#danish sofa brands

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

RATED M

The clock struck five in the morning. Contaminated test tubes and beakers were wet in the sink. A bright green bar nearing 65% completion was loading on a large computer screen surrounded by monitors. Shoko was busy in her lab, observing a single drop of blood, splotched between two thin slides under a beaming microscope. She hadn't left work since yesterday. You’d think after all these years hunkered down in the school’s basement like an obsessive recluse, she’d be used to the loneliness. She could already hear poor Ghost yowling for his breakfast, but there was no room for pause. The blood sample results from the New National Theater had finally come back, but Shoko was only interested in one.

The jujutsu doctor’s lips drew together in concentration, suspending the tail end of a depleted cigarette. Screw resolutions. This was far more important than her respiratory health. Her findings so far were not as she’d hoped. The red blood cell count was starkly lesser than last week. She reckoned about a third of them had vitiated in that timeframe, even with the aid of reverse curse technique, but how? How? The discovery troubled her. She would start from scratch again if need be. After all, there was still more testing to be done.

Exhausted, Shoko wiped the beads of sweat off her brow and smothered her depleted cigarette in the ashtray. The computer monitors increased to 66%. She just prayed her hypothesis did not hold the truth.

Nanami Kento removed the strainer of brewed oolong leaves from the Royal Copenhagen he had sitting on a tray; a teapot and two cups with matching saucers, Blue Fluted Full Lace. They were heirlooms once owned by his late great uncle, who subsequently died of a stroke three years ago; another Henriksen lost. He had no wife or children and his mother didn’t want them, despite their value, so she bequeathed the china over to him. Not that he ever had a reason to use it. The full set of plates and fine tableware cost more than his apartment lease. He mostly kept the novelties for decoration. And perhaps nostalgia.

But not today.

Today he had a guest.

Nanami closed the lid on his uncle’s Copenhagen teapot and lifted the tray to walk back inside the living room of his small, one-bedroom sized apartment. It wasn’t the grandest place in the world, nor the cheapest. He could afford a much bigger unit if he wished, yet the space was well accommodated. It was furnished with all the essentials befitting of a bachelor; functional kitchen appliances, a washing machine and dryer, a brand new air conditioning system, and modern furniture. He had picked the farthest unit down the hall, so he wouldn’t be subjected to the loud elevator cranking up and down the many floors. It allowed him some peace and quiet in this bustling, wayward city known as Tokyo, granted, if you ignored the endless stream of ambulance sirens, blaring jumbotrons, and cries for help.

The part-time Jujutsu sorcerer entered his living room and acknowledged his guest sitting on the sofa.

“I apologize for bringing you out here like I did. I’m usually not this spontaneous.”

Nanami set the tray down along the coffee table and handed his guest a teacup. Hannah smiled at her host warmly and took the blue and white china from his hand. The porcelain clashed with the pink roses on her dress.

“Not at all, it’s perfectly alright,” she assured him. “I hear you’ve been busy with work, so this is me intruding on your time.” She looked down at the coffee table. “Anyway, I hope you like the rødgrød. Satoru mentioned you were Danish, so...”

Nanami sat down on the leather armchair, opposite her, and glanced at the small portable crockpot she had brought atop the table. Rødgrød med fløde was as much part of the Danish diet as cheeseburgers and fries were to the American. People preferred eating the berry porridge with custard or poured over freshly baked bread. Everyone loved it. Nanami hadn’t tasted the dessert since he was a young boy visiting his grandparents on holiday. Hannah had used raspberries and cherries for hers; exactly how his mormor used to make it. The tarter, the better.

Well, there were those waves of nostalgia hitting him again. He’d sample a bite later.

Satoru had dropped his wife off at his place that afternoon and hurried to go “run some errands.” Whatever that meant. Nanami had no choice but to leave the office. As ever, the Six Eyed moron liked to make things difficult and keep his whereabouts elusive, in addition to getting his lineage wrong.

“A quarter Danish,” Nanami clarified, loosening the lavender silk tie around his neck. He hadn’t been allotted time to change out of his business attire. “My grandfather was born and raised in Denmark, however my grandmother is Swedish.”

Hannah looked positively delighted.

“Ah, a Swede and a Dane,” she exclaimed. It would explain his blond hair. “That’s quite a match. The closest I got to living in Denmark was Germany. Did your grandparents ever alternate between countries?”

“For a time,” the quarter Dane replied. “But my grandmother has lived alone in Aarhus since my grandfather’s passing. I still get Christmas cards from her every year. She’ll be ninety-one this October.”

Unable to stop herself, Hannah heard the word “Christmas” and blurted the next question out loud without thinking.

“Oh. So you’re Christian?”

She could see the tug pull on the corner of his lips, barely noticeable to the untrained eye, and instantly regretted it. He was so cool, you’d think he hadn’t reacted at all. The quarter Dane shook his head. “Mom had me baptized in the Lutheran church as a baby to appease my grandfather, but the buck stopped there. She wasn’t very religious and I myself hold no beliefs.”

Hannah felt her cheeks burn hotter than the tea she was sipping, flushed with embarrassment. Her shoulders sagged. Of course he wasn’t Christian. What a foolish thing to expect? She felt awkward.

“I see,” she said rather sheepishly. “Please, forgive me. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Nanami nodded understandingly. He thought it wasn’t dumb of her to ask, but with introductions out of the way, they had official matters to attend to.

“Satoru said you had some information about a possible Sukuna finger.”

Hannah nervously tucked a strand of long auburn hair behind her ear, lowering the expensive Copenhagen in her lap.

“Yes,” she said, swallowing her tea and straightening her bad posture. “I think I know where one is.”

Nanami leaned back against the armchair and crossed his legs, hands folded patiently in his lap. His eyes never wavered.

“I’m listening.”

Hannah coughed. “Well, you see,” she began, trying to decide where to start. “I think nothing of them at first. My dreams - er visions - are often quite,” she searched for the adjective, “sporadic, if you know what I mean. But lately I’ve been having a recurring dream.”

“A recurring dream.” Nanami quirked a pencil thin, blond eyebrow. “I’m guessing that’s a dead giveaway?”

Hannah let slip a dry laugh. “You’d be correct. In my experience, whenever a dream is recurring, it’s usually indicative of a vision.”

“What has the vision shown you?”

“It’s hard to describe,” she continued, squinting her eyes as though aiming for a moving target that refused to stay still. “I don’t know why, but it always begins with me…drowning. I’m ever so slowly sinking towards the bottom.” She closed her eyes for a second, trying to imagine the nightmare in her mind. “It’s very dark and murky, so I can’t see anything. I’m terrified out of my wits. I try to kick and swim my way back up to the surface, except someone, or rather something, has me by the ankles and won’t let go. I fight and struggle to free myself, but I can’t. It isn’t until my lungs give out that I finally look down and…” she stopped for a second.

“Go on,” Nanami coaxed gently, waiting in silence. He wasn’t going to force her to talk, if she didn’t want to.

“Eyes,” the seer said, own eyes flitting open. She took a much needed breath from the horrid memory. “Four glowing, scarlet eyes staring at me from the black. That’s it. That’s all I see. Then the vision pivots.”

“Pivots?”

Hannah took a sip of oolong before humming in agreement. “I’m shown a film reel of things. Places, I think. I can’t remember what they are, but there is one feature that stands out from all the rest.”

Nanami also took a sip of tea. “Like what?”

Hannah placed her teacup on the coffee table and used her fingers to “draw” an invisible picture for him. “A massive red o-torii, floating above a large body of water.”

The quarter Dane’s brow narrowed ever so slightly. He knew what place she was referring to.

“Itsukushima Shrine,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Hannah sighed. “Satoru showed me a picture of it when I told him. It’s the exact same gate. He then mentioned you were working on a secret case and that I should speak to you immediately.”

Well, it’s not so secret anymore, Nanami thought, holding his tongue. Now he understood why Satoru had been so adamant the two of them talk, but hell, what a pain in the ass. The white haired dolt could’ve explained all this on the phone, or typed a quick text, instead of wasting he and his wife’s time. Even though she was a lovely person, both inside and out. Reminded him a bit like Haibara; her kindness and selflessness towards others.

But a tad miffed by this new flux of information, Nanami rose from his leather chair, teacup in hand, and walked over to the large window overlooking Shibuya Crossing, the thousands of city nerdowells commuting below, crammed like sardines.

“In the last four weeks, a total of eighteen people have been reported missing from the shrine,” he said, staring monotonously out the apartment window. “Evidence suggests it’s curse related. I and a few other sorcerers have been called in to investigate the disturbance.”

“Then perhaps this is your lucky break,” Hannah added, hoping to shed some light on the subject.

The quasi-business man continued looking out the apartment, almost like he wasn’t listening (but of course he was). “Itsukushima Shrine is a popular tourist destination in Miyajima. We’ll be fighting heavy crowds if we search during the day. Curse activity tends to worsen at night, but then there’s high and low tide to contest with. Your presence might also be needed. Could get dangerous.” He was listing all the potential roadblocks ahead.

“Can’t we disperse the crowds at least?” was Hannah’s suggestion. “Close the shrine off to tourists?”

Nanami hummed deeply in thought. Things were never that simple. He at last turned away from the window. “You’re sure this is a vision?”

Hannah shrugged. “More sure than not.”

“And you think a Sukuna finger is hiding somewhere at the bottom of Hiroshima Bay?”

The seer frowned. She felt her confidence wane at his scrutiny. “It’s the only lead I have.”

Confined to his thoughts, Nanami walked back towards the coffee table, relinquishing his empty teacup and saucer, and plopped back down in the leather chair, hand in his chin. A disconcerted expression became him, though his eyes were fixed on the Royal Copenhagen. Hannah thought he looked far older than his real age said on paper. He was handsome, she decided, with golden blonde hair and mixed Scandinavian features, but in a battle-hardened, wise kind of way. Forever pensive and stoic, like he had crossed the river Styx and managed to survive the harrowing ordeal, but only just so. Even without the bloody cleaver knife in his hand from that night at the opera, she could tell he wasn’t much for taking days and nights off. Kento Nanami was certainly a man operating under a lot of stress.

“I can’t name anyone on the top of my head with a water curse technique,” he vexed tiredly, observing the porcelain tea set. “A diving team will have to be dispatched. Damn. It’s always a risk when we get non-sorcerers involved.”

“But maybe we won’t have to,” Hannah said, complexion brightening. “Because as it were, I know someone who might be able to help us. That is, if we can persuade her.”

Nanami’s hand fell to his lap, eyes raised. “Her?”

Hannah rested her teacup on the coffee table and hurriedly rummaged through her dress pocket for a folded piece of paper. She offered it to him.

“Her.”

Feeling pessimistic, Nanami took the paper and slowly opened it. His eyes landed on the contact’s name above, and thus the part-time jujutsu sorcerer’s face tensed into a shrewd scowl. He exhaled loudly through his nose.

A bowl of that rødgrød didn’t seem like such a bad fix all of a sudden.

Neither did some brandy.

Chapter Contents

[livingsolutio]

The Ultimate Guide to Furniture Shopping in Singapore

Explore Local Furniture Stores

Singapore is home to a plethora of local furniture stores that offer unique, high-quality pieces. Shops like Naiise and Scanteak provide a range of stylish, contemporary furniture. Naiise, known for its local artisan products, features a variety of handmade and sustainable furniture, while Scanteak specializes in Danish-inspired designs that are both functional and aesthetic. Local stores often offer personalized service and customization options, making them a great choice for finding pieces that perfectly match your style.

Visit Multi-Brand Furniture Malls

For a more extensive selection, consider visiting multi-brand furniture malls such as IKEA and * Courts*. IKEA is a global giant known for its affordable, stylish furniture and innovative designs. furniture singapore The Singapore stores are no exception, offering everything from sleek Scandinavian pieces to practical storage solutions. Courts, another popular choice, provides a range of furniture styles and prices, along with occasional sales and promotions that can help you get the best value for your money.

Consider Online Furniture Shopping

The rise of e-commerce has made online furniture shopping increasingly popular in Singapore. Websites like HipVan and Castlery offer a convenient way to browse and purchase furniture from the comfort of your home. HipVan is known for its modern, trendy furniture and frequent discounts, while Castlery offers a blend of contemporary and classic styles, with options for customizing fabrics and finishes. Online shopping provides the advantage of home delivery and often features customer reviews, helping you make informed decisions.

Embrace Singapore’s Design Diversity

Singapore’s furniture market reflects its multicultural society, offering a diverse range of design influences. From minimalist Scandinavian designs to luxurious, ornate pieces inspired by traditional Asian styles, there is something for everyone. Consider exploring stores that focus on specific styles, such as The Mango Tree, which offers elegant, classic Asian-inspired furniture, or The Rustic Furniture, known for its handcrafted, rustic pieces.

 

 

Look for Sustainable and Eco-Friendly Options

As environmental awareness grows, many Singaporean furniture stores are embracing sustainability. Brands like Greenlam and EcoHouse provide eco-friendly furniture options made from recycled or sustainably sourced materials. Investing in sustainable furniture not only benefits the environment but often ensures a higher level of craftsmanship and durability.

Think About Space and Functionality

Singapore’s compact living spaces require thoughtful furniture choices. When shopping, consider pieces that are both space-saving and multifunctional. Items such as expandable dining tables, modular sofas, and storage beds can help maximize your space while providing practical solutions. Stores like Rattan House and Dwell offer versatile furniture designed to fit seamlessly into smaller homes.

Don’t Forget to Compare Prices

Before making a purchase, it’s essential to compare prices across different stores and platforms. Many furniture stores offer seasonal sales, discounts, and bundle deals, which can significantly impact your overall cost. Utilize online comparison tools and visit multiple stores to ensure you’re getting the best deal.

Seek Professional Advice

If you’re unsure about your choices, consider seeking professional advice. Coffee Table Singapore Interior designers and furniture consultants in Singapore can provide valuable insights and help you select pieces that suit your space and style. Many furniture stores also offer design consultations, which can be a helpful resource in making your final decisions.

[joyner111]

Range of household products from Daneey

Daneey is a brand that focuses on transforming lifestyles through home textiles, offering a variety of products designed to bring comfort and convenience to your home . Their range of household products includes:

Home Textiles: Defined as items that can redefine the comfort of home living, such as back support headboard pillows made from cotton and available in colors like deep blue, starting at a price of $75.95.

Playsets: Soft and safe foam building blocks for children, designed for both play and development, priced at $99.99.

Adjustable Sofa Beds: Multi-piece floor sofa beds that are adjustable and suitable for both living room and bedroom rest, priced at $169.99.

Pet Supplies: Daneey takes pride in offering a premium selection of pet supplies, aiming to elevate pet care excellence. Their offerings include cozy and stylish pet beds and interactive toys that promote well-being and enrich the environment for pets.

Daneey's commitment to customer satisfaction is evident in their services, which include a 60-day extended return period, a 30-day free return policy, and guaranteed best deals through their price protection policy. Customer support is available from Monday to Friday, 9 am to 7 pm.

For those interested in exploring more about home furniture and accessories, HAY is a Danish design brand offering a wide range of household products including furniture for various rooms in a house, outdoor furniture, and home accessories like textiles, decor, and kitchenware. Their product categories cover a comprehensive selection for furnishing and accessorizing a home.

In the context of global furniture markets, household products are categorized into living room furniture, bedroom furniture, kitchen and dining furniture, outdoor furniture, home office furniture, and lighting, indicating a diverse array of items available for home furnishing and decoration.

[retrogalleri]

1960s, Danish design by Georg Thams for Vejen Polstermøbelfabrik. Completely renovated-reupholstered 3-seater sofa model 53. Brand new upholstery according to original design. Quality Nevotex charcoal gray furniture wool "Glasgow". Renewed teak legs, original springs in the seat are retained. Manufactured by a Danish furniture manufacturer in about 1965s. Reupholstered by professional furniture upholsterer, craftsman.

[wtfcraigslistnyc]

TRIPLE DIPPED IN FILTH

BY

UZIEGO AKA ZAC DÜNN

Triple dipped in the filth

A wealth of savage information

The cubicle walls had grown much too tall.

Like the zenith of JESUS casting his mighty stone glare upon the Neolithic moment the cave man saw his shadow. Uptown scrawling as the flies circle the remains. Cord on blue and brand spanking new, reevaluating incantations so sweetly spoken on knobby knees.

Corrosive fluids drip and create vast puddles the pedestrians slip upon, septic lines intercrossing the perimeter. Parabolas cascade choky fire man hole covers under the blankets. She has a wank then made a pound of bacon. The coffee is always BUSTELLO. Somewhere behind the dumpster lived a man of behemoth fragrance and fortitude. His name was DEMPSY.

He was born and raised in the OLD NORTH END.

After a tour in NAM he ended up back on the streets of the NORTH END. He tried to stay out of trouble, but trouble always had a way of finding him. Days turned into years in a blink.

One day panhandling, whilst inhaling a half eaten danish, a sweet lady had given him, a tall clean cut gentleman approached him. He asked him if he was hungry. DEPSEY looked back into his face with his cold blue eyes, chewing a chaw of danish.. SURE… The man motioned for him to stand up and follow him. DEPSEY did so…

They walked several blocks toward the lake and they came upon the man’s CADILLAC. The man unlocked the doors and they lumbered inside. The man offered DEPSEY a bottle of JOHNNY WALKER BLACK LABEL. DEPSEY gladly took the bottle and cracked the top. He looked out the window and cased his surroundings prior to lifting the jug of booze to his lips. He took a solid swill that lasted every bit of 5 seconds…

The man smiled and asked DEPSY if he’d like to make some money at his cabin entertaining friends. DEPSY had just come off a particularly ruff week. DOUGLAS DUCHARME had smashed in both of DEPSY’s front teeth then stole his backpack. The irony is that DEPSY had stolen the backpack from some bird who was doing her boyfriends laundry and was forgetful. He felt tuff rolling around in the pinstriped overalls and BEASTIE BOYS T SHIRT. Like one of the fellas out innit, tryna holler at girls and get a slice of the pie.

The man said he would need to “perform” again but DEPSY was beyond blind eyed drunk almost instantly. He closed the bottle and took a gruff snort. JUST SO LONG AS NO ONE TRIES TO RAPE ME I DON’T CARE… The man grinned then belted out a large chuckle in an almost

diabolical manner.

OH, NO RAPE OF ANY KIND, CROSS MY HEART.

The car sped onward toward to cabin on the other side of lake.

DEPSY awoke as the car pulled up to the palatial wooden cabin. The man spoke softly and said… WE’RE HERE.. DEPSY yawned as it was now the afternoon and the booze had given him desperately need vitality to soldier forward and command the fields of carnage that lay ahead…

The man slowly proceeded toward to front door of the cabin. It occurred to DEPSY as he staggered toward the cabin, that he was completely out of his element… Sadly his element was being exposed to the elements and the brutally of strangers, but it was his place none the less… He was utterly unaware of where he was or how he'd gotten there or where he was. He figured that where there’s one bottle of BLACK LABEL, there’s most likely another

Innit somewhere.

They stepped through the threshold and entered the massive, grand lodge of cabin. A giant mounted BUFFALO greeted them.

DEPSY asked for a glass and some ice. The man scurried off across the creaky wood floor to fletch an appropriate vessel. When he returned DEPSY had made himself comfortable on a giant leather sofa. He felt important clutching his bottle and receiving the heavy vessel with crisp ice cubes that clicked and clacked as he poured the sauce over the ice. He held up the glass so as to take in the room and savor the nectar he held in his paw. Suddenly a thud clapped the back of his noggin.

When he awoke he was naked. He was tired to a chair surrounded by naked people in hoods all muttering something. He tired to make out their words, but to no avail. His head felt like mud. His eyelids felt extremely heavy. It seemed immediately that he’d been drugged with something.., butt naked and high as a kite on some horse, tied to a goddaM chair…

WHAT KIND OF PUDFING DID YOU PUT YER PECKER INTO THIS TIME DEPSY.., he though, speaking to himself in 3rd person..

He’d done his dance with the dragon while train hopping and stealing cattle to escape the law in BOSEMAN.

It’s of relevance to note while DEPSY had effectively been vomited out of the MILITARY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX into the bowls of the old NORTH END. Masochistically forced to March like all the other home bum zombies. Begging for change, eating free church meals grabbing what goods could be clutched up at all junctures.

He’d been raised by his father the traveling salesman. Selling aluminum siding and driveway sealant any moron could do themselves. The GRIFT ran deep in his blood.

The old man sold the Irish sweepstakes tricks back BROOKLYN on FLATBUSH AVE as kid.

His DAD had been a longshoreman. The docks were a blaze with debauchery and hi jinx galore. The trucks would pull up and the fellas all filled out like rabid hounds.

Tearing about the cans and looting anything and everything in sight. Whole trucks would just disappear and reappear. It was a different time. But the OLD MAN eventually drank one too many and knocked the ever loving puss outta some fella and killed em.

It was an accident but then he got upset and kicked the shit out of the dude to make sure he was dead before removing his member and urinating all over his blood splattered face.

It was a mess so he chose to burn the bar down and leave NEW YORK. He took a boat to the MALDEVES. A buddy helped him get on a crew with phony docs and he was gone. Like a rat on CANAL in the swarm at dawn. A ghost who served up the final ass wooping for an unwitting BAFOON. He too would turn into a ghost with his fists and lack of wits.

Once he hit land, he swore to never get on a ship again. He kissed the beach and cried for an hour. His eyes burned and he felt like he was falling because he couldn’t stop crying. The captain stood over him shaking his head briefly before leaving him to sob alone. Eventually a switch flipped inside him and he stopped crying and stood up. He walked to the tiny town. From there he found a work and wife before stowing passage back to the states several years later and moving BURLINGTON, VERMONT.

It was slowly becoming apartment to DEMPSY that his situation was most certain.. as the of JOHNNY walked away, he could hear the people muttering and start to have coitus all around him. The floor began to ooze and he remembered feeling dopey when his eyes opened..

The roar of undulating flesh and growling was relentless.. one lady in particular seemed determined to out do EVERYONE.. eventually he became aware of a very tall naked man with a giant BUFFALO head upon his shoulders.. he moved slowly with intent amongst the slithering round the room to trigger the invoication…

The magus took long, confident strides. Commanding the room as he moved closer to the alter..All the disgusting smashing abruptly stopped…

The magus spoke:

WE ARE ONE

WE ARE NONE

(the people respond in a shrill scream)

WE ARE THEY

THEY WHO LIVE TODAY

WE WILL DIE

BUT ONLY AFTER WE TRY

WHAT IS BORN

CAN NEVER DIE

THE LIGHT IN-EXTENTION

INSIDE OF ME

IS THE LIGHT

INSIDE THE TREE

As each phrase and response was spoken the people blasted out the words slowly and loudly. The resonance of the many voice drifting chaotically in and out of dissonant frequency.

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK…

DEPSY thought to himself. The invocation finished and all the people exhaled as one and collapsed to the filthy fluid kissed floor. The thud was followed by them grinding there faces into the floor. A low whimpering Bega in to bubble.

DEPSY was remarkablely calm through out this all, thanks largely to the THOROZINE and KETAMINE cocktail they blasted into his ASS..

GUYS, LOOK.. IT’S NOT SO BAD! YOU GOT EACH OTHER! QUIT CRYING! I DIDN’T CRY WHEN I CAUGHT MY BALLS IN MY FLY THE OTHER DAY. OH, SURE I LET OUT A YELP, BUT NONE A BOO HOO’E BULLSHIT!!! LOOK AT YOURSELVES!!

The wailing and sobbing intensified. Growing slowly to deafening roar.. The MAGUS stood watch over his flock. He lifted his left index finger and made a huge circle, then stepped through it. He clapped both his hands at full force in front of him, stepped forward again, closer to DEPSY.

The MAGUS began to speak in a brick hard tone.

YOU ARE THE FOOL

THE NEOPHYTE

BROUGHT BEFORE THIS

COVEN TO BARE WITNESS

TO CONSECRATE THIS

RITUAL AND EXTEND

OUR LIGHT FROM

THE VOID INTO

THE WAKING WORLD

WE TOAST YOU

ON MOST HIGH

YOU TOOK SO

MANY STEPS TO

GET TO THIS PLACE

WE MEAN YOU NO ILL

BUT INSTEAD INVITE YOU

TO CLEANSE YOURSELF

IN THE HEALING

WATERS OF OUR

HOT SPRING BATHS

The people grew quiet as the MAGUS spoke.

They rose like flowers growing in time lapse. He could feel sweaty flesh touching his hands and feet, unbending him from the chair. A voluptuous woman stood before him in all her glorious bounty. She extended her splendid hand to DEPSY and softly spoke.,

PLEASE COME WITH ME DEPSY

DEPSY gave his noggin a solid shake and pressed his heels into the wet floor to stand. He put out his weathered catchers mitt and placed it into her smooth, cool palm. She made a sound but it was like a delicate hum of recognition.

They slowly strolled out of the room which was actually a large barn behind the property. They walked with everyone else to the lake and another huge building with large glass windows. Inside they all slipped into the natural hot spring pools that were there. Looking out across the lake from the pool the MAGIS entered last. He circled the pool as the people began heavy petting. A gooie slaughshing and clapping of the liquid surface begin distrusted ensued. The people formed a loose GUYER and began to rotate and penetrate each other whilst circling DEPSY at the center of the MALESTROM.

The MAGUS slowly circled the people and the circumference of the pool. DEPSY was bathed in the fluids and mineral essence of the mountain. The sun hardened flesh of his face melted the years of struggle clean away instantly. His rickety knees, that normally buckled as he walked felt strong again. His stumpy hobbit feet clutched the coarse concrete surface of the pool. His piggies wiggled limber like a toddler’s.. he looked down into the gregarious mating-ball of human flesh undulating hypnotically around him. The woman who led him from the chair placed her fingers on his ear, then leaned in. Slowly biting the lower meat of his ear lobe where is small gold pirate ear ring was. She made the ring clink against her toungue piercing. She slowly recoiled and released her grip. Blowing a breath delicately back into his ear. She spoke in a delicious low and tender blanket voice.

THANK YOU DEPSY

WE TOAST YOU

ON MOST HIGH

YOU HONOR US

BY REMINDING US

THAT THE STEP

WE TAKE NEXT

WE TAKE INTO

THE LIGHT

BRAVE AND CLEAN

WITH HEARTS BRIMMING

WITH LOVE

AND HANDS

STRONG ENOUGH

TO PERRY THE

HEAVY LOAD ACROSS THE BADLANDS

TO CARRY THE FIRE

AS YOU HAVE DEPSY

THE RICH MAN

IS A PAUPER

WHO KNOWS NOT

THE EYES OF THE MOST MIGHTY MOUSE THST EVER WAS A MC WHO BRAVED THE WILDERNESS AND HOBO JUNGLE

WHO SHALL RAISE UP FROM THESE HEALING WATERS AND BE OUR KING

DEPSY looked deep into her eyes and grin as large as he could through his scruffy ginger mustache. He slowly leaned into her and gave her a long, slow, passionate kiss. He was recoiled and held her against his hersute naked frame. Taking in the splashing pool more like a bit of chummed waters with some REEF SHARKS having a nip and saying HELLO.

He took a long slow breathe knowing that he was free. Free of the maze he’d been born into. He was no longer an INVALID PERSON unworthy of pity or compassion. He was a KING. He hadn’t the foggiest what that meant but he was finally feeling the horse clop off to greener pastures.. He quickly clapped his hands and proclaimed..

YOUR KING

IS THIRSTY!!!

BLACK LABEL

ROCKS STAT!!!

YOU BUFFALO HEAD GUY

WHAT THE SHIT

TAKE THAT THING OFF

AND GET YOUR ASS

TO THAT BBQ

AND FIRE IT UP

DADDY’S HOME

AND HUNGRY

[charlie-rulerofhell]

For they know exactly what they do

Today there was a pretty long article published in the German newspaper FAZ, written by Julia Schaaf. Since there were quite a few interesting topics raised in it and Måneskin talked about some new aspects (or in more detail), I translated the whole thing (it might also have helped me to procrastinate).

Full interview in English under the cut.

For they know exactly what they do

June 22, 2021

Four young rock musicians from Rome are today's hottest band. Måneskin are enchanting Europe. Why? We met them for an interview.

Every romance needs its founding myth, an anecdote from the beginning, something you can tell later in more difficult times for self-assurance.

In the case of the band Måneskin, who first had Italy and now half of Europe wrapped around their fingers, and who are now trying to conquer the rest of the world with their rock music, there is the story of the shoe box. Rome, around five years ago: Four teenagers who are meeting every day after school in their rehearsal room to make music together, and sometimes they play their songs on the Via del Corso in the city centre in front of a changing audience. One day they want to record their own stuff. They find a studio that they can actually afford and as they go there they bring a shoe box, with the name of the band written on it, 'moonshine' in Danish, the bassist's mother is Danish. In the box: around seven kilogram of coins. The things you get from playing music on the streets. Everyone searching through Instagram for photos from that time can find four hippies with children's faces, three boys in batik, the girl is wearing a straw hat.

As they have to pay [for the recording], frontman Damiano David, 22, says that there was this guy, Angelo, and his bandmate Victoria De Angelis, 21, is interrupting: “No, Andrea, not Angelo”, and all of them have to laugh because a rigid studio manager with the Italian name 'angel' would be even funnier for a founding myth. David continues his story: “The guy was completely dumbfounded. 'We can't do that.' We went: 'Sure we can, that's worth the same even if it's just 20 cent coins, it's still 300 euros.” Thomas Raggi, 20, the guitarist of the band, is gasping for air as he laughs, while drummer Ethan Torchio, 20, is smiling dreamily. David finishes: “And then we snuck off before he was able to count it.” [the German text says 'verdrücken' here which is just a colloquial way of saying 'we left', but it entails some sort of a dramatic exit, so yeah, let your thoughts get creative how they left exactly :D].

Four young musicians on the verge of global fame are sitting on a white interview sofa in Berlin, completely styled, babbling across each other like overeager teenagers.

Ever since the Roman band first won the music festival Sanremo and then also the Eurovision Song Contest, carried by the enthusiasm of European viewers, you could say Måneskin has become a phenomenon. “Rock 'n' Roll never dies!”, Damiano David yelled fueled by the adrenaline of winning, and the insinuation that circulated on social media of the singer snorting during the counting of votes in front of a live camera – including their strict denial followed by a negative drug test result – might have given an additional boost to their public interest, their exploding album, ticket and merch sales, and their outstanding success on Spotify.

“We think it's a shit prejudice against rock music that there always have to be drugs involved. We fully threw ourselves into our participation with the utmost professionalism. We give everything for the music. So of course we don't want people to think that we can only do that because we take drugs.” – Victoria De Angelis

Prior to Eurovision, Måneskin was more of an insider's tip outside of Italy. Handmade rock music, not creating something entirely new but paying homage to the good old times with classic guitar riffs and cracking drum beats, being a lot of fun but also quite fragile and vulnerable at times and, first and foremost, conveying a captivating energy. Finally, on the stage of Rotterdam, live after so many months of isolation and renunciation, this wave of energy spilled straight over into European living rooms. It seemed easy to (mistakenly) interpret the winning song “Zitti e buoni” (Shut up and behave) as a declaration of frustration of our youth in times of a pandemic. In fact, singer Damiano David is singing about the favourite topic of the band: the unrelenting need to, against all odds, be yourself, despite or perhaps because you are different. The message fits their provocative sex appeal, which the band uses to demonstrate their independence of gender norms at any given time. But the core essence of rock music has always been the promise of unlimited freedom.

Thus at the first moment, the meeting with Måneskin is kind of startling. It's Wednesday, we are in the top floor of the new Sony head quarters in Berlin. The four Italians have just started their two-week long promotion tour through Europe. In the afternoon there will be a live concert in a queer club [the SchwuZ, but that's not mentioned here] in Neukölln, which will be streamed via TikTok. Around one million viewers will watch the show, some of them even from Brazil, so people at Sony are pretty excited [for Måneskin to come here]. But at first, these stunningly gorgeous creatures [yes, that's the exact wording :D] are standing surrounded by an entourage of people – their management, PR team, a stylist, a photographer, people who can hold a smartphone or a cigarette if needed [this paragraph is worded a little weirdly, especially taking into account that basically their whole team / 'entourage' is just friends of them, but it seems like the journalist didn't know that or maybe they just wanted to describe their first impression]. They seem like fictional / artificial characters out of a Hollywood movie. Transparent frill blouses with blazers and flared leather trousers, even the platform boots, everything brand-new, the makeup makes their faces look like a glossy magazine cover even in person. The smokey eyes of De Angelis and Raggi make them look smug and bored. Later, on the pictures it will probably look cool.

So of course your first impression might be: This band is under contract to industry giant Sony ever since their success on an Italian casting show [X Factor] in Winter 2017. The music industry must have its hand in the game when a band is photographed half-naked by Oliviero Toscani and styled by Etro. Also, one does not simply rent a villa with a pool in Rome to produce new music there, isolated from the rest of the world. And who else went to London for two whole months, shortly before the winter lockdown, just for inspiration? After the TikTok concert in Berlin – De Angelis and David are now wearing fishnet shirts that sparkle with every move, their bare nipples covered with an X of black tape – the band is posing with a few influencers. In the world of social media you would call that 'producing content'. But what does that mean for a band who are preaching their hosanna of authenticity? How authentic is Måneskin? And is their pointedly casual approach to sexuality and gender cliches in today's pop-cultural spirit more than a marketing strategy?

We're in the interview, the recording device is running for not even five minutes, when Victoria De Angelis says: “Actually, we just try to be ourselves and do what we really want to do.” And really: The more you listen to those four how they speak about the early days of the band in their slurred Roman dialect, about the shoe box and their own experiences with being different, but most importantly about their shared obsession [with music], the more you realise that [De Angelis] is  very serious. Ethan Torchio, who got his first drum kit at the age of six or seven from his father because he was beating everything he could reach, says: “For me, music is like food. I cannot live without it.” The bassist next to him laughs at his pathos. Singer Damiano David applauds the otherwise more reserved friend for his truthfulness [it says 'klarer Punkt', meaning 'for the point he makes', but it makes it seem like Damiano is agreeing with Ethan here, although it doesn't indicate whether he agrees that yes, music is everything for Ethan or that he understands and feels the same].

De Angelis and guitarist Raggi already knew each other from middle school and they were the ones who tried to form a band at the age of only 13, a band that actually took music seriously.

De Angelis: “It's just difficult at that age to find other people who really put everything into music and who truly commit themselves and are willing to invest a lot of their time.”

Raggi: “We set strict rules and scheduled fixed times for the rehearsals, for every day.”

David: “Fever, stomach ache, there was no excuse. Even if you were feeling sick in the rehearsal room. At least you were in the rehearsal room.”

The way the four of them talk across each other, completing each other's sentences, taking turns in talking and sometimes joking about each other, seems intimate and playful. Singer David remembers how at first bassist [De Angelis] was merciless towards him when it came to her first metal band project, as she told him that he wasn't committed enough [to the music]: “Back then I was still playing Basketball. I was one of the people that Vic absolutely didn't want [in her band].” Drummer Torchio was later discovered through Facebook, even though there had already been a drummer, a close friend, but he was not good enough. It seems as if even back then music was everything for them. Even if it meant that only Raggi managed to graduate.

And why rock, why rock music of all things? Because it's great, the four of them say in unison. David adds: “Actually, it's a genre that allows you to do everything you want to do.”

When they played on the street, they were laughed at by their classmates. But not only there. De Angelis explains that she never wanted to be a typical girl: “I was always deterred by those stupid boxes that people put you in, and that are just restricting and constraining you, because something is only regarded as male or female. I always rejected that. Instead, I just wanted to do the things I enjoyed doing, I went skating and played football.” Torchio says: “Friends who are not friends anymore were already telling me at the age of ten that those“ – he grabs his long, silky black hair – “were wrong. Because I'm a boy and boys are meant to have short hair, long hair is only for girls. I was bullied a lot for that.”

“Compared to the past, people in our age became much more open-minded. It gets better.” – Thomas Raggi

Frontman David on the other hand, for whom eye shadow, jingling earrings and nail polish as well as his bare torso with the tattoos have become trademarks by now, says: “I was actually more of the average boy.” De Angelis convinced him to try out some eyeliner, which he describes as a spiritual awakening: “I liked myself much more [with makeup]. I saw myself more as myself. As if it had been a suppressed desire of mine.” On a trip to Copenhagen with the others, when he realised that it really didn't matter what people were thinking about him, he got his first fake fur [coat? the article doesn't specify that] in a second-hand shop and let his clothing style be guided by his own love to experiment: “I realised that my whole life I was just going at half speed.” When it comes to diversity all four of them are becoming almost missionary.

At the same time, their success is not only opening doors for them. Back home in Rome they are barely able to go out on the street due to all the paparazzi. “[You need a] hoodie and huge sunglasses”, David says, “the mask is quite helpful, too.” And still, none of them is complaining, and Torchio explains why: “Even if those experiences right now may have sides that are not so pleasant, we still know that for us a dream is coming true. We experience something that we always had in our minds, so we are willing to face every consequence that this entails.”

So is the band facing difficult times, is Måneskin going to change with all the success? Again, all of them answer at the same time.

David: “I'm not worried about that.”

Raggi: “No way!”

De Angelis: “On the contrary. Everything that happened to us happened because we are who we are, so we want to continue the exact same way and stay ourselves.”

Just a few hours later, they are at the stage in Neukölln, bouncing around like pinballs, hammering at their instruments, flirting with each other. “We are out of our minds, but different from the others”, David sings their winning hymn against conformism, and: “The people talk, unfortunately they talk.” Here on stage, the four paradise birds [a German word describing someone with a flamboyant personality] with their half-nude-glittering outfits are radiating an incredible energy with the utmost sincerity, and you begin to wish there was a live audience instead of the TikTok cameras, absorbing and spreading this energy. Måneskin. A cry for a life after the pandemic, a cry for freedom and a better world.

“We do what we wished for all our lives.” – Ethan Torchio

[apatojp]

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[lothirielswan]

“Wanna Smell Books with Me?” [19]

Join the journey on AO3 too!

Quest Objective: Someone please hold Jaina's beer.

~Wrathion, the Violet Citadel~

“You have what was promised?”

The banners of lilac and cobalt churned at the top of the alabaster steps. Torches played games with shadows across the floor. Dalaran was known for its knowledge, and yet everything seemed hidden by a layer of smoke.

Grand Magister Rommath gestured with his hands, and a wooden crate settled on the cold ground.

Left and Right guarded the staircase at the bottom, so no one would interfere with our transaction. Anyone who came close was given a death stare along with a long rifle pointed at their nose. Such ferocity. Such power.

I lifted a talon. Two more agents descended from the shadows and cracked open the lid with their blades. Rommath raised a slender eyebrow, but gave no reply.

The artifact rested on cushions of silk. It's intricate golden design was uncanny, created by beings of much higher thinking. Certain parts of the strange machine gave off a soft glow. There was a subtle familiarity to it; it looked exactly like my visions from the Thunder King.

“Our archeologists scoured Northrend, the Badlands, Uldum. We found the pieces scattered throughout.” The Grand Magister explained. His features were bathed in twilight hues of gold, azure and violet that made up the room. The dark velvet of my robes were sun-kissed by the gleam of the artifact, like the first rays of dawn. A new beginning.

I hummed with satisfaction. No more hiding. No more shame. The Black Dragonflight will reclaim what is rightfully ours.  

“It was a pleasure doing business, Grand Magister,” His title rolled off my tongue. I snapped my fingers, and two more lackeys emerged from the darkness of the room to carry the crate out of sight. Rommath’s quirked eyebrow grew more rigid.

“You have an abundance of recruits.” He said.

I lightly shrugged my shoulders with a pinch of modesty. “I’m comfortable. I’m afraid you can't say the same.”

I heard of the plight of the sin’dorei. The filthy remains of the Scourge still ran across their homeland, and the elves’ numbers were few. It was a shame, such powerful sorcerers turned to arcane addicts. They did not wander ruins simply for the joy of finding lost artifacts.

Rommath did not appear pleased to bring up the state of his homeland. “That is not a Black dragon’s business.”

“But it could be.” I said.

The bare muscles of his arms stiffened. Rommath muttered, “In what way?”

“I have plans, Grand Magister. Plans that will change the course of Azeroth,” Said I. I was poised and proud, shoulders out as if I had my wings on display.

“Your people are near extinction; I can modify that. Your forces can join mine, and I will reward you.”

Rommath was silent for a moment. “You sound like the Betrayer.”

Illidan Stormrage. Another famous figure. I never had the luxury to meet the former Lord of Outland, but he surely lived up to his reputation during the Legion’s recent invasion.

I replied, “The Betrayer did what was necessary to achieve a higher goal; he opposed the Legion-–”

“And many died in that campaign.” Rommath took another step closer. His fists were clenched like two threatening boulders of marble. The bridge of his nose creased like cracked alabaster. “Many suffered. Many are still paying the price. I would caution you with whatever plot you have come up with.”

“...So that's a no on joining me?” I remarked, unfazed by his closeness and the pain laced within his voice.

The Grand Magister’s head cocked to the side. “The fate of my people is not for me to decide; that is the Regent Lord’s will, what little remains of it. I will inform him of your offer, and the costs.”

Rommath gave a curt nod with his scarf still covering his lips, a last mockery that I still did not know everything he did.

His back was to me when I called out one last time. “Grand Magister?”

His shoulders slumped from exhaustion, and faced me with his expression still disguised behind scarlet silk. “Yes, Black Prince?”

My lips curled into a smile, baring my teeth with sharp points to be persuasive. “I urge you to consider my proposal. I doubt your people would like to be on the wrong side of history a second time.”

Rommath’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you should follow your own advice.”

~Eona, the Purple Parlor~

“Jaina, please-–”

“No. Jaina’s not here right now. Jaina’s on vacation.” Jaina held up a cautionary finger as she slumped down into one of the padded chairs. Her interest moved to the bookshelf near her as I pleaded with her.

“I don't know where Khadgar is and I got a bad-omens vibe from Chromie! Please? I’ll pay you back for the danish.” I replied.

Jaina shot me a foul look at the mere mention of the pastry. But she didn't answer. Instead, Jaina pulled a random book from the shelves, opened it, and hid her face behind the cover.

“Oh,” She moaned into the ink-smothered parchment filled with knowledge. “I miss that smell. I miss books. I miss my youth.”

I lowered her book so I could meet her gaze. “You’re still incredibly young.”

“Ha!” Jaina settled back in her chair and propped her feet up on the nearest table. “Young. What is young? Innocence. Ambition. Love…”

Her fingers suddenly clenched the leather cover of the novel. “Arthas is dead.”

I flinched and felt a pang of guilt. I managed a breathy response, “Yes, he is.”

Jaina gently tugged at the bottom of her braid. So much of her blonde locks had been consumed by the frosty white arcane. Her eyes were black and blue, like ice in the dark. Her voice was melodic like a river, and it had been frozen over. She was still young. But she looked exhausted, like the years had feasted on her spirit.

“It's an odd thing to say, but...I feel like him now.” Jaina’s attention was lost to some illusion that I could not see. Her fingers twitched towards the brooch. “Arthas, he was such a contradiction. He loved his people. He fought undead. He opposed dreadlords. Then he changed. He killed his people. He lead the undead. He took orders from dreadlords.”

Jaina stroked the crest with her thumb. “And now here I am. I used to have faith that everything would work out alright. I used to have faith in myself. Now...”

She shook her head, not for long, but with intensity, as if she could banish the thoughts like one could wring blood out of a healer’s rag. “Now I'm young. And my youth is gone.”

I didn't know what to say. I stole a chair from the other side of the table and dragged it next to hers. At random I plucked a book from one of the shelves and glanced over at her.

I bit my lip as I held up the novel. “Wanna smell books with me…?”

Jaina’s eyes were glassy as she stared at the cover. She nodded, a small smile on her lips. She wiped at her eyes. “I thought you would never ask.”

Our arms brushed together as I opened the first page and started to read. Yes, Khadgar and Dalaran needed us. But Jaina needed this more.

“The girl’s fiance dies in that one.” Jaina remarked.

I looked up at her smirk. “This is what I get for stealing your danish?”

“You brought a bookworm along to smell books, Eona. You should’ve known that something would get spoiled.”

~*~

We were still reading in the Purple Parlor when the air thickened from a teleportation spell. Arcane crackled across my skin and light filled the chamber.

I blinked a few times, stunned by the new change in the atmosphere. Jaina was used to the way of magics and was already standing, staff in hand. Her expression turned grim.

“Khadgar!” I ran to him as I made out his form.

I caught his arm as he stumbled, feeling the coldness of his skin through his dark blue robes. He was pale, and his forehead glistened with sweat as he swayed on his feet.

Archmages Modera and Aethas materialized on his sides. They wore the same drained expressions. Jaina helped Modera down as Khadgar teetered in my grasp.

“Eona...you never told me you had sisters,” Khadgar gasped. I held onto his arms, trying to still him as best as I could.

“Huh?” I said.

“Yes,” Khadgar held up a finger, pointing to the air around me. “There’s three of you...am I counting right? Aethas! What do your elf eyes see?”

“Stars...so many stars...” Aethas groaned and yanked off his hood to massage his temples.

I lead Khadgar to a one-armed sofa as he spoke in his dreamy state of delirium. “You know, I bet if Sylvanas raised me from the dead...I’d be like Beetlejuice.”

I sat the Archmage down and frowned as I leaned over him. “Please don't give me that mental image, Khadgar.”

“No, it's perfect! You can be Lydia! IT’S SHOWTIME-–wee!” I urged Khadgar down to lie on the sofa, smoothing out his hair as I did so.

I glanced over at Jaina as she examined the other two mages.

“What happened to them?” I asked. I wonder if Anduin is still here. He’s a skilled healer, he might know.  

“You know, Eona, you smell really nice.” Khadgar rasped below me. “Kind of like strawberries. Which is funny, you look like a strawberry. You’re covered in seeds…”

I crossed my arms. My white linen shirt came down to my elbows, so the freckles drizzled across my arms were still visible.

“Where were you last, Modera?” I heard Jaina ask.

I joined the two mages across the parlor. Modera seemed less hysterical than Khadgar, but just as exhausted.

“Violet Hold,” She gasped. “the prisoners escaped...we went to track them...they trapped us there. Kalecgos is still with them-–”

My eyes flew open. Jaina and I exchanged a look.

“–-then we faced the Vampyr…” Modera’s head tipped back as she gulped in air.

Jaina nudged my arm. She didn't need to. The two red dots on Modera’s neck said it all. I sprinted back to Khadgar. His skin was branded with the same two marks.

“Aethas too,” Jaina said quietly, smoothing her robes as she stood upright.

We backed away from the three limp mages, watching as their movements seemed to slow.

“If they…” I swallowed. “does that mean they’re stuck that way?”

“No. We have spells to remove it, and it's usually temporary. I can ask Anduin or Malfurion to tend to them.” Jaina glanced up at her own staff, then quickly retrieved the long weapons from where the mages lay.

I nodded, moving my hair away from the front of my face. As I did so, Khadgar leaned up slightly, sniffing the air.

“What about Kalec?” I said.

Jaina returned to my side with their staffs and her eyes flickered over the sleeping bodies. “We’ll get him together. I’ll meet you at Violet Hold. Let’s clean up the Kirin Tor’s mess before the summit has the chance to notice.”

We stepped back into the shimmering portal and our feet echoed as we appeared at the staircase of the Violet Citadel. Jaina raced towards the Anduin; I took the steps two at a time with my thoughts on Kalec.

I squinted as a familiar face lingered at the bottom of the steps. Grand Magister Rommath looked to my coming, his eyes analyzing me like a spellbook.

“Eona, I must speak with you.” He said as I was halfway down the mountain of steps. My calves were burning and I didn't care. Kalec’s face kept flashing before my eyes.

“I'm sorry, now is not a good time.” I remarked.

“It’s important-–”

“Then we’ll discuss it later.” I finally reached the bottom of the stairs and sped past him.

“You are going to slip if you move too swiftly, Lady Sunstrider.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I love cliffhangers :3

Chromie: Me too! Although, I usually see them coming with my powers, but they're still entertaining--but that's not why I'm here. Author, you're messing with the timestreams!

Author: Don't worry, I have a permit.

Chromie: I'm sorry, Author. That bowl of edible cookie dough that you offered the Bronze Dragonflight was delicious, but it does not allow you to go willy-nilly with the past. The Dark Portal was closed for twenty years, making Eona's existence impossible!

*Awesome freaky lightshow happens. Nozdormu, Lord of Time, appears*

Nozdormu: Author, well met. I must say, your work with this new future for Azeroth is...entertaining, but Chronomu is correct.

Author: Jeez, Marvel didn't have these kinds of laws set up--then again, Deadpool was my co-writer. Protectors of Time, please hear me out! I have a loophole!

Nozdormu: Very well, Author. Do as you must. We will be watching...and if you can spare me a cameo, it would touch this old dragon's heart. You even let Kalecgos have a minor role in this story, and he's practically invisible!

Kalec: ...Thanks.

Author: Will do, Lord Nozdormu! Thanks for stopping by, Chromie! As for you Awesome Adventurers, you can actually witness the first time Eona's parents met now, in the recently updated "Protectors of the Present"! Hope you enjoyed c: love, fortune and glory to you!!

[sounmashnews]

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Shop Gubi @ Olson and Baker, official stockists of the Danish brand Gubi which includes classic designer furniture and lighting from Greta Grossman, Gam Fratesi... https://olsonbaker.com/brands/gubi/ #sofas #armchair #design #interiordesign #sofa #architecture #interior #decor #olsonandbaker #furniture #home #style #luxury #homedecor #photography #interiors #decoration #loungechair #lightingdesign #modern #moderndesign #luxuryhomes #interiors #olsonbaker #interiordesigner #interiorinspiration https://www.instagram.com/p/B9Q39YjhIJm/?igshid=1hmc5rhp5o0q8

[mmdesign1970]

Fritz Hansen Sofa

At MM Design1970, we are not only dedicated to creating a timeless design but we are also dedicated to always delivering the best possible quality design brand whose timeless collection unites world-famous classic and contemporary furniture, lighting, ceramics, art, objects, jewelry, and accessories. Large original fritz Hansen easy chair with new natural sheepskin. The late 1940s. Large stool available as well making it organic and soft to the eye despite its simplicity and strong architectural appeal Fritz Hansen Sofa maintains a dedication to the highest levels of Danish craftsmanship and innovation.

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What’s so special about Cloud Sofa?

The Cloud sofa is one of the highly demanded furniture pieces today. It has a modern and relaxed look with customizable upholstery options to suit your interiors perfectly. With its 100% feather-filled cushions, sitting on the Cloud Sofa feels as soft as floating on the clouds. It has a low frame with round, cloud-like edges, and almost invisible legs for a floaty look and excellent ergonomic comfort for the person sitting.

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Main Source : https://gubichair.wordpress.com/2021/09/13/renovate-your-interiors-with-ferm-living/

[architectnews]

Los Angeles ranch house becomes Zen Den by Working Holiday Studio

The owners of design firm Working Holiday Studio have renovated their own mid-century residence by opening up the kitchen, adding skylights and filling the interior with contemporary decor.

The house, called Zen Den, is located in Woodland Hills, a suburban community in Los Angeles that lies about 20 minutes by car from the beach.

The house is a 1960s ranch-style property

Carlos Naude and Whitney Brown – the couple behind Working Holiday Studio and its companion interior design practice, Working Holiday Spaces – purchased the 1960s, ranch-style house last year during the coronavirus pandemic.

The duo, who have a toddler son, formerly lived in a compact urban residence and desired more space. The house checked many boxes, yet it was in need of a major overhaul.

Skylights were added to the kitchen during the renovation

"We wanted to restore the residence to its original glory while reimagining it for modern living," the couple said, noting that they also served as the project's general contractor, with input from their friend Zach Leigh at Goodboy Develops.

On the exterior, the home's stucco cladding was repaired and repainted. The duo also installed a new roof, along with new windows and patio doors.

Zen Den was designed to double as a furniture and product showroom

Inside, the single-storey, four-bedroom home was gutted. Upgrades were made to the floors, insulation, plumbing and electrical systems, and a significant portion of the drywall.

The team added skylights and reconfigured certain areas of the house. In particular, a wall between the kitchen and the dining room was removed.

"We opened up the kitchen so you could take in the views, added skylights throughout the house to bring in more light, and completely reconfigured and renovated both bathrooms," the designers said.

For the finishes and decor, the duo took inspiration from Japanese, Scandinavian and Mexican design styles. The home is meant to double as a showroom.

A white chair by Noom is included in the living room

"We worked with designers and brands to display their products in our home," the designers said. "We are in the process of creating an online shop where people can buy the products."

The living room is fitted with a rust-coloured, velvet sofa from Normann Copenhagen and a round coffee table with tube-shaped legs from Hedge House. A white accent chair is from Noom, a young studio in Ukraine.

The breakfast nook features a custom terrazzo table

The adjoining dining room has a black marble table from the Mexican brand Casa Quieta, which also supplied the chairs. Overhead is a Mori pendant from Brooklyn's RBW.

In the kitchen, the designers sought out premium materials that would be easy to maintain. The prefabricated cabinets are from the Danish company Reform, and the quartz countertops are from Caesarstone.

A children's bunkbed has a rearrangeable configuration

A breakfast nook features a custom table made of terrazzo from California-based Concrete Collaborative. The terrazzo was actually leftover from a refurbishment of the guest bathroom.

The table has a white oak base – the same wood used to fabricate the surrounding bench. Oak also was used for the flooring throughout the home.

Green ceramic tiles feature in the bathroom

The sleeping areas feature neutral colours and cosy decor. In a kid's bedroom, the designers installed a wooden bunk bed from Oeuf that can be arranged in different configurations.

Bathrooms feature sinks from Concretti, countertops from Concrete Collaborative and ceramic tiles from Fireclay. Kuzco lighting and Kohler fixtures round out the selection.

An outdoor living area includes a large dining table

Given Southern California's pleasant climate, the designers wanted to incorporate an opportunity for indoor-outdoor living. A rear patio is adorned with a sectional sofa from Neighbor and a chunky accent table from Zachary A, along with a custom dining set that seats up to 12.

Other projects by Working Holiday Studio include Casa Miami, an all-white holiday home that stands in stark contrast to its desert setting in California, near Joshua Tree National Park. Like Zen Den, the house is meant to be shoppable, with guests able to purchase the decor via a dedicated website.

The photography is by Candida Wohlgemuth and Carlos Naude.

The post Los Angeles ranch house becomes Zen Den by Working Holiday Studio appeared first on Dezeen.

[connorrenwick]

Floris Hovers Shares How He Reinterpreted the for Red Stitch

Dutch furniture brand Red Stitch enlisted the creative mind of Dutch designer Floris Hovers back in 2019 “to release all conventions and create a new sofa sprung from his free creative mind.” The design process didn’t begin where it normally does with sketches, and instead Floris made a miniature sofa from found materials in his Raamsdonksveer workshop. “Most designers start from an upholstery point of view. I wanted to start with the frame as a focal point,” says Floris. After COVID-19-related delays, the FLOAT Collection has officially launched with a 3-seater sofa, 2-seater sofa, chair and footstool, each comprising two elements – the wooden frame and the upholstered cushions that slide over it. The benefit to the slide on cushions is that they can be changed out for other colors when desired. Speaking of colors, the cushions come in your choice of three colors – Royal 6 – ocre, Royal 9 – green, and Royal 18 – blue – with three frame colors that match – RAL 8001 – ocre, RAL 7033 – green, and RAL 7031 – blue – all of which can be mixed and matched for different looks. For this month’s Deconstruction, we’re sharing Floris Hovers’ unconventional design process of the FLOAT collection.

When Dutch furniture brand Red Stitch asked renowned designer Floris Hovers to make his interpretation of the sofa, he immediately decided that he didn’t want to make yet another styled variation of the sofa archetype. Based on his never-ending childlike imagination Floris started with the raw idea of creating something that fit his workflow and that is creating and making the prototype himself in miniature format from different materials available in his workshop in Raamsdonksveer, the place where he grew up and still lives.

Floris started by constructing the sofa frame with little wooden planks. He intended to make it a prominent esthetic element of the design.

Feeling confident about its proportions Floris started with the second and final component, the upholstered cushions. Being a creator he grabbed a cleaning cloth from the kitchen pantry and started drawing the sewing template.

The good thing about cleaning cloth is that it is easy to cut without the chance to fray, because it’s a microfibre material, it’s cheap and within reach. After cutting the templates from the cloth, Floris finished the cover by adding stitch work to fix the tails.

Floris wanted the cushions to be really comfortable and invitingly round and fat. He filled up the cover with cotton wool. After coating the frame the miniature prototype is ready. The advantage of a miniature prototype is that you can actually hold it in your hands and look at it from every possible angle.

After approval of the concept and its proportions, Floris made a technical sheet for the frame construction department.

The Red Stitch production facility has both an upholstery and construction department that includes CNC milling machines under one roof. Red Stitch and Floris Hovers decided that the frame is constructed from birch plywood with beech for extra strong support. Because Floris wanted the frame to be color coated, the difference in texture is marginally visible. The steel No Sag springs are for extra sitting comfort and the slots are to strap the seat cushions to the Velcro.

Floris didn’t want the upholstery to be stapled to the frame in order to simplify the process of changing it. Initially Red Stitch experimented with dividing the seat into two separate cushions, but this disrupted the logic simplicity of the design, so they changed it into a single cushion. The side and back cushions are attached to the frame by simply sliding them on and off the plywood side and backrests.

Colorization is a vital element of all of Floris’ work. For the launch of the Float collection Floris selected some colors from the Royal collection by Danish Art Weaving. Its color scheme is based on the colors Danish designer Arne Jacobsen used for his quintessential design of the Royal SAS hotel in Copenhagen. The frame colors are matched and are interchangeable to create exciting color combinations.

For more information visit www.redstitch.tv.

via http://design-milk.com/

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