#even after redoing the claws months ago

[cassandragemini]

big butch bears in love

[chasingmemoriesofficial]

God I love GL2. Much easier to customize characters than Heroforge, even if it has a... distasteful reputation thanks to cringy kids. When actually used the way it's intended (for character making) it can be amazing.

So here's CM!Zane (plus alt outfits, minus the Ninja suit). While in canon he's full robot, he technically is advanced enough he no longer fits that description.

What Zane is here is a Magitech Cyborg. While he has the endoskeleton, inner workings, and base programming of an android, he also has a lot of "human" features. He bruises, bleeds, and scars just like any other human; he thinks, acts, and talks like a human; and while he can be injured like a human it still takes a lot more to kill him.

His power source is a secret for now, but it's more magic than technology. Magic, combined with nanotechnology, is how he basically heals on his own without needing repaired so much. He can also eat; Zane has a nanite biofuel converter which breaks down everything and uses it to recharge his regenerative nanites. The only thing it can't break down is alcohol (it just ignites and then you have a ton of melted rubber and plastic to deal with, along with the fire and smoke).

At the start of Origins, Zane is 18 years old, and is just a couple days shy of 19 when he meets Kai.

I made these designs a few months ago after GL2 first dropped, and after taking a while to familiarize myself with how it worked, it took me about an hour to make the first design (white shirt and jeans), and I've actually added a few details to him in this time.

For one, Zane's supposed to have more claw marks on him, as well as stitching scars around his right shoulder from where his arm was reattached. A couple months after he was activated, Zane was attacked by a very large wolf that lived in the Birchwood Forest that he later learned was no ordinary wolf, but the fabled Beast of Birchwood. More on this thing later (much later, it's important to the story).

Zane is going to be the main focus character of the Chasing Memories AU, with most chapters being from his first person POV, or at least sections of them. I have to redo his Heroforge design, but I'll do that later. I also have to do the other Ninja and Wu.

In the meantime, I'll post the GL2 designs I have for them. This is my blog, so my rules. I post what I want when I want.

[dirtwatching]

ok, heres the rant:

i wrote my ba thesis on norwegian hiphop and highlighted three acts, although i ended up focusing on this one act (a duo) in particular, you might even consider it obsessing. i listened to and analysed all their songs, music videos, interviews etc. For six months, they were pretty much all i could think about. and that started to hurt, in a way i still havent fully comprehended. maybe i am sad that i have not seen them live yet and feeling like a perpetual outsider to this culture, afraid that i will never be able to fully understand them. overwhelmed, too. or maybe i am empathetic to the fates they describe in their songs.

(let me add that, whilst i already was in the midst, or rather the final "endspurt" of my work, they released a new album, so whenever i would go on instagram i was flooded with new information that, oftentimes, was not intended to be understood by someone like me.)

i am only somewhat proud of the thesis. it got a good grade (a minus), and i somehow got to many "right" results, without utilising the "right" theories. however, you can clearly see that it was my first major paper. every time i open it, i see mistakes and i cringe at formulations. in addition, i would sum up the work as overambitious, trying to grasp everything at once. since i am thinking about participating in an scientific essay writing contest, i thought about redoing my work, keeping the topic and big parts of the analysis but refining everything and adding more "proper" theories.

since i deinstalled instagram a year ago, i havent really been keeping up on them. i am finally at a point where i can listen to their music and enjoy it again, although i do sometimes find myself analysing it. well, a week ago i opened spotify to a notification that they had released a new album, along with some merch. i clicked on it, only to find that they are currently on a european tour, their first, as far as im aware. i also saw, that while many of the tour dates had already passed, there was still one open, ten days from then, (next monday) in a city only 3 hours by train from me. i immediately went to the ticketing website, which gave me the option to be put on a waiting list for any returned tickets. i signed up, and somehow got a hold of two tickets (bringing a friend for emotional support).

ever since then i have been in a conundrum: do i ask them to sign a copy of my thesis? the idea of having my printed out version of it autographed by the analysed artists has been stuck in my mind basically since the conception of it. (did i write the thesis solely to get the artists' attention? not exclusively; i genuinely think it is an important topic that is underrepresented in my field of study) so tonight i finally reached out - i sent them a snapchat of the thesis with the plea to sign it. if i recall correctly, the one in charge of snapchat is also the one whos autograph i want the most. he has also studied cultural studies, i believe, so i think he would maybe appreciate my effort the most. and while in my head i keep having discussions with him on orientalism and cultural studies, the simple act of sending that snap gave me enough anxiety to kill a small child.

i feel i would totally embarass myself in front of them and they would hate me, and i know that is nonsensical, but that is how i feel. i would love to get that booklet signed, but preferably without having to communicate with them. but this is pretty much a once in a lifetime chance. and being able to talk about their work would also give me some input and motivation to work on the essay for the contest.

i am bringing that print out to the concert, whether i get an answer or not, and maybe, after a great concert and having danced out all anxiety or w/e, i might be able to talk to them, without immediately afterwards feeling like clawing my way out of my skin.

i really want my favourite artists autograph, but i dont want them to perceive me

[utapriyanderes]

I really loved that fantasy au with heavens that you wrote about a few months ago! Since it's spooky season, what are some scenarios with vampire eiichi from that au? I'm really curious to know more about him and what it's like being his darling owo Thank you!

I’m happy you enjoyed it! Thank you for the ask and here you go~!

(Edit: After I finished writing this and went to look back at your ask I noticed that I really only wrote one scenario instead of like a run down of the relationship so if you would like more/would like to reask than just send it in and I’ll happily redo! Either way, I hope you still like this!) ~ ~ ~ ~

Your first week at the castle was spent being locked up in your room. Your room was by far the most lavishly designed room in the castle. Everything in it was made for and inspired by you, so it fit into everything you liked. If it was under normal circumstances then you would’ve probably loved to have slept in that room, but considering that you're newly turned and refusing to drink any sort of blood leaves you… quite enthusiastic about all of it. Eiichi would also come over to greet you every night. Right once twilight hit, midnight, and right before dusk was about to make it’s arrival. Everytime he would offer his blood to quench your thirst or offer you something to eat or drink since you might still have some of your human cravings. Though he ended up leaving with no response. During the times he wasn’t asking you if you needed anything he would be busy prepping empty rooms in the castle to fit your every need and want. A room for each of your hobbies, a garden made (with the help of his younger brother) for you to relax in, and even rooms just for the two of you to be together and spend time in each other’s company.

Eiichi knew that eventually you would come out and talk to him, and if worse comes to worse he’ll have to find a way for you to drink his blood just to make sure you won’t die. Though by the end of the week you were already peeking out into the hallway hoping he wasn't there. Then when the coast is clear you make your way out. You walk down the hall trying to ignore the emptiness in your stomach and the dryness in your throat. The feeling of your new fangs wanting to pierce flesh and the craving on your tongue for that sweet metallic red liquid.

You’ve tried your best to ignore it, but the cravings, the wantings grow stronger everyday. You even tried to refuse them by biting yourself in hopes your blood would be able to satisfy this hunger. Except that isn’t enough. You need something else. So you travel down into the deepest, dirtiest, darkest parts of the castle in hopes to find some rats or other small rodents crawling around.

Then as disgusting as it may be, you pick up that said rodent, and bite into it. You suck until the animal is completely dry. The feeling of dirty brown fur in your mouth and on your lips doesn’t even bother you considering how hungry you are. The only thing you taste is it’s blood which tastes absolutely awful, but does its job to quench your hunger.

Once done you place the small lifeless creature back on the ground and say a small “thank you”. You then move around in hopes to find another creature to help fill you up, but then, as soon as you find another and start to make your way to grab it. A cool hand like your own catches your wrist.

“Angel… rats blood won’t fill you. Drink from me, I promise I’ll taste better,” Eiichi’s voice can be heard coming from right behind you. You clench your hand and roughly pull your wrist out of his grasp. You turn around to face him with as much hatred and betrayal as you can. Eiichi tries to move closer towards you, but you take a step back. Eiichi doesn’t move towards you again, but he does tilt his head to the side and raises a sharp claw to it.

“(Y/N)... here.” Eiichi cuts a small part of his neck so blood is coming out of it. The scent of his blood hits you instantly. All too quickly that hunger comes rushing back and you’re left even hungrier than before. As you stare at him you try to resist with all your might. You don’t want to drink his blood, you don’t want to become a monster like him, but his blood smells so sweet. Part of you wants to lurch forward and drink to your heart's content, but the other part of you is struggling to hold onto your humanity. So Eiichi seeing this debate inside of you takes a step forward. You don’t move back. He takes another step and grabs both your wrists. He places your hands on his arms and then grabs you gently by the back of your head, wrapping his other arm around your waist. You stiffen as you mentally try not to give in to what he’s doing, but when he brings his neck closer towards your lips you can’t help but to finally give in.

You latch your lips onto the wound and drink up as much as you can. As soon as the blood touches your tongue you’re melting into his embrace wanting more. His blood smells and tastes so incredibly divine. When the wound starts to close up on itself, you sink your fangs into him for more. You can’t and won’t stop, not until you’re full from his blood. You’re holding onto him tightly, as your gulps and gasps for air drown out whatever noise is in the dark place you two are at. Then as soon as you’ve had enough you’re licking up the blood that surfaced to the top after your puncture holes healed on his skin.

Afterwards you move your head away and you can feel Eiichi staring at you. You don’t meet his gaze, but can feel him stroking your head ever so gently before placing a chaste kiss on the top of your forehead, “Do you feel better now?” Is what he asks you. This question causes you to become aware of what you’ve just done. You don’t know how to feel. You gave into the monster, but you feel so much better now. You can’t believe how good you feel just from drinking his blood. So you end up giving him a small nod. You can hear a “good” come from him before your surroundings change drastically in front of you. You’re now in an extravagantly decorated room that looks to be a lounge. You’re pulled onto the nearest thing, being a red velvet couch, but are instead placed onto your master’s lap.

He moves a hand to grab your chin so you can face him. He moves his face quite closely to yours and says, “I’ll teach you everything you need to know. So, now we’ll be able to fully understand one another. Let’s live for eternity together, in our own special Heaven.”

At the end of his words you feel cool metal getting placed on your wrists. Gold cuffs with red jewels sparkle, but you know exactly what they are. Shackles. To keep you here beside him, forever.

[azozzoni]

I must hate myself for posting when no one reads but. Based off this giftset ‘cause I can. - Another VDS christmas fic.

*

Glittering lights shone against the backdrop of the main square, the scent of pine, mulled wine, and imminent snow in the air as Jens stood at the entrance of the Christmas market. In theory, it wasn’t any different from any other Christmas market Jens had visited in his life. But in reality, it was nowhere near the same.

Stalls selling everything from candles to tea to sweets and jewelry spread out before him, drawing customers like moths to a flame. Cheery Christmas songs permeated the chatter of the crowd through loudspeakers placed throughout the market and still, Jens didn’t move.

He could only stand there and think, cold hands in his pockets, wishing he’d thought to bring a hat or gloves. Wishing that he’d thought almost at all before jumping on the bus to Utrecht.

It wasn’t necessarily that he hadn’t thought. He’d been thinking about this for months. Not the Christmas market or the seemingly endless bus ride over or the impossibly happy couples milling all around him. But the way his heart jumped into his throat when he caught sight of Lucas weaving his way through the crowd.

Lucas hadn’t changed, was Jens’ first thought. Not that he had really expected him to in the few months since Jens had last seen him. Maybe his hair was a little longer, a little darker, but otherwise, he looked almost exactly the same as that last day he had come to the skatepark to say goodbye.

It was a day Jens remembered vividly, even if nothing significant had happened. There had been some slapping of shoulders on Moyo’s part, a heartfelt hug from Robbe, and an awkward embrace Jens sort of wished he could redo on his part.

It was almost as awkward as the text Jens had sent Lucas earlier, saying he would be in Utrecht later. He hadn’t even asked if Lucas was busy, relieved when Lucas had replied excitedly and told him to come to the market.

Now that he was here, watching Lucas draw closer, he couldn’t help wonder what the fuck he was doing.

Before he could go over the events that had led him to this exact spot, to jumping on the first bus he found to Utrecht without much of a second thought, Lucas was there, standing in front of him, a smile on his face, and Jens’ heart was seizing in his chest, all fluttery nerves and anxiety he hadn’t expected somehow.

“Hey,” Lucas said, softly, and it was all Jens could do to swallow down the lump rising in his throat.

“Hi,” he breathed, the word appearing in a cloud of breath in the icy night air.

Jens had had many months to imagine this particular moment—and not a single one had involved him acting like an idiot as they stood there, the Christmas market busy behind Lucas, the cold street behind Jens, as if they stood on the brink of something magical.

“It’s been a while,” he said finally, and Lucas only smiled.

It had been almost five months, Jens realized, since Lucas had told him he was moving back to Utrecht to live with his mom. They hadn’t even gotten the whole summer to hang out. Lucas had only moved to Antwerp in the spring, shown up at school one day in March, been sat next to Jens in English class and whispered the answer to the teacher’s question under his breath when Jens blanked.

That had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship, as Moyo might have mockingly called it once or twice. It had definitely been the beginning of something Jens hadn’t expected.

As he hesitated, he felt it again—the way his stomach churned like a ship at sea, a clench as Lucas’ smile quirked, gentle.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he said finally, hopeful. He hadn’t really had a plan, a thought about what he might say when faced with Lucas. He’d just known that he needed to see Lucas.

Lucas’ smile widened as he nodded. “Yeah, sure, I—”

“Luc!” Another voice interrupted him before Jens’ hopes could grow too big, a guy in a puffy white coat lumbering through the crowd to grab onto Lucas’ arm. “I need mulled wine!”

Lucas’ glance at Jens was apologetic, partially amused as he dislodged the guy from his arm. Jens wasn’t really listening to what the guy said next, some other name, a complaint about not being drunk enough.

“I’ll be right back,” Lucas said as the guy dragged him off, and Jens couldn’t complain.

He needed that minute, he thought as Lucas disappeared into the crowd. He needed that minute to get himself together. It might have been a whim coming here, but it felt as if he’d meant to do it for a while. It wasn’t just a particularly depressing day between Robbe talking nonstop about the Christmas party he and Sander were planning, Aaron and Amber always making out everywhere. Even Moyo seemed lovestruck by Noor, of all people. How had Jens become the odd one out?

Even though Lucas had moved away months ago, Jens hadn’t forgotten him. The others, they’d mentioned him once or twice, but Jens felt as if he thought about Lucas at least once a day. He was sure the others didn’t. And it had taken him a long time to figure out why.

Huddled in his jacket, Jens shook his head, glancing around at the different booths. They all seemed so cheery, brightly-lit and emanating warmth that spilled onto the people wandering between them.

“Sorry.” Lucas appeared again, slightly out of breath, as if maybe he’d hurried back. “I pawned Jayden off on someone else.”

“It’s cool.” Jens shrugged, just glad Lucas had come back. Not that he’d thought he wouldn’t.

“You want to get a drink or a waffle or something?” Lucas asked after a second, and maybe he was a little nervous too.

“I’m good,” Jens said, and Lucas nodded. There was an awkward pause for a second as Jens wished he’d come with a plan. “Maybe we could just wander around.”

“Okay,” Lucas agreed, falling into step with Jens.

It hadn’t been this awkward before, when they’d hung out practically every day in Antwerp. Their friendship had felt so easy then, as if they’d known each other forever. They’d texted since Lucas had left, maybe once or twice a week, but nowhere near as often as before.

As they passed a stand selling hot cider, Jens glanced over at Lucas, and Lucas caught his eye with a smile.

“So how are the guys?” Lucas asked after a minute, and Jens jerked his shoulders.

“The same, mostly. Moyo’s in love with Noor but she kind of hates him.”

Lucas laughed, face lighting up, and Jens had forgotten what that felt like—a punch to the gut, the sudden onset of something churning deep inside him. It had taken him far too long to figure out what that meant, and now it was even worse.

“How’s your mom?” he asked to distract himself from the way his heart thrummed in his chest. “Last time we talked, you said she was doing better.”

Lucas nodded, hands in his pockets, elbow bumping into Jens’ as they squeezed past people crowded around a booth.

“I think we finally found medication that works. And she’s going to therapy a couple times a week. She’s back to working like normal. It’s good.” He nodded again, watching Jens.

“And I guess being home doesn’t suck?”

Lucas laughed, ducking his head. “It’s nice to be back. I did miss my friends, even if they’re assholes half the time.” He glanced at Jens, pausing. “Although I don’t think I ever told you how grateful I was that you guys let me into your group so easily.”

It hadn’t been that hard to convince anyone, Jens thought. Lucas had been cool from the minute they’d met, laid-back and easy going at least on the surface.

“Nah,” he said easily, wandering with Lucas through the different stalls, not really paying attention to what they were selling. “I think they liked you better than me.”

“That’s not true,” Lucas protested, grinning, and Jens shrugged. “How’s Sander doing?”

“He’s good,” Jens said, though he wished they weren’t talking about other people. He hadn’t really come here to catch Lucas up on what was going on in Antwerp. Lucas could easily find out on his own, but the small talk was easier than forming the words that had been swirling in Jens’ brain for months, ever since Lucas left.

He hadn’t clocked it back when Lucas had first moved to Antwerp. He hadn’t even really noticed the weird way his stomach would get all jittery and anxious whenever Lucas smiled at him until months into knowing him. He’d only ever gotten those feelings with girls, and really, only with Jana.

He’d thought it might go away when Lucas left, that they’d become those friends who liked each other’s posts on Instagram and nothing else. But the texting hadn’t stopped, and the feelings deep inside Jens had clawed their way to the surface after many sleepless nights, some stealth searching for gay porn in the dead of night, some stalking of Lucas’ Insta.

They paused as they reached a small ice skating rink in the center of the market, and Jens leaned against the barrier, watching kids and their parents sliding around on the ice. He hadn’t come here just to wander around a market with Lucas.

But he couldn’t figure out how to say what he was thinking, what he’d been thinking ever since he’d left school today and gone straight to the bus station.

“So,” Lucas said after a minute, watching Jens instead of the skaters. “You just felt like coming all the way to Utrecht to see a Christmas market?”

“Why else?” Jens joked, but he took a breath as he turned to Lucas. “Can we get out of here? It’s a little crowded.”

Lucas looked surprised at the request, but he nodded. “Sure. We can get out of here.”

As they left the market, Jens following Lucas into the considerably darker streets without the cheer of the booths and lights, he let out a breath.

“Is everything okay?” Lucas asked as they walked, side by side on the narrow sidewalk. He sounded concerned, eyebrows furrowed when Jens glanced over. “It’s not your parents?”

“No,” Jens said easily, shaking his head. “I mean, they’re still fighting, but it’s what they do.” He could only hope the divorce would go through soon and they would all be able to move on.

Lucas nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced that everything was fine. The road they were following curved around a corner along a canal, street lights reflecting off the water, the windows on the buildings hung with wreaths and a few twinkly lights.

Jens was surprised when Lucas stepped off the sidewalk, over to the edge of the canal, a small patch of grass beyond the row of bicycles. He followed, settling down next to Lucas, shivering at the wind coming off the water.

“I missed you,” Lucas said after a minute, so quiet Jens almost didn’t hear.

“You did?” His heart jumped in his chest, too hopeful.

In all the months Jens had known Lucas in Antwerp, Lucas had never shown any interest in the girls who flirted with him, girls who tried to dance with him at parties, always choosing to hang out with Jens and the guys instead. Jens hadn’t thought too much of it at first—Lucas had been the new kid after all. He could have been shy. But Lucas wasn’t shy, not like that. It hadn’t been until after that Jens had wondered if there was a different reason Lucas didn’t flirt with any of the girls.

“As much as anyone can miss a jerk,” Lucas said, half a joke, knocking Jens’ shoulder, and Jens let out a breath.

“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Through the darkness, Lucas gazed at him for a minute, and Jens had to look away.

Now that he was here, sitting next to Lucas, their knees knocking into each other, so close yet so far, Jens thought it had just been a fit of Christmas spirit madness that had brought him here. What was he expecting to happen? But if he didn’t do it now, would he ever?

“Jens,” Lucas said slowly, licking his lips, eyebrows furrowed, “Are you sure—”

It was definitely Christmas madness that seized Jens as he leaned over and kissed Lucas. It was a quick kiss, barely a peck, just long enough that he felt Lucas inhale sharply. He was back in his spot before Lucas could even blink, mouth hanging open slightly—surprised or angry or confused, Jens didn’t know.

“What,” Lucas said after a breathless second in which Jens could swear time stood still. “What was that?”

“I thought you’d know what a kiss was,” Jens joked before he could stop himself, grimacing to himself. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he be serious for once? Lucas was going to think he was just being stupid.

For a moment, Lucas didn’t reply, hands in his lap, staring at Jens and the way Jens stared at the water in turn.

He’d fucked it up, was his only thought as he stared unseeingly at the ripples in the icy water. He should have done it differently, maybe said something before he acted like a complete idiot and kissed him. It hadn’t been at all like he’d imagined—too quick, too nerve-wracking, too afraid Lucas might shove him away, into the water maybe.

Lucas’ hands on his neck, turning his face, brought him back to reality. Lucas was going to hit him, or at least tell him he had it all wrong.

But that wasn’t what happened at all with Lucas’ cold fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, a slight pressure pulling Jens to him.

This was the kiss Jens had imagined as their noses brushed together, a second before their lips did. Lucas’ lips were warm where Jens was sure his were cold, soft and lingering, almost hesitant as Lucas opened his mouth, let Jens deepen the kiss.

His hands slid to Lucas’ back, down his soft, black coat, tight around his waist as he felt Lucas inhale, press into him, chasing the slide of his lips.

Jens didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but it could have been forever. He would have been happy to stay like that forever with Lucas’ tongue against his, warm, heated breath between them, lips tingling, a smile here and there that made Jens’ heart do stupid little flip-flops in his chest every time. Lucas wanted this. Lucas wanted this. And so did Jens.

“I think my fingers are frozen,” Jens muttered as he slid down Lucas’ jaw, and Lucas laughed, quiet, pulling Jens into a hug instead.

His arms twined around Jens’ neck, secure, as if he wasn’t going anywhere, and Jens smiled at the kiss Lucas brushed to his cheek. He tightened his own grip as well, even if he could barely move his fingers. Even if his toes were numb, his cheeks red, more from Lucas’ kisses than the cold.

“I did miss you,” Lucas said again, whispered in Jens’ ear. “I thought about you all the time.”

Jens couldn’t help smiling, burying his face in Lucas’ neck as he took a deep breath, calm coming over him. “I didn’t know what to say, so…”

“You thought you’d just show up at Christmas and kiss me?” Lucas asked, pulling back finally to grin at Jens.

“It worked,” Jens pointed out, and Lucas nodded slowly.

“It did.”

Jens’ chest swelled as Lucas kissed him again, playful, gentle.

Lucas sighed as he moved back, hand falling from Jens’ neck finally, and Jens couldn’t help reaching for it.

“Your hands are cold,” Lucas said, sounding surprised, and Jens laughed.

“Well, I didn’t bring gloves.”

“Didn’t really think this through, did you?” Lucas asked, cheeky, and Jens shoved him playfully. All the nerves from before were gone, replaced with a simmering tingle of happiness filling his whole body.

“Fuck you. I came to see you. I wasn’t really thinking about anything else.”

Even in the dark, he could see the blush on Lucas’ cheeks at his words, the way he ducked his head as though embarrassed.

“Are you going back on the last train?” he asked instead, and Jens sighed. Another thing he hadn’t really considered.

“I guess so,” he said after a second, and Lucas was quiet for a minute.

Jens hadn’t really had a plan for what to do next. He hadn’t had a plan for what to do first, in all honesty. But now that they’d made it this far, now that he knew Lucas liked him to, whatever came next would just be gravy.

“You could stay at my place,” Lucas said finally, glancing up at Jens. “My mom won’t mind.”

“Really?”

Lucas nodded, warming Jens’ fingers in his. “And tomorrow’s Saturday. You could meet the guys.”

Jens hesitated. “Do they know you’re…” He certainly hadn’t told anyone about these feelings he’d been having for Lucas.

“I told them when I came back,” Lucas admitted, smiling slightly. “After I met this guy I couldn’t stop thinking about.”

“It better have been me,” Jens said, pretending to be offended when Lucas rolled his eyes.

“No, it was Sander,” he said, laughing when Jens shoved him, but Lucas didn’t let him, pulling him in for a kiss. Jens could forgive him if everything ended like this, with his heart fluttering, Lucas’ lips pressed to his. Lucas smiled as he broke away. “So can you stay?”

“I’ll tell my mom I’m staying at Robbe’s,” he murmured, anchoring his hands in Lucas’ jacket as Lucas grinned.

“Sounds like a plan.”

It did sound like a very good plan, Jens had to agree as he pulled Lucas back to his lips and kissed the smile right off it. A very good plan indeed.

[voidcat]

– calico of the lonely

Characters: Semi Eita/Reader

Genre & Word Count: fluff, comfort & 1.2k

A/N: Mainly inspired by the song Calico by glass beach but I suggest listening to All Delighted People (Classic Rock version) for the beginning of it:) i’ll probably redo the banner for Semi later

originall this was going to be (another) Oikawa piece but Linette’s suggestion (Semi)  seemed better, thank you!

Waking up for the nth time today, you don’t have it in you to check the time. A sour taste in your mouth, you start walking around the house. This only dampens your mood.

Each furniture laying around, a reminder of another abandoned task, you make your way to the fridge. Snacking on some leftover food and drinking whatever you can find, you eyes take a tour in the room again.

Social media has gotten boring, your short lived hobbies desperately call your name; all there’s left is the pile of text books that wink your way, didn’t you say you would start studying about two weeks ago? All the opinions seem dreadful and you don’t think you can survive another nap without waking up every five seconds, dreams that await you are worse as it is. Putting on a hoodie and the first socks you can find, you count to yourself.

3… 2… 1…

You slam the door as soon as you open it. Maybe the cliché of hissing at sunlight is more of a thing than you thought, since you did it just now.

Five minutes of searching for sunglasses and you throw yourself out. The sun burns your skin and hurts your eyes but it was about time for a change. So you start walking around in the neighborhood, examining some houses with softer colors and ignoring the violent vibrant tones. The soil smells awful and the lawns of dog owners make your steps fasten.

Some time later, the walk becomes pleasant. No aim to it, no meaning behind it, no end goal or something to achieve; it feels like the first breathe of fresh air you take after getting lost under the sea for how long.

Without you notice, your steps gain rhythm, your hands move on their own and the light breeze feels to be welcoming you.

The lovely shade of silence is interrupted by a high pitched mewl.

Turning in place, you can spot a little cat. So you do what any person, who doesn’t hold a meaningless grudge towards animals, would do and crouch to its level. “Hello little one. Are you lost?”

As the words spill before your lips, you notice they’re the first ones you’ve said out loud in a long, long time. The cat meows back.

“Do you have a home or someone to go?” Reaching out your hand and petting the cat once, you look for a collar. She doesn’t seem to have one. You feel as lost as the cat does.

“I-“ “I’ll look around and ask if anyone has lost a beauty such as you. You stay where you are.” She moves her head in a way that resembles a nod. Your lips curl up towards the sight and you stand up.

The cat seems to have other plans.

Ignore all you want, you can’t not hear the little steps on the pavement after you. You turn again and the calico offers you a pleading face you’ve only seen in Shrek. “No, no; no. You stay here. I’ll bring help.” Saying the words one by one, loudly, doesn’t seem to help, she sits by your foot and rubs her cheek now.

How on earth am I supposed to look after a cat when I can’t even look after myself? All you can do is to hope the tales about cats choosing someone is true. Checking your pockets for cash, you look down at the cat again. “Come on then, let’s go shopping.”

—

As if on cue, the little calico waited outside as you shopped. Not exactly sure what the cat would like, you gathered anything you supposed was fit for her; cat food wet and dry, chicken, milk… Walking around a bit more, you had enough food for a month in the cart. By the time you walked back home, the sun began to set, the colors becoming one with her orange haired areas, shining like gold in the whites.

Jumping over the tiny fence to enter the yard, she waited for you by the door. That evening cooking seemed tempting. Turning on the radio and coming across a channel with nostalgic tunes, you chopped and cooked, set and served, ate and laughed. You woke up the next morning only to find her in her arms. It was the first time you got a decent night’s sleep with no interruptions.

The following days became weeks and each day was a dawn worth waiting. Muscles sore from using, hands getting back to work, your mind juggling, the calico sleeping by the sofa waiting for your breaks; some instances she’d grow too impatient and sit on whatever it is you’re working on. Smiling became more familiar on your face and so did falling asleep to purring.

The lovely dream shattered one day when you couldn’t find her anywhere. Noticing the open window, you put on the first hoodie you could find and rushed outside in a worry. Not sure how long has it been as you searched and you found yourself frozen in place when you spotted a cat all too familiar, behind someone’s window.

Approaching the said window with caution, the cat seemed to notice you as well, stopped clawing at the window sill and answered your gaze.

With the window opening and the cat pushing your chin with her head, you began your routine of head scratches and petting.

“Can I help you?” Four words you snap you out of your trance, you noticed the young man watching the two of you with a smile on his face.

Taking in your silence as a reply, he held out his hand and the cat turned her attention to him.

“Is this your cat?” He seemed surprised at your question. He must be, the cat was inside his house obviously. “It’s just- I’ve spotted her outside few times before.” You add a little excited.

“Ah yes, I let her out sometimes. She likes walking around during the day.” His voice sounds a bit different than when he first spoke to you. “Although she was gone for two weeks, got me worried.” At that, you avoid his gaze, he seems to notice it too.

“I have a guess you had something to do with it but I’d hate to speculate things.” You keep your gaze focused on the cat for a while.

“You didn’t happen to be lonely or lost, did you?” He tries again. “That’s how she first found me too.” As his voice softens, you look up to him, only to see the sun.

“They have an eye for spotting alone souls, don’t they?”

“Maybe they just seek company like theirs and find comfort in shared loneliness.”

“With meows that seem to say ‘You don’t need to be alone any more’.-“ “I am Semi!.. Semi Eita.”

With a confused look, you offer back your name. “If you happen to come visit us again- the cat, I mean-“ Your laughter cuts his sentence in the middle.

“I’d love to, Semi.”

When you look back at the cat between your figures, you can’t help but think how wrong it was of you  to pet her head and tell her she’s a lucky girl; because now all you can realize is how lucky you were to go out that day and run into her.

[steph-writing]

The Dawn of Our New World - ClaudexF!Byleth

AO3 link

I never wrote for FE3H before, or any FE tbh, but I recently finished the Golde Deer route romancing the shit out of Claude and the ending left me desperate for some closure on their reunion. So here’s just a lil’ something I’ll prob want to redo in the morning because I love him so fucking much ugh

It’s Claude’s POV, with F!Byleth, and I hope I fucking got him right because he’s too perfect for me to fuck it up. This is super self indulgent so like yeah this is it mate, read under the cut.

*Fear the deer*

It’s been almost a year. Almost a whole year since I’ve seen her, heard her, held her. I’m still not sure how this whole Gods thing work, but this absence must have been some sort of divine punishment.

I know I had to leave, there was still work to be done, but it didn’t make it any easier if we’re being honest here.

It takes all of me to keep my game face on as we march towards Derdriu. It’s so close I can already hear the battle cries, the metallic scent of blood invades our nostrils, smoke coming out of nearby buildings and woods.

As we reach the border of the city, I raise Failnaught and with the Amyran battle cry bursting first from my lunges and soon to be followed by all of my army, I shoot an arrow, piercing some random enemy soldier from those who slither in the dark on the neck.

And thus, our battle begins.

My soldiers storm ahead, spreading out to help the few remaining troops from the Kingdom to achieve victory.

But I… I freeze for a second.

The scene before me is a bloodbath, composed mostly by fallen Kingdom soldiers, and it terrifies me.

I can see the remaining army is still perfectly positioned in a way to try and minimize losses, blocking the enemies’ access to the residential area to, most likely, give the civilians time to escape.

Yet, it’s not enough. Good strategy can only get you so far when the enemy outnumbers you by so much.

The intel I had over the past months told me Byleth was focusing on restoring peace, rebuilding towns and villages, reforming the Church. She didn’t- no, couldn’t have focused on the military as well. It would be suicide, and I was too far away to help her with my schemes.

She did well. She was succeeding. She was being the Queen I knew she would be.

The thought that she could be among the corpses laying on the ground below me was…

No.

I can’t go there.

She’s not dead.

She can’t be.

Snapping out of my daze, I dash ahead with my wyvern, desperately trying to find her among the still standing soldiers, refusing to let my eyes wander to the poor bastards that gave their lives to protect their freedom, refusing to look for her among them.

After mere minutes that felt like hours of searching, I see it.

That red glow from the Sword of the Creator glowing behind a building to my left.

Everything else fades when I overfly the building and look down at the battle going on next to it.

I had my spies give me constant updates on her, sure, but nothing prepared me for this moment, I don’t think nothing could’ve.

The same pale green hair just a bit longer, the same pale skin, the same delicate features laced with determination.

But she no longer looks like Teach, like the friend who walked by my side during the war.

She looks like a Queen.

Her face is fierce, determined to protect her people and their freedom, even if it costs her life. That adorable fool.

It’s not her face that grabs my attention though. Nor the blood splattered all over her, nor the way she seems to be favoring her right leg due to some wound I can’t see from up here, nor the pile of enemies laying dead by her feet.

It’s her eyes. I can see she’s putting up a strong front, trying to come up with some ingenious strategy now that she saw the Almyrans fighting by their side.

But she can’t fool me. I learned to decipher her puzzling expressions a long time ago, and I will never forget how to read her.

She’s afraid.

And that’s not something I can accept.

Blood boils in my veins when I see a shadow lurking behind her, waiting for the right moment to strike while the rebel in front of her robs her attention.

They take a step, and I shoot.

The gurgling sound the man in the shadows makes as he dies from my arrow makes her attention falter, wide eyes turning back to the sound giving the soldier in front of her the opening he needed to strike.

But I’m faster.

In but a moment his body is added to the ones already laying about, my wyvern never failing me as it struck him swiftly with his claws while also flying close enough to allow me to grab Byleth and pull her up with me.

“Wha-“

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, friend.”

I cut her short, holding her tight against my chest as I fly us to a safer place.

She’s filthy from dirt, blood and mud from the battle, but I don’t care.

The tightness on my chest seems to slowly soothe as I hug her closer and closer, burying my face on her hair and taking in her scent. Because under all the battle remnants, she still smells unmistakably like Byleth.

From up close I can see all the cuts and wounds she has, but before I can even catch my breath to say something clever, her trembling hands lay on my chest, her head slowly lifting to look at me.

She doesn’t look like a master strategist. She doesn’t look like the leader of a free nation. She doesn’t look like my old Teach.

“Claude… You came back.”

Her eyes glisten with tears I had only seen her shed a handful of times, and the small smile that tugs at her soft and plump lips, stretching a thin cut she seems to have gotten during this fight, could light up a whole world.

She looks like a Goddess. My Goddess.

“I told you I would.”

“Took you long enough.”

“What, did you miss me that much?”

I can’t help but chuckle as she glares at me, ready to snap back. I just don’t give her the chance to do it, leaning in to steal a swift kiss from her.

“We’re in a battlefield, what are you-”

“I missed you. I love you.” I want to do so much more than kiss you. “And it’s about damn time we see the dawn of our new world together. So, what do you say?”

I ask despite my true wish to whisk her away and never let anything hurt her again, handing her back her sword, just as we overfly a small group of enemies trying to escape our armies.

With renewed determination in her eyes, she nods once, grabbing the hilt of her sword and turning around to have enough room to freely yield it as we, together, cut down the final strings holding back the dawn of our new world.

“And Claude…” She turns to look at me over her shoulder. “I love you too.”

[patchworkideas]

FiKi Week 2019: Day 4, Pet

Had been thinking about the Fair Folk and Elves some months ago and the idea ended up running away with my two favourite characters. I'm actually pretty proud of this one and after seeing the Prompt I couldn't resist posting this. Hope it's as enjoyable to read as it was to write.

 Can also be found on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20002828

- 

Elves can be tricky, with an otherworldly morality system that no one quite understands.  

Kili finds that out the hard way.  

He has been sitting on the edge of Mirkwood for a few days now and the thought of leaving had been impossible until a few moments ago.  

All that he could think about was his star, his Tauriel. He hadn't even registered the words that echo so loudly through his mind now, as he's running away from a predator that thinks him an easy meal. 

In this unknown body he probably is.  

She bewitched him. Ever since she visited him in the dungeons everyday, he had been lost, unable to think of anything but her. Every time he saw her, just another opportunity for her to get her claws deeper into his mind.  

In the end, he left Erebor. Left his family, everything he cared about, because his mistress asked and he couldn't resist the sirens call.  

How long even did he stay in Mirkwood, a pet among the elves, unable to think for himself?  

If those Rivendell Elves hadn't come, hadn't seen, hadn't demanded that he was set free, he would probably still be there. 

If that thing hadn't tried to eat him, he probably would have waited there until she came to collect her pet back.  

But he has his mind back, he's awake and clear in what feels like the first time in forever.  

He runs, and he hides and he tries to hunt on four foreign paws, his fur dirty and his new senses almost overwhelming him.  

He makes it to the Lonely Mountain.  

He makes it unseen through the back ways, and runs like the devil through the places he can't hide in. Bides his time. He knows he's getting dangerously thin, that no dwarf will look at him and see something worth saving.  

None but one.  

And when the opportunity comes, he takes it. He evades Dwalins hands as he screams his brothers name, just the first syllable, his mouth grating and painful even around that. He evades everything grasping him while he weaves through his legs, hides behind him, calling, calling, calling, crying out through the pain and doing it again. 

Only Fili may lift him.  

May see his puppy eyes look that has never failed before.  

And it doesn't.  

Fili bathes him, brushes his fur, cuddles him close. He loves him, even if just as a pet. Kili returns the sentiment, even as his brother pours out his heart in front of him, crying in his empty room for the brother he thought lost.

He doesn’t understand his cats desperate tries of communication though. Scratched in runes are ignored, ink pots almost impossible to get his paws into before he is scolded and lifted away. 

He watches as his brother starts letters he never finishes, never meant to send. Tells his faithful feline friend that Kili is happy were he is. That he's choosen who he wants to be with and it isn't with him.  

Fili never stops mourning. Kili never stops comforting him, or trying to make him understand.  

Kili makes his choice, somewhere between protecting him from the would be assassin whose eyes he scratches out and the gold digging dwarrowdams that Thorin thinks might cheer up his brother, unseeing that Fili agrees to being miserable for the sake of duty and nothing else. 

He wants to give a tongue lashing to them all, to let it get this bad. It will have to wait, like so much. 

Eventually, it's Ori that ends up seeing a pattern. Of a too smart cat that keeps desperately scratching in the same shapes whenever he can. His runes have become almost readable by then, from all the practice. Fili indulges the Scribe when he sets out a small bowl of ink and an empty piece of paper. 

Kili takes his time, careful to make the runes as clear as possible. With paws a piece of paper is not a lot of room. "Get Gandalf." is what he has to settle with. There's not enough room for more. Not with his blasted paws unable to write smaller. 

Ori brings out another paper, but speaks clear and slow, as if he hadn't proved his intelligence countless times by now, telling him to write the same message again. 

He does.  

He manages it smaller this time, adding a haphazard "HELP!" onto it. Partly to be contrary, and partly to get his desperation across. 

He knows he can't tell them his name. Too much hurt comes with the mention, too much that could distract. 

And if Gandalf can't help... Better not to give hope where there might be none. Kili doesn't know if his brother will survive losing him twice. 

- 

In the end, Fili swears Ori to secrecy and smuggles out a message requesting Gandalf's help.  

King Thorin will be furious, and his cat is already fairly disliked for being impossible to part from him, the Crown Prince, as is. He knows his Uncle allows it because his pet has made him smile again.  

Even though it insist on driving away any possible match.  

Fili thinks about yesterday, how he stood up about not wanting to have children with someone who couldn't even handle a cat, and how cats only live about a decade anyway, would it truly be too much to ask to wait that long to look for a match? 

His King might have been displeased, but it was the first thing his nephew had asked for himself ever since the battle, so his Uncle gave in. 

He asks the raven to hurry, wrote Gandalf the same. 

He doesn’t know how old his cat is, doesn't know how long he has, but after all it helped him with, all the comfort and quiet joy he had thought lost forever, well, they can call him insane and punish him all they want afterwards, he's not going to let his little friend down. 

Gandalf does eventually come, though unfortunately Fili can't get him alone before the old wizard strides into the hall and asks what the emergency is. 

Fili knows he can't bring this back into smaller circles, that, if he's wrong, he's going to show his insanity in front of the whole damn Court, but before he can truly worry his Cat jumps from his shoulder and runs away, towards the wizard.  

He has moved after it before he realises it, snatching it up just before it reaches the tall figure.  Every eye is on them, and Gandalf looks surprised for a second before a small smile breaks through.  

"Well, that is an emergency, I suppose. You did good in calling me." 

And he touches Fili's cat with his staff, the top of it just barely brushing it's head before a blinding light fills his eyes and the fur under his fingers changes and he becomes unable to hold him up anymore. 

And it is a him that now rest in his arms. A shape that's burned into his memory with the force of a thousand dragons fire, never, ever forgotten. Fili whispers the name like a prayer into the hair of the dwarf before him, before finally opening his eyes upon hearing what his cat has been trying to tell him all this time. 

"Hey, Fi. I'm home." 

- 

There are long discussions of course, after Fili used his coat to hide his naked brother from prying eyes before leading him to a smaller, more private chamber, with only their most trusted friends around.  

Kili tells the story, how he was enchanted, trapped and how he broke free, finding his way back.  

Gandalf looks caught between sad but resigned and angry and frustrated. 

Apparently making someone love someone else is not considered a crime among the wood elves as long as the person in question doesn't ask for the spell to end. Which was obviously ridiculous, considering the fact that he hadn't even known he was under a spell until his near death broke him out of it. (And didn't that change her appearance in the battle, never leaving his side. She was right there to redo the spell whenever the battle woke him up.) 

Kili knew there would be consequences for that disaster. 

But he was currently more concerned with settling something else, something that had become clear during his time as a pet. His eyes caught Fili's and he sent a short apology to him before he explained in detail why he had intervened in Fili's matchmaking. 

He made sure that both his uncle and his mother knew that Fili hadn't wanted any of it.  

That Fili had never said no to them before, never hid from duty, so how "could they" ask him to marry and act like he actually had a choice in the matter. Why, they were all but selling him off to the highest bidder and Fili would have accepted a lifetime of misery for a short economic boon to the mountain. 

Kili had a whole rant, all thought out, words sharpened over month and months and months of this nonsense, but he didn't need much of it before his family gave him what he wanted, without realising that that had been his goal all along. 

Thorin and Dis insisted that their happiness was their highest goal and that they would not try to marry either of them off. Of course they could wait for their One, or not marry at all if that made them happier. The matchmaking had only been because they had hoped that Fili would feel better with a Companion. 

In the end, it only took a few words in the right places, how Fili would do everything for that bloody mountain so how could they know he wouldn't pretend to be okay with it at a later time, and they had both Princes swear an oath that they would not marry for anything but the love of their One.  

Kili's included a vow to keep him away from any elves in the future. 

His brother was of course looking angrily at him the whole time. He was the only one who still saw through Kili like glass. Knew the Theatrics were deliberate. Knew he had made it sound as bad as possible and that nobody would believe Fili in this matter for quite some time. 

They would fight about it, when all was said and done, and they were finally allowed back to their room, with no eyes to watch them. 

Kili looked forward to it, to the rough and tumble, to the heated words pouring out of both of them, to feeling the weight of his brother in his arms and feel his strength when he reminded him that he saw and heard *everything*.  

That they had promised to never hide from each other and Fili had broken that promise long before the journey. 

Kili had made his choice while kneading his brothers skin with his paws, letting his rolling purr drown out the sobs and his rough tongue lap up the tears while his brother called out to the One he lost, Kili's name on his lips every night. 

He would eventually do the same in his own body, swallowing Fili's cries along with everything else Fili had wanted to give and hadn't let himself, afraid of hurting his little brother. 

But they were equals and Kili would make sure Fili finally understood that. He had their whole life for it now, with the oath to never love anyone but their One, anyone but each other, after all. 

Kili couldn't wait, and behind Fili's anger, the confusion and the fear of losing him again, well, he knew his brother inside out, and he wouldn't have to wait long at all. 

They were One, and nothing would come in between, never again.

[adorkemis]

My farm has some unusual occurrences...

With Halloween coming up I thought I'd post some stories that happened here at my little co-op farm. Its a small farm I bought with my best friend and her husband that we run and take in unwanted animals, that is when we aren't working our day jobs, charity-volunteer, or Search and Rescue cases.

So in the spirit of the season I'll start with the unusual events leading up to our first Halloween. On the night of the Autumn Equinox we built a bonfire and poured ourselves a few drinks- some family recipe Appalachian home brew.

Now, I take bonfires very seriously and had been preparing for weeks, carefully selecting the best branches and tinder, even going so far as to collect and dry out large bundles of late summer flowers and herbs to add to the top of the fire. In my family, we have a long standing tradition of welcoming in each new season with a bonfire and an important component of those seasonal bonfires are the flowers and herbs. So for weeks I had been going out to cut the necessary plants and dry them in the barn.

Now they were blazing brightly with the cut grass, weeds, and branches from our months of hard work setting up and renovating our new home and the surrounding acers.

I don't normally dance, but when I do, it is not pretty I am very, very intoxicated. So I flail happily around my fire, taking turns dancing with my friends under the bright stars and just enjoying myself free from big cities and a nice break from all our hard work.

As the night progressed the fire finally began to die down and after a few drinks I felt myself beginning to tire.

Ty, the husband of my friends asked me question that I wasn't quite able hear over the music. I thought he asked if I wanted more to drink, so I said yes. Being deaf in one ear I often mishear people.

A few moments later, I hear Ty holler out "Move!" as a large pile of debris we had stripped from the house was hurled onto the dieing flames. Krystal (my friend and wife of the pair) and I jumped back just in time to avoid the cloud of ash and embers. As I stagger backwards trying to comprehend what I had just witnessed when he again yells out for us to move just in time for me to watch him throw a bucket onto the smoldering embers. In the next instant the embers have erupted into bright yellow flames roaring skyward. The blast of heat sends all three of us onto our asses and I watch in shock as my bonfire turns into a flaming trash heap.

Black smoke rolls off the inferno, choking my lungs and making my eyes water. I crawl away when I hear Ty laughing drunkenly as the collection of boards, plaster, vinyl and trash blacken and burn. "Whoooo!" He lets out hill billy hollar. "Look at it burn!"

Krystal is now screaming at him for nearly killing us all and I just and watch quietly (and inebriated) as all my weeks of planning go up in smoke.

For you see, when my ancestors started the first Farm centuries ago, at the birth of our bonfire traditions, it was not a way to simply celebrate the changing of the seasons. No, it was a way to show respect to the things that we do not see, the beings that dwell within the woods just outside our view. It was a way of making peace with the Good Nieghbors, or local spirits. The old stories say the tradition started with my earliest ancestors inviting the beings to celebrate with them, to thank them for their protection, and that the plants we used were a sign of respect toward that treaty. Of course as the generations go by that origin has become more of a legend, few of my extended family actually believes this ritual is anything more than a leftover from our pagan, superstitious roots. But me and my grandfather know the truth. We've seen the things that lurk at the edge of the forests, seen what they can do to livestock, livelihoods, or of course people.

So imagine, if you will, you are invited to a party. A party filled with wonderful cakes, treats, and beautiful decorations. Now imagine someone literally dumps a pile of garbage on top of it.

That essentially is what has happened.

So I sit there, unsure how to tell my arguing friends what has just happened, and finally decide to just go to bed.

The next morning I wake up in the predawn hours, hungover from our libations, I look out my window see the fire pit is still smoldering. The black smoke is now grey and I can see old wires birnt black and twisted with pits of melted plastic sticking to the stones I dug up and carried from the creek.

I sigh, put on a pair of pants and go to rhe kitchen to make the moring coffee.

As the smell of the black brew wafts through the house, my cohabints emerge from their room looking as good as I feel.

My throat feels tight and scratchy so I simply raise my mug to them in greeting and am met with simular responses.

"Sorry Ty tried the burn the house down," Krystal offers when she has her coffee prepared.

"Hey, I said move!" Ty tries to protest his actions were justified.

I sign to Krystal, who translates for Ty, that its all good. Even though it may not be.

Back at my family's old Farm we hold to our traditions very seriously, like an old woman to her purse. I don't expect my friends to understand the importance of these traditions just yet, and believe me, I know how it sounds to explain these.

But instead I finish my coffee and try to tell them I'm off to start the morning chores, but my vioce comes out in a raspy gravel, so again I sign to Krystal.

Morning chores are typically the bane of my existence, but as I have the day off from my day job so it's not as bad, and it gives me time to think. I obviously can't just write an apology letter or throw another bonfire, the next time to hold one won't be until Halloween- and thats just for fun, normally. No instead I'll just have to my Buck Moon ritual will be enough to protect us from any malevolent spirits we may have offended.

I will note the Buck Moon ritual is NOT one of family's ancient traditions (well, on the Farm its called the Hay Moon and we did use to do something for that) but one I deviced myself as a way protecting myself when away from the Farm and the protection of the Hay Moon rites.

Nothing exactly happened that day, though none of the chickens had laid any eggs (which wasn't too far out the norm) however as the weeks progressed I noticed a few things that hinted something might be wrong.

The milk turned sour, the bread molded, and the grass began to die while the weeds began to overtake the pasture and garden. The grain barrels (thick plastic and metal that were advertised as critter proof) in the barn were chewed through and no matter what type of traps or bait I used the elusive culprits were still at large.

The chickens continued to not lay eggs and we soon went from an overwhelming plethora of tradable goods to a tiny stock barely able to feed ourselves. Not to mention that my voice had still yet to return making my job at the animal hospital very difficult to perform properly. My manager had to pull me aside and ask when I would be seeing a doctor about. If I could have laughed I would have but instead I was sent home early.

When the third week started of me being continuously mute and down to my last 6 eggs I new something had to be done. But the final motivation was when one of the horses, Cowboy, got sick. Immediately I called one of my vets and began to put my plan into action.

Thankfully the horse that was sick wasn't my horse, Prince. My family use to breed and sell horses for generations and Prince was one of the last horses born there. Prince is also very important to the Buck Moon ritual. As an avid hunter I normally follow all the hunting laws to a T, however for the Buck Moon I can only hunt in the middle of the night on horseback. Prince is the only horse we have trained for hunting so he's my only hope.

The day of the hunt I set everything up. My saddlebags, bow and arrows, along with a few less than normal trinkets. And in the express interest of keeping this long story short, I'm just going to skip ahead to the part where Prince and I return just before dawn with yearling buck being dragged behind us. Maybe I'll get a chance to explain more about it. How finding the deer took all night and the other beasts we saw in those woods, Gas Mask Gary, and how when we finally made it back with an hour to complete the ritual I was covered in blood and exhausted but still I got it done.

Work was not fun that day but luckily my sore throat was better and I had fresh eggs for breakfast. Along with some venison steaks.

I believed that the ritual had worked and soon our fall vegetables would be ready to harvest and everything wouldnbe back to normal.

To my relief, it was. Our vegetables and eggs were taken to market and our horse, Cowboy, was better almost overnight. I could finally talk again and had almost forgotten everything until October 30, the night before Halloween.

Like I said earlier we are renovating the house and one of the last rooms is the Krystal and Ty's bathroom- the master bath. We had ripped out the old vinyl and redoing some of the plumbing which left a small hole in the floor. We had all pretty much gotten ready for bed and Ty and I were outside with our last cigarettes for the day when we heard Krystal scream from the bathroom. We tossed our cigs and both ran toward the bathroom, Ty rapping on the door. "Babe, you alright?" He called thrpugh the door. Inside we could hear quiet the cacophony of noise, like bull in a China shop type deal. When Krystal started yelling again Ty and I burst through the door.

Krystal was armed with broom like a lance 8n one hand and towel like a whip in the other. And emerging out the whole in the floor was a black eyed, foam spitting raccoon. Its little claws dug into the vinyl leaving deep grooves and a horrific coughing, gagging noice emitted from its throat.

"Its rabid!" She yelled and jabbed the broom at it.

I've seen a rabid raccoon before, and so has Krystal, we've both worked those kinds of cases but this raccoon was different. Yes they will try to run up and attack, but it looked different. Like its skin wasn't on right and the sounds it made weren't what I had heard from raccoons- rabid or not.

Finally the little beast pulled itself free from the whole and ran, on its hind legs toward. All three of screamed but Krystal armed with her trusty broom hit it with everything she had and smashed its head into the cabinet.

For a moment the raccoon wobbled a few steps before it fell over, the mishape of its body more pronounced but even more damning was the blood running out its eyes and nose. Thick, black, tar like blood oozed from its head and the smell of rot and shit filled the bathroom.

Ty and Krystal nearly gagged as the smell hit us.

"What the fuck is that?" I head Ty ask as he pulled his shirt over his noes.

"It tried to kill me!" Krstal yelled. "I was trying take a shit and it climped up with its little paws!" She made a hand motion mimicking the raccoon reaching threw the whole. "We patching that whole tonight."

"Why does it smell so bad" Ty asked. "I ain't touching it."

I was oy half listening (well, less so than I normally can) and took the broom from Krystal to poke the thing.

As soon as the bristles touched the body the raccoon jumped back up, making even more gagging noises. I slammed the broom immediately on top of it, screaming again.

I grabbed a glass sitting on the counter and threw it onto the writhing beast. As soon as the water splashed onto its patchy fur a hissing could bebheard and steam rose from its now thrashing body.

"Holy fuck!" They screamed while I simply responded "Thats where I put the Holy water!"

The demonic raccoon was screaming and convulsing on the floor infront of us as the water burned it.

Krystal turned to me. "Why was there holy water in my bathroom?!"

I shrugged. "Divine intervention? But now we know its a raccoon corpse possessed by a demon."

Krystal threw her hands up. "Oh that is wonderful! Demon coon in the house!"

I looked back at Ty. "Can you help me grab my things?"

He just nodded, somewhat dumbfounded. I guess this was his first possessed raccoon.

It only took a few minutes to gather the stuff I would use. However there was one last thing I needed.

"So, I can't really banish it without its name and raccoons don't have vocal cords so I need to put it something that can talk." I looked Krystal in the eyes with a pleading look.

She shook her head. "Oh hell no. We are not doing that. Can't we use my in-laws?"

"Hey!" Ty was not amused. "Why can't we use your family?"

"We're not using anyones family!" I was tired and the circle I had made for the demon wasn't going to hold forever. "Krys, please."

In defeat she sighed and left the room for few minutes. While she was gone I prepped Ty on what was about to occur. I handed him a blessed knife I had and told him "If it leaves the circle, no matter the vessel, stab it hard enough to pin it to the floor." He looked at the long blade and just nodded.

Krystal camd back in with her son's Tickle Me Elmo doll. That thing gave us all the creeps but now it would be put to some good use.

I made second circle with very specific symbols, not dissimilar to the first one that held the Satanic flailing beast and drew a kind of infinity like symbol touching each circle. Krystal placed the Elmo doll in the new circle and I began the ritual.

If you have only seen exorcisms in movies or tv you will think there has to a Bible, screaming, and lots of flailing along with green pea soup.

It's possible all of those things could happen if you are dealing with humans, especially eccentric ones. A raccoon corpse on the other hand, not so much. The only difficult part I have is not knowing the demons name and the time crunch I have on the circles. Once the water dries, I probably won't be able to hold it back. And yes, like I told Krystal I can banish it but it could just pop up right back. And then we could be in a loop trying to constantly send him back and forth back and forth. Instead, I can trap him in a body that doesn't have claws or teeth or rabies. Which is what I did.

The words don't matter so long as you believe them, so long as you give them power. Now that doesn't mean I can just say whatever I want. I have a long monologue I use that took me years to perfect. It's written in few languages most ancient Hebrew and Hellenistic Greek with a bit of Gaelic thrown in for that extra punch. These are the languages that are strongest to me.

Except I have to read them slowly, if I mess up a single syllable I have to start all over. And I have a mild speech impediment. And worse sometimes.

Carefully I pronounce each syllable, its still a race against time and if mispronounce anything I will have to start over.

The smell of rot and shit is getting worse and the demon-raccoon starts convulsing madly. The black blood is still flowing from its head but as it slamns it head and claws at its body the black tar leaves smoldering smudges in the bare floor.

I'm nearing the mid point of the ritual and motion to my roommates to leave the room. Krystal tries to get my attention, to tell me no she is staying there but I pour all my focus into the words I'm spewing. If anything goes wrong, and the demon doesn't go into the proper vessel it could easy posses my friends. And while a simple wooden door won't keep a demon from possessing a host, if there is only one visible option they typically take it.

I hear the soft click of the door behind me. I raise my voice and the raccoon is now actively ripping fur and flesh off itself. The most ear peircing scream emits from its maw of broken teeth, I can see black blood gurgling in the back of ots throat. My stomach almost feels sick but I push on.

I hold up my left hand and draw a second knife along my open palm. I didn't want my roommates to see the self mutilation that is part of this exorcism. I hold my bloody hand above the irate demon. I let the blood drip a new circle around the demon.

The smell of apple blossums, cedarwood, and salt water mixes with the demonic stench from the raccoon. Its enough to be overwhelming and for a brief moment I almost stumble over the final phrase but it comes out well articulated.

The sound of bones snapping fill the room as I watvh the raccoon literally brake in half, part of its spinal column protruding from the stomach. Black blood spew from its mouth, filling the circle.

In the neighboring circle I hear the little voice box of the doll come to life. "Elmo loves you!"

Stupid fucking demons.

I scoop up the now animate doll and hand it to Krystal. "I had one rule!" I yell as I stumble to my room. "No goddamn demons!"

The next day, Halloween, was like any other day. I went to work, did my chores, rode my horse. The new addition of locking Helmo wasn't too offsetting. He still gets out of his case and walks around, rather poorly, but so far he can't do much. Aside annoy us with his flailing and constant prerecorded chatter. "Hehehe. That tickles!"

"No shit, Helmo!"

"Fuck off, Helmo!"

Sometimes, when he is too much, we put him in shoebox. Other times we might even take a stab at him. He doesn't like that.

But the arrival of our wayward demon isn't what upset me. No, what upset the most was what happened Halloween night and the next morning.

As we sat around the bonfire Halloween night in our costumes with our drinks and smokes I glanced up. Through the flames, at the edge of the woods I could see a tall, lean figure in a hoody. The flames reflected off the lenses of the gasmask that covered his face and I felt a cold shutter run down my spine. Gas Mask Gary is the biggest enigma in the town, but his presence always means something strange and possibly dangerous is going to happen.

The next morning when I rose up to care the animals before getting ready for work, I saw something unusual in the extinguished firepit. In the predawn light I walked over closer to inspect it.

A door made of hard carved wood with a plain handle lay unmarked as if raising out the soot and ashes.

Fuck. A Door to Nowhere.

[triforceangel13]

Golden Eyes Ch. 20 (A SidLink Story)

Chapter 20: Right Where You Belong

Days had passed since the incident in the reservoir. Sidon had made sure to give Link the up most care he needed.

But instead of leaving him in the hands of the healers Sidon took it upon himself to keep him in his care. After what had happened earlier he wanted to make sure that he could keep an eye on him as well as make sure that certain care was done.

He still needed to weed out the Zoras that had been loyal to Ruto and question them. He didn't want anyone harming Link.

He had brought him to, now, their room, making sure he was nice and comfortable on the large four post bed, tucked into the most warm blankets.

As Link rest Sidon took care of some things without leaving his side. He issued Ruto to be banished from his kingdom and to be escorted back home before anymore damage could be done by her. He would not have anyone take advantage of his hospitality again.

Zelda hadn't left the Domain either, wanting to see that Link woke from his slumber before she was to go home again.

Wedding preparations were also being made already despite the Link hadn't awakened yet. The council had wanted a proper wedding as soon as possible. It wasn't the fact that Sidon was ruling the Domain without a queen, it was because the two of them had already been wed in the past, wanting to make it official.

It surprised Sidon, but nonetheless he was happy to see at least the Zoras that fought him almost every corner was enthusiastic to wed them.

But this wedding was only to happen if Link had accepted him once more after the way he had treated him back then. And after everything he had been through he didn't blame him if he just wanted no part of this life ever again. From breaking his heart all those months ago all the way to yelling at him over his father's death.

He had promised Link back then that he would never hurt him again and he had done so yet again. He wanted to keep his promise.

Yes Sidon had saved him but he had been without so much blood after the attack that Sidon knew that Link didn't really have a matter to speak or make decisions when he had been in that sort of condition even from being saved.

Which was why he would break this to him slowly if he could. He wasn't sure what Link was going to be like when he woke.

His wounds had healed most of the way, the bleeding having stopped back when Sidon had some how healed him. He still had not figured out how he had done such a thing but he knew he would need to look into that as well at a later time.

Perhaps it was in the family or it was within every Zora but needed to be found he wasn't sure. It was something he would need to ask the other healers.

He looked over some paperwork at the desk in the room another morning, tapping his quill on the parchment before him. Now as King there was much to do and things to announce to the rest of Hyrule. It would be a while till he could have a calm moment again.

However he was becoming distracted. He kept wondering what Link would do. He wished him to stay but he was not about to force him to.

He wanted to take as much time as he needed apologizing to him. Such terrible things he had said to him out of anger and grief.

He should have seen this from his side sooner, that way if he had Link may never had ended up in the dungeons and none of this would have happened. Link would have been happy and smiling rather than lay on the bed unconscious.

But despite all of that, now he was safe and healing. Sidon would protect him with everything he had to make sure that no harm ever came to him again. And even if he left he would see to it that he remained protected.

Link hadn't been sure how to tell him what happened. It wasn't easy news to deliver and he had lashed out at him.

Perhaps when this was all over they could have a redo on their honeymoon, make up for how he had acted and not have a care in the world. To enjoy their time together  the way they should have in the first place.

“Where am I...?” a weak voice came from the bed, pulling Sidon from his thoughts. He turned towards the bed, seeing Link having sat up, looking around confused as his eyes adjusted to the sun that shined into the room from the window..

That is until his eyes landed on the large red Zora.

His skin turned pale once more and he shrunk a bit into the bed's pillows, blue eyes scared as he looked at him.

“No, no Link it's okay,” Sidon said quickly to him, rising from the chair so fast it fell to the floor. He made his way to the bed, kneeling down next to it despite that Link still shrunk back even further from him as he came closer.

“I shouldn't be here,” he signed to the Zora, shaking his head hard, his hands shaking so hard that Sidon was almost unable to read them.

He couldn't help but grow concerned. He was scared?

“Easy my love. Easy,” Sidon said, slowly resting his hands on his cheeks. Link's blue eyes snapped open.

Sidon stroked his thumbs over his cheeks, being careful of his claws near his eyes.

“Why shouldn't you be here? You are my husband, remember? You have every right to be here just as much as anyone else.”

Well except Ruto.

“You said yourself you never wanted to see me again,” Link quickly responded, pulling his face from his hands.

“No Link. That's not true,” Sidon said, taking his hand and kissing it. “I know I had said I would never hurt you again and I damn well did. I should have never such a thing. Just because I was grieving and angry....”

Link pulled his hand away, pushing his hands against Sidon's shoulders to give the two of them some distance.

“I know I don't deserve to have you forgive me but that is all that I have...I love you dearly and I just feel lucky that you had been a part of my life...” Sidon finished.

These past months of solitude had really messed with Link's head.

What else had Ruto done to him? What had she said to him? She had lied to him he was sure but what had she said?

“Link...” Sidon said sadly.

“I never told you about your father. I should have told you and I hadn't I don't deserve to be with you and-”

Sidon grabbed hold of Link's hands, kissing them again.

“Link, I do not blame you at all. That was not easy news to tell,” Sidon tried to reassure him. Link's shoulders slumped a bit at his words. “Please believe me my love in when I say that I am not angry with you.”

Link let out a sigh, looking down to his bandaged chest, confusion crossing over his face. Sidon watched him carefully, coming to the realization that Link did not remember what had happened in the reservoir or the monster and what it had done for that matter.

“Link...do you not remember what happened?” Sidon asked. Link scrunched his forehead a bit, shaking his head a moment later.

Sidon let out a small sigh. “I was afraid so....you had taken quite an intense beating back there.”

Link looked down at his head, suddenly snapping his head up as the memories flowed before his blue eyes.

Running from the infirmary to the armory, picking his weapons and then rushed to the reservoir. Sidon had appeared just in the right time and together they were to take it down.

Sidon had dove into the water and Link...

Carefully Link ran his hands over the healing wounds on his chest. That was right. He had taken the hit to the chest. And then....and then...

What? What happened after that? Everything was hazy.

“How did I survive?” he asked aloud, rubbing the wounds lightly again.

Sidon slowly took one of his hands in his own once again, resting a kiss to the back of it. “I'm not sure how, but I had done some healing much like my sister used to do. It wasn't nearly as effective but...it brought you back to me.”

Lin's blue eyes gazed up at him. Sidon had saved him. If he had hated him why ever would he try to save him like this?

Sidon did forgive him, beast slain or not. Just knowing that had him feeling better.

Quickly he tensed however. “What about Ruto?” he asked. “What if she finds out-”

“Do not worry my love,” Sidon said to him, kissing his hand again. “She is taken care of. She is being escorted back home and will never bother us again. I feel ashamed for not realizing sooner just how evil that woman was.”

Link relaxed slightly. There was no anger coming from Sidon, there was no more way Ruto to torture him or lie to him.

He had no reason any longer to stay away from his happiness. He could finally come home after running for so long.

“Now, before I forget,” Sidon said, reaching into the pouch on his side, taking out something gold from it. “Link. May I ask you something?”

Link gazed at the necklace that sat in Sidon's palm. The same gold and sapphire one that Ruto had taunted him with.

“Isn't that...?”

“Ruto did have it for a while, back before I had left to come find you,” Sidon explained. “But I took it back. It belongs to the one the prince, or rather king, wishes to marry as a symbol of their eternal love, much like the princess would make a suit of armor for their intended. Forgive me for having ever put it around Ruto's neck.”

Link rest his hands on Sidon's wrists, eyes twinkling just like Sidon loved to see, the blonde eager to hear those words again.

“Link...may I ask for your hand once more in marriage?”

Link nodded his head happily.

Sidon smiled gently at him, taking the necklace and clasping it around his neck, the rightful place that it belonged.

“There. This is where it was supposed to be all this time,” Sidon said warmly. Link peered up at him, his hand resting on the necklace and carefully pushed himself up to kiss Sidon against the lips a feeling he had missed so much.

Sidon sighed against his mouth, cupping his face in his hands.

All that they had been through, the pain, the anger, all of it didn't matter any longer. All that mattered was that they now could just be with one another as they should have been all along.

*

“I now pronounce you married under the eyes of the goddess. May I present the King and Queen of Zora's Domain,” Zelda said loudly in the hall for all guests to hear. “Sidon, I grant you permission to kiss your queen.”

Sidon didn't hesitate to scoop Link up in his arms, spinning him around and kissed him deeply in front of everyone.

The applause around them was nearly deafening, combined with all races of Hyrule there to witness their union.

Even the elders that sat in the front nodded their heads in approval and applauded along with them. A union that they were all waiting for.

But neither of them heard the sounds. Sure this was the second time that they were declared to be wed but now it was official in the eyes of the kingdom. Nothing would pull them apart now. They would never let anything get in the way of them again.

The days up to the second wedding had been like a dream. Link had healed in bed while Sidon sat with him, going over brief wedding discussions of what they would need to do for the elder council to approve of them.

Zelda had been more than happy to officiate the wedding herself as the queen of Hyrule in the king's place, extremely happy to see them finally together.

“Seeing that upon your head...it suits you,” Sidon said as he pulled away, looking to the circlet that sat on Link's golden locks.

“Royalty or not...I'm just glad that I'm here with you,” Link whispered so that only Sidon could hear him. “It feels right to be with you.”

Sidon smiled, never tiring of hearing Link's voice, still something that Link tended to only let him hear. Just like the first time he heard it it was like a small present for him each time.

“I love you Link,” Sidon mumbled to him, leaning in close to lay a soft kiss against the corner of his smiling mouth.

“I love you,” Link replied softly. “My golden eyed prince.”

I’m open for written commissions

want to support? my patreon and kofi (just ask me for the link)

my a03 (triforceangel) as another place to read my fics

[deluxesoapbox]

So I was looking through my saved notes in the drive and discovered at one point I had tried to write a Sailor Moon x Cutie Honey crossover and was going write a one shot.

Now don't get too excited I didn't even write the entirety it just ends in a flashback of Usagi first meeting Honey without that part happening yet

-

Usagi giggled as Honey trailed kisses down her neck. They were both lying in bed in Honey's lovely studio apartment all by themselves. Usagi nuzzled the android in turn, making Honey practically purr. As she laid there holding the girl, Usagi thought back to how they had first met.

It had started about six months ago, it had been a year since Galaxia and Mamoru had gone overseas to redo his college semester. Usagi was better off this time around now that her letters were actually getting replies this time and life had been relatively peaceful for her and the senshi.

Then Naru's mother's jewelry store had been robbed.

Usagi was only there with Minako to enjoy the clearance sale they were having till the windows were shot to pieces and guns were pointed towards the customers. "Everyone get down this is a stick up!" cried out a woman with a spidery appearance. "That's right just stay nice and quiet and we won't blow you to smithereens." her partner assured, snapping her large claw. Everyone listened to the two, getting down to the floor with their hands behind their heads as the guns of the masked men were cocked.

 While the robbers were smashing in each display case and snatched up jewels the girls crawled over to each other; they knew what they had to do but due to being surrounded by plenty of civilians they couldn't transform into their senshi guise. Minako then had an idea and whispered it to Usagi, who then nodded in agreement.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" demanded the arachnidesqe lady, who had previously been referred to as Tarantula Claw. Minako and Usagi tensed up as all the guns were pointed at them. "Ah sorry we just wanted to ask if we could go to the bathroom." Minako lied, Usagi behind her tersely nodding. The bigger of the two, Scissors Claw, stared at them.

"Alright fine," she relented, "just make it quick. You two-", she pointed to some minions, "guard them and make sure they don't try any funny business."  Two of them nodded, and after grabbing the girls by the arms, escorted them to the nearest restroom. They pushed them inside and stood guard outside, guns held high at the ready.

Then the door was blown off its hinges and the guards exploded into dust. Stepping out of the bathroom were two lady commandos.

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Oneshot Request - The Rat and the Cat

Ok, so this was a request I got quite a while a go, I’m sorry it took me so long to get to! :S

I love your Joker stories so much, thank you for writing them :) if you're not too busy then I'll just leave a one shot idea: Joker finds out the reader brought home a cat and he gets mad, saying he's not a cat person but he can't get rid of it cuz of the reader. He acts like he hates the cat but he secretly pets and cuddles it when he's trying to relax a little.

So, maybe not 100% what you wanted, but I just kind of have a quick bit of fun with this one - it’s not great, but maybe it’s alright enough? If not, let me know and I’ll redo it!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in anything!

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!

MAIN MASTERLIST

The Joker’s familiar snarl curled his lips as he reached for the pistol where it sat in the holster at his side, his eyes ever leaving the fiend in front of him. The insult, the gall of this enemy was beyond anything he’d ever dealt with before. [Y/N] might like them, might try to convince him to give them a second chance, but that was a laughable hope of hers. They’d gone too far this time. He’d call it disrespect, but it felt worse than that.

J aimed his revolver at his own chair where his opponent insolently sat behind his desk in his office. “Bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?” The Joker taunted with a slow, humourless grin stretching his features. “9 lives. 9 bullets.” He growled, “Seems a lot,” He mused, “but it’ll be worth it…”

The cat, who [Y/N] had apparently named Nyx, didn’t seem at all bothered by the loaded weapon now aimed at her head, instead, just regarded J with a lazy, almost bored, expression over the muzzle of the gun, her tail curled around her feet as she sat in the centre of the chair, the end flicking slightly as she watched him.

This was the final insult. The creature had plagued J ever since [Y/N] had decided to bring it home a few weeks ago, insisting to keep it. He knew she would only whine at him about it for months, hold it over his head, so he’d allowed her to keep it if only to get one annoying voice out of his head. Now, however, he’d rather taking [Y/N]’s constant complaining then have this creature constantly under his feet trying to trip him up, howling at him, scratching up his documents and generally just always being there.

J had tried several times to give the brute a well-aimed kick, but he’d always ended up with its teeth and claws embedded in his skin and then [Y/N] coming to its rescue, carrying it away and cooing at it like a baby. J growled out loud at the memory, clicking the safety of his gun. “Time for an extended cat nap...” He muttered darkly, staring back at the creature’s unblinking amber eyes.

“J!” The familiar voice cried from the doorway of the office. J growled in frustration. Bad timing. He rolled his neck in annoyance as he reluctantly dropped the gun. “What are you doing?!” [Y/N] demanded, as she strode quickly into his office.

“Pest control, doll.” He growled moodily, glaring at the cat who still hadn’t moved despite the chance it had been given thanks to [Y/N].

“God, I just can’t let that cat out of my sight without you making an attempt on her life, can I?!” [Y/N] muttered angrily, storming past J to scoop up the bundle of flue into her arms, the creature immediately starting to purr as it rubbed its cheek into [Y/N]’s chest, bumping her jaw affectionately with the top of its head. J grumbled under his breath as he threw his gun down onto the desk, making his way round to his and dropping sulkily down into it as [Y/N] headed for the door with his nemesis.

“Keep that thing outta my office if you don’t want a custom-made scarf, dolly.” J muttered darkly after her.

“If you gave her a change, you might actually like her, J!” [Y/N] sang as she left, not bothering to look back at him as she now left again, the despicable creature staring over her shoulder with its bright eyes at J. That single parting look of triumphant was enough to make J ground his teeth together.

He would find a way to skin that creature.

And it would be alive when he did.

J watched the man drop to the floor behind his desk, teasingly blowing on the end of his gun. It was a shame really, the man, in his time, had been a good money maker – though recently he’d become too risky with too much money – but was much more a shame, J mused, was that Frosty wasn’t here to clean up the mess.

Instead, J had sent him off with the rest of his crew not on jobs to negotiate with a new dealer who’d set up business down in a prime location by the docks. A good asset if some deal could be reached, a good meal for the monsters of the Gotham waterways if it couldn’t.

But, this particularly body would have to wait for whatever further demise was in store until Johnny-boy returned - or at least one of his men that J trusted to have enough brains to handle dumping a body…

It was gonna have to be Frosty.

“Let’s just hope ol’ Johnny-boy ain’t late again,” J muttered to himself, dropping down into his office chair again, “its gonna start smelling like old Croc-o in here real soon…” He muttered, throwing his gun onto his desk as he kicked his feet up next to it and leant back in his chair, content now to lounge in the joy that was taking care of business.

That bubble of contentment was short lived however, being sharply burst when an all too familiar meow came from directly in front of him. J scowled, gritting his teeth as he reached for his gun again, ready this time to finish the deed before [Y/N] could run to the rescue. He dropped his feet to the floor once more and now leaned his tall, slender frame over the desk towards where, on the other side of the corpse - sat as proudly as always - was the cat, Nyx.

As J’s eyes reached it, the cat dropped something from its mouth, then lightly batted it something with it’s foot, pushing the object forward so it lay alongside the dead body. J’s eyes flickered to it, not dropping his gun.

A mouse, from what J could make out. A dead mouse.

“So…” He turned his head back to the cat, “You’re a killer too, hm?” He mused, raising his eyebrows at the feline. Just then, the mouse seemed to leap back to life and make a run for it, but Nyx was on it in a flash, pinning it beneath her paws. J watched as she then shifted her paws, allowing the mouse to escape, but only a few paces before it was yanked back by where its tail was caught beneath Nyx’s claws. The cat then sat back on her haunches, watching the mouse struggle in front of her, occasionally batting it with her spare paw to keep it running. “Ha!” J snorted, sitting back, letting the gun drop in his hand and resting his chin on his hand, eying the cat with interest, “So you’re a torturer, too?” He grinned widely.

The cat meowed again in answer, now striking lethally at the mouse and then abandoning it where it lay, purposefully over the dead corpse - a complete disregard for the life that had been cut short - to make its way to the desk. J lost sight of Nyx for a moment before she then neatly leapt up onto the surface and then lightly sat down, her eyes constantly on J, her tail swishing, almost like she was appraising him. Nyx suddenly seemed to make her mind then though and, without looking away fro J, she reached out a paw to bat the gun next to her onto the floor.

J erupted into hysterical laughter, falling back in his chair. When he calmed down again he pushed his chair then leant forward, his elbows on his knees so his face was almost level with the cat’s. “I’m afraid that’s not all I have, my sweet…” He drawled with a grin, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pen knife he proceeded to flick open. The cat watched the metal curiously and J allowed it to, twisting the blade between his fingers, the light of the office bouncing off it and reflecting onto the desktop. Nyx caught sight of this immediately, transfixed by the slightly flickering shape and sinking into a crouch, ready to stalk her new prey. She lingered in her predatory stance for a beat or two before she made her move, lithely pouncing onto the circle of light.

J fell into a fit of laughter again at this, his movements causing the beam of light to fly across the room, Nyx jumping after it. The Joker continued to tease the cat for a while - thoroughly amused by the harmless predator - allowing Nyx to pounce on the light, seemingly confident she had got it, only for J to tilt the blade slightly and the light appear frustratingly right next to her. He would then send the light and the cat careening across the room in a wild chase, almost forgetting the corpse on the floor or the reason he’d even been irritated enough to shoot him.

J eventually, almost out of breath from laughing at his taunting, flicked the knife closed and replaced it back in his pocket. Nyx paused, looking almost confused for a moment as she glanced around for the spot of light, then seemed to realise it was gone – for now at least – and turned her sights instead to where J still sat. Within a minute, she was back where she had been before, sat directly in front of the Joker, her eyes still studying his pale face with almost suspicion.

This wasn’t particular what J had wanted however, he’d hoped the cat would almost be annoyed at his antics and leave. He tried to ignore her, not particularly in the mood to skin her anymore, and instead busied himself with a pile of cash that sat by the side of him.

It was clear though, that Nyx had a change of heart towards the clown, only pausing briefly before she now stood up again, lightly treading over the papers that littered J’s desk as she made her way over to J’s hands, butting one of them. J grumbled something under his breath, gently batting her away, though she persisted, sitting back and meowing demandingly at him, gently swatting at the hand that waved at her like it was a game.

“Don’t make me get my knife back out, kitty.” J warned, pulling his hand away, giving up trying to shoo the pest, and instead resting his head back on his hand, turning his body away from the pestering feline.

This didn’t seem perturb Nyx though, who now proceeded to wind herself around his arm, rubbing her body affectionately against his sleeve and letting out a rumbling purr. J lifted his head, looking down at the creature in surprise, not knowing that sound to be produced towards him. Did it – did it like him? It was more insane then he was if it was going to take a shine to the psychotic clown who - at numerous times - had considered multiple fail-safe ways to end the creatures life for good - each just as colourful as the next.

The Joker watched the cat, almost fascinated, as he dangled a hand in front of it experimentally, and Nyx broke away from his arm, purposefully walking under his fingers and arching her back into his touch, letting out another purr at the contact. J let his fingers curl into the soft dark fur and almost warily began to stroke along the creatures back, the action almost… soothing.

“I ain’t sayin’ is not there! Um sayin’ I didn’ see nothing!” Marz cried angrily.

An eruption of angry protests broke out against this. Marz had failed. He’d been a scout, a gatherer of information -  some might say the most important part of the mission – or at least they did when that person failed.  

And that’s what he had done.

[Y/N] was the only one at the table who wasn’t trying to fight for a place in the conversation, she couldn’t care less, watching the men around her with a thoroughly bored expression, wondering how long J, at the head of the table, would let this pointless shouting go on for before he told them all to shut it. A quick glance at him told her he wasn’t really paying attention, something else on his mind. Maybe it was the rumour of a rat amongst the men.

Just then, [Y/N] jumped slightly as Nyx landed next to her on the table. She gave the cat a warm smile, glad for the company, and began to stroke her absentmindedly, Nyx arching herself into the touch, purring contently, flicking her tail lovingly at [Y/N]’s cheek. But Nyx also seemed distracted, not sitting and instead barely lingering with [Y/N] before she began to stroll leisurely away and down the meeting table in front of all the arguing men, no care for their raised voices.

“’Ey! Someone get rid of the furball.” One of the men grumbled as it walked past him, the quarrelling slowly fading out as everyone became aware of the cat sashaying amongst them. All the men watched the cat in confusion, not sure what to do.

“Boss?” Someone spoke up, looking for instruction as to what to do. J, however, remained silent where he sat watching the scene, his eyes not leaving Nyx as she looked at each man she passed.

Finally, Nyx stopped, then turned to sit directly in front of a short, balding man, staring straight at him unblinking and letting out a single meow. The man looked thoroughly confused, glancing around anxious at his colleagues, not sure what to do now. “B-Boss?” Tarz – Marz’s brother – spoke up, glancing at J, but the Joker still didn’t speak, watching Nyx as her eyes seemed to almost narrow at Tarz, her tail flicking agitatedly. “B-Boss?” Tarz tried again.

“What’s the problem, gentleman…?” J drawled quietly, speaking to the whole table, “Jumpy over a little cat?” He asked, a slow, wide grin now splitting his face, an idea in his mind it seemed. “Or should I say, scaredy cat?” He quipped with a cruel smile.

Somewhere in the room there was a click of a gun. [Y/N] opened her mouth to protest, but, before she could, J’s own gun was out on the table. “Anyone shoots the cat…” He purred, glancing around the room at each man, “I shoot them…” He promised sinisterly, and numerous men swallowed nervously, glancing around the room in an attempt to work out who had been brave enough to try to pull a gun on the Joker’s cat. “Good…” The Joker praised after no one drew their gun, “Now if everyone would be so kind as to leave…” He murmured quietly, “I’d like a little chat with Tarz here…” Tarz’s eyes widened at this, but no one tried to help him, all the other chairs pushed backwards as everyone apart from [Y/N] departed the meeting.

“Boss, it’s a cat, whattya thi-“

Tarz fell back in his chair, a hole in his forehead. Nyx stayed where she was momentarily, not at all spooked by the gunshot, almost seemingly to want to ensure the man was truly dead before she got to her feet again. She moved past [Y/N], rubbing affectionately against her again in passing, then continued towards the Joker where she proceeded to drop down into his lap, curling up comfortably. The Joker placed a hand on the dark fur of her bac, stroking without much thought to the action, immediately feeling its comforting effect.

[Y/N] smirked at the sight. “You know, you look like a James bond villain.”

J just scowled at her.

Tags for Everything: @nerdybirdyfiz @beautifulbows924 @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @jemjem-chan @arkhamsurviour @angelicshinigami @sheldonsherlocktony @thatwriterizzy

Tags for Joker: @sonyandsam @ivefeltthiswaybefore @inoke

[haxorus-imp]

Alien Affections - Villainous/Reader - Chapter 13

A few days later, you finally get to a point where you could walk around the mansion without feeling too much pain and not needing to be waited on hand-and-foot by 5.0.5 all of the time. With a large stretch, you whine in relief as you can finally move your body without instigating too much pain. Thankfully, Flug was picking up the slack of your absence, meaning that Black Hat would stay off of your case until you fully recovered. But, now since your well on the road to recovery, you can finally get your butt back into the lab and work on some projects. You would finally be relieved when you get back to normal. It was hard trying to bathe in the bandages. As you couldn't take them off and leaving them on your body for too long caused them to reek. You can't wait to get the gauze off and finally work at the ideas that have been brewing in your mind for the past few days. It would be a much needed change of pace from sitting in your bed and doing nothing all day until you eventually passed out again from boredom. Getting up and putting on your new jean pants, which were a dark grey, you slipped on some black socks with your black glow in the dark sneakers and stood up and off of your bed. You couldn't put on a shirt just yet, as today you were getting your bandages removed from around your torso, and it would only get in the way. So, you just picked out one that you would slip on after the bandages were removed from your abdomen. In which it was a plain black shirt with bright green words that say 'I see Aliens' on it. You walked out of your room and out into the hallway, passing by the menacing decor and suits of armor on your way down to the lab. You appeared to be thinking as you made your way to the stairs, looking slightly scorned. 'Two weeks. I've been gone for two weeks.' You thought, mournfully. You just sighed. It can't be helped. The homesickness has been getting worse as the days go by and your 'vacation' from your home world gets longer. You've also noticed how you are losing your normally relaxed personality. Slowly becoming stressed or shut in. To think that you used to wear your heart on your sleeve. 'I've gotta get back to doing relaxing hobbies. . .listen to music. . .something. This planet is changing me from my normal self to a high-strung person. I haven't even been here a full MONTH.' You thought. You began to approach the stairs to the lower floors, getting closer to your destination. 'I wasn't this way until Black Hat mauled me.' You blinked before you frowned. 'Great. The man gives me a few scars and now I'm not behaving like myself! All over a stupid prank.' You internally hissed. 'I'm going to try to be more laid-back and positive today! I'm getting these bandages off, getting back to work, and relax like I used to. I'll sooner be damned than let Black Hat break me and take away my optimism!' You mentally encouraged yourself as you started to descend the stairs to reach the lab. You began to smile, your thoughts brightening your day. 'I'll get home soon! I'm just gonna enjoy the ride and follow what Bob Marley said back on my planet. Everything's gonna be alright, don't worry be happy.' You cheerfully lifted your spirits as you opened the lab door and let yourself in. Inside the lab currently was Black Hat, slightly to your digression, and Flug. Who was nervously holding onto one of his arms and listening to Black Hat order him to do something. You only caught onto the last of what Black Hat was conversing about when you walked in. "-Then! We will make another freeze ray! Our profits will rise, surely! Get to work on those immediately!" Black Hat finished, writing out something on a notepad that he was holding. "Yes, S-Sir." Flug agreed, nodding his head and taking the notepad from Black Hat. It was only when Flug looked away from Black Hat that he noticed your presence. "Oh! I see you a-arrived, (Name)." Flug greeted, which caused Black Hat to turn around. He cocked his long brows at your upper bandaged torso, currently not being covered by the shirt you had in your hands. "I see you've recovered fairly well." Black Hat stated as you walked over. You acknowledged him and gave him your signature lazy smile. Grinning bigger when you noticed his long brow twitch in agitation. "Yep! I'm well enough and ready to take these bandages off, Flug!" You said with a smile. Flug was internally happy to see this side of you again, grinning and brimming with joy. Just like the first few days you came to his planet. Which now felt so long ago, despite only being two weeks ago. "I see. G-go over to your workbench and I'll be over in a second." Flug stated, hurrying over to gather the medical supplies to remove the gauze around your upper body. You nodded at his request and parked yourself onto your workbench. Noticing Black Hat had followed you to the table and was standing there. It felt like an awkward few minutes, before you smiled at him. "S'up, boss?" You waved. Black Hat just raised an unamused brow at you're greeting. "What's crackle lacking?" You grinned bigger when his eye twitched. "What?" He growled. "How's it hanging, B-Dawg? What up, Big B? Big cheese, how do you please?" You gave him the finger guns, while he just grew more agitated. "Big Hat, Man in Black, Saucy Gentleman, Double B, Head to the hat-" "ENOUGH!" Black Hat yelled, silencing you and scaring Flug. He snarled at you, his visible pupil a frustrated red and black. . . . You grinned at him. "Righto, Bosso!" You laughed when he growled in warning at you. Flug hurried by Black Hat and toward yourself. Setting the gauze shears, cleaning pads, and sterile ointment on top of your workbench. He was also holding a chemistry apron to cover up your front while he took the bandages off. Like all of the times he had to change or redo your bandages. Flug began to prepare you to remove the gauze, slipping on the apron as he did so, and pausing to stare at his boss when Black Hat hadn't left the lab yet. Black Hat noticed the stare that Flug was giving him as you adjusted on the table. He leered at Flug. "What?" He snapped. Flug jumped at the accusation. "U-Uh. If you d-don't mind me asking, s-sir. Are you going to s-stay for the removal of the b-bandages?" Flug stuttered, facing toward you when you got the apron on and faced the opposite way on the workbench. Black Hat scoffed. "Of course, I'm staying. I want to see the wounds that I inflicted upon them." Black Hat spoke, like it wasn't a traumatizing experience for you. You gave him a subtle stare over your shoulder before facing forward again. "R-Right." Flug muttered, picking up the the scissors and he began to remove the gauze. It felt great! Like a butterfly breaking through it's chrysalis and drying it's wings to prepare to fly. Your breathing got easier and your skin popped back out, freeing itself from captivity. You sighed in relief as the gauze began to shed off of you in ribbons, freeing yourself as you relax. Once most of the gauze was removed, Flug let out a whistle at the scars that were revealed. While Black Hat seemed to be impressed by his own handy work. The wounds had healed nicely. Varying from light pink to a hot pink. There were four scars that trailed down the length of your back. The farthest scars from the middle were a light pink, not being the center of all of the pressure when Black Hat attacked you. While the dark pink was within the center of your back, where most of the pressure from Black Hats' claws was centered around. Black Hat and Flug inspected them both. The scars were still settling, but they would heal over nicely and leave pink marks in your skin. The bite was also healing over nicely, though, the scars of it were much more red. Still healing as of that moment, just after having the stitches removed from your body a about a day ago. It would still need to be covered with a sterile strip, but it's not as severe as it was on the night of the attack. In appearance, it almost resembled a shark bite. "They look g-great, (Name)! They're healing quite nicely with the special healing o-ointment I was using on you." Flug explained, as he cleaned them up with the cleaning pads and applied the said ointment to the bite wound. Then applying a new sterile strip to it. Covering it up once more. "Awesome! Can I go to a mirror and see them?" You asked, eagerly bouncing on the workbench. "I-I guess? There's a mirror in the bathroom." Flug said, while collecting the discarded bandages. You hopped off of your workbench and hurried to the labs' bathroom.   To some people, scars are ugly. To others, scars tell stories of past hardships. To you, they're Black Hats' version of something that you can take back with you to your home planet. Even if it wasn't with your consent and was permanently engraved on your body. You still didn't favor Black Hat. Nor liked him as you think you should. He hasn't even apologized for attacking you yet. You just shook the thoughts off. You still get to mess with the guy, though. Even if that's what gave you the scars anyway. -- You just got finished looking at your scars in the bathroom. They resembled tattoos, except without color and ink. But, even if they did, they still look cool. You walked out in your black 'I see Aliens' shirt with the chemistry apron balled up in one hand when you left the bathroom. By the time you walked out, Flug was pulling something from the more secure-looking safe that sat near a chemistry set. He was holding a vial that contained a bright and pinkish liquid, shifting it around in it's container. Black Hat was nowhere to be seen. It appeared he had left when you rushed off to the bathroom. You approached Flug. "Hey, what do you got there?" You asked in curiosity. To which startled Flug, causing him to flail around and stumble. He turned to look at you with wide eyes. "(Name)! Please! Refrain from sneaking up on me!" He exclaimed, as he held his chest to still his rapidly beating heart. "Sorry, dude." You apologized, looking at the vial that he was holding. Flug caught your stare and covered it slightly with his hand. "Y-yes...well. This is just. . .ammunition! For. . .ray guns!" Flug slid his eyes to the side, sweating slightly. You squinted your eyes at him. "Interesting. I didn't know ray guns took liquid ammunition." You placed a finger on your chin. "Though, I DID hear Black Hat talking about a freeze ray." You pondered. "Y-yes! Precisely that! This is liquid ammunition for the freeze ray I need to build!" Flug quipped. You stared at him in suspicion. He was behaving ominously. Not like his usual self. 'Oh please, believe that!' Flug thought, nervous about being found lying and getting questioned. It would be better if you didn't know what he was using your blood for. Fearing that his research would end there. He still had much to learn from it and if the carrier gets upset and refused to give him more...it would all be for not. . . . . "Okay then." You replied. Much to the mental relief of Flug. "Carry on then! I'm gonna rush upstairs and take a nice gauze-free bath." You explained, walking back towards the exit of the lab to get rid of the lingering reek that stuck to your skin from the time the bandages were on you. "Oh, y-yeah. You go and do that. I got to get to work on the rays that Black Hat wanted me to make." Flug responded. You nodded and headed out the labs' door. Closing it on your way out. Flug gave a sigh of relief when you left without a hassle. Still, he expects that you know more than you do, but just decided to not push him to the edge. Which he was silently grateful for. Looking at the vial in his hand, he squinted slightly at it. 'I still need to know more about this. If I'm not careful, this could fall into the wrong hands.' Flug sighed. Mentally running through a thought process. He placed the vial back into the safe and made sure that the safe was closed. He then went over to the desk that the glass chemistry set sat on and opened up the drawers. Revealing plenty of beakers that had cold frost on the outside of the glass containers and various other glowing chemicals that were held within the same drawer. 'I feel bad for lying to them. . .but it's for their safety.' Flug blinked as he pulled out a frosted over beaker to take over to his work station. Unknowingly leaving the safe to the potent poison unlocked. -- Flug was busy working on the three rays that Black Hat wanted. Black Hat wanted an elemental trio ray gun sale, to boost profits. As Flug was currently in the middle of welding them together and screwing the pieces together of the heat ray, he failed to hear the door to his lab open. In slid Dementia, hissing like a rattler as she crawled along the floor and scurried behind the oblivious scientist. Flug paused for a brief moment, thinking he heard something, before shaking his head and getting back to welding the pieces of metal together. Dementia peaked over the edge of the chemistry table, cackling softly as she made faces in the beakers and bulbous glasses. Watching as her equally psychotic reflections changed shape and form. She was usually never stealthy. Preferring to come into the lab loud and boisterous. But, she knew something was up when Flug would stay up past his usual bedtime. Let alone would keep the lab to himself and would put up a severely unconvincing front of lies to excuse himself. She smelled secrets. Secrets that needed to be found. Now. Where are secrets usually kept? She pondered her choices. She already searched Flugs' room. She just found plane oriented objects and some chemistry kits there. So his room was a bust. The only other place that he was using was the lab. He was frequently here at night, even on his off days! He would always be up for walking and playing with 5.0.5 when he had time. He rarely spends time in the lab on those certain days. That's what made Dementia suspicious. She stalked around behind the chemistry table, eyeing particular safes around the lab. Flug had installed those when she started to break in regularly. His typical form of retaliation. She slithered over to a few. Trying their handles, finding that they wouldn't budge. Except one. Dementia gave a psychotic grin when one gave way to the pull of her hand. Yet, inside was only a lonely vial of a reddish-pink liquid. She had to hold in her disappointed 'awww'. As she suspected something more sinister. Yet. Looks can be deceiving. Flug wouldn't have put it in a safe if it wasn't important. Looking over her shoulder, she could see Flug still working away on the rays. Too busy to notice her thievery. She reached in and grabbed the vial, taking it out. She sniffed it out of curiosity. Surprisingly, it smelled good! She attempted to sneak out the way she came with her prize, yet she bumped into a beaker that was sitting on the chemistry desk, causing it to fall to the ground and shatter. Startling Flug to look over in her direction. She gave him a casual wave, holding up the vial for him to see. Like a bolt of lightening, Flug was suddenly throwing everything off and sprinting for Dementia. The girl then bolted from the lab, her prize in her grip as she skipped along into the foyer. A frantic Flug chasing after her. "Dementia! Dementia!!! YOU GIVE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!" Flug screeched, tearing through the lab door and pursuing Dementia. The girl just gave her signature psychotic laugh and started to scale up the pillars in the foyer like a gecko on a tree in the wild. Making it up to the beams that held up the upper floors to the manor. Placing her legs on either side of the beam, she stared down at the masked scientist, a teasing look in her eye. Flug was down below, causing an uproar as he circled below her in anxious frustration. "Aw~ What's wrong, Flug Bug? Does it have to do with this?" The girl cackled, while holding up the vial. "Yes! Yes! It has EVERYTHING to do with THAT! Dementia! Just listen to me! That liquid is very dangerous! It was in that safe for that exact purpose!" Flug yelled up to Dementia, his voice echoing across the manor. "Give it back! I don't want you to get hurt!" Flug hollered up to the girl from below. "Hmm...I don't know." She sniffed it. "Smells pretty good! I hope you don't mind if I have a little sip?" Dementia said, swishing the vial around in her grasp. "Yes! Yes, I do mind! Dementia-!!!" Flug was suddenly stricken with absolute horror when Dementia chugged the vial and all of its' contents. She licked her lips and smiled down at Flug, who was stunned stiff. "Hmm. . .Funny. I don't feel any different. I guess it was a du-" Faster than Flug could process it, Dementia suddenly hunched over, let out a pained cry, and lost her balance. She fell off of the beam. Hitting the floor face-up with a loud thud and the empty vial falling from her grasp, shattering across the floor. She didn't even resist the hit, falling. . . as if she was dead. Flug started to rapidly hyperventilate. Looking at Dementias' still body and the shattered remains of his work. He felt like he was going to throw up. He felt ill, scared, angry, and a lot of different emotions surging through his mind. His pulse ran fast and loud. He's having a panic attack. To make things worse, Black Hat just approached the stairs. Having been drawn in by the ruckus. "WHAT IS GOING-?!?!" Black Hat froze at the sight in front of him. Dementia on the floor, not moving. Shattered glass spread all over the place and Flug was having a panic attack. He was stuck in place by complete confusion. Flug suddenly felt like dying there on the spot, as he knelt down and became severely lightheaded. Everything was going so wrong. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Next> <Previous ~First~

[cut-off-the-grain]

A Quiver Is Not

A little hurt/comfort for @obsessions-and-dreams because she deserves nothing but nice things and is having a bad day. I hope things get better, darling! Until then, let Hux suffer with you!

“An arrow is easily broken. A quiver of ten is not.” -Japanese Proverb (or so says the internet!)

~ He’s finally, finally, on the last report of the day, three hours past the end of Alpha shift with a bright kernel of pain which has settled right behind his eye that he knows will morph into a migraine if he doesn’t get to stop staring at a screen soon.

He presses the approval for the requisition, scrawls a sloppy signature and hits the button to finally send all of the days forms when the screen of his datapad flickers, freezes, then blinks to black and stay there. He stares in disbelief for a moment then gives the thing a hard shake while desperately pleading with it to power back on. When shaking it doesn’t work he smacks the damned thing on his desk and watches with a jolt of happiness when the screen lights up.

The screen lights up, and then immediately the pad lets out a staticky shriek and goes black again.

He wishes he was the sort of man prone to outbursts of emotion- he’s certain throwing the thing against the wall would solve nothing, but it would probably make a satisfying sound. He wonders if crying would do anything to relieve the throbbing pressure in his head.

Kylo finds him, long minutes later, with his eyes clenched shut against the bright lights of his office, his previous headache having evolved into an excruciating migraine which the light only makes worse. He’s dreading having to call for another datapad, his stomach churning with the thought of forgoing much needed sleep to stare at a screen while his temples pound and he slogs through work he has already done but is forced to do again.

“What-” Kylo begins, and Hux winces at the sound.

“If you must speak, speak softly,” he commands as fiercely as he can while not raising his voice above a whisper.

“You need to rest,” Kylo says softly, crouching down, his hand hovering near Hux’s face but not touching.

“What I need,” he grits out, “is for my damn datapad to start working again, so I don’t have to redo everything I’ve already done.” He pauses after he says it, the thought of all that hard work gone due to faulty technology making him want to cry again. He draws in a shuddery breath. “But I would settle for this headache to go away so I can at least work in peace.” He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, the pressure momentarily warding away the pain. When he pulls them back starbursts dance before his eyes.

“C’mon,” Kylo coaxes, a hand on Hux’s arm urging him up. “Let’s go to your room. You can use mine, and at least it will be dark.”

When he looks at Kylo, at his watery eyes and the scar that bisects his face and the soft expression of concern that pulls his lips down and etches creases into his forehead he finds he has no will to fight. Just nods, and lets himself be led.

In the months since Starkiller things have settled between him and Ren. They’ve been united by their failures and humbled by their losses. They found, both broken and beaten, that it was easier to claw their way out of the ashes with help.

How fitting, Hux thinks, that all it took was the destruction of his life’s work, his complete humiliation, to learn to work with others.

And then, three nights ago, with one more Corellian Brandy than he really should have had warming him, making him stupidly rave, he had kissed Kylo. Had brushed his thumb across the smooth pink skin of his scar and cupped a hand around the soft edge of his jaw and pulled Ren close and parted his lips and kissed him.

He shivers with the memory of how Kylo had moaned, had melted into the touch and pulled Hux close, closer, their bodies pressed hot and tight together.

It’s only when Kylo waves open the door that Hux, leaning his shaking weight on Kylo, realizes Kylo has led them to his own quarters and not Hux’s.

He tries to protest when Kylo leads them straight to his unmade bed but he doesn’t have the strength, every movement seeming to cost him more energy than it should so he allows himself to be bullied onto the bed, Kylo sliding in beside him to sit propped up against the headboard. He’s ragdoll limp with pain as Kylo arranges him, pulls Hux’s head into his warm lap. Hux burrows close, presses his forehead into the scratch wool of Kylo’s robes.

“I need your login credentials,” Kylo whispers, handing him a datapad, the casing scratched from rough handling. And how unfair that Kylo’s pad works flares to life as he punches in his passcode while his own, despite his care, has died.

He starts to fight when Kylo pulls the pad back. “Hux, please,” Kylo says, prying his determined fingers off the pad. “Let me help.”

He makes a noise of complaint but relinquishes the pad. Kylo’s hand, big and strong, settles on his neck and he can’t help the whimper as he rubs the stiff muscles. “Form 1098-B,” Kylo reads, voice low and his fingers still working the knots from Hux’s neck. “Request for transfer of personnel- Maker, Hux, how do you not have a headache everyday, having to do all these?”

He hums when Kylo’s thumb digs into an especially stubborn knot of muscle in his shoulder, turns his head a littler farther into the give of Kylo’s thigh. “For Sergeant Abbott,” he says, recalling the request. “Approve it.”

Kylo reads through the forms, approving them as Hux dictates, only presenting the pad when it requires a thumbprint signature.

His voice stays low and even, the tedious words turned captivating as Kylo reads them, his hand working the ache from Hux’s shoulders, easing the pain from his head. When he finishes he turns the pad to Hux for his signature and he finds the light doesn’t burn his eyes quite so badly.

Kylo tosses the pad aside when everything’s sent and slides down, resettles Hux until his head rests on Kylo’s strong shoulder.

“Better?” He asks, fingers carding through Hux’s hair.

“Mm, yes, actually. Thank you.”

“Of course. Hux, you know I-” Kylo cuts himself off, swallows. “I, I care for you.”

He hides his grin against Kylo’s shoulder. They’re not there, not yet, this things still too new. But maybe, someday. Someday soon.

He searches for Kylo’s hand, tries to find it without opening his eyes. When he finally finds it he curls their fingers together, squeezes it.

“Thank you,” he says again.

“Tomorrow, I could take a look at your pad,” Kylo offers. “I’m actually rather skilled at fixing things.”

Like emotionless generals who are prone to headaches, Hux doesn’t say. Just shakes his head instead.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get a new one.”

He drifts to sleep with Kylo’s fingers in his hair, rocked by the steady rise and fall of the chest beneath him, the thump of Kylo’s pulse so close to his ear a lullabye. His final thought, as his eyes drift close for the last time, is that maybe he’ll keep the broken datapad. Tuck it away, somewhere no one else will ever find it, maybe in his dresser, beneath the uniform he still keeps from the Academy, despite it being of no use to him and several sizes too small anyway. His own little sentimental secret, will pull it out when Ren is away on missions and hold cool metal casing in his hands and think of Kylo’s soothing voice and gentle touch.      

[yayasoba]

Mamae’Harel

Well the computer ate your ask when I drafted it so I had to redo it. I trusted you for Nyra.

Well since apparently Nyra will never be able to answer Tia’s questions for herself, here we go: a blast to the past. And oh, how so many secrets come to light.

May the Dread Wolf never hear your steps, she was always told. May he never catch your scent.

Well now he would quickly learn to fear hers.

Even after he left the Inquisition quite abruptly, Nyra still occasionally met him in the Fade. Even with the awkwardness that sometimes persisted after their arrangement ended, she missed her old friend. She never told anyone, even Tia. What good would it do? He was gone and didn’t wish to be found. She had tried occasionally on her own, but all her searches failed.

Now she didn’t care where she found him, living or dreaming. She wanted to tear him limb from limb.

“SOLAS!” she screamed, blasting a fireball - one of the few offensive spells she had - at him. He easily deflected it, calm in the face of her rage, but he would not so easily avoid her. “You lying bastard! How could you? We all trusted you! I trusted you!” She abandoned her torrent of fire to instead leap at him and start clawing at whatever she could reach. Of course, he was much stronger than her and trapped in his vice-like grip, she quickly drained herself trying to get free. Eventually, she stopped struggling and his restraining arms became a support to keep her from collapsing to the ground.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper over the gentle breeze of spirits passing. Her eyes were dry, but she felt as raw as if she had been weeping for hours. It had been three years since she had felt so grieved, and that hurt mixed with her current pain until Nyra felt like it was too much to bear.

“I had no choice,” he said quietly, stroking her hair.

“Liar,” she whispered. “There’s always a choice.”

“This world was never meant to exist. I must fix my mistake.”

“Is that all we are to you?” Nyra asked, angry again. She pushed against Solas’s chest and he let her lean back enough to look him in the eye, though he did not release her. “Mistakes?”

He didn’t answer.

“So you would destroy everything we’ve worked to save,” she said, eyes dimming. “You would destroy even your friends in an attempt to bring back a time that is better left alone.”

“You told me yourself that you would use the knowledge of the Well to restore the elves. You said you would do whatever it took.”

“That is not the same, and you know it! I only wish for elves to be free and equal to everyone else,” Nyra protested. She would not let him twist her words. “I want for us to live in peace, where my children are not seen as less than anyone else. Why can’t you fight for that instead, Solas?” she pleaded.

He looked pained for a moment, but then his face hardened. “I will not speak further of this tonight. I have already discussed this with Tia, and expect you will try to change my mind with as much tenacity. However, I did not see you tonight in order to argue this.” He held a hand up when she tried to protest. “Our paths did not cross during the Exalted Council, and I missed you.” When he pulled her close at these words, Nyra didn’t try to pull away. When he began to sit, neither one let go, so while she didn’t end up in his lap, her legs rested over his as he kept her close to his side.

Hugging him back, she remembered a time when she had thought herself almost in love with him. However, though they could lie to themselves and each other, in the end his heart was Tia’s and her’s was Cullen and they had mutually agreed that they were much better friends than lovers. But he was one of her closest friends, even when their conversations began to happen less and less often, and she would always love him as fiercely as she did Ismae and Dorian.

“How is everyone?” he asked.

“We’re recovering from the Council,” she said. “Quite a lot happened there. I’ve been busy even before we got back trying to clean up your messes.”

She decided not to mention that Ismae and Tia were now romantically involved. Solas and Ismae held a burning hatred for the other, and Nyra knew it was only for her love of Tia that kept her from hunting Solas down and slitting his throat. She had no interest in piquing him with that information. Let his spies have the misfortune of giving him that news.

“How is Yvaine?” he asked.

Nyra instinctively knew this was the reason why he had come. With how fiercely she and Cullen protected their child, even his spies would have trouble bringing news of how his daughter grew.

“She is fine,” she said, lips thinning into a stern line.

It was common knowledge that Eyan was Solas’s child. However, Nyra had always been much more tight lipped about the identity of her daughter’s father. Everyone had assumed Yvaine was Cullen’s before she gave birth, including Nyra. Only Nyra and Cullen knew the truth afterward. Everyone else eventually came to assume it was some elf scout that Nyra must have had a fling with during the months she and Cullen were not talking. Little did they know that she, feeling quite heartsore at the time, took comfort in a very different pair of arms.

At first it had been just friendship, finding comfort in a kindred spirit, but eventually, with too much wine, it had turned into a mistake that Nyra didn’t try to rectify as quickly as she should have. Her only comfort was that she didn’t know the real story behind the end of Solas’s and Tia’s ended relationship until after she and Cullen had made up.

“Just fine?” he asked, frowning.

Nyra sighed. In the end, their enemy or friend, he was still concerned about his daughter. She shouldn’t feel bitter. She had a much easier time of it than Tia had, and Cullen adored Yvaine. Even though he knew about Solas before she gave birth, it had taken time for him to adjust. But now he loved Yvaine as though he was his own. He frequently paraded her around on his shoulders when he reviewed the troops, and spoke of her with such pride in his eyes.

“She is growing strong. She’s grasped the concept of talking, though she hasn’t quite figured out that she can occasionally pause for breath and let someone else speak.” Nyra chuckled as she remembered leaving Cullen to tuck Yvaine into bed, and how his bedtime story had been slow going as she stopped to question him every other sentence about things that may or may not have been relevant to the tale. “She has your curiosity, but none of your patience.”

He laughed softly. “In time, falon, she shall learn. I was not always as patient as I am now.”

They lapsed into silence, as Nyra began playing with the wolf jaw necklace. She had always been poor at keeping her hands still, which was a good thing as a healer. No healer hands were ever still when there were fools in the world.

“Why couldn’t you come back?” she whispered. “Tia misses you.” Ismae would murder her for even suggesting it, but Nyra knew that Eyan at least deserved to know her father. “We all miss you.”

He smiled wryly. “Not all of you.”

“I didn’t think the opinion of everyone mattered so much to Fen’harel,” she said saucily.

“It doesn’t. But I know when I am not welcome, and your cousin alone would be difficult enough to placate, even without the considerable support she would likely have. Do not worry, falon. We shall see each other again. Perhaps Yvaine will be old enough to join us then.”

“No, Solas,” she said, her voice hardening, though still quiet. “You are my friend and her sire, but unless you are at Skyhold physically, you will never see her. We have made enough mistakes behind everyone’s backs, and I will not bring her further into this. I will not give you access to my daughter’s mind. You gave both of your children up when you left three years ago, and unless you’re willing to come back into their lives permanently, I will not allow you to influence them. You do not deserve that privilege.”

His face grew dark, and for a moment Nyra understood why he had been so feared during Arlethan. Dread Wolf indeed. But the look passed, and he was once again Solas.

“I understand,” he said, “Perhaps one day. But not today.” He took her hands and helped her to her feet.

“You’re leaving.” Hardly a question, simply a personal musing. “It seems you’ve been doing too much of that, my friend.” Quietly, gently, she cupped the side of his face in her hand. “Please at least consider it. For Tia. For your daughters.” For me. I miss my friend.

“Perhaps one day, you will understand,” he said, his hand taking hers and squeezing it before he pulled it from his face.

“And perhaps one day, you will understand why I never will,” she replied. “Goodbye, my friend.”

In a heartbeat, his face was gone and she was awake. Nyra felt her husband’s breath tickle her neck, his snores faint tonight. Good. The lung infection was finally clearing. Carefully, Nyra nudged Cullen’s arm off her. The carpets muffled the sound of her bare feet hitting the floor, as she sneaked to the adjoining room.

Seeing Yvaine’s angelic face, peaceful in sleep, her long, pointed ears twitching as she dreamed, Nyra let out a frustrated huff. Even if Solas said he would leave her alone, it didn’t mean she trusted his word anymore.

Anyone named Fen’Harel had earned the title for good reason. The problem lay in the fact she didn’t have anything but his word to ensure that her daughter stayed free of him.

A strong arm pulled her against a solid, warm chest. She brought her hands up to Cullen’s arm, drawing strength from his steady breath.

“Did I wake you?” she whispered.

“I can always feel you being a nervous mother,” he murmured in her ear, chuckling. “And ever since the Exalted Council ended, you’ve barely left her alone. She’s safe as she ever was.”

“He thinks he’s doing good,” she said. “That he’s helping the elves. And yet he turns his back on his friends; on Eyan, the child that needed him.” They both knew the omission of Yvaine is intentional. She had her father already.

“Perhaps one day he will realize his mistake.”

“And if he doesn’t,” Nyra said, staring at her daughter with fierce love in her heart, “I will not let him win. I will not let him destroy our daughter’s future.”

He was a powerful opponent, she knew. In sparring fights there had been no question of who was the master of offensive magic. However, that was before he risked her daughter’s life. Now, there would be no weakness to her strikes. She would rain down fire and lightning to make Thedas tremble.

The Dread Wolf would learn to fear a mother’s scent.

[taniasinel]

The Most Famous Sofa is No More!

When you think of famous sofas, just a few come to mind.  There is the Knole Sofa, from the 1600s, the first and most important sofa made.  Though modified for today’s comfort, this version of a sofa is still widely made today – including this one that was just installed in Provence:

A modern day version of the Knole sofa seen at the “Le Mas des Poiriers.”

Another iconic sofa is the Chesterfield.  Long thought to have been first made for Lord Phillip Stanhope, the 4th Earl of Chesterfield, in the 18th century, this has never been authenticated.  Still, the Chesterfield remains one of the most widely recognized sofas in the world.

And then there is Lee Radziwill’s famous silk velvet Tiger sofa – seen above.

Though not as famous as the Chesterfield or the Knole, it’s hard to think of another personally held sofa that is as well known as this one.  Radziwill custom ordered the sofa in the 1960s when she moved from London to New York City.  The sofa was placed in her library with its lilac walls.  Radziwill kept the sofa for years and years and when her son Anthony moved into an apartment, she gifted him with the sofa.

Is this the most famous sofa of all times?  Surely it’s not as famous as the original Knole sofa but it’s hard to think of a more well known one.

 In the new Veranda, this house features a tiger sofa in Scalamandre silk velvet, inspired by Lee Radziwill’s own sofa.  The sofa was the setting off point for the decor of the entire house.

The Radziwill sofa is so well known that when Lee’s daughter-in-law, Carole Radziwill, wrote her memoir, she included this story about the sofa: 

“I have bumped up against history.  It won’t be the first time.  Most things here, I am learning, have a story.  The tiger couch, for instance, is not just a couch, but one his mother had custom-made at De Angeles. It has been photographed for fashion books. People in certain circles know this couch, just as people in other circles know this chair.”

Carole Radziwill is famous for all her many lives, like the cats she is now fostering.  First she was a single, very respected TV reporter working in war torn areas.  Her career as a reporter earned her three Emmys and a Peabody Award. 

Carole and Anthony Radziwill at their wedding. 

While working as a reporter, Carole kissed her Prince and got married.  And he was not just any Prince, but he was also the nephew of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.  The title is from his father, who comes from a long line of Polish royalty.  Apparently Anthony Radziwill never used his inherited title although his cousin and surrogate brother,  John Kennedy Jr., used to teasingly call Anthony “Principe.”   The two couples, Anthony and Carole and John and his wife Carolyn, became the closest of friends, and the four were inseparable.

Anthony was a testicular cancer survivor when they married and he suffered a recurrence of cancer on their honeymoon.  Their five years of their marriage was marked by sickness, operations,  and heartache.   During this stage, Carole was the young bride but also a full time nurse. 

John and Carolyn Kennedy’s ashes were sent to sea.  Anthony was very, very ill at this stage.

After valiantly fighting to beat cancer, Anthony was very ill when he and Carole received the horrifying news that Carolyn and John Kennedy had died in a plane crash.  Anthony clung to life for just three weeks before he too died.   Suddenly, Carole was a young widow who lost not only her husband, but also her best friends.  She was grief stricken for years.

Five years later Carole released her book “What Remains.”    It’s a gut wrenching tale of cancer and death and loneliness and what remains left behind.  I highly recommend it.

(to order the book, just click on the cover.)

Carole was the celebrated best-selling author in the next phase of her life, although she mostly stayed under the radar, that is until producer Andy Cohen, a friend, talked her into joining his hit Bravo show – “Real Housewives of New York.”   On the show, Carole plays the role of the intelligent, mature housewife although she was embroiled in a bit of a scandal when she started dating someone about 20 years her junior.

Carole and her young boyfriend Adam Kenworthy

Hey, it’s good enough for our President AND the President of France!

Carole lives in an interesting building in between So-Ho and the West Village in an Historic Landmark District.  The five story Queen Ann building was built in 1886 as a grammar school.  Her apartment has large windows and 16’ ceilings in the main living room.  A tiny kitchen and bedroom ring the expansive living room.   Carole ran for and won a place on the co-op’s board of directors.

A few years ago, Carole made a big splash when she completely decorated her condominium in gold and caramel tones with green accents.  The color scheme was chosen around the famous Radziwill tiger sofa. 

The renovation  was beautiful and it made all the blogs and websites.

The issue though became the sofa itself.  The silk velvet fabric is so expensive that most can’t afford even a pillow made out of it, much less the 30 yards needed to cover an entire sofa.  After almost sixty years, the velvet was becoming rather decrepit.

About ten years ago, Carole had pieced the velvet back together by taking fabric from the back of the bottom cushions that was then used to cover the torn parts.

Now, ten years later, the repairs were failing.  The sofa was badly in need of a restoration – but at those prices, who could afford it?

When the new season started a few months ago, the sofa became a talking point.  The other housewives commented on how bad it was beginning to look.  Carole had started fostering kittens for Howard Stern’s wife Beth Stern and their claws had destroyed the fragile sofa completely.

On Andy Cohen’s late night show, even he asked about the famous sofa and Carole told him it was an issue, explaining how well known it is and that people are invested in it!

So it came as a complete shock to look at the Architectural Digest web site today and realize that the famous Tiger Sofa is no more!!

After all these years, the most well-known tiger sofa is forever gone.

Here’s a look at Carole’s condo – Before her first remodeling, The First Remodeling and The Newest Decor from today!

BEFORE:  Before the first remodeling, Carole had an architect add these rather scary-looking, but stunning stairs up to the second bedroom.  Underneath the stairs, she had a piano.

BEFORE:  Another view of the dark floors and modern staircase.  Definitely in need up a decorator.

DURING THE FIRST RENOVATION – Carol added a large chandelier and the apartment got a new coat of paint.

RENOVATION #1:   For the first renovation, Carole hired Wayman Robertson.  He refinished the front hall in Philip Jeffries Rivets wallpaper.  At the opposite end is the kitchen with its new striped floors.

RENOVATION #1:  The gold rug, the tiger sofa, the two chairs now covered in green velvet.  Large new mirror between the windows, new chandelier, long console behind sofa.  A small dining table and two chairs were placed under the large mirror.

RENOVATION #1:   The windows are not the same width – but by dressing them alike, it’s not so noticeable.

.

RENOVATION #1:  The view behind the sofa.   Art work, matching lamps.

RENOVATION #1 – A big change was the addition of the gold velvet sectional underneath the stairs – the piano is now gone.  Notice that the upholstered feet mimic the feet on the tiger sofa.

RENOVATION #1 – The ceiling was wallpapered with silver leaf in a square pattern.  This helps to warm up the room and draw the ceiling back down to more human proportions.

RENOVATION #1 – A night view of the condo.

RENOVATION #1 – Carol posed in front of the new velvet sectional.

And here, in front of the staircase.   The dining table and chairs have been moved over here for some reason.

BEFORE:  Carol doesn’t cook so she decides to turn her kitchen into more of an office space.  Of course right after the renovation is completed, she meets a budding Chef who moves in and starts cooking up a storm in her “office.”

BEFORE:  Carol  talks to her architect about turning the kitchen into more of an office.

RENOVATION #1 – The kitchen was updated.  New mirrored subway tile backsplash.  New striped floors.  Counter space is turned into desk space by moving the sink over.

RENOVATION #1:  Carole’s small bedroom is downstairs.  Here is covered in a suede fabric on the bed and walls. 

RENOVATION #1: The second bedroom is upstairs.  Carole turned this small space into an office/closet.

The first renovation was given high marks. It looked good in photographs and on blogs and even better when Carole was filmed in her apartment for Real Housewives of New York.

But, this season, Season 9, the sofa became an issue.  Looking back to an early episode, I should have realized a completely new renovation was in the works:  fabric samples in blue tones were laid across the back of the sofa.  I just didn’t really notice those!

In a later episode, Bethany comes over to talk about the sofa.  She tells Carole that the destruction “looks intentional at this point.”  She says the sofa looks like it has gone through a ginzo knife and a Cuisinart.  They decide to turn over the cushion.

And here you can see the bottom cushion is covered in a plain brown fabric, since a decade ago, Carole had already used that fabric to repair the sofa.

There was just no way to go on with the sofa like this, especially with a litter of foster kittens running around. 

When Carol meets John Bossard, a designer, in Aspen, she asks him to redecorate for her.  Perhaps he already knows about the famous Radziwill sofa.  No one can be sure of that.   It’s hard to believe but Bossard does not have a web site up, yet.  Oy.  NO WEB SITE?!?!?

At first the order was just to redo “THE” sofa but of course that never works and John’s work was not finished until the entire apartment was redecorated from top to bottom, just a few years after it was all done before. 

Bossard kept the Jeffries paper in the entry but the rug was updated with a more traditional design which suits the small space much better.  The kitchen was closed off with a frosted door that lets in light but keeps out the distraction of ovens and refrigerators.    The ceiling was painted a dark color and a contemporary sputnik fixture was added along with a collection of mirrors.  And it looks like all the trim was painted a darker brown.  The changes are subtle, but the space is much more elegant than it was before.

WOW.  WOW.   The new apartment is completely different!!!  It’s now icy blue and silver and very sleek much like Carole is!!  The tall mirror remains but now there are blue curtains and a fabric shade, along with window seats in blues.  The arrangement is different too – the curved sofa that was under the stairs has been moved across from the Radziwill sofa that is now –EEK – in an icy blue fabric by Lee Jofa!!!

Say a goodbye prayer for the most famous sofa that is now just a memory.

And here is how it looks.  Bossard said he had to rebuild the sofa, replacing the filling and reconstructing its original form.  It looks wonderful and brand new and good to go for another 60 years.  Carole’s twin Brutalist table lamps, wearing new icy blue shades,  remain on the console, next to a new piece of art work.  There are all new tables – the wood coffee table is gone, as are all the side tables.   The one thing I miss are the Chinese chairs that once flanked the console.  I don’t understand why they were tossed.

Carole’s original Dunbar chairs,  now recovered, remain, as does the shelf and cabinet.  The floors were also redone, they are now a silvery gray brown.  

I love the new furniture arrangement – it makes more sense like this.

Another banquette was added to the corner, this time it becomes a small dining spot, which is handy when your boyfriend is a chef.  The sunburst mirror remains, but everything else is new.

The view in front of the cabinet and shelf.  The faux sheep are at the right and at the left,  the plant is actually a lamp!

A close up of the new icy blue sofa.  In the corner, an acrylic pedestal.

The kitchen aka office has a new fabric wall, but that’s all.

The first floor bedroom has also been completely redone.  In silvery blues with pink accents – it blends with the living room decor.  The walls are upholstered and there is a new petal art exhibit by Bradley Sabin above the beds.   The vanity was moved down from the second floor closet.

There is just enough room for another window seat in pink.

And upstairs in the second bedroom, the once office closet is now a large dressing room.  The room was carpeted in leopard in homage to the now long gone tiger.  The ceiling was upholstered and everything is now dramatically lit.  It’s for a star, that’s for sure.  But it’s hard to believe they actually sell this space as a “second bedroom” when in reality it is just a small closet!

And so, this sofa that made it through the swinging sixties, the Vietnam war days, the Bonfire of the Vanities 80s…..

to the advent of the internet, through the new millennium, to the destruction of the twin towers and to the age of social media!!!  Whew!!

Do you think it will last another 60 years?  I doubt it.  Surely it won’t be remembered as a blue sofa!  Long live the tiger sofa!!!

from COTE DE TEXAS http://cotedetexas.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-most-famous-sofa-is-no-more.html