshman of the Transfer Seven she’s kind of like everyone’s little sister. She loves to dress and accessorize in a similar way as her plushies—the fluffier, the better. With a sharp mind for business and a heart softer than stuffing, Magnolia’s sure to shake up the industry in big ways.

OTHER:

-Magnolia is autistic and largely nonverbal, only speaking when she feels comfortable and stimulated just enough.

-She gets overwhelmed easily, especially by large crowds, backlogs of assignments, and loud noise. In times of imminent meltdown, she retreats to her room and hides under her mountain of plushies for safety.

-She was born in Rhode Island and is fifteen years old.

-Her special interest/hyperfixation is plushies and dolls, and saves her money to buy her favourites as well as making and selling her own. Her room in the dorm suite has them stacked up to the beams.

-Her comfort object is her fox plushie backpack and she’s never seen without it.

-Fuzzy is her favourite texture and she wants it everywhere all at once—fuzzy slippers, fuzzy jackets, fuzzy backpack, fuzzy socks, fuzzy phone charms, fuzzy winter hats, etc.

-She’s actually quite good at video games, even fighting games, and is a regular at Renzo’s hangouts and tournaments.

-Pepper calls her Nolie, Sienna and Vera call her Maggie, Aubrey and Coral call her Lia, Renzo calls her Mags. She answers to all four nicknames.

-The other six dote on her to the point where it makes her slightly uncomfortable, but even Vera is known to show a kinder side of her personality where Magnolia is concerned.

-She loves pastel colours because they’re easy on her sensitive eyes and make her feel safe. Pinks, purples, and yellows in pale shades are her favourites.

-She wants to join the Sleepover Society.

-In terms of hair, she prefers non-elaborate styles with thick bangs—and plenty of room for big bows and/or decora hair clips.

#digital art #rainbow high #oc #rainbow high oc #character bio #character bios #bio #transfer seven

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twochildreninamoteldemo · 6 months

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hey joey, happy dadfucker friday :)

i'm asking everyone whose opinions i love, so in your world, how and when does deanjohn start?

HAPPY DFF (saturday version) LANA!!! okay i'm a month and a day late to this ask basically, but i finally have the time (company time, heh) to answer this. here's a drabble.

Whatever this turns into begins with a drink. Dean knows his father's taste in whiskey from only sight, not taste, but that changes one winter night when he's twelve. John's always touchier when he's had a few too many, Dean's used to that. And he's used to the tears. He's used to the roughness of his father's beard when John asks to hold him, the redness it'll leave behind on his own chin. He's used to the Marys and the Deans, the way they blur into mumbles. He's used to the way John starts out angry before he dissolves into a slump in whatever armchair--or bed, if there isn't one--the next motel offers. He's used to the ensuing apologies, though Dean's never sure if they're meant for him.

Tonight Sam's at a friend's house for a sleepover, something rarely permitted, but there's something far away about their father this week, something distracted. Dean's seen this before, though it doesn't come around too often. Maybe once every couple of years. It always starts kicks up into a frenzy by the end. Last time John got like this, Sam was five and Dean was nine and John nearly broke his youngest's arm when Sam got too grabby. He was five, and John was drunk, and Dean was crying because he didn't know how to stop it.

And tonight, while Sam probably watches Rugrats while getting a run down on all the episodes he's never watched from a snot-nosed classmate on a grimy suburban basement couch, Dean's feeling the painful grip of his father's hand around his wrist, not angry but forceful, pleading, a slight shake or vibration of his father's fingers. "Mary," he sobs, and Dean knows he's really gone this time.

"Come on, Dad, just lie down--"

But John won't, jerking hard when Dean tries to pry the bottle from his free hand, golden liquid sloshing inside. Dean decides that's a broken cause. One step before another. "Let's sit down," he says.

John's nodding, and his lips speaking incomprehensible words, silent and quick. His lips press together over and over. Mary, Dean reads. It's always the same.

He lets John believe he's making his own decisions, as if his son isn't urging him along to sit on the mattress, the two of them tucked together where the springs force them into a lopsided dip. Dean's nearly in John's lap, and under his weight, his father sighs, wrapping an arm around his waist. John's head is on his shoulder, and Dean finds himself running a hand across his head, through his hair. It's matted and greasy, but Dean finds he doesn't mind that so much. It's his dad's.

Once John is calm, nearly crooning into his son's collarbone, Dean slips the whiskey out of his father's loosened grip, setting it softly on the bedside table next to the yellow lamp and the telephone and the complementary notepad bearing the motel's name at the top of each slip. He lets his arms wrap around John's back, feeling his father's hot breath on his chest, that slowing breathing, almost wet in its heaviness.

Gently, he pushes John until his dad is lying down, but before he can climb off to haul his legs onto the bed, John's pulling him down on top of him, and that's when Dean feels it--something strangely poking at his thigh. He both understands and doesn't--it's something that happens to his own body, but mainly when sneaking a peek at John's skin mags, looking at glossy spreads of beautiful blondes with perfect tits. He's not sure what to make of it now, so he swallows, and lies there awkwardly, afraid to move a muscle. "D-dad?" he asks, shakily.

"Shh-shh--Mary, shh," is the slur of sound that tumbles from John's mouth, big hands wrapping around Dean's jaw, holding his face up. Dean's frozen when his father's lips meet his, scratchy at first, then slimy when he feels a tongue prod at him. It tastes sour, a bit firey. His mouth. The whiskey.

"Dad, stop," Dean murmurs, and the word makes John pause, eyes opening a bit more. Dean's not sure if he really meant it. His father's hands are so big and warm, his face cold, and the roughness of them right, somehow.

"Son?" he whispers, pulling back, licking his lips. "Oh, god, Dean--"

"S'okay," Dean mumbles in reply, shaking. He's heard the girls giggle about their first kisses in the hallways at school between the slam of lockers and the scuff of sneakers on the tile. That's what it was, he realizes. My first kiss. He feels like he should be feeling sick right now, but for some reason, he doesn't. There's something warm in his belly. His heart is pounding, and he wants to curl up beside Sam and forget this ever happened, but his belly is warm.

When he crawls off the bed again, John's head has fallen back onto the mattress and his eyes are closed. The threat of a snore leaves his nose. Dean finds the cap for the whiskey and tucks it away in their duffle bags, then goes over to the radiator to adjust the heat. It's cold in here, he thinks. The snow begins to fall outside.

#this got...way longer than i intended...hope you like it #deanjohn #still tied to me #natural blood stained blonde #john #missmisdemeanor #letters #fanfic by maven

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jayalaw · 11 months

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Vlad Masters in Brighton (Ghost and Molly McGee and Danny Phantom Season 2 Spoilers)

@hcsp1, thank you for helping me brainstorm!

For chronology, assume that season three of Danny Phantom hasn't happened, but the Halloween episode of Ghost and Molly McGee, "Frightmare on Main Street" has.

Brighton seems to have become less safe for ghosts. The Chens stream nonstop, showing off their canister. Having Ollie on Molly and Scratch's side makes a difference, though. When he stops seeing Scratch as evil, he takes notes when asking questions.

Molly starts another en-happifying campaign. She starts building treehouses and temporary shelters in the park. Sure, Brighton doesn't exactly have a homeless population, but a person can never be too careful. It also gives her an excuse to find the cameras on a map that Ollie has marked, so that she can mark safe paths for the ghosts. June doesn't have to know about the counter-campaign, and none of the ghosts will be destroyed.

When she sees the girl in the hat and sweatshirt sneaking around the encampments.

“Hey!” Molly holds out a picnic basket. “Are you hungry?”

The girl turns to leave, but her stomach rumbles. Molly offers the food that she and her dad have made, and Scratch even tossed in some of Grandma Nin's recipes because he had started cooking as well, so that he could feed himself more.

Her name is Dani, and she is camping. Molly expresses worry about being out here as the weather is getting colder. When snow falls in Brighton, it can get freezing. Even though Dani looks dressed for the winter, her parents should pick her up before winter hits. Maybe she can get back before Thanksgiving.

“I’m going to be fine,” Dani says. “Don’t worry.”

Molly doesn't start worrying until seeing signs that Dani hasn't left the treehouses. On the news, the weather warns of snowfall and a snow day soon. Anyone who stays out in that temperature will freeze to death.

“Hey!” Molly greets Dani with hot chocolate in a thermos. “I have an idea!”

She invites Dani for a spontaneous slumber party at her house. Absolutely nothing suspicious about that and Dani can't refuse an invitation. Dani says that Daddy will be worried, but Molly lures her with a promise of space movies.

“The Mars Rover movie just came out! And I know you were looking forward to it!”

“You know me too well.” Dani lets her guard down and smiles. “Fine, I’ll be there.”

Dani for the first time ever sees a family that loves each other. Peter McGee offers her more dumplings. He asks Molly in a whisper if the attic is safe. Molly assures him yes. Because after all, Scratch can choose who sees him. He's going to sneak snacks from the sleepover and still.

They didn't expect Dani to drop the spare set of pajamas that Molly had lent her. She stares at Scratch, who had been helping himself to some fresh popcorn. Scratch also points at her. He says that he can sense she's a ghost. Dani panics and transforms. Silver hair and black pants. She even floats! Scratch prepares to go full Chairman.

“Oh, no! You’re not haunting this attack!” He dons the cloak. “Eh, give me a minute, the sleeves are tight-”

Molly gets between them, saying how cool it is that Dani has powers. She says it's perfectly fine if Dani is a ghost, because her best friend is one! And ghost aren't evil, the snacks are going to get cold, and it's movie night. The space movie isn't going to watch itself. It's supposed to recreate the last moments of the Mars Rover, before it inexplicably comes back to life and returns to Earth.

Dani settles for a truce because of the movies. Scratch settles because of the snacks. And once Dani is snuggled in the sleeping bag -- borrowed, obviously-- Molly tells her she can stay as long as she needs. Her secret is safe within the attic. Just in time, as they watch the snow fall. Means that no one in Brighton will be sleeping tonight.

After breakfast, Molly has dozens of questions. Did Dani step through a portal? Is she a wraith? Can she do stage magic? If so, can she not because Molly hates it with every depth of her soul?

Dani isn't ready to answer everything. No, she isn't a wrath; she is half-ghost. Dani doesn't like stage magic either. She does request no selfies, because someone is chasing her. He can spy through cameras, even those on phones. Molly respects that. Dani does say that there is a person she can call, her third cousin once-removed, but he may not want to talk to her. She's not ready.

They have a plan. Hide Dani in the attic for a few days. Molly keeps it clean, so Sharon doesn't bother her. Then before Thanksgiving, motivate Dani to call her cousin. She doesn't want to talk about her dad, although occasionally she turns her head away when Peter kisses Molly on the forehead. Peter also offers her hugs and says it is nice to see another new face in Brighton.

Just as well, because the Chens are on the prowl. They share with their other ghost hunters that their canister works. June messages the Fentons, asking about their thermos. Something is not right. It shouldn't have caught the evil ghosts on Halloween. June also checks the cameras. Something is shimmering in the cameras, but then vanished. She makes note of it on the vlog, saying that the ghosts must have hunkered down for the winter.

Next thing you know, a familiar van has pulled up next door. Dani spots it and hides in the attic. She would love to go outside and feel the winter breeze in her hair, but Danny Fenton is probably in that van. So is his family.

The kids aren't thrilled about another spontaneous road trip, especially right before Thanksgiving. Their grandmother is going to kill Jack. It's freezing in Brighton, too cold for ghostly investigations. Danny, however, sees his ghost powers activate. But no ghosts are causing trouble. At some point, there would be screaming. Something is suspicious in this town.

He spots someone who looks familiar in the neighbor's attic, and gasps. After blinking, he confirms it is who he thinks it is. Danny asks to excuse himself. Jazz distracts the Fentons by asking the Chens about their tech and winter garden, since it's too cold for chili peppers. June's sensors go off, but Ollie asks if she can help design him snowshoes that would allow him to chase ghosts in the snow. He says that he saw some in the park.

Meanwhile, Dani had her first good night's sleep in weeks. Yet when she spots a translucent head poking through the wood, Dani's about to run. But as she transforms, she starts to ooze. Right, because Vlad never figured out that kink.

Danny powers down. He tells her she doesn't have to fear him. They're family, Vlad or no Vlad. And he has been worried sick about her since she flew away from Amity Park.

Dani stops oozing. She regains control. Then she sits on Molly's bed. Danny joins her. And they talk.

Molly isn't there, shoveling snow for people at the Senior Center. Scratch, however, runs a bubble bath so he won't hear a dozen apologies from a girl who says that she thought the man who created her was a good person. He lied to her and used her. Danny tells her there's nothing to forgive. Vlad Masters lies to everyone. He uses people.

Danny wants his cousin to come live with the Fentons. If he can keep his ghost side a secret, so can she. And he can use the lab to help with her disintegration, to stop it from getting worse. He and Jazz can make up a story at Thanksgiving about a forgotten cousin. Vlad is far away from Wisconsin, far from here. She's safe now.

Neither of them knows that Vlad Masters is one of the Chens' biggest sponsors online. He has taken advantage of the Internet and has a network of ghost hunters, connected in the country. When June's feed shows the image, he can't resist the formulation of a plan.

It seems that the Fentons will pass through town, and Dani will go with them. Molly is relieved and saddened since she always wanted a little sister, and Scratch admits that he'll miss the little kid. Even Darryl complains that he won't have someone who is good at hustling as his other partner-in-crime.

Then a limo pulls up in Brighton. The most expensive mansion there goes up for rent.

“I would know that limo anywhere!” Jack Fenton jumps into the van. “Don’t wait up, for me honey!”

Jack only dings the limo a little when it brakes before he can respond. He goes to shake his best friend's hand and what are the odds they're in the same Midwestern town?

Vlad Masters, eye twitching from the dent, is interested in relocating. He has seen that the town is filled with ghosts. And the mayor is an incumbent.

“Maybe it's time for new blood, especially since November is an election month.” He looks at the town. “And a person like me could make some changes.”

Molly and Danny both freak out as Jack Fenton returns and announces loudly outside the McGee house that the Fentons will stay for as long as Vlad needs to run his campaign. Maddy tries to remind Jack about Grandma and Thanksgiving, while Jazz rolls her eyes. To Molly, it's threatening a mayor who has always tried his best, and none of the treehouses she built are meant to help a family survive the winter.

But to Danny? He knows that any Vlad plan is not a good plan. They can get Dani out of the town and back to Amity Park, but that doesn't solve the problem of how to foil whatever scheme that Vlad has. The Guys in White won't answer any more calls from the Fentons.

Dani is adamant about one thing: they have to update Molly and Scratch. Danny asks who they are, just as Molly returns from shoveling driveways. Scratch freaks out about more ghosts in his space and asks when did the attic become a reception area. This time, Dani calms things down, saying that she can explain. Everyone gets up to date, and Molly's expression changes when she learns who Dani's father is, and how he created Dani.

"Surely... he's not that bad?" she ventures.

"He tortured a teenager- me!" Danny rolled up his sleeve. "Yes, he is that bad."

"I can't believe I’m agreeing with a broody teenager, but that guy sounds really evil!" Scratch adds. "Let me handle him; I can curse him in his sleep to leave Brighton and never return."

"Or I can talk to him," Molly says. "Maybe I can explain that Brighton is very happy with our mayor and he doesn't have to bother with the ghosts around here."

"My plan is better," Scratch grouses. The fact is that Vlad hurt a girl younger than Molly, and he remembers what happened with the Chairman. He doesn't want to take any chances, especially when Frightmares are nearby.

They try going with Molly's plan, with Dani staying in the attic but Danny coming along as backup. When Jazz spots them, she knows when glancing at Danny, and tosses the Ghost Catcher to her little brother.

“So what is that?” Molly asks casually.

“Oh, this split me in two a few times,” Danny replies. “Literally! My ghost half and human half. But I guess Jazz doesn’t want me to trap Vlad in a thermos.”

Molly’s eyes widen. She touches the net part of the Ghost Catcher.

“Eh, I’m not buying it.” Scratch pokes the rod. “Looks like a fancy butterfly net to me.”

They soon make it to the mansion, bundled up and ready to face Vlad. Danny has the Ghost Catcher ready, while Molly prepares to put on the charm.

Neither of them can stop Scratch from going inside the rental mansion, cloak and all.

The cloak flies in the air. Scratch flees from Vlad Plasmius, screaming for the whole while. People point at them.

"Scratch!" Molly looks around. "What do we do?"

"You stay here!" Danny says. "I'm going ghost!"

As he transforms, Molly grabs the Ghost Catcher. It has an on and off-switch. She presses it on, and sets it up on the ground. Then she takes a leap.

The next thing you know, Andrea Davenport is broadcasting a screeching Vlad Plasmius as a yellow wraith chases him down, trying to boop him on the nose. The wraith leaves flowers in her wake while yelling at him to stay away from her best friend. Everyone picks up a dandelion or a daisy.

"Okay, that girl is officially the scariest non-ghost I have met, and I have a gym teacher that made us climb up a rope twenty times," Danny says, watching the trail of destructions and native flowers.

"You have no idea," Scratch agrees. "Donut?"

Danny takes a chocolate frosted one. It's nice having someone on the team fighting by his side.

Molly finally boops Vlad on the nose, sending him crashing to Earth in a mound of flowers and snow well beyond the borders of Brighton. She warns him to never come back to the town or hurt Scratch, or he will have to deal with her. Then she leaves him, and advises him that this is a common highway for ride-shares, so he'll be fine.

Vlad doesn't know who the yellow ghost is, only that she managed to depower him in mid-air, with one touch. But he does like a challenge. After he regains his dignity and manages to find his phone, he sheepishly calls his limo driver to ask for a ride. After all, a future mayor of Brighton can't freeze under a bed of flowers. It's not dignifying for a man like him.

#ghost and molly mcgee #Danny phantom #Dani Phantom #Molly McGee #scratch mcgee #scratch the ghost #Vlad Masters #Vlad Plasmius

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axxxexxxne · 6 months

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Manifestations

Okay manifestation time na naman tayo accla dahil eto lang laman ng utak ko (and ayaw ko mag work right now... zero will to live na naman po tayo, opo)

nakakaaliw yung manifestations ko last year, yung iba dun nagkatotoo!!!

ETO LANG NAMAN LAGI KO NAIISIP...

If... IF I HAVE ALL THE MEANS IN THE WORLD, IN WHATEVER ASPECT, THIS IS MY DEFINITION OF A PERFECT LIFE:

Houses - Just came back from the PH and I realized na nakakapagod pala talaga na palipat lipat ng place. May bahay kami sa Sta Lucia pero dahil nga sa sakit ni Tita Adelaine, di well-maintained ang place. Di rin ako makapag invite ng friends ko for a sleepover kasi isa lang kwarto. Pero Thank you pa rin and naafford namin mabili yun. At least may nauuwian kami. Anyway, mabalik tayo... GUSTO KO NG BAHAY SA PAMPANGA. Bahay ha. Yung di sobrang laki. PWD friendly para kay Tita Adelaine. May garahe tapos terrace para makapagsugal dun sila Mommy hahaha. May court din sa may likod para makapaglaro mga pinsan / pamangkin kong boys. Optional na yung pool. May dining area na medyo spacious para makapag sabay sabay kami kumain. Sala. Mga 3-4 na kwarto para pwede sila makitulog. Di ko alam sino makakapagmaintain but let's cross the bridge when we get there. GUSTO KO RIN NG CONDO SA MANILA. Condo lang kasi tulugan ko lang naman yun pag uuwi ako. 2 rooms siguro para if ever mag sleepover friends ko. Pwede rin na dun ko sila papuntahin pag susunduin nila ko. Siguro sa may BGC? Or kahit anong convenient and secured na place. Tapos papa BNB ko pag di ako nagsstay dun. GUSTO KO RIN SYEMPRE NG SARILI KONG BAHAY SA CANADA. Iniisip ko na sa Vancouver titira para pinakamalapit sa Asia tapos di masyado severe yung snow. Ililipat ko sila Mommy and Daddy nearby if gusto nila. TAPOS VACATION HOUSE SA COLORADO. Para pwede akong maging snow bird sa Winter and dun magbakasyon.

Tapos magbibusiness ako para sa steady and passive income. Tapos makakapag aral ako magdrawing, magsulat, at magluto. Makakakuha na rin ako ng bachelor's degree sa wakas!

Tapos di na kailangan ni Daddy magtrabaho araw at gabi para magbayad sa bahay and iba pang gastos.

Tapos makakabili na rin ako ng Business Class na plane tickets. Nakakatawa sigurado kami maging iskwater sa plane. HAHAHA

Tapos my parents can live a slow life. Na walang inaalala financially. Mag aalaga lang ng mga pananim saka ng mga aso at apo.

O diba. Di ko kailangan ng $125M. Tho okay naman kung ibibigay din sakin yun HAHAHAHA

CLAIMING THIS!!!!!!!

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paullender · 7 years

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December 6. That was Mom’s last day at home. I posted a picture of her sitting on these same steps. It felt like an ending. Around her feet were brown, Autumn leaves that winter had yet to clear away or cover with snow.

Now five months later, I sat on the same steps. It was my last time home. The house is sold. It’s empty. I was there to clear out the last of the garbage. Tomorrow new owners move in. They may or may not care that my family grew up there for over 50 years.

So many memories. At least you get to keep those a bit longer than you can often keep the physical things.

Getting up on cold, winter mornings to sit by the living room heating vent in whitey tighties from JCPenney while Mom got my toast and cereal ready to eat. There were the sleepovers in the basement. Forts made of cushions. Learning to ride a bike in the driveway. Video games. Hiding nudie mags that my buddies and I found someplace in the cold air return of my room. Learning to kiss a girl in the basement. Learning to love a girl in the upstairs bedroom. (apologies to both of you if that was awkward) Having pancakes for breakfast in this kitchen the morning before marrying the girl I’d make a new home with.

Kind of odd that stuff that comes top of mind.

#leaving home #alzheimers #dementia #home #childhood #memories #growing up

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peachhplum · 6 years

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The Real Reason I Learned To Appreciate Home

// Sponsored by State Farm (my social media fee was donated to Habitat for Humanity) and all views are, as always, my own.

“As I built my house, I built myself.” – Habitat for Humanity Homeowner

Since I started blogging almost a decade ago, I’ve been asked countless times where my love for design and the home came from. I’ve always answered that it stemmed from discovering an issue of a British design mag, Livingetc, at a petrol (gas!) station while my mum filled up the car with fuel. I was twelve years old, and completely captivated with all things décor and design from that first issue onwards. I remember it like it was yesterday. However, it wasn’t in that moment that I learned to love and appreciate my home. That story starts differently.

It was a cold winter Saturday, early in 1998, in the midst of a British winter. I was eleven years old, Titanic was dominating, well, just about everything, and I had woken up at a friend’s house. I had stayed over the previous night following a visit to the movies to see, you guessed it, Titanic. I remember my friend being upset with his parents because they wouldn’t let us head out to play football (I was secretly relieved because I hated playing football!). Instead, his parents said we had to drive me back home. I didn’t think much of it as I just figured they had things to do as a family that day. Plus, no football so, hey, I wasn’t complaining.After 45 minutes, we pulled up to our family home (pictured above as it is today under new ownership; I don’t have a digital picture of the house because it was the days of disposable cameras) and I immediately spotted my gran’s car parked in the drive. My gran and I have always been very close and so to see that she was unexpectedly visiting filled me with excitement. “Way more fun than football,” I thought to myself as I said my “thank yous” and jumped out the car, rushing as fast as my feet would take me to the front porch. Key in the door. Shoes kicked off by the doormat. Through the hallway, past the flowers on the entry table and into the kitchen…That’s when my excitement was immediately crushed. I saw my mum hunched over the apron sink sobbing.

The previous night while I’d been at the sleepover, her husband of twenty years and my dad of eleven years had decided to leave our family so he could start a new life with his mistress, the woman with whom he’d been having an affair for six months. He hadn’t even had the courage to say goodbye to me; we didn’t see or hear from him again for six months.

It had been a shock to us all, as there were no signs that my parents were unhappy. We were fortunate enough to lead a very privileged life: my mum and dad worked hard to afford to send us to good schools, we enjoyed a week-long family holiday every year in Europe, Christmases were spent as a family by the inglenook fireplace, and summers were spent playing tennis on the lawn. It was as idyllic as it sounds.The house was located in a charming village deep within the English countryside. My bedroom window overlooked rolling fields, mooing cows and there was often the distant, comforting hum of a tractor, dog barking or flock of birds tweeting. Gran would come to stay and we would walk her dog, Bruno, for hours down country lanes and across the fields. Despite being nearly sixty years apart in age, we would laugh and chat for hours on end. When she was staying I would run downstairs to her room every morning and jump under the covers to chat and I would pretend I liked drinking coffee so I would feel more grown up! I look back to those times – the unaltered, naive bliss of childhood – with misty-eyed warmth. I treasure those memories and realize just how lucky I was to live in such a safe and loving environment during those early years of childhood.

But, and with the sincere hope it won’t sound melodramatic, that winter Saturday in 1998 when I arrived home to find our family broken apart, that was day that my childhood ended. It was that day that the calm and comforting place I had known as home changed forever. Lying in bed that night I remember shivering at the unknown that lay ahead.The years that followed were turbulent to say the least. My poor mum was, understandably, wracked with grief and my teenager brother was old enough to escape the house and deal with the emotions in his own way, in his own time. As a pre-teen I was confined to the house. As a result had to grow up super-fast and learn to deal with lots of situations that even now as a thirty-year-old adult, can be hard to think about. It’s not my place to share the full details of what happened over those tumultuous years, and arguably there would be little to be gained from doing so, but suffice to say that home was not the safe sanctuary it had been.

Yet, despite all the challenges and heartache of that time period in my life I still had a physical home to go to. And you know what? I should have been more grateful for that. I should have acted out less; been more grateful for what I did have. I feel as though I took for granted just how fortunate I was to have a physical space to protect me.As the years passed, I grew older, gained independence, (came out, but that’s a whole other blog post!), moved to a new city to attend university and that’s where I met my now husband. Since we graduated we’ve moved a lot (not least to a whole new country!) but I’ve always placed a big emphasis on creating a homely, welcoming and calm space for us both to call home. From the memories of my early childhood years, I knew how great home could feel when it was a happy, loving and safe space. I finally had the opportunity to recreate that feeling of true contentment and security by creating a home with the love of my life.

I now realize that over the twelve years my heartmate and I have lived together, we’ve not just been building a home together but I’ve been building myself, too. The physicality of ‘safeness’ that comes from having four solid walls to call home is so much more than the obvious physical security the home itself affords you. It’s also the emotional bedrock that comes alongside the physical security of your own home brings. The knowledge that you always have somewhere safe to return. It’s a space filled with the fabric of your life: the things and the people you love. There are ups, there are downs, but through it all there’s one constant: the security of your home.I found myself recalling the memories I’ve shared here as I sat at the recent Habitat for Humanity dinner in NYC listening to Clive Rainey, HFH First Volunteer, recall a conversation he had with a Habitat for Humanity homeowner. She was a single mum who was raising her son living in a domestic abuse shelter: her husband had beaten her and said she was useless. She said that the moment she first picked up the hammer on the site of her Habitat for Humanity home she was helping to build, she realized she had the power to change her future, and build a life and safe sanctuary – a home – for her and her son. “As I built my house, I built myself,” she said.

As I heard this story, I reflected on my own experiences and how beyond fortunate I feel to have found the man I adore, to live in the city I love and to have spent the last twelve years creating and building my own safe sanctuary – our home. (I’ve shared pictures from some of those homes throughout this post.) And I thought about how moved I was to do more to help their cause to bring safe and secure homes to people in local communities in New York City. As well as donating my social media fee from State Farm to share my experience of being part of Neighborhood of Good®, I’m going to be volunteering my time to makeover a community center in New York City in time for the holidays.The story of that single mum who, despite all of her horrific experiences, found renewed spirit and opportunity to create a home for her and her son, was thanks to the amazing work of Habitat for Humanity and their volunteers. I sat at the dinner and thought to myself how privileged I have been to re-discover the joy of those early childhood years and build a happy, safe home of my own as an adult. Now, I have the opportunity to play a small part in bringing that priceless feeling of ‘home’ to others in my community. And you can too. Please join me in getting involved and consider signing up to volunteer at your local Habitat for Humanity chapter, or donate to support their amazing work. I’m, looking forward to sharing lots more of my experiences volunteering for Habitat for Humanity in the coming months, too!

// Photography by Will Taylor, bar images 1, 4 & 5 which were taken by Andrew Boyd for Bright.Bazaar

#home decoration #interior design #floor care

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squaremaguk · 6 years

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The Real Reason I Learned To Appreciate Home

// Sponsored by State Farm (my social media fee was donated to Habitat for Humanity) and all views are, as always, my own.

“As I built my house, I built myself.” – Habitat for Humanity Homeowner

// Photography by Will Taylor, bar images 1, 4 & 5 which were taken by Andrew Boyd for Bright.Bazaar

The post The Real Reason I Learned To Appreciate Home appeared first on Bright Bazaar by Will Taylor.

via squaremaguk http://ift.tt/2iLG7Qc

#IFTTT #squaremaguk

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zuchtrealestateteam · 7 years

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Engage your children in imaginative building projects

(NC) During winter breaks, keeping kids entertained indoors is a challenge for most parents and caregivers. When it's too nasty to play outside, why not challenge your children with fun and educational building projects that are guaranteed to develop essential skills?

Mag Ruffman, known as Canada's tool girl, explains that so many kids today - and even their parents - have never had the opportunity to work with tools. "It's why we have a growing shortage of skilled tradespeople in this country," she continued. "Introducing kids to building projects is an amazing bonding experience for both the adult and the child. It's fun, it instills confidence and new skills, and it helps develop cognitive ability, spatial perception, critical thinking skills, and coordination. Plus you have a really cool handmade project when you're done."

In partnership with Lowe's Canada, Ruffman has produced a series of videos featuring simple, fun projects that parents can do with their kids at home. She feels strongly that if kids can get their hands on tools and materials in the first five or six years of life, it can help their brains develop neural pathways that improve their intelligence and abilities for the rest of their lives.

"It's never too late, however," Ruffman adds. "This fall we're shooting a new Lowe's series with tweens and it's amazing how quickly and easily they learn to use power tools. They're designing and building awesome projects like headboards, beds that rise and descend on pulleys, gaming terrains, and sleepover forts on wheels."

With the growing trend of online resources and social media sites that feature inspiring projects and crafts, parents don't have to be DIY experts in order to take part in (and feel proud of) a fun project that they can make with their children.

Some of the many projects (all come with free, detailed plans) in Ruffman's online series include:

• How to make a regulation junior-size hockey net using simple tools and PVC piping

• How to build a classic puppet theatre, complete with marquee and lighting

• How to make easy, customized bedroom door signs

• How to create a beautiful indoor/outdoor castle with a few simple materials

A variety of projects for kids aged 5-12, can be found in the retailer's dedicated video series at www.lowes.ca/kidsvideos.

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cherylrolfe · 7 years

Text

Engage your children in imaginative building projects

Some of the many projects (all come with free, detailed plans) in Ruffman's online series include:

• How to make a regulation junior-size hockey net using simple tools and PVC piping

• How to build a classic puppet theatre, complete with marquee and lighting

• How to make easy, customized bedroom door signs

• How to create a beautiful indoor/outdoor castle with a few simple materials

A variety of projects for kids aged 5-12, can be found in the retailer's dedicated video series at www.lowes.ca/kidsvideos.

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galaxysgal · 5 months

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rosy cheeks for carmy~ reader and carmy are spending their first christmas holidays together and they are v much in love but not super out there about it’s just lovey dovey and a lot of kissing and love love love ❤️

rosy cheeks || carmen berzatto

pairing: carmy x fem!reader

warnings: fluff fluff and more fluff!

a/n: im sooooo happy with this :') short n sweet

the lock on the front door clicks and the door swings open. your boyfriends arms are full of paper grocery bags, his cheeks pink from the cold. there's a dusting of white in his hair too, and only then do you realize it's started to snow.

"hey baby," he says with a soft smile as you come to his side to take the bags. and of course, your sweet carmen won't let you lift a finger. "hey, 's okay i got it." he kisses your forehead and takes the bags to your small kitchen.

you trail after him, your christmas slippers squeaking softly against the tile. you grab the matching pair you had ordered for him and hide the bag behind your back. "i've been decorating, and wrapping your gifts," you tell him with a cheeky grin.

"yeah? wha' kinda presents, hm?" he asks, placing milk and eggs in the fridge. "get me anything exciting?"

you giggle softly, stepping up behind him and resting your head on his shoulder as he begins to wash the fruits. "you know i can't tell you that!"

carmy turns, wet hands going to circle around your waist before you step back. he eyes you, seeing your hands tucked politely behind your back, and his face breaks into a devilish grin. "whatcha got there?"

"an early present..."

"an early present! how'd i get so lucky, huh sweet girl?" he steps closer, lands a peck on your lips, and holds his hands out for the gift.

you chase his lips, giving him a few more sweet kisses because he deserves them. he deserves everything. you do your best to give him the world.

you slip the shoes out of the bag before placing them in carmy's open hands. "merry christmas baby."

he examines the slippers, eyes sparkling. "aw, thank ya baby," he toes off his sneakers, peeling off his socks and tossing them in the direction of the laundry room. he tosses the slippers onto the ground and slips his feet in, leaning in to kiss you once more on the lips.

you pull your phone out and open the camera, holding it up high to show you, carmy, and your matching slippers. he kisses your cheek for the photo, and you grin widely.

carmy smiles, looking down at the picture. "send that to me, will ya? 'm gonna start dinner. chicken parm, just somethin' simple."

you send it to him and get back to decorating the apartment. carmy chimes in with sweet compliments while he cooks, "you're so good at this," and "you've really got an eye f'decorating," and "baby, y'really make this feel like home."

end.

my masterlist. my winter sleepover.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #mags writes #anon <3 #mags’ winter sleepover: fics #mags’ winter sleepover

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