#when i tell yall i've had this in my head since october | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pjisskullourful · 5 months

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in honour of this happening at my gig(its for me, save your breath telling me it aint cos it is! they were in the same building as me. damithan supremacy is fucking real) imma post a little overdue something

my rainbow family halloween fic never came together, i had a cute idea but sometimes the fic dont fic. but yall can have the first 1k+ of what i did write, which includes a little secret i've been keeping from yall for the throuples future. please enjoy, i wish october had been nicer to me so i could have gotten this fic finished for yall

With nothing but Britney Spears to hear as you styled the long blonde wig, it almost felt like old times. You were reminded of spending a huge chunk of your paycheck on new wigs and spending practically every Saturday night at a live music venue, standing for hours in the most uncomfortable shoes known to man. You remembered the extra concentration that had been put into styling the wig that you wore to surprise your boyfriends with your debut (and only) performance in drag.

The illusion of nostalgia was being routinely interrupted by your baby bump getting in your way. At thirty-three weeks pregnant, your movements had to be adjusted from the typical. That kept you from getting entirely lost in memories, along with the blinking baby monitor set up on your desk.

This wasn’t your first time working on this wig, you had been at it with the hairspray and curling iron many times during the course of this month. And it was almost perfect, almost ready to go atop Damiano’s head to complete his Lestat costume. For this year’s iteration of Victoria and René's famous Halloween parties, your boyfriends were dressing to match one another. They were channelling the leads from 1994’s Interview with the Vampire, with Ethan taking on Brad Pitt’s Louis.

You were going as one of their victims, with prosthetic, gory wounds ready to be glued to your body. The 1800’s dance-style dress you planned to wear would accommodate your tummy, as well as fitting the theme since you had gone at it with scissors and dark red paint.

You were interrupted from your work by the sound of your family returning home. Damiano, Ethan and the three kids were back from their excursion to a local pumpkin patch. You unplugged the curling iron, leaving it on the heat-resistant pad before easing yourself onto your feet. You collected the baby monitor before leaving the room, ready for the moment when Bowie awoke from his nap.

When you got downstairs you followed the voices of Ethan and Marsha, finding them in the family room. They were standing at the crafting table, which was currently dominated by the largest real-life pumpkin you had ever seen - it appeared to be three times the size of your head.

“You don’t think his name is Patrick?” He was asking of your daughter.

“No, that’s the name of the starfishies.” She replied, speaking as if this rule of hers was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right, well maybe this is a girl, a girl named Paula.”

She looked at the giant vegetable with her eyes narrowed, carefully studying it with this new information. Ultimately, she decided her dad was speaking the truth and nodded her head. “Paula the pumpkin.”

“That’s the most Paula-looking pumpkin I’ve ever seen.” You contributed your opinion as you walked closer to them.

“Hi Mama. Do you like the pumpkin Cosmo picked? I helped.” She said, perked up with pride.

“You guys did an amazing job.” You said. “You don’t need to keep that heavy jacket on now that you’re inside, Miss Thing.”

She fumbled with the combination of zipper and buttons on her winter coat. But she succeeded without assistance and pulled the garment off, handing it to you straight away.

“How about you go check if Papa needs any help making lunch?” Ethan suggested.

She left for the kitchen and you turned to look at your boyfriend, a displeased look on your face when you began to speak. “You got the smallest one they had, eh?”

“The kids picked it. What was I supposed to do- tell them that they picked wrong?” He asked.

“You’re supposed to redirect them.” You said. “Come on, we talked about this and we all agreed- no more pumpkins bigger than Moe. They’re gonna drive us nuts, asking every day for it to be moved around the veranda, or from the front veranda to the back, then the opposite.”

“I know, but you should have seen how excited he was, he was planning out all the cool things he would have space to add. I didn’t have the heart to stifle his creativity.” He said, clearly trying to win you over with his sweetness.

“You let my children run wild, Ethan.” You attempted to maintain your stern tone.

The expression on his face changed as he switched to the tactic of distracting you. “You smell like hairspray, have you been working on the wig again? I would love to see the progress.”

“Yeah, I bet you would.” You said sarcastically.

Before he could continue his facade, everything was interrupted by your son’s crying coming through the speaker you held. Bowie had woken up, providing Ethan with a great distraction.

He grabbed the baby monitor before you had a chance to react. “I’ve got him.” Swiftly he was disappearing out of the room and up the staircase.

You gave the large pumpkin another look. You were glad that this year you had an excuse to count you out of the three kids' consistent redecorating ideas. It got very tedious trying to keep up with them deciding, then re-evaluating the perfect spot for the heavy decoration.

By the time Ethan came into the kitchen with Bowie the toddler had stopped crying. You were sitting with the rest of your kids along the island, everyone enjoying their own serving of scrambled eggs. Damiano was making sure each child had the drink they wanted.

“He’s okay.” Ethan said of Bowie, who was looking around the room with bright eyes. “He just wanted us to know that he’s awake.” Ethan tapped him on his tiny nose.

The kids had been told that their crafting would begin once lunch was finished, prompting them to start asking as soon as Sylvia’s plate was cleared. They were made to wait until everybody was done, with Ethan the last one eating. He purposefully took smaller and slower bites, earning him theatrical groans from the three eldest.

Damiano took care of tidying up, leaving you and Ethan to get the various crafts prepared. For Cosmo’s pumpkin carving, Ethan laid some sheets from the newspaper onto the floor. The twins were easy to organise, they would be taking their textas to print-outs of pumpkins to be hung up in the windows. You picked out the pots of face-paint that had been purchased for you to help Bowie turn your pregnant belly into a festive pumpkin. You had some old towels on hand for the mess that was certainly coming your way.

He eagerly took one of the paintbrushes that you offered, once you were seated somewhat-comfortably on the floor. Your son turned away from you, uninterested in what you were doing at present. Wobbly steps took him over to where his siblings were gathered, around and on top of the newspaper in anticipation of Ethan bringing the pumpkin over.

“Hey Dada, what’s my star sign?” Cosmo asked, the horoscope section catching his eye.

Once Ethan answered this, the girls wanted to know theirs. This led to Ethan reading out the two horoscopes, which were peppered with words the kids didn’t understand, his explanations slowing the whole process down. Sylvia got bored first, leaving for the table where all of the colouring supplies were set up.

He and Cosmo were still drawing out their ideas on the pumpkin when Damiano came into the room. You were using a marker to create a guide for the painting on your skin while Bowie gave each of the brushes careful check-overs (some of the handles required a taste test). The twins were making the most progress, their markers quickly moving across the pages, their focus secured. Damiano checked that you didn’t need any assistance before stationing himself with the girls.

You wiped the handles of one of the brushes on the towel before dipping it into the orange paint. “Are you ready to paint, baby Bowie?”

He raised his brush into the air. “Pah.”

“Uh-huh.” You said. “You wanna help Mama paint this section, right here in the centre of her belly?”

He had a serious look on his face as he scooted closer to you, apparently ready to concentrate on the craft. You handed your brush to him and he took a long look at the thick orange liquid on the bristles. You feared that he would touch it to his face, or worse, try to eat it.

But he proved his skills, applying the bristles to the taut skin of your tummy. The paint felt slimy on your skin as he worked the brush up-and-down, seeming to understand that this was somewhat similar to when he painted at his baby easel. You were unbothered when some of his brush strokes partially went over your outline of an eye.

“Wow, that looks so good already.” You enthused.

He nodded his head as he accepted from you the alternate brush dipped in paint. “Good.”

He wasn’t the most gentle as he made contact with your skin, applying the paint over on your side. There was a method to how he worked, spreading the orange further across your tummy. There had been many attempts at trying to get him excited over the fact that you were growing a brand new baby in there. It was hard to tell how much he absorbed this information, but what you really cared about was that he was enjoying decorating your large belly.

“Okay, now push with your elbow until the blade of the knife goes all the way in.” Ethan instructed as he held his hand over Cosmo’s on the serrated knife.

Cosmo wore a look of great concentration, his brow furrowed as he sucked on his upper lip. He moved the knife carefully, pushing until more than the pointed tip disappeared into the real pumpkin. Ethan held the vegetable steady with his other hand as Cosmo kept working the knife in.

While colouring with the twins, Damiano had found a doll-sized cowboy hat. It was quite common to come across misplaced pieces of toys around your home, so he didn’t bother to question it. He balanced the tiny hat on the tip of his index finger, absentmindedly keeping it elevated.

This caught Bowie’s eye, taking his attention away from painting. He got to his feet and you had just enough time to take the messy brush off of him before he wandered away. He went directly over to his dad, reaching for his arm.

“Hey, little man.” Damiano enthusiastically greeted him.

“Hat.” Bowie said.

“Oh, is this yours?” Damiano asked, offering the small hat to him. “Are you a cowboy?” Damiano placed the miniature accessory atop Bowie’s head, towards the centre where it could be somewhat steady. Immediately he was giggling, not needing to see his reflection to find this funny. “It looks really terrific on you. It must be your hat because it suits you so well.”

Bowie whipped around to face you, the hat slipping off of his hair in the process. Damiano quickly remedied this, holding Bowie still with a hand on his shoulder until the hat was back in place.

#damithan is more real than the moon landing #damithan supremacy #rainbow family headcanons #avida would have this photo as her lockscreen

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