#Summer Décor Ideas

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of Men at Work!

Just a note, I know I mix phonetic and Cyrillic spellings of Russian in this. Mostly it's so that people can easily translate the more complex words directly.

Content: Masturbation, very mild protective/possessive behavior

It’s becoming a problem.

You think this from the overstuffed daybed recently purchased for the explicit purpose of feeding into aforementioned problem. Not that the porch is the problem, heavens no. If so much as a nail came loose, there’s a trio of men across the street all too eager to lend their hammers and bulging, glistening muscles to fix it.

Which, conveniently, is the problem.

Their muscles, that is. And how magnanimous they are with them.

Your house is nice. New. It took them three days to fix all the issues you’d been putting off for a day you were non-reclusive enough to schedule a handyman.

Your house is too nice and too new.

You’re feeding a Vegas buffet’s worth of appetites raised on old world sensibilities with no outlet for them to be expressed. There aren’t enough squeaky hinges, crooked cabinets, stuck windows, or leaky faucets in your two-bedroom for all that… chivalry. (Or whatever Krueger has that passes for chivalry’s surly cousin.)

They’ve taken to invading earlier in the evening for busy work before dinner. Cutting vegetables, tenderizing meat, cleaning dishes, setting the goddamn table.

Like, sirs, you’re a single woman with three cats and a sham of a personal life – the last time you saw a centerpiece on a domestic dining table was Christmas at your nana’s.

Until Konig shuffled in with a fistful of sunflowers and zinnias, promising that he double-checked that they’re non-toxic to cats. You didn’t have a vase, so you had to make do with an empty mason jar you were keeping for ostensible aesthetic reasons.

Now you’ve got an ongoing bouquet, kitschy salt-and-pepper shakers shaped like lemons that no one ever uses (as if your seasoning decisions are as good as god) and are contemplating cloth napkins like some kind of… of…

“Socialite?” you muse aloud. You glance at Rasputin. He blinks slowly. “Hostess? Woman of the night?”

You’re pretty sure Agatha didn’t mean that as a compliment when you overheard her gossiping to Margot yesterday. (She should really remember that if she can eavesdrop on you from her backyard, the same is true the other way around.)

You’re toying with an idea for a new series with your last one wrapping up and your solo-novel due for release come fall. Something about a rich young woman with a wild streak and her fantastically wealthy gentlemen callers…

“Scarlet woman,” you murmur aloud, eyes on the reason for your recent porch décor purchase.

Krueger is on the roof, cloth around his head to stave off the summer heat. Doing… something with shingles and a nail gun. Your face flushes with each flex of hard muscle, jump of thick tendons. The grip he has on that thing…

As inspiring as your neighbors are, they are also a huge (in many, many ways) distraction. Hence, they are a Problem.

And not just for you. On your right, you catch the flutter of curtains from your peripheral. Lisa taking another peek – to be properly scandalized, probably. (You’re not really sure what the neighborhood biddies tell themselves when they decide something is Simply Not Proper.)

“We’ll have to start charging admission,” you muse, sipping a strawberry mojito.

Curled up far too close for the weather, Little Guy chuffs and stretches. You smooth a fingertip up his little nose, between his eyes, and over the crest of his empty head.

“Jezebel,” you mumble. He yawns, tongue curling and pearly fangs gleaming. “Trollop.”

An annoyed grunt pulls your eyes forward again. Nikto is standing halfway up the porch, one foot planted on the last step like a sexy Russian Captain Morgan. His thighs stretch his workpants oh-so-nicely. There’s a smear of white paste across the material – caulking, maybe?

(You could do with a caulking too.)

“Has someone called you these?” he asks. “Who?”

You laugh. What would he even do if someone had?

“No – well, not to my face, anyway.”

He snorts, shoots a withering scowl at Agatha’s property anyway. You spin your pen around your fingers and try not to bite your lip at the way his shirt is clinging from sweat.

“Aren’t you hot?” you fuss. “You’re going to pass out.”

“Nyet, we have been in worse,” he replies, finishing the short journey up the porch. He pauses in front of you, taking in the sight of you and your cats. What does he think, seeing you lounging about all day while he and his friends(?) are working so hard? If it’s something negative, he’s never let on.

“Still,” you insist, “have you been hydrating?”

“Da, the water runs.”

You blink, put together pieces to assume he and the others are chugging tap water (probably right from the faucet) when necessary. Well, that just won’t do now, will it?

“No, no. Hold on. Rasputin, hold him hostage.”

And like the little angel he is, Ras gets up, stretches out, and begins rubbing his face all over Nikto’s pants. With him distracted, you hop to your feet and scurry inside. The house is almost uncomfortably cool after most of your morning spent outside, but you’ll only be a moment.

There’s a large ruby pitcher waiting in the fridge from last night, complete with various berries floating at the top. You use two hands to heft it out, set it on the counter, then flit to your cabinets for the travel cups you invested in for on-the-go wine sipping. Nice and insulated.

You pour a cup for each of them, stow the pitcher away again, and carry all three in triangle-formation back outside. (Maybe you should get a tray? The antique store in town probably has something pretty and lemon-themed to match the salt and pepper shakers…)

Nikto hurries to help as soon as he sees you, plucking the extra cup from your hands.

“I saw this recipe and wanted to try it since it’s been getting hotter.”

He blinks at you, then the juice.

“You don’t have to try it now, I just thought—”

Your voice abandons you as Nikto tugs his filtration mask down. The skin beneath is warped and scarred, discolored in some places. When he raises the edge of the cup to his mouth, the skin of one cheek stretches distressingly thin. You can see the individual indents of his back molars pressing against the flesh as he drinks.

You understand why he’s been hesitant to show you; it’s not easy to look at. Which makes you all the more determined to flick your eyes back to his and ask, eagerly, “What do you think? Too sweet?”

As he swallows, throat clicking, you think you hear him grunt something.

“Hm?”

“Nyet. Not too sweet. Is good, пчела.”

You grin even though you’re not sure what it means. All three of them have some nickname in their mother tongue that you can only hope is complimentary and not because they forgot your actual name.

“Good, then I can bring some to K and K while you help me with lunch. That’s why you came by, right?”

He nods. “Nearly noon.”

“That late already!” you say. Wow, staring at hot, sweaty men really makes time fly. “Alright, I was going to make chicken wraps and latkes. Could you start peeling potatoes? You know where everything is, da?”

“Da.” He clicks his tongue, luring Rasputin in and stirring Guy awake. “Come, малышу, before we leave you out here for vultures.”

“Nikto!” you scold. “Don’t threaten him.”

“I do not threaten. It is what will happen.”

You swat at his arm, but at least Little Guy has been lured into Nikto’s reach – if by nothing else than a hand has been offered and cats are helpless to resist a good sniff. Nikto scoops him up while you turn to flounce down the stairs.

“Make sure Susan doesn’t get out!” you call over your shoulder.

She was roused by your quick turnaround to get the juice cups and will certainly be stalking the door now.

Sure enough, you faintly hear him cursing in Russian as you reach the end of the yard. Luckily, you see him closing the door with all three of your demons inside, so you continue across the street.

Krueger hasn’t noticed your approach, his back to you, so you stop at the edge of the property to watch for a moment. Yep, just as good this close, too.

“Krueger!” you call. He doesn’t turn. You huff and try again. Nothing. Christ, you’re starting to think he’s ignoring you on purpose. “Sebastian!”

His head whips around alarmingly fast and finds you right there on the ground. No need to look around at all – sometimes they remind you of their profession in the oddest ways.

“Ja, ja, no need to shout,” he replies.

You open your mouth to do just that, but he’s already scaling down from the roof. You’re stunned into silence as he slides down to the edge of the roof, catches the edge, and swings down to the ground. Lands with barely more noise than one of your footsteps. It’s quick yet so graceful.

You stare (gawk, more accurately) as he saunters up, pants sinfully low on his narrow hips.

“What did you need, bienchen?” he asks. “It is too early for lunch.”

You stutter for a second before your brain reboots.

“What was that?!” you demand, a little shriller than necessary. If you don’t shriek about this, you’re going to shriek about that gorgeous chest and the tattoos and the everything else, and you absolutely cannot do that. “That was so dangerous! You’re going to break a leg!”

“You worry,” he scoffs. He shakes his head, but there’s a wicked, knowing grin at the corners of his mouth and his eyes are far too bright. “That was a little jump.”

“It was not!”

“It only seemed big because you are so little, but it was nothing for me.”

“You’re not that much taller!”

“It is sweet to worry,” he coos, “but it is too hot for it, yes?”

You scrunch your nose at him, not sure if you’re annoyed or turned on or both. (Probably both. It’s annoying how hot he is. And how hot he knows he is.)

“If it’s so hot, then here.”

You all but shove the cup at him. He takes it with a flicker of genuine surprise, sniffs at the liquid, then takes a sip. A pleased hum rumbles in his chest, raises the temperature another few degrees.

“My mother used to make something like this,” he muses, expression softening. You blink, lean in automatically for a peck to your cheek. “Danke schön.”

“Bitte,” you mumble, mouth drier than Reggie’s garden.

His eyes crinkle, mouth hidden by the edge of the cup as he proceeds to chug the rest of it. A droplet slips down his jaw and skips down to his collarbone. You force your eyes away before you’re driven to do something irreparable by thirst.

“Is Konig inside?” you ask. “I have a cup for him, too.”

He grunts confirmation, tongue curling around a blueberry to coax it into his mouth.

Yep, alright, that’s about as much as you can take.

“Scooch, before the punch goes warm.”

“Punch?” he repeats, arching an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what it’s called in English. Punch.”

“That seems like it would cause misunderstanding.” Except he’s grinning as he says it, like he cherishes the idea of someone confusing the two words and starting a fight. Considering how often you catch him and Konig smacking at each other, that’s probably not a stretch.

“Just please don’t swing on anyone, yeah?”

“Only because you ask so nicely,” he croons.

You click your tongue at him. “Wipe off before going in, I don’t want Shithead to stink after crawling on you.”

He barks out his usual sharp laugh and tugs the cloth – his own t-shirt – off his head to mop up his sweat. You make a mental note to tease him about sunburn later as you slip past him.

You can hear Konig singing off-key upstairs when you open the door. The house is sweltering, only mildly cooler than outside with none of the fresh air. You grimace as you pause at the bottom of the stairs; the boys have warned you that it’s dangerous up there and it’s best not to go wandering.

Thankfully, it doesn’t sound like he’s using power tools at the moment.

“Konig!” you call.

“Is that you, biene?” he calls back.

You grin. “Who else would it be, huh?”

You hear his footsteps right over your head, track his gait until the first heavy boot on the stairs. He meets you at the bottom with his usual ventilator on, but he tugs it down when he sees the cup in your hand.

“Is this for me?” he asks eagerly.

“Yep! Tell me what you think!”

With none of Nikto or Kreuger’s hesitation, he knocks back a big mouthful. Licks his full lips as he lowers it, eyes bright as they land on yours.

“This is perfect,” he chirps, “so refreshing! Thank you, biene!”

You beam right back, flushed with pride that all three of them liked the recipe you “happened to find” when you saw the temperature projections for today.

“There’s more back home,” you offer, “come out of the heat.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “I will wipe off first.”

You hum agreeably, watching him slip back upstairs with great enthusiasm. Konig in a tank top and those tight cargos… summer really is delivering this year.

That evening, you sigh as you recline across your huge bed, naked and cooling off with the night breeze rolling through your window. Ras and Shithead are happily distracted wrestling each other in your forgotten towel, and Little Guy is snoozing on his personal pillow.

You stretch out, feeling a bit decadent and indulgent with moonlight spilling over your body, and let your hands wander. It’s not the high-efficiency sleep-oriented wank you usually rush through, not this time.

You unspool memories of the day with each brush of your fingertips over moisturized skin. You hum as your skin tingles, imagining Konig’s calloused palms in place of yours. He’d be so surprisingly gentle, you’re sure. Big, strong hands but he’d play with you like a precious toy. Plucking your nipples and scratching his blunt nails over the plush of your hips.

As your breathing picks up, you see Krueger’s broad shoulders flexing behind your eyelids. Imagine them bullying between your thighs, hooking your knees over. That bright glint in his eye as he smirks against your cunt. Can practically feel the curl of his tongue around your clit, eating you out messy and mean.

You’re already halfway there when you curl two fingers into your pussy. You’re so wet that your fingers slip and slide, squelch lewdly as you rock your hips, trying to find just the right angle.

You imagine Nikto clicking his tongue at your struggle. Almost hear his low, hoarse voice chiding you for doing his job while he takes over. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, you have to press a third in just to maintain the fantasy.

You want to lean back against his broad chest while he strokes your walls, listen to him and Krueger and Konig talk about you like you’re not even there, debating if you should come. Ignore you as you beg and whimper, big hands pinning you down while they draw it out.

Please, please, please…

You clap a hand over your mouth just in time, hips jerking so hard that it makes your wrist ache.

Whoops.

Well, you doubt anyone heard. It’s pretty late, and you’re on the second story anyway.

Already sleepy, you’re too lazy to close the window after a pre-bed stop in the restroom. It’s such a nice night, after all.

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Masterlist

[starlightandsouls]

Yours To Have, Yours to Break

Summary: What if instead of Nesta, Cassian found out about Azriel and his secret lover. What will happen when the hearty general, in his anger of being left out, causes his brother's happiness to fall apart? How will he atone for his mistake?

A/N: Of course I had to make my comeback with the angstiest angst to ever angst. And that too by turning my fluffiest fic into pure pain. I guess you can say that this this is a spin off of Yours to Keep and Cherish. Also... I know I dropped off the face of the earth but life happens guys. I'm sorta back and here's a fic to make up for it.

Disclaimer: If you're an Elain fan, I would recommend you not read this. I would hate to ruin your day. I do not hate Elain. This is just an idea I got from all the soap dramas I've been seeing recently. Don't kill me please.

Also this shit and not edited. But I was so desperate to post something that I honestly don't care. Hope y'all like it. And yes there will be a part 2

Cassian POV:

As the General of the Night Court’s armies, Cassian had many duties: training soldiers, commandeering battalions at the borders, coming up with war strategies, buying romance novels for his mate and her friends. He wasn’t sure when the last one made its way on his list of responsibilities, or who put it there, but there it was. And who was Cassian to deny his mate?

So that’s how the Lord of Bloodshed found himself standing aimlessly in the middle of the Rainbow, scratching his head, with a list in his hand. Nesta had sent him off to find the newest edition of a Sellyn Drake novel but he hadn’t the slightest idea where to find it. His mate had instructed him to visit a particular bookshop named “The Quill”, being sure that they would have the newest book. Unfortunately, because luck had named him its nemesis at birth, the bookshop was closed for the day. He had asked around and apparently the owner had just left an hour prior to his arrival. Of course, they had.

That is why he had been wandering around the Rainbow, walking into one bookshop after the other, but somehow not one of them had the book Nes wanted. What are the odds of that? How is it possible that only one bookshop in the entire city had this specific book? And why did it have to be closed today? Cassian knew returning empty handed would not only incur the wrath of his beloved mate, but also her Valkyrie sisters. And given the fact that he himself had been teaching them some new disarming techniques, he had no desire to become their training dummy.

While he did not intend on stopping his hunt, he was quite parched. As the summer season approached, afternoons in Velaris became increasingly sweltering. A chilled glass of wine would do just the trick to cool him down, and also relax his nerves. Just as he was deciding on which bar to stop at, he remembered a conversation he had had with Mor the other day. She had told him about a café she had discovered that served the best margaritas during lunch time. Honestly, she hadn’t stopped raving about it for almost a week. What the hell. He was already out in town, might as well try a new place. If it turned out to be good, he could bring Nesta to placate her in case he couldn’t find her book.

Mind made up, he took off to the air, the subtle breeze as he did so, instantly making him feel better. Gliding through the clouds, the twists and turns with wind, were always a guaranteed way of cooling down.

Said café was perched on a hill overlooking the Sidra. He took in the view and the lush gardens outside the café as he landed, and started to walk in. The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior; the décor a blend of elegance and coziness. Oh yeah, he was definitely bringing Nesta here for a date.

He had just given his order to a waitress who looked way too giddy writing it down. Thank the Mother Nesta wasn’t here. Or someone might as well have lost a hand.

Although this is one of the reasons why he didn’t like coming to restaurants and bars alone. Not having company meant he didn’t have anyone to share his stories and jokes with. So, as he waited for his order to arrive, he sat back and took in the people around him; a habit that looked casual enough but was one instilled in him during his years training in the Illyrian camps.

He had been admiring the view from the balcony in the corner when his order arrived. Smiling a thank you, he took a sip from his margarita and damn was it good as Mor had said. He made a silent note to himself to thank her for the recommendation. He was in the middle of another deliciously cold sip, when something caught his eye in the corner of the room, causing him to choke.

What. The. Fuck.

Cassian was sure he looked like a blubbering fish with how his jaw dropped open and his eyes bulged out their sockets. He had to be dreaming or hallucinating from the heat. Yes, that must have been it, the heat had surely gotten to his head. For Cassian could think of no other explanation for the sight in front of him.

His brother, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court, torture extraordinaire, was sitting hand in hand with a beautiful young woman, smiling like a love-sick fool and… eating macarons? Since when did Azriel like deserts? Or the more pressing question: who the hell was he sitting with? Cassian knew his brother liked to keep his lovers secret, but deep down his gut told him this was no mere fling, or one-night stand. For starters, Azriel was smiling like a puppy drunk on love, while bringing the lady’s hand up to his lips to kiss. Cauldron. Just as Cassian had somewhat stopped gawking like a fish out of water, he saw the lady lean over and whisper something across the table, causing Azriel to throw his head back and let out a hearty laugh.

Although he couldn’t explain why, but at that moment Cassian felt a sharp hurt go through him. For he could not remember the last time Azriel had laughed like that with them. Damn it, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen Azriel smile nearly as much as was doing now at any family function.

Before he could even begin to process what had unfolded before him, he saw Azriel pay the bill for their food and the couple walked out hand in hand. Immediately Cassian was on his feet, ready to follow them. If someone had asked him why he did what he did at a later moment, he would not have been able to explain himself. At that moment, Cassian was driven only by curiosity and a minor note of hurt too-why had his brother hid this from them?

Rushing out after paying the bill, Cassian saw the happy couple walk down the cobblestone path, once again arm in arm, with the woman leaning against Azriel. Another thing that shocked Cassian: how the hell had Azriel not noticed him by now? Those pesky little shadows normally informed his brother of every detail of his surroundings; Azriel’s own heightened senses and observational skills were what made him the Spymaster of this court. So, for him to not notice Cassian so obviously trailing behind them at a distance, was a testament to how captivated his brother was by the woman on his arm.

At one-point Cassian thought that his brother would winnow with his partner and he would lose them, but the couple continued their stroll without a care in the world. He continued to trail behind them while also maintaining somewhat of a distance. Azriel may not be as hyper vigilant as always, but he wasn’t blind by any means- and Cassian was no small man either.

“Breakfast was delightful, darling. We should plan another afternoon here, what do you think?” he heard the woman comment.

“Of course, but I am oh so very tired. I think I need a few days alone at home with my nightingale to recharge,” Azriel replied with a smirk.

Cassian balked on the inside: okay Mr. I Don’t Need To Resort To Poetry.

“We could always have breakfast here again on Saturday. It is our two-year anniversary, and I intend on spending the day however my nightingale wishes. I think the café can be a brilliant start to our day,” Azriel offered, laughing as the woman swatted his arm at the previous comment.

Reaching the end of the path, Azriel grabbed the woman in his arms and winnowed away, leaving behind a thoroughly perplexed Cassian.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Cassian was convinced he must have stood there for another half an hour before coming to his senses. He then took off to the House of Wind, ready to face his mate and the Valkyries’ collective wrath. And his assumption had been right; the three women had blown up when they saw him return empty handed and had proceeded to go on twenty-minute-long rant. For the life of him, Cassian could not have repeated a single word they had said. Because he had not listened to a single word, at least not while paying attention. As their rage had quelled, Cassian had simple gotten up and walked to his room, ignoring the questioning looks from his mate.

While Nesta was still in the library with the girls, Cassian had retreated to bed. And that is where he was now: sitting in bed, staring at a wall, completely at a loss for words. He could not even begin to process what he had seen, let alone understand what he was feeling. For some reason he could not get over how openly Azriel had laughed with that woman, how alight his eyes had seemed. It was as if the Shadowsinger was glowing with happiness, as paradoxical as that sounds.

And it’s not like Cassian wasn’t happy for his brother-quite the contrary. He was just hurt that Azriel had chosen to hide something like this from him for two years. Two years. The words clanged around his head like the sharp tolling of a bell. Azriel had this from them for two goddamn years. And he had a sinking feeling that if he had not discovered the two of them today, he would not have found out for quite some more time.

But why? Keeping casual flings a secret was no big deal. They all had had ventures they didn’t tell anyone, he was sure of it. But if the couple were celebrating their two-year anniversary, then it must be serious. Cassian could tell his brother was committed just by how he had been looking at the woman. And if Azriel truly was serious about this woman, why would he hide it from them? His family?

That is the part that pierced his heart. Up until this day, Cassian had thought the two of them to be rather close. Sure, Rhys and Az clashed from time to time because of their own attitudes, but he liked to think that Azriel and him had always been close. Azriel was his best friend for Cauldron sake. Whenever he had had issues with Nesta at the beginning of their relationship-and he had plenty- Azriel had been his confidante, the one he went to for advice. His brother had been there for him at the highs and lows of his journey with Nesta.

So why hadn’t he let Cassian do that for him? Why had his brother chosen secrecy when he could have confided in Cassian? It’s not like he wouldn’t have supported them. He knew his brother was secretive and shy, but it was one thing to hide things about his work and another to choose to hide such a major part of his life from his brothers.

They were brothers, they were supposed to support each other, to stand by one another, not keep secrets and tell lies. All of a sudden Cassian saw the past two years in a different light. He recalled all the times Azriel had shown up to breakfast with an unusually cheery mood, all the times he had been rushing to leave family dinner, all the times he had skipped their get togethers with the strangest excuses. How long had this been going on? And for how long had they been so painfully oblivious?

Did Azriel not trust them? No, that can’t be it. Did Azriel think he could not open up to them? Each explanation he came up with seemed less plausible than the last. As he continued to spiral, Cassian began to question whether the two were as close as he thought them to be.

Why. Why. Why.

“You know if you stare at the wall any longer, you’re going to burn a hole into it.”

Nesta. He hadn’t even noticed when she had come into the room, and judging by her amused look, Cassian assumed she had been there for some time. Pushing off the wall she had been leaning against, Nesta walked over and sat by him on their bed.

“I’ve been calling your name for the past five minutes, where’s your mind at?” Nesta asked while pushing some stray strands of hair behind his ear.

Shit. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just tell Nesta something he himself wasn’t supposed to know. If he hadn’t walked into that café by chance, Cassian would have been none the wiser about this whole situation. For whatever reason Azriel was keeping his relationship secret, he didn’t think it his place to reveal it.

“It’s nothing, Nes. Just thinking about Wind Haven. I’m supposed to head up there next week and I already know Devlon’s going to be a pain in the ass,” Cassian tried to divert.

“Since when have you started getting so worked up over Devlon? He’s going to whine and throw a fit, but ultimately he is going to have to do what you say. You’re worried about something else. What is it?” his ingenious mate inquired. How her intuition was so good he’d never know, honestly sometimes he thought of handing over the mantle of General to her, with how good she was.

“C’mon. You know you can tell me whatever is bothering you,” Nesta pushed while grabbing his hand in her own and damn did he melt at that.

“Alright. If I tell you, you cannot tell anyone else.”

Nesta sat up straighter at that, ears perked with curiosity, eyes wide open and eager.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Nesta answered while nodding.

“I’m serious about this Nes. You can’t tell anyone, not even Emerie or Gwyn. No one,” Cassian reiterated, trying to get his mate to understand how serious it was.

“Alright, alright. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

Cassian sighed before revealing what was very much not his secret to reveal,

“Azriel has a girlfriend.”

“Wait-what?”

“Az has a girlfriend,” Cassian repeated.

“No, I heard you the first time. But…how…when??? Why hasn’t he told anyone?”

“I have no idea, Nes,” Cassian replied while falling back against the headboard. He once again took to staring at the wall; confusion and hurt running rampant through him again, echoing the same question again and again.

Why had Azriel kept this a secret from them? From him?

“When did he tell you?” his mate inquired.

“He didn’t,” Cassian chuckled, “I stopped at that new café by the Sidra to get some drinks to cool down while I was out for your books. I saw them together there.”

A beat of silence passed between them before Nesta barged on with her questions,

“You seem…upset about all this?”

“I am. Not at the fact that he has a girlfriend, Cauldron no. It’s about time the idiot found someone. It’s just…why didn’t he tell us? Why keep it a secret?”

“Maybe…it’s new? You know Az. Maybe he just wants some time to figure things out himself before he tells you all,” Nesta reasoned.

Cassian let out a bitter laugh before spitting out,

“It is very much not new. The two were planning their two year anniversary at the same restaurant this weekend. Two goddamn years, Nes. He’s been lying to us for that long.”

He wrenched his hand from hers at that. Cassian knew he was being unfair and unreasonable, but he was angry. Maybe he had no right to be but one does not think clearly when in the clutches of fury.

As his previous confusion and hurt settled, they left behind only anger in their wake. That is what he felt right now. Anger. At Azriel, for lying to them all this time, for hiding something so significant. Did he not consider them brothers?

Before he could succumb to the ravages of anger, his darling mate was there to pull him back, as she always did.

“I can feel all that you know. Don’t let your anger override what you know to be true. This relationship of Azriel…it has nothing to do with us. We’re not entitled to anything regarding it just because we’re his family.”

“Oh so what I’m just supposed to ignore the fact that he’s been lying to us about his whereabouts and plans for the past two years, when he could have just told us?”

“No I am asking you to trust Azriel. You know your brother, Cass, probably more than anyone else. You know that he has a reason for everything he does and you know that he would never do anything to hurt his family intentionally. If nothing else, trust in that.”

Cassian sighed a defeated sigh. His mate was right, as she always was. For whatever reason Azriel had decided to keep this relationship a secret, Cassian would have to trust in it. And when the time came, he hoped his brother would feel comfortable revealing the truth himself.

……………………………………..................................................

Little did Cassian know, that despite the fact that he had made Nesta swear not to tell Azriel’s secret, he had unintentionally revealed it to a third. For outside their bedroom clutching books she had meant to return, stood Elain. Elain, who had almost torn the books with how hard she was clutching them. Elain, who’s hands quivered with rage.

This is why Azriel had been ignoring her. All these months she had been trying to get his attention and he had always slipped away. Because of this?? Some common girlfriend?

No matter. Elain would get him back. How could he ignore her for some commoner? Who deserved his love more than her?

As she walked away, already planning her schemes, a wicked thought went through her mind, a precaution in case she couldn’t convince Azriel:

If I can’t have him, no one can.

...............................................................................................

Azriel POV:

The past few days had been the happiest he had ever been. Although Azriel wasn’t quite sure how fair that judgement was. Each hour he spent with his nightingale, he deemed his happiest. And it has been two years of such blissful happiness. Two years together at each other’s side that they were celebrating today.

He had already arrived at the same café they had breakfast a few days ago and was now anxiously awaiting his beloved girlfriend. Honestly, he would have preferred that the two arrive together, not wanting to spend a minute away from his nightingale. But alas, not everything had to be as he wished. As soon as she had woken up, his nightingale had slipped out from his arms (something he had still not forgiven) and had rushed to her book shop. According to her, she had some urgent delivery that she just had to be there for. Therefore she had promised him that she would meet him directly at the café.

That left him, sitting in their favorite spot in the café, with his head swiveling to the door every time it opened, hoping his nightingale had arrived. It wasn’t like she was late, it’s just that he too early, wanting what he hoped would be a great start to a celebration filled day.

“Oh, Azriel!”

He heard his name be called, but his heart instantly dropped, that voice did not belong to his nightingale. Turning around he saw…

“Elain? What are you doing here?”

“What a coincidence, Az! I was just out for some errands and thought I would get myself a drink. I’m absolutely parched! Thank the Cauldron for this lovely café!” Elain replied in an unusually high pitched voice.

“Yes, how lovely…” he trailed off, gaze flicking to the door. He knew his girlfriend would be arriving soon and he would much rather Elain not be here for that… for a plethora of reasons.

“Well, what are the chances of meeting you here Az? And look, you’re alone too! Why don’t we have lunch together, it feels like we haven’t caught up in forever.”

“Actually I’m meeting some…”

He never got to finish his sentence. If someone asked him later what happened, Azriel wasn’t sure he would be able to explain it. One second Elain was smiling at him, trying to grab his hand, the next her gaze turned cold, flicking to something behind him. The next thing he knew, within a matter of seconds, Elain had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and smashed her lips to his.

What. The. Fuck.

Azriel didn’t even process what had happened, didn’t even realize that she was kissing him. Elain. Was. Kissing. Him.

The last thought jolted him out of his state of shock and he pushed her away. Not caring for who saw or heard, he yelled,

“What the fuck Elain? You can’t just grab people like that! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Oh c’mon Az. It was barely a peck. I had barely begun to enjoy it,” Elain replied with a callous smirk.

All of a sudden he did not recognize her; he didn’t recognize the cruelty in her eyes, the indifference in her expression. Where was the kind hearted woman he considered a friend? And who was standing in front of him in her place? When he didn’t say anything, still riddled with shock, Elain continued,

“Well no matter. It may have been short but it achieved it’s purpose,” Elain replied slyly. She inched closer and grazed her hand up his arm and whispered, “if you want to continue, I would gladly indulge you, Azriel.”

He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with her, why she was doing this, in a crowded café no less. But Azriel was way too uncomfortable to try to find out. He wrenched his arm away from her and was about to give her a piece of his mind when he saw it again: Elain’s gaze flickering to something behind him with a wicked smirk on her face. One of victory.

Hoping against hope it wasn’t what he feared it was, Azriel turned around. And it was like time itself had stopped. For there, at the entrance of the café, with tears streaming down her face, stood his girlfriend, his nightingale. A millennia could pass and Azriel would not forget the raw pain, the betrayal shining in her eyes amidst the tears.

No. No. No. No. No. This is not happening. This cannot be happening.

He took one step toward her, to explain, to make her understand he had no fault in what she had seen. But before he could, his nightingale turned around and left the café.

Not knowing what to do, Azriel followed after her to see her almost running away from him.

“Love! Please! Listen to me, its not what it looks like,” Azriel begged, anguish lacing every word.

“Oh please Azriel. Do you know how typical you sound right now?” He did, Cauldron he did. But she had to understand…

“Darling I would never hurt you like that. I don’t even know why she was there… or how… but you have to understand… she kissed me! I pulled away… I would never do that to you,” Azriel let out. He knew his fragmented thoughts probably didn’t make much sense. But panic and fear were making it difficult to come up with something cohesive.

“Really, Azriel? You don’t know what she was doing there?! For Cauldron sake, Azriel! I know you called her there. You know, if you wanted to break up with me, you should have done it yourself like a man. You didn’t have to use her for it!” his nightingale spat at him.

What? Break up with her? Break up with the one blessing the Mother had bestowed upon him? What the hell was she talking about?

“Love… I don’t…”

“You don’t what? Huh? Have any need for me anymore? Well you don’t have to worry about me getting in the way, please go enjoy your life with your darling Elain?” His girlfriend yelled, throwing out Elain’s name like it was poison.

Vaguely he sensed Elain coming up behind them. How did she catch up with them? His love spat out a wry laugh, before saying,

“Look, she’s here to get you Azriel. Go be with your love.”

Before he could refute it, Elain jumped in,

“Its okay, Azriel. I told her everything. She’s not in the way anymore. We can be together now!”

“Elain, have you lost your mind? What the hell are you doing? Why are you doing this? You-”

“Cut the act Azriel. Go. Enjoy your life.”

And with that his nightingale walked away for good, taking the shattered pieces of his heart and soul with her.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Azriel stood in that spot like a blubbering fish for Cauldron knows how long. He was smarter than this. He was quicker than this. He knew that. But for some reason his mind felt addled, like it was submerged in some murky fog. He couldn’t think straight for some reason.

What the fuck had just happened? Did it truly happen? No, it had to be a nightmare. It had to be. He didn’t just lose the love of his life. He didn’t. He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Azriel had almost convinced himself of his own delusion, when Elain’s rustling snapped him out of his daze. The woman had the gall to walk away after everything she just did. Not so fast. He grabbed her by the arm and yelled in her face, propriety and etiquette long forgotten,

“WHAT THE FUCK ELAIN? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO?”

She wrenched her arm back and held her head up high when responding, as if she just had just committed some honorable deed,

“I did what I had to. You were never there Azriel. I always tried to talk to you… but you were never there. And to find out that it’s because of her! Some commoner! I couldn’t bear it. But she’s not here anymore, Azriel, we can be together!”

“What?! Are you hearing yourself Elain? I don't love you! Not like that, I never have-”

“BUT I LOVE YOU! WHY ISN’TTHAT ENOUGH!” Elain screamed back.

“You’re out of your mind. You… how did you even find out?”

“Cassian told me,” Elain replied calmly, her demeanor immediately changing. There was something seriously wrong with her.

But her words were what caused his world to stop spinning.

“What?”

“Cassian told me. He saw the two of you together the other day and told me that I would find you here today as well.”

His mind was reeling. Cassian knew too? How? He had been so careful with everything? How had it slipped past him so easily?

Elain patted his shoulder one last time before saying,

“We’re meant to be together, Azriel. I love you so much that I’ll ignore this commoner you were sullying yourself with. She might have left you. But I’m always here for you with open arms.”

And then Elain left, simply and quietly. As if she had not sentenced Azriel to a life without the one happiness he had salvaged for himself in this cruel world.

..........................................................................................

Cassian POV:

Cassian had been sharpening his blades in the training arena, waiting for the Valkyries to arrive, when he felt the wards shift. Someone had winnowed in. Before he could question who it was, he saw Azriel standing at the entrance.

Despite Nesta’s words, his immediate reaction at seeing his brother was one of annoyance. He doubted Azriel was here to confess so the continuing secrecy bothered him even now.

Any rant or anger that Cassian was planning on letting out, disappeared as he neared his brother. Azriel had tears streaming freely down his face, shoulders shaking from the sobs.

“How could you?”

Was all his brother let out. Cassian was at a complete loss for words. His brave stoic brother was falling apart before him and Cassian knew neither cause nor cure. His lion hearted brother who had bared five centuries of pain and trials and had never let out even a wince. And now… It seemed like something was tearing Azriel apart into shreds.

“Az, what’s wrong? I-

“How could you?” Azriel repeated, his sobs getting more and more violent. And each falling tear fell like acid on Cassian’s heart. All previous annoyance was replaced by an overwhelming urge to soothe and comfort.

“How could you? What did I ever do to you?” Azriel cried out again.

“Az… brother… I have no idea…”

“Oh don’t act stupid. Don’t act like you don’t know about my girlfriend!”

Oh. That is what this was about? Azriel knew that he knew? But why was he so upset about it? Cassian didn’t think him finding out warranted such a reaction-

“You knew and you send Elain there to ruin everything!”

What? Elain? What did she have anything to do with this?

“You ruined everything! My nightingale… she’s gone… she won’t even talk to me… She won’t look at me… And it’s all your fault!” Azriel let out in between hiccups of tears.

Cassian knew he had to intervene before Azriel spiraled into a full panic attack.

“Brother, calm down. Alright, yes I saw the two of you at the café, but I only told Nesta, I swear on it. I have no idea what you’re talking about, or what Elain has to do with anything.”

Azriel moved further away from him. The utter betrayal shining in his eyes made Cassian want to bury himself in the darkest corner of the world. He did not know what his fault was but he was ready to spend eternity atoning for it if it meant Azriel would no longer be in the pain he was so clearly in.

“DO NOT LIE TO ME!” Azriel roared, leaving Cassian stunned, “ You did this! You couldn’t bear it, could you? You couldn’t stand the fact that I was happy so you sent Elain to ruin everything. You always do this, you always have to take everything away from me!”

Before Cassian could ask for an explanation or beg for forgiveness for a crime he did not know, Azriel had winnowed away.

Alone, his mind was working on overdrive. What did Elain have to do with anything? Cassian was no fool. He had long been aware of the youngest Archeron sister’s affections for his brother. But he also knew his brother had never reciprocated those affections, had always seen Elain as nothing more than a friend.

How did she know about Azriel’s relationship? Nesta could not have told her. Despite how close the two sisters were, his mate had sworn to him and he knew Nesta enough to know that she did not go back on an oath. Had Elain somehow overheard them? And if she had, what could she possibly have done to cause Azriel so much pain?

So many questions were whirring through his head, not one of them had a coherent answer. But amidst the chaos, a singular thought rang the loudest, and it was one that pierced Cassian’s heart:

What have I done?

[simmervlogs]

Wentworth Manor

Hello Simmers, get ready for a game of Beer Pong at the Wentworth Manor . A former family home converted into a Fraternity. This is a requested build which I was so excited to do! I would also like to say a massive thank you to all you guys for your support- we just hit 8k on Tiktok!

Fraternities have been impacted by the increase of off-campus housing starts in recent years. The Wentworth's examined their existing house and determined that for them to remain competitive, they needed to upgrade and increase their common amenity space.

In this area, most houses were built in the 1920s and early ’30s, affording a certain unity in design and volume, although many were altered in the post-war years. Most followed one of two architectural styles of the period—Collegiate Tudor/Gothic or Georgian Revival. This property includes a spacious foyer, 5 bedrooms, large bathroom, traditional kitchen, entertainment room, library and a casual living and dinning room. Th backyard also accommodates for a pool and deck for outdoor cooking. While majority of the features have been maintained by the Wentworth's, each student is more than free to decorate their own spaces as they see fit.

Would also like to say thank you to @alexissimsblog for her idea and name!

Please note almost everything is CC and the items were not created by me! Please do support and directly download from all the creators mentioned! I have attached the CC folders convenience ONLY.

Laundry Day, High School Years, Discover University and Bust the Dust kit required for items I have included from the game, CC as well as some recolors included in the folder (function as a frat house).

There are CC items which are not included- please download these separately!

Utopya- Pool table

Bbygyal123- Martini, corkboard

Joyce- Simple living (all), Forever autumn (all), Summer garden (all)

Sixam- Home office (all), Private school (all), Lavant bathroom (all), Rustin Art studio (all), Home improvement (all)

AFS- all (alcohol décor)

Taurus Design- Judith living room (all)

Harrie- Coastal (all), Country (all), Spoons (all), Octave (all), Brownstone (all), Shop the look (all), Halycon (all), Kichen 2.0 (all), Orjanic (all)

House of Harlix- Jardane (all), Livin Rum, Harluxe (all), Baysic (all)

Felixandre- Grove (all), Colonial (all), Goth revival (all), Berlin (all), Florence (all), Shop the look (all), Chateau (all), Georgian (all), Fayun (terrain), Soho (all), Paris (all)

Valia- Baker's collection (all)

Tuds- Cross (all), Ind (all), NCTR (all)

Awingedllama - Boho living

CharlyPancakes- Sleepyhead (all), Soak (all), Smol (all), Lighthouse (all), Lavish (all)

Myshunosun- Art room (all),Garden stories Patio (all), Simmify Guitar, Dawn living

Max20- Garden at home, Southern Bedroom

Peacemaker- Hinterlands (all), Hudson bathroom (all)

Pierisim- Stefan (all), Tidying up (all), Pantry Party (all), Domaine Du Clos (all), MCM (all), Coldbrew (all), Auntie Vera Bathroom (all), Oak house (all), Woodland Ranch (all), Combles (all), David's apartment (all), Winter Garden (all), Unfold (all), The office (all), Outside (all), Precious Promise (all)

SYB- Highschool (all), Cheap & Chipped (all), Alaferme (all), Happy Stairways (all), Oh la la (all), Loce is in the air (all), Attic (all), Painter Studio (all), Plouf (all), Loft (all), Life Bathroom

Dust Bunny- Laundry (all)

ClassicPixels -Ralph Lauren Throw pillows

Lilli's Place- Folklore (all)

MROLKAN- Pool recolours

Do check out my Tiktok, live almost everyday building!

INSTRUCTIONS

Please directly move all the files in CC zip folder to your Mods folder.

Please move  Tray files (Tray files folder) to your Tray folder (enable bb.moveobjects on).

Gallery ID-  SimmerVlogs (Enable CC)

TikTok- simmervlogs

Note-  I have placed this down in Brindleton Bay (40x40 lot)

Thank you once again to all CC creators!

DOWNLOAD (Patreon)

[seokstrivia]

Written In Pages

Summary: Sometimes, it’s for the best, 

Work!AU | KHH M.List | Word count: 2.4K

Boss Christian Yu x Writer Reader - angst, old feelings, exes, new love vs old love, drama(?)

After slamming your laptop shut for the umpteenth time, you groaned in irritation and took the last sip of your wine.

Your dream job was to write articles for a magazine, specifically inspiring stories about everyday life situations. You disliked writing about new cafes and hotspots to visit in Seoul, South Korea on a hot summer day. Your boss, Christian Yu, was someone you despised.

You let out a sigh as you leaned back on your couch, feeling exhausted from working for long hours and staring at a bright screen. Despite the fatigue, you were able to enjoy the peacefulness of your apartment which was quietly enveloped by the sound of light rain tapping against the tall windows that offered a view of the brightly lit city at night. The cityscape was a sight to behold, with buildings and cars stretching out as far as the eye could see, and you found it captivating.

It felt surreal.

You struggled with the idea of writing this article for a while, but now, as it is almost 3 am, you just want to finish it and move on, without having to worry about it anymore.

You worked tirelessly on your article all night, only the clicking of your keyboard keeping you company. As the sky began to lighten just before 5 am, you finally completed your 12th and hopefully final draft. After sending it to your boss, you collapsed into your bed, exhausted.

—>

“Wow, you look like shit.”

“Shut up, Dabin,” you scowled while you pointed a pen at him, almost as if threatening to hurt him if he said another word. “I was up late working on an article.”

“Again?”

As you nodded your head, a yawn escaped your lips, but Dabin didn't seem too impressed. He was aware of your writing skills, and he knew that Ian, his best friend, also recognized your talent. Despite this, Ian never allowed you to demonstrate your best writing abilities.

It annoyed him.

“Do you want me to speak to...“

“No,” you cut him off knowing exactly what he was going to ask. It was his favourite question. “It’s fine.”

Dabin suspiciously leaned over you, face a lot closer than you were comfortable with, and stared into your eyes as if they had a different answer to the one you’d given him.

It made you laugh.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” you genuinely smiled as you pushed his face away from yours.

The two of you discussed where to go for lunch and what you were in the mood for, which varied daily.

“Y/N, can I see you in my office?”

The sudden voice behind you caused you to drop the smile on your face. You quickly locked eyes with Dabin before shifting to see your boss standing behind you.

Ian didn't give you time to respond to his question since he was already on his way back to his office. His strides were long and swift as you hurriedly followed behind.

A sigh escaped your lips as you thought about all the terrible things he might say about the draft you sent just a few hours ago.

Christian's office exuded a sense of sophistication and elegance with its predominantly black theme. The black furniture and décor complemented the black walls, creating a sleek and modern atmosphere. The aesthetic aligned perfectly with Christian's personal style, which is characterized by his sharp black suits, crisp white shirts, and multiple decorated tattoos. Overall, the office was a reflection of Christian's impeccable taste and attention to detail.

There’s no denying that he was a handsome man. 

“Do you enjoy working here?”

His voice was firm and almost intimidating, but it was nothing that you weren't accustomed to.

“Ye—“

“Answer me honestly,” he interrupted.

An exasperated sigh escaped your lips as he once again failed to listen.

It was annoying. 

You gazed out of the window, avoiding eye contact as the rain poured heavily over the city. It was ironic that you had just written an article on what to do on a hot summer day.

“Y/N—“

"Ian," you sighed, interrupting him as he had interrupted you earlier. "I don't hate working here, and I want you to know that. I genuinely enjoy the people and the work that I do. But it feels like you never give me a fair chance to show you how good I am, or how much I love being here."

As you stood up, your eyes met Christian's dark and mysterious ones. You never really understood him, as he always kept his distance. Even when you were dating, he never let you get too close.

His eyes reminded you of the heartbreak you felt when he told you he needed to focus on work and being a boss. There was no sadness or remorse in his expression. He was emotionless.

You subconsciously took a step back as he took one towards you, both caught off guard. You were afraid of falling for him again, especially after the pain he had caused you.

“I think maybe I should find another company to write for.”

“No.”

“Ian—“

“Y/N,” his voice was stern. Cold. “I said no.”

A deep chuckle reverberated in his office. You stepped back and crossed your arms, "It's not up to you. I can do what I want."

He knew you were right, but he didn't want you to leave. He had already given you up once.

Here's a clearer version of the text:

"Will you stay if I let you write your own story?" he asked, trying to offer a bribe.

"Why?" you questioned him, catching him off guard. He had hoped that you would just say yes and leave it at that.

There was an uncomfortable silence as he stood his ground, looking at you intently, but he didn't offer an explanation.

He was being stubborn.

After a while, you looked away from him and said, "I'll stay. See you around, Mr. Yu."

Christian watched as you left his office. He let you walk away.

Again.

—>

It was another late night in the office. Ian had finally given you the green light to write your own story - something exciting, new, and inspiring. However, you were struggling to come up with an idea. You didn't have any unique experiences to discuss, except for your own heartache and the pain you had gone through, along with the emotions you had felt.

It had been more than a year since Ian had broken up with you. Now, you were in a much better place emotionally, and seeing him around the office didn't hurt as much as it did when the wound was still fresh.

Your experience of getting over a breakup could serve as a source of inspiration for many individuals out there who may be going through the same thing. You could write about how you coped with the situation and be honest in your narrative. The idea is to make your readers relate to you and feel that they are not alone in the world and that going through a breakup is a common experience that everyone faces at least once in their lifetime.

As you were lost in thought, a voice interrupted you, asking "How are you getting on?"

You glanced up to see Dabin holding a box of fried chicken and a pack of four beers. You couldn't help but smile as your stomach growled in hunger. You were grateful for your best friend's arrival.

"Thank god for you," you exclaimed, feeling much better now. "I'm starving."

The two of you were quick to get settled into the couches in the staff room; away from computers and cubicles and depressing grey walls.

"This is delicious," you moaned as you took another bite.

Dabin laughed in return, "I'm glad I can help during times like this."

Dabin was a really good friend.

"So, how's your writing coming along?" He asked.

"Fine."

Nodding his head, he asked, "what's it about?"

You took a sip of your drink before turning to face Dabin. It was obvious what he was doing.

"You can let Ian know the article's content will be revealed in my final draft, okay?"

"How did you know I was asking for him?"

You lay back on the couch, sighing as your eyes stared at the plain white ceiling. Dabin followed suit, resting his shoulder neatly against yours.

It was quiet.

There was nobody else in the building except for the two of you. Normally, nobody stayed back late. However, you enjoyed staying late because of the peaceful and quiet atmosphere. The lights would turn off automatically on a timer, leaving you with a breath-taking view of Seoul from above.

Being on the top floor definitely had its perks.

"He didn't want to end things with you, but he had no choice. He misses you," Dabin finally spoke.

You avoided eye contact and stated, "Everyone has a choice."

You were in a three-year relationship with Ian before he broke up with you. As time went on, your love for him grew stronger and you were convinced that he was the one.

But no.

On a frigid winter night, he arrived at your doorstep and broke up with you. Declaring that his work was his priority and that he wanted to become a boss his father could be proud of.

So, he married his job instead.

It was a horrible experience that left you feeling utterly shattered. A heavy weight seemed to sit on your chest, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake off the feeling. You cried yourself to sleep that night, and dealing with the aftermath was so difficult that you had to take a month off work. Seeing him again was too much to bear after feeling so broken.

"I thought he was the one, Dabin," you expressed. "But after he broke up with me, I realized that I didn't really know him. He never let me get close to him, and he never opened up to me. I was blindly in love."

Dabin looked at you with sad eyes; it was the first time you had openly talked about your breakup.

->

Saturdays were your favourite day of the week. You could sleep in as long as your stomach allowed before getting too hungry. You didn't have anything on your to-do list. It was a day just for you to relax, unwind, and not think about anything or anyone for that matter.

However, on this particular Saturday, instead of being awakened by hunger, you were awakened by the doorbell.

You were confused as to who was turning up at your apartment this early on a Saturday. You quickly got out of bed, grabbed your slippers and dressing gown and headed to the door.

You didn't think to look through the peephole before opening the door.

"Hey."

His voice was deep.

"What are you doing here?" You blurted out before thinking.

Ian.

He ran his hand through his hair.

Then sighed. Deeply.

"Can we talk?"

You stared at him, completely gobsmacked. What the hell was he doing here?

"Ian, please go home," you declared, your voice quavering. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

He didn't allow you to close the door as he barged in and let it slam shut behind him.

"Please," he begged.

You witnessed an unusual display of emotion in his gaze, something completely foreign to you in all the time you'd known him.

This was new, and you were in shock. It was so unlike him to do this.

"There's nothing to talk about," you declared, finally breaking the silence.

Ian sighed again, except this time, he sounded annoyed, "just give me five minutes of your time. Please."

Upon not wanting to argue, you silently nodded and sat on your couch, wondering what he wanted to discuss.

"Dabin spoke to me," he began. "He told me about how I made you feel."

"Okay? And?"

"Do you hate me?"

You scoffed. Was he serious? This is what he wanted to ask you?

"No, Ian. I don't hate you," you said honestly. "But I don't like you either."

He rolled his eyes, and you smiled smugly.

"Ian, please get to the point," you stated, your annoyance palpable. He was ruining your favourite day of the week.

"If I proposed, would you have married me?" Ian asked as he sat next to you on the couch.

The shock in your eyes didn't go unnoticed.

You let out a nervous chuckle and moved away from him. He was sitting too close to you, which made you feel uneasy. It had been a year since the two of you had been this close to each other, and you didn't like it.

"Ian, we're not a good match-"

"But would you have said yes?"

As you felt your heart beating harder against your chest, you began to feel nauseous and the sensation of wanting to throw up arose.

Why was he asking you this all of a sudden?

"Y/N, would you have said-"

"Shut up!" you snapped, taking a few steps back as you stood up. "You always have to have your own way, win arguments- even need to get the last word in. God forbid anyone says anything to you."

You were pacing the room, but he was listening for once.

He was actually listening.

"We were together for three years, I loved you unconditionally and fell more in love with you every day. It wasn't until you broke up with me that I realised I'd been dating a fucking rock."

"Y/N, I'm so sorry" he apologised as he stood up.

"Save it," you sighed.

His eyes searched yours, seeking answers, searching for any sign of love.

"I would have said yes. Of course, I would've" you told him honestly. His lips curved into a smile, but faltered when you added, "but not now."

He didn't say anything except, 'sorry' before leaving, making sure to slam the door shut behind him. Except this time, he was the one who was walking away and you were the one who let him.

That night you decided to quit your job, there was no way that it was healthy for either of you to go on like this.

He didn't question it this time or stop you, he didn't even look at you. Your words had hurt him just like he'd hurt you. This wasn't what you wanted, but realistically what else could you do?

It just wasn't written in pages for you two to be together.

And maybe, that was okay.

->

A/N Pls go easy on me with this, its my first time writing since being on my long ass hiatus, but I hope you still enjoyed <3 xoxo

[oftlunarialmoon]

Ciao lovelies! I have written before on the topic of Age Regression many times, from explaining what Age Regression is, to Age Regression Self-Care, to Age Regression Journaling. I never explicitly said before now, but I, myself, am an age regressor to cope with stress (and some other mental health reasons). The reason why I have officially decided to come forward and say so is because I feel that I want to keep writing posts on the topic of age regression, some with personal experience perhaps, so I want to be open with you all and let you know why I continue to write on this topic. I’ve also noticed some of this blog’s audience is made up of age regressors like myself, and I want to provide you all with some content from a safe, welcoming, and open-minded source. All that being said, today I’ve decided to write down 101 activity ideas for Age Regressors/ Things to Do When Bored, Age Regression edition. Please be sure to let me know in the comments (yes, you can even comment anonymously!) if you like these ideas, please be sure to tell me your favorite!

101 ACTIVITIES FOR AGE REGRESSORS

Outside Activities for Summer

1.       Play on a swing-set!

2.       Play hopscotch!

3.       Color with chalk!

4.       Build Fairy houses with materials you find outside!

5.       Take pictures of your toys in nature! This works especially well for dinosaur toys, animal toys, et, because they look like they’re meant to be in nature!

6.       Jump rope!

7.       Go swimming!

8.       Go fishing with a net and play catch and release!

9.       Go to a beach and find cool seashells!

10.   Read a book outside in the sun!

11.   Go for an ice cream!

Outside Activities for Fall

12.   Find leaves and flowers and press them into a journal. You can also do Leaf rubbings, where you put a piece of paper over a leaf and use a crayon to rub over it to get the imprint of the leaf on the paper!

13.   Carve a pumpkin!

14.   Go to a pumpkin patch and take lots of pics among the pumpkins! You can even pick out one to take home and make into a Jack-O-Lantern (like #12)!

15.   Collect cool leaves and make a leaf arrangement/wreath!

Outside Activities for Winter

16.   Build a snowman!

17.   Build a snow-fort!

18.   Have a snowball fight!

19.   Try to catch snowflakes on your tongue!

20.   Make snow angels!

21.   Play hide and seek in the snow!

Outside Activities for Spring

22.   Collect flowers and make bouquets!

23.   Make flower crowns!

24.   Play tag with some friends!

25.   Weave grass into cool shapes!

26.   Collect cool rocks/gemstones…You can even pretend to be a dragon who’s collecting rocks for their hoard!

Indoor Activities for Any Season

27.   Redecorate your room!

28.   Clean your room! (I know, bleh, but if you clean then you’ll have a clean slate for #27!)

29.   Change your phone’s wallpaper/lockscreen (check out our Instagram Highlight for some of ours!)

30.   Play with makeup!

31.   Try out new hairstyles!

32.   Play dress up!

33.   Play with some dolls!

34.   Play pretend! You could pretend to be a teacher for your dolls/toys, or even have your stuffies go on super cool adventures with you!

35.   Craft! You can make accessories, décor, toys, clothes, anything! Check out our DIY tag for lots of fun crafts!

36.   Read some kid books!

37.   Stim! I like crinkles when I’m small, and I also like slime and flappy hands!

38.   Play with squishies!

39.   Walk around a store and look at all the toys and kid stuff!

40.   Go on a Dollar Store shopping spree! You can get a lot of stuff at a dollar store for under like $20!

41.   Color in some cool pictures!

42.   Design a new OC (Original Character) 

43.   Draw some comics! They can be of yourself or of your OC’s!

44.   Cosplay your OC’s/any character you like!

45.   Do a photoshoot!

46.   Make a sensory bottle!

47.   Set up a dollhouse!

48.   Make beaded bracelets!

49.   Make yourself a snack!

50.   Or a meal!

51.   Bake some cookies (just be careful with the hot oven, okay?)

52.   Have a dance party with your stuffies!

53.   Make a playlist to regress to!

54.   Find new regression YouTubers!

55.   Play some video games! I love Slime Rancher , Animal Crossing, and more!

56.   Play with some phone apps! I love Animal Crossing Pocket Camp, Pastel Girl, and Pokémon Go!

57.   Try to mix your own perfume!

58.   Design a picture using glitter!

59.   Draw some fashion designs!

60.   Start an age regression journal! 

61.   Practice some age regression self-care!

62.   Make a self-care box!

63.   Make figures from modeling clay!

64.   Paint your nails!

65.   Give your stuffies/dolls a makeover!

66.   Find cute regression music! 

67.   Make posters for your room!

68.   Make gifts for your friends!

69.   Find a new penpal!

70.   Write letters to your pen-pal!

71.   Start a sticker scrapbook!

72.   Open some blind-bags!

73.   Watch some toy youtubers. Our YouTube Channel has some toy videos, my other favorites are Cookie Swirl C and My Froggy Stuff!

74.   Make your own YouTube Channel!

75.   Create a mystery to solve with your stuffies!

76.   Solve a Crossword Puzzle!

77.   Solve a Wordsearch!

78.   Finish a puzzle!

79.   Design your own puzzle!

80.   Make an escape room for your toys!

81.   Paint something!

82.   Watch cute anime like Himouto Umaru Chan!

83.   Watch cute shows on Netflix like Twelve Forever or Hilda!

84.   Watch fun shows on Hulu like Gravity Falls!

85.   Go to the library!

86.   Play chess or checkers!

87.   Watch a movie! I like Welcome to Monster High!

88.   Go see a movie in theatres!

89.   Make temporary tattoos using food coloring!

90.   Make your own T-shirt using a blank T-shirt and fabric paints!

91.   Take a little nap!

92.   Put on a play with or for your stuffies!

93.   Make clothes and accessories for your stuffies!

94.   Make clothes and accessories for your dolls!

95.   Make furniture for your dolls!

96.   Make your own blindbags for a friend!

97.   Upcycle your old clothes and jewelry by designing them into something new!

98.   Visit a thrift store!

99.   Go to a museum!

100. Go to the mall!

101.  Visit an Arcade!

WHEW! I hope that is enough ideas for you bored little ones out there. Have a great day!

[callsignspark]

soft-tober | 05 | Jake Seresin

soft-tober is about experiencing the joys of October with loved ones. each day is a fall-related one-shot for one of the couples from my Dagger, Sword & Shield universe, plus a few extras! today is Jake and Flora with “Trick or treat?” “…Depends on if you’re the treat or not.” from this prompt list.

If you’d like to be tagged for soft-tober, please send an ask!

word count: 1.4k

soft-tober masterlist | main masterlist | divider credit here

warnings: extreme fluff, Jake being a sweetheart, lots of kissing

callsignspark disclaimer: my blog is an 18+ space; minors do not interact - you will be blocked. I do not consent to my work being copied, run through an AI generator, translated, or posted elsewhere. I do have an AO3, where I eventually will be cross-posting my works.

05. “Trick or treat?” “…Depends on if you’re the treat or not.”

“A little to the left… no, right. Left. Right. Don’t you know how to center something, Jake?!”

The blonde man turns on the ladder, eyebrows raised in amusement. “It is centered, Flora. You’re just standing at an angle.”

Her heart drops as she looks around, realizing she is off-center. A couple scoots to the left tells her that Jake does have the wreath perfectly centered on the balcony.

“I’m sorry.” The apology is muffled as she rubs at her eyes. Flora knows she’s being ridiculous, putting way too much effort into decorating for the shop-or-treat the business of Madison Ave are hosting during the fall block party. Staying open later than usual to hand out candy to costumed children while their parents patronize the shops.

She’s trying her hardest to appeal to kids so they’ll drag their parents inside. A florist isn’t exciting to little ones, not when there’s a bakery three doors down and a comic book store across the street. So the décor - a strategic blend of fall and Halloween - is going to be doing the heavy lifting to get people to stay for longer than it takes to put a Snickers in a pumpkin bucket.

Jake climbs down the ladder after securing the wreath in place, wrapping his arms around Flora and pulling her into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes again, her face pressed against his strong chest.

“It’s okay.” He reassures her, his warm hands rubbing her back. “I know you’re stressed, but you don’t have to worry about Studio Cacti taking over.”

Studio Cacti. Another florist shop that opened up over the summer only two blocks away. Owned by some snobby girl who was paying the bills with Daddy’s money. Flora felt hypocritical saying that, considering how she paid for the shop’s remodel and the new flower cooler, but she had started all on her own. Scrimping and saving, pouring every available cent into her shop. During that first year, she had even slept on an air mattress in her office, unable to afford the store mortgage and her apartment rent at the same time.

“Yes, I do, Jake. She’s got more money at her disposal than I’ll make in my entire life. When push comes to shove, she’ll win because she can afford it.”

“Trust me, I have a few ideas, and if I can get everything into place, you’ll be the most successful florist in the city, maybe even the county.”

Flora pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ears as she stares at Jake. The smug look on his face should make her wary - should turn her off - but it doesn’t. It makes her feel giddy whenever she sees it; she’s pretty sure he Pavloved her with his bright smile.

“And am I allowed to know about these plans?”

“Nope, just worry about shop-or-treat for now.”

“It’s my shop, Jacob.”

“God, I love when you call me that.”

“Focus.”

The undignified noise that escapes as he squats down and wraps her legs around his waist makes her cheeks burn. Usually, she hates when men try to pick her up, but she never hates when Jake does it. Flora is taken off guard again when he plops her on the counter next to the register, using the distraction to ignore the voice telling her it’s okay when Jake does it because she likes him.

“I am focused, Phillips. C’mere.”

He kisses her just like he did the first time, like he’s done every time. Gentle at first, simply pressing their lips together as he cups her neck, then he tugs her closer, intensity increasing as he tests the waters to see if she wants to go further.

Normally, she’s all in for a good makeout session, one where his big hands will roam and caress her body in just the right way that will lead to them being naked later on, but tonight, she pulls back.

“Can we do a test run?”

“A test- of what?”

“Of shop-or-treat. You go out and come in pretending to be a kid. Use fresh eyes; look for anything that needs improving.”

“You want me to pretend to be a ten-year-old boy?”

“It should be easy; that’s how mature you are.” She regrets the snipe as soon as it leaves her mouth, Jake immediately attacking her sides. Flora holds out for about five seconds, laughter bubbling out as she gives in. “Uncle! Uncle!”

“I just want to put it on record that I think this is a dumb idea because everything is already great, but I’m doing this anyway. For you.”

She hates the way her heart flutters at his wink. They had agreed to be friends-with-benefits, nothing more. Heart thumping was definitely not within the bounds of their agreement. Maybe it was time to end the arrangement.

The bells ring as Jake walks back in, doing exactly what she asked and interrupting her thoughts. Green eyes big and round as he looks around the store like a kid in a candy shop. His eyebrows furrow slightly at different points in the room, and Flora knows he’s making mental notes on what needs to be changed.

She lets him go on for a few minutes, swinging her legs and admiring how his gray t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. Shoulders that probably still have marks where her nails dug into him a few days ago.

“Aren’t you going to say it?”

“Say what?” He asks as he finishes his examination, standing a few feet in front of her.

“Trick or treat?”

“Well… depends on if you’re the treat or not.” He laughs as she whines his name. “Everything is great. The only thing that’s going to make it better is us finishing what you already had planned.”

“Really?”

“Even the most sticky, snotty-nose brat will want to come into the flower shop with the pretty lady behind the counter.”

Flora’s breath hitches as he crowds into her space, hands tugging her hips closer as their lips meet. She melts into the kiss, sinking her hands into his hair. It’s getting a bit long; he’ll need to get a trim soon so he’s up to regulations, but she loves how it feels between her fingers. He’s the only man she didn’t have to introduce to conditioner, his sisters taking care of that lesson back in high school.

“Excuse me, are you open?”

Her internal debate about whether to hook her legs around him here or pull him up to her office and put the couch to good use is interrupted as they break apart.

“What?” Flora pants, brain still scrambled from how Jake was grabbing at her thighs.

“Are you open?”

“No, ma’am; I’m sorry, we’re not open right now.”

“Oh, that’s too bad! I wanted to get flowers for my daughter, she just gave birth! Lilies are her favorite, and I saw your case through the window. You have the most beautiful options.”

“I’m sorry if you want to come back-”

“Is it your first grandchild?” Jake interrupts, sliding Flora off the counter.

“It is! A little girl!”

“Congratulations!” He smiles, turning to Flora. “Take the sale; I’ll finish decorating.”

A kiss on her forehead, and he’s making his way up the stairs, unraveling leaf garland to wrap around the banister.

She’s only slightly distracted as she puts together a bouquet filled with white lilies, baby’s breath, and eucalyptus for the new grandmother, Jake constantly on her mind. And after cashing out her newest customer and locking the door, Flora makes her way upstairs. Her heart soft as she watches Jake carefully string twinkle lights along the railing he just finished decorating, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah, darlin'?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” His pretty green eyes blink up at her in confusion, and she realizes she’s not quite sure how to answer.

Thank you for helping decorate.

Thank you for understanding about how much I work.

Thank you for accepting that I can only do friends-with-benefits with you.

“Just… for everything.”

“Of course, whatever you need, Flora. You know that.”

She feels herself weakening as he stands up and saunters over to her, his smile so big that his eyes crinkle and his dimples show. This time, Flora doesn’t make a noise when he lifts her; just wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. The two of them giggling when Jake drops her onto the couch and climbs on top of her, hooking her legs over his hips.

The decorating is so not getting finished tonight… oh well.

@gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @hangmanbrainrot | @princessphilly | @hangmanssunnies | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007 | @whatislovevavy | @kmc1989 | @sometimesanalice | @laracrofted | @yuckosworld | @mika-darling | @bradshawsbaddie | @bobblebobsbae | @ohtobeleah | @withahappyrefrain

[lgcmanager]

YEAR END CEREMONIES ( PART 2 )

( important note: for 2024′s year end ceremonies, this is split into two parts so this part will be for the ACTORS & MODELS. in terms of ic, some of the events happened since late october/early november to give the muses enough time to work and plan whatever projects/events are assigned to them. )

with the year end season happening, all of the LGC artists ( idols/actors/models ) will be attending various events during the months of december and january.

SEASON’S GREETINGS

as more celebrities have their own season’s greetings, for this year LGC agency decided to join along and let each MODEL and ACTOR have their own! for this, all of the season’s greetings are done INDIVIDUALLY, which means that they cannot team up with anyone else in the subsidiary for it. each MODEL and ACTOR is given some creative freedom with how they would like their season’s greetings to be, but as usual there are some points to consider when thinking of the perfect one:

due to the limited preparation time, the MODEL/ACTOR is restricted to doing their photoshoots in a studio. this means that themes/settings that focus on something seasonal/weather will not be allowed ( eg. a season’s greetings inspired by spring/summer )

all of the season’s greetings will have the following items inside the box: desk calendar, photobook, polaroid set ( 4 polaroids ), photocard set ( 12 cards, one for each month ), sticker set ( 1 sheet ), calendar poster and one item selected by the muse ( either a diary OR a small keychain representing the theme of the season’s greetings ).

the theme selected MUST NOT overlap with the current themes that the idol groups are having ( please refer to their post to see what themes/season’s greetings references were used ). the theme also has to be reflective of the MODEL/ACTOR’s personality, interests, and/or image.

just like the idol groups’ season’s greetings, all of the LGC AGENCY ones will be released on DECEMBER 27, while the behind the scenes videos and photos will be released on FEBRUARY 2 on LGC’s social media accounts. if you want to, you can post any photos that may match the muse’s respective theme for OPEN EVENT 006 ( fansites ) starting in FEBRUARY.

LGC AGENCY’S ANNUAL YEAR END GALA

similar to last year, LGC AGENCY will be hosting their year end gala on DECEMBER 13. this year’s theme is called “GLACIAL OPULENCE”, which combines the elegance of korean culture with the clean, minimalist beauty of icy luxury. the interior of the venue would be a mixture of futuristic yet glamourous vibes, with holographic lighting, frosted décor and ice sculptures present.

for the attire, all of the guests will be required to wear modern variations of hanbok with any of the following colors: white, pale blue and silver ( holographic or metallic details are allowed as well given the theme’s name ).

the gala will start at 8pm and end around 1am. during that time there will be multiple activities that the ACTOR/MODEL can do while waiting before dinner time.

here are some of the activities that will be present ( there will be more but these ones are suggestions for thread ideas ):

FROSTED CANDLE MAKING: a station to create small candles in clear containers with winter-themed scents and frost the outer glass with a snowy effect.

GLACIAL FORTUNE READING: a more modern take on korean fortune telling with a winter twist, where the predictions are written on icy glass cards.

ICE BAR: a pop-up bar made entirely of ice, serving signature mocktails inspired by winter landscapes ( just choose a specific winter landscape on the menu and the barista will serve you a drink! )

ICE THRONE PHOTO BOOTH: a luxurious and oversized ice chair surrounded by shimmering props that can be used to take dramatic photos.

WINTER PUZZLE ART: a collaborative station where each guest will be given one piece of the puzzle and be asked to work together to complete a large winter-themed puzzle throughout the evening.

before dinner time, HEO AECHA and the managers will be making brief speeches talking about their achievements during the past year and what they look forward to in 2025. then near the end of the gala, the managers will give each ACTOR/MODEL a personalized gift box ( the contents are mostly the same, but there are a few items changed to reflect the muse’s personality/interests ). while it is optional, the ACTORS and MODELS can take that time as well to give any presents to their respective managers.

( important note: for open event 006 [ fansites ], you can post fan/press photos of your muse wearing the outfit or attending the year end gala during the month of december and it will count for the fansite points. )

YEAR END SCHEDULES

listed below are the ones the ACTORS/MODELS will be attending:

DECEMBER 21: model.com industry awards (korea)

DECEMBER 27: asia artist awards (thailand)

JANUARY 7: korea brand awards

JANUARY 13: korea musical awards

you can click over HERE for a more exhaustive list of the awards and year end shows. do note that not all of the MODELS/ACTORS will be attending the year end ceremonies.

WRITING REQUIREMENTS

SEASON’S GREETINGS: write a 300+ word solo OR headcanon post covering the following points: name of the season’s greetings, theme ( and reason why that theme ), and any specific details about the season’s greetings ( eg. whether they chose a diary or keychain, how the stickers/photocard/polaroid sets look like, etc ). for this it is optional but if you want to provide some visual references over how the season’s greetings look like, feel free to add it in the post. completing this will earn you +10 MODELING and +6 NOTORIETY !

GLACIAL OPULENCE OUTFIT: write a 250+ word headcanon post about the outfit that your muse would be wearing for lgc agency’s year end gala for +5 MODELING and +4 NOTORIETY ! for this specific task, feel free to reference outfit images or include a moodboard to get a general idea of the outfit.

GLACIAL OPULENCE: write a 4 replies ( minimum 8 lines; 2 posts per mun ) thread with another actor OR model about anything related to the year end gala ( this can include the activities suggested above ) for +8 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE and +3 NOTORIETY !

use the hashtag lgc:yearend2024. make sure to submit your points before FEBRUARY 8, 2025 at 11:59 EST to the lgcpoints blog:

MUSE NAME · YEAR END CEREMONIES 2K24 - SEASON’S GREETINGS: +10 modeling, +6 notoriety [ LINK ] - GO OUTFIT: +5 modeling, +4 notoriety [ LINK ] - GLACIAL OPULENCE: +8 ( skill points distribution ), +3 notoriety [ LINK ]  

[figmentof]

A man crosses the desert that separates his ranch from the town of Bitter Creek on horseback. He is going to visit Sheriff Jake, a friend from his youth, when both worked as hired gunmen. The action takes place in 1910, and the two men are in their fifties. Silva (Pedro Pascal) is of Mexican origin, a solid guy, emotional, elusive, a cheat, if necessary, warm. It's been twenty-five years since he last saw Sheriff Jake (Ethan Hawke), blond, strict, cold, inscrutable, almost the opposite to Silva. That night, at the Sheriff's house, they eat a meat stew Jake has cooked, they drink, and they make love, all of it in abundance. The next morning, Silva wants the party to continue, but he finds a stony Jake, who is nothing like the man from the night before. (This was the first thing I wrote, the sequences that follow that orgiastic night in which both characters confront their past and their present in totally different ways.)

spoilers ahead!

This is the heart of the story: the argument while they get dressed the following morning. In this argument, the ulterior motives are revealed(as well as the passion that they lived when they were younger, and that is still beating within them, even though Jake doesn't want to admit it once they are sober). Jake has to go after a murderer who, according to an eyewitness, was Silva's son. And Silva has to intercede for him, trying to convince Jake that his son is innocent and that he should stop searching for him. All this, the sheriff’s duty as opposed to a father’s grief, mixed with reproaches and declarations of love from two lovers who haven’t seen each other in twenty-five years and who live their lives at opposite ends of the desert. These are the ten central minutes of the film, the first I wrote. I still didn’t know what the story would be, or if there would even be a story, but my first intention was to give voice to these two middle-aged, queer men who traditionally have remained silent in a genre like the western. I was attracted by the idea of breaking that silence. Brokeback Mountain by Ang Lee is the closest Hollywood has come to telling a story about two men who love each other and talk about it, but the lovers in Ang Lee’s film are shepherds, so I don’t include the film in the western genre.

There are westerns with gay characters, like Warlock by Edward Dmytryk. The script abounds in data about the passionate relationship between its two protagonists, Anthony Quinn and Henry Fonda, but no one talks about it even though their relationship is one of the axes of the film. This turns Dmytryk’s film into a strange western or one with a badly written script. The film is only understood if both of them are lovers, but that word is never mentioned.

Although I’m a great admirer of the genre, I never thought that I’d end up making a western. I greatly enjoyed this shoot, despite the unbearable temperatures of the hottest summer in our history. We filmed in a town built in Almeria for Sergio Leone as a set for his legendary dollar trilogy, with Clint Eastwood. (The Good, The Bad, The Ugly; For a Few Dollars More and A Fistful of Dollars). The passing of time, fifty years of it, has given authenticity to the place, today being dusty and old. The typical artifice of what had been a film set fifty years ago, built back then only weeks before shooting, had now disappeared.

It was also a thrilling experience to work with Ethan Hawke and Pedro Pascal, both extraordinary in their respective roles.

As for the décor, I have respected the rules of the genre without falling into any anachronistic temptation, except for the song at the beginning, with the voice of Caetano Veloso and the angelical face of Manu Ríos, which gives the film its title.

For the choice of paintings on the walls of the two most important sets, the interior of the sheriff’s house and the ranch where Silva lives, I have turned to artists of the time. In Sheriff Jake’s house there are several paintings by Maynard Dixon, one of the first artists, if not the first, to paint landscapes from the American West, with native Indians and cowboys. For me it has all been a discovery, his work possesses a coloring untypical of the time that brings it close to pop and at times to impressionism. There is also a portrait of the artist Lily Langtry, very famous at the start of the century, who actually made a silent film and whom Ava Gardner plays in The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean along with Paul Newman. The other great artist who appears on the walls of the ranch is Georgia O’Keefe, the Mexican landscape that hangs over Silva’s bed.

Saint Laurent by Anthony Vaccarello was in charge of the entire wardrobe. We took our inspiration not so much from the reality of the time but from cinema, how actors were dressed in westerns between 1900 and 1915. If anyone wonders about Pedro Pascal wearing a green jacket, I recommend watching Bend of the River by Anthony Mann, where James Stewart wears an identical green jacket. And I have a lot of respect for Anthony Mann and James Stewart.

We are also inspired by Veracruz (Robert Aldrich), specifically for the outfit worn by Silva's murderous son Joe. It is inspired by Burt Lancaster, all black.

And Sheriff Jake, he's in a suit, with a vest and bola tie, like almost all the sheriffs in the Westerns I have watched. Kirk Douglas is one of the models, whether playing a sheriff or a card player, Gun Fight at the OK Corral or in Last Train from Gun Hill, both by John Sturges. I have re-watched many westerns so as not to fall into anachronisms and the truth is that the male wardrobe has changed very little, the sheriff is always the most elegant, usually with a suit, waistcoat (the fabric of the waistcoat was the only thing that allowed you some fantasy, with shiny damasks), shirt and around the neck a bola tie.

The rest of the male characters always wear a scarf around their necks, in different colours and patterns, a checked shirt and a waistcoat. The dresses of the Mexican prostitutes are inspired by El Dorado (Howard Hawks). I have done my research with a multitude of westerns, especially Hawks, John Ford, John Sturges, Raoul Walsh, Anthony Mann, Peckinpah, Robert Aldrich, etc.

As for the narrative in general and the music, I have followed the classical canon. Despite the fact that in Spain we have a great tradition of spaghetti westerns, more than a hundred were filmed in the 60s and 70s. I have not been inspired by any of them and the composer Alberto Iglesias has avoided Ennio Morricone, who would have been the easiest reference.

Pedro Almodóvar

[yoosmekihyun]

Conversations in the Dark (pt. 1)

Summary: After a series of major personal events, you decide to move to New York (in part) so you can have a relationship with your newly discovered half-sister, Karen Page. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson become additional important figures in your life as you navigate new relationships and figure out how to live your life.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (eventually), we run the spectrum of emotions here

Warnings: mention of death, grief, anxiety, drinking, pining (so much pining), self-deprecation, chapters with sexual content will be marked with their own warnings, violence or attempted violence (i.e. Daredevil related), more possible warnings in the future

Author’s Note: This is pure wish fulfillment and written for my own joy. I haven’t put out anything in at least five years and this is the first time I’ve written something multi-part. I’m not sure how this will go, how long it will be, or how often I will post/update.

Word Count: 1.9k

Part 1

The remnants of summer still lingered in the warm September afternoon as you stepped out of the cab in front of the coffee shop. Glancing at your watch, you realized you were still a little early but that’s how you preferred it. This would allow you to order your drink and calm your nerves a little before she arrived.

When your turn came at the counter, you took the barista’s suggestion of the monthly special and moved to wait for your drink. Looking around you noticed the little pieces of fall décor another employee was putting up around the shop giving it a cozier vibe. Once the barista called your name, you found a small empty table in a corner that would allow you to watch the door and enjoy the city street chaos through the large window next to you.

This shouldn’t have been as nerve racking as it was but while you had spoken with your half-sister several times over the last year, you hadn’t seen her in person since your father’s funeral a little over a year ago. You prayed this was a good idea. You needed a win after the heaviness you had dealt with over the last few years. You needed some joy and connection, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity but now you were second guessing yourself.

Just as you were beginning to spiral and doubt your decision for the umpteenth time that day, you heard the ding of the door and watched your half-sister, Karen Page, rush in searching for you. The moment she saw you, she broke into a huge smile and hurried over to envelop you in a hug.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you made it safely! I hope you weren’t waiting long; I told Matt and Foggy I needed to leave sooner but they’re drowning in a sea of paperwork for a case, and we lost track of time.”

“Don’t worry about it! I’m usually early and you’re only a couple minutes late. No harm, no foul.” You released her from the hug and in that instant, you knew you had made the right decision. You didn’t realize how much you needed a hug from family until that moment and you felt more settled than you had in weeks.

“Do we need to postpone so you can get back to the office? Are you on a time crunch?” you asked.

“Oh, hell no, we are not postponing! They’ll be fine without me for a little while. I want to caffeinate while I hear about how you’re feeling now that you’re here!”

-X-

Your biological father may have been a world class asshole, but at least he had the decency to tell you and Karen about each other before he died. It was weird growing up as an only child to find out as an adult that you had a sister, especially when you had so desperately wished for one when you were younger. For her part, Karen could have decided she didn’t want a sister, but she welcomed you into her life with open arms. Admittedly, you struggled some, not because you were unhappy to find out about her, but because the news came during one of the worst times of your life.

If you had a terrible biological father, then luckily, you had the most amazing mother you could have asked for. When you and Karen found out about each other, you had just received news that your mother had been diagnosed with cancer for the second time. This time, it was late-stage and had spread with abysmal survival rates. This news alone meant your plate was beyond full. The idea of figuring out how to grieve the parent who didn’t want you while struggling to accept the awful news about your mother was overwhelming. It was nothing to say of the struggles to cultivate a new relationship with your sister under your poorly hidden sorrow, but Karen had been lovely and understanding. She did so much of the early legwork to develop your relationship, checking on you when she knew you were focused on your mother and often reminding you to do basic tasks to take care of yourself.

When your mother passed in the late spring, you were understandably devastated. She had been your sounding board your entire life and, without her, you felt unmoored. Thankfully, Karen had been there. She hadn’t been able to come to the funeral, but she called you every day for the first couple weeks after to make sure you were eating, hydrating, and showering. She listened to your stories and cried with you when the grief threatened to eat you alive.

During a conversation expressing your untethered feelings, Karen raised the idea that led you to the coffee shop in the midst of Hell’s Kitchen.

“Hey, I know you’re not sure what to do but…what if you moved here? Maybe a big change of pace and scenery will help you move forward.”

If you were being honest, moving to New York was an idea you had for a long time. You had applied to Columbia and NYU in your final year of high school but a full ride to a local university secured your undergrad path. Despite this decision, you never let go of the idea of New York. When Karen tentatively suggested the idea, it was like your mother was holding a huge neon sign for you, telling you to get off your ass and GO! A light burst into life within you, and you scrambled to make the arrangements so you could move as soon as possible.

-X-

Once Karen had her coffee and settled into her seat, you relayed some of your travel mishaps and your ideas and loose plans for her input.

“Honestly, I can’t really believe I’m here. It’s all still so surreal. But I’m hoping the apartment hunting will help ground me a little and once I can actually get my things here, it’ll start to sink in.”

“That makes sense. I imagine it’ll feel more like a vacation until you have your things around you. I’m so glad you’re here to experience fall in New York! I think you’ll love it,” Karen gushed, beaming at you.

As you grinned at Karen, you felt a peace and a warmth spread in your chest that you hadn’t felt since before your mom passed. You reached across the table and grasped her hand. “Thank you, Karen, for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you this last year. I’m so grateful you’re my sister.”

Karen’s eyes started to well up as she gripped your hand in return, “I’m grateful you’re my sister too.”

Shocking you both out of the moment, Karen’s phone buzzed, and she rolled her eyes once she saw the caller ID. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. He knows I’m with you so I’m not sure why Foggy’s calling.” You waved her to answer it, unbothered by the interruption as it gave you a moment to reign in your emotions a little more. You didn’t need to start sobbing in the middle of a coffee shop; you’d have your bigger emotions in private later.

You took a sip of your coffee as you heard Karen’s exasperated tone, “Yes Foggy I know it’s a big deal. YES, I know we need the revenue. Okay, okay but you both know why I took an extended break and who I’m with…Seriously?? Now? Ugh, fine. You both owe me AND Y/N for interrupting.”

Karen sighed as she ended the call and looked at you apologetically. Before she could even say anything, you started, “Let me guess, they need you back ASAP because they don’t know how to function without you?”

She chuckled and confirmed, “Basically. He also asked me to bring back coffee. They’re losing steam fast. If you’re not too tired, do you want to walk back with me? You can meet them, so you know who to look for when we get drinks at Josie’s tonight!”

“Wait, what’s Josie’s?”

“It’s this local dive bar that Matt and Foggy love and they want to welcome you to the city! We planned on going tonight if you felt up to it, but we can do another night or somewhere else if that works better for you?”

You could tell Karen was a little nervous. Whether it was encouraging you to meet her co-workers and friends so quickly or having you go drinking your first night in an unfamiliar city, you didn’t know but you wanted to start living your life, not hide away in a hotel room.

“That all sounds great! I love a good dive bar, sounds like my kind of place.”

Fresh coffees in hand, you and Karen made your way back to her office making small talk about the neighborhood and places to consider when you went apartment hunting the following day with a recommended broker. You wanted to be near Karen, not necessarily in her building, but within walking distance so it would be easy to see each other when you wanted.

You nearly missed the sign “Nelson, Murdock, and Page” until Karen directed you to the door next to it. Once you made it to the interior door, you could hear the loud voices before Karen opened the office door.

“I come bearing caffeine. If you want it, stop arguing and get out here so you can meet my sister!”

You heard chairs scraping right before you saw a tall, blonde man with a huge smile step out of a side room. Holding out his hand for you to shake he said, “Hi! I’m Franklin Nelson but you can call me Foggy.”

Unable to hold back your grin, you took his hand for a quick shake and replied “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The sheer happiness and light that shone out of Foggy reminded you of your mother. You knew this man was going to be your friend, come hell or highwater.

Behind Foggy you could hear a shuffling sound and you peered around him. Once you saw the other man, you nearly forgot to breathe. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you gazed at easily the most beautiful man you had ever seen in person. Like Foggy, he had his sleeves rolled up to just under the elbow and the top button of his shirt was undone along with a loosened tie. His red reflective glasses did nothing to distract from the sharp jawline and days-old stubble. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he had recently been running a hand through it. As beautiful as he was standing before you, you were most distracted by his mouth. It was lush and soft while still looking deliciously male and it was quirked up on one side like he was in on some kind of joke you had missed.

Loudly, someone cleared their throat and shook you out of your stare. You realized you had missed something as Karen looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk and Foggy was shaking his head while rolling his eyes.

You gave a little embarrassed chuckle as your cheeks flushed, “Um, sorry, what did I miss? I’m a little out of it, all the excitement and travel today.”

The beautiful man gave a full smile and you nearly stopped breathing again. He stepped forward and with one hand extended, he repeated,

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Matt Murdock.”

Copyright © 2023 by yoosmekihyun. All rights reserved.

[partyanimal167]

The Mechanic- Kidd x F!Reader

Finally seeing more Kid during Wano, so I might as well write about him. Tbh, I was going to wait until I got my motorcycle license to write this idea but...I don't know when that's going to happen. I be so busy in the kitchen 😅 lol.

Anyway, first time writing a full piece with Kid, so let me know how this. Thanks so much for reading.

CW: black fem reader in mind, modern au, fluff, bubbly reader

Kid will begrudgingly admit it that he did not expect well...you when pulled your bike up for an oil change. You were new in town and had been looking all over the internet for a place to take your precious baby for a tune-up especially after having to leave your mechanic of three years.

He was fiddling with his own bike when he heard your engine cut off. He stood up and looked boredly as you parked and stood up to take your helmet off. Your hair was pushed back and covered in a silk scarf--preventing helmet hair. You looked a little bit nervous as you looked around before making eye contact. You gave him a small smile. "Hi, uh, I have an oil change appointment for Y/N."

He grunted before scribbling your name on a clipboard. "Put your number here." He didn't blther to wipe his hands and got a grease smudge on the paper and pen. You didn't seem to mind though. Kid checked you out a bit when you filled out a couple other forms. You seemed too...sweet...and innocent. There weren't a lot of biker babes in this area, but you definitely didn't fit the stereotype. Your bike was white and you had cat ear attachments on your helmet. Your riding gloves had heart-shaped cut. Your keys jingled, and there were probably three too many lanyards and charm attachments. Certainly those hit your leg when you rode. Kid assumed that you were a newbie who begged to get a motorcycle and would probably drop the hobby after the summer was over. He saw it a lot with all sorts of people (though typically older men who were trying to end a midlife crisis).

"Alright, you can go sit inside. Shouldn't take me too long." he grumbled after you handed the clipboard back. He placed the pen behind his ear.

"Okay! Thanks, take good care of her!" you giggled before heading inside.

Kid rolled his eyes. He was so tired of hearing that from people. He stood over by your bike and glanced at the odometer. His eyes shot wide for a sec. That was...definitely a lot more miles than he expected. You were definitely riding around for years now and probably during the colder months too. He gave a small grin. He'd give you a little more credit.

...

Instead it was another young man who wore a black leather jacket and certainly had an arrogant air about him. His eyes found yours, and he immediately grinned wolfishly. "Oh what a sweet thing you are. What are you doing here in a place like this?"

You rocked in your chair slightly as you looked around the shop space. It was small, and there wasn't a lot of décor really. There were some framed articles about the quality of service and pictures of an older gentleman when the shop had first opened. A bell rung from the door opening, and you turned expecting to see the mechanic from earlier.

You immediately knew where this conversation was going to go. Not many people expected a woman to be riding even during this day and age especially when you weren't always parading around in some fake rockabilly aesthetic. You've gotten your gender wrongfully assumed more times than you can count and had a few unpleasant interactions at the gas station.

You sighed and gave your best fake smile. "Just getting my bike looked at."

He grinned down at you. "Oh really? You should check out my ride some time. I can give you some pointers on driving and stuff."

You wanted to gagged at his offer. "I'm good."

"No need to be shy. There's a lot to learn. You can even practice on mine. I-,"

The bell rung again, and you were happy that the mechanic was back. You looked at the name patch on his shirt: Kid. He still had grease smudges on his face and sweat gathered where his goggles rested. "She's all done." Kid said before walking around to the counter. You stood in front--thankful to end the conversation. "Sweet. I'll-,"

"I'll take care of it, boss. What did the girl need? A simple oil change?" the dude injected himself chuckling while pulling out his wallet.

You didn't turn, but your body froze and you fidgeted with your hands a little. Kid looked at your for a moment before turning his attention to the guy. He shrugged. "Nah. Actually, I just had to replace her tires and engine--whole accident and all." He stared at the computer screen and typed on a few keys. "Definitely a couple grand or so..." Kid trailed off.

The man's face paled, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Uh well...I'll be back...but uh, don't go waiting for me too long." he then rushed out of the shop.

You chuckled, relieved that the man was gone. "Thanks," you reached to take off your backpack.

"Broke bitch," Kid grumbled. He hated guys who tried to show off and act like they knew what they were talking about just because they watched a couple of YouTube videos. Kid held out his hand. "And uh, don't worry about. First one's on the house."

You tilted your head. "Oh really? How nice. I was nervous when I first got here, but I've heard really good things about this place. Thanks so much!" you beamed.

Kid's face reddened slightly, and he shook his head. "I'm just keeping this place together with my old man wandering around in retirement."

You nodded your head. "Well I'm sure you're doing a great job."

Kid paused for a bit before grabbing a random piece of paper and scribbling on it. "Uh, your bike's in really good shape, and 's better than most I come across. There's a bike show a county over happening next week. You should check it out. Show her off and stuff."

You looked over the paper. "Oh how cool! I've been meaning to see if there's any nearby. I'll definitely check it out!" you folded the paper and placed in your pocket. "Will you be going?"

"Huh?"

You laughed brightly. "Well you're the one who told me about it. We should go together! I don't know that many people here, and it'd be nice to hang with an expert."

Kid scratched his head while leaning a bit. "Uh...sure." he plucked out a card from a drawer. "This has my cell on it. Just give me a call." he then handed your keys over. "Be safe out there."

"I will! Thanks, Kid. I look forward to our date!" you then walked out the shop and out of his sight.

Kid stared out the window where you just were. ....A date? He blushed.

~~~

And scene. I definitely like a Kid who stands up to assholes especially cocky ones. Sweaty buff Kid is a sight to imagine. I just know he's putting in work all day and in his element.

Thanks for reading!

(This girl here was all over me while writing this)

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 1/5

Book Blurb:

A sizzling, feel-good, opposites-attract holiday romance from Tessa Bailey, #1 New York Times bestselling author of It Happened One Summer and Wreck the Halls!

Two weeks before Christmas and all through Manhattan, shop windows are decorated in red and green satin. Stella is standing alone outside a famous department store, when a charming man asks her opinion on the décor.

It’s a tragedy in tinsel, she says, unable to lie. Then he asks for a better idea, with a twinkle in his eye. She didn’t know he owned the place, when he put her on the spot, and now she’s working for that man, trying to ignore that he’s hot.

But as a down-on-her-luck girl with a difficult past, Stella knows how to make a good opportunity last. So she gives it her all, working without stopping. Trying to resist temptation, because she’s just window shopping.

Review:

She's an ex con who is looking for a job as a window display maker and he's the owner of a store in need of one.... yet when they meet each other it's an instant connection... but can a romance work between boss and employee and two polar opposite people? It is two weeks before Christmas and Stella is standing outside of a department store judging it's window display... when a strange man asks her and she gives him the honest truth... turns out he's the owner of the department store and she's just applied to be a window display maker there. Stella is out of prison and trying to get her life together but that means resisting the temptation of her very hot and nice boss who has her questioning whether or not she just wants to window shop or get in a full fledge relationship with him. Can he convince her to stay with him or will she move on as soon as she's had enough? This is a repub of the book that Tessa Bailey had originally posted... and sadly this one was a miss for me. I have been loving some of her most recent stuff so when I saw that this one was getting republished I was hoping that this new edition would be great. This story sadly just feels a bit bleh and I couldn't get into the relationship aspect at all. The romance just did not feel there and the writing just isn't as good as her other newer published books. While this one missed the mark for me I am intrigued to read her next books and to see what else she comes up with.

Release Date: October 1,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Avon and Harper Voyager | Avon for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[jeannereames]

The Importance of Space

Sometimes where we work matters. At least it does for me.

When my sabbatical was approved for spring of 2024, I assumed I’d do it where I’d spent most of the pandemic: my couch with a rolling laptop desk, and my kitchen table. I have an office at the uni, yes, but have never worked well there. As a grad student, I got used to research in my home space, and I never successfully transitioned to an office somewhere else. I have colleagues who can't work at home, for whatever reason, but I work best at home (even when my son was young).

For some time, I've planned to renovate my upstairs into an office after my son graduated and moved out, for “when I retire.” In fact, I bought this old (1936) house because it had a lovely open floor plan in the finished attic that just SCREAMS library/office. But it needed a split-AC to better control the temps, and serious updating. I’d even had thoughts of adding a little half-bath. I started saving up for all this as soon as I moved in, but it would cost a lot, so it became what felt like a “unicorn” long-term goal. My work for the ATG Netflix docudrama was to get additional funds towards that renovation sooner than “some day.”

This past summer, I finally had the split-AC done. Nothing else could move forward until that, replacing windows, and the potential half-bath. Yet estimates for the last were out of this world, post-Covid, so I decided to jettison the idea.

THAT meant—around August/September—I realized I might be able to get all the updates done in time for sabbatical.

You have no idea how much this recognition thrilled me. To have My Own Home Office (again), and make it just the way I wanted it (albeit without a half-bath). So, bids commenced. I had a GOAL, and a timeline. My sabbatical would begin January 2nd, 2024. And by golly, I was going to have my office (mostly) ready. That a retrograde Mercury would turn direct the evening of January 1st (my time zone), made me all the more convinced that it was the right date to begin.

Ergo, on top of the crazy teaching load, and editing for the Macedonian collection, I scheduled renovations. I just had to survive through December! It was sometimes anxiety-inducing, and half my library (non-academic) was up there. I had to pack all the books (c.1000+), move them downstairs, then move them BACK. Upside? I’ve been recording them with Library Thing as I unpack and reshelve, so I’ll finally have an accurate list of everything I own, at least at home. I’m also slowly using those same (emptied) boxes to bring home books and files from my uni office, for research. And for Christmas, my dear son made me a pair of custom sized-for-the-wall-space bookshelves, 5 feet by 5 feet. I’m tickled pink.

I even managed to find, after much searching, a desk and office chair that are low enough for a short person (The Struggle Is Real). They arrived just in time to be assembled before Jan. 2nd. It really did feel like FATE.

Oh, yes…best part. My office is inspired by Chefchaouen, Morocco’s famous Blue City, with bi-colored blue walls, white ceiling and accents, and a terra-cotta toned carpet. The various installers thought I was nuts until they actually saw it complete: ‘Oh, yeah, this really works.’ Um, yes. Yes, it does. Sun-yellow cushion and blue-yellow-white sheer scarf curtains complete it. Plus a beautiful blue-and-white bowl a student brought back from Morroco for me—the first décor I set out along with my reproduction of the gold sarcophagus from Royal Tomb II at Vergina that Beth Carney bequeathed me.

Eventually, once all the bookshelves are in place, I’ll decorate with photos from Macedonia. My dining room features photographs I took in Rome + a little Greece, the living room is mostly Greece…but my office? That’ll be Macedonia. Virtually all the pictures in the house (with a couple exceptions) I took myself.

There's still a lot more to do; less than half the books are unpacked. My white board isn't up yet, some furniture is still downstairs, BUT.

Today, I unpacked the Loebs I’d brought home, onto my new desk, and started organizing my research. 😊

[sailor-toni]

I Think My Neighbor’s Dead Son is Trying to Talk to Me?

You can also read this on A03, FF.net, or Wattpad

Summary:

Wes Weston has just moved into Amity Park but there is something seriously wrong with the destroyed house next door to him. Espically at night when the wind passed through the rusted Fenton Works sign. (AU Full Ghost Danny) (Phicc Phight prompt fill for kalyke/aggressivelyclueless)

The cold summer’s air blasted itself at the nape of his neck, chilling him to the bone. It was a threat, or a command from above to stop, but Wes saw something in the old Fenton Works, and he had to know whose eyes he saw in the brief flashes of lighting.

It started last week, his father had gotten a news anchor job in a medium size city called Amity Park, which according to the aged and weathered sign, was a great place to live. Was it really that great if they had to both underline and italicize the word? To Wes the strangeness of the sign was a single for the dull dread that was to come from life in Amity Park. 

It rained almost everyday in Amity Park, and when the sun decided to show itself the harsh winds kept everyone in jackets well past winter. The buildings were a mash up of white colonial paint with tall white columns, pointed Victorian roofs, and décor that looked like it belonged in the height of the eighties. All together it created a visual disaster of a town that seemed both lost in time and missing whatever soul it had once had. In short, Wes hated it here. He wanted to go back to Oklahoma where the sunset wasn’t obstructed by something every day, and back to where his friends were. 

Worst of all was the house next to them. It was a three story townhouse with a second metal house (It was a large metal circular structure with satellite dishes and antennas on top,  and random metal poles connecting it to the house below) on top, and a dead neon sign on the side that read Fenton Works. The whole building was abandoned and dilapidated with half the windows broken and the other half bored up. 

And Wes didn’t believe in ghost, he thought the idea was stupid. The dead can’t come back and anyone who told you otherwise was trying to sell you something. But one day at school he heard some of the other students talking. 

“So, Kwan are you in?” Dash, school bully, high school football star, and future used car salesman said.

“No way dude! I’m not about to spend my free night looking for Fenton’s Ghost,” Kwan, the only one on the football team who  had enough smarts go to college, said. 

“Aw, are you scared? Is the Kwan-ster scared of an old house?” 

“I’m not scared. We just don’t know what those people were doing there. What if they left a science experiment out and it gives us all cancer?” 

“You’re being ridiculous man, they probably took everything when they left.”

“You never know dude. I mean… their own son died because of what they were hiding in the basement. They probably didn’t want to carry that reminder with them when they left.”

“But doesn't that make you more curious to check it out? My Mom’s co-worker’s second cousin’s boyfriend said she saw strange lights in the house last halloween. Maybe the Fenton kid is still there as a ghost!” 

“Well, you and the girls can go deal with that. I will be home with fresh food, a warm blanket, and the new COD game.” 

  Wes tuned the rest of their conversation out. Instead writing down what he had hearn in his notebook. He didn’t know someone had died there. He assumed it was some business that lost all their money or something. But that would explain why every night as he looked out his window he swore he felt someone staring back. 

That night as the rainstorm turned nightmarish, he pushed his chair to the window in his room overlooking the old Fenton Works. If someone lived there he could have seen right into their bedroom. What kind of person lived there? He thought. Were they cool? Did they also like video editing and video games? Or were they like Dash and took sick pleasure in shoving peoples heads into the mystery meat specials. Wes was sure he could still smell it. 

BOOM! Lighting passed between the houses, staining everything a blinding white. He ducked his head and shielded his eyes, but in the bright light there was someone across the alleyway, with neon green eyes watching him. No, observing him. No, they looked like they were trying to say something. 

“Who…” The question sat on the tip of his tongue as the eyes faded into the clap of thunder. 

A week later, Wes stood outside the Fenton Works on a gray cloudy evening, Dash and Kwan standing beside him. The muted tones of the sky turned the world around them into shades of muted gray and blues, except the sign on the front door. The orange No Trespassing sign stood out like a neon flame. 

“Are you sure they are coming?” Kwan said. He looked nervous. 

“Yes! Paulina and Star just passed the Nasty Burger, they should be here soon,” Dash said. “Hey Kid.” 

“It’s Wes.” 

“Yeah, whatever, are you sure you saw something here?” 

“Yes, it was as clear as day, there was someone watching me with these neon green flashlight eyes,” Wes began. 

“Well you better be right. If we don’t see anything I’ll pummel your ass to timbuktu and back. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Wes said. He had only mentioned it to them because he didn’t want to go alone. 

“Hey guys!” Paulina yelled. Her and Star ran up to meet them with a bag of goodies. 

“What do you got babe?” Kwan said. 

“My Mom used to go ghost hunting all the time with friends back in New York, so she let me borrow some of her stuff. We have an EVP, flashlights, motion dictators, and this radio the ghost can speak through,” Star said. 

“A ghost is going to talk to us through that little thing?” Dask asked.

“Well, kind of, the ghost will flip through the radio stations and use whatever words are being broadcasted to speak to us. According to my Mom it can be a bit buggy at times.” 

“I think it’s pretty cool,” Wes said. 

“Thanks dude! I think it's amazing. I didn’t know she had all this stuff,” Star said. 

“And what did you bring Paulina?” Kwan asked. 

“My Mom made me bring a cross, a bottle of holy water, and a knife, just in case. God, she is so annoying,” Paulina pulled out a nine inch hunting knife as she said this. 

“Holy Shit! Paulina’s packing!”

“Don’t shout it Kwan! Do you want to get the cops called on us?” Paulina shoved the knife back into her low rise jeans. 

“Sorry.” 

“On that note let’s get in there, Wes you go first,” Dash said. 

“Me? Why me?”

“Cuz’, you saw the ghost first, now go before it tries to rain on us.” Dash pushed Wes forward. 

The inside of the Fenton works was worse than the outside. A pipe had burst some time ago and the carpet smelled of sour mold. There were some lights from the windows but the rest of the home was dark. Their shoes squished on the carpet, and the standing water threatened to fill their shoes. Through the groans of disgust and fake puking the teenager found their way to the staircase. The downstairs had nothing in it besides a broken stove and a fridge that had been locked shut. Dash and Kwan tried to pull on it but the lock hadn’t rusted through yet. 

The upstairs was picked clean as well. The fading sunlight showed spots on the wallpaper where pictures once hung proudly on display, but now there were brightly colored spots along the fading wall. Dash kicked open a door that was stuck and yelled for the rest. This room had everything, a bed, computer, desk, faded space posters, and action figures along the wall. 

“Woah! Do you think this is his room?” Paulina asked. 

“Whose room?” Star said. 

“The Fenton’s son, I think his name was Danny? According to the news he was messing around in his parents lab and suffered a fatal accident,” Kwan said. 

“And his parents left everything behind?” Wes said. He noticed a large window that looked directly into the building next door. 

“Maybe it was too hard. I hear some parents won’t touch anything that belonged to their kids after they pass,” Paulina brushed the dust off the computer monitor. 

“That is… understandable, but they didn’t even take his clothes with them. Apparently the kid wore briefs,” Dash was rummaging through the drawers. 

“That’s fucked up, Danny didn’t deserve this,” Kwan said. 

“Did you know him?” Wes said. 

“Yeah, we were in the third grade together. I wasn’t really friends with him, he was friends with Tucker, the nerd kid. But he was nice. I remember he did his whole show and tell about space and what it took to become an astronaut,” Kwan said. “We didn’t share a fourth grade teacher, but the school had an assembly when he died.”

“That’s rough buddy,” Dash patted his friend on the back. 

“It’s okay. I didn’t really know him too well, but I felt bad for his sister. She was in sixth grade and during the assembly all she did was cry.” 

“I would too. That’s a lot for a kid to go through,” Star said. “But maybe you can talk to Danny one more time with the radio.” The radio turned on with a loud static noise, with garbled speech mixed in as the dial moved back and forth. “DANNY IF YOU ARE HERE PLEASE LET US KNOW!” 

“Do you have to yell?” Paulina said. Wes could only hear her because he was standing next to her. 

“WHAT DID YOU SAY PAULINA?” 

“NOTHING!”

“OKAY!” 

“DANNY IF YOU ARE STILL HERE, MAKE THE RADIO SAY YES!” Star yelled. 

The radio flickered between a few channels “...zzzz…Now…Yes sir!...Home…” 

“KWAN DID YOU HEAR THAT! DANNY IS HERE!” 

“STAR THE RADIO IS TOO LOUD!”” Kwan yelled 

“WHAT!” 

“OH MY FUCKING GOD STAR!” Kwan grabbed the radio and turned down the volume. “Does it have to be that loud?” 

“Yes, we have to make sure the ghost can hear it.” 

“Star the ghost is dead, not deaf,” Dash said. “Here Wes grab the radio and let’s do it again.” 

“Why me?”

“Because you saw the ghost, maybe it left some ghost trace on you that will make the radio work better.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works but whatever,” Wes took the radio from Kwan. “Hey Danny, are you here?” 

The radio flickered, “zzz…YES sir you are getting …. Yes … hello…zzz” 

“Omg did you hear it! He said yes! Quick, someone ask him another question!” Star began to jump with joy. 

“Danny, how old are you?” Paulina asked. 

“zzz…Now for the low price of nine, nine, nine, nine, nine, nine, nine, nine…zzz”

“Danny, how did you die?” Dash asked. 

“zzz… Supernatural … GHOST! … Home … Man … zzz” 

“What does that mean?” Dash said. 

“I don’t know. Danny, can you try again, we don’t understand?” Paulina said. 

“Zzz… Ghostly ghouls .. you are now entering … ghost! … Twilight Zone …” 

“Did you guys understand that? Paulina said. 

“Nope.” 

“No.” 

“Something about ghosts?” 

“Nah. Try something else, like where did he die?” Wes said. 

“Danny, where did you die?” Paulina asked the box once more. 

“Zzz… deep down below … Dad’s workshop … she opened the basement door … AHHH! ..zzz” 

“It sounds like it was in the basement?’ Wes said. 

“I don’t wanna walk through that carpet again, it’s so gross.” Star said. 

“You don't have much of a choice Star,” Dash said. 

“Here Babe, I’ll carry you,” Kwan scooped her sup in his arms. 

“Awww! Thank you Babe!” 

Paulina looked to Dash. “What?” Dash said. 

“Nothing,” Paulina rolled her eyes. 

The basement smelled of rot and decay, and like Danny’s room it was filled with stuff. Parts of the room had a strange green glow to it. It wasn't bright enough to illuminate anything, but when Wes moved his flashlight he could see it was emitting some light. 

“Okay Danny, what happened here?” Wes asked. 

“Zzz.. Zone … just turn it on and … bright lights of the city … hole deep below…zzz”

“Did you turn one of your parents' experiments on?” Star asked, her arms wrapped around Kwan’s neck. 

“Zzz.. yes.. Pain.. lights … AHHH!...zzz” 

“Omg! Kwan did you hear that?” 

“Yeah, poor Danny.” 

“Danny, why haven’t you left yet?” Wes asked the box. 

“Zzz … Mommy … Daddy … Jazz ha- … alone … zzz” 

“Oh Danny,” Paulina sounded like she was about to start crying soon. 

“Danny, your parents left. Why don’t you follow them?” Wes asked. 

“Wes! You can’t just ask a ghost that?” Star said. 

“Why not?”

“Ghosts are stuck where they die, Danny can’t leave.” 

The radio box sprung to life once again, “zzz… no! … he’s stuck in quicksand … Mommy! …zzz”

“Well can we do anything?” Wes asked Star. 

“We can help him pass on, usually you just have to find out what killed them or tell a relative some dark secret or something. My Mom was telling me that ghosts only stay behind when they have unfinished business.” 

“Okay kid, what do you want?” Dash asked. 

“Zzz… Mommy and Daddy … Jazz hands … Okay! Okay! Okay! … Love you! … zzz” 

“Uhhh kid, we don't know where your parents are, can we do something else?” Dash said. 

“Dash! Don’t be so mean,” Paulina shouted. 

“What, it’s the truth, nobody knows where the Fentons moved to. Plus I heard that the Dad was thrown in prison for child endangerment anyways. We can’t bust him out of prison,” 

The radio box flew out of Wes’s hands, the volume rising as the box did. 

“zzz… Mommy! DADDY! MOMMY! DADDY! … zzz” Junk started flying around them, slamming against the walls and trying to slam against them. 

“Oh shit! Run!” Dash shoved Wes out of the way and b-lined it to the door. Paulina grabbed Wes and they followed Kwan up the stairs. The floor rocking as they ran through the water and mold. Wes slammed the door shut behind them and kept running with the others into the night. He looked behind once to see a pair of eyes watching them.

[frozenwolftemplar]

Writer's Month Day 22: Sun Screen

Fandom: Tangled: the Series

Rating: G

Word Count: 983

Summary: No plot, just Eugene and Rapunzel rummaging through a storage closet; I have hit the point in Writer's Month where I have decided that they can't all be masterpieces. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I don't usually make statements of certainty, but I can guarantee that no one else approached the prompt of 'Sunscreen' like this (very, very, very loosely). 😅

+++

“You’re sure it’s *this* one, Sunshine?”

“That’s what Mom said. And, well,” Rapunzel lifted her candle higher to better take in the creatively named Storage Closer Number Eleven and the miscellany that was crammed in from wall to wall. “With this much stuff in it, there’s bound to be a screen or two in here somewhere.”

It was Eugene’s first summer having the captainship of the Royal Guard, and it had taken him all of a week to learn one small detail of the position Cap had failed to mention: his new office, with its curtain-less southern-facing windows, got hot. From it’s rising in the morning to disappearance behind the western peaks, the merciless summer sun shone, with an enthusiasm and vigor it would do his men good to imitate, directly into the office, heating the space so it was only marginally less unbearable than Xavier’s forges.

This, Eugene had decided before Wednesday had made its bow, could not go on; either the office had to relocate or the windows needed to vamoose. Seeing how the neither the former nor the latter was a possibility, Rapunzel put forth a compromise: perhaps they could cover the windows? Granted, with the Festival of Fashion on the horizon and a Seven Kingdom Summit imminent, there wasn’t a spare needle to be found to make curtains, but maybe they could find some?

Her Majesty had been chancing past their quarters just then, and brought with her a proposed solution: some years ago, before both their times, there had been a rage for screens. Usually relegated to the fireside to best direct the hearth’s heat and light, people had realize the versatility they offered and began making them in a variety of sizes for just as many purposes, one of the most popular being blocking the sun’s dogged rays in the summer months. They’d ended up with quite a few, more than they needed; surely they could be put to such a purpose as shielding the Captain’s Office?

“And you needn’t worry about them clashing with the décor,” Arianna had chuckled. “Cassandra, as I recall, spent more of that summer than she would have liked recovering from a bad flu and painted a couple.”

If Rapunzel hadn’t already been convinced, that did it (and, Eugene could admit, he was curious to see some of younger-Cass’s handiwork; mildly concerned, since he knew how arts and crafts with her tended to go, but still curious). Hence their spending valuable and elusive free-time exploring the depths of Storage Closet Eleven, something he was starting to think wasn’t their best idea…

Eugene gulped, taking in the cavern of a closet. Teetering piles of crates frowned menacingly from shadow-drenched corners guarded by a labyrinth of chests and trunks and castle furnishings too nice to throw away not nice enough to display (or, in some cases, downright extraneous; he *swore* there was a sette *exactly like that* in one of the guest suites) that would have had Theseus saying “Nope” and doing an about-face (Greek mythology was decidedly not his area of interest, but he’d hung around Cass long enough). Not a square inch of the place looked remotely safe or like it wasn't waiting for an ankle to turn, rib to crack, or insanely handsome face to crush.

“You know, the sun really isn’t all that strong in the Captain’s Office, now that I’m thinking about it. How’s ‘bout we just let sleeping coatracks lie and besides,” Eugene shuddered as his candle found the snarling head of a bearskin rug. “Trip’s not a total loss: look, I just found Dad’s birthday present!”

“Oh, come on, Eugene!” Rapunzel grinned over her shoulder at him as she picked her way between an armoire with one door off its hinges and an ancient-looking chest held shut with a padlock that looked strangely new (did he want to know…?). “It’s not that bad!”

As though on cue, a vase (how were there so many vases in this castle?) fell from one of the stacks and shattered to death on an ink-stained desktop, sending a small army of mice squeaking and scurrying to new, relatively safer shadows.

Eugene shot Rapunzel a deadpan look.

She was, of course, undaunted. “We’ve been through worse. Like that forest with the bat-spider things, remember?”

How could he forget? How could anyone? “Low bar we’re clearing there, eh Sunshine?”

“Eugene...”

“Fine.” Eugene gave up with a huff, shuffling around so the snarling bear rug was out of his line of sight. “But if we find anything that looks remotely magical, haunted, or like it has a personal vendetta against good-looking Captains and their beautiful wives, we call retreat.”

“Yes sir, Captain, sir.” Rapunzel saluted, then giggled at his eyeroll before turning her attention to a dust-covered drop cloth. “Anyway, so long as we don’t get distracted or run into any hourglasses-" (again, did he want to know?) "-I’m sure we’ll find those screens in no time.”

‘No time,’ as it turned out, was long enough for Eugene to start questioning if they should replace the candles. Rapunzel, true to form, found interest and excitement and potential in even the dustiest, most pathetic excuse for a tablecloth (“It wouldn’t be that hard to fix it up”), causing their search to drag on far longer than Eugene would have liked. Eventually, though, the proper dropcloth was yanked aside- *cough cough COUGH!* “Sunshine!” “Oops! Sorry!” – and the screens, standing dutiful and unbothered on their burnished wood poles, were unearthed.

“Yay!” Rapunzel cheered, clapping her hands and jumping in place. “I told you we’d find them!” (a lot later than she’d initially thought, but finding was still finding, so this was still a win!). She started rifling through the screens, bases scraping across the floor as she peered critically at the flowers and suns and rolling hills of landscapes decorating the linen screens. “I wonder which ones Cass did?”

Eugene huffed, pulling out a screen decorated with a scene of Phaeton losing his hold on a quartet of fiery steeds, each one with murder in its eyes, and tumbling head-first out of Apollo’s chariot to his tragic doom.

"Well, I'm not the art expert here," he said with a grim smile as Rapunzel's hand flew to cover her mouth as she took in the...interesting tableau. “But I can guess.”

+++

Author's Note: ...nothing happened in this; you have my apologies. 🤦‍♀️

[homular]

Charming Cuisine: French Country Kitchen Decor Ideas

Full Interior Design Solutions in Bhubaneswar: If you're unsure of where to start when designing your kitchen in the French country style, start by picturing a simple, rustic French farmhouse kitchen. Imagine periwinkle linens and a huge oak table with sunlight streaming in. Using natural materials and light, airy hues, French country warmth and familiarity are achieved.

Step 1

Pick a paint color. Choose a shade of fresh summer grass, off-white, yellow, light blue, pale terra cotta, or any combination of those. Choosing checkered blue or yellow window coverings is a good idea if your walls are white. Wainscoting and chair rails should either be coated with a clear finish or stained in a light tint; they shouldn't be overly polished. Images of flowers or French cafes in bright, quirky frames should be shown. Simply frame them with black. The backs of your sink and stove should be covered with ceramic tile backsplashes with roosters and flowers.

Step 2

Choose a table with a thick slab of wood for the tabletop that has a rustic appearance. Give it a faint color wash. Chairs might be light wood, painted, or made of cast or wrought iron. Curves in the ironwork and pillows with floral or pattern Best Home Interior Designer in Bhubaneswar help soften this. Tables and chairs can be made of wood that hasn't been stained.

Step 3

Cabinets might be painted off-white, pale blue, yellow, or green or stained in a light color. Despite having rustic accents, a French country Modular Kitchen Design in Bhubaneswar must never be unduly dark or heavy. It is best to lightly stain or paint large hardwood tables and cabinets with light wood accents.

Step 4

Install floors made of brick, stone, or wood, and cover them with rugs made of cotton that are of generous size. To keep the décor French country rustic, if you want a fireplace, construct it out of stone. As a mantle, position a substantial beam over the fireplace. Put some light paint on it.

Step 5

Add off-white plaster in between the beams and install beamed ceilings. Utilize ceramic containers in various colors as decor. The table's centerpiece should be a big green plant in a pale blue pot.

Rakesh Rout

www.homular.in

9853233422

[merrybrides]

Yellow Wedding Ideas

If happiness were a color, it would be yellow. And since your wedding day will likely be one of the happiest of your life, adding the sunny hue to your décor is especially apt. Of course, not every couple wants a yellow-centric wedding color palette—but that doesn't mean you can't find a way to incorporate the shade (however small!) if you're drawn to it. All you have to do is choose the moment that feels right, whether that entails adding bright blooms to your bridal bouquet, serving up a yellow signature cocktail, or dressing your bridesmaids in yellow.

Yellow Lemon Watercolor Summer Wedding Invitation