#Wood Cabinets for Hotels

[123funnelhacker]

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[indiatrendzs]

ONE OF A KIND ANTIQUE FURNITURE & DOORS

Mogul Interior, nestled in Florida, serves as a captivating portal to an exotic realm of one-of-a-kind antique furniture. The vibrant artistry and historical narratives woven into every piece, notably the intricately carved doors, antique armoires, vintage pitara chests, and rustic coffee tables, craft striking statements within interiors. The antique armoires, distinguished by meticulous…

[literaryvein-reblogs]

some words for worldbuilding (pt. 1)

Air

billow, breath, bubble, draft, effervescence, fumes, puff, vapor

Arena

aquarium, bazaar, coliseum, field, hall, mecca, stage

Building

abbey, architecture, armory, asylum, bakery, bar, booth, cathedral, club, construction, court, department store, dock, edifice, emergency room, factory, food court, fort/fortress, framework, garrison, greasy spoon, hacienda, hangout, headquarters, hotel, inn, institute/institution, jetty, laboratory, mansion, mental hospital, monastery, mosque, museum, nursing home, office, pavilion, penitentiary, plant, prison, rampart, repository, ruins, sanctuary, shrine, skyscraper, stockade, storeroom, structure, temple, theater/theatre, treasury, warehouse, wharf

City

capital, metropolis, town, village

Furniture

altar, banister, bench, booth, bunk, cabinet, chair, couch, crib, davenport, dresser, furnishings, futon, jetty, lectern, partition, perch, platform, pulpit, rail/railing, screen, secretary, stand, wardrobe

Geographic division

area, county, desert, dynasty, kingdom, outskirts, quarter, sector, suburb, territory, tract, zone

Habitat

abode, ecosystem, environmentalist, habitat/habitation, harbor, home, land, nest, paradise, premises, refuge, settlement, tent

Habitat, human: accommodations, apartment, barracks, cabin, castle, condominium, convent, domesticity, dungeon, element, encampment, estate, grange, hacienda, home, house, housing, hut, jail, lodging, madhouse, monastery, neighborhood, old country, palace, prison, reservation, resort, sanctuary, shanty, suite, vacancy, villa

Habitat, rural: barn, burrow, conservatory, desert, farm, forest, grange, jungle, sanctuary, wilderness/wilds, wood/woods

Land

abyss, avalanche, bank, bay, bed, bluff, campus, cape, cavern, cliff, compost, cove, crevice/crevasse, dirt, downgrade, dune, elevation, estuary, expanse, field, fossil, garden, glacier, gorge, green, ground, gulf, harbor, hillock, inlet, knoll, landscape, lawn, lot, marshy, menagerie, mine, moat, mound, mountainous, nature, outlook, park, patio, pit, plateau, plaza, porch, prairie, projection, property, quagmire, ravine, ridge, savanna, shelf, soil, stack, table, trench, tundra, valley, well, wood/woods, yard

Nation

country, home, land, nationality, soil, state

Personal item

adornment, amulet, beads, best-seller, briefcase, cache, cargo, charm, contraceptive, disguise, effects, equipment, favorite, gem, glasses, handbag, jewelry, knickknack, luggage, marionette, memorabilia, necklace, novelty, object d’art, odds-on-favorite, paraphernalia, pledge, possession, pride, puppet, purse, resources, ring, souvenir, stuff, supplies, sustenance, thing/things, trappings, trifle, valuable

Planet

cosmos, Earth, galaxy, moon, planet, sphere, world

Region

capital, commonwealth, quarter, region, settlement, suburb

Room

alcove, attic, bath, bedroom, boutique, cellar, den, enclosure, foyer, gin mill, hall, lavatory, loft, outhouse, parlor, restaurant, saloon, shop, stage, store, tenement, theater/theatre, vestibule

Shape

angular, beaten, billowy, checkered, concave, conical/conic, crescent, curly, deformed, elliptical, flat, gnarled, kinky, misshapen, obtuse, round, shapeless, spiral, straight

Vehicle

camper, conveyance, motorcade, transport

Vehicle, air: aircraft, armada, blimp, dirigible, helicopter, shuttle, UFO

Vehicle, land: ambulance, bicycle, car, cherry-picker, dolly, excavator, model, traffic, truck

Vehicle, water: armada, boat, craft, fleet, sailboat, yacht

Water

abyss, aqueduct, basin, beach, blackball, brook, cape, channel, condensation, creek, deep, estuary, fountain, gulf, heading, inlet, lake, oasis, pond, promontory, reservoir, sea, spray, strait, tide, wash, wave, whirlpool

NOTE

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary. Writing Resources PDFs

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is stunning. It's an estate built in 1988 in Danville, CA. The inspiration was Frank Lloyd Wrights famous masterpiece "Fallingwater." It has 7bds, 14ba, and it just had a price increase of $500K, for a total asking price of $10.5M + $745mo. HOA.

Isn't this beautiful? Walk in, and climb the stairs to a bridge. I wonder if they have someone to care for all the plants.

Look at the wood. That ceiling! And, then the varied stones and greenery. It looks like the bridge goes over a trough filled with river rock.

I wonder if the the plants and statuary convey. These floors look like slabs of stone or marble.

This is interesting. I've never seen a living room with the same furniture pieces facing one another. What symmetry.

There seem to be lots of levels and stairs.

Here's a bear by a waterfall.

The kitchen cabinets look like bamboo and it looks like they have stone counters.

We've never seen a kitchen quite like this. Some of the cabinets and appliances are set into stone.

This dining area is so large, it looks like an entrance hall with big glass doors and a fireplace. The floors are flagstone in some parts of the house.

Instead of a regular dining room table, they have the formal dining room set up like a restaurant. It looks like this floor is marble.

A wine cellar and a glass-enclosed tasting room. Very classy.

Kind of like walking thru a hi-end mall.

Here's the primary bedroom. It's quite large. There's a sitting area that looks like a living room and above there's a loft.

What a pretty bathroom, except that I don't like the carpet, but it was popular in the 80s.

There are so many places to sit. Lots of rocks and water features. Also notice how the ceiling changes.

Another bridge. You could get lost in here.

This secondary bedroom looks like a nice hotel room.

This looks like another entrance. It's beautiful. Look at the orange on the rock walls.

Have you ever seen a garage like this? It's for a car collection and features slivery columns and a row of chandeliers. What if you aren't a car collector? Maybe it could be a theater.

There's a bar in here.

This is an outdoor covered pavilion with a barbecue kitchen.

The grounds are gorgeous with paths, water features, and bridges.

It has a tranquil pool surrounded by plants.

The 4.54 acre property looks like a small town or mall. Note the tennis court on top of the roof of the garage, the fountain in the middle, all the greenery.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/81-Eagle-Ridge-Pl-Danville-CA-94506/18435730_zpid?

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Day Seven of Bucktommy Fluffebruary is Love Notes/Letters. I don't know if the formatting will be fucked on here for the last note? But here's hoping it's not. This is also on AO3 over here. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

It started with a stolen hoodie. Evan had “borrowed” one for a few weeks and finally returned it, freshly laundered, because Tommy had left another one at his place and Evan liked the new one better. When he puts the hoodie on a couple days later, he feels something crinkle in the pocket and reaches into it, puzzled.

There’s a piece of paper from the pad that Evan uses for grocery lists, and it says:

Don’t think I won’t steal this one again, but you can have it back for now. ♥️ Love you xx

He smiles and rubs his thumb over the heart before tucking the note into his wallet.

When he drops Evan’s gym bag off at the station a few days later, he gets a text message twenty minutes after that’s just a bunch of heart-eye emojis and a photo of the note he’d left in the pocket he keeps his electrolyte powder in.

I’m going to miss your face all day, please send me pictures of it. ♥️ I love you

Another photo follows of Evan’s beautiful, grinning face and a blurry, disgusted-looking Howie in the background.

So it becomes a Thing.

Evan drops off lunch at Harbor Station, and Tommy immediately pokes through everything for a note.

Tommy has to leave early for work, so he puts a cup of coffee on the nightstand with a note underneath.

Evan gropes his ass on his way out of the house, and Tommy finds a folded up piece of paper in his back pocket.

Tommy orders a drink for the cute guy with the curls at the end of the bar and scribbles a note on a napkin for the bartender to give to him with the drink. That one, admittedly, is one of his best moves. Evan doesn’t even touch the drink, he just marches over to Tommy and kisses him in front of the entire karaoke trivia crowd.

Evan finally moves into the house, and there’s a note in every drawer and cabinet by the time he’s moved in. Tommy collects the ones for him and has had to make a little wooden trinket box out of scrap wood to keep them in, but his favorites rotate in his wallet.

Tommy slips a note to Maddie to give to her brother before their wedding ceremony that says:

Do you like me? Check y/n ♥️ 🔲 yes 🔲 no

She marches back to his hotel room right before Tommy is about to get in the car to go to the ceremony and presses a note to his chest.

“You guys are ridiculous,” she says, smiling and wiping away a tear that slips down her cheek. Tommy leans in and kisses her other cheek. “Oh, my god, I’m so happy for you two.”

He unfolds the note in the car and his heart catches for a moment before he starts laughing.

love Do you like∧ me? Check y/n ♥️ 🔲 yes 🔲 no ✔️ With all my heart and soul, yes, you dork.

He carries it in his breast pocket through the ceremony and the reception. After, he retrieves it from the jacket where it was dropped on the floor of their hotel room and runs his fingers over it.

“We should frame that one,” Evan says, hugging him from behind and rubbing his cheek against the back of his shoulder.

Tommy smiles and tips his head back to kiss his temple. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

–

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Twenty Five♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Twenty Five Warnings: profanity, sexual content, oral (f receiving), blowjobs, p in v sex, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, creampie, almost getting caught (? Idk) Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Twenty Five]

Charlie stumbled over to where Alastor lay motionless. Blood dripped from his nose, down his chin and trickled down his neck, and his only newly repaired cane lay bent and sparking. A small buzzing sound emanated from it, and when she leaned closer she realized it was a voice. 

More specifically, Lucifer’s voice. 

“I don’t care- lives or dies. I don’t care at all…It’s- fault she’s ended up-…to save her? Are you- Just leave her for the Vees.”

It was cracked and broken, but it was him. She turned around to see him carrying your limp body in his arms, with such tenderness that made her eyes well.

“Dad.”

He looked up. She pointed at the cane.

“Did you say any of this?”

His brow furrowed as he listened, then his face slowly darkened as he pieced two and two together. Vaggie came up behind the three of you.

“Maybe you and [name] should go inside,” she suggested to Lucifer, glancing at the way he looked at you and smiling. “We’ll worry about Alastor.”

He cleared his throat disconcertedly and nodded. “Right.” 

He entered the building, still cradling you in his arms. Charlie and Vaggie both turned to each other, and their jaws dropped open.

“Ohmygoshdidyouseethat?!” Charlie practically squealed, gripping Vaggie’s arms. Vaggie nodded, eyes wide, and they both stared after the closed door which you and Lucifer had just gone through. 

“I have so many questions.”

“Me too.”

-

You groaned, wings fluttering as you stirred. Bedsheets shifted beneath your hands. You shakily sat up, blearily blinking away the last traces of sleep as you took in your surroundings. 

There was a yellow sticky note on the bedside cabinet. You pulled it away from the wood and read it. 

We can talk when you’re ready. There’s a lot to discuss! You can take a bath in the en suite. We washed your clothes for you.

-Charlie :)

You frowned, swinging your legs around the edge of the bed and standing up. The plush carpet sank down slightly beneath your feet. 

What happened?

You looked down. You were wearing a slip and some shorts- fresh. Who changed you?

The clothes mentioned in the note were folded in a neat pile next to the sticky note, along with a towel. You padded into the bathroom, switching on the tap in the bathtub and holding your hand underneath the steady stream of water. It was the perfect temperature. 

Your clothes slid to the floor, and you stepped inside. Sliding inside the hot water, you combed through the feathers on your wings, a weak attempt to preen them. 

A knock sounded on the doors, and you heard a muffled call of your name. Footsteps sounded as someone moved around in the bedroom, and they knocked on the bathroom doors. 

“[name]?” It was Charlie. “You in there?”

Your heartbeat quickened with apprehension, even more so at your lack of recollection of events. “Yeah,” you called out hoarsely. 

“Are you… I mean, can I come in?”

“If you must,” you replied curtly, still on guard. 

You pulled your wings around you protectively as she slowly opened the door, peeking in then quickly averting her eyes. “I- hi.”

“Hello.”

She smiled apologetically. “I was just wondering if you’re doing okay.”

You didn’t have a response to that. Your hands gripped the sides of the bathtub as you moved to stand up, and she flung her hands in front of her face. “O-oh, no, don’t get up-“

“Oh, right. Forgot.” Your wings fluttered slightly with the cool air that hit them before you sank back down. Charlie’s lips twisted into an awkward smile as she tentatively made her way to the bathtub, as you squirted shampoo into your open palm.

“Am I in the hotel?” You asked flatly, massaging the foam through your roots. She blinked.

“I mean- yeah. Don’t you remember anything?” 

“No, not really. Just coming here to get Vox.” Your fingers combed through your hair slowly as you stared at her, waiting for her reaction. Her lips formed a small ‘o.’

“That explains a lot. Like why you’re so tense.” She instinctively leaned forward with eagerness to explain the situation to you, but you pulled away, pressing your back to the cold, wet, tiled wall. “You… had a little… uh, I don’t know how to explain it. But you transformed…” she waved her hands around vaguely. “And kind of lost control, so my dad kind of had to… uh, what’s the word? I don’t know what to call it.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

Charlie snapped her fingers. “He tried to calm you down!” You could tell by her awkward grin that those were not the right words to use.   

“And? Let me guess, it didn’t work, and he had to knock me out-“

“Oh, no, it worked. You just passed out. Must have been exhaustion.” She rubbed the back of her neck, looking away. “We… talked. He told me… stuff… and I-“ she sighed. “It must have been rough for you these past few days- I mean, a lot must have happened. You must have had a lot of emotions to handle.” She offered a small smile. “But, you’re here now, so maybe we can all talk it out! I mean, now that you’re a bit more… stable.”

“Wow, thank you,” you said dryly. She cleared her throat. 

“So, I’ll leave you to it.”

Her footsteps faded and the door shut. You shuddered, lowering your head back into  the water. Your hair spread in the water, curling around like tendrils of smoke. You closed your eyes.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that until memories began to seep back. You opened your eyes. The water lapped at your skin with every slight movement. It had turned lukewarm with time. Your fingers had begun to prune. 

You stepped out, beads of water rolling down your skin as you dried your hair and pulled on some proper clothes. You tugged a comb through your hair, hoping to undo the tangles, and a few knocks sounded on the door. You immediately knew it wasn’t Charlie- 

Your heart leapt as you reached for the doorknob.

“Lucifer,” you breathed, not knowing what else to say. He looked at you, almost sick with nerves. Your eyes flew down to his rumpled shirt and disheveled hair. “…Hi.”

He stared at you, slightly flushed. “Hi.”

Your lips twisted into a bashful, awkward smile. He didn’t return it, instead stepping towards you, and this time you didn’t step away. He noticed, and suppressed an elated grin. 

“Can we… talk?” He fiddled with his thumbs. “Properly this time. No…” he waved his hand. “Blowing up at each other or making accusations. Just. Talk.”

You smiled, eyes tired. “I’d like that.”

He let out a small, relieved chuckle, mostly at your expression. You patted the spot next to you on the bed. He sat down next to you, eyes falling to your lips, then flicking back up to meet your eyes. 

“Firstly, I just wanted to start with-“ he ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “Whatever Alastor showed you, or made you listen to- it wasn’t true. I mean, it wasn’t real. I never said any of that.” His hand inched towards yours. “He showed us a recording of your voice too, which is why I…” he trailed off and looked away. 

“It’s okay,” you murmured, creeping your hand towards his too until your fingers were intertwined. “I didn’t-“ you sucked in a harsh breath. “I didn’t react well. It’s just… so many things were happening and I’d lost so much and the thought of you leaving too I-“ tears welled up in your eyes and your throat closed up, so you quickly looked away. “I should have thought more.”

Lucifer smoothed back your hair. “It’s fine, angel, it’s fine to feel.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. I will not cry again. He was wearing a soft smile. You wanted nothing more than to trace the curve of his lips with your own, to steal his breath away, but-

“I was worried too, you know,” he murmured, fingers still on your skin, now brushing your cheek. “You didn’t contact me for ages.” He let out a deep sigh. “You know I would have come to you when I’d heard you’d fallen sooner.” 

You nodded wordlessly. You both fell silent, the only sound filling the room your breathing. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, hyper aware of how close your faces were. His gaze softened.

“You don’t have to say that again, you know,” he chuckled. You bit your lip.

“What are we now?” You blurted, and immediately regretted it as you watched surprise register on his face. “I mean, I get it if you don’t- after everything, I mean it’s been so long so- and all the shit I’ve caused-“ your face turned hot as he placed his thumb on your lip, brushing ever so gently. 

“Now why wouldn’t I want you anymore?” He asked, voice so quiet only you could have heard it. 

“I-it would be understandable-“ you cut off with a sharp inhale as his thumb pressed down, parting your lips ever so slightly as he leaned forward, eyes falling closed. 

You leaned into the kiss eagerly, his lips meeting yours with the desperation bottled up over the time you’d spent apart; his hands fell to your waist, drawing you closer to him as the kiss heated up. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, and you let out a small moan, giving him access.

But at the last second he pulled away, both of you fighting for air. You opened your mouth to say something but he dove back in again, crushing his mouth on yours, his passion tasting far sweeter than anything Heaven could have given you. You whimpered as you both fell back onto the bed, and then did he finally pull away again, panting, face breaking into a breathless smirk. 

“You’re with me now, darling,” he murmured. You flushed as he began pressing feverish kisses to the corner of your mouth, trailing down to your jaw, neck then collarbone. “And I think we have some proper catching up to do, hmm? What do you think, angel?” 

All you could do was let out a small moan of agreement as heat pooled in between your thighs, one of which he grabbed, hooking it around his waist as he pinned you down on the bed, before another sloppy kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.  

A lustful haze clouded your mind as he slowly rolled his hips against yours, sending a wave of pleasure into your core. “Fuck, I missed you,” he growled against your lips, moving back down to your neck to suckle and bite, leaving as many marks as he thought it would take to show you were his. 

You gently pushed him away and he looked up at you. “Wait, we can’t… right now-“ you glanced to the door, and the lock clicked into place. Lucifer smirked at you. You shivered. “What about Alastor? What are we going to do about him?”

He scoffed. “Are you seriously talking about him right now?” You squeaked as something brushed your waist. His tail. Your face burned hotter than the sun. “If I remember correctly, you have a favour to return.”

“Do I?” You squeaked, as his tail wrapped itself around your waist. He grinned, running his tongue over his sharp teeth. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, fingers tracing down the column of your throat, the dip of your collarbone, to the collar of your top, and tugged slightly. “This comes off.”

You scrambled to get it off, hands shaking, as he pulled away from you, then crawled back into his lap, palming the growing tent in his trousers. He flinched. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Returning the favour,” you replied with the most innocent look on your face that he almost came right then and there. “Like you told me too.”

He bit his lip feverishly as you pulled his length from his boxers, swiping your thumb over the tip. You looked him straight in the eyes as you gave it a few languid strokes, making him hiss. 

“That’s not what I- you don’t need to-“ You pressed your finger to his lips, giving him a coy smile. 

“I think I do.” You lowered yourself in between his legs. “It would be unfair, right?”

He nodded shakily, suppressing a whimper as you gave the head kitten licks, hand still gently on the base, before dragging your tongue along the erection. He let out a small moan and you grinned. 

“Enjoying this?” You teased, tongue slowly tracing a vein. He flinched, breathing hard, as you kissed the tip, and let out another breathier moan as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock and slowly sinking down. You felt his hand tangle through your hair as you began bobbing up and down, his whimpers and groans slowly growing louder at your agonizing pace. 

“Fuuuck… yeah,” he gasped, hips bucking up into your face. His head tipped back, chest heaving. “I think I’m gonna cum-“

You simply hummed in response, sending vibrations up his shaft, tipping him over the edge. His hand in your hair tightened, hips moving in tandem with your movements and fingers tangling through the strands as his hot load coated the inside of your mouth. You swallowed it down, gagging slightly as you pulled away, licking your lips. He stared at you. 

“You swallowed.” His voice was barely a whisper.

You simply grinned in response, pushing yourself off of him. He crawled towards you, pinning you back down by the hips, his hands trailing down to your trousers, hooking around the waistband and tugging down. “Off,” he said, still dazed.

You pulled it off of your legs and threw it to the side, where it joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor. He grinned, rubbing the dark, damp patch visible on the crotch of your panties, making you whimper slightly. His expression darkened. 

“You like what we did last time, right?” He hummed, lips brushing the lobe of your ear. You nodded feverishly, bucking your hips, grinding against his hand with a small moan of his name. He just chuckled in response, ducking down, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. His teeth sunk into the softness of your inner thigh, the pain and pleasure making you writhe as he licked the mark he’d left to soothe it. 

His finger hooked around the waistband of your underwear, tugging it slightly as if he was testing it because the next second he tore it off of you. Your heat pulsed with excitement as he tossed the remaining fabric onto the floor, suckling at your inner thighs, lips trailing closer to your pussy. 

“Where’d you even get black lace like that anyways, a newcomer in Hell?” He hummed. His eyes had turned blood red, and they were staring at you. You flinched, tipping your head back with a small groan as he kissed your clit. 

“S-someone gave it to me,” you whimpered, mind flashing back to when Velvette had lent you new clothes to wear. 

“Someone?” He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against your core. You threw your hand over your mouth to stifle a particularly loud moan. “Not another man, I hope.”

You shook your head feverishly, screwing your eyes shut as he licked a long strip up your already soaked entrance, his long, long tongue hot on your skin. You let out another choked whimper as he pressed his thumb to your clit, breathing out slowly. “Good,” he murmured, then delved in. 

You jolted, back arching and hips bucking as his tongue pushed its way into your folds, clutching at the bedsheets as you tried not to let out any lewd sounds, yet a few gasps and whimpers slipping past your lips as his tongue circled and flicked at your clit. “Oh, fuck, Lucifer-“

“Mhm?” He hummed, and the vibrations shook you harder this time, shockwaves into your whole body. “Tell me how good it feels, darling.”

“So good,” you gasped, vision blurring. “So so good…”

His tongue traced letters across your clit- was he writing his name? And you could feel tears form in your eyes as his fingers spread your folds as he pressed his face in between your thighs, lapping at you like a starved man. Your whole body shook. 

Holy fuck. 

“You taste so good,” he groaned, and the words almost tipped you over the edge. 

“I think I’m gonna-“

“Go on, angel, you deserve it.” You could feel his smirk against your skin as you came, the orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your muscles numbed, legs shaking as he pulled away from your dripping cunt. 

He crushed his mouth against yours again, knowing full well you could taste yourself on him. You tangled your fingers through his hair, whispering praises, begging him to fuck you, and it made his muscles tense with a need so intense he’d never felt before. 

“I want you inside,” you whispered before nibbling at his earlobe, your hands trailing down his shoulders. You felt him tense underneath your palms, and he licked his lips before wiping his mouth. 

“Yeah?” His voice was hoarse, eyes lidded with lust. You nodded, biting your lip as you looked at him with the most pleading expression you could muster. 

You felt his cock, hard again, rubbing slickly against your cunt, and grinned through biting your lip. He let out a shaky breath, positioning himself against your entrance, and you tensed with anticipation. 

He froze, seemingly thinking, then smirked. “Beg for it, then.”

You blinked, face burning. “Wh-what?”

He rolled his hips, rubbing up against you. His tip caught your clit and you whimpered. “Beg for it,” he repeated. “Show me just how much you want it.” 

“You’re quite-“ you choked on your own words. “-You’re quite cocky, aren’t you?”

He tilted his head. “Sin of Pride, darling.” You hummed, trailing you hands down his arms, then back up to grip his shoulders and flipping him around. He blinked in surprise as you straddled his waist, grinning down at him. 

“All that just so you don’t have to say a simple please?” He huffed, his voice dissipating into something shakier as you slowly dragged your cunt up his erection, slick with precum, and hummed. 

Without any more words, you positioned yourself above him, slowly sinking down onto his cock. He hissed as you did so, hands finding their way to your hips, squeezing down on the soft flesh, fingers tracing circles into your skin as you rocked into him. He tipped his head back, stifling a groan as you set a rhythm, each rut of your hips into his sending pain sparking into your cunt. 

“Fuck, this is annoying,” he hissed through gritted teeth, and you froze, looking up at him with questioning eyes. “H-having to be quiet,” he explained. His eyes shot to the door, and he rolled his hips against you, his cock hitting the perfect spot that made your head spin. You clamped your hand down over your mouth to muffle a moan. “See what I mean? Fuck, angel, when you move in with me we’re gonna be as loud as we fucking want, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you gasped with another thrust upwards from him, too cock-drunk to register the implications of his words. His grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. 

“Good,” he hissed, thrusting again. You whimpered at the fiery throbbing sensation deep in between your legs, gripping his shoulders as his hands on your hips squeezed tighter, moving you up and down on his cock, slick with your arousal. 

Someone knocked on the door.

You stared at him in horror, freezing, but he put a hand to his lips. “Who is it?” He called. 

“Dad, it’s Charlie. Are you guys okay? It’s just been a while since you went in there.”

He smirked at the look on your face, languidly rolling his hips. The deep kiss of his cock in your walls made your eyes roll back, seeing stars. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Is [name] still in there?”

Where the fuck else would I be? You thought dully, but another thrust made you almost double over, panting hard as you dug into his shoulders. You stared at him, eyes pleading as you shook his head, but he just grinned. 

“Yeah, she’s right here. We’re fine, right [name]?”

“Y-“ Another thrust, even deeper as he pressed you down against his crotch. You bit your lip, screwing your eyes shut and forcing down a moan. “Yeah,” you replied. Your voice was slightly hoarse. 

There was silence on the other side for a few seconds. “Alright then! See you guys!” Charlie’s voice was as cheery as ever, before her footsteps faded away. You glared at Lucifer.

“Are you kidding me? That was so risky. What we got caught?”

He lifted you up slightly, guiding you on his cock, and you almost forgot your frustrations as the pleasure overtook you. “But we didn’t, did we? Relax, angel.” And you did, legs shaking as you resumed your pace. 

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you mumbled feverishly. He let out a breathless, exilarated laugh, accompanied by a particularly brutal thrust. Your vision glazed over.  

“Fuck, me too,” he gasped, fingers digging into your skin, sure to leave marks. 

You bent down, crashing your lips onto his, kissing him with fervour before you pulled away by a centimetre, whispering against his lips. “Cum in me, Lucifer.” 

And he did, inside you, coating your walls with his hot cum. You jolted, your own orgasm crashing around you in waves, legs shaking with stimulation. You pulled away from him, quivering, his cum dripping down your thighs. 

“So, are we…” he paused, trying to catch his breath. “Are we good now?”

You nodded, snuggling up to him and burying your face into the crook of his neck. He threw his arm around you. “Yeah,” you breathed, letting yourself smile softly. “Yeah, we are.”

-

a/n: lmk if you enjoyed! :3c

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

To Love You (Platonic Yandere!Child x Monster! Reader)

Chapter 2: The men in his life

[part 0, 1, here]

CW: femme bodied GN Reader, vulgar language, mentions of abuse, infidelity, unintentional manipulation

Stepping out of the shower felt no different than stepping into it. The wetness was felt, as the water was absorbed into their skin, but just as they could not feel the cold outside, they could not take comfort in the warmth of a shower.

Their home was.. quaint. (Reader) had to learn the concept of an apartment from their newly adopted son (the disgust they felt when they looked out at the building and believed the family lived in a hotel was visible on their face), and although they had their reservations, it wasn't nearly as pathetic as they assumed it would be. They had lived in poverty before, in a space larger than this, however there was electricity and heating; there was more fresh food than (Reader) knew was possible of storing, there were plants and plenty of clothes. Everything was very advanced, and it seemed as though life was much easier to live than before (even if they needed assistance with activating the shower).

Leaving faint footprints on the fake wooden floor, (Reader) saw family portraits both hung up and in standing frames on random shelving. Avery sleepily teetered over towards the monster, instinctively reaching out to grab their hand.

"I... did a truly terrible job of recreating her."

"Hm?"

"I look nothing like your mother."

Avery's hand flexed open for a millisecond before squeezing tighter. His face was scrunched in confusion, like his inability to process his own emotions was upsetting him. "I'm okay with that."

I'm sure you are. (Reader) glanced from Luanne to the man smiling next to her. But will he?

"What is your father's name?"

"Michael."

(Reader) picked up the drowsy child. His hair still smelled like the woods. "Is he a good man?"

The boy sagged, melting into his new "mother's" arms. "I mean, yeah? Mom yells at him a lot though.."

His room was decorated with comic book posters and action figures on every surface. The bed felt luxurious to the monster, and the blanket was expertly made, with intricate characters dyed into the fabric. They would later learn that it was a mass produced comforter, but at that moment it made them wonder who bought such an obviously expensive bed set for a child. If it was the mother, then why? She seemed to despise her son. And if it was the father, then that seemed to be a sign of good luck for (Reader). A kind and loving husband would probably be more welcoming to a previously hostile wife if "she" suddenly became equally as kind and loving.

Avery's tired eyes became unfocused as (Reader) tucked him in.

"Will you still be here when I wake up?"

(Reader) thought of Luanne. Her slightly crinkled skin under her eyes in the photos on the walls. The bright red lipstick on the bathroom counter and the perfume bottle in the medicine cabinet that reeked like her jacket and the skin she owned as (Reader) tore open her body.

"Yes." They were beginning to feel that they were just as confused as Avery.

This family was just a cover. And this family would eventually be nothing more than a meal.

But despite that, they still sat on his bed until the child fell asleep.

(Reader) almost went to investigate their own bed, when the front door opened very softly and slowly. Someone was sneaking in. They calmly changed direction in the hall, silently entering the living room to meet their new husband, who was quietly attempting to remove his shoes.

The monster watched him, his awkward movements as his heart loudly beat in his white collared shirt, and they felt a sense of unease. This was, clearly, Michael. It was the same man from the photographs. So why was he tiptoeing into his own home?

Michael took a shaky breath, calming his anxious heart, when he turned around and saw his wife, nearly experiencing a heart attack.

"Jesus, Luanne! Why're you just standing there?" His tone was accusatory despite the warm smile he had on his face. "I'm sorry I'm late, I got held up by that prick Donnie. Made me stay late to fix some fuck up that the new kid made.."

As he, loudly, approached the monster posing as his wife, they could smell him; and suddenly everything made sense.

He didn't even blink as he stared into his wife's eyes. There was no flicker of discomfort, recognition in his expression.. Michael couldn't tell that there was something off about Luanne.

His shirt smelled like chemicals and fruit and plastic and alcohol.

He leaned in to kiss (Reader).

They were used to kissing humans.

They never once enjoyed it.

But it was something they had to do.

To blend in.

However, when Michael opened his mouth it wasn't just cheap wine (Reader) could smell. It was slightly acidic. And they reared their head away in disgust.

Of course a man like this wouldn't have ever noticed that his wife was abusing his son.

"Your breath smells like another woman's cunt." They still expected Michael to finally notice that they weren't his wife, but even after hearing their voice it didn't seem to phase him.

"..Not this again." He abruptly spun away. "I just got home after a long day, can you not act like a crazy bitch for five fucking minutes?!"

He tossed his keys onto the little table by the front door as aggressively as he could without "throwing" them.

"I work so hard for you and Avery, and all you do is complain. How is that fair to me? You promised you wouldn't bring this up again, and yet here you are-"

"Avery and I were in an accident today." (Reader) cut him off. They didn't really want any sympathy from him, they just didn't want to listen to his pathetic moaning.

Their words seemed to shock him out of his tirade. "What? Is he okay?"

"Yes. However, I have a concussion.. the amb-u-lance doctors said that it was normal to experience some mild memory loss." They hoped their face appeared sincere. "I'm sorry. I thought I smelled something.."

Michael didn't seem to notice that his wife's speech had changed drastically. He reached out in a sympathetic manner, cupping their face with his hand.

"If it's that bad, why didn't they take you to a hospital?"

Ah.

"They suggested I go if my confusion worsens or if I developed any new symptoms."

He sighed through a grimace. "Well.. I'm glad you're alright."

(Reader) contemplated eating him.

"I see you've already showered.. why don't you go to bed, I'll be there in a second?"

You disgust me.

"I'm going to lay down with Avery. I'm still a little shaken up after the accident."

"How did it-?" Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We can talk in the morning."

He reached out again to hold (Reader), and it felt like mold growing on their skin when he planted a kiss on their forehead. His grip was tight on their shoulders, as if to prove that he could kiss them whenever he felt like it and they had no choice.

No; Luanne had no choice.

(Reader) flashed him a smile. He only smiled back.

What a prick.

They silently left the cheating bastard and returned to Avery's bedroom, where they could hear from his breathing that he had woken up and was doing his best to pretend to sleep. "May I lay down for a while?"

He didn't respond but scooted over to make room on his twin sized bed. The child was so small that it didn't cause much cramping to lie beside him.

"Avery?" It was plain curiosity. But a curiosity that was not appropriate when taking to a child. "Why didn't your father stop Luanne?"

Avery opened his large baby like eyes, staring up at (Reader's) unblinking ones. "What do you mean?"

"Did he ever ask you about your bruises?"

"Yes." He answered automatically before pausing, trying to recall a time when his dad may have noticed how mean his mom could be, and realizing that there was none. Every argument they ever had was about them. They were never about him. "No."

(Reader) wondered why they were probing their son. Maybe, deep down the know what they were doing: driving a wedge between them so (Reader) could eat the boy's father without regret. Yet, it didn't feel that way. They wanted to know. They were curious.

"I am not a human."

"..I know."

"My sense of smell is much greater than yours. As is my hearing."

"Really?"

They pulled Avery into a hug, whispering "I can hear your father's heart from the kitchen."

Instead of fear, this revelation seemed to excite the boy. "Really?!" He theatrically whispered back.

"I can smell.. a raccoon outside, climbing a tree."

A small gasp before a "You are a hero!" squeaked out of Avery.

"Avery." Their voice turned serious. "I can smell another woman on your father."

His breathing hitched. "What does that mean?"

".. Your mother was a very bad person for what she did to you. And your father.. he should have noticed what was happening."

Silence thickened between the two. The concept that his father failed him settled into Avery's tiny, six year old brain. Everything felt very complicated, and it was wearing him down. He felt more exhaustion than he felt in a very long time. "Will you protect me?"

(Reader's) mouth moved before the thought formed in their mind. "Yes."

After a very loud, one sided argument about the trashed vehicle, the monster was taking their new boy to school via the city bus. They understood that a motorized carriage must have been expensive, but their survival felt more important. On top of the irritation from an unnecessary "conversation" with their "husband", it stressed out Avery, who appeared to be distant with his father.

The city bus stunk of piss. It was disgusting, but Avery seemed impressed.

"Mom, there's my school!" He jabbed the window, pointing at a very large building,

"Is this a private institution?"

"Inst- insti- tush- ...no, it's a regular school?"

His face lit up with pride when his mom complimented his school, "It's impressive."

That is what they said, however, after exiting the bus and entering the school grounds, there was a very stern looking man glaring at (Reader) from the steps. He was about Michael's age, shaved bald sporting thick framed glasses and was smartly dressed. Upon seeing his frightening stare, they gently squeezed Avery's hand to catch his attention. "Do I know that man?"

"Yeah, that's Mr. Knight.." Avery sounded very quiet. "He's the counselor. He came over for a visit a few weeks ago."

"Why?"

"I don't know?" He lied.

The serious man's face completely changed when Avery drew near, cracking into a large, lopsided and toothy smile. "Good morning, Mr. Avery! How ya doin?" His voice was impressively deep, but (Reader) was more impressed by the fact that they had just realized there were children and teachers of all races entering the same building. They allowed themselves to smile widely, feeling a moment that was close to satisfaction: having been so many people, it was like joy and revenge all at once to be in the future.

But their smile fell when they looked back at the counselor, and recognized the emotion plastered on his form.

He saw (Reader's) smile, and he could tell that it was different.

He was not like Michael, who was so blind to his wife that he did not notice the change; this man saw their smile, and felt the fear, disgust, confusion, and discomfort that humans felt when they saw a fake human.

The uncanny valley.

Mr. Knight visibly shuttered before returning to his previous anger. "Good morning, Mrs. Jones." He spat out the name like it was vinegar. "I see you're personally escorting your son today."

(Reader) focused on keeping their face neutral.

Avery responded before the creature could. "We got into an accident. The car is getting fixed, so we took the bus."

Worry filled his dark eyes, returning his attention to Avery. "An accident? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, but Mom hit her head."

The sympathy he expressed was so plainly fake that it felt spiteful. "Well. Hopefully your injury wasn't too severe?"

(Reader) smiled again.

It made perfect sense. This man hated Luanne, Avery's real mother. But that woman was dead.

"I'm feeling much better now, thank you."

He involuntarily shivered at their voice. Even though he had no way of knowing that the mother was actually an ancient boogeyman forgotten by time, he clearly could feel it.

And while they respected that there seemed to be one adult who cared for Avery, they recognized that Mr. Knight would potentially be a headache for them in the near future.

[numberonetacostan]

homeless taco head cannons break my heart

….

so uh.

have any?

Hello there!!!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for sending in your request!!! :] YOU BET I HAVE HEADCANONS FOR HOMELESS TACO!!! I THINK I'VE SAID SOME IN VARIOUS ANSWERS/POSTS BEFORE BUT I'LL TRY PUTTING ONES I DON'T THINK I'VE POSTED BEFORE!!! YAY HOMELESS HEADCANONS REQUEST!!!!! I love getting hc requests of any sort!!!^^

-Justin confirmed from one of my stream questions that Taco had stolen food from the hotel while she was homeless!!! I definitely think she avoided doing this at all costs, but during winters when she couldn't forage much if any food from the woods, she'd sneak into the hotel at night after like, a week of not eating to grab as much as she can and gtfo!!! Normally she could probably get in and out safely, but again, she hasn't eaten in a week. I think she would get caught by Pepper, who I had mentioned in my one-hc-for-everyone post to be the resident chef in the hotel!!! It's winter so it gets dark early, and Taco has no sense for what time it is other than the sun, so she accidentally goes in too early and Pepper walks in on her raiding the cabinets. Pepper is understandably surprised, but Taco tries to deescalate!! With her current state though, it comes off more like begging Pepper not to rat her out, and I honestly don't think she would. We have a very homeless, starving, freezing, and bedraggled Taco, and Pepper just can't bring herself to do it. She just turns to whatever food she's making and warns Taco that OJ or Paper might be in the check on the meal any moment. Taco leaves and Pepper never says a word. Sorry about the Tacopep friendship propaganda but i want them to be friends.

-I think Taco would spend a lot of time in the Gemory Cave!! It's basically the only "inside" she can access for when it's snowing, raining, etc., yeah? Staying in the forest during a thunderstorm would be more danger than it's worth for her, and with all the tunnels she'd be able to stay hidden pretty well. I'd say she has a few hidey holes in there, small enough that only she and a handful of contestants would even be able to get inside, where she keeps her most important possessions. At least, what she can't hold in her shell, yeah?

-Mephone did not program Taco with the proper knowledge or skills to survive in the wild. She had to figure everything out through trial and error, including what food is and isn't safe to eat. She had a lot of miserable evenings in those early days, throwing up what little she had managed to scrounge together for a meal, hallucinations, headaches, etc., etc.

--Due to these skills though, she's kinda the MVP of the group post-canon. She's the only one who has a lot of these skills and can work successfully with only the resources they can get from the land. She keeps them from going through the same trial and error phase that she had to, especially important now that they can't recover anymore.

-I think she put the sign in front of the Perilous Forest there herself while she was living in the woods, to keep the others from coming in and finding her. What's so perilous about it? Her.

-Rather than sleeping on the ground, I see her sleeping in trees. She's a Taco, she could reasonably nudge herself into a position in which she won't fall, and at least try to fall asleep. It would be a bit risky if case she fell, but it's definitely better than the risk of getting caught unawares. I don't see her sleeping nearly enough when she's homeless, though, and post-canon when she's in the mansion she sleeps for like 27 hours straight and feels better than she has in years.

-I mentioned in another recent post Taco being afraid of snow because of past instances of severe hypothermia!!! And, yeah, if it snows, or even just gets cold enough, she's fucked. The best she has is the cave, and even then, it wouldn't help much. And she's malnourished, which makes her even more prone to it!!! She does not get proper treatment ever!!!!! I'd say she's had some very, very close calls with frostbite, maybe a rough case of pneumonia or two, more hallucinations because they're great for angst, irregular heartbeat (if they have hearts), etc., etc.

Hopefully these seven are enough!!! If you do want more, feel free to let me know!!! Headcanons are so much fun, I'm always happy to answer requests like these!!!^^

[hexpea]

Naoya headcanon of the day: He’s a misogynist partly because ‘wifely’ duties are his hidden talent and women could also be his competition just as much as men.

Like…I bet he’s an amazing cook, knows exactly how to cook a perfect steak AND how to season veggies. Even grocery shopping, probably a pro at picking out the most organic, wholesome foods that he gets for just himself and refuses to eat anything the attendants at the Zenin estate make.

I bet he’s so anal about his laundry that he’s perfected the science so his hakama dry unwrinkled and don’t get me started on the brand of cleaner he meticulously picks out from a local small business. And when they’re torn during battle? Man stitches it up TOIGHT. Like they’re brand spanking new.

And I bet even though he doesn’t have kids of his own you know little kids always stare at him, even when he glares back. He probably disguises a soft spot for his male cousins and takes time to correct their training if he ever strolls by and sees them working out. And when he hears a baby crying and gets frustrated enough to scold the mother about why the baby’s fussy (he knows they need burped or some shi, he just has that instinct from being so annoyed by them), you know his ass knows that technique to get them to stop crying where you hold them a certain way, bet he perfected it so he could shut them up as soon as possible.

And when he goes back to his room for the night after an attendant’s cleaned it, you know he inspects his room…does that lil index finger on the dusty wood move and rubs his finger and thumb together with disgust as he makes a mental note to berate the attendant that missed a spot. But since the attendant isn’t around he gets out his small stash of cleaning supplies in one of the built-in cabinets and just dusts it his fucking self. He also doesn’t let the attendants make his bed bc he likes to tuck in the sheets a certain way (like hotel level folding, it’s TOIGHT).

Ugh, I could keep going…

[simp-ly-writes]

Chapter Six: Heavenly Stars

Can be read as a standalone: Personal Hell Series (pt.7)

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

Summary: You wanted to be alone, to hatefully survive in the hole you found yourself in but when answers come knowing at your door, will you listen to their call even when it goes against everything you have established for yourself in this home?

Warnings: 4864 words, mentions of blood, gore, injury, metal health subjects, drowning, death, and emotional angst.

A/N: Apologies for the wait my Lucifer darlings! But *rubs hands together* we gain answers now.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

The grandfather clock ticking away down the hall is the only sound found within the home besides your paint strokes against the canvas. You are multicoloured, covered in paint from head to tone in various shades and hues as you step back and observe the piece you had been working on. 

How long have I been here for? You think to yourself, muscles sore as you stand and move to get a new cup of water for your paint brushes. Since your time in the Gardens and you haven’t been able to sleep since, you cringe while catching a glimpse of your reflection in a window. The usual ringing in your head was all long gone from your past days without rest now your body feeling more energized than ever as you kept yourself busy with old hobbies in this newfound time. 

The sink whines open, a few droplets drip once you close the tap and find your way back to the balcony, overlooking hell's outer rings. That once cure you had found eons ago had come to fruition, now a vast scape of rolling hills and mature trees breathed with life as you felt jealousy stir within your bones, outlining another tree to your composition. Only accompanied by seemingly endless amounts of time, you felt more and more lost in this old and empty house. As if being sat with your old self that stared you down through each object left for dead in this place. It was equally comforting, being near death’s door again, that old self, but that cold loneliness haunted you more than the screams that plagued the back of your mind. 

Just know that when you wish to dream- you will find me here… waiting. Shaking your head of these thoughts you pack up your supplies and go to the kitchen in search of sustenance. A bowl of pristine red apples glowed in your face, begging for attention, for you to take a bite as you stuck your head into the cabinets and finished out the supplies to make a fresh loaf of bread. 

In between paintings and trying your hand with an old shotgun to hunt for food, you would be found harvesting the overgrown crops of your greenhouse. It felt connecting, taking the time to watch your harvest grow, you had forgotten the wait, the patience of it all in recent times, just observing before going in for the grab. You had started journaling once more, keeping track of your sanity, allowing yourself the possible freedom of finally letting it all go….

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, setting the bread to rest on the windowsill as you look out towards Heaven and its sun-like quality in the red sky. You still do not feel tired, the wood of the structure groans, begging for you to rest like a casket but you clutch at the walls, silent tears falling but you cannot escape. You are forced awake, you cannot dare to dream of a life outside of this, finding yourself wearing the same clothes, his jacket resting against your body, a ghost of a hug that has your heart aching no more than your desire to finally burn that bridge for good. 

His voice haunts you. You can imagine his comforting words, his touch, the ghost of his breath falling upon your neck as your hands trail the various seams and buttons along the coat. You do not realise yourself to be smiling through these tears. You do not know yourself to be in the right or wrong- just horridly conflicted with past and present, vice and virtue. Morality calls to not be in vain, you grip your hair, immortality is a silent scream much to your own, crying out for you to be more. I just can’t seem to find a place to start…

--

After an awkward call to heaven, Lucifer leaves the hotel with a seedling of hope that has yet to be watered. A few guards bow to him as he passes down the mirrored maze of hallways and never ending staircases towards your office where he throws himself to the floor. His breathing is ragged, he watches possible futures flicker through his eyes. Blood and tears mix between songs as he brings his knees up to his chin. 

Throwing off his hat, he listens as the gold of his crown scrapes against the hardwood floors before the snake slithers its way over to him, wrapping its way around his throat, he reaches upwards to it, begging for it to release as his body directs him towards the shattered crown before him. He shakes his head, boots scraping against the floors as voices yell out from behind the closed doors. 

In a few hours, Charlie will be in Heaven, in another few days, your general will still not be there, The King thinks to himself as he cries, forcing himself to stand and lean against your desk as his hands grasp over the various maps and journals. The snake slowly lessens its grip as he takes in deep breaths, trembling fingers drifting over your handwriting.

He feels pathetic, smaller than he knows himself to appear. His mind keeps flickering to those last few moments with you, holding your hand, voicing his love for you to only watch you disappear and be set with the ghosts of you in these rooms and down these halls. He swears to hear your feet are running up to him with grand news or a mere correction to the weather report but nevertheless he ears strain to remember you voicing his name once again- to know that you call out to him. Yet he fails to dream any further as he sips cold tea and places signature after signature on the various reports left unfilled. 

--

A tapping at the window has you falling off the couch as your hands feel under the coffee table for your shotgun. Bringing the handle up to your chest, you stalk your way around the archway and make haste towards your front door. Looking through the peep-hole, not a single soul is present- your shoulders only tense as you raise the barrel and twist the door handle. Rushing outside as you check every corner only to hear a squawk, eyes darting downwards to see a Raven dancing its way from being stepped on by your black boots. 

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, the bird flies up, resting on the barrel as it presents a wax-sealed envelope with your name written in glitter. Shaking your head, the raven transitions itself onto your shoulder as you take the letter from its beak and drop your gun on the coffee table once more, knocking over a stale cup of coffee as it stains the recent newspaper you snuck out to steal from the nearest village. 

The bird chirps in your ear, presenting its neck for a scratch as its wings flutter happily to your physical praise. Filling a bowl with water, you tip your shoulder down to the counter and watch as the raven dips itself inside and takes a drip. Ripping open the letter using a claw, your fingers trace over the Princesses signature, resembling much of the same qualities of her father. A common pattern of letters that you forged oh so many times in Hell's past. 

Your eyes drift over the shaken handwriting as concern etches its way into each wrinkle upon your face. The paper is stained with tears and a droplet of golden blood that has you seeing red- motherfuckers, you spit out, flipping to the next side that houses a simple request. “...I don’t know where else to go, but I need to be away from everyone, could I come stay with you?”

Obvious wear of the page signifies that this sentence had been scrapped and rewritten a multitude of times as you hum out in thought. You saw echoes of yourself in her words and actions, taking the chance to run for a moment, to find freedom from all the decisions that wear a person down overtime. The raven’s eyes pearce through your own that have started to shimmer a yellow hue in the moonlight. You rip a page from one of your journals, listing a simple yes with a request that the bird be the only one who shows her the way here. 

You open the kitchen window, watching as the bird flies up, becoming a mere black speck in the bloodied sky as you lean against the counter, observing your home and omitting a sigh, looking down to your hands. With a singular clap you listen as each scattered object finds its place upon shelves or in the sink beside you. Shoes walk their way towards the closet as your shotgun polishes itself back into its display. Small golden specks flicker and fall towards the floor, lost without a trace alongside the dust between the floorboards, the magic you used now settled as your blood becomes warm- happy that you made use of it. 

You can only roll your shoulder, the jacket appearing to dwarf over your frame as you shimmy it off, resting it against the back of the couch as you make your way upstairs, fighting mentally to come up with a nice outfit to greet the Princess with- Charlie with, your brain corrects you. Hands fly to button up a new shirt as you iron your pants and choose a clean pair of workboots and gloves. You bring up a bottle of wine from the cellar, eyeing the date with a laugh, gods I really am ancient. You think to yourself, this bottle was practically double Charlie's age and you could only reminisce of the sentences Husk would string together at the mere mention of such a luxury bottle of liquor. 

Popping off the lid, you lean your head back on the white jacket, an arm falling onto your shoulder as you swirl your glass, watching as the liquid falls from the walls, clashing back into itself. You can imagine these waves roaring, clashing and becoming one in the end- a pointless battle in the grand scheme of things to only be interrupted by the ringing of a doorbell as a distressed blonde collapses into your arms, their black mascara staining your fresh white gloves as you cradle their head. 

Charlie's glossy red eyes peer into your own as you still, at a loss for words. You had never seen Charlie so down, so utterly miserable as you squeezed the girl that bit harder and picked her up. Flicking your hand for the door to be closed behind you both and led her towards your living space. She looks up as you place her on the couch, conjuring a fresh plate of tea as you extend your hand, offering physical support as she latches on, nails digging into your palm as she sobs out, tears and snot choking her next words as you lean in to hear better. 

“I-I was so excited and then… it all goes to shit. I should have listened to everyone, to you, my dad… my mother…” You open your mouth, about to comment before she continues, eyeing up your glass of wine. “I understand the pain my father went through, now more than ever.”

“Charlie…” you breathe out in concern as you pull the hair from her tear stained cheeks, offering her your handkerchief as she dabs her eyes, looking up towards your vaulted ceilings. “I should have never gone to heaven, held these ‘loft dreams,’” she quotes in her fingers, dropping your hand as she exhales frustration, going to grip her hair, head falling between her knees. “I wanted so much then and now I feel the consequences. Vaggie is not the person I knew her to be- she's an angel and to even think that I admired heaven when these are the tricks they pull!” 

“Charlie-I-” 

“No! It's not fair, and now that motherfucker Adam!”

“Language,“ you state as Charlie flips you the finger, “okay dad/mom,” she states back, picking up her head and showcasing an eye roll as you pull her closer to you, resting her head under your own as you breeze past the title. “I remember Adam,” you state as Charlie looks up at you curiously, “did he declare to come and kill you first too?” 

“Actually-” you start to say while scanning through your memories. 

“You’re joking,” Charlie deadpans just as you shrug your shoulders. The Princesses face falls again soon after as she picks at her nail polish, “I am just as bad as the cruelest list of overlords in hell-”

“No you are not!’ you stand, anger filling your voice as shadows soon emerge from the floorboards before you gain a hold of yourself witnessing the terror starting to rise in Charlie's eyes as you drop to your knees and apologise. “You are not cruel Charlie, you are kind as you are strong. Any overlord in hell… misses those feats,” you state, wrapping her fathers jacket around her frame and pressing a cup of tea into her hands. 

“Now I know better than anyone that all these thoughts lead to nothing but more self wallowing,” you say, taking a sip of your drink before leaning against the arm of the couch opposite of Charlie as she raises an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t that why you are here?” Charlie questions, sneaking a sip of your wine with a small smile starting to form, knowing she caught you there. “Well as I have stated before, you are better than me in many ways,” you retort, shifting the fabric of your shirt to position itself on your elbows as you lean down to pick up a tea cup. 

Charlie laughs out softly, a ping of pride emanates from your chest in managing to cheer her up slightly yet both of your positive reactions soon fall as you summon forth your spear, horns growing out of the top of your head and through your healing hair with the information she presents you. “But that is all besides the point, I need people to fight this battle with me, I need you and I have already made deals-”

“YOU DID WHAT?!” you coldly ask, head tilting, your eyes now slits as you demand answers from the princess. Rank falling from any traditions you held, even with her fathers coat on, you stand at nothing but their utmost safety, even when it comes with disrespect to their pride filled backgrounds. “I made a deal with… well more like through Alastor. He said that I could only accept when I was sleeping so I got him to put me to sleep before coming over to you,” her words come out in waterfalls, spewing at a gallon a minute while you stab a hole into your floors as she continues her story. “A-and I was put in this space with water and a guy who looked a lot like my dad, but he wore these white clothes and called himself the Creator out of all things- I mean I have seen god and god is not him I shall have you know, anyways I-”

“Woah, woah, woah, WAIT!” You comment, racking your brain as horror coats your features, your spear clashing against the floor as you place your hands on her cheeks, moving her eyes to your own as you ensure the seriousness of your next question, “You have met THE god?” 

“He was there for my birth and well… the day of your death. I was too young to remember anymore, you would have to ask dad but…” Charlie conines to ramble, you fade out of reality, feeling your socks becoming yet, clouds flickering in Hell's skies before you drop your hands from her face and grip your head with stress. Becoming out of breath, Charlie soon slows her speech as you pick up on what she has to say once more, “...so I made the deal and now I owe him my dreams till Adam is dead.” She finishes as you grip the back of the couch, eyes starting past her head and into the kitchen window where heaven sits gleaming mockingly in your face. 

“I think it's time for you to catch some rest, I will be there with you in a moment… there's a few words I wish to share with your dealmaker,” you state with vice as Charlie swallows, nodding her head a few times just as the raven flies in through the still opened window, staring between the two of you before making your way upstairs and showing her to your guest room. Charlie clicks her hands together, suitcase flying its way into the room and on her bed as she yawns out, “thank you for letting me stay here,” she says in a small voice while looking down at her feet. 

“Thank you for coming to me when things like this happen,” you reply, pulling her in for one last hug just before you exit your room, once hearing the door close, you exhale a soft breath, a hand of your own trails from your waist, upwards you chest and rests upon your neck- grazing over the golden scar. You step towards your room, hands moving over your journals as you recount each conversation, preparing yourself to enter the dreamworld once again. 

You walk towards your washroom and run a bathtub, knowing you would be unable to sleep in normal ways. Your breath hitches as the tap squeals shut, the bird now taps rapidly against the glass window above your head, beckoning to be let in just as you undress, submerging toes to shoulders in water. You watch the water ripple to intake your form, your hands begin to float in the water as you gradually sink your back deeping into the warm waters.

Snapping your fingers, bubbles fill the tub, flying off towards the window, gleaming in Heaven's light, creating the only natural rainbows to be found in hell. Water now just up to your chin, you take in one last small breath before submerging your head. Your body unconsciously kicks, trying to force more air into your system but you stay, your feet twitch, your lungs scream and just as your nails ding into your skin and a droplet of pain enters your system- you are transported to the otherside. 

--

Your body is wrapped in fine cloth garments, silver patterns are sewn into the fabric in waving lines as you stand at the foot of a bed that houses a sleeping Charlie. You start to move to the side of the bed, raising your hand, just hovering over to tuck her in just as a hand is placed on your shoulder. You stand back upright in an instant, hand dropping and becoming covered in your robes once more as you face forward. Staring off into the horizon as sunlight fades and blues arise from the sea, coating the sky. 

Greetings, the deity calls to you, you feel the warmth of their breath on your skin as it crawls into your ear, making a home in your senses as you become senseless to their powers taking over your form just as the last. Why have you come to the Creator on this fine evening? A smile starts to form across their features, their rosy cheeks taking over your eyes as they expand to hold every pointed tooth in your eyes. 

Why speak, why even think if you already know the answer? You strike back, a hand of theirs now drifting from your shoulder down to your back as they lead you away from Charlie, your feet moving on their own as they spread the very water before you and towards a tea set primed for the occasion. A singular snake following in your robes, teeth latching on to a sleeve as it becomes lost under the waters. You feel its tug but cannot look back as you take your seat beside the deity, their hand now on your knee as they pat it thrice in contemplation. 

Where is the fun, immoral one when another can already speak for me? You roll your eyes in response as the snake now catches the corner of your eye. Its white scales disappear in your garments but hiss towards the man beside you, warning of what you have yet to discover. A question for a question, both never to be answered, you say, gaining control of your head the longer you sit in the waters. The deity still faces forwards, watching Charlie breath, your heart slows realizing the water had been rising but you kept on breathing. 

A choking sound can be heard, you feel yourself thrashing in the bathtub just as Charlie emits a silent scream in her dreams. Stop this, you state, the snake now slithering to rest its head in your hand as your knees begin to shake, you have to stand but their hand still rests on your knee. Their eyes flicker to gold coins, a scoff coming up from the back of their throat. It does not serve you well to beg, dearest, they tut out towards you just as your body shakes in anger. 

You will stop this cruelty this instant, she is young, unknowing in many of the wicked ways we have lived through. You speak, starting to stand, pushing up against the currents as fish swim around our eyes, finns swatting in your face. And just how would you know what I have lived through? They deity questions.

How do you know yourself to be the Creator when Creation itself happened to make you? You question back, their head tips over to you, neck cracking as the night had finally come, the once rosy pinks and orange waters now rich blues mistaken to be black and soulless. Bubbles rise when they laugh, they create waves as Charlie uses these air pockets to breathe. Her arms reach out to you even when she is unable to open her eyes. Her fingers flex and bend in search of comfort and you become distracted. The snake bites into your skin as you hiss out in pain, droplets of gold now rising towards the unseen surface, it glimmers in contrast to the depths of the ocean. 

The snake bites you again, more droplets emerge as they rise above your head and they sliver away with them. Looking upwards, you watch as the snake curls into itself before bursting into the brightest light yet, the supposed god cowers in the display. You take a deep breath in at the sight of the patterns that your blood has created in the darkness you once emerged from. Constellations shown from earth's surface come into view, Orion’s sword and shield fall from the sky and into your hands as you slam the two together. The deity flies backwards from the impulse as you sprint before extending your legs, jumping and crashing into their awaiting fists as the water parts, Charlie falling behind you as she chokes up water. 

Her eyes open, she screams out in warning as the brother rushes up to you, clouds now battle axes as each connection of blades groans on impact. Your muscles ache, your lungs filled with frustration as you fight. Blood drips from their teeth, your smirk seeing their pain as Charlie stands back in horror seeing you so far removed from yourself. She thinks back to the tales her father told her, the depictions of the townsfolk when their version of self emerged in protection of her mother, her father, and now… her. 

Charlie ducks as an axe swings over her head, she watches as your back dips, the blade caressing your chin just as you kick his knee, making him tumble for balance as you place a cut to his arm and later to his chest. Gold pours out in vats as you cry out, cutting through fabric and skin down to bone. Exposing the dead-skin that laid underneath yet you paid no mind to it, even when an emptied hand came to hold your chin as your blade rests under their own. 

You are stunning like this dearest, a true waking dream, their last word echoing as the sky crashes down upon you, sun rises and drying any trace as the ground begins to crack- a desert forming in response to your aching bones as they lay before you, barely able to move. Charlie views the grey skin you had unleashed to the sky, it is a mere replica of the ground she now walks upon, removed of any prior life as fish flap around helplessly at her feet. 

You continuously speak about creations, fate, and now dreams. What are you, for the only object I see now is failure before me. Their eyes close, basking in the light rays just before golden eyes sparkle on their own. They do not show any greed, and promise for truth yet their lips move on their behalf, “I am the spirit of dreams, a heavy branch from the father himself. I twist fate in the most gorgeous of affairs, I bend time on a whim just as I destroy. I can revoke happiness, I can tempt death, I can so I do… until now, until you…” 

Your blade still holds strong against their throat, itching to make the same cursed line to match your own, their hand still rests upon your face, that once comforting feeling now a hollowed caress as they hum out peacefully in thought of their next words. “I have called myself the Creator so as to not confuse you with the many renditions you were before this. We have had a long relationship, a changing one two, you were once my greatest friend, a confidant and even lover…”

A sickness plagues your mind, you don’t recognise the plethora of visions that coat your memory, not feel as your blade shatters against the ground as Charlie moves to hug you, pleading for your return as you stare lifelessly off into the horizon. 

--

You wake in a distant memory. You find yourself in similar robes as you walk along the cosmos, galaxies are your furnishing as they are your being, you drift between them with grace as the stars twinkle and black holes bend to make way for your presence. A hand emerges from the darkened veil of space, a white glove pulls you through and into a home lost to time as a grandfather clock ticks in the background, the hands left unchanging yet it sounds just the same. Teeth smile into your neck, their hands on your waist as you drift between one another and you awake once more.  

--

“NO…” you state, coming back to cruel realities as you hold Charlie's head, comforting the girl by unknotting her hair with your claws as you yourself need to be grounded in some semblance of the current life you live. “Your greatest dream was to always have more time, dearest and I could never deny you of anything in my power. I paused the clocks as long as I could before father came knocking at my door and when the earth went to dream again, I didn't have you to join me. In this all, I had yet to discover my hatred for my brother truly, it was only when I saw you with that ‘King of Hell…’” he speaks the table to such spite as his wounds begin to heal and he stands to full height, hands extended towards you as Charlie blocks their touch with her body. “...I grew that hatred, that jealousy and revoked his dreams. I pleaded for your return and even when I received it… Lucifer always found a way to claw you back into hell, he gave you that extra time when I was unable to...”

“You twist your words…” you say, shaking your head in disbelief as the Spirit of Dreams smile fades to that of a smaller one as their hands drop. “Only when I must, but now I see that there is no longer a need for me to do so,” they say as their eyes drift over Charlie's blonde hair. 

Your eyes begin to feel drowsy as you emit a yawn, feeling exhausted for the first time in weeks and cannot help but feel giddy at the feeling. You watched relaxed as his robes drift off like clouds in the sky once more as a sunset rises from behind you all, an array of reds reminding you of Hell. They chuckle out lightly, their eyes flickering knowingly to your current state as they speak in mere whispers, your eyes fluttering closed. “You are due to wake up any moment now dearest.” 

He nods once towards Charlie, her eyes soon closing once again as she lets out a peaceful sigh, resting on your shoulder. “I am sorry for not dreaming enough for the two of us…” You shake your head at this, starting to fall slowly back into the tub as their voice softly shuts closed their domain. 

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

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[mister-fisch]

Things that have been stuck in my head for the past week Jun 13 -Jun 20 (I probably forgot some lol)

Jun 13

•Um,it's kind of alot-Will Wood

•Against the kitchen floor -Will Wood

•White Noise-Will Wood

•Beatpop Girl-a-thon-Talkshow boy

•The monolog from White Noise-Live at The Vermont Hollywood,Los Angeles,CA

•The Healthy song-DHMIS

•The Vending machine song-DHMIS

•Cicada days-Will Wood

•Blood and bones-Blake Robsinson synthetic orchestra

Jun 14

•Cabinet Man-Lemon Demon

•Ruler of everything-Tally hall

•The monolog from White Noise-Live at The Vermont Hollywood,Los Angeles,CA

•I/Me/Myself-Will wood

•Front street live monolog from the Will Wood Barbecue

•Front Street-Will Wood

•Gilded cog-Jamface

•Coitus with regulations-Jamface

•The waluigi hallelujah parody

•Revenge-Captain Sparkles

•Massah Please-Jamface

•The song with 5 names-Will wood and the tapeworms

•The new year new you eddsworld episode

•We are number one-Lazy town

•Story of undertale

•Against the kitchen floor-Will Wood

•6oh5out(pro/con)-Will Wood and the tapeworms

•Zen master-Jamface

•BlackBoxWarrior(okultra)-Will Wood

•Welcome to the black parade-My chemical romance

•Too many cooks

•I'm not ok-My chemical romance

•Akido(Neurotic Erotic)-Will Wood and the tapeworms

•Hand me my shovel I'm going in-Will Wood and the tapeworms

Jun 15

•Against the kitchen floor-Will Wood

•Don't come knocking-Holy locust

•Willard-Will Wood

•Modify-Lemon demon

•The computer song-DHMIS

•White noise-Will wood

•You didn't know-Hazbin Hotel

Jun 16

•The song with 5 names-Will Wood and the tapeworms

•Black hat from Villianous saying my domain

•Another man's grave-Amigo the devil

•As your father I expressly forbid it-Lemon demon

•White Noise live at the Vermont Hollywood-Will Wood

Jun 17

•Taco Tuesday-Ankle grease

•Coffee,god,and cigarettes-Mischeif Brew

•Roundabout-Yes!

Jun 18

•Lunchbox Friends-Melanie Martinez

•Love me normally-Will wood

•Suppertime-Little shop of horrors

•Feed me(Git it!)-Little shop of horrors

Jun 19

•Love,me normally-Will Wood

•Zen master-Jamface

•Coitus with regulations-Jamface

•If I believed-Twisted:The untold story of a royal vizier

•Letter from death row-Amigo the devil

•Another man's grave-Amigo the devil

•Moth to the flame-LuLuYam

•Against the kitchen floor-Will Wood

•Drop for everyhour-Amigo the devil

•Stuff is way-They might be giants

Jun 20

•Everything and More-Twisted:The untold story of a royal vizier

•"Many years ago,i took my finger,pushed in my penis,and it hasn't come out since"-Twisted:The untold story of a royal vizier

•No one remembers Achmed- Twisted:The untold story of a royal vizier

•Massah please-Jamface

•Broadway Joe-Jamface

And a bonus,the song i woke up in my head this morning,Jun 21: White Noise-Will Wood

[mijonwoods]

Don’t Speak Just Look

Jan, 2025

By Mi’jon L. Woods

Dear Book,

I’m reminiscing over the last poignant moment we had last week before you trashed me…matching stuffed Basquiat Doc Marten shoes and standing for two hours, talking, and sharing a joint outside the Myrtle Avenue stop.

I remember staring at the fallen eyelash under your right eye. I wanted to reach out, and softly sweep it off your cheek but my arms stayed superglued to my sides out of nervousness.

The first time we met I mentioned I was from LA and that triggered you to talk about the most mundane sh*t, you mentioned you liked to stay at the Edition Hotel in Weho in a cloud of name-dropping and asking about my opinion on Hollywood stories. From what I cared to hear, You didn’t go anywhere under Mid-City and that was only to Veg out at the Taco Bell on Venice and S La Brea. But I listened earnestly, you were so incredibly attractive, similar to one of those Terracotta sculptures from 13 BCE that I’ve seen at the MET. Those deep maroon eyes yanked me in and I was swimming in a pool of cinnamon.

Your voice was also sonically, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever trained myself to listen to. It gave me a warm but queasy feeling. Like when I heat up and drink my cheap instant Trader Joe’s coffee mix that’s been sitting in the back of my cabinet for four years. No, you felt more worthy than that comparison…maybe like the Pinot Noir I let go sour a little bit but it was beautiful and made me feel nostalgic so I drank it and let it f*ck up my stomach anyways. My ears became my mouth, turning your stumbled weed rants into a cozy bean bag NPR lecture session. You wore a Marni top that day with some Levi’s you expertly thrifted when we were in Paris this summer. I assessed myself and started spiraling in the process. I wondered what you’d thought of me. Whether I was worldly and pretty enough. If I had worn too little or too much makeup or if my cornrows and nails intimidated you. I began to get nauseated and sweaty at the thought.

When I flew back home to Los Angeles today I scrolled through your Instagram highlights when I got home. My eyes squinted and turned green as I suffered silently on my couch and hugged my Studiolo pillows in comfort. Pictures of people you called your friends, and you made sure to tag them too. A man whose only social merit is Instagram tags…You stopped texting me by that time now.

All I had left was the pile of your clothes in a large decrepit and decorative mountain on the side of my room. Unfortunately, it was one of my favorite things about our encounters. Every time we’d f*ck or make love you’d scoop me up in your arms. In the morning we’d wake up and you’d dress me up in clothes from your closet like a personal doll. We’d both expressed our love through fashion and you dressing me was another version of intercourse.

When you made love to me like I was your soulmate. In the morning you’d bend down to your knees, smell my sex, and button up a crafted and clean Yamamoto or Lauren from the bottom up…and that special, sweaty, sweet, and sticky night in June; When you laid on top of me and gazed into my eyes so nakedly, like a spouse, you brought out your Tom Oldham pants to match the Lauren button up. On nights where you’d opened me up like an exhibitionist…In the morning it was your Gautier, or a see-through Owen’s when you wanted to stare at my nipples and eat when we visited Balzem by your apartment to refuel from the night.

My favorite moments though, ironically, were when we were unclothed. My mom grew up a naked hippie in the 70s and that tradition passed on to her offspring. I walked around naked when I felt comfortable in a space. At first, you looked at me with a mixture of shock, lewdness, and unfamiliarity, then adopted the practice. We often stood face to face, unclothed sweetly smiling into each other’s faces. No designers to interpret your feelings, no labels, no consumerism. In those moments we transcended all layers: body mass, illnesses, ethnicity, addictions, race, class, sexuality, genitalia, and became one.

The knot in my throat stung and grew to the size of a rock-solid apple when I noticed you’d brought out your old archived photos of pictures where you felt magnetic or wealthy and archived the only one of us. A bright yellow Canary ready to sing the song of Singledom. I criticized your posts as I scrolled. The pictures you unarchived, although handsome, were the ones I took and had a woman’s gaze. You were a single Canary, but a domesticated one with a hidden ownership tag thanks to me. Other intelligent females would see it, fluff up their feathers, and remove nesting material.

I began to do the philosophical mental gymnastics to throw you up from my mind and move on. Maybe we didn’t bump into each other on Myrtle Avenue and Grove Street. Maybe we didn’t have all those moments together. The shopping, the clubs, the drugs, the s*x, our apartments in the city and shared red Malboros. Or when you raced your father’s new GTB Fiorano down Avenue de la Costa and in the middle the thrill of Don Toliver versus and wind ripping through our ears, I’d lay my head down in your lap, open my mouth, and love on your skin…that was simply a vulgar hallucination.

The quiet mornings where I would lay on your legs in your work chair in your oversized Lorenzo sweater were fake too. I hated that day when we went shopping and got that sweater. You became obsessed with a specific Ben Shapiro podcast episode and got into “self improvement” and quit coke so you were extra cranky that day. We were at Reloaded on Melrose. I despised how shopping had become such a hunting ground and couldn’t stand it unless I was piss-poor drunk or high. Even though we grew up trust fund babies I hated almost everything about status and consumerism now. I didn’t actively seek it out, I followed whomever made me feel passionate, and helplessly fell into it. If after I picked myself up off the ground from diving off of my mental Petit Jean Mountain, whether it be cabin boys or Hollywood’s elite, it didn’t matter because I was with my love.

You were so assertive, so steady, and sure with the way things were. And didn’t plan on venturing out of our circle. “This is our birthright. Don’t you understand? Our lust, our carnality, was approved by our forefathers. We are descendants of conquerors, owners, cultural movers, and leaders of society. It’s not my fault these side characters of our lives weren’t born into the right family, this is a deal ordained by God. Eat the Nobu, buy the Murakami sculptures for your bedroom, and go visit your horse again for Christ's sake he’s getting lonely in Malibu! Who cares about the bottom of the world when you’re at its zenith? When I go downstairs to eat my breakfast I look at an Alberto Giacometti piece. I don’t give a f*ck about another world.” you said as you stacked up piles of Lorenzo tops and sweaters.

The uncouth speech came out in a seductive Bene Gesserit-esque E2-B1 octave so I rolled my eyes at the ignorance but stood silent and weak-willed. As usual. I thought my love was different so I would change your foundation. Eventually, I hypothesized. You made your way to the front of the boutique and threw pieces and your credit card on the counter. You liked the sound of the hard metal clanking on the marble but rolled your eyes when the sales associate didn’t properly fold the garments into the totes.

Maybe it was all just a dream. A psychological attack I had implanted in my brain by grandiose delusions of love whenever the reality of you was too much to bear. Maybe it was the sign of the times. I logged in on Twitter typed a swift and freeing “BYE N****” posted on my timeline, and logged out.

[indiatrendzs]

Antique Farmhouse Architectural Doors 

restoring old historical homes gives the design and architectural potential to add character with antique architectural doors and salvaged veranda arches.  Genuine authentic Haveli doors, architectural walls and dividers in vivid blues & green, handcrafted in teak wood and the beautiful majestic ornamental doors cladded in brass, treasures from the past can be fully integrated into urban…

[heritagebrowser]

Salon from Hôtel Lambert de Villacerf on display in Musée Carnavalet in Paris.

Paneling of the cabinet of the Colbert de Villacerf hotel

Around 1650

Carved, painted and gilded wood

Acquired by the city of Paris for the Carnavalet museum in 1867

In the 17th century, Parisian hôtels (mansions) of a certain importance had their main apartments paneled – that is to say covered with wall woodwork.

The woodwork of the cabinet of the Hôtel Colbert de Villacerf, built around 1650 in Rue de Turenne, not far from Place des Vosges, was acquired in 1867 by the Parisian municipality and reassembled in the museum around 1913-1914. Rare complete decoration from the mid-17th century, this cabinet constitutes a characteristic example of “French-style paneling”. The decor innovates with the choice of a vaulted ceiling, dethroning the traditional beams and joists or the flat ceiling with compartments. The paneling is divided into panels decorated with a decorative motif: its ornamental language introduces a lot of fantasy mixing the human figure with animals and plants.

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Tremors

“The living room is fully completed, including the personal stuff like the photos you asked for. The dining room will be completed today. There was a delay because the carpet you picked wasn’t available in three of the stores that offered it previously. Anyway, it will be delivered today, and we can finish the dining room then.”

Oliver nodded slowly, listening to Thea’s oral pleadings.

When he had arrived here – here being the Queen Mansion that had been rebuilt in the behest of Felicity years ago – Thea had been ordering the helpers around. She had been completely in her element. Bossing people around, politely even so, had always been her thing. As a teenager, she could have been quite mean, but once she had found a purpose, something reasonable for her to do, she had put all the effort necessary into it. She had helped with Verdant in the first few years of its existence, and now she helped setting up this place for Oliver and his family.

Admittedly, Oliver was feeling a little guilty for having Thea take care of everything. She had offered it herself, but he knew that she was still feeling guilty for not going into the field with the others the night of Rose Blood’s final attack. No matter how often he told her that he understood, she would only smile sadly and say that she wasn’t ready to forgive herself for it.

The truth was that Oliver was grateful that Thea was taking on the task of making this rebuilt mansion ready for them to move in. She was seeing things rather rationally and tried to make it a new home instead of trying to make it resemble the old Queen Mansion or Queens’ last burnt down family home. The first would have been difficult as Felicity had made changes when rebuilding the house in the first play, trying to make it lighter and more family-friendly. The latter had been difficult because the entire style of the house was different from the home Oliver had built for his family.

It had been weeks since he had been released from the prison and pardoned by the president. All that time, he, Felicity and the kids had still been living in the penthouse of the hotel that Bruce had bought, so Felicity and the kids had had a safe place to say. Although it was comfortable there and they had arranged themselves there, it wasn’t a real home. It was just a place to stay, and they all needed to get back into a real home and to their new normal.

Oliver looked around shortly. The foyer that had been covered in dark wood and old, dark furniture back when it had been the original mansion that he had grown up in, was almost unrecognizable. The paneling was simpler and lighter, so were the carpet and the furniture there. It was different than the mansion had been, and it was different than their home had been. But it was a style that he liked, something to get used to and something to feel at home in.

“The floors and walls in the offices are done, so you can choose what to do when you are ready. Since you said they aren’t priority-“

“They aren’t,” Oliver interrupted her, shaking his head. “We have our offices at Queen Incorporated and City Hall, and we can work everywhere. Our priority are the family rooms – living room, dining room, kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms.”

“Raisa is currently filling the kitchen cabinets, and the bathrooms have been finished three days ago. There is only a little bit of decorating missing, but I found a nice local shop whose owner was so thrilled when I told her that I was looking for decoration on your house, and she immediately agreed to come here and decorate the rooms herself.”

Oliver opened his mouth to say something, but Thea lifted a hand.

“Before you say anything, I told her what you like and don’t like, and the ideas that she told me sounded great. And of course I called Felicity, who ran a quick security check on her. I wouldn’t let a stranger into your new home before I knew that the stranger could be trusted.”

He knew she wouldn’t. Oliver smiled gratefully, but Thea just turned back to her report.

“The bedrooms are a little bit more difficult.” Thea turned the page on her clipboard and skimmed the precise lists that she had made to always know where everything was at. “Your bedroom is almost done, but the bed is still not delivered. I checked back with the shop, and it should be here by Wednesday. The furniture for the dressing room is delivered, but the dressers and shelves aren’t set up yet. Even if they are – what would you put in there? You barely have any clothes.”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “We can buy new clothes.”

“Again, not a priority,” Thea concluded from his tone and nodded her head, “understood. If Felicity is ready for a wild shopping spree-“

“-I am sure she will call you.”

“She better does.” Thea grinned, but she turned serious again quickly. “I took Emmy and Tommy here to check the progress on their rooms earlier this week. Unfortunately, Emmy’s room was painted in the wrong color, so we had to redo that one, but we were able to put in some of the furniture yesterday. Emmy will come by again tomorrow, so she can decide if she wants anything placed differently. She also needs to decide on some more decorations. Tommy was happy with his progress, but it turned out that we made a mistake measuring the room, so the planned astronomy corner wouldn’t have fit with the furniture. We sent the furniture back and ordered new ones which should be here by tomorrow or the day after that.”

Oliver nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“William’s room is finished. We will have a video call later today, so he can make sure everything is the way he wants it to be.”

Again, Oliver nodded. He was glad that William had a room in their new house too. Although he wasn’t home that much anymore, Oliver was glad he still had a place in the house. It would feel wrong otherwise. He wanted William to know that he was always welcomed here and that they loved him like crazy.

“Millie’s and Addie’s rooms are still mainly undone. Neither of you has told me yet what the two really want. I sent you the drafts for the rooms, but… no reply.”

Oliver sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Millie and Addie can’t really decide on an idea, and Felicity and I just had so much on our hands lately and…”

Thea smiled at him sympathetically. “I know. I didn’t mean to reproach you. I’m just saying that I need a decision to continue my work.”

“I know. You will have our decision by tomorrow. I promise.”

When Thea was able to start working on Millie’s and Addie’s rooms by tomorrow, they might be able to move in by the weekend or maybe the beginning of the next week, Oliver estimated. That wasn’t too long away, but it wasn’t too close to feel hurried either. They didn’t have much stuff at the hotel as it was, so it wouldn’t be too hard to move. It could be done in a day.

Still thinking about the upcoming change in their life, Oliver caught the hesitant expression on Thea’s face. Perking his eyebrows, he cocked his head.

“Is there anything you aren’t telling me?” he asked. “A murine plague? Must? Safety defect?”

“John, Bruce, Felicity and you certainly turned this into another Fort Knox. I doubt that anyone comes in that isn’t supposed to. I am not even sure anyone will get out of here if you don’t want it.”

“Good to know,” Oliver said, thinking about the kids and the fact that they would grow up into teenagers. He knew the things he had done as a teenager. They had been stupid back then, for his children they could easily be dangerous. “So what else is there?”

Thea looked at her clipboard, pursed her lips and held it out for him.

“It has to be bad,” Oliver joked.

As soon as he took the clipboard from her and looked at the item on her list that was marked with three big question marks, Oliver felt his smile fading from his face though.

Mia’s nursery was written there in Thea’s neat handwriting.

He thought about the mobile he had found in the ruins of their homes. It was the only thing that had been left of Mia’s room, and it was almost the last thing left of her at all. They had their memories and photos, but every other evidence that she had been a part of their lives had been burnt with their house.

Well, of course there was the devastating pain they had been left with too. It wasn’t really visible to anyone else, but that pain was with them all the time. Mia had come into their lives unexpected, but they had loved her just as much as they loved all of their children. She had been left with them because they had been trusted with her.

“I watched the TV interview,” Thea said into the silence. “Felicity is still suffering, isn’t she?”

“We all are,” Oliver whispered, “but we have to move on.”

“There’s no chance you are getting her back?”

Oliver shook his head. “Apparently, our lifestyle is not appropriate for being foster parents.”

Thea shook her head. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not.” Oliver sighed. “But they don’t want to take Mia out of her new foster family either. They think it’s necessary for her to have stability. I can’t argue with that, so…”

Stepping forward, Thea wrapped her arms around Oliver and hugged him tightly. Oliver wrapped his arms around Thea in return and sighed once more.

He remembered how hard it had been to learn how much time of William’s life he had missed when he had learned that he had had a son for years. In some way this was worse because he knew what a short time of Mia’s life he had been able to be a part of. There wouldn’t be more. At least with William, he had always known that they had an entire future to look forward to and to make up for the time they had missed out on.

With Mia, all they had was their past.

→ → → → →

“At the time Oliver turned himself in, we were fostering the little girl that was abandoned outside of the Smoak & Queen Science Center. We fell in love with her instantly. It felt like there was a reason why she was placed right where we would find her. The social worker that was responsible for her told Oliver that the little girl would have quite some troubles to find a family to take her in. Even in foster care, it wouldn’t be easy for her. The media had already taken interest in her, and her health issues might shy away possible adoptive parents too. That is how Oliver and I made the decision to take her in. It was a difficult process, especially emotionally. Living with the fear that she might be taken away from us because her biological family would want her back or because we would be seen as unfit to take care of her was difficult.” Felicity took in a trembling breath. “We were afraid of getting our hearts broken when she would be taken away. And she was. In the process of-“

The recording of the interview stopped on Felicity’s face. Her eyes were filled with tears, a single one rolling down her cheek. The stress and pain of talking about her loss was all too visible. It was a heartbreaking image, one she had seen a few times too often these last days.

Shaking her head, Felicity muted the TV and went back to cuddling Hawk. He was lying on his side in front of her, his back pressed to her front. Felicity snuggled her face into his fur and closed her eyes.

It had been a week since the interview had been broadcasted. Ever since she had seen herself crying about the loss of her youngest child at least five times a day. That snippet of the interview had been broadcasted on TV multiple times, and it was shown on every gossip website too. Everyone on social media seemed to be talking about it too. Since everyone in the city seemed to have watched the interview, she had been looked at with a lot of sympathetic expressions in the eyes.

All she had wanted to do was watching the news and of course the first piece had been about that interview. It should have been about a lot more than their loss. It should have been about the new beginning for the city, the new transparency about what they were doing and how they were doing. It should have been about Starling City’s future. Now that seemed to be a little, almost forgotten fragment of what that interview had been about.

Blinking through one eye, Felicity tried to figure out if any important local news had started yet. She found a reporter, an elderly man whose name she had forgotten, reporting from in front of the Office of Children and Family Service. Behind him, she could see protestors.

Felicity sat up and unmuted the TV.

“…since early this morning. We have talked to some protestors who explained that their main reason for gathering here is to show loyalty to the Queen Family. Oliver Queen, one of them said, was ready to give up his freedom to save this city. He thinks that the least people can do for the man that turned this city into a real union is to show up in support and fight a fight that he himself might be too tired fighting.”

The image changed. Instead of the reporter, a group of protestors were shown now. They held up signs, saying Bring Mia back! and He gave us our city. Now give him his baby. or We trust them with the city, why not trust them with a baby?

“The CPS did not respond to any of our requests for an interview so far and-“

Felicity switched off the TV and just stayed sitting on the couch without moving for a moment. Hope had sparked inside of her, and Felicity hated that. She had hated that Mia wasn’t with them, but she had accepted that there was nothing to be done about that. That was why hope was dangerous.

When the elevator that led to the penthouse opened with a quiet sound, Hawk jumped over the back of the couch and ran to welcome Oliver back home.

“Hey, Buddy,” she heard him say, “what would you think about a run? I could need a good run.”

Hawk barked in response, making Oliver chuckle.

Felicity lifted her hands and rubbed them over her face. The sooner she forgot about this report, the better. She would just have to pretend like she had never seen it in the first place.

Putting on a smile, she breathed out slowly once more and turned to follow Hawk to the specious entrance area where the elevator was. Oliver was standing there in his suit, the jacket tossed away and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. Hawk had climbed up on him, his forelegs hanging over Oliver’s arms and his head snuggled against Oliver’s chest while he was petting him.

As soon as Oliver lifted his head and his eyes met Felicity’s, she frowned and cocked her head. He rarely ever looked tired. Today he did though.

“What’s wrong?”

They asked the question at the same time as Oliver must have seen the same tiredness in Felicity’s eyes. Chuckling softly, Oliver set Hawk’s forepaws back on the ground. He crossed the distance towards Felicity and wrapped his arms around her body tightly then. Felicity leaned her head against his chest, closed her eyes and breathed him in. With Oliver here, everything was easier and she just felt at home. Even in this still quite cool and impersonal penthouse.

She hummed contently, wrapping her arms around Oliver’s middle loosely. His heartbeat was slow and firm, just the way it should be. Whenever she took the time to listen to it, she realized why he had to like sleeping his ear pressed to her chest so much. There was something incredibly soothing about listening to the heartbeat of the person you loved.

“Are you okay?” he asked with whispered voice and placed a kiss to the crown of her head.

“I am now.” Felicity snuggled herself a little more into his arms before she leaned her head back to look at him. “You?”

“Okay now.” He smiled at her softly before dipping his head forward and placing another kiss on her forehead. “I’ll make dinner. You can tell me about your day in the meantime.”

He tightened his arms around her briefly before he let go of her. His hands moved to her back, back up and down her arms to her hands. He tangled his fingers with her and pulled her with him towards the kitchen. Hawk followed, surely hoping to be used as a tester for everything that would go into the meal.

While Oliver was already gathering everything he needed for tonight’s recipe, Felicity poured both of them a glass of wine.

“Where are the kids?” Oliver asked, getting a knife to chop the vegetables.

“Emmy is meeting with Priya and Rosalie. Tommy and Millie are in their rooms. Addie is at ballet.”

Oliver nodded without looking up. “So, how was your day?”

“Unspectacular,” Felicity replied with a shrug of her shoulders. She didn’t want to talk about it. If she said more, she worried that she’d tell him about the reports. It was the least she wanted to do. “How was your visit at the house?”

The house. Felicity wasn’t quite ready to call it a home. Back when she had decided to rebuild the mansion and maybe live there one day, everything had been different. She hadn’t been used to live in a home that was completely hers and Oliver’s. Now that she was, it felt a little weird to move into the old Queen Family Mansion, even if the changes she had made back then and the changes that had been done in the last weeks made it a completely different property.

“Good.” Oliver looked at her briefly and smiled. “I think we can move in ten days to two weeks.”

Felicity perked up her eyebrows. “Thea must have put a lot of work into it.”

“I think she has worked on it every free hour.”

Although Felicity hadn’t really expected anything else because Thea always put all the effort into things that were important to her and this was important to her.

“Great. I think it’s time that we move out of here and into a real home again. We need to settle a real new normal.”

“Agreed.”

Sipping at her wine, Felicity watched Oliver closely. He was very focused on chopping the vegetables which she found weirdly suspicious because she had watched him cook like a million times before, and she knew that he could chop blindly.

“You have heard about the protests, right?”

Now Oliver lifted his head and looked at her with a frown. “What protests?”

Apparently, she had been wrong, Felicity realized, pressed her lips together and rolled them over her teeth. Oops.

“Nothing.” Felicity shook her head and took a gulp of the wine. “Just forget about it.”

Oliver chuckled, putting the knife down and crossing the distance towards her. He came to stand behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. He swayed her from side to side lightly.

“What protests?” he asked.

With a sigh, Felicity leaned back against him and put a hand to forearm on her stomach. She was sure that telling him about these protests would ground her again. It would help her accept that each and every spark of hope that Mia could come back to them would only add to the pain of accepting that Mia wasn’t coming back. She didn’t want to make Oliver’s heart break though.

“Felicity.” He said her name slowly and syllable-by-syllable. It was his way of saying that she wasn’t getting out of this. She had to tell him whether she wanted to or not because he wouldn’t let it go. “Tell me.”

Another sigh escaped her lips before she turned around to him and explained, “Apparently, some protestors have gathered in front of the CPS. They want Mia to be given back to us.”

Although Oliver tried not to show any reaction to her words, Felicity could see the emotions flickering over his face. There was hope for a split second, followed by worry, pain and finally worry again.

“Felicity.”

“I know.” Felicity clicked her tongue, shook her head and turned away from Oliver. She went to the opposite side of the counter and continued chopping the vegetables that he had left there before. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

With held breath and biting down on her tongue, Felicity continued to chop the vegetables and waited for Oliver to say anything. He was about to when-

“Is Mia coming back?”

Oliver and Felicity both turned their heads to see Millie standing in the door, looking at them with her soft eyes. Oliver shot a brief look back at Felicity before he approached Millie and kneeled down in front of her, so they could look eye-to-eye.

“No, Millie.” Oliver shook his head and reached out his hands to take Millie’s in his. “Mia is not coming back. She is with a new family who will take good care of her.”

“But it was my birthday wish.”

Felicity had to fight the tears that threatened to well in her eyes. Even without having Milie explain what she meant, she knew it.

“I wished for Mia to stay with us,” she explained anyway, “so why doesn’t she?”

Oliver pulled at Mia’s hands until she was in his arms. He hugged her tightly, just like he had hugged Felicity before. Millie snuggled into his arms and released a long, sad sigh.

“Mia is with a new family,” Oliver repeated, “and that’s okay. All we ever wanted was for Mia to be healthy and happy, didn’t we?”

“And to stay with us.”

True, Felicity thought, but they couldn’t tell Millie that. It was hard enough for her to understand why Mia couldn’t stay with them. If Oliver and Felicity added to the confusion, it would be even harder for her.

“If I was taken away from you, would you just let me go?”

Felicity felt the air being sucked from her lungs and her heart being clenched down on until it had no more room to beat. If she had thought that her heart had been broken before, it was completely shattered now. She had always thought of herself as a mother who had an eye for the thoughts and feelings of her children. Today she seriously questioned her opinion of herself.

Of course she had known that Mia’s sudden disappearance from the family had been hard on the kids. She had known that they were sad and that they couldn’t really understand why that decision had been made or at least why Mia wasn’t taken back to them now that Oliver was back with them. Until now, the thought that their reaction to Mia’s removal caused them to think such unthinkable thoughts.

“Of course not.” Oliver pushed at Millie’s hips lightly until she was standing in front of him, and he could look her in the eyes. “We would never just let you go and be okay with that. We would fight until you were back home with us.”

“But not for Mia?”

Millie looked at Oliver for a long moment. He didn’t have an answer for her. Neither had Feliciy. So Millie probably made her own answer of that, turned around and walked away.

The silence Oliver and Felicity were left in was deafening. Felicity doubted that she’d feel worse if Millie had cried and screamed at them and just told them that she hated them. This was at least just as bad.

→ → → → →

When the alarm went off, Felicity felt Oliver rolling onto his side and switching it off. With a sigh, he turned back on his back again and looked at the ceiling just like she was. She hadn’t caught any sleep last night, and there was no use asking Oliver. He had been lying in bed next to her and brooded at least as loudly as she had.

“We need to talk to Millie again today,” Felicity said quietly, still looking at the ceiling.

“I know.” Oliver sighed. “I have been trying to find out what we could tell her, but nothing has come to mind. Have you thought about anything reasonable?”

“We will tell her that we have tried to get Mia back, but that we just don’t have many rights because we aren’t her legal parents. With her, that is different. We have more rights and we would use them to fight until she was back home with us.”

Oliver didn’t have to say anything for Felicity to know what he was thinking. Was that really enough to convince Millie? Would she understand and accept this answer? Felicity doubted it, and she knew Oliver was thinking the same.

There had been a lot of impossibilities in their lives, and they had always fought against it until they had succeeded. This time, they had made a few calls, met a couple of people and that had been it.

“I will make breakfast.” Felicity rolled to the edge of the bed and put on one of Oliver’s large hoodies that had been discarded on the floor. “Take your time with the shower.”

It was her way of telling him that she wanted a moment for herself, and she knew that Oliver would agree.

Felicity went to the kitchen barefoot and headed right for the coffee machine. Smiling, she found that Oliver had prepared it before they had gone to bed last night already. He had known already that she would need that coffee first thing in the morning.

With the mug of hot coffee between both of her hands, she went to the kitchen island, rested her elbows on the counter and closed her eyes for a moment as she breathed in the smell of coffee. She wasn’t surprised that the scent didn’t relax her as much as it usually did. It was a lot to ask of coffee to take away worries like hers.

She was about to try and distract herself by preparing breakfast when one of the smaller alarms she had set up for the security went off. Frowning, she went over to the nearest display and found that the elevator was being used. There were no signs of a break-in, but since she hadn’t been informed of a visitor by any member of the security team, she guessed someone must have sneaked past them.

Well, at least that would get her mind off the conversation she would have to have with Millie later today.

Felicity took her tablet and called up the control panel for the penthouse. She was already about to stop the elevator when she decided to take a quick look at the footage from inside the elevator first-

and felt her heart stop beating.

The entire world seemed to stop around her. Time froze and refused to continue. Felicity felt unable to move, unable to think. She was unable to do anything but stare.

Only Oliver’s quick steps behind her made time go on again. She turned around to him, still feeling trapped in time, only able to move very slowly. Oliver was standing there in jeans and a white shirt, his muscles tense, his face worried.

“The alarm went off,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

Felicity opened her lips to say something, but no sound came out. She tried again, but the result was the same.

In that moment, the quiet pling! of the elevator made Oliver turn around and hurry to the entrance area to face the intruder. It took a moment until Felicity could convince her feet to follow Oliver.

And there they were. The elevator doors were already closing behind Mrs. Wheeler, who was holding a bouncy Mia in her arms.

Oliver and Felicity just stared at the visitors, neither of them able to speak. Again, it felt like time had been frozen though Mia didn’t seem trapped in time. She went back and forth between babbling to her stuffed sloth behind her pacifier and squealing at Oliver and Felicity. Mrs. Wheeler just smiled softly, not saying a word. She didn’t seem to be frozen in time either, Felicity realized, but rather just patiently waiting for them to process this visit.

“Mrs. Wheeler,” Oliver was the first to find his voice again, “what are you doing here?”

Mrs. Wheeler’s smile grew even softer. “You might have heard about the protestors that have been taking up position in front of our offices?”

“Yes, it was on the news.”

“Well, they called our offices at least a hundred times since early last morning to talk about this case, so my boss eventually decided to call in an emergency meeting and revisit this case.”

Only now Felicity realized that she wasn’t breathing and sucked in a much-needed breath. She believed that she understood what Mrs. Wheeler was trying to tell her, but she didn’t dare to hope. That hope she had felt yesterday when she had heard about the protests had already been too much.

“I- I don’t think I understand,” Oliver said, his voice shaking slightly. “What are you saying?”

As if she had understood what was being talked about, Mia leaned forward in Mrs. Wheeler’s arms, reached out her hands in on Oliver and Felicity’s direction and said, “Mama. Dada.”

“I couldn’t have said it better.”

Mrs. Wheeler crossed the distance towards Oliver and Felicity. Since Mia’s arms were still reached out for them, Felicity automatically lifted Mia into her own arms and held her against her chest. Immediately, Mia’s face brightened with a wide smile, and Felicity felt her breath getting shaky.

“Before you outed yourself to be the Green Arrow, we thought of you as the perfect family for Mia,” Mrs. Wheeler explained, “but after you turned yourself in, we had to react. The president pardoned you though, so the reasons for taking her away have actually been erased.”

“But you said-“

“I know.” Mrs. Wheeler’s smile turned almost a little sad. “We said that Mia needed stability more than anything, and we still think so. I was finally able to make everyone see that Mia finds stability in you more than in anything or anyone else though.”

Mia clutched her sloth to her chest and leaned her head against Felicity’s chin with a sigh. Felicity kissed her forehead and pressed her nose against the top of Mia’s head. Her arms tightened around her. Even if someone tried to take her away from her again, she wouldn’t let them.

“And her foster parents?” Oliver asked, taking a step close to Felicity and rubbing his hand up and down Mia’s back. “What did they say?”

“Their report about Mia’s time with them actually made most of my colleagues agree to bring her back to you. They told them about how restless Mia was. She didn’t like to eat much and she-“

“Mia!”

At the excited exclaim behind her, Felicity turned around to find Millie standing there. The five-year-old ran towards her parents and her youngest sister. When Felicity kneeled down on the floor, Millie hugged Mia tightly and peppered her face with kisses that made Mia giggle.

The loud noises seemed to wake the rest of the kids. One by one, they came from their rooms, saw Mia and joined the reunion on the floor of the entrance area until they were all sitting there. Mia was in the middle of it all, slightly overwhelmed, but obviously very happy. Only Oliver was still standing, looking at the scene before him like he couldn’t process.

“I will give a moment to enjoy as a family,” Mrs. Wheeler said, “if you could just tell me where to wait, so we can discuss the next steps for Mia’s adoption.”

“The kitchen,” Oliver suggested, gesturing towards it, “there is coffee and-“

“I’ll be fine.” Mrs. Wheeler smiled once more before she turned and left to go.

While the kids were still telling Mia how much they had missed her and how much she had missed in these last weeks, Oliver just watched them. Felicity knew how he felt because she was feeling the same. If she hadn’t felt Mia’s heartbeat against her chest a couple of minutes ago, she wouldn’t be able to process this at all either. Even now she was scared that she would just wake up and all of this had just been a dream.

When Felicity reached out a hand for Oliver, he took it and let himself be pulled down on the floor with the rest of the family.

“This feels like a dream,” he whispered what she had thought before and finally turned his head to look at her. “Is it?”

Felicity shook her head and squeezed Oliver’s hand. “This is real. Mia is back with us.”

Her words seemed to be what he had needed. A smile spread on Oliver’s lips and he put an arm around Felicity’s shoulder to pull her into a tight hug. They had been lucky before because they had gotten out of that impossible situation that Blood Rose had put them through. Now with Mia back with them, they were more than lucky. They were experiencing the highest form of happiness one could feel. This was what it had to be to be truly and implicitly happy.

[bignaz8]

The amazing story of Tovrea Castle in Phoenix Arizona and the shattered dreams of the man who built it.

In 1903 Frederick and Lizzie Warner homesteaded 160 acres of land and built their home on a beautiful hilltop in the desert southeast of Phoenix along VanBuren Avenue and 52nd street. Along with their son they eventually held title to 320 acres and in 1928 Lizzie sold 277 acres of that homestead to Alessio Carraro.

Alessio Carraro, an Italian immigrant and San Francisco businessman came to Phoenix with his family in 1927. Carraro had hoped to develop a prestigious hotel and resort when he purchased 277 acres of prime desert land from the Warner family east of Phoenix in 1928. He saw great potential in the property, which offered beautiful mountain views and fronted the main route from Phoenix to what was once the popular Papago Saguaro National Monument.

Carraro's plan for the land was to build a grand hotel and use it as the center piece of a first-class residential development that would be called "Carraro Heights." The hotel, he dreamed, would provide him a steady flow of potential home buyers.

The hotel, which took the shape of a three-tier castle, was built without any specific plans. Carraro made it up as he went along. Two granite knolls were leveled with dynamite and a third was blasted open to form the bed for the basement. Much of the granite was crushed and made into concrete blocks for the foundation. The building was framed with wood and covered with stucco sheathing.

Inside, Carraro went for many recycled materials. The maple flooring throughout the hotel came from a house in Phoenix that was being torn down. The kitchen cabinets were made from mahogany and oak salvaged from the Phoenix National Bank, which was being remodeled. And, a vault from the bank was turned into a basement wine cellar.

Outside, Carraro had developed a spacious desert garden, filled with more than 300 different varieties of desert plants.

The hotel was just about finished as the 1930 Christmas season approached. Carraro celebrated by installing 1,000 red, green, yellow and blue lights on the split-rail fence that surrounded the property and topping the arched gateway with a 10-foot electric tree. The display won The Arizona Republic Newspaper’s holiday decorations contest and the newspaper called the entry a "brilliantly lighted castle in the desert." It was the first time the building was publicly referred to as a castle, a label that would last to this day.

Alessio Carraro's dream of a resort hotel and a subdivision of fine homes was shattered a few months later. For some time, Carraro had tried unsuccessfully to buy the 40 acres adjacent to his land that would serve as an important buffer between his property and a stockyard and the meat packing plant of Edward Tovrea. Edward Tovrea and his wife Della secretly wanted to buy Carraro’s castle and use it for their home. When the acreage finally was sold, it went not to Carraro, but to the owner of the nearby packing company, Edward Tovrea.

Tovrea promptly put up sheep and goats pens on the 40 acres right next to Carraro’s castle. That was the end for Carraro’s dream. He realized that no one would want to stay in a hotel, buy land and build a nice home next to a flock of sheep. All attempts to negotiate with Edward Tovrea and his wife Della were futile. In June of 1931, Carraro accepted an offer from a real estate agent for his castle, the hotel and much of the property. Unknown to him, the buyer was none other than Della Tovrea.

The Tovrea’s quickly turned the castle hotel into their home and moved in before the end of the year. The following year however, Edward Tovrea suddenly died. Della later married William Stuart, the publisher of the Prescott Courier, and they lived in the home until his death in 1960.

Della stayed on living in the castle alone. She always had a terrible fear of someone breaking in and locking her in the big safe that Carraro had gotten from the Phoenix National Bank. Della had workmen remove the doors from that safe so she could never be locked inside.

One dark and cold winter night in 1969 two men did break into the castle and surprised Della in her kitchen. Della struggled and was beaten and one of the men fired a shot at her which thankfully missed. The bullet hole can still be seen today in the kitchen. Della in a panic ran outside in the frigid cold and rainy night to ring the caretakers bell. Then she hid for hours outside in the elements. Della caught pneumonia that night and died a few weeks later on January 19th, 1969.

Relatives of Edward Tovrea moved into the castle following Della’s death and lived there for many years.

Today, the interior of the castle is virtually as Carraro constructed it. It appears to have been marred only by areas of deterioration from water damage, vandalism and, in some cases, the removal of small items such as door handles. The exterior, too, is generally intact, but suffered from years of neglect. Most of the window sashes have been replaced with single pane reflective glass and two additional layers of stucco surfacing have been applied to the original walls.

In 1994 the city of Phoenix drew up development plans for the castle to include a fully restored first floor that would illustrate how each room would have been used as a hotel and how it actually was used as a home. Historical artifacts were obtained as they were located. And, today there are tours and exhibits of the castle for visitors.

For nearly 90 years now, the grand Tovrea Castle has stood out among Phoenix historical and architectural wonders. Thousands have admired it from afar, awed by the imposing picture it forms atop a small desert hill in the heart of an urban setting. Few were ever beyond its fenced surroundings and permitted inside its granite walls. Today, visitors can enjoy the castle in all its splendor.

The city of Phoenix, which acquired the landmark and some of its adjacent property in 1993, came up with an exciting plan to open the three-tiered castle and the sprawling Carraro Cactus Gardens that surround it to the public.

Work to restore two of the historic garden sections at the Tovrea Castle were completed in August 2000. The city restoration has transformed one of the sections back to the Carraro era with its dense cactus plantings and varied species. The other garden area has been restored back to the Tovrea area featuring a reflecting pool, patio and formal garden.

The garden restoration work was completed in 2000. Exterior restoration of the Castle itself was completed in 2001. The ambitious plans, developed by the city's Historic Preservation Office and Parks, Recreation and Library Department, included three key elements -- the purchase of as much of the 43-acre compound as possible, the restoration of the castle and the redevelopment of the gardens.

Alessio Carraro, an Italian immigrant saw great potential for development and tourism in 1928 when he visited the area east of Phoenix in search of a business venture. His dream was shattered by a flock of sheep and the Tovrea- Stuart family left all of us a historic landmark for everyone to enjoy today.