#Home Louvre Windows

[shuttermanuk]

Here at ShutterMan, we are a shutter company offering shutter products such as fitted interior window shutters, plantation shutters, white shutters, shutter installation, solid panel shutters, shutters for patio doors, home security shutters, wooden shutters, PVC waterproof shutters, and made to measure wooden shutters to clients throughout Uckfield and the surrounding areas of East Sussex.

Please call us today if you require additional information about our shutter products. We're always on hand to take your call, answer any questions and deal with any enquiries you may have.

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Phone Number: 01825760722

Business Hours: Monday - Friday: 09:00 AM - 06:00 PM Saturday: 10:00 AM - 02:00 PM Sunday: Closed

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[windowanddoorinstallation]

Types of Glasses Used By Window Suppliers in Windows Installations

A very vital part of our windows and doors is the glass installed in them. The goal of window suppliers Sydney is to ensure that only the highest quality glass is installed, and for this, they consider several factors. The type of glass installed in these installations would be determined based on the weather in your area, the building design, the building material and the size and configuration of your installations. In today's post, we go through the most common types of glasses used throughout Australia and their exciting features.

Common Glass Types and Window Configurations Annealed Glass or Float Glass

Windows manufacturers nationwide rely upon this glass the most, as it is readily available. It can be used in different windows, and it is called 'annealing' due to the process used to cool the glass during production. It is known for its excellence in cutting noise pollution, and an important thing is that it is a non-heat-treated glass. This makes it the least durable glass used in window installations.

Toughened Glass

This glass is manufactured using a process where panes are heated in a certain way that makes them more substantial than all other types. It is commonly used in window solutions, frameless doors, and glass pool fences. Upon breaking, this glass shatters into tiny chunks rather than big heavy pieces that can cause injury to anyone. Due to this pattern, they are safer and also more popular.

Laminated Glass

Windows manufacturers use this glass in situations where safety is the top consideration. According to window suppliers, this glass offers the highest level of acoustic performance and has a huge role in reducing noise pollution from outside. Laminated glass is given a thin plastic layer between two pieces of glass.

Low Emissivity or Low-E Glass

This glass is very beneficial in preventing the sun's heat from escaping into your room. It can rebound these sun rays from the outside and stop them from entering our homes. Low-E glass used by Bay window suppliers Sydney or available in two types - low-E hard coat and low-E soft coat.

Low-E hard coat glass is known for its robustness, and low-E soft coat glass is known for its better energy efficiency.

[libraford]

My Facebook is split between outrage that the Olympics opening ceremony would mock The Last Supper and nerds saying 'it's the Feast of Dionysus, you uncultured swine.' And I'm somewhere in the middle thinking about the likelihood that Bellosio referenced DaVinci when he painted Banquet of the Gods, and the possibility that DaVinci was also drawing inspiration from previous works. And yes, The Last Supper is not hanging in the Louvre but Banquet of the Gods is but France is extremely Catholic and home to one of the most recognizable cathedrals, and that it is common for such cathedrals to have depictions of The Last Supper in stained glass windows regardless of where the church is located. And that 'mocking this religious art' doesn't seem quite in the spirit so much as reconteztualizing BOTH reference pieces to keep it them both alive and dear god- do you have any idea how pleased DaVinci would be to know that his piece was used as inspiration for a major drag piece- as someone who was rumored often to pose in drag for his own paintings? And that Bellosio would be so pleased to see his art come alive in this way- loudly, colorful, and public?

Art is not created in a vacuum, but contains multitudes. It is possible to hold two truths, and also many more.

[martyrlamb]

✶  let the light in  /  leon kennedy

pairing:  leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary:  early mornings are hard and leon loves you.

tags:  sfw, fluff, a bit of angst when leon thinks about his life, no use of y/n, complete self indulgence i want to wake up next to him, cuddling, kissing, established relationship, any time period leon!!, leon being clingy and adorbs, leon is absolutely whipped for you

note:  ummm title based off the lana song. it’s so waking up and being all soft and cuddly in bed with ur s/o coded and i know leon is so clingy on the mornings he has off so that’s what i wrote :P enjoy

word count: 1.3k

He’s used to sleepless nights and early mornings.

Been used to them. Leon lived in a group home, kids got loud before breakfast—incessant laughter and whines of hunger he couldn’t tune out by smothering his ears in the fabric of his pillow. Training had a rigid schedule he couldn’t get past even if he tried. 

Falling asleep was harder than it looked, and he spent most nights staring at the back of his eyelids wishing he could fade away from consciousness. Every creak of the floorboards made him jolt and the wind that whistled through a crack in the window frame produced cold, clammy hands. 

When he did float off to dreamland, he usually didn’t last very long. 

The last few hairs on his dad’s head. A string of pearls snapped on the floor. His mom’s manicured hand, stained with blood. Every set of eyes he’s ever known going dull. Losing himself. Desperately—desperately holding onto something solid for dear life. It’s all there, and it plays over like freeze frames of a movie.

He pretends it doesn’t stick. There are no bad dreams he’s startled himself awake from, he doesn’t shake like the alley strays in the middle of winter under his blankets, his skin is not damp with sweat.

He knows the routine when he wakes up: lie there until he isn’t allowed anymore. Only, when he opens his eyes all heavy and groggy, unable to shake the itchy sleep deprivation from his tear ducts, he’s with you.

You, with that peaceful expression of yours while your head rests against the pillow. Your chest rises and falls in soft hills under the bit of blanket Leon hadn’t managed to steal during the night. He traces the bridge of your nose with the shadow of his finger; he thinks about counting the number of eyelashes that ring your pretty eyes so he never forgets the shape.

It’s tooth-achingly sappy, and it makes him feel like that giddy kid late for his first day as a police officer again. A little brighter, a little more saturated. Before he saw the worst parts of the world—at least on mornings like these.

Between work and the general hustle and bustle of life, he doesn’t get many of them. A crime, if you ask him.

Sunlight filters through the crack in the curtains that you picked out. It’s peering over the horizon and it beats down in streams on the bed and makes a silhouette of your face. You’re backlit like something angelic. God, he’s getting poetic but he can’t help it; you’re you and you’re in his life, so yeah, it’s innate in every way possible.

He takes it in: the birds chittering through the screen of the window that you always leave open an inch, the squeak of the old fan he pulled from storage as it oscillates, your warm skin against his. Leon’s room isn’t very picturesque (your doing; when he started seeing you, your things began to crop up everywhere and now they’re strewn about the apartment alternating: yours, his, yours, his.), but he thinks this morning could be put in the Louvre.

You stir in your sleep and Leon goes still, watching your breathing as it speeds up. He doesn’t want it to end yet.

Okay. Leon might be the villain for this, but he rolls right back over, partially on top of you, and puts his head on your chest with one of his arms draped over your stomach. When he hears the gentle thrum of your heartbeat, he shuts his eyes and pretends to sleep. 

Words that fade to nothing escape your mouth in a sigh as you squint yourself awake. He can picture the face you’re making right now: all bleary-eyed and softly disgruntled, the slight furrow of your brows as you regain consciousness. He’s seen it a thousand times, and he’s going to see it a million more if fate wills it. 

You struggle under his weight to check your phone and he can tell you’re moving as slow as possible so you don’t wake him. Something about no good deed going unpunished—he’s not planning on going anywhere anytime soon even if he could for the sake of your mobility. 

When you place your phone on the nightstand again, it’s a bit more aggressive, a bit rougher, and you grumble. Must be work. Your fingertips creep up and palm at Leon’s hair gently, an attempt to coax him awake that doesn’t work. His breathing stills, and he listens to you whisper his name sweetly into his ear.

“I know you’re up, Leon,” you mumble finally, he can hear the smile in your voice.

Damn, caught. He doesn’t budge. 

You continue, stroking his hair with one hand snaked behind his head. “I have to go to work.”

With his gig up, he merely buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales like it would somehow attach you to him. The hairs on his arms rise when he catches the smell of your shampoo. You giggle and squirm under him from the sensation. His name falls from your lips in a playful complaint, dragging out the last syllable. 

Leon can feel the vibration of your throat and he smiles against your skin. Shhh… he thinks when he peppers kisses along your collarbone. You’re ticklish under his feather-light arsenal and you laugh, grabbing the sides of his face to tilt his head up slightly to look at you. Your hands are soft and warm and he could probably draw out your fingerprints from memory by now, but he still relishes the feeling like he’ll forget at any moment.

“I have to go,” you insist, your thumb strokes circles on his cheek when he starts on your waist. There’s no real urgency in your tone.

He groans and lets his head fall forward, forehead against your chin. “No.”

“You don’t know how much I want to stay.” Your reply is wistful; considerate—he’s got you right where he wants you.

“Then stay,” he mutters quietly, and he looks up, glancing at you through his lashes. Bingo. He watches your persistence dissolve on your tongue. 

“What about work?”

“Call in sick.”

You hum in response, a cute little tone that means nothing in the long run. Your mind is already made up, Leon can see it in your eyes, but you like to pretend to put up a fight for responsibility’s sake. 

“Oh, fine,” you finally reply and snatch your phone from the nightstand. It only takes a few minutes for you to finish tapping on the tiny keys and when you do, you discard it and rake your fingers through Leon’s hair.

The sensation of your nails against his scalp sends goosebumps down each column of his spine and he shuts his eyes, leaning his head on your shoulder. You simper when you say, “You’re a terrible influence.”

“I’ve been told.” It comes out more like a sigh.

You press a kiss to the crown of his head, a small, loving movement that might have brought him to tears a few years ago. It was so plain and domestic, a type of subtle affection he’d never had the privilege of experiencing until he met you. He thought it wasn’t real for the longest time, something of romance novels and shitty rom-coms, but you made it so easy. You made everything so easy.

He wraps his other arm around your waist and rolls both of you over, him on his back and you on top of him. You laugh his name, tangled in a mess of blankets and limbs as you wrap your arms around his neck. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, now, and he hopes it feels the same for you as it did to him. 

A ray of sun beats against his eyelids, enveloping the darkness in an obnoxious white light. Bah. Leon can’t even find it in himself to complain; he loves you. He’s in this bed, and you’re in this bed and he loves you so much he can’t think of anything else. 

[cypressvs]

CRACKS IN BLACKOUT BLINDS PT. 1

pairing: childe/gn!reader, diluc/gn!reader, zhongli/gn!reader (separate)

cw: (all) established sexual relationships, kind of toxic college romance au, usage of an unspecified hole, it's a little sad before it becomes very horny, (childe) childhood friends to lovers, long distance relationship, college parties, alcohol, public sex, cunnilingus/rimming, creampie, unprotected sex, riding, (diluc) exes to fwb to lovers, body worship, implied m!masturbation, biting, marking, p!penetration, multiple rounds, (zhongli) p!penetration, grinding, implied ddlg relationship, reader is unhealthily dependent to zhongli and zhongli encourages it

wc: 1.3k, 400~ each | join the taglist

minors do not interact

CHILDE is too much and too little at the same time. Summertime of '12, and he's sneaking into your room and helping you get out of your house through your window when you shouldn't be anything but asleep. He's laughing wildly as he tugs you by the wrist, running the streets of your childhood place that you and he rule over. It's the simpler days when all you have to worry about is helping him finish the Lego set his mother bought him in a neighborhood garage sale. Sometimes you look back and you miss it and you regret that you grew up and that you allowed him to kiss you goodbye at the bus stop—on the lips and certainly not the friendly kind with mumbled promises of how he'll call and it's only four years and nothing will change. You regret believing his promises and visiting him at his dorm a few towns over and letting him drag you by the wrist like when you were kids as you crash a college party. You knew no one but knowing no one was the best because it's easy to disappear in the crowd of dancing bodies and half-crazy drunks. The red plastic cup that got handed to you was suddenly heavier and not even Childe's tongue licking and circling over your hole as you leaned your head back at the bathroom's tiled wall was enough to forget it. This isn't your world. This isn't the streets you once reigned. This wasn't you and him in a disillusioned childhood game. You let the alcohol slide down your throat, a burning tracing over your insides that makes your cry out of both pain and pleasure. There's a needy moan resting on your tongue and you shove it into his mouth as you dragged him up by his hair. There's a fucked out smile on his face when you part and he's suddenly rubbing the tip of his cock over your needy hole. You leave the party that night more sober than you are drunk, returned home the next day more worn and tired than when you left and missing the warmth of his cum inside you. Three months later and this time it was his turn to come to your place and he climbs up your room through the window like when you were kids but this time, you don't let him take you places. You grip him by his collar and lead him to a sloppy kiss, more teeth and tongue like you were once again inexperienced teenagers but you're rutting and grinding at each other like the horny college kids you were. It's messy but inside of the walls of your childhood home, in the familiar white noise of your childhood streets, you are at home. This is your world. This is where you rule and as you sink into his cock, all was right once again.

Sweet, tender DILUC once loved like a tourist in the Louvre and you—eighteen and no different from a cherub taking its first flight in uni—were a gilded masterpiece hung on the museum's walls. He observes, perceives, admires but never crosses the boundaries that separated life from art. He reaches out but pulls back; an unrivaled emotional constipation that could not be healed by heated touches on your bare skin and messy pants uttered to your swollen lips like a prayer. Sweet, tender Diluc broke your heart when you were eighteen in your messy room that still smelled like the afterglow of sex. Years later, you meet him again in the dark, eyes finding each other despite the sweaty bodies that grinded and mingled under neon lights. He's gone weary and tired from whatever success he found outside of your mundane college days but he still looks at you the same. You were a masterpiece, and as you lay under him to add onto your mighty list of drunken mistakes, you realize that Diluc loves the same—only now as he traced over the scars and bumps that he remembers too well to be considered innocent, you think that he's outgrown the running and the chasing, maturing into a curator that could only love you more and more as time goes on. His scarred hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs as he bites and sucks at your skin. You shouldn't have let him, he was just another passing face for your lonely nights and had no right to possess you after all these years but as he pumps into your hole with groaned out professions in reverie, art spills into life and you start to crave once more the sweet and tender and innocent bliss of being so adored that it scares you and him both. It's scary how you let him take your phone the day after, how you let him punch no longer familiar numbers into it once again, how you picked up your clothes only to drop them as he fucks you against his vanity. However, above all things, it's the scariest how you're all too eager to let him, ringing him up every Fridays for a supposed to be quick fuck that always ends with philosophical pillowtalk and unfunny jokes from you and adoring smiles from him, and cooking him breakfast every Saturdays before shooing him off with a "come back soon" instead of whatever you're supposed to be saying to no strings attached fuck buddies.

ZHONGLI is—and as boring and overused the term was nowadays—an old soul. He prefers his drinks darker and mostly bitter, only having aftertones of sweetness that were never inauthentic to the source material. He likes old bands and vinyls and hand-me-down books that were littered with annotations of the soul from a random stranger he'd never come across again in his lifetime. He passes his classes with ease as if he's learned the lessons over and over again. Essentially, he exudes a maturity and sense of responsibility that makes you shrink on yourself. Whether he's sliding his hands down your arms as he looked over your shoulder to supervise your essay-writing or when he's holding your thighs open in bed as he pumped his thick cock into you with the slow and deep cadence he favors, Zhongli makes it hard to stay true to your childish, irrational wishes. You stopped buying candies because sugar is bad for you; stopped going to arcades because what's the point? There's an unspoken expectation that you need to fulfill, a silent pressure that holds you hostage at the face of encroaching adulthood. If Zhongli can, why can't you? If Zhongli is, why aren't you? He never says anything, only taking whatever it is from your hand and doing it for you. He means well but it always leaves you hanging on the deep end where the contrast of how big he is in comparison to how little you were in this similarly larger than life world. You've talked to him about it—briefly and not quite what you would've said in hindsight after you replayed the conversation in your head over and over again—but he had only chuckled in that deep, 80s charm and drawl that he always does when he found you endearing. He said he doesn't mind, maybe even prefers it when you cling to him and seek him for the minute details. Lives for it even when you whimper as his throbbing member turned you brainless, your walls wrapping and subconsciously remembering his shape and how good he makes you feel as he grinds against your pelvis. He never fails to give you that stare, dark and indecipherable but he tells you that you've been good and that you shouldn't worry about anything else because you have him to rely on and who are you to question that when all the young souls you've been with never made you feel as good as Zhongli did? You don't think being so small was so bad if it meant being tenderly taken care of by him.

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[sequinsmile-x]

A Few of My Favourite Things

It's Emily's birthday, and Aaron and Jack seize the opportunity to right some of the wrongs of the past.

-x-

Hi besties,

Nearly four years into my Hotchniss writing career and I finally get to write one of 'those' ao3 author notes.

I know it hasn't been *that* long since I posted a fic, but 5 days is probably the longest it's been without me posting for a couple of years. I had (planned) surgery on one of my lungs on Friday and only got home from the hospital yesterday. I'm still recovering and will be for a few weeks, but I've been working on this on and off for a few days because I always write something for their birthdays <3

I'll absolutely still be posting - writing keeps my mind alive - but probably not quite as often as we're all used to whilst my body remembers how to...breathe properly hahaha

Anyway, here's a belated birthday fic for Emily based on an anon I got <3

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: None, just super super fluffy

Words: 3.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Emmy, can I ask you something?” 

She smiles as she looks at Jack, nodding as she sits up to make room for him on the couch, her book already closed and on the coffee table by the time he joins her so he has her full attention. Aaron was still at work, kept behind by paperwork and reports, and she’d offered to pick Jack up from Jessica’s and take him home. Aaron had smiled gratefully at her, his eyes shining with everything he couldn’t say to her whilst they were at work. He glanced towards the window of his office to ensure no one was watching before he stamped a quick kiss against her lips, a tiny moment of them lingering between them before they returned to the professionalism they held as dear as they did their relationship. 

It was a fine line they’d walked for months now, the 8 months since their first date some of the best of her life, and she knew eventually they’d have to stop. That as they moved further into this, as they took every next inevitable, wonderful, step into officially living together and marriage and kids, working together would no longer be practical. The blind eye that Strauss and the higher-ups had granted them so far would go away, any prentice of willful ignorance gone with by them submitting an address change form, or the existence of a marriage certificate. 

She knew realistically it would be her who would leave the BAU, and she was content with it. If it hadn’t been for Aaron, and by extension Jack, and the love and happiness they’d brought to her life she’s sure she would have left the BAU, and potentially DC, anyway. That she’d have taken the first offer that got her out of here, no matter how far away it took her, because she needed to be who she was now without people looking at her and mourning who she once was. Aaron had helped her through it, had helped her help herself more than anything else, and she finally felt at peace. Like she had a home for the first time in her life, only it wasn’t made out of bricks and mortar but a man, who she would have once called stern, with a dimpled smile that made her stomach flip every time, and his little boy. 

She loved Jack so much that it scared her sometimes. At first, she’d doubted her place in his life, never wanting to overstep, the gap his mother had left behind was not one she wanted anyone to think she was trying to fill, but as time went on she got more comfortable with it all. She cared less about what other people may think because it worked for them. She was the one Jack would seek out if he was sick or sad, his face pressed against her neck as she soothed him with soft words, gentle kisses and fierce hugs. He’d bring her paintings he’d done at school with a proud smile as he presented them to her and she’d react as if they should be hung in the Louvre. She loved him, and he loved her, and that was enough. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that when she and Aaron had more children she wouldn’t love them any differently to how she loved him. 

He’d taught her that she could be a mom, even if he never ended up calling her that. 

“Of course you can, sweet boy. You can ask me anything, you know that,” she says, patting the couch as he joins her, her smile getting wider as he sits next to her and huddles against her side as if on instinct, “Is everything okay?” 

He sighs as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulder, “I don’t know what I want to do for my birthday.”

She has to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing, never wanting him to think she was making fun of him, “Your birthday is meant to be fun, kiddo. Let’s think about it together,” she pushes his hair from his forehead and then drops a kiss there before she encourages him further into her embrace, “Have you had any ideas at all?” 

He half shrugs against her, “I know I want Daddy’s chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.” 

She hums and rests her cheek against the top of his head, “The best birthday breakfast ever.” 

“And it would be fun to go to the park. And maybe the arcade?” He muses, his fingers idly playing with the delicate chain of her bracelet, something she’d rarely taken off of her wrist since Aaron gave it to her one date night just because, “I just want to spend the day with you and Daddy.” 

Her cheeks ache with the smile that spreads across her face, love for him so overwhelming it briefly makes it hard to breathe, “Well, you’ll get that no matter what we do.” 

It’s a promise she knows she can keep because they’d booked two weeks off work so they’d be off for both Jack’s and her birthday, a positive side effect of Strauss’s recent ‘use it or lose it’ policy when it came to the team's leave. Aaron and Emily both had so many vacation days left she’s sure they could have taken a month off and still had time to spare, but they’d settle on this for now, both of them silently agreeing they’d keep the rest banked until the honeymoon they both knew was somewhere not too far away on the horizon. 

Jack pulls away and looks up at her, his head tilted slightly to the side, his eyes full of curiosity, “What did you used to do on your birthday?” 

“When I was your age?” She asks, something that gets her a nod in response, and she suppresses a sad sigh, “My mom would take me out to eat at a nice restaurant if she wasn’t busy with work.” She runs her fingers through his hair, smiling when it flops back down immediately, partially covering his horrified expression. 

“She never took you to the park and pushed you on the swings? Or went to the arcade with you?” 

She smiles at that, internally laughing at the image of her mother in an arcade, the red soles of her Louboutins sticking to the soda-covered vinyl floor as her daughter tries to win enough tickets to get a stuffed cat from the prize stand. It wasn’t something Emily had ever really thought about all that much before. Her birthdays had consisted of over the top gifts and very little time with her mother. Any meal they did go out for was in a restaurant designed for adults - fancy dishes created to be paired with wine, nothing for a little girl who wanted pizza, chicken nuggets and ice cream until she fell asleep. 

It briefly makes her sad, familiar sorrow for the younger version of herself flickering in her gut, and she promises herself Jack and any siblings he would one day have would never have to feel this way. 

“No, sweetie,” she says, “She didn’t, but we’re talking about your birthday,” she says, diverting the conversation back to him, tickling his stomach to draw a laugh about him, “Chocolate chip pancakes, the park, the arcade…anything else?” 

He furrows his brow and pauses, deep in thought for a moment, before his eyes go bright and he looks at her, “Ice cream.” 

She laughs and nods, tugging him back into a hug, “Ice cream sounds perfect.”

___

The first thing she notices when she wakes up is the smell of pancakes. The second is the sound of Jack giggling followed by Aaron shushing him, his voice low as he tries to stay quiet. 

“We need to be quiet, buddy.” 

“But we’re about to wake her up anyway.” 

She decides to take pity on her boyfriend when she hears his exasperated spy, not that she’s sure she could hide that she’s awake much longer anyway, her smile wide and sleepy as she half presses it into his pillow, and she opens her eyes. 

“Lucky for the two of you, I’m already awake,” she says as she sits up, her smile getting wider at the sight of them - matching grins on their faces and splatters of flour in their hair and on their cheeks. She looks at the tray in Aaron’s hands with a huge stack of pancakes on it and a cup of coffee, and then back up at her boyfriend, “What’s all this?” 

“Happy birthday, Emily!” They say in unison as Jack scrambles onto the bed, throwing himself into her arms, an embrace she returns just as fiercely. 

“Thank you,” she replies, stamping a kiss against his forehead before she turns to Aaron who is now sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to hand her the tray. She gratefully takes it from him and rests it over her and Jack’s laps and cups Aaron’s cheek, tugging him in for a kiss, keeping him in place, chasing the taste of batter and him before he pulls back, “Thank you too.” 

He smiles and kisses her quickly, “You’re welcome sweetheart,” he winks at her as he sits back so she has access to the tray, “They’re your favourite.” 

She looks down at the pancakes, her smile getting impossibly wider when she realises they are heart-shaped, and she chuckles when she sees the scattering of chocolate throughout them, “Chocolate chip!” 

“The best birthday breakfast ever,” Jack says, repeating something she’d said to him weeks ago when he was agonising over what to do for his birthday. They’d ended up doing everything he’d wanted, and he’d fallen asleep on the couch that night as they watched his favourite movie, happy and content and safe between them. 

She hums and leans down to kiss his forehead, “Well, there are a lot of pancakes here,” she smiles up at Aaron, “I think you boys are going to have to help me.” 

Aaron chuckles and reaches for one of the forks on the tray, “Why do you think we brought three forks up here?” 

She laughs and shakes her head at him as he cuts through the soft pancakes with the side of the fork. She leans forward to eat the first bite when he offers his fork to her, and she smiles, “You’ve got it all planned out.” 

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he says, winking again, “We’ve got the whole day planned out, don’t we Jack?” 

Jack nods enthusiastically, half a pancake in his hands, his fork already abandoned entirely, “We do!” 

She narrows her eyes playfully, “You two are lucky I trust you.” 

Aaron kisses her cheek, and then the corner of her lips, “Eat your pancakes, Em. All will be revealed.” 

After they’ve had breakfast, Aaron insists he’ll clean the kitchen, ignoring their usual rule that if one of them cooked the other cleaned up, and he encourages her towards the shower. He joins her when he’s done in the kitchen, his hands on her hips as he pulls her back under the stream of hot water, whispering he’d distracted Jack with a video game to buy them 30 minutes before he kisses her. 

They give her gifts, a framed photo of the three of them from Jack and a necklace from Aaron to match her bracelet, and cards with beautiful things written in them that almost make her cry. Aaron’s warm and comforting hand on her thigh, a gentle squeeze through the material of her jeans, is the only thing that keeps her together. They tell her it’s time to go and she doesn’t even care where they are going because she feels warm and loved and just happy to be with them. Aaron insists they all wear jackets, a hint that wherever they are going they’d be outside, and they get into the car. It’s when they are just over halfway there she realises they are going to the park, a journey they’d made only five days ago for Jack’s birthday, and she smiles curiously at her boyfriend, reaching over the centre console to reach for his hand, his eyes giving nothing away when he turns to look at her. 

When they are a safe distance away from the parking lot, Emily and Aaron walking hand in hand just a few paces behind Jack, the little boy takes off at a run, “I’m going to go save the swings for us.” 

“Jack, be careful,” Aaron says, “Make sure-”

“I stay where you can see me, I know,” Jack says, rolling his eyes at his father and the warning he always gave him. Aaron chuckles as Jack continues to run towards the swings and he shakes his head lovingly. 

“You know, he never used to do that before you,” he says, squeezing her hand, his smile getting wider when she laughs and looks at him, her eyebrow raised, her smile diminishing any attempt to pretend she was annoyed. 

“So,” she starts curiously, purposely knocking her shoulder against his, “The park,” she presses her lips together to contain her smile, “Are you going to tell me what you two are up to yet?” 

He stops her, turning them so he can talk to her and keep an eye on Jack, “A couple of weeks ago a little bird told me you never got to do any fun things on your birthday like go to the park or the arcade.” 

She bites the inside of her cheek and looks over at Jack, the little boy now patiently sitting on one of the swings as he waits for them, and then back at Aaron, “Did he now?” 

Aaron nods and squeezes her hips before his hands slip to her lower back, encouraging her closer, “He did, so we decided we’d make sure you got to do all of those fun things on your birthday this year,” he explains, his smile adorably nervous, “We’re going to a pizza place for lunch, then the arcade and then out for ice cream - which I was told was non-negotiable - which will be followed by heading home to order in dinner from a place of your choosing,” he smiles, his dimples carved out into his cheeks, “And then we’ll watch whatever nerdy movie you pick.”

She chuckles and hooks her arms around his neck, her fingers trailing through the short hair there. She feels tears pressing at the back of her eyes, her chest tight with love and everything she’d never been able to find the words for. She’d never been loved like this before. Never been loved so unconditionally or deeply, and there were moments like this when it was overwhelming, something that not all that long ago would have sent her running in the other direction. 

These days, she didn’t want to run anywhere other than towards Aaron and Jack, and the future they were building together. 

She watches as panic washes over her boyfriend’s face, mistaking her silence for annoyance rather than joyful disbelief, “If this was a bad idea, we can go home,” he says, half stuttering out his words in a way she’d never heard from him before, “I have a backup reservation at that new Italian place this evening-”

She cuts him off with a kiss, her hands on each of his cheeks as she pulls back, “No, this is…” she trails off into a wet chuckle, shaking her head at him, “This is perfect,” she kisses him again, “You’re perfect. I love you so much.” 

He smiles, his relief spreading through him in a way she can feel, his body relaxing against hers, “I love you too.” 

She leans in to kiss him again but they are cut off by a yell from Jack, his patience finally running out. 

“Dad, Emily, hurry up!”

They both laugh and look at him, his hands on his hips as he stands just a few feet away from the swings, and then they look back at each other, wide smiles on both of their faces as they start to walk towards the young boy.

“He never used to do that either.” 

“Aaron.” 

___

It had without a doubt, been her favourite birthday she’d ever had. 

Jack insisted that he had to push her on the swing, his small hands on her back helped along by Aaron’s bigger hands just above them, both of them laughing as she tried to pretend she wasn’t enjoying herself. They’d ordered more food than they could possibly have eaten at the pizza place and then spent more money than she thought possible at the arcade. Hours and hours lost to the three of them moving from game to game, the tickets they’d won stuffed into their pockets as they drank giant sodas and somehow found room for hot dogs and ice cream. She’d handed her tickets over to Aaron when she went to the bathroom, her lips stamped against his as he said they’d meet her at the prize counter, and she expected that she’d find them standing there with some plastic game Jack had picked out for himself. 

Instead, she’d found them there with a large stuffed cat in Jack’s arms, his smile wide as he handed it to her and told her they’d chosen it for her. It’s probably the ugliest looking thing she’s ever seen - its black fur looked unevenly distributed, its sewn-on smile was wonky and the stare from its eyes was something close to unnerving - but she loves it. It’s immediately her favourite thing she’s ever been given, and she’s sure she’s never come closer to crying in public. It’s something that would have felt ridiculous in the middle of an arcade filled with screaming children and exasperated parents, so she’d held it together. She’d held the cat close all night, cuddled up against her as they watched Star Wars, a physical manifestation of their love for her that she wasn’t quite ready to let go of yet. 

When they get ready for bed, she places it on an armchair in the corner of Aaron’s bedroom and pats it on the head before she walks to the ensuite. She’s just finished with her skincare routine when Aaron joins her, his arms wrapping around her from behind as he smiles at her in the mirror. 

“Did you have a good birthday?” He asks, kissing her cheek, making her smile when he shifts down to kiss her neck, his nose nestling against her jawline, his love for her lotion well known. 

“I did,” she replies, resting her hands over his on her abdomen, “The best.” 

He tilts his head to look down at her, “Are you sure? It was only when we were at the arcade I realised I’d let Jack talk me into the perfect day for a 6-year-old boy.” 

She’d laugh, but she wants him to know how much this had meant to her, how this had been infinitely more special to her than a dinner in a restaurant they could eat at any night could ever have been. She turns in his arms and wraps her arms around his neck, letting her thumb stroke back and forth over the patch of skin beneath his hairline. 

“Honey, today was perfect,” she says, her eyes boring into his, hoping more than anything that he’d believe her, “You gave me something I didn’t even know I’d been missing,” she smiles when he relaxes, “This was the best birthday I’ve ever had,” her smile turns mischievous as she leans in to kiss him, “If anything, you’ve just made more hard work for yourself next year when you have to try and top it.” 

He grins at her, his grip on her tightening, “I look forward to the challenge,” he kisses her, his hands firm on her lower back as he holds her close, his fingers sneaking under the hem of her t-shirt. He starts to lead her towards the bedroom, both of them grasping at each other, their kiss eventually lost as her knees hit the back of the bed and she pulls him down on top of her, “Just one thing though.” 

She frowns at him as she tries to catch her breath, “What?” 

“We’re not doing this with that fucking cat watching us.”

She laughs as she looks over to the stuffed cat sitting on the armchair in the corner of the room, and she holds Aaron’s head against her chest, his forehead against her collarbone, “Don’t worry honey,” she encourages him to look up at her, her lips stamped against his as she scrapes his hair away from his forehead, “I’m sure we’ll find a permanent place for it.” 

18 months later, the cat is one of many stuffed animals lined up in their daughter’s nursery. Its wonky smile a well-loved companion on long sleepless nights as Emily feeds the baby and Aaron holds them both close.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Now, this is magnificent. It’s a chateau built in 1996 in Oak Brook, Illinois. Trinity Lakes Chateau has 5bd. 5.5+ba. and is for sale for $2.29M.

Trinity Chateau looks a lot older than it actually is, and is very skillfully built. Look at this magnificent entrance hall. The cement moldings and niches are so skillfully sculpted and the marble floor and curved ceiling are spectacular.

Off the main hall thru double doors is a music room. 

Gracefully swirling staircases to the upper and lower floors. 

The sitting area is stunning. A curved wall of windows is lined with Greek columns and the soaring floor to ceiling fireplace is impressive.

Behind the sitting area is a very sophisticated home office.

The TV room has a more modern look with the mezzanine above, but look at the regal fireplace.

The dining room features a curved ceiling and doors to the patio flanked by large Greek pillars.

The everyday dining area is several steps down from the kitchen. 

The large kitchen features high-end cabinetry, a rustic ceiling, a fabulous niche around the cooktop, plus a fireplace. 

Look at this- a sliding mirror opens to reveal the hidden home theater.

This is the first home theater I’ve seen that has balcony seating.

View of the main floor from the stairs and mezzanine.

The main bd. has a sitting area, fireplace, pitched ceiling with skylights and doors to a terrace.

The large en-suite features a glass shower and a sunken tub.

Off the bath is a walk-in closet/dressing room.

One of the spacious secondary bedrooms with access to the outdoors.

State of the art sauna.

The rooftop deck looks like the Louvre in Paris, with its pyramid.

Behind the home is a pond and you can see the large terraces, all on .52 acres.

https://www.priceypads.com/2-29m-trinity-lakes-chateau-for-sale-in-oak-brook-illinois/

[youarebeingshaggedbyarareparrot]

Worse things happen at sea: Art in the Paris 2024 Olympic Opening Ceremony

So everyone has been sounding off about the Paris' Olympic Opening Ceremony. Mainly about the supposed 'insult to Christians everywhere' with the recreation of Di Vinci's 'The Last Supper'.

(I'd like to go on the record that 1. you pose any group of folk in a line facing the viewer with a barrier at hip height and it's gonna look a little 'The Last Supper'-y, 2. clearly the hand wringers had forgotten that the artist was Di Vinci. The man would be pointing and laughing at them and be living it up on that bridge between Nicky Doll and DJ Butch, and 3. Da Vinci painted enough portraits of Bacchus, he would have known what's up.)

Anyway, a lot of art was incorporated and celebrated but there's one piece that did featured that had me performing a mental emergency stop and NO ONE ELSE is talking about it so I need to know I wasn't the only one to spot this.

So, opening ceremony, we're following our mysterious torch bearer as they race through the the Louvre to the strains of 'Danse macabre', (French composer Camille Saint-Saëns). The eyes of the paintings occupants follow their progress until we see frames with empty back drops, the paintings' subjects having come alive to watch the festivities from the windows. But the last empty frame... my people...

Our mystery guide stands in front of this for nearly 3 seconds, at the 1hr 42min 11sec mark in the BBC coverage. Now, I can't make out the plaque at the bottom of the frame, but I am prepared to place good money that this is Théodore Géricault's 'Le Radeau de la Méduse', or 'The Raft of the Medusa'.

Completed in 1819, this piece is considered the best work of its' French artist and an icon of the French Romanticism movement. It's chuffing huge, over 16ft by 23ft, and it is stunning.

It also depicts one of the worst events in French maritime history.

In June of 1816, the French frigate The Medusa left France for Senegal on the west coast of Africa. At her helm was a captain who had not sailed in 20 odd years and got the post through connections and political clout. And he fucked it up royally. The Medusa drifted 100 miles off course and ran aground off Mauritania. After 3 days of failing to shift the boat, the 400 or so people aboard has choices to make. They were 30 miles from land and there were 6 boats, room for 250 people. Some stayed aboard the stranded vessel but at least 146 men and one woman boarded a jerry-rigged raft. The plan was for it to be towed by some of the boats, but after only a few miles it was turned loose.

For 13 days, exposure, mutiny, disease, dehydration and starvation ravaged the survivors, whittling nearly 150 down to 15. It was in my fact checking for this that I learnt the lovely little term ‘a custom of the sea’. In layman’s terms, cannibalising your crew mates to survive. They were spotted by chance, no search effort had been made by the French. A further 5 died in the days following rescue. British naval officers helped the survivors to return to France because aid from the French government didn’t appear and the captain, who had made it to land fine, was more interested in recovering the gold on board the Medusa. He was court marshalled and should have been executed, but in the end served 3 years in prison. He was the inciting incident for a law to passed that ensured that promotions in the French military would thereafter be based on merit.

Now all this came hurtling into my head because I remember reading a book called 'Severed' by Frances Larson, all about the cultural and historical fascination with decapitation. There's a section in the chapter of severed heads in art about how Géricault went hard on the research for this painting; visited morgues and hospitals, brought home specimens to watch decay rate, y'know, stuff that absolutely wouldn't blow your safety deposit. But yeah, I'm there with dawning horror and ice in my blood as we look at a very French painting, of a French maritime tragedy, brought about by the hubris and arrogance and incompetence of the higher ups who had no right being there, where comrades and crew turn on each other in a horrific fight for survival, with the spooky dancing bones classical piece playing in the background...

And not 20 seconds later we are rejoining the action of the flotilla on the Seine, 'Fraternité' writ large over the boat with Cyprus, Columbia and Comoros waving excitedly and soggily at us.

Thomas Jolly, opening ceremony artistic director, I need to buy you a drink and we need to chat. I need to study you. I have been turning this over in my brain for a week, what are you trying to say?! Was I the only one to hear it?!

[likedaylighht]

I promise that you'll never find another like me-he-he Our song is a slamming screen door sneaking out late tapping on your window back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known just take me home and I'm so furious (Yeah) at you for making me feel this way don'tpretendit'ssuchamysterythinkabouttheplacewhereyoufirstmetme (Me-he-he) fighting in only your army i'm damned if I do give a damn what people say (Stay) Isn't it, isn’t it, isn't it? I think that it's best if we both stay (And I wouldn't marry me either) Snakes and stone never broke my bones so people throw rocks at things that shine I'd never walk Cornelia Street again Our song is the way he laughs This is a big world This love is ours 'Cause there we again We never go out of style (Isn't it, isn't it, isn't it?) You need to calm down Will it patch your broken wings I had a feeling so peculiar you're choosing me Superstar, I remember all too well You won't remember all my champagne problems delicate And goodbye's so much harder...Dear reader I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore...I tell you my problems, you tell me the truth...I'll tell you the truth but never goodbye

Hang this in the louvre

[just-another-siimp]

I was wondering if you could write a fluffy piece about Gaz and his partner having a sweet domestic moment in bed. Thank you

The Gaz homies are in the house today???? Please keep the Gaz requests coming!!! I fucken insert feral screaming here love him. This is more than a sweet domestic moment, but it counts right???

Warnings: No use of Y/N, Reader goes by Chip. Read the Enemy at the Gate series to understand some of the lore about where Gaz and Chip live!! I overdid it again. I'm sorry

Leave was something that every military member craved at one point or another, for you and Kyle leave was something neither of you saw often. When the Captain had announced that the 141st would be going on a two week leave it was a surprise, a pleasant one at that.

There was a buzz of excitement that radiated from Kyle as you both packed the jeep, an excitement that once upon a time you did not share. Except now that excitement was shared with him as you both prepared for the long journey home, it was roughly a 9 hour drive from the base in London to your home in Metz, France.

Normally you and Gaz would divide the driving into 2 hour blocks, arriving home just as the sun set and with enough time to go into town and buy a hot meal. On this occasion however, Kyle had convinced you to stop in Paris for a few nights. It had taken quite a bit of convincing, even Ghost had stepped in telling you about a new exhibit at The Louvre. When you finally caved in Gaz promised that he would organise the rest.

That was how you ended up in one of the fanciest hotels you'd ever stepped foot in, you almost felt out of place with some of the dirt and grime from previous missions still clinging to your skin. While Gaz spoke to the lady at reception you took a moment to send Soap a selfie, trying your hardest to showcase the grandness of the foyer.

S: Looks fancy as dove! I'm staying at Lt's place for a few nights, I'll show him the picture.

C: Try not to murder each other while you're there.

S: No promises, C. Ghost says congratulations!

Before you even had time to think about what Soap had said Gaz was by your side again, gently taking your phone from your hands and replacing it with a keycard. You gave him a questioning look, head tilted to the side as he ushered you forward.

"Come on, love. Our room is ready."

-

You didn't have a chance to interrogate Kyle on the way up to your room, the attendant in the elevator having struck up a conversation with you both as he took you to the top floor. Kyle's hand had slipped into yours as you were guided through the halls, eventually stopping in front of room 141.

Kyle laughed.

To say that the room was lavish would be an understatement, the evening sunset gave the room a gorgeous orange glow as you rushed forward to look out of the window. The busy Paris nightlife bustling below your feet as you turned to look back at Kyle.

"This is amazing!" You took a second look over the living room. It was spacious, decorated with plush white couches, priceless artwork and fresh flowers. "Kyle this is perfect.. thank you."

"Just wait til you see the bedroom." There was a joke hidden somewhere within that statement, one that you would have made if Kyle hadn't practically dragged you into the bedroom. You could've sworn that this was all a dream when your eyes caught sight of the familiar tower just outside the window.

It was hard to contain the squeal that came from you as you ran out onto the small balcony, taking in the magnificence of the Eiffel Tower. This really was the perfect surprise.

"This is- Kyle this is too much." You blurted out, turning to face him with a smile.

"I wanted to surprise you with something nice, dove." He stepped closer to you, body framing yours against the balcony. "Do you remember when you first joined the 141st? That time I got shot-"

"Because you jumped in front of a bullet, to save my life." you interrupted him, chest clenching at the memory. Kyle soothed your worry with a kiss.

"Yes, that time. Do you remember what you said to keep me awake?" Your eyes went wide, suddenly remembering what you'd told him that day. "You said 'one day when I go on leave, I'll book a hotel room that looks out at the Eiffel Tower and eat enough croissants to last a lifetime."

"I really did didn't I?" Your heart felt as though it could burst out of your chest, smile never leaving your face even when you kissed him. That night was spent in the hotel, admiring the view and eating croissants until you both passed out in the comfiest bed imaginable.

-

Kyle had always been an early riser, something you secretly hated about your beloved. It was the way that he could be awake and functioning before 9am, while you were still trying to consume enough caffeine to wake you up. For once both of you slept well past noon.

The both of you took your time to wake up, over time you'd moved from his side to laying on top of him. Enjoying the feeling of his hand in your hair, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and how it rumbled when he laughed at something you said.

It was moments like these that made everything you both fought for worth it, all of the violence you'd both seen made moments like these possible. Even then the selfish part of your brain never wanted it to end.

"Kyle?" His hum in response forced you to look up at him, slowly creeping forward so that you could press a kiss to the corner of his lips. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"Me as well." He whispered, lips pressing to your forehead silence taking over the room again. Eventually you rolled off of him, settling against his side and taking his hand. Comparing it to yours.

"You have pretty hands, Kyle."

"I think yours would look prettier with a ring on it." he spoke softly, index finger pointing to your ring finger. "Right there."

"Kyle-"

"Chip- I was going to wait for a more romantic moment but I realised.. laying here in this bed with you. It's the perfect time. Because there is nothing more in this world that I want, than moments like this spent with you in bed but with you as my partner." Suddenly he was moving, taking a small velvet box out of the nightstand offering it to you. "Would you do me the honour.. of marrying me."

It took a moment to process what he was saying, tears threatened to fall as you nodded your head. "Yes.. A million times yes." You whispered, face now hidden in his chest as he held you to him. It wasn't clear how long you'd both stayed like that for, eventually you'd pulled away to kiss him. Your phone aggressively vibrating in the background, ruining the sweet moment.

"It's probably Soap-" You mumbled turning the phone off, realisation hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"What is it love?"

"So that's what Ghost meant by 'Congrats'" You laughed looking at Kyle, watching as he glared at your phone.

"I knew one of those bloody idiots would ruin it-"

-

It wasn't until a year later that you and Gaz visited that hotel, as newly weds.

[celestiall0tus]

Long Road - Chapter 12 - Coming Soon

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Marinette rushed down into Liberty’s hold to meet Luka for their date. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Alix with Juleka and Rose. They all turned and waved her over.

            “Hey, girls, what’s up?” Marinette asked.

            “You’re just in time! Alix was about to share some amazing news!” Rose cheered.

            “Oh? What’s that?” Marinette asked.

            “Get this. There’s this new exhibit coming to the museum and my dad’s letting me get a look at it early before it goes live tomorrow. Mylene and some of the guys are already going to meet me there. What about you girls?” Alix asked.

            “What’s so special about this exhibit?” Juleka muttered.

            “Oh, right. Let me just get… here!”

            Alix held up a picture of a bizarre white box lined with silver and peculiar black markings on its surface.

            “Woah. Creepy,” Juleka cooed.

            “It is a little, yes,” Rose agreed.

            “That’s… strange. Uh, when will you be seeing it today?” Marinette asked.

            “Soon. Actually, right after this. I figured I’d stop in before I went back to the Louvre. Care to join?”

            “Count me in,” Juleka said.

            “Me too!” Rose cheered.

            “Uh, one moment. Juleka, is Luka-?” Marinette started.

            “Yeah. He should be done by now. Go ahead,” Juleka said.

            Marinette nodded and trotted over to Luka and Juleka’s room. She turned the corner and jumped back. Luka sat on his bed in meditation like the first time she saw him, but with a man sitting beside him with his eyes closed. She paled at the sharp, serpentine features of the man, pale skin like he was ill, black rocker clothes, and unnaturally long hair.

            “S-sass?” Marinette whispered.

            Sass’s eyes shot open with his snake green eyes and pupils narrowed into slits. Luka’s eyes opened as Marinette flinched and stepped back. Luka shot to his feet and approached Marinette.

            “Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Luka commented.

            “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just… surprised by Sass,” Marinette reassured.

            Sass grumbled and hissed. He slinked off the bed and headed to the living room when Kaalki blocked his path.

            “Hey, lovebirds! We’re getting ready to head out. Let’s go!”

            “Oh, right. Hey, Luka, would you be ok with a small detour before our date? Alix’s dad is letting her see a new exhibit early and she’s invited us along with some other friends,” Marinette explained.

            “Yeah, that sounds like fun,” Luka said.

            “Alright! You’re coming too, scales,” Kaalki demanded.

            “No, I don’t think I will,” Sass hissed.

            “Oh, but you are. You know who is coming too and she’ll be very sad if you don’t show up. I wonder what she’ll do.”

            Sass sighed and growled. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

            “Oi, Mari, where’s little Velze?” Kaalki asked.

            “Huh? Oh, Gimmi? She’s at home. She, uh, didn’t want to listen to our, uh, sickening lovey words?” Marinette attempted.

            Kaalki looked Marinette over, then at the mini purse at Marinette’s side. She rushed at Marinette and snatched it before Marinette could react. She reached into it and pulled Gimmi from it. She beamed and tossed Marinette the purse back.

            “There you are, mini Velze! Come, join us. Stretch your legs with the rest of us.”

            Gimmi shot Kaalki a menacing look. She didn’t respond but phased through Kaalki’s grip and shifted into her human form. Marinette reached out for Gimmi as Gimmi navigated Liberty while avoiding the windows. Kaalki whooped and ran out after Gimmi. Marinette grimaced as she looked on, worried.

            “Everything alright?” Luka asked.

            “Not exactly. Gimmi has been avoiding all reflective surfaces. She won’t even look me in the eyes long either. When I ask, she doesn’t tell me why, but it’s clear something is wrong. I just don’t know what to do to help her,” Marinette explained.

            “I think the best you can do is let her approach you when she’s ready. There may be something wrong, but if she hasn’t shared, she isn’t ready. Give her time and she will be.”

            Marinette looked at the ground, then at Luka with a smile. “I’ll try. I’m just worried.”

            Luka returned the smile and took Marinette’s hand. “It’s ok to be worried. You care for her, just like you did with Tikki.”

            “I mean, I still do, but yeah, I do care for Gimmi. We clash and she’s never shy about reminding me about the reality of things, but I appreciate her for it.”

            “Oi, let’s go!” Kaalki yelled.

            Luka and Marinette jumped at Kaalki’s voice, then laughed. They joined the others on the deck before they headed to the Louvre. Marinette chatted with Luka along the way, but her eyes never left Gimmi as Gimmi avoided all reflective surfaces. When they approached the Louvre, Gimmi fell back behind Luka and Marinette.

            “Hey, are you ok?” Marinette asked.

            “Peachy. Just avoiding that,” Gimmi hissed.

            Marinette turned back and saw Mylene with Longg along with Marc with Tikki, Nathaniel with Vana, and Kim with Xuppu.

            “Finally, Alix! We’ve been waiting forever! You know this report is due tomorrow, right?” Kim yelled.

            “You should have done it sooner, idiot,” Alix spat.

            “It’s not my fault. I was supposed to do it with Ondine’s help, but everything just keeps coming up and she did it on her own. So, I’m all on my own.”

            “Not my problem, meathead. Anyway, everyone read-,” Alix started.

            “Sass!” Longg yelled.

            Sass stopped and sighed. Longg charged at him and scooped him up. She laughed and flung him around like a doll before she hugged him and bit his arm. Everyone flinched, but he didn’t react. She grinned and put him on her back like a backpack. She joined the others as everyone headed in. Luka and Marinette took up the rear with Gimmi.

            “That was… quite the scene. Have you ever seen that?” Marinette asked.

            “No. Mylene doesn’t come around very often. Even when she does, she’s just meeting with Juleka and Rose, so I never see Sass and Longg interact. Still, even though he’s unbothered, I hope he’s ok,” Luka said.

            “Sass is fine. I know he enjoys Longg’s bizarre affections, even if he never lets on about them,” Gimmi butted in.

            “Are you saying Sass enjoys being bitten?” Luka asked.

            “Yes,” Gimmi answered.

            Marinette hummed as a thought crossed her mind and she smirked. “You know, Luka, I’ve come to understand that we begin to mirror our kwamis in many aspects the longer that we’re with them. Does this mean you also like to be bitten?”

            Luka’s face flushed. “Ah, well, uh, y-you see, uh, I… I wouldn’t know, you know? I mean! You were the only girl I had dated before our breakup… and there was no one else. Even when we were together, we never… you know, so I… I don’t know.”

            Gimmi peered up at Luka. “You’re telling me a however old teenage boy you are has never thought with his other head? Never not once?”

            Luka’s blush deepened while Marinette blushed. “Gimmi!”

            “What? You aren’t seriously that surprised, are you? You both are transitioning into adults. Him sooner than you. You are going to have to address the topic of physical intimacy sooner or later. Sooner rather than later. And not by these little teasing jokes you seem to think are amusing,” Gimmi snapped.

            “She’s right, you know,” Sass yelled back.

            “Alright, enough. Can we talk about literally anything else?” Marinette asked.

            “Yes, please. I don’t want to think about my brother’s sex life,” Juleka said with a shutter.

            Luka pursed his lips as his face turned bright red.

            “Yeah, no one wants to talk about their likely boring, vanilla ass love like Nathan and Marc. I’d rather talk about Kim’s failing relationship,” Alix pointed out.

            “Failing? Oh no! What happened with you and Ondine?” Rose asked.

            “Nothing. She’s just been busy with Terra,” Kim said.

            “I don’t know. Sounds like she doesn’t want to see you,” Alix commented.

            “What? No. Who wouldn’t want to see me when she gets all of this?” Kim asked as he flexed.

            “Is that supposed to be impressive?” Longg asked.

            “Well, I mean, yes! Ondine thought it was impressive.”

            “I’m sorry on her behalf.”

            Kim’s jaw dropped. He was about to respond when Alim Kubdel approached them with the director.

            “Welcome, everyone. We’ve been waiting for you guys,” Alim said.

            Kim raised his hand. “Mr. Alix’s Dad, is this exhibit related to anything historical and can I use it for my report?”

            “Of course. Come along.”

            Everyone followed Alim and the director to a back room. They approached a table with the box on it. Everyone stared at it while the kwamis stood back.

            “Hey, any of you feel something… off?” Fluff asked.

            Mullo nodded.

            “Kaalki, you brought us here for a reason,” Sass said.

            “Did you, Kaalki?” Tikki asked.

            Kaalki smiled and pulled Gimmi close to her. “Mini Velze, look upon the box. What do you see? What do you feel?”

            Gimmi sneered and opened her mouth, but paused when her eyes landed on the box. Her eyes widened as familiar presences washed over her. Their presences were accompanied by a vile repulsion and betrayal she had never felt, but had at the same time. She knotted her brows as her pupils constricted.

            “Oh no.”

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[windowanddoorinstallation]

Benefits That People Avail By Installing Louvre Windows Sydney

So many different kinds of windows are available in residential and commercial buildings, and all of them are equally versatile and functional. But the most recommended and used one is the Louvre windows Sydney that are made from horizontal slats that function as shutters. They can be opened and closed to allow air and sunlight to come in. The design is not new, and it originally originated in the Middle Ages and continues to be the most useful one for modern-day homes. With Louvre windows, there come so many benefits, and we have covered the main ones in this post here.

Superior Ventilation

By installing Louvre windows, homes with traditional and also modern designs get to enjoy unmatched ventilation, and this has been the top benefit of these windows. These windows make ventilation far better for any property as compared to other kinds of windows available in the market. The slats allow the air to flow freely inside the home and make any interior cooler than usual. When not needed, these slats can be sealed tightly to restrict any wind from coming inside.

Uninterrupted Views

Another advantage of Louvre windows Sydney is that you get uninterrupted views of these surroundings. According to those offering Louvre windows services, the slats fitted in these windows can be made of glass, and this means that they will not disturb the view from your windows. If privacy is a concern, you can add these windows with blinds or curtains, and also, there is an option of frosted glass to ensure complete privacy.

Classic Appearance

These windows are not new and have been in use for many centuries. This means that even in modern homes, you have the opportunity to get a classic or timeless look. You will give a unique touch to the area where these windows are installed, and also, the decoration part is relatively easy to match. They are a fantastic way to think outside the box when you plan to get your home renovated.

[pickalilywrites]

Saw the fanart of Levi as the torch runner for the Paris Olympics, makes me think that Levi really could do the entire running stunt all over the city.

That would make a great fic au. The AOT characters are Olympians and Levi, being a former 25 timed gold medalist has retired, but is asked to be the special guest torch runner and light the flame to start the games.

passing the torch

snk ensemble. olympics au. 2994 words.

The athletes wait in anticipation as the passing of the torch is displayed on the stadium’s screen. It begins on the top of the Basilica of Sacré Coeur de Montmartre, a beautiful structure constructed in the late 19th century that looks more akin to a castle than a church with its tall towers and stained glass windows. Standing beside one of the grandiose towers is a hooded figure with a mask on. In the mysterious figure’s hand is the Olympic torch blazing brightly. The camera orbits around the figure before switching to match the figure’s gaze: a view of the magnificent city of Paris. The view shifts from the bustling cobblestone streets, the river Seine, the Eiffel tower, the Louvre, and other famous Parisian monuments. The camera moves slowly to give the audience a clear view of all Paris has to offer before it returns once more the hooded figure who slowly reaches up to remove his mask and reveal his face. When his face is uncovered, the stadium filled with athletes erupts in cheers. 

“Tonight is the opening ceremony of the Olympics. As the athletes wait to be introduced, we are given an apt beginning to the ceremony with someone who many consider the face of the Olympics and one of the greatest of athletes of all time: 25-time Olympic gold medalist in men's artistic gymnastics Levi Ackerman,” announces Ilse Langer, a sports announcer once again returning to cover the Olympics. A few returning athletes and many first-time Olympians chatter excitedly when they recognize her voice. The sports announcer is a favorite due to her incredible ability to break down all the technical aspects of different Olympic events clearly and concisely. “He’s returning now for his fifth Olympics, but this time as the torch bearer and not as a competing athlete. While his absence in the men's artistic gymnastics event will be sorely missed, his appearance at the opening ceremony is undoubtedly a welcome sight to his peers and newcomers as well as folks at home watching who have followed his elite career for decades.”  

 The camera stills on the gymnast for a moment and then the gymnast turns suddenly and begins to run across the top of the cathedral. He nears the edge of the building but rather than stop, he jumps and then miraculously lands on nearby structure. He dashes and leaps from building to building, giving the camera a chance to capture all the beautiful French architecture as he traverses the city. When Levi approaches the river Seine, there is a zipline waiting for him. Without hesitating, he flies across the river, zipping through the air on the line. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe he’s ziplining through Paris as if parkouring wasn’t enough,” Eren says admirably. He’s on the men's swim team representing Paradis, but he holds the utmost respect for the gymnast despite them being in completely different disciplines. “Isn’t that hard on his knees? I can’t believe he came back to do this. Shouldn’t his knees be, like, super fucked up from gymnastics and everything? He’s incredible.”  

Pieck, an equestrian athlete, side-eyes the swimmer. A smile plastered on her face, she says warningly, “Please watch your language, Eren. Some athletes here are still quite young and impressionable and might pick up your bad habits. Just the other day I overheard Gabi telling Falco she was going to ‘raw-dog’ the shooting event. When I asked her where she learned that term, she told me you said it meant to go into something without any preparation.”  

Eren’s face flushes. “Well, that is how people use it,” he mumbles. 

“That’s true. It’s kind of interesting how language evolves and takes different meanings as it’s passed around,” Armin begins eagerly, but he shrinks when Pieck directs her gaze towards him. The athlete, Eren’s teammate on the swim team, coughs. “Of course, it’s still true we should be careful how we speak among the younger athletes.”  

Pieck nods, the vaguely threatening smile still on her face. “I’m glad you agree with me. I’d hate to put the entire men's swim team on my watchlist.”  

However, Gabi and the other young athletes are too enraptured by Levi Ackerman leaping and dashing across rooftops and famous Parisian monuments to pay any attention to what Eren and Pieck are discussing. Despite being in completely different disciplines, the youngest athletes have found a kinship with each other and have stuck to each other during their Olympic journey so far. It’s their first time at the Olympic games and they’re absolutely starstruck by all the other top athletes around them, especially the one on the stadium’s screen.  

“I can’t believe he’s here! I thought he retired after the last Olympics. I can’t believe we’re at the same Olympics as Levi Ackerman,” Gabi gushes. Her brown eyes are glued to the screen, unable to look away at the gymnast performing some of his signature flips and twists as he jumps from building to building. 

Udo, a table tennis player and one of Gabi’s companions, nods in agreement. His eyes are similarly fixed on the screen. The spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose make his eyes look even wider as he watches Levi with a gaze filled with awe. “I cried for an entire week after I heard he was retiring.”  

Both Falco and Zofia, two more young athletes that Gabi and Udo had befriended on the trip to Paris, nod in agreement. 

Petra, a rhythmic gymnast, has her arms wrapped gently around Falco. It’s her third Olympics, making her a veteran athlete that many look up to. Her charming and warm personality makes it easy for people to approach her and so this young batch of new Olympians naturally found themselves in her care. Now, she smiles down at them and asks, “Would you like to meet him sometime? I could probably arrange something once your events are over. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind meeting you all or at least having a videocall.”  

“Really? You can do that?” Falco asks, turning to look at the rhythmic gymnast.  

“Absolutely,” Petra says cheerfully.  

“Wow! You guys must be close,” Udo says with a tinge of jealousy.  

“Well, it’s something like that,” Petra laughs as the teenagers practically vibrate with excitement.  

Eren frowns as he overhears the conversation. He’s been a long-time admirer of Levi and had even bumped into the gymnast in the last Olympic games, but he had struggled to strike up a conversation with him.  

“I exchanged numbers with Levi at the last games, but he never texted me back,” Eren sighs. “I wonder what his relationship with Petra is that she can ask him for favors like that so easily.”  

Armin and Mikasa exchange looks with Mikasa rolling her eyes.  

“God, you’re dense,” Mikasa says with a shake of her head and Armin laughs beside her. Like Armin and Eren, Mikasa is also a swimmer. This is her third time at the Olympics, and she’s well on track to becoming one of the most decorated swimmers of all time if her times at the Olympic Trials are any indication.  

“What? What did I say?” Eren asks. He looks at Mikasa and Armin, but neither of his friends offer him an explanation. He huffs and begins to complain about them leaving him in the dark, but someone throws their arms around Eren and Mikasa without warning and Eren yelps in surprise. 

“Ah, did I scare you?” Hanji grins. The sports climber gives Eren a cheeky wink as they pull Eren and Mikasa closer for a hug. “I’m surprised to see you all here. Don’t the swimmers usually sit out of the opening ceremony because your event is the next day?”  

Armin gives Hanji a shrug and a little laugh. “Mikasa also said we should take a day to rest, but Eren really wanted to go to the opening ceremony. I guess it’s a good thing we did or else we would have missed Levi’s appearance.”  

Eren waves off Hanji’s concerns. “Hey, we’re young still and we rested really well on the flight here. Anyway, there are other athletes that are attending the ceremony even though they have an event tomorrow. Look at Eld and Gunther!”  

At the mention of their names, both gymnasts look in Eren’s direction and give the swimmer a wave.  

“Hey, Eren! Looks like you decided to go to the ceremony too! Sure as hell beats resting and missing out on all this,” Eld says, gesturing at the big screen where Levi is sneaking around the Palace of Versailles.  

Both Eld and Gunther had previously participated in Olympic games and had the honor of being on the same men’s gymnastics team as Levi. The experience was something they treasured even more than the team gold they had won at the last game.  

“It feels a little strange being here,” Gunther chuckles. “Levi had always sat out, so we never went until now. It’ll probably be our last time here, so we wanted to experience it at least once.”  

“Well, you should have stayed in your hotel room and rested instead!” a voice says suddenly and both Gunther and Eld jump back in surprise as Auruo, a trampoline athlete, appears between them. He has a stern expression on his face as he glares at Eld and then Gunther. “If neither of you medal, you’re going to burn Levi’s legacy to the ground and everything he’s achieved will be for nothing! Of course, I’ll do well because I always do, but you two should really take care of yourselves.”  

Auruo lets out an unholy shriek when he feels a sharp sting at his side. He’s sniffling even once it stops, the memory of the sudden pinch at his side still lingering. He looks sorely at Petra who smiles as if she hasn’t done anything wrong. 

“Levi’s legacy is Levi’s. Eld and Gunther could never touch it even if they wanted to, but they have their own legacies to write. Stop stressing them out and just let them do their best like they always do,” Petra tells Auruo. She pokes him in the side where she had pinched him earlier and he lets out another startled yell. “Worry about your own legacy. I’ll definitely tell Levi as soon as possible if you don’t medal.”  

“That won’t happen because I’ll definitely medal,” Auruo growls, rubbing at his side as he glares at the rhythmic gymnast. 

“Glad to hear it,” Petra says cheerfully. 

Pieck looks around and observes the other athletes representing Paradis. Some have sat out to prepare for their events taking place tomorrow, but there are some faces she doesn’t expect to see.  

“I thought you wouldn’t care to attend the opening ceremony, Annie,” Pieck says. The equestrian rider smiles as she loops her arm through Annie who tries to close the gap between her arm and her side far too late. Pieck rests her head on Annie’s shoulder.  

“It’s not like I wanted to go. Reiner just wouldn’t stop bothering me about it, so I decided to come to shut him up,” Annie huffs. She’s a fencer whose event doesn’t take place until a few days into the Olympic games, but Annie has never cared about fanfare and overblown celebrations. The only thing she hated more than crowded ceremonies was Reiner’s nagging. She glares at the direction of the cyclist who’s busy enjoying himself and chatting beside his colleagues. “I wanted to stay in my hotel room and sleep.”  

“Poor you. Should I get someone to carry you? Maybe the wrestling brothers?” Pieck teases, referring to Porco and Marcel Galliard. She glances at someone hovering shyly behind them. With a sly smile, Pieck suggests, “Bertholdt could probably carry you. I’m sure you could nap on his back during the opening ceremony and he wouldn’t mind at all.”  

“H-huh?” Bertholdt stammers, his face flushing at the thought of being in such close proximity to Annie who remains oblivious about his feelings towards her. “I don’t know-”  

“Stop talking nonsense,” Annie tells Pieck. She looks at Bertholdt warningly. “Don’t you dare pick me up.”  

“O-okay,” Bertholdt says, looking down at his feet so that he doesn’t have to make eye contact with Annie.  

A hush comes over the stadium as they watch Levi make the final stretch of his journey. He’s approaching the Olympic stadium now and all the athletes wait with bated breath for his figure to appear. Their eyes are fixed on the entrance of the stadium and when Levi’s silhouette finally emerges, the entire stadium erupts in explosive cheers. The cheering doesn’t cease until Levi finally hands the torch off to a French athlete who takes it graciously before running to finally light the Olympic cauldron with the flame. Even though the games have officially begun with the lighting of the flame, all eyes are still fixed on the gymnast who jogs to the join his old colleagues.  

“Levi! I didn’t think you’d be the type to do those types of stunts for the opening ceremony,” Erwin chuckles as he welcomes his old friend.  

Beside him, Erwin’s beach volleyball partner Mike nods. There’s an amused grin on his face. “Did they pay you a lot for it? I can’t imagine any amount of money that would have you do that.”  

“My agent said I would only have to do a reveal of my face at the end and they’d get a stunt person for most of it. Then the stunt person mysteriously disappeared,” Levi grumbles. “I should fire my agent for not reading the contract properly.”  

“Well, I thought it was amazing. Very entertaining,” Zeke says with a grin.  

Levi looks at Zeke and then at Erwin and Mike with an expression of incredulity and betrayal. “Zeke? You’re talking to Zeke?”  

“Oh, come on. We’re all friends. After all, everyone is here to represent Paradis,” Zeke says. The captain and pitcher of Paradis’ baseball team throws an arm around Levi’s shoulders.  

Levi shoots Erwin a gaze filled with a million daggers.  

Gabi and her friends have only grown more excited now that Levi has joined the rest of them. Udo looks as if he might faint just being in the gymnast’s presence. 

Sasha prods Gabi in the back. “If you want to say hi, just wave at him.”  

Gabi looks back at Sasha. “Can I do that? I can just wave at him? What if he ignores me? What if he thinks I'm an annoying brat?”  

“He’s actually a lot softer than he looks,” Sasha laughs. The archer gently prods Gabi again, an encouraging smile on her face. “Go on. If you miss your chance now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”  

“Alright,” Gabi says. She takes a deep breath and looks determinedly in Levi’s direction. She waits until his gaze meets hers. She immediately wants to look down, intimidated at the thought of being acknowledged by such a skilled athlete, but she steels herself and brings her hand up in a wave. She doesn’t expect Levi to wave back, but he does and her face breaks into a smile. 

“Oh my god, he waved at you!” Udo marvels.  

“Me too, me too!” Zofia says. The little archer waves enthusiastically at Levi and the rest of her friends follow suit, nearly hitting other nearby athletes in the face in their excitement.  

“I can die happy now,” Udo says. He brings his hand to his chest, his whole being filled with contentment after the brief moment he shared with his favorite athlete.  

“At least wait until you play your table tennis match to die,” Sasha jokes. “We need you!” 

Beside her, Connie yawns. The Olympic skateboarder is usually someone who enjoys extravagant ceremonies such as this one, but recently he’s been enraptured by something else. He looks over a Jean, his lower lip in a pout, and asks, “When can we go back to the Olympic Village? If I knew the ceremony would take this long I would have stuffed some of those chocolate muffins into my jacket.”  

“You need to stop eating all of those,” Jean says with a roll of his eyes. “One of the chefs is getting annoyed at having to bake so many at once.” 

“If Nicolo is so bothered, then he should stop being so good at baking!” Connie grins. 

Petra and the other gymnasts have managed to give Levi an escape from Zeke by wrestling him away so they could chat with him. The gymnasts crowd around their retired colleague. Their smiles are so wide that it’s a wonder that their faces haven’t cracked in half.  

“I thought you were retired, Levi. What are you doing back here?” Eld asks, nudging Levi in the side. 

“Did you miss us? Could you not bear the idea of us participating in an Olympics without you?” Petra teases.  

“Don’t be stupid. They just asked me for a favor and I decided it was easy cash,” Levi replies.  

“Still, you’re here with the rest of the participating athletes,” Gunther points out.  

“To make sure you guys don’t mess up probably,” Auruo sniffs.  

“To pass the torch,” Levi clarifies, and his friends ooh.  

“How kind of you. I’m always telling people you’re much kinder than you let on,” Petra teases. “Are you nervous that we’ll come home with fewer gold medals now that you’re not here to help us?”  

Paradis is a small country and the number of athletes the island has sent to participate in the Olympics can’t compare to larger countries, but the athletes Paradis does have are a strong-willed, passionate, and talented bunch. Over the years, the performance of Paradis athletes has only improved. Even this time, the Paradis athletes have gazes filled with an undeniable flame that is reminiscent of the fire reflected in Levi’s eyes the first time he had participated in the games. 

“No, not at all,” Levi replies, and he absolutely means it.  

[im-robins-bitch]

Paris is beautiful, but seeing Robin prance around Paris with a beret on her head and a cheesy smile on her face? Now that is a religious experience. 

Robin Buckley had a bucket list of things she wanted to do while she was in the city of love and as her dutiful girlfriend you planned on crossing off every single one while you were here.  

Taking photos of her posing bashfully next to the seine. 

Holding hands as you walk through various markets. 

Admiring the stained glass of Notre Dame and wondering if you could afford to have stained glass windows in your home or even some gargoyles.  

Feeding each other macaroons and trying to guess each flavour. 

Suggesting you put a love lock on the Pont Des Arts Bridge, but Robin spends 10 minutes explaining why it’s bad for the bridge. She also doesn’t want someone to cut off her lock and possibly jinx your relationship, but she keeps that reason to herself. 

You’ll walk around the Louvre Museum and every so often you’ll turn from a painting to ask her something and find her already looking at you adoringly. Every time she directs you to a painting she likes in particular she’ll always whisper in your ear after that it still isn’t as beautiful as you. 

After a whirlwind of sightseeing, you’ll both settle down for a picnic in one of the less busy parks, giving your feet some time to recover. Chocolate strawberries, fluffy pastries and some ice-cream helps you both recover your strength. 

Imagine Robins's face, warm from the sun, staring down at you while you rest your head in her lap, playing with her fingers while she tries to lick the melted chocolate from her lips. 

That night you’d walk around the town, seeing Paris lit up in the night. 

The day before you’d have to head home you’d go to the Eiffel Tower, kissing your girlfriend at the top like you’re in a movie. 

It was the last thing on Robin’s bucket list and the only thing that was on yours. There was one thing you wanted to do in Paris, and that was propose to your girlfriend on top of that tower. 

You’d turn around. You claim you want a proper look at the view, but really you're looking for the ring you’ve hidden in your pocket. It was a hard time smuggling that through security without Robin noticing, but it was all going to be worth it when you proposed to her in the city of her dreams. 

The speech is on the tip of your tongue as you go over the words in your head again and again. 

“Robin,” You would mumble, trying to work up the courage, but when you spin around to see her Robin is already on her knees, a velvet box held open to you with a ring between the cushions. 

“There was one more thing on my Paris bucket list”

Masterlist

[usa-manors-library]

The Mystery Visitor

Breathlessness. I'm not even sure if it could be considered an emotion, but... It felt like one. It felt like one crushing me as I stood in front of the manor. The manor that looked almost unrecognizable after so many years.

It was nighttime. Not a single light illuminated the world, except for the silver rays of the moon, partly obscured by passing clouds.

The sounds the soft wind caused were all I heard other than my heart pounding. They were welcoming noises. The tree branches swaying and the grass rustling reminded me that this was real. That this wasn't a dream.

It almost felt like one. The scene was idealistic enough to be a painting displayed only in establishments as distinguished as the Louvre.

I stared at the house in complete silence. 

I promised myself that I wouldn't tear up. Reminding myself of that, I wiped the trembling back of my hand against my watery eyes and took a single deep, shaky breath. I couldn't fathom what I was about to do...

But I knew I had to get moving before dawn and... well, I was already here. It would be a waste to not follow through with it. With another deep breath, I went forward on my journey.

As stealthy as a hunted mouse, I circled around the house. Anyone and everyone inside the building should be fast asleep by now, but I didn't want to take that chance...

I couldn't quite find what I was looking for. All the windows and doors were locked... It seemed like my mission had run into a wall.

Quite literally, I thought to myself as my gaze traced up the unfamiliar structure. Shaking away my doubts, I began my ascent to the top.

A small smile bloomed on my face as I climbed over the stone garden walls. The rumors were true. New Jersey grew up to love gardening, that much was obvious by the condition of the walled-in paradise. I could see it was cherished dearly, almost as if my little brother dedicated himself to making it the sequel of the Garden of Eden.

After sliding my legs over the top, I dropped down in the soft dirt below quietly, fulfilling my goal to miss the nearby flower bed. The dirt smelled damp and fresh, most likely watered the previous evening.

I took in the sight for a moment more before creeping my way to the main garden path.

It wasn't long before the kitchen door stood before me. I softly wiped the dirt off my shoes as I reached for the handle.

I abruptly paused as my breath hitched.

It was left unlocked.

After all these years, the family still hasn't quite mastered the art of remembering to lock the kitchen door.

A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I processed the fact. It was such a tiny detail, but... it was enough to make me want to tear up again.

I stood in the open doorway, staring into the dark kitchen. My legs were trembling.

I hovered in the doorway for a moment more as I tried to gather my thoughts, my emotions... Myself, essentially.

Swallowing my bitter doubts, I shakily stepped into my old home. Suddenly, the song of the wind outside wasn't enough to convince me that this wasn't a dream.

Feeling as if I were in a trance, I drifted across the floor mutely.

Despite the renovated appearance of the kitchen, everything felt the same. The scratches Virginia's old cat left on the sides of the door of the kitchen were still there, now joined by some new ones. I wondered how many more she owned after the one I knew passed.

Everything was a blur. The rooms, the thoughts, the memories, my eyes... I vaguely realized in hindsight of the ordeal that the blur might of been tears. 

Before long, I was in the dining room. I didn't even know that I walked away from the kitchen until I stood by a chair.

His chair. It was in the center of everything.

I felt my hand trace over the chair and the scratches on it. It was the same one he sat on when he placed me on his knee when I was small. The same one he prayed a blessing over the food from before every family meal. The same one he lectured us about food fights from.

The old portrait of Britain and the even older portrait of England still sat on either side of the dining room's fireplace, although they've since been vandalized. Most likely at a post-Revolutionary War party, considering the messages scrawled on the paintings.

I looked down at the long table. Yet again; it was the same, despite the two new ones joining it looking like they were made more recently. At least more recently than the 1600s.

I pulled Dad's chair out slightly and crouched down. I crawled under the table and looked up at the bottom of it.

Names. So many carvings of names. Familiar and unfamiliar.

I laid on my back and looked up at them. There was my name, right where I left it... There were carvings of flowers around it this time. That was new.

All the new names checked out with the family members that have been added since my departure. Even one that was mostly scratched out read 'Dixie.'

I crawled out from under the table and stood once more.

I don't exactly remember how I got there, but soon I was in Dad's study.

It was the same as always; bookshelves and paintings lining the walls, a nice carpet laying over the wood floor, and two seats facing Dad's dark oak desk, illuminated in the moon's glow by a large window behind his desk chair.

As always, the desk was disheveled. I remembered he always tried his best to keep it neat, but he had trouble with that when he was working.

Folders were scattered, three empty mugs were collecting dust, crumpled notes were tossed to the side...

The only thing that seemed to be in order were the two framed pictures. 

One seemed to be a recent family photo taken on the front steps of the manor, including everyone from the territories to West— Ehm, regular Germany. Getting everyone to pose for that picture must of been quite a feat.

The second was a smaller pencil drawing of all his other children who never had the chance to get in the family photo. Popham, Saybrook, West Jersey, and... You get the idea.

The room smelled faintly of vanilla and smoke. I had no idea if it was recent or not... I wondered if he ever quit smoking.

Quickly and quietly, I tidied up his office for him. I told myself going into this that I wouldn't touch anything, just look, but... I couldn't leave without showing him I still cared, even if he would have no idea that I was the one to clean up.

Softly closing the study's door as I left, there was only one last room I wanted to see before bolting; my own.

I was almost certain they turned it into something new. I couldn't help but be curious on what it might be now.

It was a stressful trip to get there. It was right in the middle of a hallway where some of my siblings' rooms were located, and I had no way of knowing who was there or not. My heart was pounding like a drum as I crept through the dangerous zone. A single noisy floorboard would be this situation's equivalent of a land mine.

Miraculously, I made it without having a heart attack. Resisting the urge to breath a sigh of relief, I turned the handle and entered the room, quietly shutting the door behind me.

I turned around and faced my small, old room. I felt my heart freeze.

I was expecting it to be storage, a sitting room, possibly a guest bedroom...

But nothing could've prepared me for it to look exactly like it did when I left it.

My wardrobe. My bed. My books.

The sight I saw before me was the same sight I saw before running away to save my family's reputation...

Unmoved. Undisturbed. Untouched. 

Almost untouched, at least. There was a fresh vase of roses left on my desk... Someone's been in here recently. 

In addition to that, a piece of paper was peaking out of one of the drawers.

Curiosity overtook me and I went over to the desk, feeling like I was floating in a hazy dream instead of walking in a very real room. I opened the drawer and felt a lump in my throat as I realized what was inside. A smell of paper filled the room.

Dad's written me letters. Hundreds of them.

'Dearest Haven.'

'Good Morning, New Haven.'

'Happy First Independence Day, Haven.'

I stumbled back ever so slightly, unable to control my surprise. 

'The Country Is Split, Haven.'

'God End Me Now, Haven.'

'The World War's Over, Haven.'

I sat at my bed, eyes darting from one random title I saw to another.

'Prohibition Sucks, Haven.'

'Haven You Would Not BELIEVE Which War's Getting a Sequel.'

'You'd Laugh At Me If You Saw Where I Was Now, Haven.'

It was the same thing he did with Poppy... With Saybrook...

'Haven, Pardon My French But Soviet's a Little B**ch.'

'AYYY! HE'S DEAD, HAVEN! :D"

'Happy Birthday, Haven (2022).'

The letters started to blur and swirl together as a heavy feeling of guilt and bitterness overwhelmed me.

He missed me. Gosh, he missed me so much.

I knew he did something similar after Popham and Saybrook died. He must of did the same thing for West Jersey and I.

It was his way of coping. Whenever Dad needed to clear his mind, I would see him writing letters to his deceased kids. He'd write them advice, updates, stories... as if they were still with him.

I felt terrible. I didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve any of this mourning. I wasn't dead. I was only hiding...

I used to be the embarrassment of my family, when I lived with them. A colony without even a mere charter. Easily pushed around by Connecticut's larger forces.

I was ashamed of myself. I hated that I embarrassed my own family's reputation, so I ran.

After a couple of decades and some desperate searching... They finally assumed me dead. 

I didn't show my face to anyone until my colors changed, when I could finally pass myself off as a new person; Connecticut's city of New Haven.

I've been living a lie for years now. The only relative I've seen since is Connecticut, who thankfully can't seem to see past my newly made appearance and mannerisms.

I was a coward. I was a filthy coward, and it resulted in me giving my father extra pain to burden over the years.

I thought he would've been relieved to get rid of the family's weakest link... What now?

I stared at the drawer filled to the brim with letters as dozens of ideas and scenarios rushed through my head.

I could tell the truth. I could go back to my family... My home, which I've longed for since leaving.

But... would they even let me back in?

I've hurt them... My Dad, at the very least. I gave them all this pointless grief. They'd be angry if I came back now, especially when I take back my role of being the family disappointment... Everyone else would be states, territories, federal districts... And what am I? Another random city of my brother's? One that isn't even the biggest? 

I can never face my family now. My return would cause more harm than good.

I love them, though... I love them to the point that it hurts. Watching them grow and flourish on the sidelines has been difficult for me, but I don't want to be selfish and go with the alternative.

I stood from my old bed, eyes locked on the letters. I was itching to take them. At least a single one. I wanted to hear what my Dad would've told me if I was around. It was the closest thing to talking to him in person I'd ever achieve now.

I felt a stab in my heart as I realized I couldn't. He might look back on his letters. One shouldn't be missing or crinkled.

I looked at them longingly as they disappeared into the desk once more as I shut the drawer.

I smelled a single whiff of the flowers (roses; Dad's favorite) before backing out of the room. Yet again; the hallway was barren of other life.

I noiselessly rushed back through the house, pushing down the memories this time. It didn't take long for me to get back to the kitchen door.

I couldn't help it. I started running.

I slammed the door behind me as I practically jumped over the garden wall. I slid off the stones this time. It seems like the clouds covering the moon before had finally started a storm.

The second I was back on my feet, I bolted. Away from the house, away from the memories, away from my family. The ground was slick, but I didn't know if I kept slipping because of the weather conditions or if the night had stressed and exhausted me to the point of my knees giving out.

I raced out the large, unlocked front gate. I raced down the road. I raced and raced until I found my car where I left it; hidden behind some bushes.

I immediately got in, started it, and sped off. The storm raged outside as I took some deep breaths to calm down. I shakily turned on the radio as I drove home.

I had a hard time finding a song that wouldn't make me break down immediately. Fed up with all the lyrics, I switched to a piano station. The slow version of New Home by Austin Farwell filled the car. Not exactly cheery, but... I guess it

With a sigh, I shook my head and drove off into the night.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

Connecticut had no idea who that shadow of a man was, or what he wanted... But he didn't seem to hurt anything. It was probably just one of his brothers, collecting something he left at the manor after a visit.

Despite agreeing with this conclusion, Connecticut lingered at the window for a while more. For whatever reason, he felt the need to... follow it... As if something precious was escaping him...

He didn't move an inch. He stayed at the window until the mystery visitor disappeared into the rain.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

I don’t want to come off as a skeptic with this question but what are your thoughts on Emily’s whereabouts. I follow her on Instagram and she’s been active almost everyday while Daryl Dixon has been filming both season 1 & 2. She posts a lot suggesting she is in LA and at her home with her dog/boyfriend. How do you justify her coming back when she’s clearly not in France. Again not trying to come off any type of way I truly trust your opinion!

For this, I just go back to examples we've had in previous seasons.

One is Khary Peyton/Ezekiel. He was filming during the regular filming season along with all the other characters. Yet, no one ever saw him. No cameras ever caught him. He was taken to set in the back of a white van with tinted windows (which incidentally Emily was seen climbing out of during the filming of missing scenes from S5) under a pile of coats, and everything he filmed was inside the studio.

The point is, he filmed everything beforehand, and it didn't leak. So, no one knew about it. When he showed up in the trailer for S7, it was a complete (and pleasant) surprise.

I think the same could be true of Emily. She may have already filmed what she needed to film long before the "official" filming of the Daryl spinoff.

Another good example to consider is 6x06, Always Accountable. All the scenes with Daryl, Dwight, and Sherry in the woods happened on the AMC lot during regular filming time. What most people don't seem to be able to wrap their heads around is that lot has acres and acres of undeveloped forest. So, they just went somewhere the cameras weren't, did all the filming, and no one was the wiser. No one caught or leaked any of that.

Emily could have done the same. Just gone some place (like literally anywhere on earth) during one of her quiet absences from IG, and done some filming. She may have even already done filming with Norman or other characters. Just because we aren't seeing her front and center in France during the other filming doesn't mean she won't appear. Tptb would take pains to be sure she could get her scenes done without anyone knowing about it. And we have countless precedents for it on this show.

I'm also still suspicious about the sale of the Georgia lot. I just felt like tptb went out of their way to show us that it was being sold, the grass was being mowed, and they wouldn't be filming there anymore.

And I'm not claiming anything one way or the other. I have no authority on anything legal to do with that. I'm just saying like it felt like a really big, purposeful distraction. Like, what if they DID sell parts of it off, so it's not a lie, but kept a lot of the back acreage. They could take all kinds of people there to film, and no one would ever see or be the wiser.

But even if I'm completely wrong on that, they could literally rent out any space that no one knew about and have Emily film.

The other really big clue we have is that Emily was actually in Paris several months before official filming began on the Daryl spinoff. She went to the Louvre and took a picture in front of the Mona Lisa. We took that as a huge symbolic clue because both of those things have been mentioned in various ways in the show, especially TWB and in describing what might happen in the Daryl spinoff.

But maybe it was more than a clue. Who's to say she didn't film some scenes in France while she was there? Because "official filming" had not begun, and most people aren't TD and don't think Emily is returning, no one was looking for that or suspecting it in the least. What a perfect time to do some clandestine filming, no?

Anyway, there are a lot of possibilities for how they're pulling this off without her being in France while the show is officially filming. Hope this helps! Xoxo! 🍁🍂❣️