#distressed wood headboard

[fysanayairani]

Kansas City Shabby-chic Style Bedroom Bedroom - mid-sized shabby-chic style guest concrete floor and gray floor bedroom idea with white walls and no fireplace

[indiatrendzs]

Unique Artisan Doors, Carved Custom Barn Doors

Custom sliding barn doors are a huge statement decor in luxury homes, be it farmhouse chic or urban minimalist interiors. Functional art, using artisan carved panels and incorporating them into interior doors, closets, library or study, gives the house an old world character, connecting to your roots and learning from the past. Hand carved, the tree of life doors, which carries the energy of…

[totheexperts]

Master in Orange County Bedroom - mid-sized modern master medium tone wood floor and gray floor bedroom idea with gray walls, a metal fireplace and a ribbon fireplace

[cloudsofbluesmoke]

Mediterranean Bedroom in San Diego Example of a large tuscan guest medium tone wood floor bedroom design with white walls and no fireplace

[volatile-vertex]

Boston Eclectic Bedroom Bedroom - medium-sized eclectic guest bedroom idea with brown floors and purple walls but no fireplace

[imliterallyellie]

need fluffy hcs of ellie williams taking care of sick reader 😭

is this thing on? 🎤

ellie takes care of you when you're sick

a/n made this a drabble... sorry :) hope you liked this!

you were not the one to get sick, you rarely ever did. you had to deal with the occasional sneeze or cough when the cold, winter days in jackson got the better of you, but you'd never been sick. not like this.

ellie was tasked with morning patrol, which meant you were left to your own devices. you usually didn't mind it. you would take some time to do some household chores, something you never really got the chance to do whenever ellie was home. she always claimed you were 'too sexy' to be doing tasks around the house and came up with some dumb excuse that would get you underneath her rather sooner than later.

but now, you couldn't think of anything worse than getting up from this bed. the room felt like it was spinning a million miles an hour and a piercing pain shot through your head whenever you opened your eyes to the light that was creeping through the blinds.

you thanked whatever lord was out there for the fact that you had a clear schedule today, and decided that it would be best to try and get some more sleep in, ellie wouldn't be home until lunch time at least.

when ellie opened the door to your shared home and wasn't greeted with a clingy girlfriend right away, she knew something wasn't right. you never liked it when she was sent on patrol in the morning, claiming that it was 'homophobic' that she couldn't get her fair share of morning cuddles before getting up for the day.

so usually, upon entering your place she didn't even have the chance to take off her boots or hang her coat on the rack, before you were all over her jumping in her arms and pressing kisses all over her face, trying to make up for lost time.

she quickly changed into something more comfortable before setting out to look for you, soon realizing that you hadn't left your bedroom yet. a quick glance at the clock in the living room told her that it was past lunch-time, and you would never miss the chance to cook for her on days like these.

ellie hissed when the bedroom door creaked loudly upon opening it, but her eyes immediately softened seeing the state you were in. you were curled up in a ball under the sheets, fisting one of her sweatshirts that you must've grabbed when she had left for the woods this morning. your face was scrunched up, clearly in distress, even when you were asleep.

your girlfriend quickly made her way over to you, crouching down so she was level with your face. she noticed the damp sheets covering your body, indicating that you had been sweating. a quick feel of your forehead with the back of her hand told her that you had a fever and were burning up.

before waking you she ventured into your bathroom, grabbing any supplies that you could ask her for upon waking you up. a wet cloth, some painkillers, a glass of water and a bin, just in case.

she got on her knees next to you before softly cupping your cheek, whispering sweet nothings until your eyes eventually fluttered open. a small smile curled her lips while caressing your cheek. "y'okay baby?"

the sound of her soft, caring voice was enough to crack your non-existent facade, and before you know it a single, warm tear rolled down your cheek. you shook your head. "dunno what it is, woke up like this."

ellie shifted quickly without answering, walking over to her side of the bed before settling against the headboard. "c'mere love, come get comfy." you shuffled over without hesitance, laying between your girlfriend's soft thighs, that were still slightly cold on the touch from the early morning out on the trails. you laid your head down on her stomach, sighing deeply.

"got you a painkiller love, d'ya wanna be good f'me and take it?" you nodded softly, feeling ellie's body shifting underneath you when she reached over to the bedside table where she had put the glass of water and painkiller before waking you up. when you settled back down on her stomach after having taken the medicine, she draped the cold, wet cloth over your forehead to try and give you some relief.

she knew she had succeeded when she felt you unclenching your shoulders and sighing. "tell me if you're gonna be sick angel. get some more rest, i'll be here and we can try and eat something small tonight, how's that sound?"

you could only nod, already feeling yourself fall back into a slightly more peaceful slumber in the comfort of ellie's arms. the feeling of her nails scratching your scalp and her lips pressing soft, lingering kisses on your head sent you back to sleep within a couple moments.

there was a voice in the back of your head telling you that the roles would be reversed next week, but you couldn't care enough to pay any mind to it. still, who really minds taking care of their sick girlfriend?

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 21

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 20, Part 22

Warning! This series is SAGAU and Imposter AU so expect gore. Although this chapter focus more on mental distress rather then physical.

There's a soft light that shines in front of you, lulling you to open your eyes. Pure white greets you as you slowly come to your senses.

There's no feeling in your body, but it doesn't worry you. The boundless white space you exist in is comforting. The sky whirls around you as new colors burst into being.

The once blank canvas is now painted a dark sky on your left with stars sparkling like jewels. On your right is the morning sky, bright blue with clouds adorning it delicately.

It's silent but peaceful. Your relaxed conscious is stirred from its slumber by a voice echoing around you.

“Why have you returned?” 

It’s commanding, yet graceful. A cold compassion or a warm hostility?

“The deal has been finalized, and your return was never meant to be. No, that's incorrect.” A pensive hum is heard before the voice continues.

“You were meant to return at some point, but… not now, not yet. Teyvat seems to have sped up the process. While that doesn’t break the deal, I certainly won’t tolerate it amicably.”

A darker tone is used at the end of their words, before the gorgeous sky is overcome by dark red blocks. The serenity you feel is replaced by panic. You’re helpless to stop it from taking over everything.

Your vision begins to swarm with the blood-colored familiar blocks. As crimson takes over, the voice finishes their words.

“I won’t let you back so easily.” The last bits of your vision is covered and your lungs wheeze from the pain of the panic-

“Gasp-” 

You sit up in the bed as sweat dots your skin, your lungs burn, and your fingers tremble from the grip you have on the covers. Eyes darting around the small room you’re in, your brain is unable to process everything as it spins.

The dream lingers in your mind. The red blocks poke at the edge of your eyes, the voice continues to echo through your mind. Leaning back, you rest your head on the headboard, the cool wood is a relief on your sweaty skin.

Releasing your bruising grip on the blankets, you rest your palms on your chest. You do your best to pay no mind to how your hands shake. Closing your eyes, a breath is inhaled and kept in.

One… That painting like sky, where else could you see something similar?

Two… The voice that spoke about Teyvat and you so casually, as if knowing everything.

Three… A status similar to an Archon, or mage? No, maybe even higher.

Four… Those red blocks have only been seen once before.

Five… You know who it is now.

The breath is exhaled, and your eyes flutter open at your revelation. Not like she was meaning to hide it. In fact, you could be certain that she wanted you to know that she was Celestia.

Sunlight begins to stream past the edges of the curtain, the wooden floor is cold against your bare feet as you get off the bed. Yanking the curtains and opening the window, you’re greeted with the sun barely peeking out and dew still present on the greenery. 

The thought of how early you’ve been forced awake already sours your mood further.

It’s not anytime near 9 am, you would be lucky if it was half past 7 am. Sighing, you flop back onto the bed and reach for that connection between you and Teyvat.

‘Did you see that dream?’ You ask as you stare out the window from your spot. Silence envelops the room as you wait patiently. The soft beating of wings comes from the window, a Geo Crystalfly glides into the room before resting on the bedding next to you.

‘I’ll take that as a yes. What deal did Celestia make that involves me? What part did you play in speeding up my migration to this world?’ Staring firmly at the Crystalfly you remain in your spot. 

The amber wings pause and the rocky outline stick together, keeping the wings closed. The crystal exterior body offers no answer to your expectant eyes.

‘Why won’t you respond now? You’re not Zhongli who is obligated to abide by a contract. Am I not your god?’ A bubble of frustration rises at the continued silence. The Crystalfly lowers itself further against the sheets, as if bowing to you.

But you didn’t want a useless bow. You wanted answers.

‘This situation fundamentally involves me. You, or Celestia, or whoever else is in this mess brought me here. And now I’m stuck acting out this stupid Oracle role and I can’t even get a single answer as to why?’

More Geo Crystalflies enter the room, all of them perch on the bed and mimic the bowing gesture. As if that useless, passive action could subdue your ire.

‘I’ve spent every day in this damn world fighting for my life! I just barely recovered from the brink of death! And yet when I ask about this strange situation and suspicious behavior, I get no response? NOT EVEN AN INDIRECT ONE?!’

Maybe it was all the stress you’ve been under, or the pain that still lingers in your body. Some would even say it was all the emotional hurt you’ve felt at having all the characters you treasured dearly treat you like this. But you couldn’t stop yourself from raising your hand in anger, rapidly coming down on the quivering Crystalflies that just refused to move-

Clink!

Your hand is abruptly stopped by the sound of metal hitting the table. You tore your eyes away from the Crystalflies to land on a weasel sitting on the table, a single mora lays at it’s feet.

Recognizing it vaguely as the weasel thief or mora weasels that treasure hoarders train, you stare at it unimpressed. It comes closer to you as the Crystalflies gently flap away to form a path. Beady eyes stare up at you pleadingly as the backpack on it jingles with all the mora inside.

Fingers unbuckling the straps, you remove the backpack and peer into the bag. The brown bag must only hold about 500 Mora, but mora is still mora, and you empty it into your bag. Once finished, you turn back to the Crystalflies ready to intimidate and interrogate more. You only refrain when the scurrying of multiple feet catches your attention.

What has to be at least 10 weasel thieves climbing through the open window, all carrying bags stuffed to the brim. Some hold 750 Mora, while others hold 1,000. Each time you unclip the bag and pour the mora into your bag. And each time you turn towards the Crystalflies, more weasels come through.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” You groan aloud as you ignore the assortment of weasels in the room, choosing to instead sit on the bed. The Crystalflies return to the bowing position as you gaze down at them with an unreadable expression.

Carefully, you scoop up the first Crystalfly that arrived into your hands, guilt of what you had almost done wraps around your heart like a vice.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to hit you. Although this whole gatekeeping vital information is annoying, you’ve been nothing but helpful to me. Besides, you may be keeping quiet due to a threat of some sort that the divulging of information could pose.’

You could hear the sounds of the weasels returning with more and more gifts. No doubt a way for Teyvat to show its gratitude to your ‘mercy’. With pursed lips, you ignore the actions and speak to Teyvat gently.

‘I’m afraid, Teyvat. Afraid that Celestia will take drastic measures to keep me from ‘returning’ or whatever. I’m 99% that Celestia is the one who disabled my teleporting feature and why I was only able to telepathically teleport those few times. For all I know, it could be a permanent disability. I don’t want to be limited more than I already am. If it goes too far, then I may even lose those things that proved me as an Oracle. And if that happens…’

Trailing off, you close your eyes and let out a bitter sigh. Setting the Geo Crystalfly back down, its amber wings fluttering in response, you turn to the weasels. Bags of mora, jewelry, wild fruit and small gemstones are beginning to fill up the table.

Opening the flap of your bag, you point at it and then at the table. “I want you guys to put all of that into my bag. If you have bags for me to open for you, bring them to me.”

A resounding trill is heard from them before the horde of Crystalflies flew out of the window. Deciding to leave the window open, you grab the letters and gifts from your previous visitors and bring them onto the bed.

The pitter-patter of the weasels feet and occasional flap of the Geo Crystalflies wing is heard in the background as you prepare for the day. Exiting the room and crossing the silent halls, you get to what has to be the bathroom and finish your morning routine.

The shower you take was the perfect opportunity to examine how your body is after all the healing. The bandages are removed and disposed of as you look into the foggy mirror. 

Small scars in the shape of slits are seen on your body, Yelan’s arrows were no joke. The ice from Shenhe’s attacks left lighter toned patches on your calves too. Minor bruises and cuts were still healing up, but the small sting from the water didn’t bother you. If anything, it was the jagged and uneven scars along your spine that brought your mood down. 

You were lucky that your broken spine didn’t cut into your spinal cord and paralyze you…

Changing into clean clothes and wrapping some new bandages, you do it all with a sense of apathy. Wouldn’t the thought of nearly being paralyzed have more of an effect? Yet when you thought of it, you could only imagine a sense of relief…

Looking back at the now clear mirror, you reach up for your mask. The battered mask is slipped off and placed on the counter. Familiar eyes stare back, and a grimace plays on your lips.

A purple bruise makes itself known on your temple, and poorly cared for skin muddles your features. The bridge of your nose, the eyes that crinkle at your attempt of a smile, even the way your full face comes together is so-

Foreign.

It’s not yours, not anymore. 

It’s the Creators. The God that everyone worships as the one and only bearer of gold blood and highest form of authority.

Y/N does not have a face. 

You have a title and a mask to be known by. A manner of speaking that leaves all to be swindled and led by without a true clue as to what goes on. 

Licking your cracked lips, you adorn the mask once more and return to the room. Both the weasels and Crystalflies have already left, leaving it bare of activity. Closing the bag absentmindedly, you grab the medication bottles left on your bedside table. 

Following the instructions Baizhu told you last night, you drink the medication as prescribed and gag at the taste. Setting all the medication aside, you sit down on the bed again and stare at the pile on the bed.

The letters and gifts from everyone that tried to visit are quickly sorted into two piles. You dig into the designated gift pile first.

A small box is opened to reveal a pair of armored fingerless gloves. It’s not super hard to guess your size, but they fit perfectly. The second and cuter box is opened with a delicious scent imprinting its first impression.

No one else could make food that smells this good except for Xiangling. Taking advantage of the early hours AKA no Baizhu, you wolf down the meal without properly admiring it. The spicy dish won’t do your still sensitive stomach any favors, but at least you enjoyed it.

A folded up paper is the next gift. Unraveling it shows a crude drawing of a brown haired girl with a pink flower, a tall man with glasses, a boy with a color palette you barely remember and a masked figure that had to be you. 

Yiran, the little girl that you saved, had to be the one who drew this. That’s who must have spread the word and why Baizhu asked you to be lenient. Only her father, Kuan, could afford to bring her here.

The uneven letters spelling ‘My Heroes!’ at the bottom of the drawing made you smile a little. It was good that she was not only healed enough, but also happy enough to draw this for you. 

The boy next to her in the drawing brought a sadder feeling. You didn’t remember him, but you did remember his mother. Her gaunt face and pale complexion came to mind as you pocketed the drawing. You weren’t sure if you could handle facing her.

The next gift evoked a stronger sense of despair as a patchy pouch was opened to show various knick-knacks. Pretty rocks, a tin with a string, shiny coins and worn out dice. You were familiar with the nature of these objects.

Most would see it as trash, but you knew it to be toys that were just as much, if not more fun, than the toys found in shops. Bored kids with nothing to do and nothing to use will find ways to entertain themselves, and being impoverished only fuels their creativity. 

Trying to push away those nostalgic melancholic feelings, you open the last gift. A simple string necklace with a dark blue stone hanging from it laid in the box. The icy blue engraved symbol on it reminded you of Chongyun.

After disposing the trash, you put the drawing and the pouch into your bag. You reached for the letters next and opened the first one that you touched.

It was from Kuan, not unexpected, but you were interested in seeing what he had to say. What part he played in your identity getting spread around.

Most of it was profuse thanks for your completion of the commission and that the Adventurers Guild had the payment. Then it was how once Yiran had woken up, she had sneaked into the room when Baizhu was working and saw you.

Apparently she hadn’t been able to heal properly and was stuck on bed rest due to her grief. The kidnapping, death of her friend and finding out that you were going to be punished by the Adepti from the other kids created a mental block preventing her from healing.

But after seeing you and that you were still alive, her pain was eased enough that she was able to finally recover. You felt bad that she was sick all this time while you were being chased down, but she’s better now. And that’s all that mattered.

The next letter was actually from Kazuha. It detailed the sights that he had seen during his exploration of the Lisha area. It quickly turned into how panicked he felt when the wind pushed him to return to Liyue Harbor. The agonizing pain he felt over the rumors of a masked person being rushed into Bubu’s Pharmacy.

As no visitors were allowed, he went to Beidou and relayed the news. She had already finished her business and was preparing to leave. So he left you this letter and the armored gloves from Beidou.

Folding up the letter with the red and orange patterned leaf, you put it back into your bag. A knock on the door caught your attention before it opened slightly to show Qiqi.

“Oh, you’re awake.” She stands at the door frame until you nod, allowing her inside. She ambles inside with a cart of food and medicine. “Please take your medicine with the tea and eat the breakfast.” 

She leaves just as quick as she came. As you weren’t starving after Xianglings meal, you took your time with breakfast. The medicine even with the tea tasted pretty bad.

Grabbing the next letter, a faint scent of food lingers on it, letting you know who sent it. Xiangling’s letter was small enough to be confused for a note, but it still easily conveyed her wreck of emotions. It ended with her mourning the fact that she couldn’t visit after dropping off the letter due to a rematch with a Monstadter that she scheduled long in advance.

A letter with a fancy wax seal was next. Opening it, you found the most horrendous handwriting you’ve ever seen. No matter how many times you rubbed your fingers on it, hoping that Tevyat could translate the mess of a letter, it just wouldn’t get any better.

The most you could make out was that Xingqui and Chongyun tried to visit but were denied. That the amulet was a gift from Chongyun that had a spell to protect you from evil spirits. And finally, that they're going to visit sometime today.

Didn’t Xingqui have some connection with Albedo? That would be an easy way to be innocently introduced into Mondstadt.

The next one thankfully did have eligible handwriting, it was a mix of bold letters and graceful strokes. Yun Jin and Xinyan both came to visit, but only Yun Jin would have time to come today.

The thought of having to entertain all these guests with Baizhu still waiting on the explanation of your Oracle status was not improving your desire to just vanish from Liyue. You forgot how tiring it was to constantly string up webs of lies that make up a cohesive story. It was like being constantly at work with the threat of danger on a brand-new level.

That letter is quickly dismissed and you grab the final letter. The paper is stained, and the edges are worn, opening it a strange set of words are found inside it.

“Hello, do you remember me?”

Frowning, you continue to read it as you search through your memories. The words make little sense until you come across a line that summons a wave of needless guilt.

“Those children enjoyed choosing those gifts for you. They remind me of my son.”

You don’t really want to finish this letter anymore.

Despite your internal feelings, you continue to skim through the letter. It touches on how they’re all adjusting to life back on the streets. 

How the kids work together more but wail even louder in the night. The people that curse them out for coming back, the few items they had left swept away by the government as ‘trash’. The empty and hollow feeling she carries now that her son is gone.

She wished that she had given him up at birth like she was advised. That maybe at least then he would still be alive.  

She mentions her son at least once every line into the letter. 

It’s only when you see the curves of the ink spelling out his name that you scrunch up the paper. The paper crinkles as your teeth grit together, the sounds perfectly in tune with each other. 

The anger is confusing. You don’t know the kid, so why should you feel guilty? Why should you feel guilty that she chose to share her anguish with you? Why does the thought of being even more aware of that boy make your heart race?

Slowly, you open the now wrinkled and slightly torn paper and skip straight to the bottom.

“I know you probably don’t care. You never promised me that you could save him or deliver him alive to me. But it’s easier to share these feelings with someone separated from this situation than the people who are already suffering with me.”

“I should take these feelings to the Creator and beg for some relief from my pain, yet I can’t even muster the strength to care for the tongue I ripped out in my mourning. How could I possibly keep this pain to me and the Creator alone? Don’t fret about helping me. I leave that all up to our God.”

That end soothes your racing heart and warped feelings, it’s clear to you now.

You’re beginning to feel the guilt from being their God but unable to actually help with anything. Celestia somehow limited you, none of your acolytes would ever believe you to be the Creator, and the powers you do have access to now are useless.

Was it your fault? Could you have been faster and given that boy some food to have saved him? Can you speak to some form of authority and have them help those victims?

Mindlessly, you begin to tear up the letter. It’s therapeutic to watch the scraps fall onto the tray. Each ink stained paper is ripped with shaking fingers, almost like you’re ripping apart the physical manifestation of your guilt.

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.

You’re not their God, you’re just the Oracle. 

The truth doesn’t matter now. If this world can’t accept you wholeheartedly as the human you are, then why should you work to be seen as the God they cherish so much?

As if on cue, ruby droplets fall onto the worn shredded paper on the tray from the paper cuts you gained from your actions. The new gloves you got from Beidou are threatened to be stained as the red begins to trail down, but you quickly swipe it away.

Cursing yourself internally over the mess you made, you fumble with the drawer next to you for some bandages, not even hearing the repeated knocking on the door. It’s only when it’s opened and the pitter-patter of steps nearing you make you look toward it.

Cold, small fingers wrap around your own as magenta eyes stare up at you past the talisman hanging down from her hat.

“What happened?” Qiqi drawls, her signature zombie-like tone makes shame bubble up within you. Hanging your head, you don’t respond as you avoid her eyes. 

You don’t feel normal.

-------------------------

The pharmacy is noisy as people frequently pass by the door to your room. Humming a catchy tune, you drum your fingers on the window sill as you watch outside the window. You imagine the wood of the sill must be cool, but you can’t tell under the bandages wrapped around your fingers. 

Baizhu had visited you not too long ago to check on your leftover wounds and apply the topical medication. The cool moisture of the herbal medicine cooled down your body and prevented your apparent fever from worsening. 

The room is clean aside from the bag you have left sitting on the bed with your belongings safely tucked away. 

A small bag lies inside with the bloodied paper remains sitting inside it. You still aren’t sure if you were better off keeping it or throwing away. The series of knocks on your door bring your attention away from the scenery outside the window.

Staring for a second to be sure if you heard correctly, softer rapping follows up.

“Come in.” You call out before moving closer to the middle of the room. It swings open to show a girl with a shiny pink flower hairpin and a tall man wearing glasses. The smile on Kuan’s face is such a stark difference to the dark circles and sullen expression he wore when you first met him.

Yiran has bright eyes and a smile that could rival match the sun. Propufse thanks leave them both as Yiran keeps her fingers wrapped tight around her father’s. She’s still pale and clings to her father's hand when he moves to give you a handshake, but you gracefully ignore it.

“-Oh, and I’m so sorry that you’re being talked about by so many people. I really didn’t expect it to spread so far when I let her tell those other children that you saved that you were alive and recovering.” He looks kindly down at Yiran before gently urging her. “You too, Yiran, you have to apologize.”

Her eyes droop a little, but she still bows her head slightly as she apologizes. “I’m sorry, I just wanted my friends to know you were okay.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Thank you for the drawing.” You smile at them with ease and maintain small talk with them both a while longer before they leave. The door swings close, and your expression flattens at the same time.

Turning back to the window, you sit again and stare outside. The fluffy white clouds roll past in the blue sky as you allow your mind to go quiet. You just want a brief reprise from the stress you’ve been under all this time.

Time to just exist without having to worry about proving why you deserve to live in this world or your old one. Especially with Ningguang and your travel to the next region so close.

Maybe you took a nap or just dozed off, but the strum of a guitar brought your hazy mind back to awareness. Lifting your head from your arms crossed on the windowsill you see Xinyan taking steps two at a time as she runs from Millelith soldiers. 

She quickly jumps off the top step onto the concrete so far below as she continues to play her guitar. It’s impressive, but you can’t help but be irked that soldiers had enough time to chase Xinyan but not help find kidnapped children.

That spiral of thoughts is interrupted as Yun Jin walks up the same set of stairs to Bubu Pharmacy as the soldiers disappear deeper into the city. Outwardly, she’s perfectly maintained, but the slight fidget of her fingers are like a warning sign.

The first and last time you spoke to her was the day of her ‘Lonely Chameleon’ performance that you vaguely recall had her promising to clear up the misunderstanding with Keqing. 

What a bunch of good that did.

Yun Jin leaves your sight as she enters the building, and you move away from the window to crack the door open. Sitting on the foot of the bed, you patiently wait for Yun Jin to arrive. The biggest thing you relied on her about was her conversation with Keqing. So at least the situation with the Liyue Qixing can’t get any worse.

A polite knock sounds on the door before you call her in. Yun Jin steps in and closes the door behind her with a graceful smile that you return pleasantly.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you Y/N. I’m unsure if you read the letter but Xinyan and I were incredibly worried. Are you feeling any better?”

It’s not small talk, she’s genuinely concerned, but you have to force the undeserved annoyance down. “I’m feeling way better, and I’m basically almost back to normal. I’ll be discharged today, so don’t worry. Thank you for your concern.” God, you haven’t felt this fake in a while.

Yun Jin walks closer before stopping in front of you, polite as she is, she's not going to ask for a seat so you pat the spot on the bed next to you. Small talk is needlessly exchanged for a few more minutes, but you’re beginning to feel antsy from being stuck in your worry over how Keqing reacted.

“What performance did you do the day after we met? I remember you mentioning how you would speak to Keqing on my behalf after that play.” There it goes again, her fingers twitch before she tightly clasp them together on her lap.

“The performance went well. Thankfully nothing like the Geovishap hatchling accident happened so it wasn’t as stressful. I-I did get to talk to the Yuheng, but I’m afraid she didn’t put much trust into my words.” Just as you thought.

Her eyes squint slightly as she stares down at her lap, the little tremble of her lips and crack in her manners surprises you. You didn’t think she would feel this guilty over it.

“The questions she asked me about how or even just proof of your oracle status were troublesome to say the least. I genuinely didn’t have an answer for most of them and the ones I did weren’t very in-depth. I apologize Y/N.”

Placing your hand on her shoulder, your head shakes softly to deny her words. “Don’t worry about it, Yun Jin. I have a chance to personally refute some of the suspicions on me today. Thank you for at least trying, I just have one question.”

A part of you feels bad that you’re unintentionally displaying your frustrations on Yun Jin but not enough to stop you from asking your question. Her shoulders tense under your hand, and her face freezes when she hears your question.

“Did all those questions make you question whether I’m actually the Creator’s oracle?”

You can only force your lips into a smile that threatens to dissolve into a scowl with every fiber of your self-control at her body's reaction.

----------------------

It’s disappointing, you think to yourself, as Yun Jin basically flees the room. The excuses she gave you and topic changes she tried to pull were pathetic, but you weren’t surprised considering how you went straight for the throat. 

Yun Jin was a beast when it came to stage affairs and directing in arts, but there’s little to nothing she has to counter your precise attack. In a way, it’s smart for her to run rather then stand her ground and try to answer. 

Standing up, you stretch your body, enjoying the absence of pain. The sly grin you wear is so much more comfortable than the bitter frown you’ve worn these past few days. Yun Jin was simply a good warm up, a nice way to get back into the ‘Oracle’ headspace you’ve developed.

It didn’t matter if you were their God or the Oracle.

Money, shelter, food, and a sense of security were all you needed in life. That is what you’ve focused on to survive all these years, and Teyvat will be no different. If playing along to the cult’s belief of the Creator being the Almighty guarantees your survival, then you’ll happily do so and benefit from their obsession.

Smiling with renewed vigor, you relax on the bed as the sound of footsteps came closer. The hissing of a snake and the muffled words of a man could be heard steadily arriving. 

If Yun Jin was a warm-up then Baizhu was your practice. Tonight you had to face Ningguang and that required all your skills to be in top shape lest you end up being killed by her hands.

The door swings open without warning as yellow snake eyes and fushia eyes meet your own eyes hidden beneath your mask. Smiling without a care, you call out to the contracted partners.

“Nice to see you again so soon Dr. Baizhu and it’s nice to meet you Changsheng. You’re here for the scar tissue sample and to ask some questions about my background, right? Come in! Just be sure to close the door behind you…”

Still alive, surprisingly… It's hard to believe that my last update on this story was Nov 14. If you want to hear my excuses as to why it takes long, it basically boils down to school, sick, holiday, and family lol. Plus money but when is it done a problem? But I came back and was working on it very slowly throughout all this time! The next update will take long too as finals are till the 22nd. And then the next semester on the 17(?) of Jan so yeah, little to no break. Thanks to my editor who got it done quite fast which is why the chapter is up now, Sunday night or rather early Monday. I hope it gives you all a good start to the week. To actually talk about about the story, I gotta say that it's longer then I thought. There's still a few leftover tasks to complete before Y/N can truly leave. As well as a hint to the overarching threat now that we got this Celestia hint. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and the series! If your name is in italics that means I couldn't tag you for whatever reason. If you are missing from the taglist and I didn't respond to your comment or ask to be added to the taglist, leave a comment here so I can check it. Taglist: Open as always!

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[precious-little-scoundrel]

Fort Dix to Memphis

Summary: Having traveled for 24 hours, hopped two continents and crossed an ocean, little baby Rosalee has no more patience for the endless homecoming interviews and pageantry required of her Daddy’s precious time, time that should be her’s in this strange, loud, American new world. What’s a new father to do when his baby “Schnucki” won’t stop wailing when he leaves her? Why, do the interviews with her in his coat, of course!

Warnings: Fluffy and wholesome as can be, PG, only small upsets may include a woman nursing, a father helping a baby latch while nursing, colonel parker not minding his business and trying to shove Elaine out of the public eye, Journalists being passive aggressive, little children in some distress

Word count: 4k

Requested: yes

Masterlist

Circa: Early Spring, 1960

“I don’t think she’ll settle without nursing.” Elaine really tried to keep the emphaticism out of her voice as she reclined into the rather luxurious bed the sleeper car was furnished with, watching as Elvis paced in the tiny walk between the window and bed, cradling a fussing Rosalee, lights turned down to nearly nothing and her baby cheek pressed to his just like she liked it. She wouldn’t fully go under though, and Elvis was certain she suspected his motive of making her sleep to then slip out and speak to the journalists waiting outside, while Elaine surmised it was an empty belly keeping the sweet dreams away.

Dark Cherry wood paneling and padded headboards that made it easy to lean against and nurse, low lighting that made it feel like something out of the old Hollywood movies, the train car was coziness personified -and of course Elaine had her exhausted children all in a tidy row between her and the vibrating train wall. All but Rosalee.

Colonel Parker had balked at the expense of such a luxury car, an en-suite bathroom, two beds making an L in the room and a little sitting room adjacent through a door, perfect for press and visitors -and play space- on the long trip. Elvis thought it was perfect for his family, and that’s where he and his manager differed. Colonel Parker had been very eager and very full of plans upon meeting the freshly stateside Presley’s. He’d come aboard the plane as soon as it touched down at Fort Dix and stressed the importance of Elvis going off solo.

“Colonel, I’ve got four children outta the womb, and my wife’s only got two hands.” Elvis had pointed out the obvious and that logic had won over the Snow Job’s dream of reintroducing a rehabilitated and unencumbered Memphis Flash back to the American public.

Colonel Parker then had some ideas about various ways to ship Elaine back to the backwater by cattlecar while Elvis did press in the north -alright he didn’t put it like that but it was the essence of his intent, according to Elaine’s shrewd perception, so much so even her father, Mr. Phipps had balked in offense at the obvious intention of shoving Elaine and her growing belly away from public view.

If Elvis Presley wanted to be so besotted with her that he’d give her five children in less than four years, he could damn well walk down a jetway with her. A sentiment her Mopey agreed with, of course he did.

And before much more fuss could be made, Charlie Hodge and good ole Rex Harrison had spent their newly demobilized time procuring the best train car on the line, and they spent a great deal of Elvis’ money to incentivize that train car to go to Memphis instead of Baltimore.

Those were the sorts of logistics, haggling and arrangements that Elaine usually took great interest and responsibility for negotiating, but freshly arrived from a transatlantic flight, three press conferences deep, decently pregnant and toting four children and a jumpy husband, she found herself ceding such tactical responsibilities for the seemingly endless amount of breast-feeding and lullaby singing her jet-lagged infants needed.

To be honest she was exhausted. As was Elvis. And their children. So much traveling and so much interacting and never a quiet moment. If one pair of twins was down the other roused and neither parent had gotten a full hour of uninterrupted sleep in two days. But still, Elaine felt happy with the warmth finally soaking into her as she snuggled beneath down covers with three little heaters tucked beside her, Daisy Mae dozing at her breast.

And she got to watch Elvis pace and coo and take the responsibility of soothing Rosalee very seriously, he always did.

“C’mon Schnucki, daddy ain’t goin’ nowhere far, hims right here, you jus’ lay your pretty lil head down and close those pretty yittle eyes, alright? You just close them eyes and picture a pretty green lawn with lil blankets on it and wildflowers we can pick and I’ll even get you little lambs to jump around and -that’s home Schnuki, we’re gonna be home tomorrow baby. I know, I know s’been so long for daddy too, hims could cry to, I could, I swear I could but it’s happier to think ‘bout bein’ there soon, and if you close your yittle eyes and dream bout them pretty clover flowers, you’ll get there even sooner. Did ya know that, Schnucki? Sleep makes ya time travel, it does, honest, baby. It does. So you just close those lil eyes-“

His low, murmuring babble was so soothing Elaine felt her arm holding Daisy go limp and she nodded off for a breed second before a resumption of Rosalee’s pitiful fussing jarred her again.

“Elvis baby, let’s try nursing.” she whispered gently, snagging his blazer hem on one of his turns along the little path he’d made and keeping him close.

He pulled Rosalee off his shoulder and held her little onesie clad form at arms length, surveying his inconsolable little one. “I dunno, ya look pretty fat Rosy, but I reckon there’s always room for more, hmm? Hmm baby? You wanna snuggle with mama’s titties, hmm? Get you all nice and warm and full of milk.” he stepped closer to the bed and Elaine scooted aside, with some fear of crushing her other children, to give him room to sit beside her, “C’mon Schnucki, go to mama, baby girl, get your tummy full so those rumbly tumbly feelin’s don’t wake ya up.”

Elvis’ large hands laid his little bundle on the breast that Daisy had not just supped from and helped Elaine position Rosalee in the crook of her mama’s elbow. He helped straighten her legs and tipped her on her side and when she kept turning her little head to watch him instead of focusing on the task in hand, Elvis even fed her little mouth the nipple like feeding a dog a treat. He squished her cheeks closed and tugged at Elaine’s bud until the milk came out and at it sprayed on Rosalee’s palette the baby’s eyes finally lit up.

“There we go,” Elvis laughed quietly, “don’t know what’s good for ya yet. Shouldn't doubt me Schnucki, I knows what’s best for hers, yes I do, and I always wants what’s best and I know, I know that look, good ain’t it? S’warm and sweet and so soft for your cheek, mhmm, nothin’ to fight.” he crouched over her for a minute as she latched and vigorously began to suck, much to Elaine’s relief, and he ran his fingers across her poofy baby cheek.

Elvis and Elaine watched her, too tired to make conversation or wish to break the hypnotically cozy spell Elvis’ cajoling nursery talk had lulled them all into. Jesse stretched in his sleep beside Elaine and cracked open an eye, smiling a silly, happy, lax mouthed smile at seeing his daddy still there. Elvis laid his hand on his boy’s chest and the the little guy turned on his side, rolling his body around it for a moment before falling back to sleep.

“God, y'all look so cozy, could break my heart.” Elvis mumbled as he took his hand back from Jesse’s lax hold, his other still supporting Rosalee’s bum as the baby girl would unlatch and search frantically for him whenever his touch left.

“You could stay.” Elaine pointed out the obvious, reaching her hand to swoop up the glorious flip of hair he had grown out. In the dim light, and even the bright sunshine, now that he’d grown out his army cut, it was more obvious than ever where Rosalee got her chestnut locks. “Don’t have to do press tonight.” she thumbed at his under eyes, marveling how a man could look so beautiful and so exhausted all at once.

“Naw naw, they’re waiting.” he jerked his head back at the sitting room and the low hum of the waiting reporter’s voices through the door, “If I do it tonight, won’t have to do it tomorrow and with any luck they’ll hop off on some northerly station and we’ll have a spot of peace ‘fore Memphis.”

“Alright.” she murmured, holding very still as Rosalee had come unlatched, cheek squished to Elaine’s large breast and her breath coming out in steady little puffs. “Do you think she’s gone?” she asked the man who knew her best after a bit of study.

“I-I think, I think so.” he hesitated, peering at her pink eyelids and the lax set of her mouth.

“She’s gone very limp.” Elaine remarked.

“Here I’ll try takin’ my hand back a-and if that works I’ll wait a minute and get up.” he suggested, slowly pulling his hand away from his infant's body with all the slow precision of a man dismantling a bomb.

Both hands clutched to his chest, Elvis and Elaine watched to see if baby so much as twitched but 48 hours of traveling seemed to catch up with their Rosalee and she didn’t move a muscle. Elvis carefully snagged a pillow and brought it under Elaine’s arm now she was holding all the weight and she carefully snuggled into a position she could maintain without moving for however long the press conference took.

“You alright mamas?” he asked her as he gravely reviewed his precautions for her comfort.

“I’m perfect.” she whispered, pursing her lips and he leaned over her gently, pressing his forehead to her mouth as he knew she wanted. “Oh I’ve stained you.” she lamented, the faded remnants of her lipstick having transferred to his golden face.

He snickered softly and rose from the bed with as little motion as he could, using those strong thighs of his to leverage straight up without a bounce and when he was successful in not waking the Schnucki Monster he went into the en-suite bathroom and reviewed the pale kiss mark above his brow. It was barely noticeable and rather affectingly situated, like a pretty stamp above his more mobile eyebrow.

As Elvis stared at it his heart twisted with a burning loyalty for the woman in bed with his five children while the Colonel’s words ricocheted in his mind until he found himself emphatically redoing his lashes with more than a moderate coat of mascara and after a moment's hesitation, he opened Elaine’s matching toilette bag and took from it today’s shade of coral. Unscrewing the gold cap he pondered it for a moment before leaning into the mirror and gently dabbing it onto the places where her kiss mark failed to make an outline. He was cautious not to overdo it, pulling back to review his entire face and take in the effect.

He had no desire to make her favor look garish, but neither did he want it unnoticed. He looked rather like one of last war’s recruiting posters, white smile, long hair, fresh face with a big smooch printed thereon.

He knew all these press conferences weren’t just about his career. They were according to his manager but for Elvis, he knew he was coming back to a rather different place than he left, social change and an upcoming election had galvanized folks into a sorta mood Elvis hadn’t had the chance to gauge for himself. And in it he wanted to find his footing again, not just as a star but as somebody who could do good. And he couldn’t do nothing without Laney, whatever Parker said, and poor Laney had suffered enough, been put through the American press for her pretty figure and affectionate ways.

And for daring to love him so well.

It wasn’t just his image. It was hers too, that he was re-introducing, and as such he was introducing the parents of his children, going out there to talk about movies was only the side issue, he had the Presley reputation to establish. Tired as he was, Elvis didn’t feel daunted by it, he felt energized and revved up at the prospect of such momentous responsibilities and he snapped the lid on Laney’s lipstick with an emphatic snap of his thumb.

Elvis liked the ‘loved on’ look. He’d never pretended he didn’t with his fan’s love and he wouldn’t with his wife’s.

He exited the bathroom and upon seeing Elaine as dead asleep sitting up in bed as the rest of the babies, he tiptoed out of the cozy space and cracked open the door, squeezing out and shutting it gently, much to the amusement and chuckling cooperation of the reporters waiting outside.

“Whole crew’s sleepin’ in there, gotta stay quiet, man. How’re y’all doing?” he asked them, basking in the colder air that whistled through the cracked window and took his seat on one of the benches, splitting a smile as a camera flash whited out his vision.

It had been near twenty minutes when Elaine was roused from the dead and dreamless sleep she’d fallen into by the shift of Rosalee’s sweaty little head on her chest. She increased the calming pressure of her hand on the little girl’s back and held very still, hoping it was a gesture in sleep. It wasn’t. Soon after she began to root around and whimper, upon waking up enough to notice soft feminine flesh beneath her cheek she began to fully cry, endangering the rest of the others. Elaine promptly untangled herself and stood up, walking away from the others, pacing by the door, trying to hush her poor infant.

“-besides those three films lined up I-I-I really d-don’t have plans, no, I-I-“ Elvis paused in his answer as the sound of crying came from the inner room. He knew which baby it was and his heart clenched.

“Oops!” one of the reporters snickered, a sympathetic father who knew how annoying it could be to have a baby crying all night, keeping a guy up and the wife not able to make it hush.

“I-I uh…” Elvis tried to go on but the cries increased and while it wouldn’t disturb the journalists or even be perceptible on the recordings, he couldn’t bear it. “If you’ll excuse me, gentleman.” he apologized as he rose, determined and unabashed as he crossed across the train car and wove through the pack of reporters back to the suite door.

“Oh darling I’m sorry.” Laney gushed as he slipped in and cast a wary glance at the stirring children left in the bed.

“Don’t be.” he told her sharply and didn’t even ask for the baby, just took her out of Elaine’s arms with surety and sushed her with his familiar hums. “Ain’t no reason to be apart, we’ll just buddy up for this, huh Schnucki?” he murmured and Elaine’s eyes went wide.

“You’re going to do press with -a child?” It wasn’t an image anyone in Hollywood or even politics really tried to create, the family man leading man wasn’t really a seller at the box office or in the gossip column. Not unless he had affairs and regularly got redeemed by famous children, she supposed the Fairbanks might yet prove role models.

“I’m gonna hold my baby while they ask me questions.” he framed it with a pointed look and placed a kiss of his own on Elaine's forehead, “Now I can’t keep ‘em waiting. Go get warm, go, move that cute lil butt, go, shoo!” he swatted her nighty clad backside until she had the covers up to her chin again and Ella tucked into her side. It wasn’t till he had turned back and headed out the door that Elaine gasped in recognition of the kiss mark.

The chattering greetings of the journalists upon his re-emergence quieted as soon as they noticed the bundle in his arms as he stepped back through their ranks to his seat. Sitting with all the nonchalant confidence of a king as he tucked his pacified child into the crook of his elbow and patted her bottom rhythmically with a bejeweled hand. Those who had once lingered around him on tour, chasing him down backstage to snatch sound bites and headliner quotes over the scream of women and the edgy young performers' preoccupation with kissing and winking at every passing female were astounded by the change.

Bob Gary, one of the reporters who had covered his stardom since the hayride and had the pleasure of meeting Miss Gladys, god rest her, was a little less astounded than others that her wild boy had in him the makings of a lovely young man. Bob always thought Elvis was respectful and always got a sense of goodness when around Elvis. It made sense Elvis would set his mind to good fatherhood and perform its functions with as little shame as he felt when moving to his music. “Now who do we have here?” Bob asked kindly after the quiet room got a little too absurd even by journalistic standards.

“We’ve got a pretty little lady joining us, gentleman, this is Rosalee Presley, prefers to be called Schnuki but maybe not by you strange men. Heh.” Elvis proclaimed his sniveling baby’s chosen name proudly and jostled her mopey self a little, only succeeding in making her pout further into his jacket but the tears had ceased. “All this travelin’ has been doin’ their heads in, man, my poor babies. So, you mustn’t mistake her whinin’ as personality, ya see she’s been a very stable baby, hasn’t ever been outside Germany, ‘cept for a trip to Paris, and now she’s across the whole ocean. That’s a heap of miles for a yittle itty-bitty thang like her, you understand gentleman? So as I was sayin’, my lil daughter’s most congenial, most nights, gonna have to forgive her tonight*

Bob Gary laughed as did a few of the press who were equally lost on the topic but eager to return to their questions. “Why can’t her mother calm her?” one fellow asked benignly and Elvis squinted at him, jaw tickling before he smoothed his face and shrugged:

“My wife’s jugglin’ four kids in there, includin’ the one cookin and she does a remarkable job.'' Perhaps Elvis said it sharper than he meant to, but Bob Gary licked his pencil stub and got to writing, paper didn’t convey tone unless the writer mentioned it. “A-a-and see, me and my Rosalee,” the young father went on, “we’re the same, two peas in a pod. I’m the same when she ain’t around, get all mopey and the like. I do man, I do. Got my own lil wooby here, uhuh. What? Oh ha! Sure sure, call it that. Emotional crutch, whatever man I-I-I -all I know is I-I need her, man. What? You ain’t ever wanted to hang out with your kid? They’re a heap of fun man, don’t talk over ya neither.”

“Can we see her face, Elvis?” Asked one hopeful with his camera at the ready.

Elvis thoughtfully prodded Rosalee’s pink cheek but the little girl was always shy of crowds, worse yet when they were masculine ones and despite Elvis’ little pokes his baby only burrowed deeper, as if aware of his query and answering it with a wriggle that buried her face beneath his jacket’s lapel.

“Aww man, I think she’s too shy for that.” Elvis decided, carefully tucking her further in, her chubby little legs, two dangling feet and the back of her reddish head the only visible parts of her. “Now I don’t want y’all thinkin’ this is her usual personality, -all the travellin’s been rough on her.”

“I bet it’s hard on all the kids.”

“I-i-it’s challenging, sure.” Elvis nodded, running a soothing hand up her sweaty back, “But we’re headed home. Gonna be right as rain, soon as we get to Memphis, I just know it. Ya know these last two, they were born in Germany! Ain’t ever been home yet, they’re restless for it.”

That seemed a bit improbable for a bunch of city slickers who considered home to be a vague notion of rented flats and let rooms and so one asked:

“__Mr. Presley, you’ve quite the large family now, uh, how old is your daughter? Hard to keep up.“

“She’s not yet one.”

“—And your wife’s already expecting again, correct?“

“Yessir she is.” Elvis nodded soberly and he felt little Rosalee begin to forget her bashfulness and twist herself a little so she could play with the rings on his left hand.

“Does the growth of your family surprise you? It certainly surprised the rest of the nation. Do you have any regrets?“

Elvis thought about the adoring bundle in his arms who gave him all the terrifyingly unconditional trust he always wanted to be saddled with and stuttered out a reply after clearing his throat, “Well uh, no sir, not really. My wife she -she was on me like a duck on a junebug, sir, right away like. And uh, I saw it as my peace keepin’ duty to keep her peaceful, ya see? Heh. So, so anyways, we’ve got all these kids now and I find them mighty precious. They’re the most special things I’ve ever had. I-I- didn’t-what we had gentleman, when we married -it weren’t no great romance, see, it were rather like the reasons our parents married. Course I love her now but we’re intentional and this is what we wanted. She’s made what coulda been some of the darkest years of my life, well she -she’s made them the best. Awww yeah you too Schnucki, yesss, of course hers too.” he trailed off with a coo as Rosalee raised her face to watch him, learning by his tone that he was talking about mama.

“—What do you expect for your little family, what with you gone to work on the movie contracts Colonel Parker has lined up for you?“

“Oh well, they’re comin’ with me, ain’t no question of that. Whole family I-I-I gotta have ‘em. They’re not a favorite pillowcase you can leave behind. Colonel Parker says the trailer ain’t big enough but he forgets they’re lil still, we all fit in a single bed. Sleep that way most nights, they’re all yittle still. And I need ‘em. They’ll be with me.”

“What’s Miss Rosalee think about seeing palm trees, huh?” the same hopeful as before, this time with his damn camera lowered, took the liberty of grabbing at one of her little feet, intending to wag it playfully but Miss Rosalee let out a wounded cry of disbelief and climbed up her father’s chest with the alacrity of a hunted koala.

Elvis tried to moderate his voice when he cautioned the young journalist, “She don’t wanna be touched, man, please don’t.” but nothing could temper the cool blue flame of his eyes at the guy’s presumption. “Hey, hey hers ok, yes hers is.” he whispered to his baby and slowly brought her down into his lap, a curled little dough ball in a soft pink onesie. “Here Schnucki, curl in baby, have at it.”

He opened his jacket wide and exposed a soft sweater beneath his blazer, dark red and with a deep neckline, he’d bought it for the cowl neck he liked for shielding from the wintry gusts and hiding his chicken neck from photographers. Rosalee likes the way it warms her up and tickles her nose, she burrows her face into his chest so fast it’s comical and the guys laughed as did Elvis gently, all while he closed his blazer back around her little body and gathered up her one vulnerable outlier in his large hands - her little footsies.

“I dunno what y’all are laughin’ at.” Elvis pretended ignorance, crooked grin about ready to split his face, “There ain’t nothin’ here, man, nothin’!” he protested as the guys wheezed in amusement over the tiny, frizzy shock of chestnut hair sticking out the top of his buttoned coat. “Now’re you fools gonna ask me about formula brands or hollywood, hmm?”

The next thirty minutes passed uneventfully, for Rosalee at least. It was warm and damp in daddy’s jacket, against his chest and she could feel the thoughtful rumble of his answers buzzing her right cheek. When he was done she felt a little whoosh of flight as he stood up but she was safe, his arm kept her anchored to him and the buttons cocooning her near his chest held up. She had been oblivious to the nervous way her daddy sweated when he dodged answering about who he’d vote for in the coming election but she had felt when he had tensed at a question about her parents’ taped phone call. She raised a clammy hand out the top of his jacket and patted his jaw till he had laughed. The press laughed too. He never answered that question after all. Rosalee smiled a proud baby smile against his sweater.

All Miss Rosalee knew was daddy laughed and then he calmed and his chest rumbled some more then there was a whoosh and the jostling of him shaking hands and soon he was walking, she could feel the bounce of his gait. “We fooled them, didn’t we Schnucki.” she heard him whisper down into the jacket.

The soft click of the door. Mama was near.

And soon, Rosalee felt a chilly little gust as the inferno was opened and the faint lights of the bedroom suite crept in as daddy unbuttoned his jacket and gently laid her down next to mama on the bed before stripping out of his clothes. Mama lay on her side in the bed and deftly slipped the lacy strap of her nighty off her shoulder, gently cupping Rosalee’s head to her breast, hoping for cooperation.

Without preamble or hesitation the little girl latched on for her midnight snack.

Elvis was slipping in beside them, tucked in with Rosalee between himself and Elaine, when his pretty wife chuckled in disbelief.

“What is it baby?” he asked, whopped from all the diplomacy and melting like butter on pancakes at the mere proximity to his little tribe.

“You smart little lady,” Elaine murmursd to Rosalee in admiration, “you know your daddy isn’t leaving anymore and now you want to eat, huh?”

Elvis grinned with half his pretty face smashed into the pillow, trying in vain to stay awake to watch one of his favorite activities under the sun -his wife feeding his babies from her own body. His eyes began to droop anyway and he found himself jolting periodically, having drifted off.

The third time he awoke like this he felt Laney’s cool fingers gently tugging his eyelids down, smudging the mascara but soothing him, “Night, night mopey, you can go now, she’s gone, too.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. Xoxo 💋

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[grimreapersnuisance]

Guy Needs A Nap -- Short Writing

I finished my last class of the morning section with a sigh of relief. The stress was palpable now that exam season was around the corner. I dropped my books onto my desk and loosened the top two buttons of my blouse for some comfort. I had an hour before my next class started, enough time to breathe, feed my familiar, and practice a few spells. I set to filling Robin's bowl with milk from the refectory and left some tuna on a plate for him. Just as I was about to open my textbook, there was a sharp knock at the door. I opened it to see Jasper, Guy's handler, standing there with his brow furrowed.

"Um… hi. What can I do for you, Jasper?" I ask with caution. I've never seen Jasper distressed like this before.

"Would you mind giving me a hand with Master Guy? He is… shall I say restless."

I blinked with surprise. I wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't that.

"Sure. Just lead the way."

I follow Jasper up to the S-Rank dorms, a familiar route to Guy's room. He opens the door cordially and lets me inside.

"Master Guy is in his room." He gestures to the closed door to my right. I nod before heading over, I can hear footsteps pacing on the other side. I knock gently on the wood.

"Guy?" I call earnestly. The pacing stops and there is a moment of silence when I believe he will simply ignore me. He doesn't. The knob turns and the door opens to reveal Guy standing there in his casual attire. His shirt is half unbuttoned, his hair is jostled, his eyes have dark circles underneath them. He looked so unlike the stern, neat, commanding prince that I had come to love. My face softened.

"Guy… what's wrong?" I ask gently.

"Nothing. Dismiss yourself." He turned away and ran a hand through his hair roughly.

"So, that's how his hair got so messy," I think to myself.

"If I was in the same state, you wouldn't leave," I respond sternly, but not aggressively. He was stubborn, but not close to my level. If stubbornness was a class, I would be S-Rank.

Guy looks at me, but doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to; it's enough of an invitation for me. I close the door behind me as I enter his bedroom. I approach him and examine him with my eyes before reaching up to cup his cheek gently. Much to my surprise, he leans in to my hand.

"Guy, please, tell me what's wrong. When was the last time you've slept? Or eaten?"

"Couple days." He mumbles the response so quietly that I barely heard it. I furrow my brows with worry.

"Why?" I try to understand what's got him in so out of character. He doesn't respond, of course. I will have to pry the answer out of him, or figure it out through investigation.

I accept that our conversation has ended and pull him towards the bed.

"What are you doing?" He doesn't fight me, but he looks displeased.

"You need rest. If you won't do it on your own, then I'll force you," I respond matter-of-factly. He frowns, but doesn't stop me from easing him down onto the bed with me. I propped myself up slightly on some pillows and rested his head against my stomach. I carded my fingers through his slightly tangled, but silky, hair and hummed some tune I remembered from the radio. Guy acted displeased, but his exhaustion won and he began to relax. His eyelids drooped and he fell asleep.

Sure, I missed the rest of my classes that day, but I could think up some excuse.  Magical food poisoning or whatnot. What mattered at the moment was Guy's soft, calm face as he slept with his head in my lap. I've never seen a sweeter sight.

Bonus: Jasper's PoV

I knock lightly on the bedroom door with a tray of food and tea, no red coffee for Master Guy today. Hearing no response, I opened it and let out a small hum of surprise when I found Master Guy and his potential paramour asleep. The prince was lying curled up against her like a cat, his head in her lap. Meanwhile the young lady was comfortably snoozing with her back against the headboard in a half-seated position, her hand settled in Master Guy's hair. I quietly closed the door and set the tray in the sitting room, assuring that I wouldn't disturb their wholesome slumber.

[pxppet]

Prodrome. (Part 2)

Teeth AU Chapter 2.

Some things fall apart; some things fall back in place.

CW: distress, major grief, flashback, physical abuse mention, abuse between brothers, sexual behaviour, drinking/alcohol, fight/argument, anger, meltdown, illness mention, death mention, coma mention

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

Jameson can hear them fussing. Jackie carried him back home, and Jameson could hear him apologise endlessly, hear him cry. Jameson could hear Henrik being called and he could hear him rush into the house only 30 minutes later, having dropped his shift.

"Jameson," Henrik calls. Jameson tries to turn to him, but it's like there is a great wall erected and his brain can no longer command his limbs to move. He's stuck in the exact position Jackie laid him down in. "JJ?" Henrik's voice is a question, shaking.

"Schneep? What… what's wrong with him? He just froze up. I can move him, but he won't move or do anything on his own." Jackie is trembling, unable to fix it and hating that fact. "Is it like- like a shutdown?"

Henrik, for all his iciness, seems frozen. He licks his lips. Jameson's last check up showed everything going well physically, so this seems to be mental. Waxy, stiff, unresponsive. Catatonia? But Jameson wasn't psychotic or showing symptoms. Jameson is about 20-24, and he's certainly been in enough stress…

Henrik lets out a sigh. "Jackie, it… might be something called a 'catatonic episode'. Obviously he needs psych exams to tell, but nothing physical has been out of the ordinary. We just have to wait to see what he does now."

"I want you to fix it."

"Jackie, I… can't."

"You're Jack's doctor." Jackie is crying again. Like a stupid baby. "You're his doctor and you're supposed to fix us, you need to fix him!"

"Jackie," Henrik takes his arm and wipes at his face. "It's not a physical thing. It is mental, mental illness."

"Not fair, no, we stopped him hurting, I saved him!"

"Jackie, long-term stress has certain effects on-"

Jameson listens to their conversation fade as they step in the hallway. He can't get his thoughts straight, but he can feel them as a sensation. Frozen and numbed, Jameson senses the mix of rage and terror and guilt twisting in his stomach.

About 15 minutes later - a total of 50 minutes - Jameson lets out a heavy shuddering sigh. His arms slowly release, the wall torn down, and he can move them. Jackie, tucked in a ball in the corner, is up like a shot at the sight of movement. "Jamie?! Jamie can you move now, can you hear me?!"

"Calm," Jameson signs.

"Wha'?"

"Calm, calm big. Hate. Hate hate hate hate." He repeats the sign like a stim. He's so exhausted, he can't process anything that's happened today. His face relaxes from its scrunch, and he sits up. "…Juice," he demands.

"Juice? Um. Yeah bud, I can get you juice." Jackie takes only one step to the door. Looks back. He can't let himself leave. "Hey Schneep!" Jackie calls loudly

"Did he wake up, is everything okay?!"

"Yeah, uh. Can you get him juice?"

"Juice?" Henrik shouts. "Why can't you get the juice?"

Jackie looks back at Jameson, laying against the headboard with eyes closed. Pale and weak and sick little Jameson. "Schneep, please?"

Henrik grumbles loudly, but does it. He comes into the room and sets a cold glass of orange juice on the nightstand, sitting on the bed. "How do you feel, my patient?"

Jameson peeks open an eye. "Tired."

He's just laying there then, with a sudden tensing of muscles, his eyes fill with anger. "Get out," he signs violently. "Hate this, hate you." He shoves Henrik away. Friends. His friends. Let himself feel- feel safe here, when they had his brother, his big brother, buried in the woods like a pet dog. "Get out!"

Jackie and Henrik share a look. "Okay, we can go. Just be safe, maybe sleep a little." Henrik smiles tightly, and they leave, shutting the door. Jackie sits on the floor right outside, head in his hands.

Jameson feels hot, ugly tears on his face. He pictures Anti wiping them away. He realises he has no memory of him doing so. He's sobbing, face buried against his fists in anger and betrayal and grief and hurt, hurt, hurt. They killed him. They killed his master. But they've been so kind, so nice and attentive and-! Oh god, Anti. Soft blankets and soft shining lights. A gravelly chuckle against him. Fingers through his hair and loving black eyes. Safety. Grinning pointed teeth- Teeth in his neck. File on his teeth. fingers yank his hair. Insectoid eyes on a face covered in his blood, Jameson's blood.

He weeps for all that Anti is and isn't; all that he was and was not. Is it like a slave? Chase's words echo inside him. A chain is around his neck. Anti is tugging him out of his box by his hair and hitting because he didn't want to kill someone. Constant bruises that Anti would force him to cover so he couldn't see what he'd done.

It never stops, it never ends. Unfair unfair, my brother I called you my brother. You were all I had, how could you leave me? I'll kill them for this- They saved and healed me. They took you from me. They've been so kind.

Jameson cries and griefs until he's so tired he sleeps as soon as he slumps to the pillow. Outside the door, Jackie sits guard all night, to convince himself Jameson feels safe.

--

Marvin is laughing. It feels like they haven't laughed in so long. Jace is pressed against them, kissing their neck, drunk and consumed in the back of a shitty bar. Marvin purrs in their throat. "Taste of beer wasn't enough for you, beetle?"

"Mmmh, I just need something with more flavour, flower," he teases, slurring, mouth pressed under their jaw. Marvin laughs, whiskey on their breath. They sigh and press onto him until the two's weight is all that keep each other up. Marvin is moving their lips to press onto his when there's a shout.

"Ma-" cut off by music. Marvin peeks up.

"Marvin! Marvin, hey!"

They unclasp from Jace and look up. They see red - literally. Jackie a few feet back, avoiding people and wide-eyed. Marvin growls and pats Jace's shoulder, letting go completely. Jace smiles and rubs his face, knowing some chaos is going to follow. They stomp over to Jackie and cover his ears to the music, nearly dragging him outside by his head.

"What?" They hiss, emphasising the T.

"I'm bringing you home! You're being impulsive and I know it's because you're upse-"

"JACKIE." They scream it so loud a smoker near the door startles. Jackie freezes, eyebrows shooting up. "I need space! I'm sorry I've been a dick, I know, but I need to be away right now! I need a damn break, I need to forget about Jack for a while or I'm going to keep being a dick!"

"You can't just forget about all this, Jameson is really sick and things keep happening and- and I- He told me to get out of his room!" Jackie is shaking. "I showed him Anti's grave and he made me leave and he was crying- He froze up for almost an hour and Schneep said something is wrong with his brain!"

"Jackie, I'm not coming home." Marvin has softened their voice in the face of Jackie's distress and sensory overload. "I need time, I can't be okay if I'm around that boy. I'm fine, just-"

"Well I'm not!" Jackie slaps his own skull and Marvin jumps. "I'm not okay Marvin! I'm fucking up over and over and I'm useless and stupid and- I can't fix it! I can't save anyone because none of you want me!"

Marvin's heart pangs and they stare with wide pupils. "Jackie, who said that to you? What? Of course we do!"

"I couldn't fix Jack and he could die any time, I can't fix how angry you are, I couldn't fix Anti and make him feel better and he wouldn't stop hurting us because I failed him! I'm- I'm a failure, I killed him and still failed." Jackie sinks to the sidewalk and covers his head, panting. "I've never saved any of you."

Marvin's jaw is hanging open, one hand out towards Jackie, helpless. They're always so helpless. "Jackie… This isn't about me, is it? It's… all of it. Too much, but you won't leave. Like I did." Marvin kneels and, like they always do, puts pressure on Jackie by hugging him close. "When… When we found that boy so sick and looking almost dead, in a cage, in the same outfit as Anti and just… suffering. Jackie I think that fucked us both up a little bit."

Jackie shivers under them. "He looked dead. He looked like all of us but dead."

"I know," Marvin whispers, small.

"I th.. I thought it was too late, and Anti had killed him before we even knew about him."

"I did too. He was so pale but all red and blue-lipped. And I just saw… Jack, sick and comatose and near-dead."

Jackie nods, hugging them back in a vice grip.

"Uh, ye boys okay?" A bouncer has walked over, having seen their distress. "Need me to call someone?"

'No, we're okay," Marvin ignores the sting of 'boys.' "Just some family troubles."

"Ahh," the man rubs his chin. "I can get ye each a lite beer, on the house. Only tonight, don't come back beggin' for another."

"Jacksie? Feel okay enough for a drink?"

"Um, sure- But can it be out here?"

Marvin brings their drinks out, kisses Jace goodbye.

They bring the cooled cans over to the bench Jackie found to get off the concrete. The two clink cans, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder through this and everything to come; and they forgive each other wordlessly as the morning hours break.

[varunnehra]

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[indiatrendzs]

Vintage Indian Carved Barn Doors

We are thrilled to introduce our exquisite collection of unique custom barn doors, each a masterpiece in its own right and designed to add unparalleled charm and character to any space. At the heart of this collection lies the Hand-Carved Vintage Krishna Wall Art with Fluting Krishna and Cow, a timeless depiction of eternal harmony and divine grace. Facebook @mogulinteriorr Follow us on…

[mogulinterior]

Furniture should combine comfort with coastal charm. Look for pieces with clean lines and natural finishes. Slipcovered sofas, distressed wood tables, and wicker chairs are all excellent choices. Sandy-hued armoires and vintage-style cabinets can add both storage and style to your space. Soft, breathable fabrics like cotton and linen are perfect for coastal farmhouse interiors, ideal for upholstery, curtains, and throw pillows. Mix in some textured pieces, like chunky knit blankets or woven baskets, to add depth and interest.

Accessorize with coastal-inspired decor to complete the look. Lotus carved ceilings or headboards with himts of blue, nautical motifs such as anchors, ropes, and ship wheels can add a subtle maritime touch. Rustic antique garden doors and weathered lanterns enhance the farmhouse feel. http://www.mogulgallery.etsy.com

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[iphone15prokkk]

King Size Bed Frame Styles: From Traditional to Modern

The bed frame is not just a functional piece of furniture; it's also a focal point that can set the tone for the entire bedroom. When it comes to king size bed frames, there is a wide range of styles to choose from, each with its unique aesthetic appeal and design features. Whether you prefer the classic elegance of traditional styles or the sleek simplicity of modern designs, there's a king size bed frame to suit every taste and preference. In this blog post, we'll explore a variety of king size bed frame styles, from timeless classics to contemporary innovations, to help you find the perfect frame for your bedroom.

Traditional King Size Bed Frames : Traditional king size bed frames are characterized by their ornate details, rich finishes, and classic design elements. These frames often feature intricate carvings, decorative moldings, and elegant curves that evoke a sense of old-world charm and sophistication. Wood is a popular material for traditional bed frames, with options ranging from dark mahogany to warm cherry to light oak. Canopy beds, sleigh beds, and four-poster beds are iconic examples of traditional king size bed frames, adding a touch of grandeur and romance to any bedroom.

Transitional King Size Bed Frames : Transitional king size bed frames blend elements of traditional and contemporary styles, creating a versatile and timeless look that suits a variety of decor preferences. These frames often feature clean lines, simple silhouettes, and subtle decorative accents that offer a modern twist on classic designs. Wood and metal are common materials for transitional bed frames, with finishes ranging from espresso to brushed nickel to antique bronze. Upholstered headboards and footboards with tufted detailing or nailhead trim are popular choices for adding texture and visual interest to transitional king size bed frames.

Contemporary King Size Bed Frames : Contemporary king size bed frames are characterized by their sleek, minimalist design and emphasis on functionality and simplicity. These frames often feature clean lines, geometric shapes, and smooth surfaces that create a sense of openness and space in the bedroom. Metal, glass, and lacquered wood are common materials for contemporary bed frames, with finishes ranging from matte black to glossy white to brushed stainless steel. Platform beds, low-profile designs, and floating frames are popular options for contemporary king size bed frames, offering a modern aesthetic and maximizing floor space in the bedroom.

Mid-Century Modern King Size Bed Frames : Mid-century modern king size bed frames draw inspiration from the design aesthetics of the 1950s and 1960s, featuring clean lines, organic shapes, and minimalist forms. These frames often showcase natural wood finishes, tapered legs, and retro-inspired details that exude a sense of timeless elegance and sophistication. Teak, walnut, and oak are popular materials for mid-century modern bed frames, with finishes ranging from warm honey to rich walnut to blonde oak. Platform beds with low-profile frames and angled legs are iconic examples of mid-century modern design, offering a sleek and stylish look that's perfect for contemporary bedrooms.

Industrial King Size Bed Frames : Industrial king size bed frames embrace the raw, rugged aesthetic of urban loft living, featuring exposed metal hardware, distressed finishes, and reclaimed materials. These frames often showcase sturdy construction, rough-hewn textures, and utilitarian details that evoke a sense of industrial chic. Metal, wood, and concrete are common materials for industrial bed frames, with finishes ranging from weathered iron to distressed wood to polished concrete. Platform beds with metal frames, pipe-style headboards, and salvaged wood accents are characteristic of industrial design, adding a rustic yet sophisticated vibe to any bedroom.

Conclusion : Whether you prefer the timeless elegance of traditional styles, the sleek simplicity of contemporary designs, or the rustic charm of industrial aesthetics, there's a king size bed frame to suit every taste and preference. From ornate carvings and rich finishes to clean lines and minimalist forms, king size bed frames offer a wide range of options to complement any decor style. By exploring different styles and materials, you can find the perfect bed frame to create a stylish and inviting bedroom sanctuary that reflects your unique personality and aesthetic sensibility.

[decorworks]

The Elegant Art of Wall Paneling Design

The Elegant Art of Wall Paneling DesignWall paneling is having a modern revival in home design. Not just for cabins or rustic settings anymore, sleek wood paneling used tastefully can lend sophistication and warmth to any room. From entryways to living rooms to bedrooms, there are endless paneling possibilities to enhance your space.

Design FlexibilityOne beauty of wall paneling is its versatility. You can install full coverage wood panels or use panels strategically to highlight architectural details. Frame windows, crown molding or built-ins for visual interest. Play with panel heights for varied aesthetics, like chair railings dividing walls. Stagger or alternately space boards for layered depth. Plus, panels easily disguise imperfect walls while adding character.

Material OpulenceThe right materials elevate any paneling scheme. Rich hardwoods like walnut, reclaimed barn wood or rustic knotty pine create luxe ambiance. For high traffic areas, low maintenance engineered wood holds up well. Vintage salvaged boards imbue vintage charm. And innovative composite options like fiberboard mimic real wood flawlessly at a fraction of the price. Choose materials tailored to your style and budget.

Styles GaloreEndless paneling patterns and profiles await. Traditional tongue and groove boards create formal lines. Horizontal plank panels feel beachy and relaxed. Vertical board and batten divisions look modern. Mitered edges around doorways make a statement. Distressed, painted or mixed material panels add eclectic edge. Play with styles to complement your interiors or introduce unexpected contrast.

Beyond DecorBeyond aesthetics, panels serve functional purposes. Sturdy panels insulate and buffer noise between rooms. Molding hideaway shelves, recessed nooks and built-ins inside panels maximize storage solutions. Clever millwork installations incorporate paneling as architectural focal points or decorative headboards. Transform any wall into a designated space from home office to reading nook.

Proper InstallationFor paneling to remain a statement piece for years, quality carpentry and installation matter most. Ensure square layouts with leveled walls and plumb surfaces. Strategize panel orientation and placement to best disguise imperfections. Seal, stain, paint or lacquer finishes for longevity. Let wall paneling designs showcase your personal style with enduring beauty and elegance. DecorWorks showcases the latest trends and tips in home decor and interior design to inspire your best life. We curate architecture and design inspiration for global audiences, and show you practical tips to create any imaginable space.  Read the full article

[homeimprovementway]

DIY Headboard Wood: Transform Your Bedroom with These Stylish Wood Headboard Ideas

Diy Headboard Wood - Tips and ideas for creating a unique and stylish wooden headboard for your bed. Discover step-by-step instructions, design inspirations, and different wood options for a personalized touch. A headboard made of wood can add warmth and character to your bedroom, while also being an affordable and creative DIY project. Whether you prefer a rustic, modern, or farmhouse style, there are endless possibilities for designing a stunning headboard that reflects your personal taste and fits your budget. So, grab your tools, get creative, and transform your bedroom with a beautiful wooden headboard that you can proudly say you made yourself.

Credit: www.goodhousekeeping.com

Choosing The Right Wood

Choosing the right wood for your DIY headboard is essential to create a beautiful and durable piece that complements your bedroom decor. The type of wood you select will not only determine the overall aesthetic of your headboard but also its longevity and functionality. In this section, we will discuss the factors to consider when choosing the right wood for your DIY headboard project. Consider Your Bedroom Decor Before you select the type of wood for your headboard, take a moment to consider your bedroom decor. Think about the existing color scheme, style, and overall ambiance of your bedroom. Understanding your decor will help you choose a wood that harmonizes with the rest of your furniture and enhances the overall visual appeal. Selecting The Right Type Of Wood When it comes to selecting the right type of wood for your DIY headboard, there are various options available, each with its own unique characteristics and benefits. To help you make an informed decision, let's explore some popular wood options: Wood Type Characteristics Benefits Reclaimed Wood Carries a weathered and rustic look due to previous use Environmentally friendly and adds character to your bedroom Solid Oak Durable and exhibits a natural grain pattern Long-lasting and adds a touch of elegance to your bedroom Pine Lightweight and easy to work with Affordable and versatile, allowing for various finishing options Maple Hardwood with a smooth and consistent grain Offers a sleek and modern look to your bedroom When selecting the type of wood, consider factors such as the level of maintenance required, the hardness of the wood, and your personal taste. Remember, the right wood can make all the difference in creating a headboard that not only looks amazing but also stands the test of time.

Classic Wood Headboard Designs

Classic wood headboard designs bring a timeless and elegant touch to any bedroom. With their warm and natural appeal, these headboards add a touch of rustic charm and sophistication that can transform your sleeping space into a cozy retreat.Rustic Plank HeadboardOne of the most popular classic wood headboard designs is the rustic plank headboard. Made from reclaimed or distressed wood, this style exudes a sense of authenticity and organic beauty. The rough texture and uneven grain of the wood give the headboard a rustic and weathered look that complements various decor styles, ranging from farmhouse to industrial.With its simple and straightforward design, the rustic plank headboard adds character and charm to any bedroom. Whether you prefer a light, natural finish or a darker stain, this headboard choice will create a focal point that effortlessly incorporates nature's beauty into your sleeping space.Barn Door HeadboardAnother classic wood headboard design that is gaining popularity is the barn door headboard. Inspired by the charm of old barn doors, this style combines both functionality and style. With its sliding door mechanism, you can easily adjust the position of the headboard or completely close it for a more intimate and cozy ambiance.Barn door headboards offer a versatile design element that can be customized to fit your personal style. Whether you prefer a distressed and weathered appearance or a sleek and modern finish, this headboard design allows you to create a unique and personalized look for your bedroom.Additionally, barn door headboards are not only visually appealing but also practical. The sliding mechanism allows for easy access to storage space behind the headboard, making it an excellent choice for those who need extra storage in their bedrooms.Classic wood headboard designs like the rustic plank headboard and the barn door headboard offer a timeless and elegant touch to any bedroom. With their natural beauty and versatility, these headboards are sure to create a cozy and inviting atmosphere that you will love coming home to every night.

Modern Wood Headboard Designs

Modern Wood Headboard Designs When it comes to creating a stylish and inviting bedroom, a modern wood headboard can be the perfect focal point. With sleek lines and timeless appeal, these headboards can instantly elevate the look of any bedroom. Whether you prefer a minimalist geometric design or the rustic charm of reclaimed wood, there are numerous options to suit your taste and style. Geometric Wood Headboard A geometric wood headboard can add a touch of modern elegance to your bedroom. The clean lines and angular patterns create a contemporary look that complements a wide range of interior design styles. This type of headboard often features bold shapes and asymmetrical designs, making it a standout piece in any bedroom. Sleek Reclaimed Wood Panel Headboard If you're drawn to the warmth and character of reclaimed wood, a sleek panel headboard might be the perfect choice for your modern bedroom. The natural grain and texture of reclaimed wood bring a cozy yet sophisticated feel to the space. This type of headboard is versatile and can effortlessly blend with both modern and rustic decor styles.

Diy Wood Headboard Construction

Constructing a DIY wood headboard can add a touch of warmth and character to any bedroom. By gathering the necessary tools and materials, measuring and cutting the wood, and assembling the pieces, you can create a unique and personalized headboard that reflects your personal style and adds a charming focal point to your space. Measuring And Cutting The Wood To begin, measure the dimensions of your bed to determine the size of the headboard. Next, use a saw to cut the wood according to the measurements for the headboard. Ensure all cuts are precise and smooth to avoid any jagged edges that may cause injury. Assembling The Headboard First, lay out the cut wood pieces on a flat surface to check for alignment and fit. Then, using wood glue and screws, join the pieces together to form the headboard structure. Secure all connections tightly to prevent any wobbling or instability in the headboard.

Staining And Finishing Techniques

Choosing The Right Stain ColorConsider various wood stains to match your decor and personal style.Sealing And Protecting The WoodApply a sealer after staining to protect the wood from damage.

Credit: www.bhg.com

Credit: www.architecturaldigest.com

Frequently Asked Questions For Diy Headboard Wood

What Wood To Use For Diy Headboard? Choose a sturdy wood like pine, birch, or oak for your DIY headboard. These woods are durable and easy to work with. Ensure the wood is smooth and free from knots for a polished finish. Is It Cheaper To Make Your Own Headboard? Yes, making your own headboard can be cheaper. DIY headboards save costs since you avoid purchasing pre-made ones. It also allows customization and creativity in design, giving you a unique piece at a lower price. How Much Is It To Make A Wooden Headboard? The cost of making a wooden headboard varies based on size, design, and materials used. Generally, it can range from $100 to $500 for a DIY project, or $300 to $1000 for a custom-made headboard by a professional. Factors such as labor and additional features can also affect the price. How To Make A Wooden Queen Headboard? To make a wooden queen headboard, measure and cut the wood to size, assemble using screws, sand down rough edges, and finish with paint or stain for a polished look.

Conclusion

DIY wood headboards are a fantastic way to add personality and warmth to your bedroom. With various design options and simple construction, anyone can create a customized headboard to fit their style. Whether it’s rustic, modern, or traditional, a DIY wood headboard is a versatile and budget-friendly addition to any bedroom. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6UxCikGMdCo Read the full article