#and anders in plaid

[andiee-bedroom]

Solasmancers, why do we all agree that Solas wears turtleneck…

and why does he look SO good in it

[historical-hollywood]

The Ken Murray Show, 1952

Photo caption: STREAMLINED GLAMOURLOVELIES Ken Murray, star of CBS-TV's "Ken Murray Show," and his famous Glamourlovelies (l.-r., Joan Shea, Lillian Farmer and Cathy Hild) are the headliners when the Electric Auto-Lite Co. previews a special automobile show on CBS-TV, in place of its regularly scheduled "Suspense" program, Tuesday, April 1, 9:30-10:00 PM, EST. Gun-totin' Laurie Anders, who prefers the "w-i-i-d-e open spaces," will be there, too.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

This is what I have for the ‘Harry is Adopted’ AU. I wrote it with the thought of the events in Havenfall is for Lovers already occurring but I have a minor thought of changing it so that the plot runs differently.It would have the MC aged up a fair amount. Not sure. I also have the idea of changing whom MC gets with. Again not sure. I like how this flows though.

A week after the Dueling Club, things hadn’t gotten any better for Harry. People still whispered and stared at him with some even running from him. He sighed, sitting in the common room as one first year outright ran up the stairs.

“Can this get any worse?” He asked out loud. Hermione sighed.

“Don’t say that Harry.” She scolded.

“Yeah mate. Otherwise you’re going to jinx yourself,” Ron said as he frowned at his essay. “I can’t remember how the dancing leg spell thing goes.”

“It’s-“ Hermione began when the door to the common room opened. Professor McGonagall stepped inside, looking around until she spotted Harry.

“Mr. Potter, can you come with me please?” She called. Every head in the common room snapped to Harry who groaned.

“I’m not the Heir.” He complained even as he got up.

“It’s not about that Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said. Harry didn’t believe her, instead simply following her. They walked through the halls for some time before reaching a gargoyle statue. “Sherbet Lemon,” McGonagall said. The statue turned and began to create a staircase. Both Harry and McGonagall got on it.

It’s kind of like an escalator, Harry mused as they were lifted up. At the top of the stairs when they reached it was a large office filled with silver trinkets and books. In the office behind a large desk sat Professor Dumbledore. In front of the desk was Madame Pomphrey, two men in red robes, a green robed witch and a woman dressed in a purple plaid shirt and blue jeans. When Harry took a step into the office the woman turned around. She was brunette with blue eyes behind a pair of square glasses. She had her long sleeved shirt open to reveal a purple T-shirt underneath. She looked at Harry with wide eyes.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Professor Dumbledore said. The others turned as well, looking curious. “These are Aurors Shacklebot and Boot, along with Healer Anders.” He motioned to the robed people. “And this is Megan Davis. They’re here due to the rumours of Parseltounge.”

“I’m not the Heir of Slytherin,” Harry said instantly. Davis, the purple shirt woman, grinned. Just a little.

“Well actually you might be.” She joked. Harry frowned at her. “What I mean is I’m a Squib descended from Slytherin. When I heard rumours about Parseltounge I thought to come and see if you’re related to me. As far as we know from our records there was only two lines of Slytherin that survived. Mine and another.” She shrugged. “Rather know now then not yeah?” Harry stared at her, shocked. He might have family other then the Dursleys?

“It will be a quick spell to see if you’re related,” Madam Pomphrey said. “Then Healer Anders here has a potion to determine how related you both are if it comes back positive.”

“The Aurors here are just to make things legit and have us all square away,” Davis said cheerfully. Professor Dumbledore nodded, eyes twinkling as Pomphrey waved her wand over Davis.

“Propinqui Revel,” the nurse said. A bright light covered Davis and then a strand of it shot out to Harry, causing him to glow. Dumbeldore jerked slightly, eyes wide as McGonagall gasped. “A blood relation.”

“Really?” Harry asked in a whisper. He looked at Davis whose eyes had widened even more, a look of something crossing her face.

“We have the potion, correct?” She asked, her voice shaky as she stared at Harry. He stared back, wondering if the reason she held his gaze like she did was due to her own desire for family.

“Indeed,” the green robes woman said, pulling what looked like a mason jar out of her robes. ��A bit of blood from you both will show the exact relation.”

Davis, or well Megan now since they were related and it meant that maybe Harry could get away from the Dursleys, calmly held out her hand.

“Squib, you need to cut it. Or well I have a pocket knife but that’s not to sanitary.” She said to the healer who chuckled. The healer cast a small spell to cut the other’s finger to drip a few bare drops into the potion as Harry approached, a bit to quickly. But he wanted to know. He needed to know.

Another spell later, and Harry’s blood joined Megan’s. He looked into the potion eagerly, as it began to bubble and turn before a words appeared written in foam.

Mother and son.

“WHAT?!?” Harry shouted, as did the healer. Megan just closed her eyes and breathed out.

“How?!” Healer Anders cried out. “He’s Harry Potter!”

“My son was kidnapped when he was a five months old.” Megan said in a broken tone. “That’s the real reason I came- I knew he was magical and hoped I could find him.”

“Kidnapped?!” Shacklebot yelled. Harry decided right there and then to sit down. Right on the floor.

He really needed a moment.

-0-

Megan Davis was thirty-two years old and had Harry when she was nineteen. She’d been travelling she told him, wanting to take a year or two before starting university.

“I grew up in a small town called Havenfall in Indiana. I was bisexual, and my parents had died mysteriously which just made me a freak.” Megan explained as they sat in the Headmaster’s office. “My grandmother raised us and while I loved her I felt… stifled. So I took off. Travelled all over the USA, went to Mexico, wandered up to Canada. That’s where I met your dad actually.”

“Who is he?” Harry asked her eagerly.

“His name is Mark Gibson. We dated for a few months but found frankly we didn’t actually like each other that much.” Megan shrugged. “We went our seperate ways and then a month later I found I was pregnant with you. It excited me honestly. I always wanted kids and wasn’t sure if I’d ever settle down. I just… had a hard time connecting that way.”

“And I was taken.” Harry said softly.

“Yes. I gave birth to you while travelling and man it was HARD travelling with a baby let me tell you. Then my grandmother passed and I went back to Havenfall. That’s where you were taken.” Megan let out a shuddering breath. “A month after I moved back to care for my sister you vanished. We tried and tried to find you. We couldn’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how it happened.”

“… did the Potters-“

“No!” McGonagall said in horror at the thought while Megan shrugged.

“I don’t know. We may never know Harry. They could have, but illegal adoptions and infant kidnapping aren’t that rare in America. As well at the time I was unaware I was a Squib or magic was real. It’s possible that some wix criminal found you and decided to grab a muggleborn to give to magical people.” Megan shrugged. “We may never know Harry. Perhaps they did. Perhaps they knew the adoption was illegal. Perhaps they were lied to. Unless we can find something saying otherwise…”

“We will never know.” Harry said.

“Exactly. As well, don’t tarnish your memories of your adoptive parents. Sometimes good people do bad things. Doesn’t mean they stopped being good.” Megan shrugged again. “People are much more complicated then good and evil.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, mind whirling.

“I mean that really, good and evil are terms made up,” Megan explained. “Good, bad, light, dark- they’re all just made up in the end. All it comes down to is if you harm another or mean to do harm. And there’s one only thing completely unforgivable. Everything else… eh.” Megan shrugged. Something about how she said it slithered in Harry, making him just know she spoke the truth.

“Soul-“ Boot began, almost compelled.

“No.” Megan shook her head. “Rape. That is the greatest sin and the most horrific crime one can do.”

“Even tearing apart your soul?” Dumbledore asked, a slight scolding tone to his voice.

“You can tear apart your soul in a hundred ways. Killing, having a miscarriage, a near death experience, I can go on.” Megan waved a hand. “But rape? Rape is the most horrific thing you can ever do. It is an act of the greatest depravity in the world. Choosing to do it will damn you right to the blackest pits of hell.”

The finality of her voice convinced Harry even as Dumbledore shook his head, looking disappointed.

“Souls don’t tear like that.”

“I know a lot about souls,” Megan said before she turned back to Harry. “I’m so happy to see you.” She whispered.

Harry smiled, feeling some tears prick in his eyes. “I’m happy to meet you.”

Further snippet

“What… what if…” Harry looked at his mother, completely lost.

“If the Potters lived and found me?” Megan asked gently. “Well for one I’d have agreed to a shared custody arrangement. I loved you dearly but I was very poor at the time. Having help would have been nice. If their wills were read and I got you back way back then… honestly Razi would probably have told me about himself sooner. We’d have figured out how to protect you.”

“I’d have grown up with a happy family.” Harry whispered. Megan didn’t reply.

What could she say?

[sweetmage]

Darktown must be cold as fuck tbh, Anders is wearing so many layers. That Sea Green cropped jacket with the feathers is one. The plaid overcoat under it. Then that grey... smock? Dress? Shirt? And some pants plus those boots.

Even if it's not and he's sweating to death in the muggy sewers it's a small price to pay and that just proves his dedication to the craft (fashion)! ✨ Our boy is a real trendsetter and everyone is SO jealous of his flimsy ponytail and 47 layers of clothing, that's why 95% of apostates in DAI look like clones of him, I think. He's just that stylish! Everyone wants to be him!!

[wytchcore]

tagged by @prim-moth !! ty for tagging me ♡

10 songs/10 people

1. delusionalism by MASS OF THE FERMENTING DREGS

2. Plaid Pants by The Black Tones

3. Black in Every Color by Happy Hour

4. Hole by Bent Knee

5. sardonica by Ada Rook

6. Grenadine by Dreadlight

7. ABNORMAL by MUTANT MONSTER

8. Prime by Roan Martin

9. Nicht Anders Gewollt by Heisskalt

10. So I Don't Feel Useless by Dianna Lopez

tagging... @trans-peridot @calliesquidsister @tiredtree @piratespencil @caedogeist-rights

my mind is blanking on anyones urls so thats it lol

[fabiansteinhauer]

Staatsrechtslehrer beim Italiener

et in pizzeria akropolis staatsrechtslehrer

1.

In dem Film Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid , einem neo-noir mystery thriller gibt es einen running gag: Immer dann, wenn der Privatdetektiv Rigby Reardon das Wort cleaning woman hört, gerät er in Rage und erlebt einen Kontrollverlust. Er schlägt dann um sich und würgt alle und alles, die/was er in die Hand bekommt.

Das bringt ihn, vor allem aber die Frau in seiner Nähe, Juliet Forrest (oder: man sieht vor lauter Wald die Aufklärung nicht) immer wieder in Bedrängnisse. Der Fall, an dem er in ihrem Auftrag arbeitet, hat was mit Carl Schmitt und der Unterscheidung zwischen Freund und Feind zu tun, darüber sterben Leute.

Eine Liste mit Namen der "friends of Charlotta (oder Carl Lotter? Anm. FS)" und der "enemies of Charlotta/ Carl Lotter" flattert auf Zetteln durch die Handlung des Films. Es stellt sich heraus, dass irgendwie Deutsche involviert sind.

Im finalen Schlusskampf gegen die Nazis, die mit Hilfe von überreifem Schimmelkäse die Welt erobern wollen, hat Juliet, nachdem Rigby schon gefangen genommen wurde, einen rettenden Einfall: Jetzt ganz Juliet(te) bringt sie mit nun vollendeter Aufklärung Feldmarschall Wilfried von Kluck erst mit Hilfe von sadomasochistischen Phantasien dazu, das Wort Reinemacherfrau zu sagen und dann ins Englische zu übersetzen: Cleaning Woman!

Cleaning Woman? Zack, Rigby Reardon rast wieder und, zack, ist die Welt zwar nicht vom Dreck, aber vom Bösen befreit.

Man muss Carl Reiner auf ewig dankbar sein, dass er diesen Film gemacht und so mal eben nebenbei dem Verhältnis zwischen Deutschland und Hollywood bis in die perfekte Mischung aus Dialektik und Plottwist hinein ein monumentales Denkmal gesetzt hat.

Biographisch wird es noch verrückter: Diesen Film habe ich das erste Mal in einem Programmkino während eines Familientages der Brandis in Osnabrück gesehen, so verrückt, dass das hier nicht's zur Sache tut.

Was viele nicht wissen: Dieser Film war auch eine Komödie und nicht nur eine Komödie; neben dem allseits bekannten Umstand, dass dies ein Neonoirmysterythriller war, war das auch ein Dokumentarfilm, zeigte also was echt ist. Das ist die posttraumatische Belastungsstörung, die Trigger, die Attacken auslösen und die Attacken: alles echt! Das kann ich bezeugen, habe ich nämlich auch. Bei mir lauten die Codewörter aber nicht cleaning woman sondern Staatsrechtslehrer beim Italiener.

Jahre, in denen ich von Staatsrechtslehrern zum Italiener eingeladen wurde, immer dann, wenn die mit einem eben noch unbefangenen, jetzt aber befangenen und dazu noch betretenen Gesicht vor einem auftauchten, weil sie mitteilen sollten, was eh schon grell ins Gesicht geschrieben stand, die haben mich zu dem Rigby Reardon der deutschen Staatsrechtslehre gemacht, die haben mich zusätzlich hitchcockisiert. Kraut und Rüben haben mich vertrieben, hätt' meine Mutter Fleisch gekocht, dann wäre ich noch geblieben: Ungefähr so, nur mit italienischem Essen und deutschen Staatsrechtslehrern statt mit Rüben und Kraut.

2.

Das sagt einiges über Thomas Vesting aus: Will man mich als Waffe einsetzen und lässt man darum in meiner Anwesenheit die Wörtchen 'Staatsrechtslehrer beim Italiener' fallen, dann hilft als Gegenwaffe nur eins: Jemand muss Thomas Vesting evozieren, seinen Namen fallen oder sein Bild erscheinen lassen. Das neutralisiert mich sofort. Alle Rage löst sich dann in luftigem Wohlgefallen auf. Wenn wir zusammentreffen, fällt die Habituskollision aus, es ist kein Teflon weit und breit zu sehen, und keiner unterstellt, er selbst stünde dem Allgemeinen nahe und näher als Andere. Nichts Staatstragendes behauptet sich. Niemand tut was für die Absicht, ministrabel zu sein. Es gibt zu jeder Gegenwaffe eine Gegenwaffe, schon weil Waffenhersteller Waffen nur deswegen herstellen, damit man was gegen Waffen hat. Diese Gegenwaffe ist Vesting selbst. Wenn der dann im Raum ist und sich doch wie ein Staastrechtslehrer beim Italiener verhält (das kann der), dann gerate ich wieder in Rage.

3.

Das ist so ein Wissen, das man entweder nur seinem Therapeuten anvertraut oder aber ins Internet postet, tertium non datur. Diesen Sommer feiert Thomas Vesting was, das feiere ich mit. Den kenne ich, seitdem er mich einmal in München zum Italiener eingeladen hat. Vorher kannte ich ihn nicht. Er war ein junger Professor in Augsburg, über den in Berliner Bars und Kneipen schon das Gerücht kursierte, er würde nach Frankfurt gehen. Kein Witz. Ich war in Wuppertal, dort junger Anwalt und Sekretär von Bazon Brock, verdiente also mein Geld damit, Leute zu vertreten, darüber hinaus mir von Brock was diktieren zu lassen und ihn ab und zu bei action-teachings zu begleiten (Kuchen und Schnaps von Monika gab es oben drauf). Da ist es unwahrscheinlich, das man sich kennen lernt. Und es faltet sich doch, und wir beide lernten uns doch kennen.

Vesting suchte einen Assistenten, schrieb was in der NJW aus, so kam es zu der Einladung. Das war ein sonniger, warmer Herbsttag. Wir saßen an einer hellverputzten Wand auf dem Bürgersteig, es gab was Leichtes zu essen, wir verputzten auch was. 9/ 11 war gerade erst passiert und bestimmte noch einen großen Teil des Gespräches, das im übrigen geführt wurde, wie ein Quartettspiel: wir tauschten Täfelchen über die Tafel aus, keine Karten, aber unser Wissen über Texte. Wie das Teenies machen, so wollten wir uns abchecken und wissen, was und wen der andere warum gut findet, wen und was man so kennt und schätzt. Ich kann mich nicht an alles an diesem Gespräch erinnern, aber schon an viele Details. Entscheidend sind für mich nicht Form und Inhalt dieses Gespräches, sondern die Unbeständigkeit des Zeitraums, den dieses Gespräch bildete. Das ist eine Unbeständigkeit, die nicht auf Leere und nicht auf Negation aufruht, sie speist sich aus der Art und Weise, wie einen dieser Zeitraum begleitet, auch wenn er vorbei ist. Die Unbeständigkeit speist sich aus dem, was in dem Bestand wechselhaft, homogen und heterogen ist. Diese Zeitraum ist sehr nah und sehr entfernt.

Kommt einem vor, als sei das gerade erst gewesen, als hätten wir gerade unsere Rücken an die warme Wand gelehnt und gerade erst Tomatensauce gekleckert, gerade erst Hallo mein Name ist und Auf Wiedersehen, ich melde mich gesagt. Hohe Präsenz, nur die Stiche , die in dieser hohen Präsenz mitlaufen, sagen zugleich etwas über das Bewußtsein der Entfernung. Die Zeit, bald sie fort ist, nachher kommt sie nicht mehr. Das ist ein Präsenz, also eine Präsenz, die durch dasjenige gegangen ist, was Warburg das Distanzschaffen nennt, das ist also eine symbolische Präsenz. Das erreichen Momente, die berührt haben, was unserer Bewegungsverarbeitungsapparat ist und was manche darum anima, andere Seele nennen. Dieser Zeitraum, Vesting und Steinhauer beim Italiener, der hat das bei mir berührt, intensiv, und so irritiert der Zeitraum bis heute. Das Maß der Nähe und das Maß der Entfernung macht mir Schwindel. Kann doch irgendwie nicht sein, so nah und doch so entfernt. 2001, andere Welt, seitdem sind München und alle anderen Städte von 2001 tot und lange leben alle Städte.

4.

Vielleicht wird es jetzt kurz mal ordinär. Die Form des Zeitraums, den dieses Gespräch bildete (nicht nur für sich, sondern auch für alles andere, was Vesting und mich assoziiert), die ist im Rückblick geschrumpelt wie Pimmel in kaltem Wasser. Schräger Vergleich, aber mir fällt sonst nichts ein, was so schrumpelt. Das war doch ein gut ausgefüllter Zeitraum und jetzt, mit dem schwer kalkulierbaren bis unberechenbaren Maß, mit dem sich Nähe und Entfernung dieses Zeitraums einstellen, ist dieser Zeitraum vielleicht nicht unbedingt ausgeblasen, aber die Stiche melden sich schon auch so, als ob da Löcher wären, als wäre da ein Mangel. Das ging ja jetzt doch alles verdammt schnell, verdammt nochmal schnell. Das sind aber keine Löcher, da ist kein Mangel, man hat nichts verpasst. Wir haben Baudrillard im Kino und Christian Waldhoff in Düsseldorf getroffen, 1:1.

Ich habe es tatsächlich geschafft, ihn nach Weimar zu bringen. Er hat es tatsächlich geschafft, mich zum Mitglied der Vereinigung der deutschen Staatsrechtslehrer zu machen.

Das ist die einzige Regierungsorganisation und NGO (steht in diesem Fall für Nicht Gerade Optimal). Sollte Vesting doch einmal katholisch werden (ich gebe mir alle Mühe!) und jemand das Verfahren einer Heiligsprechung initiieren: mindestens das kommt einem Wunder gleich, dass er das geschafft hat. Ich habe es ihm gedankt, indem ich kurz darauf wieder ausgetreten bin. Er glaubt, ich hätte meine Karriere zerstört, als er mich zu einem Vortrag in München eigekalen hatte, ich glaube wiederum, er hätte seine Karriere zerstört, als ich ihn zu einem Vortrag in Weimar einlud. Wir beide glauben, dass man immer nur selbst für seine Karriere verantwortlich ist - und diejenigen, die einen ablehnen (das hat zuerst er so perfekt formuliert).

Keine Löcher, kein Mangel: alles wurde immer ausgefüllt. Da kreuzt was und da ist etwas, wie Ino sagt versäumt, und das Stechen kommt durch die Bewegung. Der Zeitraum hat jetzt dichte Falten. Vesting feiert in diesem Sommer was. Im Gebäude der KBW, der Kulturwissenschaftlichen Bibliothek Warburg und damit auf einem Boden, von dem sowohl Vesting als auch ich sagen, der sei nicht neutral, da wird in diesem Sommer nicht nur Vesting gefeiert, der aber auch. Ich sage, das ist kein neutraler Boden, das ist mein Boden, der ist, wie man in Frankfurt sagt, mir. Vesting sagt das aber auch. Das ist ein gut bestrittener und gut umstrittener Boden. Wir feiern in dem Saal, in dem Warburgs Staatstafeln entstanden, in dem Warburg seine Gestelle schob und im Sommer 1929 fotografieren liess! Das hat der Ino super eingetütet!

[noorgoossens]

Beddengoed: het geheim voor comfort en stijl in de slaapkamer

Beddengoed is veel meer dan alleen een praktisch onderdeel van je bed. Het draagt bij aan je comfort, slaapkwaliteit en de algehele uitstraling van je slaapkamer. Van hoeslakens tot dekbedovertrekken en kussenslopen, beddengoed is een essentieel onderdeel van je slaapomgeving dat direct invloed heeft op je slaapervaring. Het juiste beddengoed kan je slaapkamer transformeren en je helpen om een goede nachtrust te bevorderen.

In dit artikel bespreken we de verschillende soorten beddengoed, hoe je het juiste beddengoed kiest voor jouw behoeften, en geven we onderhoudstips om ervoor te zorgen dat je beddengoed fris en comfortabel blijft.

Wat valt onder beddengoed?

Beddengoed omvat alle stoffen items die je gebruikt om je bed op te maken. De meest voorkomende onderdelen zijn:

1. Dekbedovertrek

Een dekbedovertrek is een hoes die over het dekbed gaat om het te beschermen tegen vuil en slijtage. Dekbedovertrekken zijn verkrijgbaar in diverse materialen, kleuren en patronen, en kunnen de uitstraling van je slaapkamer gemakkelijk veranderen.

2. Hoeslaken

Een hoeslaken is een laken dat om je matras zit en zorgt voor een zachte, comfortabele laag om op te liggen. Hoeslakens zijn elastisch aan de hoeken zodat ze strak om het matras blijven zitten. Ze zijn verkrijgbaar in verschillende maten en materialen.

3. Kussensloop

Een kussensloop beschermt je kussen en zorgt voor hygi��ne en comfort. Kussenslopen worden vaak verkocht in sets met dekbedovertrekken en zijn meestal van hetzelfde materiaal en ontwerp.

4. Molton

Een molton is een beschermlaag tussen het matras en het hoeslaken. Het beschermt je matras tegen vocht, vuil en slijtage en zorgt voor extra comfort.

5. Dekens en plaids

Dekens en plaids kunnen als extra laag dienen bovenop het dekbed of als decoratief element aan het voeteneinde van je bed. Ze zorgen voor extra warmte in de winter en kunnen een stijlvolle toevoeging zijn aan je slaapkamer.

Soorten materialen voor beddengoed

Het materiaal van je beddengoed speelt een belangrijke rol in het comfort en de duurzaamheid. Elk materiaal heeft unieke eigenschappen die het geschikter maken voor verschillende slaapbehoeften en seizoenen:

1. Katoen

Katoen is het meest populaire materiaal voor beddengoed. Het is ademend, duurzaam en voelt zacht aan. Katoenen beddengoed is ideaal voor zowel de zomer als de winter omdat het vocht absorbeert en temperatuurregulerend is.

2. Percale katoen

Percale katoen is een fijn geweven katoensoort die een matte afwerking en een gladde textuur heeft. Het is lichter en koeler dan standaard katoen en perfect voor mensen die liever in fris, ademend beddengoed slapen.

3. Satijn katoen

Satijn katoen heeft een glanzende en zachte afwerking. Het voelt luxueus en zijdeachtig aan, wat het ideaal maakt voor mensen die van een zachter en warmer beddengoed houden. Satijn katoen is meestal iets warmer dan percale katoen, waardoor het een goede keuze is voor de koudere maanden.

4. Linnen

Linnen is een natuurlijk materiaal dat bekend staat om zijn uitstekende ademende en vochtregulerende eigenschappen. Het voelt iets stugger aan dan katoen, maar wordt zachter naarmate je het vaker wast. Linnen beddengoed is ideaal voor warmere nachten omdat het goed ventileert.

5. Flanel

Flanel is gemaakt van geborsteld katoen en is dikker en warmer dan andere stoffen. Het houdt warmte goed vast en is daardoor perfect voor koude winternachten. Flanel biedt een zacht, knus gevoel dat ideaal is voor wie snel kou vat.

6. Microvezel

Microvezel is een synthetisch materiaal dat zacht, licht en betaalbaar is. Het droogt snel en is minder kreukgevoelig dan natuurlijke stoffen. Microvezel beddengoed is een goede keuze voor wie op zoek is naar budgetvriendelijk en onderhoudsvriendelijk beddengoed.

Hoe kies je het juiste beddengoed?

Het kiezen van het juiste beddengoed hangt af van verschillende factoren, zoals persoonlijke voorkeur, seizoen en comfortbehoeften. Hier zijn enkele overwegingen:

1. Materiaal

Het materiaal van je beddengoed bepaalt het comfort en de temperatuurregulatie. Kies ademende materialen zoals katoen of linnen voor de zomer en warmere stoffen zoals satijn of flanel voor de winter. Als je de voorkeur geeft aan zachter beddengoed, is satijn katoen een goede keuze, terwijl percale katoen ideaal is voor mensen die van een fris gevoel houden.

2. Maat

Zorg ervoor dat je beddengoed de juiste maat heeft die past bij je matras en dekbed. Controleer de afmetingen van je bed voordat je hoeslakens, dekbedovertrekken en kussenslopen koopt. Hier zijn enkele standaard maten:

3. Seizoen

Afhankelijk van het seizoen wil je beddengoed dat past bij de temperatuur. Lichte, ademende materialen zoals katoen en linnen zijn perfect voor de zomer, terwijl je in de winter kunt kiezen voor warmere materialen zoals flanel of satijn katoen.

4. Stijl en kleur

Beddengoed kan de uitstraling van je slaapkamer drastisch veranderen. Kies kleuren en patronen die passen bij de rest van je interieur. Neutrale tinten zoals wit, grijs of beige zorgen voor een rustgevende sfeer, terwijl felle kleuren en prints energie en persoonlijkheid aan je slaapkamer toevoegen.

Onderhoud van beddengoed

Om ervoor te zorgen dat je beddengoed fris en schoon blijft, is regelmatig onderhoud essentieel. Hier zijn enkele tips voor het onderhoud van je beddengoed:

1. Regelmatig wassen

Was je beddengoed elke één tot twee weken om vuil, stof en bacteriën te verwijderen. Gebruik een mild wasmiddel en volg de wasinstructies op het label om de kwaliteit van het materiaal te behouden.

2. Strijken

Strijk katoenen en linnen beddengoed voor een nette en verzorgde uitstraling. Satijn katoen en microvezel kreuken minder en hebben meestal geen strijkbeurt nodig.

3. Drogen

Droog je beddengoed bij voorkeur aan de lucht om krimp te voorkomen. Als je een droger gebruikt, kies dan voor een lage temperatuur om schade aan de stof te voorkomen.

4. Opbergen

Bewaar je beddengoed in een droge, goed geventileerde ruimte. Geurzakjes kunnen helpen om het beddengoed fris te houden tijdens het opbergen.

Veelgestelde vragen over beddengoed

Hoe vaak moet ik mijn beddengoed vervangen? Beddengoed moet gemiddeld elke twee tot drie jaar worden vervangen, afhankelijk van hoe vaak het wordt gebruikt en gewassen. Als je beddengoed tekenen van slijtage vertoont, zoals dunne plekken of vervaagde kleuren, is het tijd om nieuw beddengoed aan te schaffen.

Wat is het beste materiaal voor warm weer? Voor warm weer zijn ademende materialen zoals katoen en linnen het beste. Deze stoffen helpen je koel te blijven door vocht goed te absorberen en de lichaamstemperatuur te reguleren.

Hoe houd ik mijn beddengoed fris tussen de wasbeurten? Om je beddengoed fris te houden tussen de wasbeurten, kun je je bed regelmatig luchten door de lakens terug te slaan en de kamer goed te ventileren. Geurzakjes in de linnenkast kunnen ook helpen om je beddengoed fris te laten ruiken.

Conclusie

Beddengoed speelt een cruciale rol in het comfort en de sfeer van je slaapkamer. Door het juiste materiaal, de juiste maat en het perfecte design te kiezen, kun je een slaapomgeving creëren die zowel comfortabel als aantrekkelijk is. Regelmatig onderhoud zorgt ervoor dat je beddengoed lang meegaat en je slaapkwaliteit optimaal blijft.

[asosolution]

Tesla Model S Plaid Track Paket, was ist anders?

[yorkiesinspace]

Nieuwe blogpost! Lees de volledige post hier: https://yorkiesinspace.be/2024/02/19/nog-een-valentijnskaartje/

Nog een Valentijnskaartje?

Jup. Het vorige kaartje dat ik deelde was voor de maandelijkse kaartjesswap met mijn vriendin Annemieke. Maar natuurlijk heb ik ook een Valentijnskaartje voor Timothy gemaakt!

Materiaal

Snijmallen & Stempels

Amy Design – Christmas Pets – Christmas Dog

Carlijn Design A7 Kaart + Envelop

Avec Creative (Action) Slimline hartjes

Carlijn Design A6 Rechthoeken

Hedgehugs

Hartjes

Inkt

Ik gebruikte de onderstaande inkten, maar eigenlijk heb je genoeg aan één roze of rode inkt, een beige/lichtbruine inkt en een zwarte inkt.

Distress Oxide Antique Linen

Distress Oxide Lumberjack Plaid

Distress Oxide Worn Lipstick

Distress Oxide Festive Berries

Jet black

Papier

Zwarte A6 kaart

Wit papier

Ander

Zwarte stift (bv. Décotime twinmarker 120)

Memento Dual Marker

Sparkle Brushmarker roze

Crystal Glaze

Witte gelpen

Stappen

We beginnen met het maken van het achtergrondpaneel. Snij tweemaal uit wit papier de geschulpte rechthoek van Carlijn Design. Één van deze panelen haal je opnieuw door de snijmachine met de slimline hartjes. Uiteraard kun je hier eender welke achtergrondsnijmal gebruiken. Nu heb je een effen witte geschulpte rechthoek, en nog eens dezelfde rechthoek met een heleboel hartjes uitgesneden. Kleef deze op elkaar.

Zorg dat de lijm goed droog is voor je de volgende stap uitvoert. Neem de grote hartsnijmal om een hartvormig gat te snijden in het wit hartjespaneel. Hier zal het hondje door komen piepen straks.

Neem een stuk papier dat groter is dan het hart, maar kleiner dan het paneel. Kleur dit roze/rood met de inkten. Je kunt ook gewoon een gekleurd stukje papier gebruiken voor een meer effen look. Kleef dit achter het hartvormig gat.

Maak het hondje:

Snij alle onderdelen (meerdere keren als je extra dimensie wilt) uit wit papier. Natuurlijk kun je ook gekleurd papier gebruiken en de volgende stapjes overslaan.

Kleur de pootjes, het lijfje, de snoet, het kopje en de oortjes met de beige/lichtbruine inkt. Je kunt voor schakeringen zorgen door meer of minder inkt te gebruiken. Ik gebruikte bijvoorbeeld meer inkt op de oren om ze iets donkerder te hebben dan de rest van het hoofdje. Ook gebruikte ik een hartjesstencil om een hartvorm rond één van de oogjes te maken.

Kleur de oogjes en de neus zwart. Ik deed dit met een Décotime twinmarker, maar je kunt ook zwarte inkt of eender welke andere zwarte stift gebruiken. Met een witte gelpen teken je kleine details in de oogjes en de neus.

Teken met de Memento dual marker (of een andere fijne zwarte stift) het mondje en de sproetjes op de snoet.

Kleur het sjaaltje rood. Stempel er een klein hartje op, of teken er zelf eentje.

Zorg dat alles goed droog is voor je verdergaat, zodat je de kleuren niet uitsmeert! Als je alle onderdelen meerdere keren uitgesneden hebt, kun je het hondje nu extra veel dimensie geven. Ik vind het hier de moeite waard, omdat je wilt dat je hondje echt de aandacht trekt. Assembleer het hondje in het hart, met de pootjes op de rand.

De omranding van de tekst sneed ik meerdere malen uit wit papier en kleefde ik op elkaar om meer diepte te hebben. Ik kleurde het opnieuw zwart met een stiftje. Dat kleefde ik dan op de volledige “I heart U”, ook uit wit papier gesneden. Het hartje sneed ik nog eens apart uit en kleurde ik met dezelfde inkt als het groot hart, om het dan in de tekst te kleven. Daarna kan de tekst op het paneel.

Kleef het paneel op een zwarte kaart met foamtape.

Ter afwerking gebruikte ik de Sparkle Brushmarker om een beetje glitter op het hart in de tekst, en het hartje op de sjaal te doen. Met Crystal Glaze bedekte ik de tekst, het hartje op de sjaal, de oogjes en de neus. Dit geeft een glad laagje bovenop de elementjes, wat het geheel extra speciaal maakt.

Meer inspiratie?

Meer kaartjesinspiratie? Kijk dan hier. Wil je updates op deze post zeker niet missen? Schrijf je dan in voor de nieuwsbrief, of volg yorkiesinspace op Instagram!

Hou mij op de hoogte!

[in-pleasant-company]

Kirsten's Swedish dirndl

Livkjol ("waist skirt"), circa 1700-1799, Nordiska museet

Livstycke (bodice), circa 1825-1850, Nordiska museet

Småland (Värend) from Svenska folkets seder, bruk och klädedrägter by Carl Anders Dahlström, 1863 via Wikimedia Commons

Folkdräkt (Värend), Nordisk familjebok vol.8 Folkdräkt, 1908, via Wikimedia Commons

Folkdräkt (Sunnerbo härad) and Folkdräkt, (Södra Unnaryds härad), Nordisk familjebok vol.8 Folkdräkt, 1908, via Wikimedia Commons

Klänning (dress), circa 1850-1860, Nordiska museet

The Mysteries of Kirsten’s Swedish Clothing - The Limits of Historical Research

This skirt with an attached bodice might be what Kirsten’s outfit was based on. You might think that since it dates to the 18th century, it is not accurate to what Kirsten would have worn in Sweden. The recorded examples of folkdräkt (“folk costume”) from the province of Småland are very similar, although it seems it was more common for bodices and skirts to be separate pieces. They appear to have similar construction and layering as working class clothing from 18th century England. There is an example of a bodice with rattan cane "boning" which would likely have taken the place of a corset for adult women but other examples from the same time period do not have this.

In the 1850s, even farmers like the Larsons were moving out of the folkdräkt and into more modern clothing. Folkdräkt is documented as being worn for special occasions like weddings and church holidays but made in finer fabrics like silk. The couple on horseback is a bride and groom. The modern clothing is simple, like the plaid dress shown here.

To add to the confusion, the designs of regional folkdräkt became more standardized to make them easier to replicate in the 20th century. For modern examples of folkdräkt from Småland, check out http://www.folkdrakt.se/bild/varend/varend.html. (The website owner has asked that pictures not be reposted).

Unfortunately, two books that would greatly increase my understanding of what Kirsten and her family would have worn in Sweden are both impossible to find in the United States, and only available in the Swedish language, although one of the books apparently has an English language index. (The books are Kvinnligt mode under två sekel by Britta Hammar and Pernilla Rasmussen, and Underkläder en Kulturhistoria by the same authors.)

And finally, dirndl is a German word!

[laura-schwyter-atmosphericdesign]

Input Alexandra Ammann, 25.11.22

ACCESSOIRES

Was können Accessoires bewirken?

-> erzeugen Emotionen -> erzählen Geschichten -> Machen Räume lebendig -> unterstützen Stilwelten -> erezeugen gewollten Stilbruch

Wo im Raum Accessoires platzieren?

Eingang -> Super Raum: Erster Eindruck, Bereich für Ablage / Spiegel

Wohnzimmer -> Tablett begrenzt Bereich z.b. auf Tisch -> Gefässe in einer Farbwelt kombinieren -> Immer wieder drüber gehen und Refresh machen -> Saisonal wechseln (Bsp. Sofa – mit unterschiedlichen Kissen) -> Teppich genug gross – Als Insek, die alles zusammen hält -> Möbel ganz oder mit Vorderbeinen auf Teppich stellen -> Bücher sind die besten Accessoires -> Bilder ins Regal stellen -> Uhren oder Schmuck als Accessoires in schönen Gefässen -> Regale, die von allen Seiten interessant sind -> Zuerst den Grundriss anschauen!

Essbereich -> Sideboard, das höher ist als Tisch bietet Platz für Ansammlung von kleinen Objekten -> Nicht überall Accessoires gleichmässig verteilen sondern punktuell und geballt -> Leerraum! -> Gefässe für alltägliche Sachen (Salz/Pfeffer/Pillendosen) immer auf Tablett, damit man sie unkompliziert wegräumen kann -> Logisch, dann liegt auch nicht immer alles rum -> Bei grossem Tisch für wenige Leute -> Grosses Tablett -> Geschirr kann auch offen verstaut werden wenn es schön ist

Schlafzimmer -> Bettwäsche/Plaid/Leuchten aufeinander abstimmen -> Leiter als "Aufhänge" statt Garderobe oder Stuhl -> Plaids über Bett bis fast auf den Boden -> Kissen schichten – Hinten Gross, vorne Klein, Quer und Hoch Tipps -> An ausgewählten Stellen dekorieren / Andere auslassen -> Saisonale Deko wegräumen -> Ungerade Anzahl von Produkten -> Mit Accessiores bei einem Thema bleiben -> Unterschiedliche Oberflächen in einem Farbthema -> Thematisch müssen die Accessoires in den Raum passen -> Accessoires mit Geschichte -> Immer mal wieder alles abräumen -> Raum auf einfachste Weise verändern: Mit Wandfarbe -> Äste sehen eigentlich immer gut aus als Deko -> Wenn das was man braucht in sich ein Thema gibt, ist das die beste Deko Accessoires im öffentlichen Raum -> Die Story muss passen / darf nicht fehl am Platz sein -> Bei Einperson-Unternehmen kann sie auch persönlich sein -> Regalunterteilungen bieten Abstellfläche -> Vitrahaus Connie Hüsser anschauen gehen Bilder -> auf grosse Bilder will ich zulaufen -> Kleine Bilder da wo man miteinander redet und nahe dran sitzt -> Bildergruppen hängen: Immer mit dem grössten starten -> Asymmetrisch und nicht im Zentrum hängen -> Die Augenhöhe sollte wenn man Steht im oberen Drittel sein -> Blockhängung bei Serien z.b. -> Grundriss analysieren: Welche Wände eignen sich? -> Mit kleineren Bildern Gruppe bilden -> Harmonisch wenn die Rahmen der Bilder zusammen passen -> Achten, dass immer wieder eine Linie übernommen ird, ohne eine klar strukturierte Hängung einzuhalten -> Bilder können auch stehen oder angelehnt sein -> Nicht mit Silch hängen -> Hängungen liegend ausprobieren -> LUMAS für Bilder von namhaften Fotograf*innen

[protect-him]

prompt: "shy kiss" for fenders?

A bit late, and this got a bit long, but I had ideas and I had a lovely time writing them. I hope you enjoy!

For @dadrunkwriting

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

The elevator stopped on floor fifteen to let off one of its three passengers.

“Uh, how high are we going?” Anders asked, as the elevator doors slid shut and they began to climb again.

“Not much further,” Fenris said, putting a hand up to push back the loose hair that hung over the side of Anders’ face. His expression was clinical as he examined the bloody scrape on Anders’ temple.

“It’s fine,” Anders assured him, once again. He let Fenris hold his face without further protest, only pulling away reluctantly when Fenris’ warm fingers slipped away.

The elevator stopped on floor twenty-three, the top floor.

“Where are we going, the roof?” Anders joked mildly, following Fenris out of the elevator and trying not to stare at the luxurious carpet that padded the foyer. Three doors led off of the landing, each numbered.

“Fuck, this is a penthouse, isn’t it?” Anders muttered. “And my boots are muddy.”

“It’s no matter,” Fenris said, turning the key in the lock and pushing open the door.

Anders trailed after him, bending to pull off his boots just inside, despite Fenris’ insistence that he needn’t bother.

The entryway was dimly lit by a small light that Fenris had flicked on, but from what Anders could see, everything in the spacious apartment was luxurious and elegant, if somewhat sparse. Fenris stood watching him, lit by the overhead light and framed by a wall of floor to ceiling windows looking over the blinking city.

Anders straightened, eyes widening as he walked towards the windows to look out. The room containing them was a large bedroom with a plush king-sized bed. The floor was smooth wood, and Anders’ feet drifted onto a plush rug, where he stopped and stood staring out the window.

“I am fond of the view,” Fenris murmured, coming to stand beside him.

“I’ve never seen Kirkwall like this,” Anders said. From behind the glass, the city was only a distant hum.

Fenris turned and vanished from Anders’ periphery. A light flicked on and Anders finally tore his eyes away to look. The light came from a doorway that led into a blindingly white bathroom. A large mirror on the opposite wall reflected Fenris, bending to open a drawer.

Knowing that he needed to treat the scrape on his temple and his split knuckles, Anders left the window and joined Fenris.

“Find anything?” He asked.

“There are some first aid items here,” Fenris said, pulling out a small bottle of antibiotic cream and a box of bandages.

“I can take care of it,” Anders said.

“That won’t be necessary,” Fenris said. He pulled Anders towards the porcelain toilet and sat him down on the lid. He pushed aside the wet hair to look at the injury. He silently dabbed antibiotic cream onto a cotton ball and smoothed it across Anders’ temple. “There,” he pressed the bandage to the wound. Anders picked up the cotton ball and rubbed it across his bloody knuckles.

“There is a second bedroom,” Fenris offered. “It would be best if you spent the night. It is too late for you to walk home.”

“Ah-alright,” Anders said.

“I apologize that it is a small space,” Fenris said, glancing towards the ground. “It was formerly my room.”

Anders kept his expression neutral, but his mind started racing. He could only imagine what Fenris had been like when he lived here with his abusive step-father.

“If you prefer, you can sleep in the master bedroom,” Fenris offered.

“Oh, no, the other will be great!” Anders said, smiling. “I appreciate the offer.”

“If you insist,” Fenris said, always obliging. He disappeared into the bedroom as Anders leaned in to look in the mirror, tugging at the bandage on his head. It had hurt, but it was more than worth it taking a punch when the cause was standing up to someone trying to insult Fenris. And Anders had given back just as good, as his split knuckles were proof. He grinned in the mirror, damp hair hanging around his face. More than worth it.

“I found some things that may fit you,” Fenris said, placing a couple neatly folded clothing articles on the counter top. “So you can change out of your wet clothes.”

“Thanks.”

Fenris withdrew, closing the door so Anders could change. The warm sweats and loose tee shirt fit better than Anders had expected—most likely they had belonged to someone other than Fenris. He opened the door and yawned, his eyes once again drawn to the large windows.

“I feel guilty to rob you of the view,” Fenris said apologetically. He had changed as well, into plaid bottoms and a black tee.

“I’ll sleep better without the sun coming in on me when I wake up,” Anders said, waving his hand.

“If you say so,” Fenris said, moving to show Anders the door leading into the spare bedroom. The room was hardly larger than the bathroom had been, a long bed with a worn grey cover crammed against one wall. Fenris flicked on a lamp that sat on the shelf that was a part of the headboard above the bed.

“If you are uncomfortable here, please let me know,” he said, eyeing Anders’ height nervously, trying to measure him against the length of the bed.

“Don’t worry,” Anders said. “I’ll sleep like a baby.” He sat down on the bed and smoothed the sheet.

“I shall simply be in the next room, then,” Fenris said. “Good night, Anders.”

Anders looked up and caught Fenris’ gaze. Anders, he called me Anders. Fenris’ teeth caught at his lip, but he held Anders’ gaze deliberately.

“Good night, Fenris,” Anders said. And the elf turned out the light and slipped into the darkness of the master bedroom.

Anders turned to examine his accommodations. It was a barren room, the furnishings minimal and significantly less fine than those in the rest of the penthouse apartment. The headboard was odd, it seemed thick, as if there was a cavity in it, but when Anders felt the paneling, it didn’t seem to move. A moment of magic, and he found a spell sealing it, which was old and easily broken. He hesitated. What if there was something inside this space that he shouldn’t see?

Anders’ curiosity got the best of him. The panel slid to the side to reveal a small open space. It was nearly empty, there was only a small plush animal, a thick and stubby pencil, and an old, worn notebook. Anders touched the plush. It was smooth, the fabric worn thin in several places. He didn’t want to pry, but Anders had to peek inside the notebook. Just the first page, to see if he could confirm who it belonged to.

The first page was smudged in places, and adorned with small childish drawings. The subject matter appeared to be birds. And scattered across the page, in shaky handwriting, was the capital letter ‘L,’ repeated over and over. It made little sense to Anders, so he replaced the notebook and closed the cabinet, turning out the light, and soon falling asleep.

He slept peacefully, and woke confused. He was in a small room, curled up on a narrow but comfortable bed. His jaw ached, and Anders remembered the fight, and Fenris walking him to his place, and everything else. He gingerly touched a finger to the bandage on his head. All of that had happened. He had as good as said that he liked Fenris, and perhaps even beyond friendship, which was itself only a tentative thing between them. A wonder that Fenris hadn’t rejected the declaration outright, probably finding it too ridiculous.

Anders wasn’t allowed much time to think. Soon, he could smell the fragrance of food cooking. Following his nose, he found Fenris in the apartment’s kitchen. Despite being a bit small, the kitchen felt much larger. There was a moment when they regarded each other, unsure where they stood today.

“Sleep well?” Fenris finally asked.

“Mm,” Anders hummed, coming to stand next to the elf and look at what he was making. Eggs, with cheese and bits of meat. “Smells good,” he said.

Now it was Fenris’ turn to hum.

“I hope you like it,” he said.

“Fenris…” Fenris looked at him, thoughtful.

“I know this is a bit sudden and ridiculous,” Anders said, “but would you want to start seeing each other?”

Fenris didn’t look disgusted, nor throw him out immediately, so Anders counted his question as successful. He didn’t expect Fenris’ response, which came much quicker than Anders would have supposed.

“I think I should like that,” Fenris’ voice was hardly above a whisper, and his ears flushed a sweet, soft pink.

“Wait, really?”

“I suppose you had not noticed any of the hints I tried to drop,” Fenris said, smiling ruefully.

“I’m afraid not,” Anders said.

“Then I shall have to speak more plainly,” Fenris said. He was suddenly facing Anders, tugging him down, closer to those wide, green eyes.

Fenris paused for a moment to give Anders agency to decide whether to stay or to pull away. Anders stayed, and leaned in. Fenris met him, soft lips only brushing his gently, like a feather, before Fenris pulled back again. The rosy blush had rapidly spread from his ears across his cheeks. He looked quickly back at the food, scraping at the eggs in the pan.

“Fenris?”

Fenris hummed, but didn’t dare look at Anders.

“That was really sweet. Perhaps we should try it again sometime?” The smile that lit up Fenris’ face, though it was small, made Anders’ heart do an unexpected flip. With the view of the city behind him, and Fenris blushing in front of him, Anders could hardly remember any morning nearly so wondrous as this one.

[potatowitch]

wish I had even an iota of artistic skill so I could do the "draw your favourite character in your outfits" thing with Anders and my collection of cat pyjamas and plaid shirts

[budgethome]

© Foto van @ons.huisje ♡ Korting op heel veel kussens! Bij Kwantum geldt tot en met 14 maart 1+1 gratis op alle sierkussens, bij Leen Bakker loopt tot en met vandaag dezelfde actie en bij Xenos is het tot volgende week 2+1 gratis op alle kussens en plaids. De twee okergele kussens van ribstof op de foto zijn beide van Kwantum. Het vierkante kussen (45 x 45 cm) kost €10 en het ronde kussen (Ø 40 cm) van €8 krijg je nu gratis. Of een ander kussen natuurlijk. Kwantum: https://ds1.nl/c/?si=7762&li=1360074&wi=288874&ws=&dl=woonaccessoires%2Fwoontextiel%2Fsierkussens Leen Bakker: https://tc.tradetracker.net/?c=18985&m=12&a=291591&u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.leenbakker.nl%2Fwoonaccessoires%2Fwoontextiel%2Fkussens%2Fsierkussens Xenos: https://tc.tradetracker.net/?c=18988&m=12&a=291591&u=%2Fsearch%3Fq%3Dalle%2Bkussens%2Ben%2Bplaids%2Bactie https://www.instagram.com/p/CMIKNxVlx_U/?igshid=1jjl4t2f29w4v

[arreton]

Solitamente dopo i pasti, una cosa che ci piace fare è stare un poco col nostro cellulare. Soffriamo il freddo — pure se qua non fa freddo — dunque ci mettiamo davanti alla nostra vecchia stufa alogena — ormai quasi del tutto non funzionante: su tre tubi ne accende solo uno, ma ne siamo affezionati e per l'uso che ne dobbiamo fare noi, ci basta, finché dura — nella nostra stanza, a volte con un plaid sulle spalle e lo scaldino sulle ginocchia, a volte solo con la stufa accesa e stiamo un po' col nostro cellulare: stiamo un po' sui social, rivediamo vecchie foto e soprattutto leggiamo. È un momento tutto nostro, ci piace: la luce della stanza è spenta, quindi intorno a noi è buio, un buio rischiarato dalla luce calda e dal calore della stufetta; vorremmo poter dire che c'è silenzio ma non è così, però siamo ormai diventati abbastanza bravi da ignorare i rumori che abbiamo intorno: sarà che quando iniziamo a disprezzare, non abbiamo più fiducia né stima di una persona, il nostro obiettivo è farla sparire e dopo averla rimpicciolita col disprezzo, tentiamo quanto più possiamo di renderla invisibile ai nostri sensi. Ci stiamo affezionando, oltre che al telefono, anche a questo momento qua: soprattutto quando abbiamo i piedi freddi — praticamente sempre — sentire il calore della stufa, la pesantezza del plaid sulle spalle, il calore dello scaldino sulle ginocchia e dunque toccare qualcosa di caldo, ci conforta. Questa piccola stufa ormai rotta è il nostro caminetto, il cellulare il nostro contatto col mondo. Siamo soli, ma non così soli. Abbiamo le verità dei libri che dialogano col nostro pensiero ed è tutto stimolante. Dicevamo già che abbiamo trovato in Anders un vecchio amico, tra i migliori che abbiamo: non è facile stargli dietro, tutto quello che dice è pregno di intelligenza, nulla da dare per scontato, nulla di banale, nulla è messo lì per caso, tutto è concatenato. Acuto, rigido, taglia di netto quello che va tagliato, ma tiene considerazione di tutto. Una mattina ci siamo commossi, leggendo un suo libro: finalmente qualcuno che la pensa come me, abbiamo pensato e nel mentre abbiamo pianto. È difficile riuscire a trovare qualcosa di affine e soprattutto qualcosa che non ci contraddica. Banalmente è questo che vorremmo: non essere contraddetti, né messi in difetto, né che ci venga fatto notare che il nostro pensiero è limitato e limitante: lo sappiamo già, per certi versi. Vorremmo essere accolti così, allora, vorremmo 'solo' questo. Ma oltre che impossibile, come cosa — soprattutto perché al contrario invece noi siamo polemici a vuoto, siamo l'avvocato ignorante delle cause perse; estremamente giudicanti, ignoranti detentori di una verità che non esiste, arroganti, sprezzanti, un occhio indagatore che punta a far cadere in difetto l'altro; insomma: siamo proprio dei brutti esseri, delle brutte personalità, il classico personaggio a margine, quello patetico che se ne esce ogni tanto così, buttando qualche minchiata a caso che magari al momento si fa pure notare ma poi viene dimenticato per la sua insignificanza — non è nemmeno giusta: non è così, non può e non deve essere così; è un desiderio, questo, patologico, che vuole solo che la ferita del narcisismo continui a rimanere aperta per poter continuare ad atteggiarsi da narcisista. In realtà, quindi, non è un desiderio autentico. Ed è pure sbagliato.

Oggi, più degli altri giorni, insomma, la stima che abbiamo di noi stessi ed il disprezzo che nutriamo nei nostri confronti sono parecchio elevati. Ci vediamo come un caso non tanto perso, ma che non merita di essere salvato: niente; per punizione non meritiamo niente di tutto quello che 'desideriamo'. Se fossimo un caso perso, avremmo comunque la possibilità di poter ricavare qualcosa su altri fronti, ma un caso che non merita salvezza, non la merita perché niente in esso si può salvare. Ecco, noi ci vediamo così. Tutto quello che facciamo, tutto, non è giusto.

A volte ci chiediamo se oltre queste mura e oltre quei pochi contatti che ci sono rimasti, riusciremo ad essere un poco degni per riuscire a 'stare in società'. I nostri tentativi si concludono sempre con un nulla di fatto.

[ak47stylegirl]

Welcome to Honia: Family time

Okay, finally getting around to posting this XD I had it ready to be posted a week ago but haven’t gotten around to posting until now 😅Anyway I hope you enjoy this fic! 

The previous chapters can be found here, I would advise reading those first to better understand what’s going on in this Royal Au world XD 

----

John pov.

The sleek black car pulled up to the entrance of the palace, the sun setting in the background. That function had gone on forever, he thought as he waved goodbye to Kayo with a yawn. Heading inside, the doorman opening the door for him, bowing his head in respect. 

His feet were on autopilot, leading him to one of the family’s drawing rooms. He really should have gone to his apartments, but that was on the other side of the palace and the couch was calling him, He thought as he collapsed on the antique couch face first in exhaustion. 

Functions were not his cup of tea, as his pink-loving friend in England would like to say. Penny was definitely more adept at dealing with social events than he was...

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the charities that hosted those events, the charities that he and his family supported were some of the best, wholesome ones out there. It was just...he really rather stayed in the library with a good book than in a crowded room, filled with people that want to talk to his Royal Highness, Prince Jonathan…

Not John Tracy…

But social events were expected of them, it was just a fact of life for a Royal. He was used to it...

“Wow...I haven’t seen you collapse on a couch like that since you were a teenager…” a familiar voice chuckled, sounding bewildered but also slightly amused. 

His eyes, which had slipped close, snapped open as he shot to his feet, trying to make himself look like he hadn't just been facepalming with a couch. But gravity had other ideas, causing him to fall backwards onto the couch with a thud...

The familiar voice winced, “you’re okay?” Asked Scott, who was sitting in one of the armchairs opposite him, his tablet in hand while a cup of coffee sat on the side table next to him. 

It took him a couple of seconds for his head to catch up to his body but when it did, the relief was overwhelming. “I, yeah, I’m fine Scott…” He said with a little bow of his head, recognising Scott's higher rank, before collapsing sideways on the couch with a sigh of relief, rolling onto his back.

“Please don’t scare me like that again..” he groaned, covering his eyes with his right forearm, shifting it slightly so he could see Scott, “I swear I nearly had a heart attack…” 

Scott chuckled softly as he took a sip of his coffee, “Do I want to know how that function went?” Scott’s eyes were live with laughter, his big brother was enjoying this too much…

He groaned, covering his eyes with his arm again, blocking out the light of the room. “You don’t want to know…” 

Oh, he could feel a headache coming on...

“So much talking, so many people…the food was okay though but argh...so many people...” he groaned again, “I really hope you had a better afternoon than I did…”

“It has been okay, I guess…” Scott said with a yawn, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, “I was able to get a fair bit of work done today, as well as speak with a couple of diplomats on father’s behalf..” 

That’s...sounds like fun...he thought with a little eye roll, wisely choosing to keep that sarcastic thought to himself…

Diplomats and politicians were...not the easiest people to deal with, so he was glad Scott was the one that had to deal with them this time. And speaking of their father...

“Have you had a chance to talk with father lately?” He asked as he rubbed his eyes, the headache starting to set in good now. “I haven’t been able to call him in a couple days so I’m a bit out of the loop-“

A little gasp sounded from the entrance of the drawing-room, “Johnny! You’re home!” An excited squeal echoed through the room, followed by the sound of running footsteps.

And before he could even fathom what was going on, he suddenly had a six-year-old child on his chest, hugging all the air out of his lungs “I missed you!” Alan cheered, snuggling into him. 

“Hi..Allie..” he chuckled weakly as he tried to get some air into his lungs, giving Alan’s soft blond hair a little ruffle, “I missed you too but um, I was only gone for a couple of hours?” He asked in confusion, looking at Scott for help. 

Which turned out to be a mistake because Scott was no help…the man in question having broken down into roaring laughter at his predicament, like he never had Alan unexpectedly jump on him before…

He glared at his big brother, not finding the current situation as funny as Scott seemed to find it. Scott was full-body laughing, holding his stomach as he bent forward with laughter, tears of joy in his eyes. 

Alan was just sitting on his chest now, looking mega confused as he shifted his eyes between them with his wide baby blues.

Alan’s nanny stood near the entrance of the drawing-room, looking startled, confused, and slightly terrified by the turn of events. She was probably worried she was going to get in trouble for letting Alan jump on him…

Which wasn’t really a big deal, but she was a new recruit, wasn’t she? He thought to himself, taking note for future reference. The new recruits always seemed to act like they had the power to cut off their heads or something...

Which, okay, maybe back in medieval times that was possible but come on, it was the twenty-first century, he thought with a chuckle as he tried to take a deep breath in…

Only to realise that, oh yeah, Alan was still sitting on his chest…

And the kid wasn’t that light either, so breathing was not the easiest thing to do, he thought with a little gasp, not wanting to tell Alan out-right to get off, but he needed to breathe! 

Lucky for him, Scott had finished laughing and had decided to take pity on him…

“Allie-baby, why don’t you come over here?” Scott chuckled softly as he patted his lap. “Johnny had a big day and he’s really tired, sweetheart...” 

Alan blinked at Scott before looking down at him, “Oh…” Alan whispered softly as he crawled off his chest. “Sorry, Johnny…”

A big sigh of relief escaped him as the weight on his chest disappeared, letting him finally breathe properly once again. Honestly, when did that little pup get so heavy? He’s growing up too fast...

“It’s okay, Allie..” he smiled at Alan, who was happily nestled into Scott’s side now, his little head resting on Scott’s chest. The kid was just plain adorable, those big baby blue eyes and little button nose. The kid could make even the toughest man crack from the cuteness….

And it is easy to see where he gets it from, he thought with a smile as he glanced up at Scott, who was smiling softly down at Alan, an arm wrapped tenderly around the kid. Those blue eyes were almost identical…

“So what have you been up to today, kiddo?” Scott asked softly, pulling the kid close in an embrace, tenderly kissing the top of Alan's head, “I heard that you had your nap a little bit earlier today. You feeling okay?” 

He felt a tingle of concern at that statement, his smile dropping as all the times Alan had been stuck in bed, horribly sick and unwell flashed through his mind. 

“I was...I was just tired…” Alan mumbled shyly, sucking his thumb as he snuggled into Scott’s side, very obviously not liking where the conversation had gone. “Didn’t sleep good...” 

Scott’s lips pressed together into a frown, his forehead creasing in worry, the concern clouding his eyes. 

“Hey, Allie…” he smiled, getting Alan’s and Scott’s attention, “did you learn anything interesting today?” He asked, changing the subject to something more cheerful. 

Alan’s baby blue eyes lit up like fireworks, a big grin bursting on to the kid’s face, “Yeah! I did, I did!” Alan cheered loudly, starting to bounce up and down on Scott’s lap, overflowing with excitement. “And it’s really really cool!”

He had to bite his lip to stop the bark of laughter that wanted to escape as Scott winced. Having a bouncing, excited kid on one’s lap or to be more precise, one’s sensitive, manly parts was not a nice feeling…

“And what is that, kiddo?” Scott asked with a smile trying to disguise his discomfort as he gently stilled Alan’s excited bouncing “What is this really cool thing, hmm?” Scott cuddled Alan close, resting his cheek lightly on the kid’s head.

“Um well…” Alan blinked up at Scott owlishly, nibbling at his bottom lip, ”Mrs. Anders had me reading a new book today and well... there was this weird looking animal in it!” Alan grinned at them, his eyes lively with excitement. 

“Weird looking animal?” He smiled encouragingly at Alan, always happy to see Alan learning new things. “What kind of animal was it, kiddo?” 

“Um…” Alan’s eyebrows creased in concentration, the kid pressing his lips together as he thought hard, “Mrs. Anders said it was called a...a D-ira-ffe?” Alan spelt out slowly, looking slightly unsure of himself. 

“A Giraffe?” Scott corrected with a little chuckle, a soft tender smile on his face as he looked down at the kid on his lap. There was unfiltered love in his eyes. 

“Yeah a d-iraffe!” Alan grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “It’s neck is so funny! It’s so long!” Alan giggled, his eyes bright with excitement. “And it’s tongue is blue!” Alan stuck his tongue out for demonstration, pointing at it. “Wish my tongue was blue…” 

He and Scott both chuckled, each very much amused by Alan’s excited ramble… the kid could be so cute at times. 

“Well, this is unusual…” Virgil chuckled as he entered the room, wearing his favourite red plaid shirt. “We’re all in the same place for once! Did I miss the memo?” 

“Virgie!” Alan bounced up with a cheer, causing Scott to yelp in surprise and alarm as Alan very nearly tumbled off the side of the armchair...

The kid was lucky Scott had such a fast reaction time, otherwise Alan would have gotten a face full of carpet, he thought as Alan giggled at Scott sheepishly, the older man giving the kid a stern look, arm firmly wrapped around Alan's middle... 

“Hey Allie..” Virgil smiled softly, a bit of laughter in his voice as he came to stand next to Scott’s chair, subtly bowing his head to him and Scott. “What have you guys been up to? John, how did that function go?” 

“You don’t want to know…” he answered dryly as he sat up with a yawn, the day’s work catching up to him. “Why don’t you ask Allie what he learned about today?” 

Alan’s eyes lit up like fireworks as Virgil turn to him. “Mrs. Anders show me a D-iraffe! They have blue tongues! and they’re so long!” Alan giggled, a giant grin on his face. ”They’re really weird but super duper cool at the same time!” 

“That they are..” Virgil chuckled softly, a fond look in his eyes as he ruffled Alan’s soft blond hair, “you sure had fun today, haven’t you kiddo?” 

“Yeah!” Alan said before yawning softly, rubbing his eyes sleepy. “It...it was fun but…” Alan yawned again.. “when’s dinner?” 

All the adults in the room chuckled at Alan’s question. 

Scott looked at his watch, “Hmm, we should probably have dinner soon and then get you kiddo into bed..” Scott stroked Alan’s hair back gently, a tender look on his face. “Especially if you’re having trouble sleeping..”

Alan pouted, shaking Scott’s hand off. Scott just sighed softly... 

“Dinner does sound good, I wonder what the chefs are going to put on the menu tonight..” Virgil wondered out loud, his stomach growling. “Hey, why don’t you guys join me in my quarters tonight for dinner?” Virgil suggested with a smile. “We haven’t done that in a while, it will be nice…”

“Brilliant idea, Virg.” Scott smiled at Virgil before tapping his watch, opening a commline to his private secretary, Gary, who was Scott’s go-to man for nearly everything. Alan watched in curiosity. 

“Yes, your highness?” The gruff pouch voice of Gray answered. 

“Me and Alan are going to have our dinner in Virgil’s quarters tonight, Gary. Can you arrange that?” Scott spoke into his watch while gently shooing away Alan’s curious fingers with a little disapproving frown. 

Alan collapsed back against Scott’s chest with a pout, his arms crossed against his chest. The kid was obviously getting bored...

“Of course, sir.” Gary answered with speed. “I will notify all the necessary staff right away. Will that be all, sir?”

Scott lowered his watch slightly and looking at him, quietly asked, “John, what about you?” Are you joining us for dinner tonight? 

He frowned slightly as he thought about it. He was dead tired and, he’ll admit, feeling a bit emotionally drained from the event. He really just needed to have some alone time, even though he really did want to spend some time with his brothers. He was exhausted. 

He shook his head as he stood up with a yawn. “I’m just going to have dinner in my quarters tonight, but maybe next time?” He smiled softly at his brothers. Alan had dozed off slightly against Scott’s chest. 

“Sure, John, that’s fine.” Virgil smiled softly at him as Scott ended the call with Gary. “You look dead tired, you should get an early night tonight.”

“Planning too..” he smiled as he gently ruffled Alan’s blond locks as he walked passed. The kid blinked sleepily up at him. “Goodnight, Allie. You behave for Scott and Virgil.” 

“He better behave...” Scott chuckled softly, a playful look appearing in his eyes, “or I’ll eat him all up, yumgh yumrgh!” Scott pretends to gobble Alan up, tickling the kid’s belly button as well as layering heaps of kisses to the kid’s face. 

Which in turn caused Alan to squeal in outrage at the overload of affection. The kid started to squirm as he tried to get away from the onslaught of Scott’s attacks. 

But Alan ultimately lost as Scott placed one last wet kiss on the kid’s cheek, a smug look on his face as the kid wiggled out of his arms. Alan pouted, rubbing his cheek, wide awake now.

Virgil chuckled. “Come on, Allie. Why don’t we go up to my quarters for dinner before Scott decides he wants to eat you for real.” Virgil grinned, holding his hand out for Alan to take. 

Alan couldn’t take Virgil’s hand fast enough.