#Victorian pedestal desk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zeydaan-isabella · 1 year ago

Photo

Isabella and The Grimoire

Story by AxiomTF - Isabella finds a mysterious tome out on a scavenging mission which whispers secrets of great power. Its influence unable to be shaken regardless of what form they take. Seems Stolas wants a loyal Hellhound to 'fetch' his lost Grimoire.

The air was still, and the night was still young as the Hawkmoths crew searched around the dimly lit hallways of some long forgotten manor. They had arrived in a rather strange dimension for this particular excursion across the multiverse - one which seemed to be empty and void of any kind of life. Dotted around barren fields filled with decaying flowers, grass, and trees, were a selection of houses, crypts, small castles and other settlements that were all gothic, aesthetically speaking. It was as if this place was just one giant haunted house, stretched out for hundreds of miles… though the Hawkmoths were hoping that this place didn’t include any actual haunted elements one might find within the walls of a haunted house. “Ugh… this place really gives me the creeps. Why can’t we ever go somewhere nice for a change? Y’know… like some tropical beach or something, instead of deathtraps and horror movie locations?” “Because these places often contain the things we can get some use out of… magical items, dimensional tools… these things don’t tend to just be laying around in easy-to-get areas. If they were, almost anyone would waltz around and find them… and we’d be out of a job most likely. It’s only us who ever go to these sorts of places.” Lilith responds to Ashley, as they scour through an ornate chest filled with various doodads and cobwebs, rummaging around for something useful inside. The small torches mounted upon their heads help to illuminate what was before them, though apart from that, the only source of light here came from the full moon, which was shining through the Victorian era windows. There was a slight draft in this room, too, which served to make the dishevelled house to creak and shake slightly, and send shivers up the spines of the pair every minute or so. “I suppose… I dunno, I’m just saying a change in scenery would be appreciated every now and then. To boost morale and all of that? “Yeah… I get what you mean… though work is work, and there’s nothing stopping us from visiting such places in our own free time. Anyways, there’s nothing in this thing, and I think we’ve searched through the entirety of this floor. I think Alvis and Isabella were covering the basement, and we already did the ground floor when we came in. Shall we go and wait on the front porch until they’re done? When they are, I reckon it’s about time we call it a day and head back to Mailor.” “Yeah… that sounds good to me. Let’s just hope that they’ve had some better luck than we have at finding things.” Having agreed upon a plan, the pair pack up their equipment, and head out of the small guest bedroom they were searching, with the wooden floorboards creaking and squeaking with each step they take. Meanwhile, down in the basement, Alvis was examining the contents of a desk drawer, which amongst old bits of parchment and junk, contained some old-fashioned jewellery. It was certainly nothing useful for dimensional travel, but it would certainly be worth a bit of money back home, and since there seemed to be no owner around here… well, Alvis figured that those fine pieces would be better kept under their watch for now. Whilst Alvis was pillaging the contents of the desk, their friend and fellow teammate, Isabella, stood in a small sideroom, located in the corner of the larger main room of this basement. When they had entered, the air seemed to consist of around 50% oxygen, and 50% cobweb, which had taken a good while to remove; thankfully no spiders seemed to be living in the small space, at the very least. That’s when Isabella saw it, sitting upon a cracked stone pedestal at the far end of the room - a beautiful grimoire. It was a dark navy colour, the front being adorned with a crescent moon, along with sequins to seemingly represent various constellations. Curious, Isabella went to pick up the book, taking a deep breath before puffing away the dust which had settled upon the hardback cover. It didn’t quite seem to belong in this house, having a strange aura to it as they looked it over. Plus, unlike most of the other things in the house, it was still in pretty good physical condition, whereas most of the other books the team had seen thus far on bookshelves were frayed, torn, and musty. They open it up, flicking through the off-white pages which had incantations written upon them in some archaic-looking language, along with strange diagrams and demonic seals… this thing seemed like it could cause nothing but trouble, though in spite of that, Isabella felt oddly compelled by it. After thumbing through random pages for a couple of seconds, they land upon one inscribed with an image of a wolf, along with occult imagery such as a pentagram and a few different seals. Like the rest of the book, nothing there seems to be written in English, as the fey dragon leans closer to inspect what looks like some kind of faint watermark… ZAP! Isabella is suddenly hit with a sharp jolt of lightning as their fingertips brushed over the mark, which had begun to glow a faint red. The static discharge runs up their arm and is quickly passed throughout the rest of their body, prompting them to convulse for a split second as their muscles seized up. The book falls to the floor with a loud thud, as a cloud of dust gets kicked up as it makes contact with the decaying wooden floorboards. Isabella stumbles back, catching themselves by leaning upon the wall. “Ah… ugh… w-what the hell was that… s-shit, that really hurt…” They mutter to themselves, taking in deep breaths as they take a moment to steady themselves, before pushing off of the wall. They glance over at the book, wondering what could have caused that to happen when the door behind them swings open - Alvis had heard the commotion, coming in to investigate. “What was all that noise? Isabella, you good in here?” They ask, scanning the room for possible danger until they spot the grimoire laying upon the floor, now open on a random page after hitting the groud. “What’s this… you find this in here?” They ask curiously, taking a step towards it when Isabella is overcome with a strange sense of possessiveness… they found that grimoire, not Alvis… it was theirs! And with that thought, Isabella quickly strides forward, picking the book up and pulling it close to their chest, following with a somewhat dirty look aimed at their friend. “It’s nothing. Just something I found in here… I can handle it.” “Now now, no need to get agitated, I was just asking is all. Besides, I think I’ve snagged a decent amount of loot from this place already - I got my fair share, don’t you worry. I’m gonna head upstairs and meet the others, I’ll see you up there once you’re done, ‘kay?” Alvis responds, giving Isabella a wink, though their face doesn’t really change from its rather sour expression, as Alvis turns around to head back into the room they were previously in. Isabella collects themselves, placing their newly acquired grimoire into a satchel, before leaving the room to meet up with the rest of their team. Since Alvis had already left the main basement room by the time Isabella entered it, it was safe to say that it had been thoroughly picked clean, and consequently, there was little point in trying to scavenge around further. Whenever Alvis was tasked with gathering things, they never left anything unturned. Isabella travelled up the rickety basement stairs, hearing the chitter-chatter of their team above them, which was mostly drowned out by the squeaky, creaking floorboards beneath their feet. After having made their rendezvous, the team’s return home was rather swift - after having completed their search of the abandoned property, there was no reason to loiter around. Summoning a portal back to Mailor, the whole crew jumps through it - a whirlwind of light and magical energy whizzes by them as they weave through the spaces in between dimensions. Simultaneously, Isabella is briefly cloaked in a magical fog, their body warping and shimmering for a moment until the form of Zeydaan appears in their place, all before the Hawkmoths are spat out back in their headquarters. Dr. Asriel glances up from his workbench, seeing his friends find their footing before returning his attention back to the machine he was currently tinkering around with. “Welcome back you guys. Anything eventful happen this time? Mind you, I don’t really think anything we do would be considered ‘uneventful’ by most… y’know what I’m getting at.” “Nah, not too much really… that place was totally abandoned, so we just had a look around and snagged a couple of things to us to sell or use… in fact, on that note, I found this for you doc~” Lilith says, before rummaging around in their pockets, and then tossing a small purple stone in the general direction of the doctor. They are caught off-guard by this, as they lurch upwards and try to catch the stone in their left hand. It ends up bouncing off their palm, and falling onto their desk, before Asirel lets out a sigh, shaking their head a little. They examine the stone, realising that it’s an Alonack Crystal - something which could be used as a sort of magical energy sponge, and was just the thing Asirel needed for a little project they were currently working on. “You are aware that you have legs, right? Which you could use to just stroll on over and hand it to me, right?” “Hey, just working on my 3-pointer is all Doc.” “Uh-huh, very amusing. Regardless… thank you for that Lilith, this’ll be really useful I’m sure.” Asriel replies with a slight smile upon his face, as the rest of the crew head over to their private rooms, wanting a well-deserved rest after a hard days work, including Zeydaan. Asriel leans over their desk, looking at them skimming through the pages of the grimoire they’d brought home. “You get that whilst out there, Zey? I wouldn’t mess with that thing, y’know... might have some nasty magic trapped inside. I would much rather do some tests on it first - find out if it holds anything unpleasant before you do any leisurely reading.” “Whatever… I don’t care. I can handle myself.” They respond abruptly, rolling their eyes before slamming the door shut, silencing the distant sounds of machines whirring in the central room of the headquarters. “Hm… seems as if someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning…” Asriel comments, finding their friend’s attitude rather off, as they return to their work. Meanwhile, Zeydaan takes a secret, underground pathway, located underneath the HQ which was connected to their little cottage home. It’s only a short walk, and before long, they arrive back at their own cosy house. They go up their stairs, entering the bedroom before taking a seat upon the single bed in their room, placing the grimoire on their lap as they start to flick through the thick pages. It had really been dominating their mind ever since they’d found it, back at that old house. Zeydaan was infatuated by what it all meant, along with what power it might hold… not realising that such a power had already taken hold of them. Thumbing through the pages, their eyes start to sting a bit, as their irises start to shift in colour… or more specifically, to a lack of one as they fade to white. In contrast to this, their sclera turns bloodshot, building up more and more until it’s become completely red. The book seems to shimmer a little bit, as the transformation progresses, morphing Zeydaan’s body without them realising it. Their fur starts to bleach as the colour slowly drains out of it, tufts of grey fur bleeding out to cover up the blues which were there before, whilst they find their already sharp teeth getting even more so. It was as if they were a sword on a grindstone, getting worked on by whatever magical force the grimoire contained, as they become razor sharp within just a few seconds. Their chest starts to flatten, shrinking down to become more modest, as some amount of body fat they had is burnt away, giving them a slightly more slender figure. Dropping around 20 pounds was just enough to make their uniform feel a bit loose, as Zeydaan starts thinking about how… lame it looked. Like, it just didn’t feel like their style at all. The idea of having to wear any kind of uniform at all also just seemed to be very unappealing to the wolf now; the thought of being told how to dress was a deeply irritating one. No one was gonna tell them how to dress from now on, they think to themselves, smirking, with this internal proclamation giving them a newfound sense of empowerment. Though a wardrobe change would have to wait for just a little while longer, due to the fact that they didn’t really have any alternate clothing options in this room with them, at the present time. Zeydaan rubs their eyes, looking up at the clock, as they notice how late it was… usually they were more of a night owl, or at least they felt they way now, though the recent trip they’d taken today with the rest of the Hawkmoths had left them feeling particularly drained. Their attention turns to their bed, as they figure it was about time to hit the hay. As they wander over, they rub their eyes, stopping for a moment as they prick themselves ever so slightly… since when had their claws been so sharp? Maybe they just needed cutting, they wondered nonchalantly to themself, whilst their tail grew out to be longer and fuller, the fur getting thicker too, as their new grey look even spread to coat over their tail. They clamber into bed, feeling somewhat off, though they have not yet perceived any of the changes which had occurred to their form thus far. Closing their eyes, Isabella feels much more content than they had been a few hours ago, with this new, rather abrasive and aggressive persona they’d adopted seeming very natural to them already. They didn’t stop to consider where this sudden change of heart may have originated from, as they slowly drift off to sleep. This slumber, however, doesn’t prove to be a very lengthy or restful one though, as in the middle of the night, Zeydaan awakes in a cold sweat. Whilst their mind was struggling to comprehend the goetic magic which had cursed them, their body had taken notice, seemingly trying to fight it off like some sort of invasive disease. Zeydaan looks down at their body, taking a moment to process what they were seeing, until at last, their brain was able to clear the mental hurdle that had been preventing them from noticing the changes which’d been made to their body thus far. “Oh my goodness… this isn’t right! W-What the hell is happening to me…” They blurt out, before covering their mouth in shock after hearing their own voice… only it wasn’t their voice… it sounded totally different - the accent, the pitch, even the cadence of the way their words came out had changed. They scramble out of their bed, shoving the bed sheets off of them as they fall into a heap on the floor, as they make their way over to the opposite side of the room before stopping. A large, thin mirror leans against the masonry, a very fine layer of dust coated over it. Zeydaan examines it from a distance, inspecting it in order to kill some time before they would inevitably have to take a look at themselves in the reflection… they grimaced at the thought of what it’d most likely show them. With a deep breath, they step forward before the mirror, as they look at themselves. They had become almost unrecognisable. Whilst still clearly a wolf, their features had seemed to have gotten much more feminine, not to mention their fur now having various shades of grey all over. Their uniform, once relatively figure-hugging, had gotten slightly baggy, whilst their new, piecing hellhound eyes stared back at them in the reflection. Though the strangest thing of all - the thing that worried Zeydaan the most, was ironically their lack of worry about their new appearance. They found that they didn’t seem to mind it too much, nor care about how this could have come to pass. They take a moment, thinking of what they could do to handle the current situation, until they get an idea - perhaps switching to their other form would wipe the changes that’d happened to them? Resetting them, in a way? Seeing no other options they could try out at this present time, Zeydaan concentrates, and within a few seconds, the wolf morphs into their fey dragon counterpart, a hazy cloud of magic enveloping their body during this brief process, like how it had during their trip home last evening. They keep their eyes closed throughout, and once it’s over, they open them slowly, and gaze upon the mirror again in the hopes that they have been successful. Alas, they were met with a disappointing sight, as Isabella’s body was still halfway through the process of turning into… well, whoever it was that they were becoming. The grey fur still covered their body, along with their demonic eyes looking no different than they did ten seconds ago. And to add insult to injury, they observed the transformations resume once more, though they are now aware of it happening… Isabella’s yellow horns slowly begin to recede, getting thinner and shorter with each passing second, whilst their pink hair starts to grow longer with added volume. Much like their body fur, it’s desaturated until it’s completely grey and colourless. It even seems to style itself as it grows, sweeping itself over to one side, whilst two holes get punched into Isabella’s ears, in order to put earrings into, making them wince a bit. Their waist slenderises some more, giving them a shapely figure, whilst the end of their nose hardens a bit, turning slightly moist and dark until a canine nose forms at the end of their snout, much like Zeydaan would have. Their eyelashes lengthen, as they start to calm down with each passing second. They aren’t sure why this is, still not having considered that this was all the grimoire’s doing. That’s when a new thought starts to brew in their mind… they’d been wondering why they weren’t overly alarmed by all of this… why they hadn’t let their friends know this was happening to them… there’s one simple reason behind it all. They liked this. Isabella didn’t want it to stop, in spite of knowing that it was changing them into a totally new form. What they were becoming seemed to fit them perfectly, as they chuckle to themselves, posing in front of the mirror. They wish they had their phone with them to snap a couple of photos, though they could always do that later. Isabella smiles, feeling much better about themselves, as once again they become oblivious to the changes happening to them, after accepting it in their heart. New memories start to form in their mind, co-existing with their ‘real’ ones. They’re very hazy… something about working in an office, with little creatures comes to their mind, along with a general sense of angryness and teenage rebelliousness. They take the book, finding that it now seemed to make a little more sense. Loona flicks through it, wondering if there was a way that she could avoid her friends doing something about her new form, as they come upon a page which seemingly could help her create a portal to a dimension that would be well-hidden from the Hawkmoths “Zeydaan! Stop that… put the book down okay? Damn, I told you that thing could have done something like this!” Asirel shouts, the rest of the team standing behind them, as if ready to pounce. “I know… just leave me alone, alright? Why can’t you guys just let me do this? I’m not gonna go back to living that life!” Loona snaps back, as they place their hand upon the open page of the grimoire, feeling its magic flow through them as it starts to glow a crimson colour. Seeing this, Asriel stands aside, allowing Lilith to pass him as they run over, their feets thuping rhythmically against the floor as they go to snatch the book away from their friend… though they didn’t get to them nearly soon enough. A portal opens up after Loona reads the incantation on the page out loud - it spun around and around, flicking specks of magical red light about the place, like some kind of hellish sparkler. Without a moment's hesitation, she dives through it, as the rest of the Hawkmoths go to pursue their friend through the portal… only it’s already too late, as it seals back up before they can reach it. Loona doesn’t spend a great amount of time travelling through this portal, as they sometimes did when dimension hopping with the Hawkmoths. Before long, they came out of the other end with some speed, causing them to lose their footing and tumble onto the floor on the way out - the portal closing behind them in the blink of an eye. Getting up off of the floor, Loona finds herself in some kind of… shopping centre? At least it was one filled with an assortment of hellish creatures - imps, demons, sinners, hellhounds… they populated the entire area, making it quite an odd sight indeed... though one that didn’t seem too alien to her, as her new memories started to get more clear. This was her home… she lived here, in Imp City, within the Pride Ring. After taking a moment to observe her new surroundings, her attention was brought back to the fact that she was still wearing her old uniform, which had been slightly strained and torn during her transformation thus far, not to mention the slight scrape during her tumble. Loona stops to think for a moment, spotting a clothing store at the end of one of the hallways before her. She figures that it’d be wise to ditch this lame outfit for something more her style… plus, it’d make it pretty damn easy for her former colleagues to spot her if… or rather, when they came looking for her, if she was still wearing that thing. The hellhound makes her way over to the store. Taking a step inside, she can see that the place is totally empty, barring a small, stocky imp lady behind the cash register, who currently had her head down in some kind of lifestyle magazine. The store was split-up into different sections, as Loona wandered over to the back which seemingly contained mostly gothic, dark articles of clothing. She places her furry hand upon a carousel of shirts, flicking through as she feels her body twitch a little… now that she had returned to her proper home, the last of her changes were about to commence… Her snout slenderises, getting a bit thinner and longer, whilst she spots a lovely pair of black shorts, adorned with a grey crescent moon on either side. Her toenails grow to be equally as sharp as her fingers and teeth had gotten, whilst the fur from just above her knees, to the bottom of her feet becomes a darker grey tone. She picks out a spiked black dog collar, checking to see if it fastens, as she leaves it on. Tucked away at the back of this rack, she finds a faded blue crop top, with black straps at the top shaped like a pentagram. She carries her chosen garments into a little changing room, as she quickly strips down and tosses her old uniform aside, having no intentions of ever donning it again. Loona stuffs it behind one of the chairs in the rooms, before dressing herself in the clothing she’d picked out. As she does so, she realises that she’s not carrying any money on her to pay for these items… though the cashier didn’t seem to be too attentive to the store right now… it was unlikely she’d notice that one of the customers had gotten a change in attire whilst browsing. Loona chuckles to herself, watching herself in the mirror, before quickly leaving the store. On the way out, she nabs a pair of black faux earrings, stuffing them into one of her short’s pockets to put on later. Though just before they can leave, Loona feels a presence behind them, before they are tapped on the shoulder. “Hello there dear… I hope your trip wasn’t too bad getting here.” A voice asks from behind the hellhound, causing her to jump slightly - of course, she does her best to play it off cool, turning around with a frown to be greeted by a tall, lanky owl demon. He was adorned in regal, expensive looking clothing which seemed to be tailor-fitted to his form, as he gave Loona a warm smile. “I’m Stolas… and don’t worry, I’m aware that you’re not from this place. I’m afraid that my Blitzy has recently been using my grimoire to explore new places and realms, and had gotten it lost in the process a little while ago. Though thankfully, you have returned it to me now… I knew it was only a matter of time.” He explains, before holding out a hand, clearly signalling his desire for her to voluntarily surrender the grimoire to him, and in spite of Loona having grown so attached to it after discovering it in that dank, dark basement… this felt right. It had helped her out already, and now, it needed to be returned to its proper owner - she had little use for it at this stage, after all. Loona nods silently, before lifting the book up and presenting it to Stolas, who promptly takes it from her. “Just be more careful with it next time, okay? You should know that Blitz sure as hell won’t take much care of that thing when he has it.” “Of course, though it’s nothing I can’t handle dear. Now then, I have some business to attend to… and I’m guessing that you do too? I believe you’re expected in Blitzy’s office right around this time, so I’ll leave you be darling - you take care of him now, whilst you’re working away there~” The goetic prince asks of her, before strolling out of the store with a particularly flamboyant stride. At last, their transformation, both physical and mental, was complete - they were Loona, through and through. It felt good to have gotten rid of the grimoire… now that it had served its purpose, it was better left in the avian hands of the prince… and his little imp boyfriend, when the occasion called for that. Loona leaves the mall, wandering down the busy, sketchy streets of the city, as the blood red sky above her basks the buildings in an ominous hue. They wonder when the Hawkmoths would be able to track her down… deep down, she knew it’d come, in time, though for now they were free… and this thought was a pleasant one, as she arrives at her place of work. Looking up at the office complex which towered up before them, Loona felt at home… even if said home was a place they’d rather not be at most of the time. Being a receptionist was a rather boring job, and most of the calls she’d receive throughout the day often were either prank calls or wrong numbers - the time in between those often being spent browsing social media on her phone. Still, as a hellhound, her situation could be much, much worse, and whilst she’d never admit it, she liked the others she was with there. The thought of her former teammates faded to the back of her mind; they would most likely come for her at some point in the future, and find a way to bring back who they once were, though thanks to the chaotic nature of this dimension, that may take a good while indeed.

5 notes · View notes

transdike · 10 months ago

Text

An excerpt from an early draft of my current WIP A Funeral for Stella Carson

Content Warnings for: Violence, Death, Gore, Dismemberment, & Shitty Exes

Hard wood floors groaned under her feet as she entered, dust swirling in the air as the door shut behind her. Everything was covered in dust, a fine gray-black layer over a perfect Victorian bedroom. Dark woods prevailed: from the small canopied bed and the towering mirror face of the wardrobe, to the agonized faces in the carved relief above the fireplace and the writing desk that lay opposite. Cobwebs hung heavy from the crown molding. The dying embers in the hearth cast a low and cooling light, but despite this Stella still felt the terrible heat.

A small chair faced away towards the fireplace. A pedestal was set next to it with a crystal glass of bourbon. In the chair was a woman. She wore an expansive white dress that trailed on the floor towards the fireplace, ends burnt and smoking as if she had been feeding it to the flames. Light blonde hair curled towards her face, with its porcelain features. When she spoke Stella knew it was with a startling solidity, hard as diamond.

Primrose Dearly looked at her with deep, vacuous eyes. She had been Stella's first girlfriend, her confidant, her rival. Prim had ardently challenged her at any opportunity and on any topic. In high-school she used to pull Stella out of the driver's seat anytime she tried to drive, tossing her to the pavement and chastising Stella for her awful driving and self defense alike. They had been co-presidents of the school's bible study group for two months, before being simultaneously kicked out. Stella would beat her GPA and Prim would break into her room, stealing anything not nailed down. Prim won a contest to visit Hawaii and Stella made out with other girls until she'd gotten mono and then gave it to Prim the week before the trip.

It had taken Stella years and a lot of therapy to really understand what had been so toxic in their relationship; the therapy had been a last ditch effort by her mother, after a particularly disastrous anniversary of Prim's death. Stella knew that the woman in front of her wasn't her Prim, was just another copy, she had seen the body, but this Prim was staring at her in that exact way and with that specific, totally fake, grin. The corners of her mouth pulled up just so, neutrally happy but very amused, like she had known all along what happened next. Stella used to practice it in the mirror. That longing, which had died with Primrose and been buried in church and therapy, was returned to her.

"Is this really you?" asked Primrose. "You have so many pretenders," and she stood up, dust falling away from her body like dry sand. It flicked away last from her lashes as she finally blinked, her eyes off of Stella for a microsecond. It was cold outside her gaze.

"I think I knew you were here," replied Stella.

"I have seen you here exponentially, but none of them knew me and fewer found me," she took a drink, the film of dust on the liquor’s surface not reacting, like a ghost, "and do you know how sad it is, to find that someone you hold so highly in your heart knows you in only, what, one in a thousand lifetimes? But, now you're here, and mine again."

"You aren't mine," said Stella, her thoughts held supernaturally still.

"We understand each other, regardless." She smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. "Please follow me, dearest." The wardrobe opened to reveal a staircase. The mirror face turned and Stella saw herself in the reflection. Taller by more than a head next to Primrose, dark hair unkempt and her clothes shabby. Her eyes were glassy and filled with something she didn’t recognize. The ends of her dress had torn, while the borrowed shoes were damp and uncomfortable. She looked like a chronically tired and messy woman.

Prim stepped into the wardrobe and through to a cold stone staircase, her gown trailing downwards behind her. Completely anachronistic to the warm room they had left above, here everything was damp. The walls were sealed with a waxy slime that oozed thickest from the higher bricks and grew darker in color as they spiraled down. Every step had large indentations where her feet set down, like people had been walking this pathway for hundreds of years. The walls closed in on them as they descended, narrower and tighter until Stella’s shoulders brushed against the sides. Brown wax clung to her.

Primrose was always just out of sight, her trailing dress kept Stella several steps behind. Her thin frame was perfectly suited to the tight space, like it had been built for her. Absently, the barest passing thought, Stella wondered why she wasn't frightened. She wasn't afraid, nor did she feel she could throw her arms around Prim and cry with the relief of seeing her again.

“You wore glasses. My you did.” said Stella; talking was the only thing she seemed capable of.

“I did as well. I got better, this place has miracles if you put your faith in it.”

“To me, you died.”

“So passive. You died as well,” Primrose paused, “I missed you.”

“I missed you.”

“Was it fire?”

“Yes,” Stella said slowly.

“I died. I… died,” Primrose rolled the word on her tongue. Testing it out.

“Years of therapy.”

“Mrs. Worlington?”

“No, I left town. Big city shrink.”

“I stayed. I stayed and walked by the ruin of your house every day knowing you were no longer within. That sounds like a much worse fate.”

“The city has to be worse. Thousands and thousands of people who don’t give a shit about you, packed tight like sardines. Also, it smells terrible. Like Weed, and Piss, and Gasoline.” This was a familiar rapport.

“And full of therapists who are not Mrs. Worlington and her lisp.”

“Mrs. Worlington never actually cared if you showed up, just marked your session as complete and billed it. You ditched every one, didn’t you?” The city, big enough and loud enough an organ to animate in the stead of her own beating red heart, removed and locked still away in a dream blue tote kept under the stairs of a house that didn’t exist.

They had come down to a landing, where Prim paused and looked at her again, trail gathered in one hand. The blazing heat returned. She was smiling eye to eye, the genuine article.

“I am coming to believe that you may be more yourself than when I knew you. Come on.” She gathered the train and took Stella’s hand, leading her down the last of the stairs. Her palm was clammy and rough fingernails were scraping against Stella’s hand where they touched.

The flight emptied them out onto uneven ground. It felt like outside air, moving idly and even colder than the stairs. The space around them was massive and covered in a light mist; barely visible above them was a kind of metal framework, like a spider’s web. The floor was concrete, but loose carpet tiles had been piled all around in the millions. If Stella had squinted, the scene might have resembled a black desert, the tiles forming dunes around them. Prim walked out onto the mounds, still leading. Hills spread out into the fog farther than she could see.

After several minutes, they crested the largest dune yet, and looked over a massive crowd. Thousands of Sodomites stood shoulder to shoulder. White flakes of salt pooled around their ankles. Every eyeless head turned to look at the pair, and with a casual flick of her wrist, Prim parted the sea. The ground itself sent debris retreating from her. The masses were scrambling over each other to keep clear of her. Some twisted and shook with what looked like fear.

“Come quickly, before Pharaoh catches us,” Prim said quietly.

At the very center of the amassed crowd was another hill of carpet tiles, upon which stood a long white table. Two places had been set at the table, crystal glasses and fine porcelain dishware that Stella knew from Prim’s mother’s house. It had always sat behind glass when Stella was over. A quite large serving platter and silver lid had been placed in the very center.

Prim led her to a chair, where Stella sat. A candle near her place setting had melted nearly all the way down. Wax had pooled under her forks.

“I lit those candles months ago, in anticipation of you, but they had never burned lower until this evening.” She walked to her setting and retrieved a knife. It was long and slender with a forked end. A carving knife. “I am still in love with you,” she said, hand on the cloche.

Slowly, with a gravity all its own, she revealed their course. It was Stella. Naked, foggy eyed, and younger, her hands and feet were bound with red ribbon. Stella barely saw her for how she had been locked into Prim’s eyes. The blue heart of flame that was burning at her edges. Prim took the girl’s head by the hair and dragged her limply across the table and right to Stella’s plate. The girl moaned at the rough contact.

“I love you. I love you and I missed you. I love you, I love you and I know— I know that you are so right for me.” Prim shifted her grip on the knife. The girl met Stella’s eyes. They were foggy with cataracts, like she had spent a decade staring at the sun. Under the fog, Stella saw her own horror looking back at her. Both of them were stuck, their bodies kept limp.

Prim tucked the knife under the tied girl’s chin and turned her face to the rapt crowd around them.

"For myself," she cut the neck in a fluid motion, watching the blood spill onto Stella’s plate and into her cup. She lowered the knife across the body, "and for you," she sliced open the skin low on the stomach and dropped the knife, reaching her hand into the new folds in the skin. Prim pulled tenderly on the flailing girl's organs, revealing the long red mass within. Straining against her ribbon ties, the girl let out a whinging breath. Intestine connected Prim's hand to her, a red string between them, as several feet emerged from the wound. Blood ran off the table. It was steaming in the cold air. Prim took the organ in both hands and released it like a dove into the air. The intestine flew only a few feet. It landed heavy in Stella’s lap.

Primrose slumped her back, the ceremony draining out of her, and she licked her fingers clean of the blood. It lingered on her lips. Mirroring the motion Stella touched her own lips, the last of her lipstick from the wedding coming off red and wet on her fingers. The organ's pulse was loud against her thighs. The poor girl looked vaguely at the mess on Stella’s thighs, but stayed still. Neither of them could move, or take any unpermitted action.

Opposite her, Prim stood up, whispering softly, "alright," which was what signaled the ocean of sodomites below the table to swarm. They came for the body, piling on top of it, piling over Stella. A thousand hands pulled at her, reaching for the meat in her lap. This was how the girl really died, being pulled apart. The long cut to her neck had quickened things, maybe it had made her fade faster, feel fewer of the hands that broke her down. Stella saw her face once more before it was taken, and thought that the girl might have been the right age to be Lue’s sister.

“I hope you see. That you understand.” Prim was barely audible over the noise.

The salt covered men chunked the girl, secreting away the remains and restoring the cleanliness of the church. A finger to one, a foot to another, pieces of skull and sodden innards were all separated and carried away by the indistinct figures. That they also tore at Stella, trampled her in their blind flailing for an ounce of flesh, was just as indigestion. It did not take long, under this crush of flesh and spreading gore, for her to be gracelessly overtaken.

#writing #the whole thing is a mess rn but this is cohesive enough imo

0 notes

h-dream-journal · 1 year ago

Text

Aunt and Uncle's home is now a rustic wooden cabin in rural property, not far from major roads, but far enough to be safe in the beginning. There is a red beater car in front of the house next to a gnarled looking tree. It is never day time inside of this house

There appears to be a known and ongoing zombie problem but it's only relevant in one conversation. "Don't you think we should prioritize defending against the zombies more than the angels for now?" "The zombies only have the capability to destroy all life on earth. The angels can do so much more"

This is not about winning and defeating the angels. This is about survival

Uncle's desk is a large Victorian looking dark wooden and crooked beast of furniture. Papers are scattered and every surface appears to be a little off. Whatever he's saying is important, but I don't remember a word, regardless he knows about this. He pushes a button disguised in the ornate carving of the desk and a wooden board slides away to reveal 3 books, leather bound, green, blue and ???. The cover looks like the back of a Hearthstone card, but I only realized that once awake. These books contain strategy and knowledge, the most important being the signs that its started.

There's a mushy part I've lost now that I'm awake about a room in this rustic cabin, empty except for a pedestal and a chair in the middle of the room, I think there were 3 artifacts hidden in that desk that had something to do with the artifacts, but I can't remember now.

It starts like this

Skyscrapers, business men walking along the sidewalks that surround these buildings. Relaxed hustle and bustle that comes with a highly populated metro area. Thousands of people within the span of city blocks.

A black cube drops to the ground

There is a red perimeter that circles the cube, a simple red line with a diameter of about 20 feet. The cube is no bigger than a roll of toilet paper.

The cube is blinking. I am behind a building only a hundred feet away watching it unfold

Literally

The cube grows upward to be as tall as a man, the blinking light at the top of it. Everyone starts to back away, but it's too late.

Everyone within that red line is crushed instantly. The angel materializes out of the cube faster than eyes can comprehend. Without a second of orienting itself, it begins to crush and destroy every living being it can reach.

It is fast

I know it's chasing me, but I also know how to tuck in and hide in just about any building. I duck and weave and test different walls, trusting them to cover me.

The angel is smart. Efficient.

I fall down a story into an office building full of workers, they don't seem aware of what's going on. I find a spot in the corner of someone's office. This building has more windows than solid walls, but it'll do.

I think the office worker is mad at me, I don't care

The angel crushes whatever is above us and peers directly into the office. It scans the room quickly, and when it doesn't find me, it quickly readjusts and sprints off to kill as many others as possible within its current time period.

I don't think it maimed a single person in the office

I make it home and watch the carnage on the news, after some amount of time the angel is nowhere to be found, but the black obelisk is unmoved and it's red perimeter has grown to cover a large part of the city. We are out of city limits

The first of the books I was given chronicled the patterns I would need to expect, the red line will stretch to encompass more, the angel will come out and wreak carnage for some time, then return to the obelisk. 1 is horrific, but most can outrun it with preparation

Then 2 will appear at a time. The second angel is taller, and more methodical. I think it will pick off the ones the first angel passes over. 2 angels will be devastating

When 3 come out it will be unthinkable. I don't know where the red line will be but by that time we will have moved to a different part of the country. It won't protect us for long

4 will be the end

There was supposedly a 4th book and artifact to collect, things I somehow was supposed to have earned by having the first 3. I have no recollection of what happened to them

Above the cabin in an impossible way is a house. A very different house to the rustic cabin beneath us. The angels are gone, they are never there to begin with. We are moving into this place, it's layout is like a beach house. Its impossibly cozy. There is one strange tall side of a cupboard that is blank, and extends from the top of the ceiling down to eye height. I am already thinking of making a tapestry to put here. Perhaps one of my cats.

It's not long here before I must return and face the apocalypse

People start showing up to the house. I do not remember faces or names, but they have distinct personalities. They are meant to fill the rolls of "classic end of the world survivor gang". Our number grows to 11 at some point in time, but there was too much internal drama to keep us together all at once.

I missed out on most of this, I was the leader, the one who knew what would happen next and when. While the first angel followed its comparatively slow pattern, I planned a farm

I told the group to bring me any seed they could find. Most were salty snacks but we managed a few packs from somewhere in the liminal store.

The grueling work and time spent waiting for everything to grow I have completely blanked out on, before I know it the garden has spread haphazardly around the side of the cabin. I have just enough time to harvest

Then I leave.

There's another large blanked out part, but at this point in time we are driving along a street in some us state on the eastern side of the country, in a suburban area to a mini mansion that I intend to buy.

The part I blanked on must've been bigger than I thought, instead of us taking in the new house for the first time, we all have the same thought

We've done this before, we've driven down this same road to the same house before. Somehow we were given a slight rewind of time.

We're shocked that we managed to pick the exact same house twice, despite not remembering most of the first time we did this

The forgotten rewind will not help our odds

3 angels are out now

The house is built like a stereotypical Victorian maze. Halls and stairs no nowhere, room layouts with 0 logic.

The only place I remember is a stairway that starts in the front of the house where we park, goes up a story into an open archway that is surrounded on all sides by walls and a ceiling, then a stairway that drops straight back down and spits you outside on the other side of the house.

There is a miniscule triangle of grass here that I will do my gardening.

This is the part where the largest amount of our 11 people group are together, I do not remember any interactions past the car ride here, but the house is busy.

Time passes

I am in a cave in the tundra. A blizzard shreds the world outside of the cave, I am far from the world I once knew.

4 angels are out

It won't be long until they find me

I wake up.

#writing #writeblr #one time i dreamt #actual real unembelleshed dream #apocalypse #angels #does this count as biblically apocalyptic #i spent a lot of time gardening in the apocalypse #psychoanalyse me #weird shit #unreality

0 notes

thakeham · 5 years ago

Link

- Fine quality Georgian mahogany partners desk. Inset gilt tooled leather top, over two pedestals each with drawers to the front and cupboards to the rear. Fitted with turned knobs. The whole piece raised on a plinth base. circa. 1820

#Georgian partners desk #antique desk #leather top desk #victorian pedestal desk

0 notes

yolandagrayantiques · 6 years ago

Photo

Antique Victorian Mahogany & Leather 4ft 6” Breakfront Pedestal Office Desk (Circa 1870) - Yola Gray Antiques

This is a fine quality antique English Victorian mahogany & green leather 4ft 6” inverted breakfront office pedestal desk, circa 1870, in excellent original condition.

#antique #furniture #breakfront #desk #english #green #hole #knee #kneehole #leather #library #mahogany #office #pedestal #study #table #victorian #writing

6 notes · View notes

simsphonysims · 3 years ago

Photo

Hi, my fellow simmers! ♡

Today I’m sharing with you a Vlad's manor in the Forgotten Hallow (The Sims 4 Vampires game pack). It was about time for Vlad to get the new house worthy of the main master vampire.

♡ Check it out here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kD4sARDBOyc

Hope you like it!

♡ CC needed:

Simsphony’s CC LIST - complete! (Here is the whole list of packs with their links that I’m using in my game)

Felixandre (Colonial, Berlin, Paris, Versailles, Louis XV, Gothic, Schwerin, Victorian, Rococo, Florence, Georgian, French rugs, Piranese planter, Tudor, Ludwigslust paintings, Venus, Gatsby, Pedestal regency, Egypt, Petit trianon, Candelabra leto, London) - Basically everything

House of Harlix (The kichen, Orjanic, Livin'rum)

Hey Harrie (Bougainvillea, Country collection, Brutalist, Brownstone, Candle set, Heritage, Stockholm, Porto)

MadameRia (Old-Timey Fireplace, Typewriter)

Awingedllama (Apartment therapy)

Sixam (Kessler, Lux bath)

Pierisim (Coldbrew, Oak house, Maison Meuliere, Caldreone)

Brazen lotus (Foundation, Vampire objects, Incantation & Apothecary, Jaipur rugs, Knick knack, Archaeology Table Clutter, Spellbound Clutter, Functional Wall Epitaphs, Separated beds)

Mlys (Pufferhead, Laundry storage)

Linzlu (Travel trunks, Vintage gas cooker, 1920 bedroom, Princess Secratary desk, Cousin Jeb's Rocking Chair)

Plumbob tea society (Cottage garden, SimLaughLove's B-day 2017, Mags Birthday 2017, Rustic romance, happy birthday Magnolian Farewell)

Magnolian farewell (Antique stack, The modern witches guide to practical magic, Simblreen,Buncha books)

Strange storyteller (sectional library, Baroque art)

Simsational designs (Lofte living, Kitayama living, Hamptons hideaway, Cozy knits, Vintage glamour)

The clutter cat (Spring spirits, Winterfest wonders, Mermaid mansion 1)

King Falcon (Fuvwara, Stone railing)

Myshunosun (Luna, Nora)

Max20 (Classic kitchen, Cozy bathroom)

The Jim (Recumbent lion, The Nile, Caryatid)

Zx-Ta (birds, you've got mail, odds and ends, music box, the wizard's lair, arcane tome, forest hat - items, tailor set, tactical map, jacoban, advent calendar 24, liberated sinks, prism art studio, pleasing art paintings) - my recomendation is to download everything medieval and sinks

Kiwisim4 (Immortal lights)

Litttle cakes (vintage clutter)

Ravasheen (Uplifting Elevators,Straight Outta Compost)

Teknikah

Lilis-palace

Little Dica

♡ Tray file: Vlad’s manor

Happy simming! ♡

#sims 4 build #sims 4 vlad #sims 4 manor #sims 4 custom content #sims 4 fantasy #sims 4 vampires #sims 4 historical #simsphony

228 notes · View notes

simbury · 3 years ago

Photo

DH recolours!

Part 2 of my download bonanza that I have been working on.

All come in pirate woods, and yeti fabrics, with details in old brass where applicable.

First Pic: Victorian chair, loveseat, side table, and round table.

Second Pic: Rosewood armchair and dining char.

Third Pic: Neoclassic loveseat and “berger”.

Fourth Pic: Chinese armchair and pedestal.

Fifth Pic: Moroccan armchair and Romantic desk.

Download Here ~

#the sims 2 #ts2 #simbury #s2cc #sims 2 cc #sims 2 download #simbury: download #regency #simbury: gameplay

78 notes · View notes

officemaster-ae · 4 years ago

Text

Names of the Typical Desks You Can Find in an Office

There are different types of desks you can find in the furniture market. In the office furniture category, however, we can trim down the list into several types. Here are the names of the standard desks you can find in a workplace.

Pedestal Desk

Pedestal desks are usually a combination of storage cabinets and a top resting rectangular plane. They are typically styled and shaped to fit various offices' interior design and arrangement demands. Sometimes the storage cabinet comes to the right or left of the desk, and in most cases, the large size of this kind (more recognized as Double Pedestal desk) comes with storage cabinets on both sides, while leaving the center empty for the user's position. There are many different variants of pedestal desks available in the furniture market, including the ones featuring Metal, Victorian oak and Antique oak.

L-Shape Desk

If you see a desk that has a surface like a letter L, it's basically the L-shape desk. However, it can sometimes be a combination of two pedestal desks configured to form an L-shape desk to satisfy a certain office arrangement. This type of desk is usually best for an open concept working area and is a perfect fit for active office workers. The main portion of the desk is called the shell while the extended portion is called the return or bridge. With an additional desktop surface, it allows broad work area and at the same time extra storage cabinets available in the bridge, though some bridges don't have them. There are L-shape desks as well that don't have any storage cabinets at all, but only the desktop surface. There are also those where the shell extends upward like divider furniture.

U-Shape Desk

U-shape desks are comprised of a central desk and two side returns that are assembled in a U form. Think of an L-shaped desk with an extra wing. It is best for those looking for even broader desk space. It is ideal in home offices or offices with lots of floor space, though it can also turn a limited space into a operational work area. It is like a pedestal desk enhanced to include maximum storage system, functional partitions, and to hold computing devices altogether.

Computer Desk

Computer desks are used to hold, as its name suggests, computing devices in homes and offices. They come with functional features, including a keyboard tray, partitions for the system tower, other peripheral devices and documents, and a plane that is wide enough to hold the monitor and allow handwriting space. The simplest form of this kind only comes with a tray to hold the keyboard and mouse, while the most elaborated form can have drawers and extensions. Computer desks also come made in different materials, including those that are made of wood, metal, a combination of both, and more elegantly, the ones with the top resting durable glass.

Reception Desk

While reception desks are typically designed to fit all spaces and requirements, their construction is for the purpose of allowing the receptionists a work area and at the same time giving the kind of lasting impression to customers with its elaborated shapes and styles. The most notable feature of a reception desk is its transaction counter, which is usually positioned above the desk. And like the pedestal and computer desks, reception desks, depending on their construction, can also come featuring storage cabinets and functional partitions, and can hold a monitor while allowing enough space for paper works. A typical reception desk comes in an L shape while the circular types also capture the imaginations of many office space planners. Office furniture shoppers can choose between contemporary, traditional, and transitional styles.

Looking for Modern Office Furniture in Dubai? OfficeMaster – Office Furniture Dubai the leading provider of new office desks and chairs in Dubai. For inquiry, please contact below.

OfficeMaster Al Quoz Branch

No. 3, 34, 6 St. , Dubai - UAE

+971 (0)50 651 9769

+971 (0)4 33 66 360

#office furniture #Pedestal Desk #L-Shape Desk #U-Shape Desk #Computer Desk #Reception Desk #Modern Office Furniture in Dubai #Office Furniture Dubai #officemaster

1 note · View note

wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years ago

Text

Witches, Chapter 22: catching up with some old friends

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

At the end of August, a hand-drawn - some of the graphite or charcoal or whatever it is that smears off onto Apollo’s hands when he opens the envelope - invitation arrives at the Wright Anything Agency. Addressed to Mr Justice, Ms Trucy, and Mr Wright, it cordially welcomes them over to Deauxnim Studios on Saturday. “Guess Larry finally found a place he wanted to get settled,” Phoenix says, picking up the envelope and turning it over. “He’s been bouncing around for a while.”

He passes the envelope back to Apollo, and on the back side of it, a scribble on the flap in a childish, spiky scrawl, very different than Vera’s writing, reads, V. says your new lawyer can come too, forgot about her.

“Better not let Athena see that.” Phoenix chuckles. “She’d hate to think she’s forgettable, even to a girl she’s never met.”

Apollo and Trucy arrive first on Saturday, after grabbing ramen for lunch somewhere that isn’t Eldoon’s, leaving Apollo with a strange guilty feeling that he isn’t patronizing Salt Hell. It’s a weird thing to think. Like he’s grown attached to that place, whether he wanted to or not.

He spent the morning, before he left his apartment, arguing with himself about whether or not he needed to bring iron with him. He doesn’t want to hurt Vera by accident, but he’s wandering into an unknown household of Mr Wright’s acquaintance, and that gives him a real sense of fear. Like sure, he’s met Larry before, but the guy accidentally became a witch. Doesn’t really inspire much confidence. And Apollo can’t even ask Clay’s opinion, because he never told Clay that Vera is a changeling, and he doesn’t want to get into that. In the end, he decides that he’ll be careful, but it’s better to take precautions, and slipped the iron ring onto his finger.

No one answers the door but Trucy tests the handle, finds it unlocked, and bounds right in. Apollo decides that he can’t really be faulted if he’s following her to keep her out of trouble, and heads in after. “Helloooo!” she calls, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Vera! Uncle Larry! We’re here for the artists’ loft grand tour!”

Apollo wouldn’t call it a loft, but the fact that it’s an artist den is obvious. On the wall right in front of them there’s a half-finished mural of a snowy landscape. To the left, canvases and poster boards spill out through a doorway, resting on the floor and propped up against the walls, depicting landscapes and fruit bowls, the Steel Samurai, a portrait of Vera with her face divided down the center as human and fae both, and one that is just splotches of blue like someone dipped a sponge and threw it. They pick their way carefully between the canvasses and enter the room, brimming with more paintings and charcoal sketches. There’s one of an orca leaping out of the water; another depicts a demon that, all considered, appears a bit like Tenma Taro would it drawn by someone who got a third-hand description. It doesn’t have arms, simply wings where its arms would be that have talons at the joint, and the drawn tongue reaches halfway down its chest, while its head lacks its weird batlike ears. But it’s definitely Tenma Taro, enough to send a shudder through him.

A year ago, examining the paintings to find that someone he never met had been following along to every case Apollo defended, and an accompanying feeling nothing short of horror in discovering it. This time, this is - she is - a friend keeping up with what’s going on even when they haven’t spoken in months. It’s nice to know.

Footsteps hurry down the hall. “Hey, Vera!” Trucy says, and did she say it before or after Vera actually appears in the doorway to let them know that it’s her and not Larry? “We arrive! Good to see you!”

Vera looks better than Apollo remembers last, bright-eyed and not as pale as she used to be. Written in her face, the color in her cheeks and the curve of a smile, is that she is not a scared shut-in anymore. She explains that she lives here now, got her father’s house sold to escape the trauma associated with it - well, she doesn’t say the latter clause of that statement but they all know it well enough - and Larry bought this place and she’s subletting a room from him. “Though I asked him a month ago how much it would be and how to pay him and he said he’d get back to me and hasn’t.” Vera frowns at the wall. There’s a framed photo of her and her father hanging there. “I should probably remind him.”

“God, I wish my landlord would forget to collect,” Apollo mutters.

Trucy laughs. “I think that’s Polly telling you not to remind him,” she says.

“I’m a lawyer,” Apollo says. “I would never say that.”

The three of them stop in front of a painting of a weird-looking but familiar dog and in silence, stare at it. Loud, exuberant knocking on the door heralds Athena’s arrival. “I’m not late, am I?” she asks. “I know the rule is that you’re not late unless you get here after Mr Wright, but that’s for work and not social events, right?” Apollo shrugs. Athena thrusts her hand out toward Vera. “Hi! I’m Athena Cykes, the new lawyer at the Wright Anything Agency! Nice to meet you!”

“Uh - h-hi.” Vera hesitates a moment and then shakes her hand. “I’m Vera Misham. Nice to meet you.”

“Trucy and Apollo said you were a client of theirs - oh! Did you paint all these?”

The panic in Vera’s eyes subsides. Wondering what all they’ve told Athena about her, why she was their client or whatever else. But Athena’s asking about her artwork now, and Vera is good about talking about her art, so she waves Athena back into the room they were just in and shows her the sketch of the orca. Trucy circles around the desk at the wall, and after a minute calls over, “Hey, Vera, who’s this?” She waves a large photograph of a woman, standing in the snow, her black hair tightly twisted on top of her head, her tired lined face wearing a knowing smile. Apollo would swear she’s familiar. When Apollo goes over to the desk, he sees a few pieces of scrap paper with hasty sketches trying to copy the woman’s face, pushed to the edge and onto the floor.

“That’s Mr Larry’s mentor,” Vera says. “Ms Elise. She’s the one who began the Deauxnim name. I wanted to paint a portrait of her, as a gift for him, but I haven’t figured her face out yet. I—”

“Is that guests I hear?”

Vera snatches the photo from Trucy and shoves it and the loose papers in between the pages of a sketchbook. Larry leans up against the doorway. “Long time no see, Trucy!”

“Uncle Larry!” She charges him and nearly knocks him over. “Yeah, it’s been practically forever! Since like, since we saw Gourdy!”

“Who’s Gourdy?” Athena asks.

“You’ll see,” Trucy says with a grin. Apollo sighs and resolves to find some sort of excuse to miss this event this upcoming December. Clay will be in space then, and Apollo is going to use that time to sleep in and not be heckled for it.

“Apollo, hi,” Larry says, now that he’s gotten his wind back from taking a magician to the stomach. “And Athena, hey, nice to meet you, I’ve heard all about you.” He extends a hand for her to shake by resting his elbow on Trucy’s head. “That you’re the crazy kid who helped Nick out with his first case back.”

“Did you get to meet the orca?” Vera asks. “How do you defend an orca? I followed in the news as best I could, but I still don’t really understand.”

“Well! Let me tell you.” Athena, thrilled to have someone new to regale with her tales of penguins and orcas from the aquarium, immediately launches into it. Apollo still doesn’t know how much of her telling is exaggeration. When he and Trucy had questions about the investigations, Athena was always quick to be the one to answer, and Phoenix and Pearl left her to it. Was the penguin as finicky as she said, and so freely allowed to roam the aquarium when it would be very easy to consequently steal the penguin - probably. Apollo will believe anything, when it comes to their cases and clients.

“I’m never gonna live this one down, am I?” Phoenix appears behind them, from the entryway, and Athena and Vera both jump.

“What, you just barge in and don’t even knock?” Larry asks. “Rude! What kind of guest are you, Nick?” Phoenix grins, and that’s the weird thing that has struck Apollo the few other times he’s seen Phoenix and Larry together. That Phoenix almost reminds him of Clay, then, now, whenever it isn’t Larry reminding him of Clay. The way they gleefully give each other shit. The strength of that many years between them.

“You defended an orca in court, Boss,” Athena says. “You are not going to live it down.”

“You co-counseled the defense of an orca!”

Larry takes them back to the sitting room - he and Phoenix bickering about whether or not his decor and entire vibe is pretentious - and pretentious is not the word coming to mind for Apollo. Now he feels the artist loft thing, mismatched furniture and clashing decor. A polished wooden table has a lace tablecloth and six all-slightly-different wicker chairs, while the couch makes him think of the Victorian era. A candelabra with lightbulbs sits on the end table. Landscapes and watercolor illustrations hang on the walls, and in between two of them hang a deformed analogue clock that looks like that famous melty-clocks painting. There are three pedestals around the room, like what a museum would keep vases on. Two of them do have vases, one empty and one filled with some wilted flowers, and the third has a small statue, about a foot tall, that again looks like another famous painting, the distorted face of the screaming man on the bridge.

“When’d you get back into metalworking?” Phoenix asks, eyeing the statue and then the clock.

“Oh, nah, that’s just way old stuff I had boxed up and finally had some space for,” Larry says. “Clock’s ancient, you’d been talking to me about some course you were taking where Dalí kept coming up. Other one’s a vent piece - last metalwork I did after the Thinkers.”

“Don’t tell me it’s a clock too,” Phoenix says.

Larry, halfway into the next room - from what Apollo can see, it might be a kitchen - leans back out. “Dunno, why don’t you try it and find out?”

Phoenix watches him leave and then turns back to the statue. He casually hefts it in one hand, bouncing it a little to test the weight, and then he grabs the head and twists it to the side. A scream emerges from it. Not a very convincing one, with the canned sound of being recorded on a device with not great quality, and made by someone who is trying not to disturb the neighboring apartments - but the suddenness of the sound still makes Apollo jump, and Athena and Trucy both scream in tandem with it.

With a heavy clonk, Phoenix sets it back in its place. He sighs, but with a smile visibly threatening to break through. “Real cute,” he says to Larry, who returns with a shiny, fancy metal tray of plastic containers of store-bought cookies. Why did Apollo think that the aesthetic clash would subside. “The Scream. Absolutely hilarious.”

“Hey man, it’s an accurate representation of my mental state at the time.” Larry sets the tray down on the table and gestures to them all to sit down. “I thought about giving it to you as a representation of how you probably felt too, and then I thought that might be—”

“Poor taste, yeah,” Phoenix interrupts.

“Yeah, so I had that in a box for a decade, and honestly probably gonna put it back because imagine like, an earthquake hits in the middle of the night and it falls over and just screams.”

“You could probably have it put in a gallery as a piece of performance art, or something,” Phoenix says. “Have it set just precariously enough, and cue screaming.”

“I don’t think I understand art,” Athena says, grabbing two cookies. “I mean, I get it, but also don’t at all.”

“That’s not about the art,” Phoenix says. “That’s just Larry.”

Larry slaps Phoenix’s hand as he reaches for a cookie. “You can’t be rude to me in my own house! My own house in which I have so graciously invited you!”

“I think Vera invited us, actually,” Trucy says. Larry rolls his eyes.

“Yes, I wanted to tell you all,” Vera says, and the silent scuffle between Phoenix and Larry ceases immediately. Trucy sets the screaming statue back in its place with a guilty look, having been about to unleash it on the unexpected audience of everyone but Apollo who wasn’t looking in her direction. “I’m going to be published!”

“Woohoo!” Trucy throws her arms around Vera’s shoulders and hugs her from behind. “Look at you go!”

Vera’s cheeks start to turn pink, and then in the center there’s a growing bluish tint. “Nice work, kiddo,” Phoenix says. “When’s the book come out?” His eyes flicker toward Larry. Had they talked about this before, that Phoenix, specifically, knew there was a book? - Or maybe he just knows Larry’s career enough to expect, of course it’s a book.

“Um.” Vera thinks for a moment. Trucy flings herself into the chair next to Vera that she had previously abandoned. “The beginning of November. Advance copies were just sent out and we got ours last week.”

“Can we see?” Apollo asks. “Or is that trade secrets?”

Vera drums her fingers on her cheek. “I suppose we could show you. If I know where we put it?”

“Somewhere beneath five sketchbooks, probably,” Larry says. “I’ll go take a look in a bit.”

“So you write children’s books, right?” Athena asks. “That’s what Mr Wright said. Write or illustrate? And-or?”

“Vera came up with this idea, I wrote it, and she did all the illustrations,” Larry explains.

“I kept thinking about everything you said about names, that one time, Trucy,” Vera says quietly, and though all of them can hear her, and Athena especially looks interested as the only one of them who wasn’t here before, who is shut out of this particular shared history, but even she doesn’t say anything. “So,” Vera continues, a bit louder, “I’ll be a published illustrator under the name ‘Verity Deauxnim’.”

“That’s a good name!” Trucy says brightly. “Verity Deauxnim! A real solid sounding stage name! Or whatever it is for authors. Nom de plume? That always makes me picture just like, a really bushy mustache. Get mustache glasses for your author portraits!”

“You know—” Larry begins, and Phoenix groans and places his head on the table. “Hey! Nick! Why’s your daughter more supportive than you are? It’s not a bad idea!”

“It’s a silly idea,” Phoenix says. He lifts his head. “But I’m glad to hear you’ve got that figured out, Vera. It’s not gonna lead you wrong, picking up the Deauxnim name for yourself.”

“It’s already done so much work saving Uncle Larry from the worst surname known to the world,” Trucy says.

“Yeah, was a whole real tragedy that I wouldn’t be known as ‘Larry Butz, the guy who was on trial one time for murder and did nothing else good ever’. Except like, that time I was the Steel Samurai on stage, that was pretty cool, even if I’d thought I was signing up for tech crew.”

This is the man who accidentally became a witch, isn’t it? That tracks. “What’s the book about?” Apollo asks.

Larry ends up answering first, Vera wide-eyed startled at being asked a question while she was trying to eat. “It’s an Ugly Duckling-type story, with the vaguest amount of actual animal research.”

“How vague is vague?” Phoenix asks.

“I’m a storyteller, Nick! I can’t be getting, like, neurotic about having all real true facts in there if it’s gonna get in the way of telling a good story, you know?”

“I feel like that’s how all of our witnesses treat their testimonies,” Apollo says. Athena shrieks with laughter and drops her cookie onto the table. Phoenix is silently and pointedly conveying something to Larry with just eyebrow movements and grimaces. Larry is pointedly ignoring it.

“Fortunately,” he says, pointedly, so that his ignoring Phoenix has looped all the way back around to Phoenix obviously having his attention, “Deauxnim picture books are not witness testimonies! And if we want to fudge it when we’re talking about ducks, that is our right!”

“Then don’t leave us hanging,” Phoenix drawls. “I’ve learned more about orcas than I ever wanted to, so what’s this about ducks, besides the ugly one?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t want to know about orcas,” Athena says. “What’s not to love about orcas?”

“There’s a kind of duck that lays its eggs in the nests of other birds, like the cuckoo bird,” Vera says. “But the baby duck is nicer than the cuckoo babies because it doesn’t, um… throw the other eggs out of the nest once it hatches.”

“Ah,” Trucy says faintly.

“That would not make a great children’s story, I don’t think,” Apollo says. The secret extra-dark Ugly Duckling tale. Maybe even, if Apollo really thinks about it, that’d be the kind of shitty story that Datz would tell them. The interloper successfully makes it in to toss aside the ones who are supposed to be there; the usurper wins. That’s the kind of shitty story they lived.

“That’s why we didn’t do cuckoos,” Vera says. “That’s why it’s the duck that - that ends up put into a family where it wouldn’t naturally belong. The actual ducks in real life realize, because that’s part of, um, how they are, and they leave right away. But that’s not exactly what the story is. We stretch it a little. Like Mr Larry said.”

It should have hit him sooner, the reason that Vera had the idea for an Ugly Duckling story - the child of a different species dropped in a nest and left there to figure it all out for herself. It makes so much sense from that perspective. The swan that doesn’t know it’s a swan and thinks itself an odd duck is a just changeling.

“So then you got to draw a lot of fluffy cute ducks?” Athena asks. “I’d have gone with penguins, myself, but I see the appeal.”

“You said you got to meet a penguin at the aquarium, right?”

“Yes, but she hated me.” Athena still sounds like she’s about to start wailing when she talks about it.

When the familiar tune of a cartoon theme song starts up, Apollo figures it’s Trucy fiddling with something else. “Is that the Steel Samurai?” Vera asks.

“Yeah.” Phoenix pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Ringtone. Friend of mine won’t let me change it. Ah, hello, what’s up?” He doesn’t look concerned when he answers, but he starts to frown, slowly, his eyebrows creasing together, and everyone else at the table glances at each other. Phoenix turns around in his chair so that his elbows rest on the back of it, a finger pressed against his free ear to shut them out even though no one is talking. “You don’t remember? That - no, yeah, I can - yeah. I can just meet you there.” His chair scrapes on the floor when he pushes himself out from the table. Athena winces. Phoenix doesn’t move for another moment after he pulls the phone away from his ear, a blank stare fixed on it. “Sorry,” he says, finally standing and pushing the chair back in to the table. “I’ve got to go. Friend’s having an - issue.”

“What’ve They done now?” Larry asks, with such particular emphasis that even though he doesn’t name them Fair Folk or fae, they all know.

“Oh, for once it isn’t them,” Phoenix says, much lighter than Larry did, like they could be just any group of human friends.

“Then tell Edgey I say hi.”

“I have human friends other than Edgeworth, you dick.”

“Name three.” Larry looks very smug.

“Gumshoe, Franziska, and - Ema. Notice I’m not including you.”

“Is this what people mean when they say ‘male bonding’?” Athena asks. “Is that what this is?”

“Something like that,” Apollo says. He thinks of Clay, again, Clay needling him this morning that almost all of Apollo’s social life is now based around his job. (Apollo can’t leave the Agency. Apollo would have one friend left.)

“Yeah, I noticed when I had to find out from Edgey that you got your badge back and were off to court for an orca! You couldn’t even give me a call for that, huh?”

“I was busy with, you know, defending and being in court.” Phoenix claps a hand down on Vera’s shoulder. “Sorry I’ve gotta run out on you like this. But it’s good to see you again, glad you’re doing well. And I can’t wait for the book, too.”

“O-oh.” The poor girl sometimes looks so shocked whenever Phoenix talks to her so casually, so supportively. Like after she ruined his career she doesn’t understand how he can be so happy about hers. Even if he did set her up with it. “Thank you.”

“I guess I’ll go look around for our advance copy,” Larry says, watching Phoenix leave. “A sneak peak for everyone who’s staying here.” Phoenix flips him off over his shoulder, without turning around. “Not in front of the children!” Larry yells, standing himself. “And Nick, yo, next time I wanna hear about your stupid court stunts from you and not Edgey.” Larry turns, disappearing from the room the other way. “You kids hang out and talk about memes or whatever kids talk about.”

“Did you hear who Daddy was talking to?” Trucy asks Athena.

“I don’t listen in on phone calls unless it’s like, a case, usually,” Athena says, which is a statement with a lot of qualifiers there. Leaving her bases open while not technically lying, so no tells for Apollo or Trucy to call her on.

“Ugh.” Trucy slumps and her head falls back against the chair. “What good are cool powers if you can’t help me pry into my dad’s private life with them?”

Vera coughs softly, a gentle nudge to the nosy gang to, ideally, stop being so damn nosy. Trucy stands up and goes to sound the screaming statue again, startling no one because she’s snickering the whole time too. “If this weren’t so heavy I’d use it in a magic show,” she says. “Watch as the beautiful, talented magician pulls the mysterious screaming statue out of her Magic Panties!”

“Really would prefer not to,” Apollo says.

“Coward,” Trucy says.

“How is the magic show going, Trucy?” Vera asks. “Have you made any progress on finding a venue to perform in?”

Trucy catches them all up on her latest exploits in her attempts to become a professional stage magician. She’s convinced, utterly, that while the era of magicians on tv saw its heyday decades ago, she’s going to be the one to bring it back, and without “cheating” by using her real magic. “Like if I wanted to use real magic, I’d set up a shop on the streetcorner peddling suspicious plants as having come straight from the realm of the Fair Folk themselves, and then when angry repeat customers come back, I use Mr Hat to distract them and make off with their wallets!”

“Trucy, that’s how you get arrested on theft and drug dealing charges,” Apollo says. “I don’t want to have to deal with that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Trucy says. “I guess selling random plants would be suspicious. Someone at my school tried to sell kale pretending it was weed, once.”

“Sometimes I get sad that I missed out on all those stupid weird high school experiences that people get to have,” Athena says. “I mean, sure, I get weird court stories, and I don’t regret the path I’ve taken at all! But sometimes I just feel - I don’t know, something, about missing out on those regular growing-up experiences.”

Apollo opens his mouth to say that there’s really nothing Athena missed, because grade school and secondary school sucked, and everyone’s “funny high school stories” are just them repressing the rest of it that sucked, but Vera speaks first and says, “I do too, actually.”

“Oh?” Athena asks. She probably figured there was something more going on in Vera’s story when they mentioned that she’s a former client of Apollo’s, but being a nineteen-year-old professional is Athena’s normal. Though there’s higher odds of it in artistic fields than law, probably.

“I was homeschooled,” Vera says. “By my father. I… I didn’t really go out much.”

Athena nods sympathetically. She sits with her chin resting in her palm for a while, as Trucy spins a few more stories of what’s happened at school lately - repeatedly assuring Apollo that she and Jinxie stay far to the sidelines of it - looking at Vera. After a few minutes of this, Vera seems to notice, casting a quizzical glance at Athena. “Something about you reminds me of a friend I had when I was little, before I moved away,” Athena explains. “I can’t put my finger on it.”

“It wouldn’t have been me,” Vera says. “I didn’t have any friends when I was little.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant,” Athena says. “I had only the one friend back then - I was a real shut-in, actually, myself. Her name’s Juniper. She was a real quiet, sensitive type, didn’t have any other friends like me, didn’t go out much at all. Not really an artist, other than a couple years ago she said that she’d taken up knitting, but there’s just - a certain je ne sais quoi.”

“Oh,” Vera says. She starts picking at her nails, which now appear to be whiter and pointier than they were before. Another slip, from wondering, perhaps, if the similarity Athena sees is just in personality, or something she doesn’t realize she’s picked up on. Do the inner voices of human and fae sound different? Is that something Athena can notice - something she even knows she notices?

“Found it!” Larry reenters the room, waving the book around a little too much for Apollo to get a good look at the cover yet. “It was on the unused sketchbook shelf.”

Vera nods in understanding. Athena doesn’t follow so easily. “You have a shelf full of unused sketchbooks? How many do you need at one time?”

“Different kinds of paper work better with different materials,” Vera explains. “So when there’s a sale, we stock up.”

“Part of being a writer is having a lot of cool notebooks that you never actually plan on using,” Larry says, which is coming close to almost offering an explanation, but a much worse one than Vera’s. He sits back down at the table with them. “So doing traditional art is also a lot like that, except I do eventually use the sketchbooks. Mostly.”

“Oh, so it’s like how Mr Wright never uses all the law books we have in the office, right?” Athena asks.

Trucy takes the book from Larry and drags her chair around the table to squish herself in between Apollo and Athena, so they can all read from the same angle. Vera is chewing on her nails now, watching them with apprehension for any reaction, though they’ve barely even considered the cover yet. “That’s exactly what it’s like, I think,” Trucy says.

The lights in the office are off, though the door to the back room is open, and Phoenix always closes that one before he leaves. Though, he figures, if she’s gotten here before him, it’s not like she would actually have need to turn the lights on. That’s the thing about being blind - the dark isn’t any different than the way it usually is.

He finds Thalassa sitting next to his desk, leaning up against the side with her knees pulled up to her chest and her head rested against them. Phoenix scuffs his feet noisily across the carpet and her head turns, just slightly, while keeping her face buried. She knows he’s there and doesn’t want to acknowledge him. He lowers himself to the floor across from her and rests his back against Apollo’s desk, and he waits in the dim light that Mia has only partially switched on.

“I almost forgot.” Thalassa raises her head, and because Phoenix doesn’t have his magatama on his person - he left it in his desk, next to her soul - she looks perfect, statuesque and glamorous, not a wrinkle or hair out of place. Perfect enough that she’s wholly unnatural, armored as she is in glamour to become something cold and stony. “I almost forgot everything.” Her hands, clutched tightly in her lap, unfold from around her mitamah, deep blue like a twilight sky. “I left myself a memo that should I find myself slipping, I was to call you for help - but I thought it was just that, slipping somewhat, and the most I would forget was your office address or phone number, not why it even was that you were the one who could help me at all.”

“And it wasn’t,” Phoenix says.

She nods. “It was everything. About you, about my children, about everything from when I came to this office after the trial. And then everything before I was shot. I was left again with that darkness, and Borginia, and the two trials here.” The duration between losing her life, and finding her soul.

“Do you think, because of the length of time you’ve not been around it?” Phoenix asks. “Or perhaps distance - but you’ve stayed in LA this whole time, right?”

She regards him for several second; blind though he knows she is, her Sight remains, and with that she can pinpoint his own Sighted eyes. Just hovering ominously above a necklace-shaped noose. A bit weird, no doubt, and Phoenix doesn’t have to doubt because Godot told him it was weird in a stronger term than weird. (Speaking of weird, there’s something thematically to contemplate that magic gone wrong, the fae crossed, so often deprives humans of their eyes, even when they are left with Sight. Ema would tell him that two isn’t a large enough sample size to draw any actual conclusions, scientifically, but for his purposes, Phoenix is going to ahead anyway.)

“Not quite,” she admits. “I did return to Borginia for a short time. I wondered, as I did, if I could uncover some connection or reason as to why it was there I was sent following my death.” Her tone is so casual, so calm, that it’s uncomfortable. This huge blank in her past, why she was there at all, and she speaks of it like it’s no concern to her. “And more than that, there were some last affairs of Lamiroir’s to put in order - Lamiroir, the duo, Machi and I, I mean. He can never return to Borginia, and so there is nothing more there for me.”

“Shit, yeah, the smuggling charges, that’s…” Machi, fifteen years old, functionally exiled from his homeland, sitting in jail knowing he won’t even have a foundation to build off of when he gets out, because Borginia’s draconian cocoon-smuggling laws are a sword over his head for the rest of his days. “I hope they didn’t give you any trouble over it.”

“Thankfully, they seemed satisfied that I truly had no part in what Machi and Daryan did,” she answers. “Or - considering that the country has been in an uproar since last year, with a very long debate about what we owe the rest of the world when something so dangerous could also save lives - perhaps the customs officers were very tired of talking about cocoons.” She smiles faintly. “Perhaps Borginia will have its own legal reforms, as you are striving for here.”

Nothing like a high-profile celebrity case to catch the public’s eye, if the lawyer on defense doesn’t fuck it all up.

“So it could have been the distance that you traveled that caused this problem,” Phoenix says. “Or the combination of time and distance, or just time.” And with magic, nothing ever easy. “But either of those could be dealt with,” he adds. “You could drop by the office more to - to refresh your memory. Could say hi to the kids, too.”

He means - or, if she had asked, he would have said he meant - she could say hello as Lamiroir. The kids helped her out by defending Machi, and they still, quite regularly, listen to her music. (The only place where their musical tastes converge, really.) But she decides what he means without asking, and with a curl of her lip, hiking her shoulders up, she says, “I will not reenter my children’s lives while there is a chance that I will only cause them further grief.”

She reaches up and runs her hand up along the desk, finding its edge to hold on to and pull herself up to her feet. For a moment Phoenix fears that she will leave the conversation on that note and walk out, but she seats herself delicately on his desk, her hands primly folded in her lap and one leg crossed over the other at the knee. As classically poised as she ever is, and Phoenix is glad she’s decided to stick around. Maybe Mia would stop her, but Phoenix knows he wouldn’t have gotten on his feet in time. Why did his bones stop being able to take any kind of pressure as soon as he hit thirty? Why do humans live at all; merely to suffer back pain?

But he doesn’t really like carrying on this conversation with Thalassa looking down on him, either, and with a groan he drags himself upright and sinks into Athena’s chair. “Perhaps placing my soul back in the hollow it was carved out of will simply drop me down into the grave I so narrowly escaped all those years ago,” she continues bitterly. “Or perhaps one day my memory will have regressed to the point that I will only be Lamiroir the amnesiac even while I sit with my soul held in my hands.”

“But we don’t really even know that will happen,” Phoenix says. “I very much doubt that will happen.”

“Do you,” she says curtly. “Pray tell, how? Even I do not know - could there have been some other spell cast by Magnifi to keep me alive, or was my soul’s separation all that was necessary? Can you tell me that? Can your friends know unless they have bought the souls of some unlucky damned humans and then watched them die, as an experiment?”

Pearl is the one researching how to set this right. Neither she, Maya, nor Iris knew when he first asked, but Phoenix isn’t the type to give up on someone, and Pearl has a vested interest in becoming as powerful as she possibly can to support Maya, so she won’t be giving up, either. As far as Phoenix knows, anyway, there have been no souls experimentally bartered about. And Pearl had agreed that if anyone was likely to know the nuances of these particular magics and how to help her, it would be them, that faraway hidden place that the Winter fae branched from thousands of years ago. She and Maya just - couldn’t divine where in the world that is, that one final Court they know nothing about, know no one who has ever been.

No one besides Thalassa.

“Fine,” he says. “Yes, we’re still trying to figure it out - yes, we don’t know that it won’t, but we don’t know that it will, either. And say, for argument’s sake” - because that’s what lawyers do, argue, and a smile twitches onto her lips - “that you were actually to die or have your memory wither away. That you think that may happen. Shouldn’t you meet your children now, tell them the truth, while you can? They deserve to know, at the very least, that they’re siblings.”

Her smile vanishes; her brows furrow. “Then if I am dead or in essence lost, you of course may tell them.”

Of course, she says, after she has not made that obvious. It would not have truly shocked him if she’s instead said that she would bury her childrens’ relationship with her. “And when they ask how I found out and how long I’ve known? Why I hid it for that long? Do you think they won’t hate me if they know that I knew you, and kept the chance for them to ever meet their mother from them? It’s not like I can lie to them about anything!” There’s nothing satisfying about making a point that shuts her up. Both sides of this argument are the the losing ones. “Do you think that either of them would simply not care about what happens to their mother?”

Trucy is hurting, daily, ever since she learned the truth of her grandfather’s magic; she doesn’t hide it with a smile at home. She wants to be a stage magician because that’s the kind of magic that will only make people happy, will never hurt anyone. And Apollo’s never talked to Phoenix about it, but Trucy informs him that there were several foster homes in the picture, none ever stayed in the picture, and that Apollo always changes the subject (“Conspicuously,” she says, over dinner, no idea that she’s talking about her half-brother, “changes the subject. Polly’s really bad at lying.”) if she asks him about family.

“I do not know,” she says. “You are the one who knows them—”

“And I know they would care! That they’d want to know you!”

Thalassa goes quiet. She presses her fist against her mouth and closes her eyes, inhaling loudly and exhaling even louder. “This is precisely the trouble, that you are the one who knows them.” She lowers her hand, curls it tight around her other hand and her mitamah. “You, you reckless, stubborn, fool of a man! What may I expect from you next as you think you may - go about trying to set this right? To save me - do I wait for you to bargain away your own soul to your fae friends, so that they may better understand, because their help you ask of them has a price? Or do I let you search for the Summer Court and their reserves of knowledge - so that you may die there, as Jove did, seeking something from them that they will never offer you?”

“What was Jove looking for?” Phoenix asks. It’s a new piece of an older story, that at the end of last year (one of the few times they communicated between October and now) he’d asked for clarification on two points. First, if she knew where the Summer Court was, and when she shut him down she preempted his second and third questions, too: no, she would absolutely not tell him where the Summer Court is, and yes, Jove had died there. She hadn’t then said that he was looking for something.

A sharp, searing pain bursts through his chest, launching his heart up into his throat where it pounds with the staccato rap of anxiety. It echoes in his head the same way, thumping at the forefront of his skull, not quite painful but nonetheless a weight all the way down behind his eyes, settling in with conflicted feelings; exhaustion wants them to close and burning wants them to leak. He wants to run, he wants to hide, there’s no fight in his instincts, only flight and freeze, and a powerful cold seeps down his skin, from across his shoulders down his arms. Shuddering, he crosses his arms together tightly, as though the gesture will form a physical barrier that will spare him from the ice in Thalassa’s eyes.

It’s her, he realizes, belatedly. It’s just glamour, just manipulated perception. Just, hell of a word to use when she’s decided that rather than project her stony detachment, beauty that refuses to show an emotion behind it, she’ll put the fear of god in him instead. Fear of her. “You’d rather I not ask that question,” he says.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to be so emotional,” she says, and that would, genuinely, be comical. Her face had not changed at all, not a quiver at the corner of her mouth or between her brow. The only sign of her emotionality is what she made Phoenix feel. She squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her hands together in front of her mouth, taking a few silent seconds to recenter herself. The pressure in Phoenix’s chest loosens. She’d probably understand if he went to grab the magatama, stop her from doing this to him again. “But understand this, in everything of yourself that you risk for my sake, every time you dig for something new and dangerous - my children know you.” Implying that he’d have something else to want to research in the Summer Court, were she to say more. She’s not that good at deterring curiosity. “It would be much more painful to them if they were to lose you, than if I were to wither away.”

Implied: the cynical weighing of lives to determine which one of them it’s better to save. Implied: we can’t both come through this in one piece. It’s the calculations that Rimes and Prosecutor Blackquill made and tried to toss on Phoenix: Sasha or the orca, you can’t save them both.

And how, again, did that trial work out?

“Fortunately,” Phoenix says, “it’s far from guaranteed that those are our only two options. In fact, I’d say that it’s very unlikely.”

“You could have been a Gramarye,” Thalassa says. “Because there is one thing besides magic that the men of this name are skilled at, and that is pulling unearned confidence out of their asses.”

“Ah,” Phoenix says, with the vague sensation of being smacked in the face. “We could call it optimism. That might be nice.”

“Of course,” she says, not sarcastic but instead sounding pitying, and that might be worse. “I admire the faith that you hold, truly, I do.” Which is why she just called it overconfidence, no doubt. “But this way you stick your neck out for others means that it is your neck on the line.” She touches her fingertips to the base of her neck, her blue, blue eyes fixed on one of the few aspects of him that she can see. Funny, that; she doesn’t know what color his eyes are beneath the Sight or the way his hair refuses any and all attempts to flatten it or the shape of his face, but she knows the worst moments of his life, his greatest enemies, secrets that he never intends to share. On the other side, to balance their scales, he knew her before she remembered her.

“I fear where it ends,” she says finally. “Because you and I are not lucky people, darling.”

Both so unlucky that it almost doubles around - that it’s frankly a miracle they’re alive. “Yeah,” he says. “But you don’t know me at all if you think I’m just going to give up on someone.”

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles

13 notes · View notes

chapmanrestoration · 5 years ago

Text

Antique Victorian mahogany cylinder roll top desk

The desk come in for restoration and polishing, the peace of furniture had stood in a house for use for many years without being used . The desk had damage to the veneers around the pedestal plinths and would require the veneers to be replaced or repaired. The roll top section was damaged by somebody breaking into it. Breaking the wood and veneers. Inside the desk required new leathers fitted and tooled. The pigeon hole draws had some ebonised knobs missing , the pigeon hole compartments needed new fret to be made .During the restoration the desk has a locking mechanism the locks the pedestal draws once the roll top is closed. This was their but needed attention to get it to work again. Once all repairs were carried out the desk was cleaned then French polished .

21 notes · View notes

gukptune · 7 years ago

Text

Blood Rank || Two [m]

Pairing: jimin x reader

Genre: angst, vampire!au, highschool!au, smut

Warnings: vampire!reader, human!jimin, sub!jimin, foreplay, oral (giving), blood drinking, degradation, cumshot, etc.

Words: 3.9k

Plot Summary: Jimin is afraid for his best friend makes a deal with the devil he’s been in love with since he was 14.

a/n: not edited, sorry for any mistakes or errors in spelling and grammar!

Blood Rank - One / Two

Jimin hated confrontation, which is exactly why he’s been avoiding Sooyoung for the past few days. How he did this, he purposely went to classes way to early, took a different path, and ran the other way when he saw her coming.

In all honesty, Jimin expressing his crush wasn’t that big of a deal to the normal person but Jimin’s been into you since he was 14, since the first day he laid eyes on you. He’s known Sooyoung since they were little kids. He was afraid that Sooyoung would hate him, she probably did in his head. Sooyoung hates the council and he’s in love with the leader of it.

But ever since he’s left her side Sooyoung’s been confronted by Taehyung and his gang much more often and more violently. Jimin guessed that whatever you had talked to Taehyung about didn’t work or Taehyung was doing it behind your back. This made his heart sink, he hated seeing people being mistreated and this was his bestfriend.

If anything, Jimin felt like it was his duty to defend her even if he physically can’t. He would hear of the rumours about them from his dorm cafeteria since he avoided going to hers now.

Every now and then he’d see a quick but heavy setting shadow of you looming across the school, more often now. He felt like this was a message. He couldn’t do much to keep Taehyung away from Sooyoung, he knew he’d lose one day and won’t be able to protect her and with what’s happening he’s losing faster.

There was one person who can truly put an end to Taehyung’s actions, with the right offer. Jimin knew what to do, he just needed to figure out what he has to offer.

You didn’t do much in your day at school, attend classes like usual, stare out your office’s large floor to ceiling window and keep the school in order. As much as people believed that your job as president was easy, it wasn’t.

As of currently, you were seated on your loveseat instead of your desk just because you felt like laying down after the long day of deals and offers, that took a large toll on you since you were pretty much making life or death choices, you needed to stay focus and think about the consequences more than anything. Mostly try to be as ethical as you can― as much as a blood drinking monster could be.

Today you went through a mere 4 candidates who wanted trade, teeny ones this time, clear reputation, raise popularity― the basics of a egotistic and narcissistic population.

You prided yourself on being as equal as possible, usually that just means people get what they deserve, mostly what they pay for. Nothing’s ever free.

As you were drifting into your own fantasies and imagination, you heard the common footsteps coming closer and closer. Your ear drums vibrating harder as the noise gets closer.

High heels clinking against the hard wood floors of your large private space, only one person was allowed to come into your office without knocking on the door.

“There’s someone here to see you, he’s in the deliberation quarters right now,” Joohyun informed you. Your eyebrows raised at this as you looked at her, she talked to you casually as she is your best friend.

“I thought those four were our last today?” You asked with confusion, usually people take a few days to actually get their set deliberation date set. This was strange.

Joohyun breathed, “Well, he said it was urgent and something you’d really want to talk to him about. Apparently, it concerns you - a lot.”

Him? Using you as a leeway to get a faster deliberation was new. This was strangely urgent, people usually take a few days to actually think over their decision before the date.

You chuckled, “If it is a real concern of mine, send him in here.”

Joohyun’s eyes widened in shock, not a surprise as you barely actually let people in here. “Uhm, you’re sure?”

“If it’s the person I think it is, I’m sure,” You replied sternly. In your mind you did have a feeling that you knew who this person was. He sent a strange excitement through you whenever he’d blush when you were in sight.

“So, what do you want?” Your voice echos through the extremely quiet room, it was decorated like an old victorian mansion― the same way your house looks. You just wanted a homey feel to this place.

A light cough came out of the boy who sat in the seat you were previously in, you smiled to yourself at the sight of him squirming in that seat since it was the largest one in that area. He must’ve felt like he shouldn’t be sitting there.

You got yourself and him a drink, brushing past the decor you reached him and handed him the drink. His hands shaking as he took the drink from your hand, fingers grazing eachother― his cheeks getting pinkier than before. He whispered a thank you that was audible enough for you to hear.

You took a sip as he replied, “I- uhm, you know what happened between him and Sooyoung―”

“Him?” You repeated, purposely teasing him.

“You know him...” You knew he was afraid of calling Tae out, you sat across from him in a relatively smaller seat.

You let out a deep sigh, “He’s not here, no one else is here― no one else can hear this, Jimin...” His name rolling off your tongue, you could physically see a shift in his body language.

“I keep these conversations extremely private,” You reassured looking straight at him, he had his head slightly down, as if he was afraid to look right at you.

Jimin finally said something, “I’m just afraid of what Taehyung’s going to do with Sooyoung.”

You could hear the desperation and worry in his voice. Of course you know of what Tae can do and what he will do.

“That, I completely understand― I did talk to him but he will do what he wants,” You said.

Jimin’s face practically fell, “I.. thought you could do something about that.”

His hands fumbling as he said so, he was picking at his nails again, something you learnt was out of nerves.

“I could...” You mumbled, purposely trying to catch Jimin’s expression. His face filled with a sense of ease and hope.

You stood up as you continued, “Though, I don’t do things for free, especially if you’re personally asking me to do something.”

Jimin nods understandingly, “I-I’ve thought of something I could offer...”

You turned to face him, now with him looking directly into your eyes, a chill ran through your spine as you saw the look of determination on his face that was ever so attractive.

“Which is?”

“Me.”

His voice was stern, it was hot and deep. Fuck. You practically feel yourself gape at his word. Your head lifting up as your eyes widened and narrowed soon after.

“You?”

“I offer myself,” He deliberates.

“How so?” You could think of a few possible ways he could offer himself but you wanted to hear it come out of his perfectly pouty lips that were tinted rose pink.

Jimin sat up straight, “I’ll be a blood bag.”

Those words shot a bullet through you, Jimin, a blood bag. You weren’t going to let him be drank by those ruthless vampires around school.

“You think you could handle being dragged around from your neck by the student body? Do you actually think people will want your blood?” First you were only going to make sure he actually knew what he was saying but you felt like kicking him off his confident pedestal. Seeing the look on his face was all you wanted, that look where his lips turned upside down slightly, eyes glazed and eyebrows dropped, the look of a lost puppy.

“I don’t know... I―”

“I’ll tell you something,” You cut him off before he could even really begin, pushing past the coffee table that separated you and him, it moved over to the side making Jimin jump a little at the load noise it made, you stood infront of him.

You could feel his radiating body heat and heavy breathes, being a vampire you could also hear his heart beat - his every so quick pumps, so rapidly feeding your ever so large ego. You knew he felt heated, hot and heated, come on the girl of his dreams was in front of him. Only a few inches away.

You leaned down and pressed your hands on the seat, the tips of your fingers brushing against his hips. You caged him in and lead your face right in front of him. Silence fell upon the dark and moody room as you took him in, fully.

His parted hair was ruffled, as if he’s been combing through way too much, his lips parted as he couldn’t even breathe fast enough through his nose anymore. Beads of sweat rolling down the creamy skin of his neck, your eyes set on the very beating veins where you imagined his thick juicy blood ran.

All you wanted to do was place your lips on him, nip against the skin and take a huge bite into him. Imaging the noises he would make as he writhers under you.

His chest heaving up and down, his blazer tightly fitted, his tie was slightly loose and the white of his dress shirt was becoming transparent. This room was extremely cold yet he was hot and sweaty.

“Everyone would want you, I want you,” Your voice whispering by his ear, you could hear the gulp in his throat.

You leaned back to see his expression, his eyes were looking anywhere but at you and he was frozen.

“Jimin―” you lifted one of your hands off the seat and placed it under his chin, lifting it up so his eyes would meet yours. You could see the dark lust under it, and hoped he could see the same in yours.

“I will make sure Taehyung is put in his place, he will never bother her again, if you...” You stopped to run your thumb across his bottom lip, seeing it part as he took a breath.

“If I...” He mumbled, as his hooded eyes looked down at your hand.

“Give yourself to me-I refuse to share you,” You state having a voice of possession.

Jimin nods, “Okay, but...but―”

“But?”

“Will it hurt?” He said quietly as if it was something embarrassing to ask.

You frowned, “Only if I do it wrong―” You stopped as you see the look on his face.

“It hurts less when you’re pleasured,” You offered, moving the hand on his face down to his neck. Feeling the moist skin, your hand playing with the ends of his short hair. Caressing it ever so softly and feeling the vein beating against your palm.

“Pl-pleasured?” Jimin’s voice raised a little as he stuttered, “What do you mean?”

“Well, if you’re feeling good, the bite adds to the sensation...” You said as you lifted your right hand off the seat and placed it on his shoulder to sort of anchor yourself.

You lowered yourself down so you wouldn't have to keep craning your neck down to meet his gaze. You placed your leg onto the seat right in-between his legs. As you pushed your knee closer to him you felt something you wanted when your knee reached his body. You felt a relatively good sized bump bulging from the front of his pants.

You could see him exhale deeply, he looked directly into your eyes. His gaze was lustful, it was enough for you to believe he might’ve wanted it as much as you did.

“Is that okay?” You asked. The air in the room felt heavy, to you it felt like it just got ten times warmer - it was probably just you. Though you didn’t want him to know that.

Jimin nods in response, “Its perfect,” as he said that you nod and climb up onto the seat. Your other leg brushing against his left hip. You were straddling his left leg with your own left leg brushing again his growing, semi-hard dick.

“Good,” You brushed your hand down from his shoulder onto his chest right on his beating heart - feeling the beats that made you oh so excited. You pursed your lips as you looked down at him breathing heavily, right where you wanted him.

You pushed the navy blazer off his shoulder, as the blazer fell off his back you ran your palm against his toned back. You knew he was packing, he was on the league’s volleyball team. Jimin took the note that you wanted him undressed, he gained some sense of confidence as he harshly tugged the mahogany tie off his neck.

As you began to unbutton the silver buttons on his dress shirt you could see his toned chest through his wet shirt. It was pretty much see through at this point making you wonder if you made him sweat this much just from being around him.

Jimin’s breaths weren’t slowing down at all it seemed to have gotten faster, you wanted to hear his heart beat faster for you and all that took was a brief but hard push with your knee to his cock.

A strained groan pushed past his ever so perfect lips, eyes shut as if it was the best thing he’s ever felt. He leaned his head back, exposing the smooth skin of his neck to you.

As you unbuttoned down further and further revealing more and more of his ripped skin you felt even more warmth down where the centre of your body met his thigh, not forgetting how spreaded your legs were due to his thick thighs. All you wanted to do was just move back and forth against it but you needed to be selfless right now― giving him what he wants gives you something you’ve been craving.

His fully fleshed out and defined upper body nearly made you drool. His chest was moving up and down so heavily you could just imagine his heart popping out of it.

Pushing the bleached white shirt past his chest you placed both hands on his chest and slowly moved them down, feeling all the raised muscle against his skin.

An audible gulp escaped Jimin as his hands awkwardly flinched by his side. You chuckled at the older boy’s hesitation to touch you.

“Hey,” you took his hand in yours, rubbing your thumb against his knuckles trying to ease his nerves, “Don’t be nervous―”

You placed his thumb on your bottom lip, giving it a hard kiss before letting it slip through your lips - sucking on it as your tongue swirled around it eyes never leaving his, purposely giving him a tease of what’s to come.

“How-how can I not be when you’re looking at me like that,” Jimin gaped.

You immediately dropped his thumb out of your mouth, “How can I properly take your blood if you’re nervous - that’s just a recipe for disaster, do you want your blood squirting everywhere?” that’s a lie, that’s not how it works but it seemed to have had an affect on him.

His eyes were wide, probably fear, “I-I’d be less nervous if you let me touch you too...” He mumbled. It was cute, this showed you that he wanted it as much as you more than before.

“Okay,” was all you said before you took that hand of his and placed it on your behind, squeezing his hand hard so that he’d do that same to the shorts covered skin under your very short skirt.

He merely nods before kneading the part of your body that you were most proud of, though until he asked, “Isn’t it unfair?”

His eyes soft, “What is?” You questioned, before squeezing his raising shoulder.

“That I’m half naked and you’re not?”

“Hmm-I’m trying to drink your blood not the other way around,” You placed your lips on his neck hoping to shut him up. Jimin lets out a low moan when you lips worked against the skin on his neck. For you, you were mostly finding the best spot to sink your fangs into.

His hands brushing up past the hem of your skirt to hold onto your waist under your blazer, his touch was so soft yet had a huge effect on you.

You finally felt like you’ve been stalling for way too long and moved your pant down to the front of his pants where your knee was, palming the extension of his body, he held in a strangled groan.

“No one else can hear you but me, I want to hear you Jimin,” you whispered, blowing air past his ear hoping to send a chill down his spine. He nods quickly as you rolled your hand under it to reach his trapped package.

Your other hand beginning to unbutton and unzip the uniform pants, as it was undone you tugged at it motioning for Jimin to lift his butt off so you could slide them down, he did as you wanted whilst firmly holding onto your waist, whenever he’d feel good he’d give you a squeeze as if telling you to keep going.

“I’ve never done this before...” He mutters, which then made you chuckle.

“There’s a first for everything.”

Seeing the white boxers that covered his cock was enough to make you more wet, his semi-hard dick was already protruding through them - with the outline of the head so prominent all you wanted to do was run your tongue around. A hum passed your lips in satisfaction, also because of the wet patch due to his precum.

You were a tease, such a tease you loved when people would beg. You placed your pointer finger onto his dick which twitched with the slightest touch, only a thin fabric separated the warmth of his skin and the warmth of yours. Another groan passed his lips, much louder this time.

“Please,” He moaned.

“Please?”

Jimin’s eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were filled with passion, he looked like he was going to cry, but out of pleasure. He nods after your response but that wasn’t enough for you. “Be clear, Park.”

Jimin coughed to clear his throat after keeping silent and merely whispering the whole time, “Please, touch me, ______, I’m begging you, I want to feel your perfectly kept hands on my dick-”

“Oh, good boy, keep going.”

“I want you to play with me, toy me, fuck- make me cum, please,” His voice was loud and needy. Jeez, this made you wonder if this boy was really a first timer, well really everything he said sounded like he’s heard it out of porn.

You grinned satisfied with his response. Pulling down his boxers so quickly he could barely breathe before getting down on your knees. If only you could actually see the look on his face, all he could probably think was how the student council president was actually on her knees for him about to suck him off. The girl who never liked doing things herself. Probably the most powerful vampire in existence too, the girl most feared was actually taking it slow with him and being ever so gentle. He could’ve never dreamed of his actually happening.

He actually wanted to smack himself a few times to make sure this wasn’t a dream because he did not want to wake from it. God, seeing your perfectly braided hair, looking down on it was something not may could say.

Your hands were working fast, his breath hitched when your bare fingers graced on his growing cock which you’ve released - seeing the sheer size of it impressed you. Of course he wasn’t the largest you’ve seen but large enough, making you practically drool.

You looked up to meet his eyes, which were hooded and watching your hand on him, you smirked slightly before slowly placing a wet kiss on the tip of his dick - feeling the moist head completely twitch. You hummed before dipping your tongue onto the slit of his throbbing dick.

An aspirated moan passed his lips as he leaned back again the couch leaving his lower half more open. You ran your hands up and down his thighs before placing them on the base of his dick, it was pulsing and needed release. You’re perfectly polished fingers were coated in his precum that didn’t seem to stop seeping out of him.

You quickly leaned forward giving the hole on his tip a lick which took away most of the cum left there, your hand moved down to fondle with his balls - you groaned when a he lets out a surprised moan and jumped up slightly at your action.

Your gums were aching at this point, groaning at your own need you slowly made your way up his body - kissing up his groin, stomach, chest and landed yourself on his neck.

Giving open mouthed kisses to his most prominent jugular. Yours hands roaming around his sides, “How do you feel?”

“Good,” He sighed, giving you a look that satisfied you. He was so into it, his eyes darkened and lustful, he was practically in his own euphoria― perfect chance for you to take a bite.

You grinned before running your left hand back down to his cock and jerking him off. His body tensed and his hands were gripping onto your sides tightly, telling you that he was quite close. You could feel his raising heart rate and vibrating body.

Parting your lips as your elongated your fangs, you trailed the sharp point down his exposed neck giving him a tease - his breath hitching and a short moan left him.

Humming you placed your head - angled in position and pushed yourself into him. Your fangs completely in him, he lets out a strained moan as you felt blood trailing into your mouth, god knowing that it was his first time being drawn his blood tasted metallic like all blood but then it became creamy and smooth to you.

Uh, the feeling of fresh warm blood immediately makes you groan. “____, I’m- fuck- I’m close―” His voice breaks you out of your thirsty trance.

Knowing this you pumped his dick faster feeling the twitching in it as you do. He then started to cum, moaning your name as he does - his head against your shoulder trying to breath as he left himself go.

You could feel your hand becoming completely soaked, and pulled your fangs out of him - yet again a groan came out of him as you left him. You gave him a lick to heal and looked down at his glorious mess.

“That-wow....” He was heaving, his exposed chest moving up and down.

You placed your clean finger on his lips, “I know,” moving that finger down to his chest, “I could feel it.”

Before capturing his lips in a deep and wet kiss. Your tongue passing through his submissive lips so easily, his muffled whines were felt through your lips. He shakily, due to his orgasm, lightly pushed your shoulder back.

“What’s going to happen... now?” You wondered if he meant with you and him or with Sooyoung and Tae.

“Well,” your eyes met his, “I deal with Tae―”

“No... with us,” He answered your unasked question.

You hummed before seeing his pouted lips which made you frown, he was probably a little upset you even hesitated, “Jimin, we can do whatever you want.”

c. 2018

#jimin #park jimin #bts #jimin scenario #jimin smut #jimin imagine #bts smut #bts scenario #bts imagines #park jimin smut #sub!jimin #vampire!reader #coldenheart writing

517 notes · View notes

dawnjeman · 6 years ago

Text

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Rental Home

Hello, my wonderful friends! It’s really great to start this week with a new Beautiful Homes of Instagram and I know this one will inspire many readers.

Dani Ferretti of @GoldCoastCanvas is talented, brave and she is here to show us that we can make of our home a “home-sweet-home” wherever we are, regardless if it’s our forever home or a rental.

Please, make sure to follow her on Instagram (it will make her day!) and take notes on how she decorated her beautiful rental home!

Hey friends, Dani of @goldcoastcanvas here! I’m so humbled that Luciane reached out to me and it is truly an honor to be featured among such incredibly talented designers here on HomeBunch. I never would have imagined that our once plain-jane rental home would someday be worthy of this. I am feeling excited and grateful (and maybe a little bit like the new girl at the lunch table!).

My boyfriend Brad and I both grew up in South Florida and we are true barefoot, ocean-loving Florida kids at heart. We’ve both bounced around the country (and the globe) quite a bit since leaving home. We most recently moved to Austin, Texas where we’ll stay until it’s time to make the permanent move back home to Florida.

As you can imagine, being away from family and the ocean takes some adjusting to. This is why it was so important that our home in Austin, no matter how temporary, still have space for guests and still reflect that breezy lifestyle we love most. We chose a modern, new-construction home in South Austin not far from downtown. It was the perfect jumping off point for the activities we love most: hiking the greenbelt with our chocolate lab Soko, hitting up our favorite taco truck, or catching some waves at the surf park (yes, you can surf in the middle of Texas!)

I have always loved coastal decor, but it took me years to hone in on my true design aesthetic. Once I started focusing on how I wanted our home to feel rather than how I wanted it to look, everything clicked into place. For this house, I really wanted to create a home that felt like a sanctuary and that was easy to live in – where spaces felt organic and nothing was too precious. I think that is what makes coastal homes so appealing to me. They are meant for the happy messes of sandy feet and salty hair.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Rental Home

This is the talented homeowner, Dani, with her adorable dog. I am so proud of how she made of this rental a real home.

Home Location: Austin, Texas

Home Specs: Modern, 3 bed / 2.5 bath, 2000sqft

Entryway

Front Door: Custom ETO Doors 5-Lite Quinque door – similar here & here.

Chandelier: Existent – similar here, here, here & here.

Rug: World Market – similar here.

Flooring

Flooring: 5” Hickory Celebration in Honey Spice by Shaw Flooring.

Wall & Trim Color: Custom formula by Sherwin Williams.

Console Table

For this house, I really wanted to create a home that felt like a sanctuary and that was easy to live in – where spaces felt organic and nothing was too precious. I think that is what makes coastal homes so appealing to me. They are meant for the happy messes of sandy feet and salty hair.

Console Table: Here in Distressed Grey – similar here & here.

Faux Stems: Pottery Barn.

Vase: Target (no longer available) – Others: here & here.

Similar Baskets: here, here & here.

Living Room

I continued the neutral palette into the living room so as not to overwhelm the open space. I grounded it with an amazing collection of pillows from my favorite shops and an earthy, warm coffee table that everyone can gather around. We are just weeks away from getting a brand new custom sofa. I wish it had come in time for pictures but I’ll definitely be sharing it on my feed when it does arrive – so stay tuned!

Beautiful Sectionals: here, here (on sale), here & here.

Tree

Tree: Arbequina Olive Tree – similar here (faux).

Tree Basket: World Market.

Large Basket: here – similar.

Art Print: Deb Presutto.

Pillows

Block Print Pillow: McGee & Co.

Denim Stripe Pillow: one-of-a-kind – Others: here, here & here – similar.

White Pillow: here – similar.

Marble Tray: Terrain.

Coffee Table

Coffee Table: Eclectic Goods – similar here, here & here.

Kitchen

The thing that sold me most on this house was the kitchen. As serial renters, we were used to dealing with suboptimal cooking spaces (our kitchen in our San Francisco apartment had about two feet of counter space!) This one felt like a long-awaited luxury to us. I softened the modern finishes with more organic selections like the vintage-inspired rug, aged cutting boards and handmade ceramic dishware.

Wall Color: Dolphin Fin by Behr.

Kitchen Island Dimensions

Island Dimensions: 42” x 94”.

Faucet: Moen.

Kitchen Rug: McGee & Co – Other Beautiful Runners: here, here, here, here, here & here.

Wall Paint Color

Wall paint color is Dolphin Fin by Behr.

Kitchen Cabinet

Cabinets are 42” Armstrong Sienna Cabinets in Alpine White.

Kitchen Hardware

Hardware: Amerock Bar Pulls in Sterling Nickel.

Vintage Painting: McGee & Co.

Fruit Basket: Shoppe Amber Interiors – similar here.

Countertop & Backplash

Counters are Black Pearl granite.

Similar Cutting Boards: here.

Crock: West Elm.

Bud Vase: McGee & Co.

Backsplash: 8.5” x 2” subway tile – similar here – Other Beautiful Tiles: here, here, here & here.

Kitchen Lighting

Light pendants are the 16” Waikiki from MyBaliLiving – similar here & here.

Beautiful Counterstools: here, here, here, here & here.

Dining Area

Our dining room is small but I knew we needed a sizable table for big dinner gatherings. To make it work, I opted for benches that could be pushed under the table when not in use. I love how it created a cozy little nook on the wall side. The photos above the table are actually sketches of the different homes we’ve made memories in: Brad’s apartment in Sydney, the St. Louis bungalow my father grew up in and the 120 year old Victorian we lived in in San Francisco.

Wall Color: Dolphin Fin by Behr.

Table: Pier 1.

Chairs (beige): Overstock.

Wide Mat Frames (gray): Pottery Barn.

Vase: Areo Home Clay Water Pots – also available here.

Laundry Room

A small hallway leads to a laundry room and powder room.

Laundry Basket: No longer available – Other Options: here, here, here, here & here.

Brass Frame: World Market.

Basket Tray: Kouboo.

Rug: Loloi.

Powder Room

Dani did such a great job with the decor!

Gallery Frame: West Elm.

Pedestal Sink: here – similar.

Bud Vase: McGee & Co.

Faucet: Moen.

Home Office

Upstairs, we have an open loft area that looks out over our living room. I work from home full-time and knew immediately that this would make a great office because it’s a defined space that still feels open to the rest of the house.

Rug

DIY

I wanted to do something unique with the alcove so we opted for some large, diy floating shelves and a gallery wall featuring some of our favorite pieces.

Desk: World Market – Also seen on these “Beautiful Homes of Instagram”: here & here.

Colors & Textures

While I stuck with earthy neutrals, I used this space as an opportunity to be a little more playful with color and pattern.

Desk Chair: Joss & Main.

Pillow: McGee & Co.

Brass Planter: World Market.

Kumquat Print: Nancy Noreth.

Loft

The oversize armchair on the opposite side of the room is a great place for reading (or napping!)

Chair

Chair is from Ashley Furniture – similar chair with ottoman.

Side Table: West Elm.

Lamp: World Market.

Button Pillow: West Elm – similar here.

Wide Mat Gallery Frame over armchair: Pottery Barn.

Guest Bedroom

Down the hall is our guest bedroom. I reupholstered an existing bed to give it a clean linen look like the one in our own room. This room really challenged me to flex my creative muscles and I love the unexpected combination of old and new. The aged metals, rugged handmade nightstands and modern decor accents all come together to create a space that I hope any guest can appreciate.

Sconces: Visual Comfort – Others: here, here, here & here.

Bedding

Bed Blanket in Cool: Coyuchi.

Quilt: here & here – similar

Pillows

Blue Throw Pillows: McGee & Co.

White Pillow: here & here – similar.

Rug

Rug is from McGee & Co.

Paint Color

Walls: Dolphin Fin by Behr.

Curtains: Pottery Barn.

Desk

Desk is from Joss & Main.

Mirror: here – similar.

Chair

Chair: McGee & Co.

Desk Lamp: Wayfair.

Vase: Areo Home Clay Water Pots – also available here.

Clock: McGee & Co.

Panoramic Painting (in closet): McGee & Co.

Guest Bathroom

I extended this same theme of old and new into the guest bathroom.

Rug: Loloi.

Wall Paint Color

Hardware: Amerock Bar Pulls in Sterling Nickel.

Prints by Marcelle Calder.

Counters: Cultured marble.

Faucets: Moen.

Master Bedroom

I took my time designing our master bedroom and it is my absolute favorite room in the house. I wanted to keep this room clean and simple, while still giving it enough layers to feel cozy. I stuck with two main colors – a blue/grey and cream – and brought things to life with lots of different textures. From the driftwood nightstands to the chunky cotton quilt to the faded rug, everything in this room is meant to feel a bit organic and weathered, yet still refined.

Paint Color & Bedding

Wall Color: Silver Drop by Behr.

Sunset Painting: McGee & Co.

Quilt: West Elm (I highly recommend bedding by West Elm).

Striped Bed Blanket in Gray: Evangeline Linens Pinstripe Blanket 100% Cotton – similar here & here.

Blue Throw Pillows: McGee & Co.

Bed & Rug

Bed: Skyline Furniture – also here (without nailhead).

Beautiful Throws: here, here, here, here, here & here.

Rug: Surya.

Nightstand

Nightstands are from Pottery Barn.

Nightstand Decor

Basket Tray (with books): here.

Vase: West Elm.

Table Lamps: Pottery Barn.

Master Bathroom

In our master bathroom, the contrast of the dark tiling and the white finishes adds a touch of drama. I kept decor simple with some minimalist palm prints and a faded vintage-inspired runner.

Rug: No longer available – similar here.

Cabinetry

Cabinets: Armstrong Sienna Cabinets in Alpine White.

Tile: 16 x 24 – existing – similar here, here & here.

Towels: Parachute Home.

Beautiful Hampers: here, here, here & here.

Countertop

Counters: Cultured Marble.

Vase: McGee & Co.

Hand towels: McGee & Co – similar here.

Hardware: Amerock Bar Pulls in Sterling Nickel.

Faucets: Moen.

Backyard

Having usable outdoor space was really important to us. However, when we moved in, our backyard was just a plain patch of grass. Since we’re renting, we worked with our landlord to come up with an affordable solution. With my dad’s help, we built this raised gravel patio ourselves!

Bistro Set: Ikea.

Outdoor Furniture

Outdoor Sectional: No longer available – Others: here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Umbrella: here – similar.

Stool / Side Table: Safavieh.

Home-Sweet-Home

The new raised gravel patio ended up being a hit in the neighborhood and inevitably, all of our gatherings end up out here. I’m so glad we went for it! It serves as a reminder that no matter where you’re living at the moment, it’s always worth a little investment to make it feel like home. You don’t have to wait for your dream house!

Many thanks to Dani for sharing all of the details above.

Make sure to follow her on Instagram to see more of her beautiful home!

Blog: Gold Coast Canvas.

Best Sales of the Month:

Thank you for shopping through Home Bunch. I would be happy to assist you if you have any questions or are looking for something in particular. Feel free to contact me and always make sure to check dimensions before ordering. Happy shopping!

Serena & Lily: 20% off Dining Event. Use code: ENTERTAINING

Wayfair: Up to 75% OFF – President’s Day Huge Sales on Decor, Furniture & Rugs!!!

Joss & Main: End of Season Sale: Up to 85% Off!!! Free shipping with code: STARS

Pottery Barn: 20% off + Free Shipping. Use Code: WEEKEND

One Kings Lane: High Quality Design Decor for Less – Save 20% Sitewide Puls and Extra 10% with code: OKLPRES19

West Elm: 20% Off your entire Purchase + Free Shipping: Use Code: WINTER

Anthropologie: Take an extra 40% off all sale items! See Joanna Gaines Exclusive line here!

Urban Outfitters: Hip & Affordable Home Decor.

Horchow: High Quality Furniture and Decor. Up to 30% off the entire site!

Nordstrom: Up to 40% OFF!

Arhaus: Up to 60% OFF!

Posts of the Week:

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Fixer Upper.

Colorful Coastal Interiors.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Horse Farm.

Modern Coastal Shingle Home.

Empty Nester Kitchen Renovation.

Kitchen Renovation with Before & After Pictures.2019 New Year Home Tour.

Full-scale Home Remodel Inspiration.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: How to Build your own Home.

Interior Design Ideas: Grey Shingle Home.

Connecticut Beach House.

Interior Design Ideas: Colorful Interiors.

New England Home.

Interior Design Ideas: Home Renovation.Classic Colonial Home Design. Family-friendly Home Design.

New Year, New Beautiful Homes of Instagram.

Grey Kitchen Paint Colors.

Follow me on Instagram: @HomeBunch

You can follow my pins here: Pinterest/HomeBunch

See more Inspiring Interior Design Ideas in my Archives.

“Dear God,

If I am wrong, right me. If I am lost, guide me. If I start to give-up, keep me going.

Lead me in Light and Love”.

Have a wonderful day, my friends and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

with Love,

Luciane from HomeBunch.com

Come Follow me on

Get Home Bunch Posts Via Email

Contact Luciane

“For your shopping convenience, this post might contain links to retailers where you can purchase the products (or similar) featured. I make a small commission if you use these links to make your purchase so thank you for your support!”

from Home http://www.homebunch.com/beautiful-homes-of-instagram-rental-home/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

2 notes · View notes

peppusae · 6 years ago

Text

[kth] lavender honey ch. 3

note: this fanfic has more than one part, so pls look forward for more!

lavender honey: kim taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, crack, college au, smut(?)

word count: 3k

💫

lavender honey

ch 3: in which taehyung despises knowing the sexual orientation of dead ‘literists’

"Hey, Taehyung, do you think Shakespeare is gay?" You ask, slipping into the seat beside him at the counter the next week.

Honestly, you're ready to change your dissertation topic from 'Kim Taehyung's various facial features' to 'William Shakespeare's sexuality' now, and you feel a surge of pride as you lean against the swivel chair and exhale in content at your new discovery.

It's a warm Tuesday evening, and the library is lined with dozens of students, most of them having their laptops turned on and typing like crazy. Perhaps they were those students who had an assignment due midnight, and you smile, glad that you had actually handed your work in a little earlier this time. Good job, you're actually patting yourself for a job well done as you take your seat.

Taehyung, however, does not smile.

In fact, his face scrunches up a bit as he stares at you with a questioning look.

"What sort of black magic are you doing again to twist my otherwise perfectly normal life, [Name]?"

Black magic. Apparently, Taehyung watches way too many movies.

"No, I'm serious. Am I the only one who thinks this way?" You wonder out loud, reaching for the thick paperback inside your backpack. "Look at this."

Taehyung moves a little closer to you in his chair, the rolling of the wheels making a few heads look up from their laptops and stare at him. The male hurries to give a sheepish smile, waving it off before he turns back to look at the book on your lap.

Look, this is what double standards are like. If you'd done the same, you swear the girls who are seated at the desks would have glared daggers at your fragile being, but it's Taehyung, and Taehyung's a hot dude.

Hot dudes always have it easy aka girls giggling like they've just discovered the kind of boxer briefs Jungkook wears.

Not that you've ever considered this before.

Anyways, back to the issue in hand-

"'Shakespeare's sonnets'? What's a sonnet, and what about it?" Taehyung wants to know, taking it in his hands and flipping through a couple of pages.

You kinda wanna punch him for being uncultured enough to not know what a sonnet is, but the fact that he asked what it is makes you forgive him (it's not his confused expression that looks so cute that forgives him, nope).

"A sonnet is a form of poetry which has fourteen lines," you explain, "It usually has like ten syllables per line, but I don't think that matters to you-"

"I'm surprised that you're actually using that brain of yours, for once." Taehyung muses, and you poke him in the waist, which in turn makes him chuckle and turn back to the whitish-yellow pages of the poem book. "Because you're right, it doesn't matter to me."

"Rude." You hiss. "So you see. Good ol' Shakeypakey here wrote 154 sonnets, okay? So, it was split into two parts based on-"

"Wait, did you just call a dead literist 'Shakeypakey'?" He asks, horrified.

"There is no word in the dictionary called literist. You can, instead, use-"

"That is beyond the point here, [Name]!"

"Listen," you hiss, snatching the book back from his clutches, "He has written 126 sonnets about a young man - a very fucking attractive man - and the other 28 sonnets are about a woman. Literally, he wrote at least 5 times more sonnets about the pretty dude."

"...So?"

Oh my god, there's a limit to beings freaking clueless but Taehyung likes climbing higher pedestals. Even The Himalayas would be ashamed. You shake your head in frustration.

"So! Why else would he be so obsessed with writing like 82 percent of his sonnet book about the man if he's not gay?"

Taehyung blinks at you in shock for a long moment, not moving a single muscle. You wonder if he was actually contemplating your reasoning, but then again... Taehyung was Taehyung, after all.

"Did you... do that math... just to..."

"Yes I did the math, so what? It makes so much sense. Maybe he's not gay, maybe he's like bisexual? Because even the sonnets about the Dark Lady was kinda kinky too so I think he has a lot of heterosexual shades too. Who knows."

"This is information I could live without, [Name]." Taehyung finally sighs, moving away from you and sighing. You watch as he begins to clear up his desk space, appalled that he wouldn't understand your very detailed reasoning.

If this is his reaction to your newfound discovery of Shakespeare's sexuality, then you sincerely hope Taehyung will never see your browser history with multiple search tabs of 'kinky Shakespeare'.

Plus that one meme you found of the poet's face cropped out and stuck to the ass of-

"I'm going to go put the books away." Taehyung announces, interrupting your fraying thoughts by picking up the handful of books that have been returned earlier.

Oh no you don't-

"Shakespeare was probably from a Victorian-ish era, you know? Those times when ladies wore metal frills on their skirts to make them more poofy and shit." You hurry to say. "His mama might have stabbed one of the metal frill shit into his ear if he said he was gay. Maybe he was in a polyamorous relationship, maybe he was the one who invented the idea-"

"Oh my fuck, shut the hell up." Taehyung hisses, standing up and stomping away. You blink at him as he takes the trolley of books, quickly making his way to the shelves and starting to put the books away.

Talk about being narrow-minded.

"So, your brother is Namjoon, right?" Taehyung asks the next day, slipping by your seat during lunch.

The cafeteria is excessively crowded, the jet line filled with students seeking a second helping of the ice-cream sandwiches they're handing out for free. According to Jimin, it's on occasion of Ice-cream Day, which you think is the stupidest invention that ever exists.

"Yes, but," you warn between gritted teeth, "Stop talking about it. I'd rather most people don't know. I'm not gonna be that one sister that the girls suck up to so that I'd help them get brownie points with Joon, like back in high school."

"You have a good point... It must have been hard for you, right?"

This makes you soften up a little, nodding back at the male who frowns sadly at you. So, even if Taehyung enjoys annoying you, he can be nice if he wants to.

"Oh, there's Jungkookie! Yah, Kook-ah, come here and sit with your Noona!" Taehyung yells from beside you, and the said brown-haired male's eyes widen as he pauses in his tracks, blinking at you two in surprise and his face going very pink.

You can't blame him, you must be at least two shades redder than he is.

You take it back, Taehyung is not nice at all.

"Over here, Kookie!" Jimin greets, patting the seat beside him. Yoongi lets out a small grunt beside you, and you sigh, giving your best smile to the freshman and motioning for him to join you lot.

Jungkook looks hesitant, quietly nodding and taking a seat right in front of you. Taehyung is paying for this later. Wait till you hide his library card. He's gonna suffer. And you're gonna be the one ugly giggling inside.

"So, Kookie, we were talking about how we can help Joon-hyung and Jin-hyung get together. Do you have any ideas?"

"Ah, so they do like each other. I always thought that too." Jungkook blinks in surprise.

"Even the kid knows. Why is it that those two little shits are the only ones who don't know how they feel about each other?" Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh. "If they got together, Namjoon might stop writing depressing songs and start working on more brighter songs."

"Maybe they can go to a carnival. Seokjin-hyung has a thing for alpacas, right?" Jimin asks.

"That's a weird animal to have a kink for, but I'm not judging-"

"Shut up." You hiss, elbowing Taehyung, and the male doubles over, laughing and being proud enough to have elicited out a reaction from you. Jungkook watches the exchange in silence, and when you meet eyes with him, he looks away, turning to Jimin instantly and saying 'So? What about alpacas?'

Weird.

"Well, they can go to a carnival, Namjoon-hyung can play one of those dart games, or those ball-throwing games. He wins an alpaca plushie, and he gives it to Seokjin-hyung and tells him how he feels."

"That's like an unarmed battle with a bunch of sirens. Joon can't win no matter what he tries, he's not the most athletic nut in the world." You state.

"Si... Sirens?" Taehyung chokes, an eyebrow raises in confusion.

"Yeah? You know, those pretty fucked-looking female sea creatures that try to seduce idiots like you to get you into the sea and st-"

"I know what a siren is, you dolt," Taehyung sighs, "I took five weeks of Greek Mythology in my freshman year. I remember writing 'Sirens' in Google search and having nightmares."

"Then, why are you looking at me with that face?"

"... What face?"

"It looks like a fuck face minus the innuendo-inducing expression that you use. It's that face you make when you're confused to the level where you don't even know what speaking is, and you look like you accidentally ate ruined kimchi from a ripoff Korean-wannabe shop."

"I do not. And that's really specific, has that ever happened to you?"

"Down at Lindsay's Korean Meals stand a few blocks from the library. I had food poisoning for days."

"That's kinda sad. Was it recent?"

"Nah. I missed like four classes of Advanced Psychology classes near the start of the semester, remember?"

"Oh, then?"

"Yeah. Food poisoning is sad."

"Yeah. Please take care when you eat out, okay, [Name]?" Taehyung smiles at you, and the gesture is so soft that it makes you smile back like an idiot until you hear the sound of throat clearing.

And that's when you remember that Jungkook is staring at you two, and his expression is hard to read, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed a little as if... as if...

Wow, you really shouldn't be a language major after all, if you can't describe something as basic as an expression.

Another, more defensive side of you pipes in, claiming that it's fine, reading expressions are the tasks of psychology majors, which you clearly aren't.

It's while you have this debate, that Taehyung - who seems to have noticed the way Jungkook is playing around with the bowl of grapes in his tray - coos 'Kookieeeee, what's wrong?' in a sing-song voice.

Jungkook does not respond, eyes hard and now looking at you, and both the angel and devil on your shoulder that's having the language vs psychology war together stops, making you gulp.

"The heck is this tension here? Let me do some mood-making here with my funny humour that no one can get enough of." A loud voice has to say, and all three of you look up and see Seokjin holding his tray proudly, a smiling Namjoon beside him.

"No thanks, Hyung." Yoongi speaks, picking up his almost-empty tray of food and standing up. Jimin, seeing this action, scarfs down the rest of his kimchi and rice, following the older male a couple steps behind after saying a hard-to-decipher 'bye guys!'

"Well, it's okay. Jimin might get offended if he was here to witness this amazing question that I have for all you earthlings."

"But Hyung, you're an earthling too. Or, are you an alien?" Taehyung has to butt in, and you hush him, glancing at Seokjin so that he would say whatever he has to say and get it over with. Namjoon takes the now-free seat beside you, and all eyes are on Seokjin who plops his tray beside Jungkook's, hands on his hips and puffs his chest out with a big smile.

"If Jiminie eats a mochi, does that count as cannibalism?"

"Oh my god, please stop, Hyung." Taehyung mumbles, while, beside you, Namjoon is cracking up like the loser that he is.

You think you hear Hani and Hyojin giggling, while Jungkook just stares at Seokjin as if he couldn't believe what the male had said.

"This story won't be fun without my jokes-"

"YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT OUT LOUD."

You're in charge of putting away the books for today, and the trolly is lugged to the side while you look up barcode numbers and do your job in peace.

But there's a being that taps your shoulder, and no one should really blame you for being scared and starting to scream. The light above the philosophy aisle is dimmer than the other isles, so it makes you wary of beings other than human.

But there's a hand that covers your mouth, muffling your scream. God. What a sucky way to die. It's kinda kinky if you think about it, but why is a stranger making you die at the philosophy aisle, at least let you move over to the language aisle, it's literally only three rows away for crying out loud-

"Noona, it's only me." The voice says, and you turn around, seeing Jungkook smiling at you with a fond expression, looking highly amused when you hide your face in embarrassment.

"Kookie, what are you doing?!" You hiss, punching his arm and taking a couple steps back - the kid was standing way too close for comfort.

"I wanted to say hello." He shrugs, watching as you pick up a book and place it back on the shelf. "Extra-credit, right?"

You give him a nod, waving the cardholder you have around your neck. The picture of yours had come out good, you had every right to show it off to the hot freshman, okay?

Jungkook takes hold of the card, smiling down at your beaming picture, and - wait a second, his finger just touched your left boob, rip virginity - he comes so close to you that it makes you slightly intimidated as you nervously look up at the male.

And wow, this must be what interactions with angels feel like; you can see the scar on his left cheek, his pretty doe eyes, and the slightly chapped lips of his from this close, and he-

"Noona, do you want to go out with me sometime?"

"Sure, I- Wait..."

"To see a movie and eat and stuff. You're majoring in language, right? I'm sure we can have a lot of discussions about the movie after it's over."

Wait wait wait pause rewind-

Hey, now that you think about it, dissecting a movie and over-analysing it sounds like fun...

"I mean, well, of course I wouldn't mind going with you, Kookie, but do you mean..."

A platonic going out, or-

"Definitely not a platonic going out."

Shit, did you say that out loud?

"Yes you did, Noona."

"Oh."

"This is probably selfish of me to ask, but, remember that really boxy white shirt you wore once with that blue skinny jeans? Do you think you can wear it for our first date? I really liked it, but for some reason, you didn't wear it after that one day."

Yes, because Namjoon accidentally splashed ketchup all over it when you both had gone to KFC for chicken and fries later that day.

But you aren't going to tell Jungkook that, of course.

"Um. Sure, okay, I'm good to go." You tell him, and you can feel your cheeks flushing in embarrassment while you aggressively take a stack of books and stuff them back on the shelf.

"I'll message you, then?"

You give him a thumbs up, too flustered to look at his face, and Jungkook responds with a small laugh, hands clutching on the hanging straps of his backpack before he quickly runs away. And only after he does so, are you able to let out a huge breath you weren't aware you were holding.

Dragging the now empty trolly, you make your way to the reception desk. Taehyung's laptop's lid is closed now, and he has his chin rested on his hand as he watches you make your way back to the desk and take a seat.

Wordlessly, he reaches a hand out and presses his hand on your cheek. You are about to protest, when he moves his hand back and raises an eyebrow at you.

"You're quite obvious, Ms. Kim."

"Shut up. I just accidentally bumped into Kookie when I was putting the books away, that's all."

"I know."

You expect him to tease you, but he doesn't. Even when you finish up work and Namjoon is waiting to pick you both up and drive you home, he says nothing to your brother.

"Hey, Joonie?"

"Yes, my dearest little sister to whom I will share half my food, half my world, half my milky way, and half of everything I have to offer?"

"You're buying me the same exact white shirt you poured ketchup over. I have a date and I need it."

"Oooh, did the freshman kid finally make a move on you?"

"Shut up. We're driving to the mall and spending half of your allowance. You'll do that for your dearest little sister for whom you said you would give half of everything to offer, right?"

Namjoon has nothing to say while he digs in to see how much cash he has on himself.

Serves him right.

And you find it oddly uncharacteristic, the way Taehyung wordlessly waves goodbye to the two of you and leaves, when Namjoon stops by the younger male's apartment.