#Bedroom Sets Ontario

[hometoursandotherstuff]

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

I love the baby blue double doors and wreaths.

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

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

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

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

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

Look at the large pantry.

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

Windows let in lots of natural light.

Very nice laundry room.

Lovely vintage half bath.

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

Looking down at the entrance hall.

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

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

This secondary bedroom has lovely vintage furniture.

The 2 smaller bedrooms are pretty also.

The bright, finished basement has wonderful original stone walls.

And, there's also a spacious shower room.

Pretty door on the side porch.

Large patio with a firepit and pergola.

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

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

[cellythefloshie]

;; Daddy Dunn

Summary: You, Dunn's fiance, travel with Vince to Lindsay, Ontario to celebrate the St Louis' 2019 Stanley Cup victory. It is in his hometown, after seeing Dunn's sweet interaction with children that - after years of thinking you would never have kids - you decide you want to have a baby. After telling Dunn, he assures that the two of you take a night to sleep on it, but not without a little practice.

Set in the summer of 2019.

Kinks & TW: Breeding/Desire to Become Pregnant, Oral Contraceptives, Unprotected Sex, Vince likes to Moan, Have to Stay Quiet, Hand Around Throat - Not Quite Choking, Hand Over Mouth, Woman on Top, Sundress Sex.

Notes: Apparently Vince had 4-5 surgeries during this off-season after sustaining a broken jaw in the series against SJS. This is touched on very briefly but nothing in detail.

Inspired By: This video and this anon.

Word Count: 2448

Taglist: @mp0625 @starshine-hockey-girl

For as long as you could remember you hadn’t wanted kids. Whether it be the responsibility that came with having a child or the pregnancy itself that scared you away from the idea of being a mother, it was something you have been comfortable with accepting. You would be the cool, wealthy, aunt that spoiled your nieces and nephews but that all changed in a single moment and it was all thanks to Vince. 

It was summertime, which often meant a relaxing postseason, but this off-season was different since St Louis had won the cup. Since Sanford scored the 4th goal in game seven, your life had been a whirlwind of festivities but it was all meant to wind down after Vince’s day with the cup. You had travelled with him all the way to Lindsay, Ontario, his hometown, and quickly faded into the background of the festivities. You followed him in his parade in the quaint community. 

With the population less than a tenth of St Louis, it almost left you feeling lost, but the crowds that flocked to Lindsay were far from underwhelming. Blues fans travelled from all across the Province - and even the country - for their opportunity to see Vince and Cup. You watched them all, the young and the old flock to him. Their hockey hero, the pride and joy of an entire community, had brought Lord Stanley home to them. 

He was met with smiles, with fondness, and some were even brought to tears. They had known him since he was a boy, and now he was a man. A humble man who had not forgotten his roots, and who spent his time with every single one of them who had come to celebrate his success with him. 

While it all had warmed your heart, there was one moment that left your heart fluttering and seemed to alter your brain chemistry in all of a single second. A woman that you hadn’t had the opportunity to meet yourself since you were watching the day unfold from the sidelines had brought her 8-month-old to meet with Vince and the cup. And while you would have admitted that the baby was cute, you didn’t fully appreciate the sight in front of you until Vince had taken the baby in his arms. He was kind, and sweet with zero hesitation or fear when it came to cradling such a young, sweet child. It was that moment that changed it all. 

Seeing him with the child in his arms. Hearing the soft voice he used and the ease at which he handled the child as they grew finicky as they sat in the Stanley Cup had ignited something deep inside you. You wanted a baby. 

It was something that weighed heavily over you the rest of the day. It left you fidgeting at the dinner table, your fingers twisting the delicate engagement ring on your finger. Vince had only proposed over the holiday season and you weren’t set to wed until the next summer, which should have been enough to have you biting your tongue - but the moment you had him alone in his childhood bedroom that had been given a bit of a facelift to be more suited for guests, you couldn’t hold yourself back from him. 

The moment the bedroom door had been shut behind you, your hands had found Vince’s chest. He was still wearing the same polo shirt, black with a thin white detail along his collar and sleeves, and you wanted it off of him. Fingers dragged down the buttons of his polo drawing his gaze down, and soon you were subject to a slack-jawed breath and his bedroom eyes. Your name left his lips in a slow hum. A hum that was laced with the little restraint he could muster. Before your trip, the two of you had agreed to not have sex if there was a chance his parents could overhear. Yet, you were undressing him with the very risk of his parents hearing everything from the next room. 

“I’ll be quiet, promise,” you whispered up at him, your lips curling into a faint smile that coaxed one up onto his own lips. 

“But I don’t have anything-”

You almost laughed as you pulled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it aside. You watched as your gleeful expression perplexed him. You had always insisted on using a condom, until now. “I don’t want to use one,” you told him in a soft whisper, your hands finding your bare chest to push him back towards the bed. 

Once you had him seated, the skirts of your sundress pulled up just enough for you to straddle his lap, you spoke again, “and, with your permission, I want to stop taking the pill.”

His face softened at your words, his full lips parting with a heavy breath. His hands quickly settled on your hips, caressing over your soft silhouette slowly as he spoke your name, “Are you sure? I mean, I’m not saying no - I just - you’ve - this is a big surprise.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, your hands coming to rest on the strength of his shoulders, “but seeing you with all the kids today,” you looked away as you felt your heart begin to race in your chest, “and seeing how you were with the baby…”

Vince wore a cocky smile as he lay back against the bed, his arms reaching up to stretch out and flex the toned muscles of his body before they came to rest behind his head. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” he raised a brow, his words coy before he let his tongue run over his bottom lip slowly, “Daddy Dunn,” he said the words as if to taste how they would feel in his mouth, and they left him grinning ever wider when he saw the reaction it got out of you. 

Your skin had flushed with color, your jaw slacking for a moment before you found your composure and gave him a playful shove. “Stunner, don’t,” You had tried to be firm, but your words were laced with a nervous laugh, “don’t tease me like that and make me regret telling you.”

“Hey, hey,” Vince hummed and reached out a single hand to stroke over your cheek slowly. He used the touch to draw you in. He greeted your lips with a soft and gentle kiss before he eased back just enough to mutter out to you; “no teasing,” his hand reached up to brush your hair back gently, “but I do want you to sleep on it. You took your pill this morning, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out gently before biting down on your lower lip. 

“Good girl,” he hummed, his head shaking slightly as his thumb dragged down over your jaw to coax your lip from the bite of your teeth. He stroked it carefully with the pad of his thumb when he spoke again, “In the morning, if you feel the same way we’ll throw them away, but until then I don’t see there being anything wrong with a little practice.” 

Your head cocked to the side, your lips speaking into the touch of his thumb, “Practice?”

Vince let out a hum of confirmation as he leaned in, cast his thumb aside and placed a lingering kiss against your lips. It was slow and careful, a little cautious even as both were mindful of the tenderness that still lingered after his jaw had been broken during the playoff run. If anything, it forced the two of you to slow things down. Desperate hungry fucks, became tender, deliberate touches - and that didn’t change with the proposition of starting a family. 

His touch was gentle as a single hand brushed down the length of your body. It caressed over every curve as it sought out the bottom hem of your sundress. He pushed up the skirt of your dress slowly, his hand coasting over the flesh of your thigh as he let out a groan, “I’ve been wanting to fuck you in this dress all day.” 

“Oh, have you?” you raised a brow at him, your breath heavy as you pressed back into his touch. 

“All fucking day,” he reiterated with a groan as his hand found the waist of your panties and hooked onto them with a single finger before drawing them down the length of your legs. With every inch it travelled, you could feel your own arousal as it became a cool trail down the inside of your leg. When he pulled the panties from your legs, Vince balled them up in his hand, feeling the arousal that had pooled there, “you thinking about me too, Princess?”

You nodded slowly, your hands dragging down the length of his chest only to come to rest at the waist of his dark denim jeans. Fingers toyed with the thin hair of his treasure trail as you smiled down at Vince, who smiled in return, as he waited for you to indulge him in the fantasies in your mind. 

“Thinking about you,” you spoke slowly, your hands pulling the button free before toying with the zipper of his fly, “your cock…” you trailed off slowly, hesitant on letting the next words fall from your lips, “and your cum.”

His eyes ignited as he lifted his hips for you to rid him of his pants and his boxers with ease before returning to your lace in his lap. “Tell me about it, Princess.”

You spoke slowly as you took his cock in your hand. You stroked him slowly as you spoke, your words soft and just above a whisper, “I was thinking about your cock,” you licked your lips slowly as he twitched his cock in the hold of your hands, “and how it would spread my desperate cunt, and fuck me. You always fuck me so good baby, but to feel you, to really feel you,” you let out an exasperated breath, “and how you would fill me up. Leave me dripping-”

“You want a baby, Princess. All you’ll be feeling inside you until your round with my baby is my cum,” Vince grinned up at you, his cock hard in your hand, “and we can start right now. You nice and wet for me, Princess?”

And you were. You had been all day. 

Lifting up the skirt of your dress, you guided him to your slick core. You dragged the head of his cock along your entrance, your stomach jumping up into your throat as you felt him. You could feel every bit of him. From the head of his cock leading away to the thick vein along the underside of his cock. You quivered at the feeling, and at the realization that you were working him so deep inside you with nothing but the oral contraceptive you had taken that morning to keep him from getting you pregnant. 

You weren’t the only one who relished in it as you began to ride him, the pleasure coaxing a satisfied hum from his lips, “Ah fuck.” 

There was nothing more you liked than Vince getting vocal with you, but with his parents sleeping down the hall, it was the last thing you needed them overhearing. 

“Vinny,” you sighed to him in a low whisper as your cunt flexed around his cock, “you’ve gotta be quiet-” Your cautions were lost on him as his head lulled back into the bed with his lips parted. He was on the verge of ecstasy, and there would be no holding him back from letting the entire household know how good you rode his cock - that was unless you intervened. 

Your hands left the strength of his chest and slid up over his shoulders until one hand settled carefully around his throat. You gasped at it, anchoring yourself to him before your left hand came to rest over his mouth so that he could feel the warmth of your engagement ring against his flesh and every single attempt at a moan would be muffled by your palm. 

It was enough to silence him, but his pleasure wasn’t lost on you. You could feel it in the throbbing of his cock inside your walls, and it could be seen in the emotion in his eyes. They had always betrayed him, even now as they threatened to roll back in ecstasy but instead, he held your gaze as you continued to ride him. With each role of your hips, you took him into your cunt, feeling all of him from the tip of his cock buried deep inside you to his balls as they smacked up against your flesh and you didn’t stop - not until Vince had let his hands slide free from where they rest behind his head to grip at your hips. With his heels pressed down firmly into the mattress and your hand still firm over his mouth Vince plowed into you in a series of forceful thrusts that left your cunt and legs weak. 

Then, on the final thrust, you felt him. All of him. Every inch of his cock, and every drop of his cum as it consumed your core. It heated the blossomed through you, rendering your body still with the very exception of your walls that vice gripped him with your own pleasure. Your hands eased from his mouth and his neck, easing down onto a mattress as your lips parted in a ghost of a moan. 

“You like that, Princess?” Vince whispered against the shell of your ear as your body collapsed down on top of the strength of his body. You could only manage a feeble nod in return, “Good, you’ll be feeling me well into the morning after that one.”

The thought painted a soft smile across your features, one that was met with the exhaustion of the day and the fall of your pleasure. It left your eyes heavy, and your body calm as Vince eased out of you and moved your carefully to rest against the pillows. It was there, still in your sundress and with his cum coating the inside of your thighs, that sleep took you quickly, quicker than it had ever before. 

Come morning you moved straight for your bag and took your pills into your hand. You held them in against your palm for a moment, hearing their soft rattle in the packaging before you gripped them firmly in your hand. Taking a steady, confident breath, you walked across the room and straight to the trash bin. You showed no hesitation as you opened your hand and let them fall. 

[jflemingology]

Night Terrors | Jessie Fleming x Reader

In which: you have a nightmare and Jessie cares for you

Warnings: mentions of separation anxiety but nothing too detailed

WC: 1.7K

A/N: Wanted to get this draft out before I worked on some of the requests I received (thank you btw!). Hope you enjoy this one!

Divider: @cafekitsune

Jessie had grown familiar with your dreaming. In the middle of the night, was often she found herself met with cold sheets when she went to wrap her arm around you.

In the early days of your relationship, the Canadian would find herself quite anxious about your nightmares. She would go after you when she noticed you’d slipped out of bed, ready to care for you. But when she pushed too far one time, ushering you to speak to her about it, it ended up in an argument and from then on she knew better than to pry.

This night, it started no different than usual. Jessie woke up as a light breeze crawled over her skin, silently cursing to herself for not having closed the window before you two fell asleep last night.

She opened her eyes to a pitch black room, realizing that it was probably hours before she would usually get up. She felt around her nightstand for her phone until her screen lit up and winced. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the bright light coming from the device, the clock reading 3:05.

Jessie sighed and rubbed her hands down her face, turning her phone back off. She turned around expecting to be met with your warm body which she could snuggle into, but instead there was only cold sheets and the smell of your shampoo lingering on your pillow.

She flopped back onto her back and sighed, realizing this was the 3rd time this week that you had gotten up in the middle of the night.

It had been a really tough week at work. You worked overtime every evening but still it didn't feel like the workload lessened at all. Every morning you would log into your account met with another abundance of e-mails and countless new invoices that you had to deal with.

You knew from experience that weeks like that usually had a big impact on your sleep at night. It kept you up nonetheless, but it also influenced the frequency of your dreams – especially the ones that would have you out of bed by 3am, lingering around the living room trying to find the peace that would allow you to climb back into bed and cuddle up to your Canadian.

So when Saturday morning came around, you would've loved nothing more than to be cradled into Jessie's loving arms. But instead you found yourself once again wide awake, trying to kill some time by reading a bit of the book your girlfriend had recommended you a few weeks ago.

Jessie had tried going back to sleep, but after countless tossing and turning her body had clearly made the decision for her. "Screw it," she mumbled under her breath. She threw the covers off her body and shivered again when another breeze snuck its way into your shared bedroom. She threw on an old Canada hoodie over her naked upper body and slowly made her way downstairs, not wanting to scare you.

Nonetheless, your attention was pulled by a pair of feet softly thudding down the stairs. You noticed how she engulfed herself in a hoodie and was wearing a pair of your fuzzy sweatpants, clearly feeling the cold of the chilly winter night.

Jessie loved Winter, growing up in Canada it was the season she thrived most in, but she despised the cold nights. Portland wasn't anywhere near as cold as Ontario – where she grew up –, but the cool air could still be relentless.

You set down the book you were reading in your lap and offered her a slight smile, letting her know that she was okay to join you. She shuffled her way over to the couch and plopped down next to you, immediately nuzzling her face in your neck and wrapping her arm protectively around your midsection.

"You okay?", she mumbled against your football shirt-covered skin. You put your book away before you hummed, carding your fingers through her hair as you felt her relax against your body. "I'm okay, dreams have just been keeping me up again. The intense week at work hasn't helped it", you spoke softly, trying your best not to disturb the brunette's peace.

Jessie started tracing patterns on the exposed skin on your stomach where your shirt had ridden up, before placing a tender kiss against it. She shifted against you so she was now facing you, placing her hand against your cheek as you leaned into her warm touch. "You wanna talk about it or you wanna go back to bed?"

You could tell she was nervous by the way her eyes were shooting all over your face. It happened many times that this conversation led to an argument before, both of you disagreeing with each other as to what you needed most. You insisted that you just needed space and a bit of time to get settled again before you would get back into bed with her, Jessie assumed that you would be better off in bed with her anyway.

You contemplated pushing it away, but you knew Jessie only wanted to help – and it was only right that she knew what was going on in your mind. If anything, she was the only one that would be able to help you, let alone you would allow to help you.

"I've just been having some separation anxiety lately, and it's reflecting in my dreams. I know we've been spending little time together, and I know it's my fault. Work has been overwhelming and it's been consuming me," you took a deep breath before you continued.

"But this week the nightmares have been mainly just... you leaving me. Leaving because we don't spend enough time together, because I'm too caught up with work, because sometimes I can't give you what you deserve."

You tried to look away from your girlfriend, trying to hide your teary eyes from her gaze. She didn't allow you though, grabbing your chin between her thumb and index finger and softly turning your face back to hers. She wiped away a stray tear that had made its way across your cheek and pressed a couple kisses on the wet trail it left behind.

A small smile crept across her face before she spoke up. "Firstly, thank you for telling me. I know this is a sensitive topic for you, let alone when it's about something like this. Thank you."

She pressed a soft kiss against your lips to accentuate her words, leaving you the space if you wanted to say anything. You didn't, so she spoke up again. "I get where this is coming from, baby. You had a busy week and we've barely spent time together. But this stuff happens. You work and I work. We're both on busy day-to-day schedules, let alone when the company you work at is going through a busy period." She kissed away another tear that had managed to escape your eye.

She grabbed one of your hands, that was still scratching her scalp, and pressed a soft kiss against it. "This right here," she pointed between you and her. "I'm in this for the long run, love. I'm not gonna leave you because you can't give me all your attention for a couple of weeks. If this was an issue for our relationship, we wouldn't have made it past a month. I'm away all the time, but I don't question your love for me and I'm sure your love for me doesn't waver either. Patches like this will keep happening. You will have plenty of weeks where you have to prioritize work over me, I will have countless camps and tournaments where I need to prioritize football over you. But that doesn't mean that I think we shouldn't be doing this. I'm head over heels for you and I can't imagine myself with anyone else. I love you."

You chuckled and looked up at the ceiling while you let your tears flow. "I don't know how I ever got this lucky, Fleming," you said with a strained voice.

You noticed a faint blush forming on Jessie's cheeks, the red tint visible as it was accentuated by your reading lamp that was still on by the side of the couch.

"And for the record, I love you too. Loads. And I can't imagine being with anyone else, either. I guess I was just too caught up with other things to be thinking straight. I know you wouldn't leave me over this."

You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned down to her, connecting your lips in a tender kiss. Jessie pushed herself up and put her weight on her forearm, leaning into the kiss. You whimpered as she pushed her tongue past your lips and deepened the kiss, allowing her to take dominance. You felt your girlfriend shift against you, but before she could pin you down on the couch you pushed against her chest and broke the kiss.

You leaned your forehead against hers and spoke up. "It's 4am, let's not get carried away," you mumbled under your breath. Jessie sighed in mock annoyance before she grinned widely at you, nodding in understanding.

She stood up and stretched out her hands towards you, pulling you up with her before leading you both back to the bedroom. She took her hoodie back off and contrary to last night, she did remember to close the window now.

Jessie made sure all the lights were turned off before she got in bed with you. You snuggled up to her side the second she was under the covers, causing her to let out a soft chuckle.

"I love you, Jess. Thank you for this. I know I don't always make it easy for you to know what you have to do, but you were perfect tonight."

Jessie pressed a sweet kiss against your forehead. "Anything for you, baby. And if that involves braving the freezing cold at 3am to save you from the mental monsters, then I will do so," she replied with a toothy grin.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, pressing a final kiss against her lips before settling your head down on her chest, ready for a few more hours of sleep.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

[conradscrime]

The Murder of Leah Salina Sousa

July 02, 2024

Leah Salina Sousa was born on June 7, 1977 in Oakville, Ontario, Canada.

On September 1, 1990, Labour Day weekend, 13 year old Leah was sleeping on the couch in her cottage on Beachview Avenue in Cumberland Beach. Leah's mother, Lora, was sleeping in her bedroom, and her 9 month old brother, Michael, was sleeping in his crib.

At some point after midnight, an intruder broke the glass on the back door of the home. Lora was then beaten to unconsciousness. Leah's brother, was left unharmed in his crib.

Leah was sexually assaulted and taken into the backyard where she was violently murdered. The weapon used to murder Leah is believed to be a metallic object, potentially a pipe or tire iron.

It is considered by police as one of the most brutal murders in Ontario history.

Police believe it is likely that Leah's mother Lora actually saw her daughter's killer, but had been beaten so badly that she has lost a lot of her memory of the night.

Lora has been trying for years to recover her memory in order to help catch her daughter's killer. Lora has done hypnosis, been injected with "truth serum," and even visited a lab run by Michael Persinger, an expert on the human brain.

Lora completed a process using magnetic fields that specifically target the right hemisphere of the brain, to try to encourage residual neurons. This was unsuccessful.

The crime scene was extremely bloody, but investigators were unable to recover DNA from the killer. The weapon or bloody clothing worn by the killer has never been found. Police found a shoe print from a Nike leather court or tennis shoe, either a size 9 or 10.

It is believed that Leah was targeted due to the fact her mother was a single mother with an infant and 13 year old daughter. Police believe the killer was familiar with Cumberland Beach, either living there or being there frequently.

It is also believed that the killer knew the family was alone, and that someone around the community that still lives there has information.

There are regular meetings to discuss this case. There is a $50,000 reward for any information in the murder of Leah Sousa.

Please contact the OPP at 1-888-310-1122 or Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-8477 (TIPS) if you have any information. 

Investigators have also set up a special tip hotline: (705) 329-7558.

Any information could help or lead to the solving of Leah's murder. It will be 34 years since someone got away with the murder of a little girl.

[camels-pen]

oh to dream a dream

summary: Careless words can lead to indulgent sleep.

based on @seaglass-skies' prompt "Jazz has never had a sibling. So who is this other teenager in the old photo album she found? And why is the bedroom across from hers so empty?"

Ao3 Link | Phight ‘24 series

The atmosphere was quiet, homey. Chirping birds could be heard through the cracked window off to the side and there was a low level chatter throughout the whole place.

Jazz took a deep breath in, smelling the scent of dark roast and vanilla bean that had permeated itself into the walls and floor, that drifted up to greet her like a tired lover.

Usually, she'd chide herself on such cheesy thoughts—maybe make a mental note to stop reading so many romance novels and crack open more psych textbooks—but she was feeling good today. Good and content.

So much so, in fact, that she didn't even feel the sting of embarrassment as someone nudged past her where she was standing, blocking the open door to the coffee shop.

She gave a short apology, tapped each pocket on her shoulder bag just in case, and then walked to the front register.

“Jazzy-babe!” Edward said, grinning wide at her. “Girl, I haven't seen you in ages!”

Jazz smiled back, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Ugh, I know right? Sorry—” She paused to wipe her face, sniffling a little. “I've really missed this place.”

“Oh honey.” Ed came around the counter to scoop her into a hug. He patted her back as he said, “There's no need to cry, you're here now, aren't you?”

Jazz laughed. She must really be a mess for Ed to come all the way around for a hug rather than just lean over the counter. “Yeah—yeah I'm here now. These are more happy tears than anything else, to be honest.”

Ed gave her a few more pats before returning to the register. “Good. Happy tears are the best kind of tears. We don't need anything else.” Actually, tears of sadness and frustration were also rather important to keeping a healthy emotional balance, but Jazz understood and appreciated the sentiment. “What can I get for you, hon?”

“Just a latte, I've got to—” Jazz paused. “Oh, sorry, I just started talking on autopilot. I don't have any chores or homework today, so I'm staying for the long haul.”

“From open to close!” Ed laughed. “Just like when you first started coming here.”

Jazz smiled. ”Yup, back to my old ways.“

”So we're going with a large latte and three chocolate and almond croissants?“

”Make it four, please.“

The shop was rather slow—an odd sight for a coffee shop at 9 in the morning—so while Ed and his new coworker worked, Jazz propped herself against the counter and chatted with him. Turned out he'd gotten himself a new boyfriend—long distance this time, all the way up north in Ontario, Canada in some place called 'Barrie'—and he's planning to renew his passport and go visit him some time this summer.

Jazz shared her own news—the hazards of 12th grade English classes with a substitute teacher for half the semester, all of her friends managing to catch the flu at the same time a few months ago, and her overbearing parents insisting she apply for some fake program called 'ecto-biology' at the University of Madison Wisconsin.

Ed laughed along and, traitor that he was, said she should give it a shot anyway and that it might be fun. Jazz wasn't so sure.

Soon, her drink and pastries were done and she said her goodbyes before ensconcing herself to the little corner in the back of the shop, far from the door and mostly covered by a massive bird of paradise plant.

She set down her things, took out a hefty book titled 'Psychology and You: A Look into the Self' and cracked open the front cover.

—

“...azz!“

“...ease, don't wan... urt y...!”

“...rry!”

—

Jazz felt a tap at her shoulder and she blinked. She groaned and rubbed at her eyes. “Geez, I haven’t done that since middle school.” And damn, that was satisfying.

Ed chuckled as she stretched out her arms. “Sounds like you needed it.”

Jazz packed up her stuff and gave Ed a goodbye hug before heading out. If there's one thing Jazz Fenton knew, it was when she'd overstayed her welcome.

She blinked, then furrowed her brows. Where did that come from? It was closing time so she needed to leave, it wasn't like she'd stayed too long at a friend's house.

“Maybe I conflated it with the feeling of being in someone else's home?” she mumbled to herself. “The place does feel like it's Ed's pride and joy even though he's not the owner.”

The owner himself was a crabby man who had hated Jazz since the first moment he spotted her walking in, all of 12 years old and looking for a safe and quiet place to do her math homework. She didn't have any money then, thinking the shop was similar enough to a library what with all the people she saw reading quietly through the windows. The man was ready to kick her out, citing that only paying customers were allowed to sit in his shop and that all children were rabble and ruffians regardless of age.

It was Edward then, all of 16 and newly hired, who had bought her a hot cocoa and claimed her dad had already bought a drink for her earlier in the day and Ed had been waiting for her. Ed was chewed out for it since apparently that wasn't a thing they allowed at the shop, but Jazz was allowed to stay. She learned for future visits to bring along her allowance and when the owner wasn't here, Ed would let her sit in the shop without buying anything.

Now if only a certain someone else would be so kind—

Jazz stumbled. “Dumb rock,” she grumbled, shaking out her foot. “What was I thinking about again?”

—

“You’re always in my business! It’s annoying!”

“I’m in your business because I care about you!”

“You sound like mom and dad! And didn’t you always say privacy was important to growing kids?!”

“It is! It is, but this is different; Danny, I’m afraid you’re doing something dangerous. Something that could get you hurt. If there’s some big bad ghost villain you should come to me—”

“Of course.” He scoffed. “You can’t fucking trust me to take care of myself, as per usual. I’m just your idiot little brother who would die a horrible death the moment you take your eyes off me, aren’t I?”

She gasped, putting a hand to her mouth.

“W-Wait, I didn’t mean it like that—”

—

“Oh Jazzypants!” Dad called. “You think you could come down and help your old man with something?”

“Sorry Dad! I’m doing something important!” Jazz called back, laid on her stomach on her bed, a chewed up pencil in hand as she hovered over a ‘Who will be your boyfriend? (NSYNC edition)’ quiz. “I’m doing this for Kendra, but man I hope I get Justin.” 

She continued to circle the letters on the quiz and eventually finished and flipped to the back of the magazine. “Ugh, Lance? Maybe I should just burn this.” As she shifted her hand, she noticed neat cursive handwriting under the answer key that read: ‘Jazz, I don’t care if you got Lance, DO NOT BURN THIS.’

She was tempted to burn it anyway.

A gust of wind blew through her room, ruffling the pages of the magazine and throwing her hair all around. Jazz had to slap a hand on the book to keep it from flying away. The wind died down after a moment and she huffed, a bit of hair fluttering up with the action before falling back down. “Perfect, amazing, exactly what I needed.”

Jazz pushed herself up and slammed the window down. Her dad yelled if she was alright, but she didn’t answer. Flopping herself down on her bed, she flipped back to the quiz and erased her answers. “I’m gonna get Justin this time,” she grumbled, starting the quiz over.

Just as she had gotten to the second question, another gust of wind blew through her room. This time the magazine wasn’t safe and tumbled to the carpet. She pushed her hair back from her face and left her room to investigate. 

Mom and Dad’s room was fine. The bathroom too. The storage closet didn’t have a window and the hallway one has been busted shut for years. 

Jazz stood in front of the door across from her room. She slowly put a hand on the doorknob. Twisted it. Then pushed.

Peeking into the room, she looked around. It was empty and collecting dust, just as it always was. She always felt uneasy just looking into the room so hopefully the window was—

Ah, it was open. Of course.

Jazz gulped. She willed herself forward. Fear was just fear and there was nothing of any real harm in the room. She repeated that to herself over and over as she tiptoed inside, heading for the window.

There were no furniture, no decorations, no new paint on the walls. It was just a plain blue—

Jazz shook her head and rubbed her eyes. Beige, the original house’s wall colours were beige with a white trim.

She continued her journey and eventually made it, sliding the window closed as gently as she could, lest she disturb the stifling atmosphere she found herself in.

Jazz was about ready to tiptoe her way out—or maybe just run for it to make it quicker—when her eyes caught on a photo album on the floor. It was 4th of July themed and was laid spine up, as if it had falled off of something and landed on its pages. 

And, well, Jazz was never one to leave a book like that, no matter the circumstances.

With hesitant hands, she picked up the book, her thumb automatically marking the open pages. She marvelled at the peeling silver stars on the front and back cover and the almost sparkling blue colour. 4th of July themed seemed like a stretch, now that she had a closer look; it had more of a space theme or a starry night sky, than anything else.

She flipped over the book, only to find it was a photo album. The papers where starting to become yellow with age and the photos curling at the corners, as if ready to fall off at any moment. It looked so old and well loved, yet Jazz had never recalled seeing such an album around the house before.

The photos all included pictures of herself when she was far younger, her mom and dad, and some of Jazz’s friends from elementary school. Sometimes it was just one of them, sometimes all of them, and sometimes even none of them.

But with each picture there was one consistent theme: some part of the picture was complete static. Like someone had taken a TV without signal and used that to colour in nonsensical shapes and silhouettes in each and every picture.

It was strange. Odd, even. Jazz wasn’t one to vandalize anything as important as a photo album, even as a child. Her parents were always quite adamant that she’d been a rather mature child since she was small. And she doubted her mom or dad would’ve done that. 

Maybe one of her friends from the photos? Jazz could’ve invited them over one time and they could’ve scribbled all over the photos when she wasn’t looking. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She squinted at the pages. No, that didn’t seem quite right. The static colouring stopped right at the edge of each polaroid, not a single bit of it leaking into the white border edges of them. She doubted elementary schoolers would care so much about that, or be that precise. 

Page after page she found different pictures, with her and her parents at different ages and different clothes, with new friends and old. And yet that same static colouring persisted. In fact, it seemed to be growing over time, getting consistently bigger and bigger, at times looking like the outline of a person just a handful of inches shorter than herself. She started to get irritated as the static got closer to her height, but by the time she got to the end of the album—with whiter pages and more firmly glued pictures—it never overtook her. She felt satisfied about that fact, for some reason.

Back to the original problem, she still didn’t know what the purpose was of this odd destruction of her family’s photo album. She didn’t even know where this album had come from, the pictures in it unfamiliar and foreign.

She squinted at the last picture in the album, using her nail to scratch at the static colour. Not that she was expecting anything from it—

The static started to flake off.

“What is this, crayon?” she mumbled. Though it felt simultaneously thicker and thinner than crayon wax. Smoother, yet rougher. It was easy to pick at it, but hard to peel off anything larger than a toothpick, the colours coming off in long thin stripes as they did. 

She scratched and scratched and scratched at it. Jazz had just about had enough when no more pieces came off, but then—

The entire thing peeled off like an old sticker.

Staring back at her was a boy with messy black hair, annoyed blue eyes, and a contrasting grin with Jazz’s own arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“An… old friend, maybe? But this picture was taken recently and—” She paused to pick at another photo higher up the page. It revealed another picture of the same  boy, mouth open like he was talking animatedly about something while staring into a small telescope. Another picture, a few pages earlier, showed the whole family in their hazmat suits, and the boy himself standing with them in his own white and black suit.

“I’ve never had any siblings,” she whispered to herself. It didn’t feel right, almost like someone else coaxed the words through her mouth.

She stared around at the empty room. Thought of how it really should be blue, since that’s the colour it’s always been. The house was originally beige, but this room was always always blue. A specific shade of lighter blue, with glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and burn marks on the carpet. A scuffed up desk plastered with enough free Nasa stickers you could hand them out at a convention. Not to mention a bed that had never been made since it was bought.

She thought of that room. And she thought of this one, the real one all around her. The one full of life and the one that had never seen it. There was only so much she could do to try and remember it. Imagine it? Think of it, and yet it stuck out so clearly in her mind. 

She could hear the high pitched whiny voice calling her a nag. Could smell the dirty laundry ‘hidden’ under the desk. Could feel the ratty old cotton Star Wars blanket between her fingers. But none of it was here. 

Something ached fiercely in her chest. 

She gripped her shirt tight over her heart, tears welling up in her eyes.

She’d forgotten him. She looked out for him—cared for him—for so so long, but she’d forgotten him. Like some trashy teen magazine article. 

And—and she needed to find him. He was always being reckless out with his friends hunting—hunting ghosts of all things (oh god, ghosts exist and she forgot and he had been fighting them without her help—). 

She went for the door, yanking it open and trying not to hyperventilate. 

Jazz needed to find him, she needed to help him, she needed to—

Jazz blinked. She stared at the open door to her own room with a frown. “Why did I leave my room?” 

She jumped as she heard something swing shut behind her. When she turned she noticed the door to the empty room, shut and covered with cobwebs. She shuddered and inched away from it.

“Jazz, sweetie, would you mind closing the window?” Mom called. 

The window?

A gust of air blew against her side, sending her hair every which way. Right, the window.

She pulled the hallway window shut, an air of finality settling in her bones.

—

“Nocturn!” The shout echoed down the long, stretching corridor along with the bang of the door slamming open. Within moments, a blur of black and white sped into the room.

“You know you could’ve just knocked,” Nocturn said. “I would’ve considered letting you in my second favourite dreamer if you were polite about it.”

“What’d you do with—” Danny paused. “Wait. Second?”

Nocturn swept open his cloak, revealing a figure just a tad taller than Danny himself floating close to his chest, her head bowed.

A swirling mess of dark purple, blue, and black speckled with shining white stars were painted on her skin. Her hair was a dark shade of orange and flowed freely around her, as if underwater.

“Well, my dear? Shall we entertain our guest?”

She lifted her head and Danny gasped. Her face was free of paint, but blank, bereft of all features save a waterfall of neverending black tears down her cheeks. But even without a face, Danny could recognize her. Could never not recognize the very reason he came here in the first place. 

That—that was—

“Yes, Lord Nocturn,” Jazz said.

[corner-stories]

ghost town + jeankasa please???

September Prompts 🌻

22. ghost town modern au kinda? also this is set in Toronto bc why not? Ontario deserves representation, too. (ao3.)

As she drives she keeps her phone in the cupholder — the bright red notification blaring on the screen, capital letters repeating the same message over and over until it's the only thing she can think about.

Her foot is firm on the pedal as she drives through what was once a vibrant city, now rendered into a ghost town. For once traffic in Toronto is sparse, but not for the reasons she would like it to be. She goes faster once she's on the 403, soon speeding across a highway that she's not used to seeing so empty. Static plays from the radio, a noise that grates against her ears yet she tolerates in the hopes of hearing another update.

Nothing changes by the time she arrives at Oakville. Undeterred, Mikasa parks the car on the street, steps out, and rushes straight into her apartment complex.

As she goes she gets a brief glimpse of the others on her street, a place that had grown so familiar to her over the years is now rendered uncanny in the absence of residents. Far off she swears she can see other people leaving their homes, bags slung over their shoulders as they hop into vehicles. She can already imagine a look of discomfort on their faces, anything to mask the terror of a scenario filled with so many unknowns.

What's happening? Why is it happening? How did it lead to this?

Those same questions run through Mikasa's head as she enters her building and dashes up the stairs. She gets to her apartment and knocks on the door hard enough for her knuckles to hurt.

"Jean?!"

Barely a second passes before she grabs her key and opens the door. Her apartment is quiet, an abode characterized by laminated wood and beige carpeting, but made more lively through the presence of plants and paintings, the smaller kinds that collect in the corners or on sections of the walls. She ignores it all as she heads to the bedroom.

She opens the door and a sigh of relief escapes her once she sees him there.

As to be expected Jean is asleep in their shared bed, tangled in the sheets and breathing slowly. He's a night owl by nature and under normal circumstances Mikasa would let him rest, but the fear rushing through her veins knows that it can't be. She steps over and kneels at his side of the mattress, shaking him awake with a sense of urgency.

"Jean? Jean!"

His eyes open abruptly and he takes a moment to blink before focusing on her.

"Mikasa? What's— oh."

She doesn't waste time — she tugs him by his shirt and pulls her close to him, holding him in the kind of hug where her head very perfectly fits against his shoulder. If not for his sake than for her own, and for the fact that all she needed to know was whether he was alive.

Jean hugs her back, though his gesture is more awkward and stilted. When they pull away the first thing Mikasa sees is the look of confusion in his eyes.

"What's going on?" he asks, obviously concerned.

Mikasa stands up. "You were really knocked out, weren't you? Check your phone."

As Jean reaches for the device on his night stand she goes to the dresser and cobbles together a quick outfit. She tosses the clothes on the bed and sees him eyeing his phone screen, a sense of terror slowly overcoming him as the details become clear. She's not sure which word in particular causes his skin to crawl — outbreak, evacuation, epidemic — but at least now he knows why she had returned home so quickly.

"How did I fucking sleep through this?" Jean says, running a hand through his messy hair.

"You tell me," Mikasa replies. "But we have to get to Brampton."

She leaves the bedroom and returns to the living room, where she goes to a closet and finds a backpack. As she rummages around the apartment for essentials to bring along — medication, identification, her late father's old wristwatch — she realizes that the fear that had permeated her on the drive from downtown is not completely gone. She tries to hold the feeling down as she slips an extra phone charger into her bag — she can't let it bother her, not here and not now. If not for herself, then for Jean — she can't lose him too.

[museum-spaces]

Oh nerds, I have had a week of a week. Frist off; house keeping. I got the job in Vancouver and my last day at Camel Town was yesterday. I start in Van in 7 days.

Now for my week of weeks,

While still interviewing find the Perfect Place to live. A 2 bedroom condo in my price range available in time for my start date. Stop looking for other places.

Get job offer, tell new landlord to move forward, get emails from his rental company, look up rental company and see it is a real one that exists.

Make plans with Sister to transport Ianto and I to Vancouver. Sister's partner takes a day off work to help.

Send deposit of 3400CAD to rental company [deposit consists of 1 month rent 1700, and two damage deposits - one for Ianto -totalling 1700]. Normal and legal in Canada. Most places just ask for one of the deposits but not illegal.

Do all that by Friday [9th]

Walking Ianto at 6;30am on Monday 12th - 4 days before planned move in date - and get email from rental company asking for another deposit of 3400 as 'insurance' because they have been 'having issues with transactions from Canada and the United States'. Will not send keys and paperwork before getting the additional funds.

Think for a minute and reply something like 'Landlord and I agreed on 3400, which you have just confirmed you received. Please send the keys etc asap.'

Alarmingly quickly Landlord [not company] emails me to say company got in touch with him and this is their policy. He will give me 20 per cent off rent for first 6 months if I just send the money. [This is the first red flag I actually notice]. I replythat I am moving in 4 days and if the transaction takes as long as the first one, I won't have anywhere to live but be out a fuckton of money.

Calll my parents. It's 6;30 in BC but they are visiting Ontario where its 9;30. Not worried about waking them. Mum immediately offers to transfer the money for me because part of the issue is that I have to move money around to get that much which takes up to 48 hours. I cut her off and say 'I feels scammy' which dad agrees with.

Dad is a retired real estate agent, gets in contact with folk in BC a few hours later while I go to work and freak out [had already packed my anxiety meds... not fun]. Turns out 'Landlord' doesn't have title for the condo.

Also Rental Company email is very obvious fake. I googled the company but didn't check the email. Like a fool.

Tell 'landlord' that I cannot move that amount of money in the time allotted and would like my deposit back please [didn't expect to get it back but... its the presidency.]

Looked for another rental. Found one that wasn't dog friendly. Ianto is a service dog but is not yet certified to BC standards. Thought I'd give it a shot anyway. Called and was very frank; just got scammed, moving at end of week for work, have a dog. She gave me a short list of other rentals she knew accept dogs because she could not allow Ianto before his test.

Contacted a few, Ianto was too big for a few, filled out an application to one, and got a virtual tour set up for the other [this takes us to Tuesday].

Tuesday email my contact at job in Vancouver to let her know that I might not be able to start on the 22nd because no home. She [witn permission] then contacts my board to let them know. One has a line on an apartment.

Discover my mattress is very mouldy.

Application denied with no option to contest, virtual tour cancelled because property manager got sick and couldn't reschedule until this coming Monday.

Call my bank about the scam. They start an investigation which will take about 10 days and cancel my debit card because... I don't know. [bringing us to the end of Wednesday]

Application to board member's suggestion accepted. Need to pay the down payment which is just one of the damage deposits. They take in-person payments or money orders. Because my card is currently... gone. I cannot do online or app banking. Would have to do in-person or phone. Nearest branch to me is 2 hours away by car and I don't drive. Try calling. It takes over an hour to discover that because of the investigation I cannot get a money order done via the phone. Because that would be too easy.

Call my parents - they were busy - texted my brother. Asking both if they could help. Brother puts me in contact with his partner who would have their car tomorrow at the same time my parents offer to do a money order for me. Get the address etc from new rental company [legit]. Send confirmation.

Move in date is [probably] Saturday.

So, a very week of a week if I do say so myself and it's not over yet. I need to finish packing still [wall art, blankets, the last of Ianto's stuff and odds-and-ends]. Still need to get there. Chance the Money Order won't get there in time - as it has to go from Ontario to BC and tomorrow is Friday. but... Better position by miles than on Monday.

There is a small chance my bank can get my money back but.... Unlikely and it was a painful lot of money to say the least.

[cuylleed]

Wanna build next to the cup? ᯓ★ Will Cuylle

this wasn't requested and it's my first Fan-Fic, and I'll gladly take any requests for hockey guys just give me a scenario,player,position(not really needed) and team, i'll only do NHL and I only use Y/N

Will Cuylle/Left Wing/New York Rangers

Word count : 1047

Warnings: smut but fluff at end

it's Will Cuylle's turn with the cup so you and your boyfriend build legos but he ask's you to sit in his lap but it turns into something more.(this when Will is back in Ontario,Canada with his family,family isn't there, maybe grocery shopping?)

Y/N= Your Name

N/N= Nick Name

No Protection! (P in V)

                                                                                ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Y/N and Will sat peacefully building a Lego set Will had gotten for his birthday a few months ago, at least until he heard the doorbell ring from upstairs, seeing as it could be his old friend or teammate but instead when Will went upstairs to the door, he opened it and he was greeted with Braden Schneider holding the Stanley cup and with a smile on his face, Will was stunned forgetting it was his turn with the cup,Will grinned and taking the cup into his hands looking back to Braden,Will carefully gave the trophy to Y/N, turning to Braden ,"be careful with it, and do whatever you like, like drinking beer out of it or eating ice cream, just wipe it when your done" Y/N and Will nodded saying there goodbye's to Braden,Will and Y/N quickly taking the cup to Will's room, "Wanna build next to the cup?", Will said, Y/N's eyes lighting up to the thought "I would love that" Y/N had said smiling sitting on the ground in front of Will's coffee table building some star wars legos with her boyfriend.

⋆˚✿˖°.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚⋆｡𖦹°‧★

While Y/N and Will were building they kept exchanging little playful pinches and jokes, but finally after a few minutes Will mustered up the courage to ask Y/N a question, "Hey N/N could you maybe sit on my lap?" Will smiled looking at Y/N for an answer, "oh you sure? won't it be uncomfortable?" Y/N said putting some Lego piece's down smiling at Will, "I mean,no, not really,just come sit in my lap" Will Encouraged Y/N and motioning her to come over. Y/N just gave in and sat on Will's lap not noticing the bulge hitting her inner thigh, she just continued to build Lego's while Will played with her hair. 15 minutes had passed and Y/N was starting to notice the little groans or muffled moans coming from Will every few minutes and little tugs on her hair,every time she had to reach to get another piece or stretch Y/N would hear the groans escape Will's mouth. Y/N and Will had done it a few times before in the past, only before Will wasn't busy with hockey, before playoffs started, so you and him never had time, he always had to be showered, in a suit and out the door before a certain time and he was mostly gone in other states for away games, which meant y/n and Will hardly had time to fuck or anything really, but y/n was staying at Will's place for a few days to celebrate the Rangers win of the Stanley cup. but now since hockey is over and y/n was with Will she can finally take the chance and have some fun with Will. And at this moment Y/N was slowly grinding on Will's lap,"Please let's take this to the bedroom." Will had said little groans escaping his lips and grabbing Y/n's hips. "Can't we just take this to the bedroom?" Y/n had said groaning at the feeling of grinding on Will's lap, "we could but were right here in front of the couch" Will said shrugging off the idea of going to the bedroom, instead Will pulled Y/n off of his lap and placed her on the couch with her legs on his shoulder's not caring if they didn't finish the Lego set and taking  Y/n's shorts and underwear off throwing them off to the side, even removing his own clothes. "Will, please,just hurry before your parents get home" Y/n groaned her hands placed on Will's chest, "Alright but we'll just head to your place tomorrow" without warning Will pushed into Y/n earning a low whimper. "relax I'm gonna take care of you" Will said groaning moving his hips, just making Y/n scream out his name. "F-Fuck Will, I'm so close" Y/n whimpered close to her climax, while Will released but his thrusts getting sloppy, after what "felt" like forever Y/n climaxed and released on Will's length earning a small moan from from both lovers. "wow" was all that came out of Will's mouth, he knew they hadn't done it in a long time and finally he was able to be close with Y/n again. it just was until he heard the sounds of a garage door open and a car pulling in, "Shit" was all that came out of both of your mouth's, Will quickly grabbing his and Y/n's clothes and running over to his door tossing them into his room and even taking Y/n and shoving a shirt and shorts on. "We're home, can you guys help with the Grocery's?" the words coming from Will's mom, "we'll be there in a minute!" Y/n rushed upstairs to help while Will quickly cleaning the part of the couch with the evidence of there moment. "maybe you and Will can build this" Will's mom brought out a small Lego set of a R2-D2, "that's cute but we didn't even finish the other set" Y/n giggled seeing Will walk up the steps with the Stanley cup. "Maybe we could take a photo" Will smiled taking out his phone. 

Y/n and the Cuylle family had enjoyed the rest of the night taking photo's with the cup,building Lego's and talking, with all jokes, even Will's father bringing up marriage which made Will consider (maybe a future story?)

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁! End!

First smut, i tried my best and it was my first story, I've never wrote smut but i'll get used to it when i get requests for it, don't be shy i won't care, besides i like writing

[trashyswitch]

ILL MISS CHARLES!! 😭

I have a story to tell you about Charles Martinet, Mario and a certain girl going through a tough time:

2008, in a small town in Ontario, Canada...A little girl had her things packed up in a car driven by the only people she ever knew at that point: Her foster parents. They were the people that raised her thus far, and saved her life countless times when no one else could do so. They were devoted to her, and treated her like a grandchild.

The car rolled up to a big house in this tiny town. They parked, got out of the car, and helped the little girl get moved into the house. The little girl had only just turned 5 years old...She had been adopted a couple months earlier, and now she was taking the last step of making it official: she was being moved into her new forever home. Her new parents greeted her at the door, and gave her a welcome home present: A baby doll in a bikini and a bed/bathing bunk bed set. She absolutely loved it!

Her new brother raced her upstairs, to see her new bedroom. This would be the first time that the little girl had a bedroom. Up until then, she had never grown accustomed to sleeping alone, and always had to sleep in the same room as her foster parents because that felt the most safe. She jumped on the bed, squealing loudly in excitement. It was a beautiful bedroom! This ended up being the day that would vividly stick in her head for decades to come.

But not all was sunshine and rainbows. For the little girl didn't understand that she won't see her foster parents as often anymore. And she was now in a brand new home, with no friends and no full understanding of what being a daughter to new parents meant. She quickly developed anxiety from all the new rules, all the new things she had to go to, and the new disciplinary actions that scared her into believing she was a terrible daughter and therefore, wasn't worth being adopted.

But one thing kept her calm throughout that time...

Her brother had shown her a game called Super Mario Bros 3 for the Gameboy. She was allowed to play it whenever she asked, and spent many minutes on the game. That was the first introduction. She grew to recognize this red character they called Mario, and this green character they called Luigi. It was fun for her, and she loved their silly voices. Her new brother imitated their voices all the time, which made it even more hilarious! And Charles Martinet's Italian impression was always the voice she recognized to be Mario. And Luigi had a recognizable voice too! She didn't know, but Charles Martinet voiced both Mario and Luigi!

It didn't take long for the little girl to start using her imagination. Mario would show up in her room and take her on adventures too. Mario distracted her from the fears of this new world, and helped her push through. Mario was her right-hand man when she went to school. Mario kept her company when the little girl was on a timeout. Unlike her parents, Mario never left her alone. He knew how stressed the little girl was. And he watched as the stress slowly became her normal. She never spoke a word to her new parents because she felt terrible for feeling this way about something good. But Mario always understood. Mario read her mind effortlessly and comforted her through it all.

15 years later...the original voice actor of Mario and Luigi, would retire. By now, that little girl was all grown up. She developed other tools to help her anxiety, and she went by the nickname 'Pocket' online. And the night that girl found out about his retirement...she cried into her pillow. The voice behind the imaginary friend she had loved as a child, was retiring and moving onto other things. She...was bittersweet about it. Because as much as she wanted Charles to do other things with his life...He was the go-to voice she would emulate in her head when her life-saving imaginary friend would come around. Super Mario was her first ever tool for anxiety. And if she ever came across him or had enough money to fly to see him...she wanted to give him a big hug and thank him for indirectly helping her through one of the hardest transitions of her life.

Thank you, Mr. Martinet. Thank you for all you did for Mario, and every generation that Mario inspired. He would never have come alive nearly as well without your help. You are one of the most underappreciated humans known to mankind. And in my opinion, you deserve to be placed beside Bob Ross as a legend.

[sapenvs3000f23]

Unit 04: Nature's Gift of Beauty 🦋

Who are you to interpret nature through art? How do you interpret “the gift of beauty”?

Hi fellow interpreters! Can you believe we are already on Unit 04? Personally, I feel like my relationship with nature has already deepened since starting this course. The dedicated space to delve into reflective prompts has been helping me pay more attention to how I feel while in natural spaces and appreciate the everyday systems we observe without a second thought— a very grounding experience. I hope everyone has a chance to get outside amongst all the coursework and midterm prep this long-weekend! 

As explained in “Chapter 10: Art in Interpretation” of our Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage for a Better World textbook, art moves our mind from the ordered and sequential logic into the deeper, more cyclical world of imagery, values, metaphor, and symbolism. Art is a gateway— a gateway into developing deeper understanding and appreciation. So, who am I to interpret nature through art? Who is anyone to interpret nature through art, really? I think the intertwining of nature and art is one of the most powerful parts of the human experience. I struggle to imagine a time when I wasn’t mesmerized by the beauty of natural influences for artistic endeavors. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve scribbling detailed oceanic scenes while laying in my backyard or setting up an easel outside to oil-paint the newly bloomed hyacinths and daffodils in my grandparents garden. 

My interpretation of “the gift of beauty” seems emotionally  ineffable. Our textbook used examples like discovering the beauty in the workmanship of a piece of antique furniture, in the special adaptation of an insect, or in a majestic panoramic view to describe this concept. Such discoveries are neither strictly educational nor merely fun, they stretch into the mind of something more, something profound, making them indescribable and difficult to measure. Hence, ineffability, the inability to fully articulate the meaning of an experience. Thankfully for us, that is where the art itself comes in. Art helps transform those inexplicable feelings into tangible visuals. For me, this is done through my nature journal of pencil drawings and pressed flowers, the natural influences in my upcycled clothing and jewelry, or the hundreds of nature photographs and artistic postcards on my bedroom walls. It is done through the oddly-shaped pieces of glassware that display plant propagations along my window sill and the handmade pottery created to home my houseplants— each a mother to the propagation display. My plants ask me to open the curtains every morning, creating a beautiful visual display of artistic light through the glass (sometimes I think they ask more for me than themselves). Together, these visuals are my personally cultivated art museum, my place to visually interpret the “gift of beauty”.

Overall, I think it is clear that art has the power and transforming qualities to move people in extraordinary ways. Interpreting the “gift of beauty” is something to be shared! The use of art in interpretation can be extremely effective when attracting and serving visitors, especially visitors who are not necessarily passionate about the environment. A common example is art museums, which thrive on interpretation through tours, lectures, and courses to bring people together. The visual arts help us manage the confusion that comes along with life! Simultaneously, they provide tools to extend the range and impact of what we admire across our whole lives, a different but equally beautiful experience for everyone. 

Check out the photos below, they were taken from Ontario trails this summer and made me stop to appreciate the "gift of beauty" :)

[edhelwen1]

Ringing in the New Year Part 4

For your reading pleasure, the next FOUR Thursdays-Fridays are a short story set at Christmas after Assassins! Accidental Matchmakers. If you haven’t read that yet, you can find it at all major book retailers, including Chapters Indigo.

Friday the 27th of December, 2002 – Parry Sound, Ontario

“You’ve thought it all out, haven’t you?”

“Down to the ten strings of fairy lights in my backyard,” admitted Jason. He picked up the manual again. “Have we bonded enough? Can we get Kennedy in here to save us?”

Gerard chuckled. “She’s probably chomping at the bit to help us. Go ahead.” He stopped Jason from getting up with a hand to his shoulder. “And, son, we would be thrilled to welcome you to our family.”

Jason grinned, relieved. “Thank you.”

Late that night, he cuddled Kennedy close in her childhood bedroom, running his fingers over her shoulder and trying not to think about the expanse of bare skin he had access to further down. He shifted his hips, relieving the pressure of her leg that was draped across his body. She grumbled in her sleep and squeezed him tighter before relaxing and snuggling deeper into his embrace. Her breath tickled his chest on each exhale. He traced her left hand as it rested on his abdomen, imagining the delicate ring encircling her finger. Only four more days, he thought. Hopefully.

Jason sighed. Despite his early start and the busy day, he didn’t feel tired. Moonlighting as the Phantom meant that he was often up late, and he was used to that routine.

Gently, he shifted Kennedy until he could stand up.

“Hmmm?” she mumbled in her sleep, turning her head to follow him. “You ‘k?”

“Not tired yet. I’m going to go grab a quick bite and maybe do a workout,” he whispered,  pressing a kiss to her forehead. She tilted her chin up for a kiss to her lips, which he happily provided.

“I know how to tire you out,” she said sleepily, eyes still closed.

He chuckled. “You do indeed. But not tonight. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm’kay.” She yawned and burrowed into the spot he had left.

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[nuagederose]

kinktober 2022 // day nineteen: rattlesnake shake prompt: masturbation (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairing: alex/krista (dead man walking) also on ao3 💋

It was one of those nights where the lake effect had rolled into that particular part of upstate New York and a fine layer of hoarfrost had crossed over every plant and every edge of every fence post. It had been a long time coming with the house there, but Krista and Alex had managed to bring it back for themselves, even though Mrs. Jones and Peter swore that they would be back in time. The cold rain beckoned off in the distance, and it would be there in no time to wash away the frozen fog and perhaps warrant a blanket of snow before sunrise: and yet, despite the cold courtesy of the black waters of Lake Ontario, Krista kept her bedroom window open to let in a bit of fresh air.

It had been a few hours since she had lay Olivia down and nearly an hour since Alex had lay down to sleep on the couch.

She had offered him to share the bed with her so he could be a bit more comfortable, but he promised her that he was alright being in the next room on the couch.

She had changed into a white silken nightgown and ran a hairbrush through her short, shoulder-length blonde hair when she caught the sound of the rain on the roof overhead. She stopped and she peered out the doorway to the hallway as well as the entrance to the living room: the two of them were sound asleep.

Though he was in the heart of his twenties, Alex did seem like a baby to her in his own rite. He had walked into her life when she needed that dose of comfort following Joey’s demise, in the same vein of how Olivia was the one piece of Joey she had left behind there on Earth. Add to this, he had a habit of being fussy whenever there was a slight disagreement between the two of them.

He lay out there on the couch, sound asleep under those big heavy blankets from the hall closet: a part of her thought of walking out there all to kiss him on the forehead, a new habit that she still had yet to acquaint herself with.

Krista ran the brush through her hair some more and then she set it down on top of the dresser: she adjusted the collar of her nightgown one last time before she climbed into bed and tugged the blankets over her body. She reached up and switched off the lamp, which in turn engulfed the room around her in sheer darkness.

She lay down and rested her hands on her stomach underneath the blankets.

The sound of the rain on the roof acted as her white noise machine.

Olivia made soft little whimpers in the next room, but she never woke up.

Krista sighed through her nose and she brought a hand to the side of the bed to her left. Though it had been two years, she could still feel him there. His memory had faded from the mattress, but not from her flesh or from her mind. The body never forgot where it came from and who it interacted with, and Joey’s absence rang throughout her like the clapper of a bell. He gave her Olivia and he gave her the house, and moreover, he gave her all of the secrets that he had kept at bay for so long.

If only she could speak to him again. If only she could feel him again.

Though it had been two years, she could still feel him on her fingertips. How she longed to feel him for real that time around: two years and she still had her moments whereby she missed him with such pain. He was the love of her life. He would always be the love of her life.

Alex was kind enough to fill the void in her life, but he lacked the same shape of Joey.

Her fingers crossed over the top of the mattress right next to her.

Her other hand over her breasts, the way that Joey used to touch her and feel her up. The nightgown was comprised of nothing more than two layers of lace upon a single layer of fine white satin: such thin fabric, that she could feel her nipples right underneath there.

She grimaced at the feeling of her own hand there: she had been so acquainted with having another person touch her body that the feeling of her own hand and her own fingers upon herself felt so alien at that point. But then again, she thought about Joey right next to her, with his hands all over her body out of a moment that she had yearned for in the last two years. Even with Alex’s sweetness at the helm, she still wished for something further than that.

It came as no surprise to her that she was more than willing to run her hands down the small of his back onto his ass and his hips. He was a soft boy who lay himself down next to her at one point. And yet, she still wanted more with him, but she could see it in his eyes, however. The same feeling did not exist with him.

If only she could plant those same feelings in him as she did with him. If only she could plant those same feelings back into Joey as he did when he was alive next to her.

She kept her eyes closed as she ran her hand down towards the hem of her nightgown. Krista rolled over onto her side and pulled the hem of her gown up. She had gotten herself into this: she could dig herself out of there and she was the only one who could in fact dig herself out as well. She sighed through her nose as her hand ran up her bare thigh towards the hem of her panties.

Krista nibbled on her bottom lip as she slipped her fingers down inside of the waistband for a better feeling. A caress of her breasts and her nipples only proved to do so much for her at that moment.

In that moment, she recalled the times in which she and Joey would get together, and he was always so kind and gentle to her... because she loved it kind and gentle, especially down below the waist.

She rolled back over onto her back: she kept her left hand on the other side of the mattress all for safe-keeping. She pictured Joey right there, right next to her with the side of his head propped up onto the back of his hand. His black curls sprawled down over his upper arm as well as his shoulder and a part of his chest. She pictured him without a shirt on as well.

She nibbled on her bottom lip once again as she pictured her left hand caressing his body down. The fingers down the front of her panties slithered in between her legs for a slight, soft touch. Nothing more than the darkness and the orange afterglow of the clouds outside all around her; but inside of her mind, she saw Joey right there next to her, ready to pounce on her even from beyond the veil, even as he lay in the next room in the form of ashes inside of a little urn perched upon a small shelf. Her fingers slipped into the hood as Joey brought his head closer to the side of her neck for a good little kiss after so long it seemed at that point.

Krista rolled her head over the top of the pillow for a glimpse into his eyes, those big brown eyes that she had missed after all this time. Joey parted his dark lips as if he beckoned a kiss from her.

“Where have you been?” she asked him in a soft voice.

“Where have I been?” he echoed her. “I never left, my dear.” He closed those eyes and he lingered closer to her. Another swipe between her legs from her index and middle fingers and she could feel the top rising up before her. She could see the top, but she had another kiss for Joey in the wings, however.

“We made a baby together,” he whispered into her ear.

“Indeed, we did,” she whispered back to him.

“I kind of want to do it again,” he confessed to her.

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Really, really. I want to make another baby with you, maybe two or three or five more.”

“Five!”

“Whatever you want to do, though. I want a family with you.”

“But Joey—you're dead.”

“I know. I still want it with you, though. I want the biggest family possible here on the other side.”

“How would that work?”

“You and me at the helm—and all of our friends and all of their families. All of us. Together.”

“So... not having children?”

“Nope. Since we’ll both be dead together, there’s no way we’ll be able to. But we’ll all be a family together forever.”

“What about Alex?” she asked him as she tugged her fingers out from under that little hood.

“Kiss him for me,” Joey whispered into her ear, and he pressed his lips onto her own. How sweet it was to feel him again upon her skin. She slipped her fingers back in between her lips for another soft touch of her clit.

Joey rested a hand on the side of her head and he hooked one leg around her hips to bring her closer to him. He slipped his tongue in between her lips: all the while, she pictured his tongue between her legs.

“Joey...” she blurted out as she came. “What’re you doing?”

“I want you, Krista,” he begged her. “I want you with me again. Be with me again.”

“But Joey, if I’m with you again, that means I'll have to die,” she pointed out in between kisses from him.

“Nonsense,” he whispered to her; she could feel herself rising again by the mere touch of her own hand. “Nonsense, nonsense—I'll be with you no matter what. I'll always be with you no matter what happens to you, if you go with Alex or someone else. Forever and always—”

She swore that she could feel his erection in between her legs and he inserted inside to make her reach the second climax. But then she opened her eyes and gasped, and she realized that it was her own doing.

Krista let out a low whistle and she shivered. At that point, the room had fallen so cold from the rain and the frozen fog out there that she wondered as to how Olivia was doing. She took her hand out from the front of her underwear and she rolled out of bed to shut the window. She peered out of the windowpane only to find that a fresh layer of ice had fallen and collected outside of the protective screen.

She shivered and shook her arms and legs about to bring the heat back. But she still couldn’t hardly shake the feeling from in between her legs. Through the dim light, she took a glimpse at her hand and she was surprised to find that her fingers were completely dry. She had fucked herself completely dry.

She returned to the bed, only to find that empty space on the other side once again.

But she lay down on the left side of the bed once again, and that time, she had rolled over onto her side. Even with Joey gone away, the bed felt a bit warmer with that release out in the open.

Meanwhile, Alex was in the living room, sound asleep on the couch. Mrs. Jones and Peter had gutted the basement and he had no desire to sleep down there since the darkness down below those floorboards brought out something in him. Maybe it was the memory of the green light there as well as Eric’s encounters there that got to him.

Krista had offered him to sleep in the bed with her until they were able to fix and refurbish the basement to where it could be an appropriate guest room for him.

“Nah, that’s your room,” he had insisted to her. “I don’t want to invade your privacy like that.”

“You won’t be invading my privacy,” she pointed out, to which she rested her hands on his shoulders and gave him a gentle massage. He was so tense, and the both of them could feel it even through the sole touch of her fingers.

He had let his hair grow out more and more until it nearly reached his waist: whenever he lay down on those particularly cold nights, he let those long thick curls spread over his shoulder and his side like a thick blanket.

He was growing much softer with the entrance of his later twenties. His skin and his whole entire body felt so soft, like a big teddy bear. Or better yet, like a young boy again. As he grew older and aged with the plume of gray at the crown of his head, he could feel himself softening as if he aged in reverse.

He flashed back on the first time he slept in the guest room, back when Krista was still barely pregnant, and he let the blankets in that guest bed envelope his bare body against the cold of the house. Indeed, he lay there on the couch in nothing more than his pajama bottoms and his socks: the only other exception was he hadn’t washed his hair that night.

It was moments such as this that Alex crammed his hands down in between his thighs. Though the three thick and heavy blankets kept him warm from the cold of the house, he still wedged his hands in the safety of his fine thighs as if he had nothing that surrounded him. He buried his head deeper into that soft pillow and he snuggled further down into the couch cushions.

But something was still amiss. Something that he had missed for over two years at that point, and something that drove him to that house in the first place.

It was like a one-two punch, from his leaving Testament, which was then followed by his girlfriend breaking it off with him. He had massaged the deep wounds on his back and the side of his heart, and he put on a brave, stoic face out there in the wilderness, but sometimes, in fleeting moments along the way, the pain returned to him, especially when he took notice of the level of a sex symbol Peter had ascended to in that time. She was the first one he had talked to about his decision to leave Testament, after all; and yet, that still wasn’t good enough for her. Thus, he picked up and left California for a while.

There were moments in which he regretted that decision, but then again, every time he turned around, something else went wrong back there with Testament. Eric, Louie, and Chuck had been all the more helpful for him and Krista, but nothing could change the fact that they, too, were going through something that, the more he thought about it, the more relieved he felt that he had ducked away from there when he did. Even with Krista’s kindness there at his side, he still yearned for something else in his life. Something that he wished that he could bring back with him there to upstate New York.

Ah, yes, Krista. She had been a mother for over a year at that point to Joey’s daughter and he wondered if any move towards her on his part would be all in vain.

It wasn’t like Joey would see him, however: there was no such thing as a ghost, and Joey would have wanted her to move onto a new chapter of her life anyway, one with her daughter and whomever she found attractive enough to call her own again. But then again, he often felt as though Joey watched him. Add to this, there were those moments on her part where she looked on at Alex the way she would with Joey. The little smiles, the twinkle in her eye, the sly subtle remarks. All of it so subtle, and yet the more that he thought about it as he lay there on the couch, rolled up in those blankets like a big cannolo, the more that he wondered if there really was there something here.

And since it was so subtle, he really had no idea if Krista genuinely felt the same way as him, and that wasn’t really so much as something that he could drop into conversation with her, either. He sure didn’t see that with his ex-girlfriend and she had been upfront with him about her feelings and her sincerity.

He groaned inside of his throat and he let his right hand slid up towards his waist.

He wanted Krista to touch him, to lovingly touch him and to mean every part of it to boot.

His fingers slid down inside of his pajama bottoms. Into his underwear. He opened his knees a bit so he could have a better touch on himself.

He nibbled on his bottom lip and he ran his hand all along the shaft for a good hearty feeling. He kept his eyes closed as his fingers caressed over that warm skin. The tip of his index finger brushed over the smallest indentation near the head, barely big enough for the tip of his finger, and it took him a second to realize that was the part of a vein there. If only everything there was perfectly smooth. Perfectly smooth to slid right in between a pair of lips.

Alex caressed his own skin and bowed his head so he lay in the fetal position.

It was like reopening an ancient wound, and one that still hadn’t healed all the way, either. The deepest wound on his heart. On his psyche. On himself.

All this time, he swore that he was completely unlovable. Everyone else seemed to be doing better than him and he was nothing more than the guitarist for hire: the guy out in the wilderness who, even though he found some ways through it all, had nothing to fall back on should something horrible happen to him, like he lost his apartment or if he had no way of founding a place for himself down in New York City.

His own touches only opened up those old feelings for him. Something inside of him burned away at the seams and yet, even with the sheer agony that followed around in the trails of his fingers, he couldn’t stop touching. He groaned in his throat as he moved his fingers closer to his body and the base of his dick.

If only someone could love him the way that he loved another person. If only someone could love his body and his heart and his mind. If only someone could love him with such depth, such power. All the way to the ends of the earth. There was something wrong with him, in how he loved the way that he loved. No one else he had come across had that kind of depth to them.

To bleed like him. To inject with venom like him only to bleed out on the hard wood before him.

He rolled over onto his back: all while he kept his hand down in between his legs.

If only someone else knew where to touch him, and to touch him just right, in the right spot and with the right amount of pressure. No one else knew how he felt, however: he could be the most open book in the world and someone somewhere would still get it wrong. Or worse yet, they would burn the book and he would be left behind in a circle of ashes and cinders with his shirt wide open, his jeans unbuttoned, and his body out in the open in the ugliest form of the truth possible.

He pictured Krista right on top of him, like the old succubus from folklore. Her nude body as it caressed over him like the wisps of frozen fog and the cold rain outside of the house. Her breasts over his own chest: since she had given birth, they were extra-large and soft to the touch. Though they were supposed to be for Joey’s tender touches, he couldn’t help but picture his own lips around those pale nipples. Her hand on the side of his face as well as his neck, her lips close to his own, her hips ground up against the middle of his body.

His hand had become her own instead.

They locked eyes so as to drink each other in. He parted his lips and treated her to the most delicate whimper his big round voice could provide at hand. She showed him a little smile as she caressed the side of his face.

“Love me—” he beseeched to her in the softest voice. “Please love me—”

“I do,” she whispered into his ear.

“Please,” he begged her again. “Tell me I'm crazy for feeling this way.”

Krista lightly tapped the tip of his nose with her own index finger and then she gave him the deepest, hardest kiss yet.

When he brought his fingers to the head down below, he gasped at the ticklish feeling there, but he never opened his eyes. So sensitive. So light and soft to the touch.

She brought her hand there for a feel. She gently held onto him which in turn sent shivers up and down his spine. His thighs writhed from the feeling as he struggled to escape, but she had such a good hold on him with nothing more than a couple of fingers. He wanted to escape but he also didn’t.   And it was the most bizarre thing: he swore that she knew where to touch him.

Her eyes locked onto his. He never moved a muscle. Her venom into him as if she had sunk her fangs into the side of his neck for a good hearty bite.

It was all for her but it was also all for him.

To love meant to die. To die meant to belong to her forever. At least that was the way that Joey went through with it.

Joey's presence in the far corner of the room or not, he could still feel himself coming. He swallowed and he let out a low whistle.

He glanced about the dark room for a second: he closed his eyes again and tried to sleep, lest he ever wake up either Olivia or Krista in the other rooms.

[crazy-joes]

Curtains Sale Grimsby Sale

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