#What subjects you study in Interior Design

[ivsschool001]

What is Interior Design Course

https://www.ivsindia.com/blog/what-is-interior-design-course/ An interior design course is an educational program or series of classes that teaches individuals the principles, skills, and knowledge required to become a professional interior designer. Colleges, universities, and design schools typically offer these courses.

[blindmagdalena]

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter six)

18+ 4.6k. homelander x f!reader. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, abuse, forced relationship, slow burn, eventual smut. gif credit | fic directory | AO3.

“You must never run from anything immortal. It attracts their attention. Walk slowly, and pretend to be thinking of something else. Sing a song, say a poem, do your tricks, but walk slowly.” ― The Last Unicorn

When he first moved into it, Homelander loved everything about his penthouse. He’d given extensive feedback to the interior design team, even going so far as to offer crude sketches of what he wanted.

He’d always had a specific vision for his home: spacious and open, but not vacant. Rich colors that wouldn’t strain his eyes. Windows and mirrors that gave and reflected as much light and space as possible. 

No white walls. 

Not a single blank space. 

He wanted art on the walls, but not just any art. He wanted historic portraits and moments of history. A face on every wall, the same way that the people on TV had pictures of people on their walls.

Pictures of their family.

He doesn’t have a family, so familiar figures from his studies would have to do instead.

His favorite place was his bedroom. The mirrors give not only the illusion of space, but company.

To this day the bed is as plush as it was then. It’s stacked with fluffy pillows, and the sheets are made of soft cotton. They’re always vibrant, always colorful. The staff washes them in gentle detergent instead of bleach.

He spent his first night in that bed with his face buried in the pillow just smelling it.

It smelled like home.

However, the longer he’s lived in his penthouse, the more the spaciousness of it began to feel like absence. The distinct lack of something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on right away.

It eased on the odd occasion that he had company, but as soon as they were gone, it was as though their presence had carved out holes in his home that he couldn’t fill.

He added statues. More portraits. He left the television running because the silence of his own isolation had become deafening. He started spending more time away. His home had gradually morphed from a place of freedom into a finely decorated version of the same horrible fluorescent box he spent his childhood in.

At least in the box he’d known there were people watching him. With him.

How he’d hated it back then. He hated how he could always hear the camera lenses adjusting as they monitored him from somewhere else.

It makes him sick to have missed it even a bit.

Thanks to you, he no longer has to.

There’s an inherent thrill to coming home that had been lost before you. Excitement starts to prickle up his spine as soon as he steps into the elevator and hits his floor. He can’t remember the last time he’s been so excited to go home.

Every day this week you’ve cooked for him, sat with him, laid in his arms, lived with him. In the last three days you’ve come a long way from the timid thing you started as, no longer jumping at his every move. You still tense at his touch, but he’s willing to bet a few more of those massages will remedy that.

Your presence can be felt even when he’s at work. He recently connected the hidden security camera on his balcony to his phone, ensuring he gets pinged any time you open that door. He isn’t worried about you going off unattended that way, given that it’s a hundred story drop.

It makes him smile to see you getting braver, occasionally stepping out onto the concrete to stare out across the cityscape. Soon he’s going to have to take you for that flight he promised. 

While he’s spent these evenings with you blessedly free of obligations, tonight will be different. He has to leave, and he won’t be able to bring you with him. At least not yet. You aren’t ready for that kind of exposure, nor what being revealed as his beloved would entail.

The media would eat you alive. He won’t subject you to them without proper preparation.

He isn’t cruel.

Vought’s hosting a gala that will serve as the early foundation of their campaign to move supes into the military, and as such, the U.S. Secretary of Defense will be in attendance, and it’s Homelander’s job to convince the man of the innumerable benefits of the operation. 

Ridiculous. He might as well try and argue the benefits of a smartphone to a fish.

If these people can’t understand why having honest to god superheroes in their military is a good idea, he doubts anything shy of a hand delivered miracle from God would sway the morons.

It’s just common sense, for fuck’s sake. War has only ever been a matter of who could bring the biggest gun. They will never find a greater weapon than him, much less a weapon that chooses to protect them.

However undeserving of it they may be.

He lets out a rough breath and shakes his head to knock loose the talking points that have been bashed into his skull over the course of the week, determined to leave work at the door. 

“I’m hoooome,” he sings as he steps in through the doorway, the mechanism locking behind him with a soft beep.

It feels good to know you’re safe here. While he doesn’t have enemies, per se, there’s no telling what some lunatic could be driven to do if they knew about you.

“Living room,” you call.

The familiarity of it makes him smile.

This is what coming home was always supposed to feel like.

He hums a little tune to himself as he walks, a slight bounce to his steps.

“Something smells good,” he says as he rounds the corner, finding you curled up on the couch under a blanket.

Cute.

On the table across from you is a neat little stack of glass containers full of food. He cocks his head, pausing to pick one up for inspection. “You meal planning out here or something?”

You slip out from under the throw and stand. Something is… off. He hears you picking your nails before he even looks at you, and when he does meet your gaze, there’s a subtle apprehension you’re clearly trying to mask with a cordial smile.

“It’s just leftovers from lunch,” you say, eyes flickering from the container of food back to him. “How was work?”

“The usual,” he says a little curtly. Due to your unusual demeanor, he’s forgotten the laundry list of complaints he’d saved up at work with the intention of sharing with you. 

In his experience, it’s rarely a good thing when people suddenly start behaving differently.

Especially when they try to hide it.

“Something wrong?” He asks, giving the penthouse a cursory sweep. Everything looks to be in order.

Your eyes widen a fraction, but you catch yourself from looking overly surprised at being caught.

Got’cha, he thinks. He’s spent his entire life reading the subtleties in people’s body language, seeking out ways to understand the things they say when they’re not speaking. The things they won’t say. Particularly to him.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to… I want to ask you for something,” you say, hands falling to your sides, your spine straightening.

His brows lift, his curiosity piqued. “Sure. Fire away.”

You’ve been here for days, but you haven’t made any requests of him despite his numerous offers. There isn’t a thing in this world he couldn’t obtain for you. Hell, he doesn’t even care if it’s legal. It’s about time you took him up on a little self-indulgence.

“Do you remember my friend John?”

His head gives a sharp little tic of a turn, his brows furrowing.

John.

He hates the effect hearing you say that name continues to have on him. It isn’t as though he has a meltdown every time he hears the name John. That would be pathetic. It’s the most common name in America, for fucks sake. 

However, there’s something particularly vile about hearing you say it with such gentleness.

“What about him?” He asks flatly, hackles rising. He was hoping you’d ask for something fun.

“I’m worried about him,” you say, clearly fighting to keep your tone even. Your fingers curl into the fabric of your pants. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so nervous. It makes him suspicious.  “And I don’t want him to worry about me. We’ve had a routine for months. So I thought–”

“Oh,” Homelander interrupts, setting the container of food back down as understanding dawns. 

They’re scraps for your stray pet. 

“No problem, I’ll have someone take this to him,” he says, gesturing encompassingly towards the food. 

“No,” you say, the firmness in your voice catching him off guard. “I want you to take me, and I want to give it to him myself.”

He bristles, needles of suspicion creeping further up his spine. “Why?”

Though you’re quick to swallow it back, he doesn’t miss the flash of frustration in your eyes.

“You said you’d take me anywhere I wanted to go. Were you lying?”

He lifts his hand sharply enough to make you flinch, his index finger pointing only inches from your face.

“Don’t you ever call me a liar,” he says slowly, fist curled so tightly that the leather of his gloves groans in protest. “I didn’t say no, I asked you why.”

Your eyes are wide, your heart drumming loudly in his ears. He hates that look of fear, the look that tells him you’re waiting for him to hurt you when he’s never done anything of the sort.

You have no right to look at him like that.

“Because I want to. I want to see him, and make sure he’s okay, and because… because I want–” You stop mid sentence and break eye contact, pressing the back of your hand to your opposite cheek. You take in a slow breath to compose yourself. 

With a start, he realizes your eyes are welling with tears.

“I want to say goodbye.”

At a loss, Homelander stares for a long moment. For the life of him, he cannot fathom how this little charity schtick could possibly be so important to you. Isn’t he enough for you?

You’ve been spending your days carefree in domestic bliss, yet here you are crying because you aren’t taking a box of food to some bum. It’s baffling enough to give him a migraine.

On the other hand, it was that persistent nurturing that drew his eye to you. If not for your diligent care, he may not have seen the same potential in you. He likes that you care. He just wants you to care for him.

He lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Don’t cry,” he says, voice full of his exasperated bewilderment. He lifts both hands in a placating show of surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll take you, and you can do whatever it is you need to do.”

“Thank you,” you practically sigh. Your hand drops from your face and you look at him with palpable relief, your lips spreading into a faint smile. He likes your smiles. He likes being the reason for your smiles. That, at least, comes as a slight boon.

He clicks his tongue, observing you for a moment before he blows out a raspberry. He cups either side of your face, stepping in close to you.

“I hate it when you make me take a tone with you, you know,” he says, brushing the tip of your nose with his. Your breath catches. “You should know by now that I can’t say no to you.”

His thumb strokes your cheek. He’s been gentlemanly in your time here, accepting of your hand in his, your lips on his cheek. When he wakes up hard as a rock with your body pressed to his, he’s taken care of himself in the bathroom. Frankly he’s been more than a gentleman; he’s been a fucking saint.

“I’m downright pussy whipped, and I haven’t even gotten any yet,” he huffs through a little laugh, almost close enough to taste your lips. 

He hasn’t felt your lips on his since that night in your apartment. He wants them exactly as they had been. Pliant and without tension or fear, yet still you tense as he holds you close. You place your hands on his chest and though you don’t push him away, they’re braced to prevent him moving closer.

There’s a faint tremble running through you.

“Don’t tell me you’re still scared of me,” he says, offering you the sharp edge of a smile. He means for the words to sound playful, but even he can’t deny that there’s an underlying ache. Insecurity and impatience in equal measure.

Can’t you see how good he’s been for you? He’s had enough of having to beg for and pry every scrap of affection in his life from reluctant hands. All he wants is��for once in his life–to be freely offered tenderness.

“Your strength scares me,” you eventually admit, palms flat against his chest, stare focused on the backs of your hands.

He tips your head back, coaxing your downcast gaze up to meet his. The closeness of you makes your eyes look large and deer-like: a prey animal that recognizes its hunter. 

“It’s unreal, I feel like I’m not…I feel like I’m made of glass when you touch me.”

As a boy he snapped bones as easily as other children snapped twigs. He cradles your skull knowing exactly how much force it would take to crack it. 

You’re right to feel the extent of your own fragility in his hands.

“I won’t break you,” he says, the words little more than a breath.

“Do you promise?” you ask, your own voice barely a whisper.

“I promise.”  

All those that have come before you have taught him his limitations. And yours.

With that, the tension in your arms softens a fraction. He takes a mile from the inch you give, moving to encircle you in his arms. You slide your hands up his chest in turn, moving over his shoulders, around his neck. The way your fingertips settle on the nape of his neck feels like heaven.

Pressing his forehead to yours, he closes his eyes. He listens to the tempo of your heart gradually slow, settling like the wings of a bird finally accepting the safety and kindness of its cage.

Just then, ever so slightly, you tilt your head and lightly press your petal-soft lips to his. The shock of it knocks the wind from his lungs. Joy hits swiftly afterwards, sweeping through his body from his head to his toes. He kisses you in kind, his lips spread in a smile against yours. 

This–more than any kill or record breaking profit for Vought–feels like a victory.

He cups the back of your head as he savors you, branding the memory of your yielding lips against his into his mind. You move to pull back, but his yearning is a beast he cannot tame, and it’s the beast in him that holds you still, intent to relish the kiss just a second more, which becomes just a moment more.

Trapped, you slide your fingers up into his hairline, combing through his sheared undercut into the longer blonde locks. You send a jolt through him when your fingers tighten suddenly, pulling his hair taut between them. 

The sensation shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. His stomach flips, suddenly aflutter with butterflies. He makes a noise against your mouth, which regrettably makes you stop, your fingers going slack in his hair.

It doesn’t hurt–you don’t have the strength necessary to hurt him–but he can still feel it, and it feeds a gnawing hunger in him to be made to feel anything at all. 

“Do that again,” he says between fervent presses of his lips. “Feels good.”

To his delight you slip both hands into his hair and grip it, eliciting a low moan.

Fuck.

He could get lost in this. In you.

Your pulse has kicked back up, but so has his. Your heartbeats dance with one another as you kiss, drowning out the rest of the world. He moves from your lips to your jaw, your throat, peppering hungry kisses down your neck, ignoring the tension he can feel building back up in you.

He could make your whole body sing if you’d just let him.

Your hands move from his hair, pressing once more to his chest. With how weak you are, it takes him a beat to realize you’re actually pushing against him.

An impatient little growl escapes him. He holds you in place, too deep into it to let you go now.

You suck in a shuddering breath, pushing harder. “Homelander–”

His teeth graze your pulse point, and his tongue presses in to taste the rapid flutter of it. The taste of you is intoxicating, your skin salty-sweet.

Do you know his taste yet? Do you crave it the way he craves yours?

There’s fear in you but there’s desire there, too. He can feel it in the way your skin warms under his touch, hear it in the quiver of your breath, and smell it in the heat between your legs. 

“Wait, wait, just–would you just wait–” 

He exhales roughly and pulls sharply back, leveling you with a harsh stare.

“What? What! You kissed me, remember? So which is it; do you want me, or do you just want to be a fucking tease?”

He feels his desire like a longstanding hunger he’s only just become aware of. A painful, gnawing thing that demands he sink in his claws and rip, devour, relish. He’s been so good in all of this that one little taste was all it took for the feel of it to come crashing down on him.

For as badly as he wants you, he wants so fucking badly for you to want him, too.

The look of you is one for the history books. Flushed and wide-eyed, you’ve taken his words with a shock like you’ve been slapped. Your hair is mussed from his hand pushing against it, into it. Your lips are kiss bitten and shiny, plump with all that blood rushing to the surface.

It makes him want to bite them, bruise them, claim them. 

Those same lips open and close as you struggle to form a response before eventually settling on one.

“I’m sorry.”

He recoils from that, features twisting up in displeasure. 

No, no, no.

“I’m sorry, I just–”

“Shut up,” he snaps, letting go of you. He screws his eyes shut, not understanding how he got from where he was a moment ago to where he is now. 

All that sweet delicious heat is fading away, leaving him feeling emptier by the second, his skin prickling uncomfortably under his suit. 

He would be clawing at it if he could.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” he says, hitting the word like a hiss. “I want you to–I want you–”

I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you.I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you.

He pushes his hands into his hair, gripping the short strands tight enough to ache, digging for pain so that it might bring him clarity and stop the terrible repetition his mind has latched onto. He can imagine so clearly how things should be, what you should be saying, feeling, and I’m sorry is nowhere in that vision.

He hates that word. It echoes in his psyche like a curse, dragging him back by the throat to the only stretch of time in his life he ever felt weak enough to say it.

Back then, in his days in the lab, Vought was always testing the boundaries of how human he really was. At one point, when he was still a boy–maybe eleven or twelve–they began to reduce his sleep by an hour every few nights.

Each day they would repeat the same grueling tests to see at what point the lack began to affect not only his cognitive abilities, but his powers. Given the sheer amount of Compound V in his system, there were some who wondered if he really needed to sleep at all.

It would have been miraculous if he didn’t. It would be one more aspect of his perfect design that they could pat themselves on the back for. 

Unfortunately for both him and them, it was not so.

When they realized the deprivation did affect him, they wanted to understand how badly. They continued to deprive him until they had reduced his sleep to nothing at all, keeping him awake by any means necessary for days. He begged for sleep. 

It’s a marathon, John, Vogelbaum told him. Eleven days. That’s the record for a human. You can beat that, can’t’cha, tiger?

Tiger. It always made him feel stronger when Jonah called him that.

Ultimately it was less about his perseverance and more about his endurance. He didn’t have much choice in the matter of whether or not he would fall asleep. 

Every time he started to doze off, an alarm would blare in his room, startling him back awake. 

I’m sorry, he would sob, riddled with guilt for the failure.

There was never any answer.

When it was over and neither he nor the scientists had anything to show for it–nothing but misery and a newfound insomnia–he decided he would never be sorry for anything ever again.

His temples are throbbing, his skull aching from the pressure of his own strength. 

Though his eyes are tightly shut, he can feel the searing heat of his laser vision pressing against his eyelids. 

It makes him want to scream, to run, to fly, to break apart everything around him, but he can’t. He’s too powerful to ever allow himself a physical outlet.

When the average man throws a punch to blow off steam, at worst they’ll put a hole in the wall.

Homelander could punch through to the core of the planet. 

Maybe he could split the whole damn thing in half. He’s never been allowed to find out.

Instead, he focuses it all inward. He swallows the feelings like bile and fights not to choke on it, on the tension of his own impossible power straining his muscles. He can’t hear your heartbeat anymore, it’s drowned out by his own blood rushing in his ears.

Or it’s not there at all.

You’ve fled, he realizes. His stomach churns, and still his mind is on a punishing loop of all the things he has ever wanted that he cannot accept he’ll never have. 

I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want.

Anger surges through him and the heat of it is painful, twisting all his already tautly wrung innards and flushing them with fiery rage.

She’s not sorry. She has no idea the fucking meaning of it. If she wants to know what it’s like to be sorry, then we’ll–

Arms slip around his neck, and suddenly his mind hits a deafening quiet.

What?

The feeling is so alien to him that it takes several seconds to understand that it’s you. That you’re here. That you’re… holding him.

Faintly he feels the tug of your meager strength, and he leans into it, his cheek coming to rest on your chest, head tucked under your chin.

He opens his eyes, the world still awash in the crimson glow of his lasers, and he feels you flinch at the sheer heat of them. He works to blink the light away, his hands resting on your hips, gripping at the fabric of your pants.

“You’re still here,” he says, voice frayed with confusion and steadily ebbing tension. 

“Yes.”

“I thought I was alone.”

“You’re not.”

Gently, you comb your fingers through his hair. He doesn’t need his super senses to know your heart is pounding. He can feel the hammering pulse of it against his cheek.

Your fear is so tangible he can practically taste it, but he wouldn’t know it existed at all if he went only on the way you’re holding him.

How is it you can be so afraid and yet feel so firm against him?

“It’s okay,” you whisper, a faint tremble in your otherwise firm voice. “You’re not alone.”

Tears sting his eyes. He moves his grip from your hip to the fabric at your back, your shoulder, his hands climbing your clothes with a clawing desperation to ensure every bit of you is real and within his reach. He envelops you in his arms and nuzzles you, exhaling another breath of the terrible miasma that had built up like sulfur in his lungs.

You move your other hand in soothing patterns between his shoulder blades–just as you had before–and with every repetition of the pattern he feels the rage, the pain, the fear, the misery of it all drip away, like a wet cloth being wrung dry.

The two of you stand like that for a long while, focused only on the sound and feel of the other. The burn in the back of his throat and in his eyes fades. By the end of it, he feels heavy with the exhaustion of holding back the weight of his own might.

Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze. You’re somehow even more beautiful than you had been. Your edges are frayed, and though there is lingering fear, it doesn’t repulse him to see it.

Because you stayed.

Your fingers slip from his hair, moving to his face. It isn’t until your thumb moves through the wetness on his cheek that he realizes a tear had escaped the burn of his lasers and streaked down his face.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” you tell him, and to his own pleasure, he believes you.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I know you didn’t,” he says, cupping your face in turn. He brings you forward and presses a firm lingering kiss to your forehead. 

He’s in control again, and he speaks as if that were always true.

“Just like I know you’ll make it up to me.”

He draws away with a crooked smile, the episode fading to a distant corner of his mind as he puts the fractured pieces of himself back into something cohesive. He strokes your cheek, admiring your features. Your eyes.

In hindsight, it’s strange to think that he’s always thought of you as the sweet, doting little rabbit to his wolf. 

Staring at you now, he’s sure he’s looking into the eyes of a fox. 

“C’mon,” he says, siding his hands down your shoulders so that he can take hold of your wrists, guiding you towards the balcony. “It’s about time I take you for that flight I promised.”

Wouldn’t want to keep John waiting for his meal any longer.

( chapter seven )

[pomefioredove]

Just read the whole "Yuu gets sold off by Crowley" stories and OMLLL THEYRE SO GOOD XDDD Any chance you could do more on it like if Niege won or if the parents heard about it and also decided to adopt Yuu and Grim?? Maybe the other staff adopting her too or more on Crewel's adoption please???

requests for the crewel ending are in high demand I see...

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | 'bad' ending | RSA ending

summary: a crewel ending type of post: short fic, mostly speculation characters: crewel ft. other staff additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, definitely pre-book seven, parents being cringe

If Crewel were allowed to beat Crowley to death with one of his designer handbags, he would have.

...Unfortunately, with the adoption paperwork fees (...and a need for more designer handbags), he regrettably still needs this job.

And he'd like to keep an eye on you while you're still here, too.

The animosity between Crowley and the rest of the staff is unspoken, shared through passing glances and dry remarks at meetings, and though the matter is "settled", in Crowley's own words, no one seems keen on letting it go anytime soon.

The students who participated in the bidding war are subject to months worth of extra homework, harder exams, and worse studying hours from Crewel himself. To teach them a little responsibility, he says.

You, at least, are exempt from his radical new lesson plan. You have enough on your plate as it is.

After all, as soon as the legal proceedings are through and your identity as an autonomous human being in Twisted Wonderland is secured, the "fun" begins.

Your uniforms are tailored and rightly fit, you're given a proper meal plan, even Ramshackle is decorated with a few of Crewel's personal touches. A throw rug here and there, a fresh coat of paint, anything to cover up the rotting interior and turning it into something worthy of envy.

"...Given that Grim doesn't start shedding everywhere," Crewel had said. "Ugh, pets."

The rest of the staff are just as helpful, citing your recent experience with the bidding war as reason to take it easier on you for a while (or for the rest of the semester, really). Trein gives you less homework, Sam "accidentally" doesn't ring you up a few items...

It starts to feel more like the entirety of the staff has adopted you.

Not that you mind, of course. This is the closest thing you've had to family since... well, since coming here.

There's just the one thing, though.

"I don't know why you waste your time with those untrained pups. Honestly. The idea of their tacky shoes touching the rugs in here..." Crewel sighs. His eyes turn to you. "You know, I hear Vil Schoenheit has been looking for someone to take to his next shoot..."

Ashton chuffs. "Don't be ridiculous, they need someone who's strong enough to take care of them! Kingscholar is a real star once he gets motivated,"

"Please tell me I didn't just hear that," Crewel massages his temples. "And might I add, I'm their father, not you. I give the blessing. You're more like the unwelcome uncle crashing the family barbeque."

Grim nudges you with his elbow, muttering a quick yikes before darting out of the kitchen. You groan in embarrassment. "Guys..."

"I'm just thinking about what's best for them," Ashton says, puffing out his chest. "They're at an age where they're going to start thinking about dating, and we want them to make good choices."

"Guys,"

"Exactly. Schoenheit is a perfect gentleman, a master in my class, and has the style to back him up. Kingscholar can demonstrate occasional intelligence, but he's still another housecat," he shudders. "The shedding..."

A tired voice from the doorway interrupts their tense back-and-forth, much to your relief.

"Goodness, the two of you, at this again?" Trein scoffs, taking a seat at the table. "This conversation is highly inappropriate. You shouldn't be controlling the poor thing's romantic prospects, if they even have them. When the time comes, the choice will be theirs to make."

Crewel huffs, rolling his eyes and leaning against the table. Ashton kicks his feet. And neither utter another word.

"Good," Trein says, then clears his throat. "Ahem. But that's not to say that we can't offer our guidance. That Vanrouge did quite well on the last History of Magic exam..."

You groan.

[buckets-and-trees]

Chosen, Part 2: Lunch

Characters/Pairings: eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers Word Count: 3.2k Summary: Your day transitions from the morning tour of the interior of the Winged Heritage Foundation's estate to the grounds, followed by lunch with Natasha and Steve. You get to openly ask more questions, but the experience revealing and concealing information in turns.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting

CHAPTER Content Warnings: none

Notes: No real notes here... we're still slow-burning the plot in this part.

Previous: Arrival

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You emerge from the elevator back into the ornate splendor of the mansion's main floor, and you find yourself blinking at the abrupt transition. The juxtaposition between the futuristic underground facilities and the classical elegance above ground is jarring, to say the least.

Natasha leads you down another corridor, this one adorned with intricate tapestries depicting mythological scenes. You catch glimpses of winged creatures, celestial bodies, and figures that seem to dance between worlds.

"These tapestries are some of our most prized possessions," Natasha explains, noticing your interest. "They're said to contain hidden messages and prophecies, though their true meaning has been lost to time."

You nod, captivated by the intricate designs.

As you follow Natasha down the corridor, your eyes are drawn to one tapestry in particular. It depicts a winged figure surrounded by swirling cosmic patterns, with what appears to be a full moon prominently featured. The figure’s face is obscured, but the shrouded beauty is alluring. Studying it sends a shiver down your spine, though you can't quite put your finger on why.

"That one always catches people's attention," Natasha says, noticing your gaze. "It's said to represent our founder, though of course, that's just speculation."

You're about to ask for more details when Natasha smoothly changes the subject, guiding you towards a set of French doors that open onto a stunning terrace.

Outside, the warm sunlight caresses your skin, and a gentle breeze carries the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The gardens below are a masterpiece of landscape design, with winding paths, vibrant flowerbeds, and perfectly trimmed hedges creating intricate patterns.

"This is where we hold our outdoor events," Natasha explains, gesturing to the expansive space. "It's particularly beautiful under the moonlight."

You can't help but notice how she emphasizes the word 'moonlight', her green eyes flashing with something you can't quite decipher. Before you can dwell on it, she's moving on, leading you down a set of stone steps into the garden itself, the sweet fragrance of roses and jasmine enveloping you. The path winds through the manicured hedges and flowerbeds, and Natasha guides you past a bubbling fountain adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures.

"Our gardens are more than just aesthetically pleasing," Natasha explains as you walk. "Many of the plants here have been cultivated for their unique properties. Some are quite rare, others are thought to be extinct in the wild."

You pause beside a bed of flowers you've never seen before - their petals are an iridescent blue that seem to shimmer and change hue as you move.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Natasha says, noticing your fascination. "These are known as Luna's Tears. They only bloom during the time of the full moon."

You lean in closer, marveling at the otherworldly beauty of the Luna's Tears. Their iridescent petals seem to pulse with an inner light, drawing you in. For a moment, you feel almost dizzy, as if the flowers are pulling you into their shimmering depths.

Natasha's hand on your shoulder breaks the spell. "Careful," she says softly. "They can be a bit overwhelming for some people."

You straighten up, blinking rapidly to clear your head. "They're amazing," you murmur. "I've never seen anything like them."

"They're just one of many unique specimens we cultivate here," Natasha says, guiding you away from the flower bed. "Our botanical research is quite extensive."

You can't help but notice a pattern emerging. The moon seems to be a recurring motif - in the tapestries and artwork, in Natasha's comments, and now these flowers. You wonder if there's some significance to it that you're missing.

"The full moon must be a special time here," you remark casually, hoping to probe for more information.

Natasha's eyes gleam with something that might be approval. "It is," she says. "The lunar cycle plays a significant role in many of our endeavors."

She doesn't elaborate further, instead guiding you deeper into the gardens. You pass by herb gardens filled with plants you recognize and many you don't, each section meticulously labeled and cared for.

As you round a corner, you come face to face with the entrance to a massive hedge maze. Its guarded by the statues of two wolves, their stone eyes seeming to follow you as you approach.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Natasha says, a hint of pride in her voice. "The maze is one of our most beloved features. It's said that those who reach the center will find enlightenment."

“And is the saying true?”

She arches an eyebrow at you. “Maybe you’ll have the chance to find out.”

It’s just the kind of coy answer you’ve come to expect now.

You peer into the maze, trying to gauge its size. The hedges tower over you, their dense foliage creating an impenetrable green wall. "How big is it?" you ask, unable to hide your curiosity.

Natasha's lips curl into a mysterious smile. "Bigger than it looks from the outside. Some say it changes, growing and shifting when no one's watching. But that's just a story, of course."

Standing there, contemplating the maze, a strange sensation washes over you. For a brief moment, you could swear you hear faint whispers coming from within the leafy walls, beckoning you to enter. You shake your head, attributing it to your imagination running wild after all the wonders you've seen today.

Natasha gently touches your elbow, drawing your attention away from the maze. "Perhaps we'll have time for you to explore it later," she says with a knowing smile. "For now, we should head back. It's nearly time for lunch."

As you follow her back towards the mansion, you can't shake the feeling that someone is watching you, but looking around, you don’t see anyone.

After the trek back to the mansion, the two of you ascend the steps back to the terrace, where you're greeted by yet another impressive sight that almost takes your breath away.

An elegant table has been set for three. Crystal glasses catch the light, and there’s a centerpiece of stunning white hydrangeas. Silver cutlery is arranged with military precision, flanking fine china plates adorned with delicate, hand-painted floral designs.

Steve Rogers stands beside the table, his imposing figure softened by the warm smile that lights up his face as you approach.

"Welcome back," he says, his voice warm and rich. "Did you enjoy our grounds?”

"They’re absolutely stunning," you confess easily, still a bit awestruck by everything you've seen. "I've never experienced anything quite like it."

Steve's smile broadens. "We're quite proud of our little kingdom here. Please, have a seat." He pulls out a chair for you, ever the gentleman.

As you settle into your spot, a waiter seemingly materializes out of thin air, pouring water into your crystal glass with precision. The cool liquid is a welcome relief after your walk through the gardens. In the moment, it tastes better than any glass of water you feel like you’ve had in your life, but you know that’s unrealistic, only an exaggeration of your mind and your thirst.

Natasha takes her seat across from you, while Steve sits at the head of the table. There's a moment of comfortable silence as you all arrange your napkins and take in the breathtaking view of the gardens stretching out before you.

"So," Steve begins, his blue eyes twinkling with interest, "what do you think of the Foundation so far? I hope Natasha hasn't overwhelmed you with too much information."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, acutely aware of their attention on you. "It's been enthralling," you say, trying to find the right words. You have been shown so much, and yet you also feel as if you still don’t know why the Winged Heritage Foundation exists or what it does. "The facilities are unlike anything I've ever seen. The blend of historical preservation and cutting-edge technology is fascinating. I feel like I've only scratched the surface of what goes on here."

Steve nods approvingly. "That's exactly what we strive for here. A perfect balance between honoring the past and pushing the boundaries of the future."

As he speaks, the waiter returns, this time bearing a tray of appetizers. The dishes are works of art in themselves - delicate arrangements of colorful vegetables, artisanal cheeses, and what appears to be some kind of smoked meat.

"Please, enjoy," Natasha says, gesturing to the food. "Our chef takes great pride in using ingredients from our own gardens."

You sample the appetizers, savoring the explosion of flavors on your tongue. The vegetables are impossibly fresh, the cheese rich and complex, and the smoked meat has a depth of flavor you've never experienced before. As you eat, Steve and Natasha engage you in light conversation, asking about more about your background and interests. But as you get to the end of the appetizer course, Steve brings it back around to business.

"So, what drew you to apply to the Winged Heritage Foundation initially?" Steve asks, his tone casual but his gaze intent.

You take a sip of water, considering your answer. "To be honest, I didn’t know much before I applied - the little I knew was the Foundation's emerging reputation for excellence and I was looking for a next step with an organization that I could take pride in being a part of. The more I learn, the more fascinated I become by the scope and depth of your work here."

Natasha nods approvingly. "What aspects have you found most intriguing so far?"

You hesitate for a moment, then decide to voice the questions that have been eating away at you.

"Well," you begin, choosing your words carefully, "I've been amazed by everything I've seen today. But I have to admit, I'm still a bit unclear on the Foundation's core mission. There seems to be such a wide range of activities happening here. What exactly is the mission of the Winged Heritage Foundation?"

Steve and Natasha exchange a look, a silent communication passing between them. Steve leans forward slightly, his expression serious but not unkind.

"That's an excellent question," he says. "And I appreciate your honesty. The truth is, the full scope of our work is… complex. We operate on many levels, some of which aren't immediately apparent."

Natasha picks up where he left off. "Think of us as guardians," she says, her green eyes intense. "We preserve history, yes, but we believe that to truly understand and preserve our heritage, we need to approach it from many angles."

Steve picks up the thread smoothly. "Our founder had a vision of an organization that could bridge the gap between the past and the future. We study history not just to preserve it, but to learn from it and apply those lessons to the problems at hand.”

You nod slowly, taking in their words. "So, the research I saw downstairs, the artifacts, the gardens - they're all part of this larger mission?"

"Exactly," Steve says with an approving smile. "We use cutting-edge tools to analyze artifacts and historical data in ways that weren't possible before. But it goes beyond that. Some of our research involves… let's say, rediscovering lost knowledge. Everything here serves a purpose."

As he speaks, the waiter returns with the main course - a beautifully presented plate of what appears to be roasted game hen with seasonal vegetables. The aroma is mouthwatering.

Natasha forward in, her voice lowering slightly. "Throughout history, there have been technologies, practices, and knowledge that have been lost or hidden. We seek to uncover these secrets and understand how they might benefit us today.”

You feel a thrill of excitement at her words. The idea of uncovering lost knowledge is intriguing, but you can't shake the feeling they’re withholding something.

"That sounds fascinating," you say carefully. "But I get the sense that there's more to it than that. The level of secrecy I've observed today seems to go beyond just historical research."

Steve and Natasha exchange another look, this one lasting a beat longer. You notice Steve's jaw tighten slightly before he responds.

"You're very perceptive," he says, his voice measured. "And you're right, there is more. But understand, the nature of our work requires discretion. Not everyone is ready for the truths we uncover."

"What we do here goes beyond conventional understanding,” Natasha adds. “The knowledge we seek, the artifacts we protect - they have the potential to reshape the world as we know it. That kind of power needs to be guarded carefully."

You feel a shiver run down your spine at her words. The implications of what Natasha is saying are both thrilling and slightly terrifying. You're about to ask for more details when Steve clears his throat.

"Perhaps we've said too much," he says, his tone gentle but firm. "Let's enjoy our meal, shall we? There will be time for more in-depth discussions later, if you're the right fit for us."

You nod, understanding the subtle warning to back off for now. As you turn your attention to the exquisite meal before you, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. What kind of organization have you stumbled into? And more importantly, what role do they envision for you in all of this?

The conversation shifts to lighter topics as you eat. Steve regales you with amusing anecdotes about life at the estate, while Natasha occasionally chimes in with a wry comment or clarification. You find yourself relaxing despite the lingering questions in your mind, drawn in by Steve's charisma and Natasha's subtle charm.

As the waiter clears away the main course dishes, Natasha leans back in her chair, fixing you with an appraising look. "You've handled yourself well today," she says. "Many candidates find the uniqueness of our organization overwhelming."

The waiter appears once again, this time bearing a tray of desserts that look too beautiful to eat. Delicate pastries, fresh berries, and what appears to be some sort of shimmering, iridescent pudding are arranged artfully on the plate. The interruption gives you room to consider Natasha’s observation without needing to immediately respond.

You take a moment to savor a bite of the exquisite dessert. The flavors dance on your tongue - sweet, tart, and something else you can't quite place. It's delicious, and there's an underlying complexity that leaves you wanting more.

"Thank you," you start, meeting Natasha's gaze. "I have to admit, it's been a lot to take in. But I find myself more intrigued than overwhelmed, even though there's clearly so much more to learn about the Foundation."

Steve nods approvingly. "That's a good sign. We need people who can adapt quickly and maintain their composure in the face of the unexpected."

As he speaks, you notice a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The air seems to thicken slightly, and you feel a strange tingling at the base of your skull. It feels like someone is studying you again, but with the feeling coming from behind, you don’t dare to turn and look in front of Steve and Natasha.

“After lunch, you have a series of meetings with a variety of members from our organization,” Natalie shifts the focus of the conversation. “And while I don’t want to encroach on our last bit of relaxed time here, I do want to ask if you’ve had a chance to thoroughly review the elements of our proposed compensation package.”

“Oh, yes, I-”

Steve cuts in. “She’s asking because we would like you to have a pretty clear idea of whether or not you see yourself accepting a position with the Foundation after your afternoon meetings.”

You open your mouth, but close it again, unsure of how to respond.

“We’re aware that it’s an unconventional ask, but we have a unique timeline we are hoping to facilitate today. If you accept a position with us, we are hoping to extend your stay with us through this evening. There’s an event tonight where you would see so much of the Foundation’s true purpose up close and personal.”

You take a deep breath, considering your response carefully. The compensation package had been incredibly generous - almost too good to be true. And while you still have many questions about the exact nature of the Foundation's work, you can't deny the allure of being part of something so mysterious and potentially world-changing.

"I appreciate your directness," you say, meeting both Steve and Natasha's gazes. "The compensation package is certainly attractive. And everything I've seen today has been fascinating. I'm very much interested in learning more and potentially accepting a position, but..."

You hesitate for a moment, then decide to be honest. "I still feel like there's so much I don't know about what I'd actually be doing here. It's hard to commit without a clearer understanding of the role I would play."

Steve nods, a look of understanding crossing his face. "That's fair. And I admire your caution. It speaks well of your judgment. But take the afternoon, really utilize the meetings, and we’ll see where you land after that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be on my way to my next meeting.” Steve stands, offering a warm smile. "It's been a pleasure dining with you. I look forward to hearing how the rest of your day unfolds."

As he leaves, you're left alone with Natasha. The air seems to crackle with unspoken tension.

Natasha leans forward, resting her folded arms on the table, her voice low and intimate. "I know it feels like we're asking a lot of you. But trust me when I say that what we do here is important. World-changing, even. And we believe you could play a crucial role in that."

Her green eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, you feel as if she's looking right into your soul. There's an intensity to her gaze that both unnerves and exhilarates you.

"The afternoon meetings should help you really get a bearing on our culture," she continues. "But I want you to know that I've been impressed with you today. Your curiosity, your adaptability, your willingness to question - these are all qualities we value highly here. You are just the kind of person we are looking for to fill the position."

Your chest couldn’t help but swell at her words - the esteem she expressed for you going to your head, shooting you into the stratosphere. You knew she was playing her cards in courting you as a candidate, and yet you also knew that she didn’t say anything she didn’t mean. The thought that you had won her over, that she favored you for this position? It felt damn good to have that satisfaction surging through your blood.

“Thank you,” you finally say, a beat later. You take a deep breath and try to tamp down the adrenaline from this moment. Another sip of water helps bring you back to reality.

"Well," Natasha says, her voice silky smooth, "shall we move on to your afternoon meetings?"

You nod, rising from your seat, and follow Natasha back into the mansion.

NEXT PART: CONSIDERATION

I KNOW!

BUT THEY CAN'T TELL YOU MORE YET, OKAY?!

What do you think is going on here? What's in the maze? What are they researching? Why the horticulture? Is someone watching you - and who is it?

What's in that compensation package?

...

Will you get more info in the next installment?

Maybe.

Even if you don't, I can tell you that the pace starts to pick up more and you will be introduced to some interesting new characters.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[pluralsword]

as far as Elita One's writing in One goes we think it's a bad sign that Elita's ability to pull chief of staff-esque leadership as second in command that OP could not possibly be present for all of and in fact needs a second person to handle since he has to be a generalist because of his position and he also needs to be kept out of the loop sometimes was something that was really only something one could infer from familiarity with Elita's previous appearance in media and possibly knowledge of how executive leadership works is generally a bad sign. The movie needed another 30 minutes to effectively show Elita is supposed to be the Russell Jackson or Jay Whitman to Presidents Dalton or McCord, or Commander Susan Ivanova or Elizabeth Lockley to Commander Sinclair or President Sheridan.

we didn't have that, so it's very easy to come away from the movie thinking Elita is being depicted as a more competent leader not so fun gal (even though she is shown to be fun) deferring to a recklessly creative dreamer Optimus Prime. We don't really get to see her advise him on policy except the time she defers to him, keep him from getting entangled in things that will kill him. we do get to see her take the lead on handling the Decepticons to make sure they follow through with the revoluton, but we don't get to see her lead a group of Autobots on her own. so it just. as much as we enjoyed One we felt like this and her not having another gal on her side to talk to who had a major role was one of the major points of the movie that could have been better. Arcee could have been given a larger role but that would have required more introspection on who Arcee is than the film was perhaps prepared to do (the visual artists sure seemed to understand what with the arcee design convergence they went for, and it would have been nice for that to be followed up on)

like. legit I think the only reason our immediate family we saw this with wasn't discussing the gender dynamics of the film (besides them asking where was Arcee in the film LMAO) was because we all had outside of film information from study about how government and revolutions work to fill in. we think we get what the movie was going for but Elita needed more interiority. So did Solus and Arcee. And Airachnid, frankly. What was her motive in any of this? Will we find out in a sequel?

The movie's main theme is bodily autonomy, which we loved! It was great! This is one of our favorite films, period, of anything! But that doesn't mean we think there wasn't room to improve. All art is like that, though, so please don't take this as a 'you can't enjoy TF One because trans feminism' and more as 'it would be nice to see more stories in the future that go deeper in the stories of fem-spectrum characters and gender expansive people when navigating this subject in science fiction, and especially when said characters are transforming alien robots. it would be nice to have a written as transfem character in a film you really need only ask a transfem to look over what you're doing and get one to voice one but godsdamn it would be cool if one was given a shot at writing' you get the idea

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 19-- Healing

SE Saeran reflects on his healing journey on a visit to your favorite museum (788 words).

A year ago, Saeran would never have been able to do anything like this. It would surely have upset him too much to be confined on all sides in this kind of space— a museum would only have reminded him of his guilt, the marble floors too similar to Magenta’s and the old photographs on the walls too similar to V’s. But he’s made strides with his therapist since then, and he’s excited to be joining you for an afternoon alone together at your favorite place. 

“I love big buildings like this,” you admit, “Especially if the lighting is bad.”

“That’s a joke,” Saeran observes, not laughing. Sometimes, the strange things you say are funny to him. Other times, not so much. Either way, he won’t lie to you about how he feels.

“No, I really like places like this,” you assure him, fiddling with your wristband. “Is yours too tight? I haven’t been here in a while. Last time I went, they were doing ticket stubs, not wristbands. I didn't know they were gonna give us these, honestly, otherwise I would’ve—”

“It’s fine,” says Saeran, because it is. True, the pressure on his wrists isn’t something he’s experienced since he wore stacked leather bracelets as Unknown, but he’s easily able to separate this experience from that one. He’d be hard-pressed to convince himself that he’s back at Magenta when you’re here by his side, and it’s difficult to believe that he’s a monster when you’re so gleefully walking in step with him. 

“Okay.” You grab two maps, one for yourself and one for Saeran. It’s these simple gestures in consideration of his autonomy which make it clear to Saeran exactly how safe he is with you. It’s not just that you look out for him, it’s that you do it without thinking. “Where to first? My favorite is the Ancient Egyptian wing— there’s no live mummies there, unfortunately, but they have a couple masks, some statues, and one pretty cool coffin.”

“Maybe another time,” Saeran is okay hearing the word ‘coffin,’ but having never seen one in person, he’s not sure how he’d respond. “Sorry. And aren’t mummies dead? So there wouldn’t be live mummies.”

“For now,” you reply with mock solemnity.

Saeran can’t help but snort at that while he studies the map. “What’s this furniture collection?”

“Oh,” you nod, “Yeah, that’s with the Korean art. Basically, a bunch of antique cabinets and stuff. A lot of them are really interesting because they’re made with persimmon wood, so the grain naturally makes super cool patterns. If you like dark wood, you’ll love it.”

Saeran wrinkles his nose. “I don’t think about wood colors.”

“What?” you grin, “Saeyoung explicitly told me that he was giving you culture. He didn’t say anything about interior design?” You’re joking, of course. If Saeyoung had said anything about interior design, he probably would’ve launched into such lectures as How Much Checkerboard Print is Too Much Checkerboard Print? (Trick Question) and The Artful Placement of Chip Dust, Crumbs, and Decommissioned Traffic Lights.

Saeran smirks. “He made me watch those superhero movies.” 

“Oh,” you seem to consider this. “Did you like them?”

Saeran shrugs. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay, good. Correct opinion,” you nod solemnly, in yet another attempt to make Saeran laugh. “I’m just kidding. I don’t care what kinds of movies other people watch. Or what their interior design preferences are— although, last time I came over, your brother had clothes all over the floor, and he told me they were decorative, which I do take issue with.” When you try so hard, you can be a little bit awkward, but Saeran doesn’t mind. He enjoys your company.

“Hm,” Saeran confirms his understanding. “I got rid of those.” 

You snort, but elect not to take the subject any further. “Well, anyway, here’s my plan, and you can take it or leave it,” you pivot, “I say we come through here and look at the furniture and whatever else you want to see, then we loop through the rest of the museum like this.” You trace your finger across the map, showing a path through blocks of color, presumably representing different exhibits. “And then if we come back again, we could do the south wing, since we probably won’t have time to see that part today. Thoughts?"

“Okay,” says Saeran. He trusts you, after all. “Let’s go,” he decides, reaching for your hand. It’s a good day for him, and he’s feeling comfortable with that level of contact.

“Let’s go,” you agree, accepting his hand and leading him into the museum. Saeran can’t believe how easy and natural all of this feels. He really has come a long way since leaving Magenta.

[fanhackers]

How To Be Gay, by David M. Halperin

While there are obvious fan studies classics, there are other books that don’t always fall into the “fan studies” canon that I have found incredibly useful for my own thinking.  I cited one of them, Carol Dyhouse’s  Heartthrobs: A History of Women and Desire (2017), a few posts ago; another is David Halperin’s How To Be Gay (2012)

How To Be Gay came out of a course Halperin taught at the University of Michigan, whose full title was “How to Be Gay: Male Homosexuality and Initiation.”  The initiation in question was not sexual, but cultural:  Halperin believes that there are not only gay texts, a gay canon of sorts, but also gay ways of reading that are taught and learned and that help constitute something we might call a gay subjectivity (that you don’t have to be gay actually to have):  e.g. Hollywood movies, opera, Broadway musicals, camp, diva worship, drag, muscle culture, style, fashion, interior design. Halperin asked both why this set of things–why musicals? why this diva or that–and what do they tell us about gay experience? Halperin was trying to trace “gay men’s characteristic relation to mainstream culture,” which often involves collaborative and camp appropriation: a queering.

I find this book very useful, both because fandom also has its own shared languages and rites of initiation (consider the idea of watching something with fannish goggles or slash goggles or a fanfic lens, as was recently discussed in a previous post; think about all the languages and tropes and artistic structures we all learn from each other) but also because Halperin talks about modes of identification that aren’t representational or based obviously in identity politics. So, for example, he says that the gay male students in his class were more likely to express themselves vis a vis a shared text like  The Golden Girls than vis a vis the traditions of what Halperin calls “good gay writing.” There is, Halperin argues, a queer pleasure in the Broadway musical that’s different than the pleasures of gay identity or even gay sex; similarly, queer female fans might find pleasures in identifying with, say, Sherlock, Crowley, or Blackbeard that are very different from the pleasures offered by a woman- or lesbian-centered text. 

Here’s an excerpt that gives a good sense of the book, I think: fans might identify with this or recognize it as descriptive of their own fannish feels.  (FWIW, the italics are all his!)

[H]omosexuality is not just a sexual orientation but a cultural orientation, a dedicated commitment to certain social or aesthetic values, an entire way of being.  That distinctively gay way of being, moreover, appears to be rooted in a particular queer way of feeling. And that queer way of feeling—that queer subjectivity—expresses itself through a peculiar, dissident way of relating to cultural objects (movies, songs, clothes, books, works of art) and cultural forms in general (art and architecture, opera and musical theater, pop and disco, style and fashion, emotion and language). As a cultural practice, male homosexuality involves a characteristic way of receiving, reinterpreting, and reusing mainstream culture, of decoding and recoding the heterosexual or heteronormative meanings already encoded in that culture, so that they come to function as vehicles of gay or queer meaning. It consists, as the critic John Clum says, in “a shared alternative reading of mainstream culture.” As a result, certain figures who are already prominent in the mass media become gay icons: they get taken up by gay men with a peculiar intensity that differs from their wider reception in the straight world. (That practice is so marked, and so widely acknowledged, that the National Portrait Gallery in London could organize an entire exhibition around the theme of Gay Icons in 2009.) And certain cultural forms, such as Broadway musicals or Hollywood melodramas, are similarly invested with a particular power and significance, attracting a disproportionate number of gay male fans. What this implies is that it is not enough for a man to be homosexual in order to be gay. Same-sex desire alone does not equal gayness. In order to be gay, a man has to learn to relate to the world around him in a distinctive way.  (p. 12 - 13)

–Francesca Coppa, Fanhackers volunteer

[vivivox]

Theory about Virgo on the cusp and reading preferences 📚

There’s a theory I’d like to test ..

📚♍️ Theory

the House where you have Virgo on the cusp shows what kind of things you like to read (about)

EDIT: in combination with your Mercury and 3rd House (sign, house, aspects)

Examples:

1 - self-development, self-help, (auto)biographies, character studies, personality systems, memoirs

2 - how to make money, gaining resources, gardening, cooking/food, beauty, DIY, real estate, health, nature, re-cycling and upcylcing, home interior, design and arts

3 - comics, humor, short stories, subject literature,… for dummies, linguistics, skill learning

4 - history, family sagas, heritage, children’s books, novels, gardening/cooking, real estate, fairy tales & fables, memoirs

5 - comics, humor, satire, dating advice, children’s books

6 - work-related things, health, routine, cleaning, self-help, skill learning

7 - romance, relationship books, dating advice

8 - psychology, self-discovery, self-help, spirituality, occultism/wicca, mystery, fantasy, crime, thriller, horror

9 - philosophy, ethics, law, religion, cultures and languages, scientific papers, history

10 - news/newspaper, career, business, politics things that help with career like scientific articles, society, history

11 - utopia/dystopia, society, social criticism, computer science, blogs, online articles, alien/ paranormal stuff

12 - fantasy, god, nature, religion, spirituality, utopia, novels, poetry, love and romance, books set in other worlds or other eras , books about past lives, dreams or time travel

➡️ So I have Virgo at the cusp of my 8th House and I do like to read about psychology, spirituality, the occult and I loved reading fantasy as a child (still do)

I think the Mercury sign, house placements and aspects will be another indicator for what and if someone likes to read, as well as the third house (to some extent).

Personal example about Mercury:

- Mercury trine Jupiter → I like to read (and write) in foreign languages, especially English

- Mercury bi-septile Neptune and Uranus → I like to read fantasy and supranormal things

Personal example about 3rd House:

- Sun, Mercury and Venus in 3rd House → I love (Venus) writing & reading, it’s one of my talents (Sun, Mercury) and part of my personality (Sun)

📚 What’s your Virgo House and what do you like to read about?

Would love your comments as well as your answers on the poll!

[bluespiderlully]

KNY - Dark Academia AU

- - - Studying - - -

Since I posted all the moodboards and I showed my characters' aestethic I feel my conscience is clear and I can talk about everything else this AU concerns.

In the first post of this series I said that magic is something you study more for prestige than for practical use, so usually people study something else too, and in this post I'll talk about this topic.

You start studying something else when you turn 18 (or when you're in your fourth year if you were rejected, of course), so this means Muichiro and Rei don't study anything else yet, but they're already thinking about what they want or don't want to do, for example Muichiro is 100% sure he wants to study translations and ancient languages. Rei spends a lot of time on taxidermy, she absolutely wants to study preservation tecniques but just applied to animals, she couldn't do it with humans, so she would gladly work for museums and not for funeral agencies.

Sabito, Makomo, Sanemi, Harriet and Hiromi are all in the military strategy study program, no one of them is planning to join the army they'd like more to work as strategists. Makomo and Akane are more focused on weapon production.

Giyu is the only one who studies marine biology, so from time to time he embarks to conduct research. Usually is just for a working week and then he comes back for the weekend. Fukuge too studies biology but he's more focused on botanical topics and not at all on animals.

Fujiko is a singer (he's like me, she plays in front of an audience of thirty people in a pub and all the subjects of her songs are in the room) but she didn't want to study music because it's her passion and she knows she would certainly lose her passion, she decided to study archeology instead because she always felt deeply fascinated by ancient architecture and history. Mitsuri too is an artist but she decided to study art (sculpture and painting). Ayumi studies literature, she loves writing and reading and she would love to be a teacher even if she knows she's too shy to be one (at the moment). Nezha wants to become a teacher too and he's studying philosophy, of course he's not shy as Ayumi and in this AU he would be a troublemaker.

The Rengoku twins... well, they already have much money, they could study something completely useless and still don't have any problems concerning job or money. Asuka studies design and she's focusing on interior design, while Kyojuro is in the academy to learn how to control flame magic and nothing more. Flame magic isn't something you can learn but it's more an innate ability, the problem is that no one is able to control it without proper training and it usually ends in unintentionally set something on fire, that's exactly what happened: when he was little he set a wooden box on fire and burned his arms, he still has burn scars on both his hands and forearms, after the incident he started to feel sick often and having many problems so also for this reason he has a reduced study plan, plus he has hearing aids in this AU.

Shinob Obanai study chemistry, both are more pharmacy oriented. Enmu and Kanae both study medicine, he is studying to become a surgeon, she's focused on first aid.

Tengen studies astronomy, his goal is to join a planetary defense team after graduating; hoping no asteroids will hit their planet soon, but in this case he'd work as astronomers for their equivalent of our NASA.

I hope you liked this, I am in love with this AU and I hope to have new ideas to use for it very soon.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Simulation sheds light on Earth's magnetic field generation while advancing neuromorphic computing

How does the Earth generate its magnetic field? While the basic mechanisms seem to be understood, many details remain unresolved. A team of researchers from the Center for Advanced Systems Understanding at the Helmholtz-Zentrum Dresden-Rossendorf, Sandia National Laboratories (U.S.) and the French Alternative Energies and Atomic Energy Commission has introduced a simulation method that promises new insights into the Earth's core.

The method, presented in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, simulates not only the behavior of atoms, but also the magnetic properties of materials. The approach is significant for geophysics and could support the development of neuromorphic computing—an approach to more efficient AI systems.

The Earth's magnetic field is essential for sustaining life, as it shields the planet from cosmic radiation and solar wind. It is generated by the geodynamo effect. "We know that the Earth's core is primarily composed of iron," explains Attila Cangi, Head of the Machine Learning for Materials Design department at CASUS.

"As you get closer to the Earth's core, both temperature and pressure increase. The increase in temperature causes materials to melt, while the increase in pressure keeps them solid. Because of the specific temperature and pressure conditions inside the Earth, the outer core is in a molten state, while the inner core remains solid."

Electrically charged, liquid iron flows around the solid inner core driven by Earth's rotation and convection currents. These movements produce electric currents, which, in turn, generate the planet's magnetic field.

However, important questions about the Earth's core remain unanswered. For instance, what is the exact structure of its core? And what role do additional elements—thought to be present alongside iron—play? Both factors could profoundly influence the geodynamo effect.

Clues come from experiments where scientists send seismic waves through the Earth and measure their "echoes" with highly sensitive sensors. "These experiments suggest that the core contains more than just iron," says Svetoslav Nikolov from Sandia National Laboratories, lead author of the study. "The measurements do not agree with computer simulations that assume a pure iron core."

Simulating shock waves on the computer

The research team has now achieved significant progress by developing and testing a new simulation method. The key innovation of the method, called molecular-spin dynamics, lies in the integration of two previously separate simulation approaches: molecular dynamics, which models atomic motion, and spin dynamics, which accounts for magnetic properties.

"By combining these two methods, we were able to investigate the influence of magnetism under high-pressure and high-temperature conditions on length and time scales that were previously unattainable," emphasizes CEA physicist Julien Tranchida.

Specifically, the team simulated the behavior of 2 million iron atoms and their spins to analyze the dynamic interplay between mechanical and magnetic properties. The researchers also employed artificial intelligence (AI), using machine learning to determine force fields—interactions between atoms—with high precision. Developing and training these models required high-performance computing resources.

Once the models were ready, the researchers performed the actual simulations: The digital model of 2 million iron atoms, representative of the Earth's core, was subjected to the temperature and pressure conditions found in the Earth's interior. This was done by propagating pressure waves through the iron atoms, simulating their heating and compression.

When the speed of these shock waves was lower, the iron remained solid and adopted different crystal structures. When the shock waves were faster, the iron became mostly liquid. In particular, the researchers found that magnetic effects significantly affect the material's properties.

"Our simulations agree well with the experimental data," says Mitchell Wood, a materials scientist at Sandia National Laboratories, "and they suggest that under certain temperature and pressure conditions, a particular phase of iron could stabilize and potentially affect the geodynamo."

This phase, known as the BCC phase, has not been experimentally observed in iron under these conditions, only hypothesized. If confirmed, the results of the molecular-spin dynamics method could help resolve several questions about the geodynamo effect.

Driving energy-efficient AI

Beyond uncovering new details about the Earth's interior, the method also has the potential to drive technological innovations in materials science. Both in his department and through external collaboration, Cangi plans to use the technique to model neuromorphic computing devices.

This is a new type of hardware inspired by the way the human brain works, which could one day process AI algorithms faster and more energy-efficiently. By digitally replicating spin-based neuromorphic systems, the new simulation method could support the development of innovative, efficient hardware solutions for machine learning.

Data storage offers a second compelling avenue for further research: Magnetic domains along tiny nanowires could serve as storage media that are faster and more energy-efficient than conventional technologies.

"There are currently no accurate simulation methods for either application," says Cangi. "But I am confident that our new approach can model the required physical processes in such a realistic way, that we can significantly accelerate the technological development of these IT innovations."

[preservationofnormalcy]

Greetings from T!ss, and you have my thanks for connecting me with Ambrose and the Circle. Both have been quite helpful in guiding my research into the traits of this realm that hinder my magics. With Ambrose’s help, I have discovered a method of synthesizing something that he has termed “pseudo-aether”; while it is not ptaes, and probably isn’t particularly healthy for me in the long run, it should stave off The Wasting long enough for me to complete my research and return home. Collaboration with the Circle has been quite enlightening for all concerned, and you can expect some interesting publications from them once I have departed from your world.

As for the effect of my aura on the local fauna, extended time spent in proximity to me seems to cause them to weaken, wither, then eventually collapse before their vital functions cease. I am told that they also change “color” during this process, though I struggle to comprehend what that means; what little I understand of your forms of sensory perception seems rather counter-intuitive. Also, exposure to my aura causes the subject to expel a great deal of a liquid that I have been told is called “blood”. Fortunately, it seems that most beings with the presence of mind to do so can usually leave the vicinity before fatal exposure, but I can only guess at what effects may linger after removing oneself from immediate danger.

I have been using an abandoned structure as my residence and impromptu laboratory, and with guidance from the Circle have set up a few wards that hopefully keep my aura mostly contained to the premises, albeit with the side effect of strengthening its effect within the structure – I would welcome any advice you have regarding these wards. My enhanced aura, combined with the… unusual effects my experiments have had on the local laws of physics, has rendered the interior of the structure to be quite hazardous to lifeforms accustomed to local conditions. Ambrose has suggested that rather than more traditional forms of quarantine and ontological remediation, it may be simpler to fold this structure into its own pocket dimension and disconnect it from your continuum after my departure. This would prevent further pollution of your realm, and he seems quite interested in studying the resulting demi-plane; you can expect to receive a formal proposal from him shortly.

One new concern has arisen: it appears that a few unidentified humans have taken interest in the structure within which I reside. The Circle assures me they are not agents of theirs. They have yet to attempt entry, but if they should do so they risk not only exposing themselves to my intensified aura, but also may disrupt the wards containing it, to say nothing of potentially disturbing my experiments. I dare not leave this structure to discourage them directly, for obvious reasons. I humbly request your assistance.

Oh hey! Great to hear from you.

Last I heard from Ambrose they'd figured out a way to get his chair out there. A lot of ramps, I understand, designed by our friend Koppel over in the Occult Industrial Research Commission. Ambrose is probably the smartest guy on the planet and in my opinion the greatest living wizard and theoretical thaumaturgist, but he's a little scatterbrained on updating his coworkers when they're researching something cool! Love you, Ambo.

It's not surprising to me at all that he's been helping you figure things out. I'm nowhere near as thaumaturgically knowledgeable as any apprentice wizard, but I do know my way around a cantrip, and the stuff coming across my desk is fascinating. It seems like, and this is just my very surface level reading, that most of your magic exists at opposing angles to ours. It's like trying to sail upwind. Also, it seems like by your laws of physics, tungsten of all things decays into a few isotopes that can't exist in our universe.

The Circle people are professionals too. We don't typically get many of their internal research documents/scripture for memetic reasons, but a few of them keep us posted on the basics. Your last note is...concerning. I didn't think we'd have to send O-Sec out there but we are, just in case. Stay vigilant. If O-Sec thinks it's a security risk, we may move Ambrose out of there.

[wyola-normiss]

Analysis

Which courses should I choose?

Connections: How do the planets representing courses connect with the Ascendant, the Ascendant’s administrator, and each other?

Aspects: What aspects are formed between the planets representing courses and Ascendant, the administrator of Ascendant?

Home: Which houses are the planets representing the courses?

Master of the 10th house: The master of the 10th house in the tomb map, usually represents the profession and career. Where is it located and what aspects does it form?

Venus. Interior design course: (beauty, harmony, aesthetics) or Moon (home, comfort). If the course is more technical, you can add Saturn (structure, planning).

The planets themselves:

Mercury. Course of linguistics: (language, communication); course of programming: (information, communication, intelligence). Can be augmented by Uran (innovation, technology) if the course is related to new technologies. Marketing course: (communication), Jupiter (expansion, success), Sun (leadership).

Moon. Course of yoga or something emotional: (body, relaxation), Jupiter (spirituality), Neptune (intuition). Course of cooking: (food, emotions) or Venus (taste, pleasure). Psychology course: (emotions), Neptune (intuition, unconscious), Jupiter (wisdom).

Medical course: (body, health), Mars (surgery, energy), Mercury (diagnosis, analysis).

Saturn. Course of financial analysis: (structure, discipline), Mercury (information), Jupiter (wealth).

Sun. Course of acting: (self-expression), Mars (energy, action), Venus (charm).

One course may be more practice-oriented (Mars), the other theory-oriented (Mercury). Teaching style: one teacher can be more strict (Saturn), the other - more gentle (Venus). Audience of the course: one course can be oriented to beginners (Moon), another - to professionals (Sun).

For example, a planet representing one course may be in the 11th house (hopes, friends), and a planet representing another course may be in the 6th house (work, health). This may indicate that one course will bring more fun and social connections, and the other - more practical skills.

Example 1: Course 1 - Design (Venus in the Taurus), Course 2 - Drawing (Sun in the Aries).

Question: Which course should I choose? Ascendant: Cancer (feelings, emotions) Ruler of the Ascendant: Luna (in Sagittarius) Venus (Course 1): in Taurus (exhilaration, strong position) - good position, indicates potential and satisfaction from the course. Sun (Course 2): in Aries (home, strong position) - a strong planet, can indicate self-confidence and active approach to learning. Interpretation: Venus in strong position, and the Moon forms a harmonious aspect with Venus. This may indicate that the design course will be more enjoyable and harmonious. However, the sun is also strong and can speak of more energy and confidence in the process of learning on the drawing course.

Example 2: Course 1 - Psychology (Moon in Cancer), Course 2 - Sociology (Jupiter in Gemini).

Question: Which course is more suitable for my future? Ascendant: Capricorn (goals, ambitions) Ascendant Controller: Saturn (in Scorpion, the tense aspect to Jupiter) Moon (Course 1): in Cancer (home, strong position) - indicates a deep immersion into the subject, emotional involvement. Jupiter (Course 2): In the Gemini (sign mutable, flexible) - may indicate a broader, superficial but extensive approach to the topic. Interpretation: The moon in its abode - psychology can be a more comfortable and exciting process. However, the tense aspect of Saturn to Jupiter points to potential difficulties and obstacles in mastering sociology. At the same time, Jupiter in house 10 can talk about career prospects after studying sociology.

[backgroundagent3]

15 questions, 15 mutuals

Thanks for the tag @brekker-by-brekkerr! 🥰

Are you named after anyone? My first name was my great grandma's middle name.

When was the last time you cried? The other day discussing my future.

Do you have kids? No, but I really want to some day!

Do you use sarcasm a lot? More and more every day.

What's the first thing you notice about people? I guess their appearance?

What's your eye colour? Light blue.

Scary movie or happy ending? Happy ending all the way.

Any special talents? I have a really good memory (both a blessing and a curse).

Where were you born? A hospital in Madrid.

What are your hobbies? Watercolour painting, making bracelets and reading.

Have you got pets? No, but I've had two tortoises and a cat as a kid.

What sports do you/have you played? I've played basketball, volleyball, tennis and badminton throughout my life.

How tall are you? I think 1,71 cm, which I believe is 5'5"? Not 100% sure though.

Favourite subject in school? Maths, Geography and Art.

Dream job? I'm studying to be an architect, and I'd love to do something more related with interior design.

No pressure tagging @fangirl-couch-potato, @aintinacage, @accidental-spice, @likea-black-widow-baby, @artist-withnoname, @achromaticerebus, @mewwinx96, @just-a-latina-fangirl, @trapezequeen, @firefoxtessa, @marvelsaos, @stilltryingtowrite, @daisyssousa, @gingerpeachtea and @sheisamelody!

[hlvraik]

Why do you think Bubby's so obsessed with space?

Listen. For the past, what? Thirty years of Bubby's entire life, they've only known not only the circular encasing that was their tube but the labatory room where they were created and are currently being studied. (Hell, aside from a professor, call them an interior designer or architect.) They know everything—every measurement, every minute detail of the room—off the top of their heads.

With that being said, as a young child, although they understood the concept of space, thanks to the knowledge they were pumping into them, they didn't want to believe it. They considered space to be similar to that of a fairy tale, as they're stubborn and have only been subjected to Black Mesa and what it has to offer. Sort of like object permanence, since Bubby can't see space, even though it's constantly present, they don't believe in its presence.

So whenever Bubby fell in love with Coomer and Coomer busted them out of their tube to go sit on the top balcony roof of Black Mesa to see the stars, it struck a chord with them. Not only was space real and beautiful, it showed them that there was more to life than this shitty laboratory; they didn't have to be confined and restricted to such a small space.

TLDR; Bubby adores space for a multitude of reasons. It not only makes them think of a special time they had with their future husband, but it also gives them comfort. In contrast to being confined to a very stuffy tube that regrettably doesn't grow as they get older, space itself is constantly growing allowing for a multitude of ideas and possibilities.

[elisysd]

4. I love you, it's ruining my life

Summary : Kyle Dawson would never be more than a childhood crush to Romy Schumacher and she had made her peace with that fact a long time ago. But when a drunken night leads her waking up next to him, new and old feelings come back to the surface and what started as a mistake quickly becomes an habit. Even if she swore to herself that she would never fall again for the world champion, her heart has other plans. After all, the heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing.

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Fortnight - Taylor Swift ft Post Malone

He didn’t miss Kentucky's sun if he was honest. Or more like he didn’t miss working like a mad man under it. It had been a long time since he had sweated that much. He had spent his day with his dad taking care of the farm. It reminded him of his childhood, years before he had left the US to follow his dreams.  His father had complained a lot when he had arrived to tell them that he was there to help. But he couldn’t stand still. He hated how he had not been there when his mom told him about his dad’s stroke. It hurt him when she had said that she didn’t want to bother him while he was about to win his second title. His family was important. More important than anything. He would have dropped everything to be there. So, to ease the guilt feeling he had made sure his dad benefited from the best and most expensive treatments. It was the least he could do.

“We are thinking of upgrading the barn.” his mom told him, showing him the plans.

“We also want to buy newer equipment. You send us more money that we can use, Kyle,” his dad mumbled.

“I have too much money. It’s only fair that you get some of what I earn. After everything you’ve done for me.”

“I can still remember when you were a kid and you were begging me to tie your kart to the tractor so you could fake going fast.”

Kyle laughed. He remembered those days. It was a bittersweet feeling. He had left home at thirteen years old to integrate a school in Italy where many promising athletes who had to be away from home were studying. Everything had been made to accommodate him so he could travel for races. It had been tough but the whole experience was part of his best memories. He couldn’t forget about the many sleepovers with Ludwig and Ethan during race weekends, too. They were his brothers and he would give his all for them. 

“So, ready for the season? How is the car?” his dad asked.

“We don’t know for sure. Simulation wise, it’s nice but we only will know for sure in Bahrain.”

“You are the big favorite, though.” 

“Everyone improves each year. Winning last year doesn’t mean that it will be the case this year. Especially since we don’t know how much other teams improved.”

“I have faith in you. You will beat them.”

Kyle smiled, digging into his soup.

“I’m going to get you passes for the US races. I hope you will be able to make it.”

“We have the farm, Kyle… you know it’s tough to leave.”

“I’ll take care of everything. Accommodations, flights… just be there please. It means a lot to me.”

“We will try.”

“You say that each year.”

“We are not like your friends’ parents who don't have a job that occupies them 24/7.”

“I just want you to see me race, at least once. You’ve never come to any of my F1 races. Never seen me on the podium. And the television doesn’t count.”

He didn’t mean to sound this bitter. He saw his dad slightly flinch and his mom trying her best to ignore the tension.

“Anyway… you’ll never guess who I ran into at the supermarket earlier,” his mom said, changing the subject. After a dramatic pause for good measure, she added. “Margaret.”

“Margaret?” Kyle repeated.

“Hilary’s mom. We chatted a little bit, told her you were there and of course asked how her daughter was doing. You would be delighted to know that she landed a position as an interior designer in one of the most prestigious firms in New-York. I’ve always thought she was super smart. A beauty with a brain, truly.”

“Nice. Good for her. Really. It was her dream to work there.”

“And still no ring around her finger.”

Kyle sighed. Of course she would go there, he was surprised that she hadn’t already. She loved Hilary like her own daughter and had never really forgiven her son for breaking up with her. In her head, he would get married to her and she was crushed when Kyle dropped the news.

“Maybe you should contact her. Rekindle the flame.”

“Mom. It’s over. For good”

“But why?”

“Because I wasn’t in love with her anymore and look, it was probably the best decision ever. She is accomplishing her dreams and I’m not stringing her along.

“Love comes and goes. It’s a concept, not a linear path. You can’t love someone forever, at some point it fades and you’re just content with the person, right Richard?”

Kyle looked at his dad throwing his arms in the air as if to say he wouldn’t join the debate.

“I won’t have this conversation again, mom.”

“Your career is not everything, Kyle, you should start thinking about what you’ll do after it. And a family should be on top of your priorities.”

He didn’t bother to reply, only left the table to go outside and cool off, soon joined by his dad.

“Your mom can be annoying but she only wants what is best for you.”

“What is best for me is not Hilary.”

“She just wants to see you happy.”

“I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You have to admit that your break up with her was very sudden and came from out of nowhere.”

“Maybe, but I did what was best for us at the time. I had to break up with her.”

“Was there someone else?” Richard asked cautiously.

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes, either.”

Kyle leaned against the barrier as a horse came by to nuzzle his nose in his hand.

“There is a girl that I like, I really do. But it’s hot and cold between us, she is hard to understand. One day I think there might be something and the next she doesn’t even look at me. I don’t know where this is going to lead, if even it will lead somewhere. We are different.”

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe you need someone who challenges you.”

“She is a firefly, dad. Bright as the shiniest light when it's dark outside and gone as soon as the sun is rising or when I try to catch her.”

“Well, you just have to be quicker than her then, son,” his dad added, winking at him.

Thoughts all over the place, he wished the night would help him clear his mind. His room had not changed over the years, it was still the same one that he had grown up in. He laid on his bed and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift to Romy. Again. Talking about her, even without mentioning her name, felt nice. She was shaking up his whole world and convictions, making him do things he had never thought he would do. Like, one night stands. He was a relationship kind of guy. He liked that, he liked commitment. And he knew himself, he was falling fast, he could feel it. He also knew that Romy was not the type of woman to commit. She wanted to be free. Maybe his dad was wrong, maybe staying away was a better idea. But why did that perspective hurt him more than being rejected, then? Torturing himself, he looked at his phone, searching for her last text. The one where she had told him that there would never be something more between them. He contemplated it. He missed her. Not her body, not her lips on his. He missed her. In every way she was. If they couldn’t be more than friends, then he would be just that. A friend. Even if it was killing him inside.

He went through his phone, searching for something to send to her. She knew she was back home, she knew how much she liked horses and ironically, his parents had a few. He was not a huge fan of riding but he still liked being around them. He finally found what he was looking for.

Donny would love to meet you.

It was a picture of him from a few years ago, taken during the summer break with an appaloosa. Maybe it was straightforward but he didn’t care. He put his phone in airplane mode and went to sleep, not expecting an answer anytime soon.

He woke up the next day feeling weird, his eyes having a harder time than usual adjusting to the lights. It was blurry. He rubbed his eyes, not thinking twice about it. The stress of the new season, added to the pressure of being a two-times world champion, was probably playing on his health. He had to relax. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out and suddenly he was seeing clearer. He unplugged his phone and his heart almost dropped when he noticed Romy’s name on his screen along with a picture of her younger self, on a black horse.

I’ll meet him if you meet Indigo.

Author's note: A little trip into Kyle's family and a glimpse of his past 🥰

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @smoooothoperator-admin

[your7oxygen]

5 Essential Tips to Elevate Your Home’s Luxury Interior Design

Luxury interior design is about creating spaces embodying sophistication, comfort, and exclusivity. Here are five essential tips to transform your home into a luxurious haven.

1. Define Your Own Luxury

Luxury is subjective and personal. Whether through high-quality materials, bespoke craftsmanship, or the sheer comfort a space provides, luxury should evoke a sentimental response and utmost comfort. Explore styles like traditional, transitional, art deco, or contemporary to find what resonates with your sense of sophistication.

2. Find Inspiration

Before diving into the design process, take time to gather inspiration. Look for ideas that spark your creativity and align with your preferences. This step helps in narrowing down your needs and can also involve seeking professional advice to capture your unique vision of luxury.

3. Plan Your Luxurious Space

A well-thought-out plan is crucial for a seamless design process. Once you have your inspiration, meticulously plan every detail with care. Working with professional interior designers can ensure that your luxurious space is executed flawlessly, saving you time and effort.

4. Invest in Quality

Quality is a cornerstone of luxury interior design. Invest in high-quality furnishings and services to ensure long-term satisfaction and value. Choosing the best options for your living space reduces worries about potential issues and enhances your overall experience.

5. Elevate Your Space with Lighting

Lighting plays a pivotal role in setting the mood and highlighting the features of your space. Incorporate a mix of lighting options to create different ambiances. White light is ideal for productive areas like study rooms, while warm yellow light adds coziness to bedrooms and dining areas. The right lighting enhances the luxurious feel of your home.