#green apt. decor

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Came across another of my faves that sold. Now, this looks like an ordinary, plain, even boring, ranch style home. Built in 2011 in San Angelo, TX, the 6bd, 8ba, 8,017 sq ft home sold for $1.95M.

Enter thru bright green doors. Just by the floor, you can tell it's going to be interesting.

It's a very long gallery with a silver ceiling.

I like this black, white, silver and green decor.

Large open concept room has white walls, but lots of color. Love the tile on the fireplace.

They did do the molding black, but it's tying in with the decor. There's the dining room to the left and the kitchen to the right.

In this corner there's a piano, art, and colorful drapery panels.

This looks like a smaller, intimate dining table.

And, in this open room they have a formal dining area.

The kitchen is shades of teal, turquoise and pale gray. Why paint the cabinets all one color? Interestingly, the kitchen includes a round banquette.

I thought that it was open, but it's not- it has that open wall on the right.

The primary suite is very colorful and very large. It has a whole living room size area.

The fireplace wall is stunning.

The en-suite matches the lime green bedroom.

Plus, there's a large walk-in closet/dressing room.

Cozy family room- isn't that an interesting coffee table?

Half bath with 2 different wallpaper patterns.

The secondary bedroom is huge.

Look at this.

Matching en-suite with a lovely sink and tub.

And, this bedroom also has a walk-in closet/dressing room.

Even this smaller bedroom is a plethora of color.

Look at this. It's like a hotel, indoors. A pool and a balcony. Have you ever seen a pool w/living room furniture around it? And, to the side, there's a kitchen. What an entertaining space.

This home goes on and on. The blue spiral stairs go up to a guest suite.

It's like a studio apt.

The 1.23 acre property is on Lake Nasworthy.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/3601-Country-Club-Rd-San-Angelo-TX-76904/213370516_zpid/?

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Transformation symbolism in My Stand In

Tea

Ming seeks advice about Joe whilst wearing Joe's earthy tones. It is implied Joe is like the tea leaves, which seem dead until you pour water on them, after which they make an aromatic drink. Ming is asked, are the tea leaves - i.e. Joe - dead or alive?

The scene then cuts directly to Joe spreading out a table of food, including leafy greens, and Joe's new mom appearing from the house in a flower and green leaf design dress.

The Kiss (Gustav Klimt)

In keeping with the green and yellow/gold colours of Joe's apartment, at first glance this painting is an apt decorative choice. But it has also been argued that in this picture "Klimt represented the moment Apollo kisses Daphne, following the Metamorphoses of Ovid narrative" - i.e. "Daphne was a nymph who scorned Apollo's advances and ran away from him. When Apollo chased her in order to persuade her, she changed herself into a laurel tree.

Art historians have also suggested that Klimt depicts the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. More specifically, Klimt seems to be showing the exact moment when Orpheus turns around to caress Eurydice and loses his love forever."

Deer

In different mythologies around the world, deer are seen as an object of worship and/or symbolic of transformation. Due to their antlers falling off each year and re-growing, they are also a symbol of regeneration. It is fitting, therefore, that along with the two small paintings of deer in Joe's apartment, Ming has an even larger painting of a deer in his bedroom, in a similar green and gold of Joe's apartment and with Joe's blue.

It's also a neat little detail that the 'changing room' that Joe emerges out of at the end of the photoshoot is a blue, green, and yellow Blackdeer brand tent.

[hayakawalove]

Sweet As Sugar

Description: You had been Satoru’s sugar baby for what felt like forever now, so what were you supposed to do when he left you home alone with nothing to entertain yourself? (PART ONE OF MY “Sugar” SERIES)

TW: Daddy kink, reader is referred to as girl, unprotected sex, spit, alcohol mention, readers kind of annoying and a brat LMAO, exhibitionism, voyeurism, readers referred to as a slut once, cumming inside, major cucking, phone sex

A/N: Thank you to @icepopbucky23 for uttering the words sugar daddy gojo to me and @JuicyT for helping me flesh out ideas on Archive of Our Own and @zeninsama for helping me think of things for this fic! They are all super wonderful people, so please check out their work as well!

Part Two

Part Three

Banner credit to @benkeibear

“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” You complained loudly.

You were sitting on Satoru’s California king size bed, the name very apt. The high thread count sheets underneath the palms of your hands kissed your skin, beckoning you to cozy up with a blanket.

“I’m sure you can find something to do, hm?” Satoru responded as he packed his suitcase.

He was going on a trip for the week. Ever since you started seeing him, you hadn’t spent a week alone. What did he expect you to do while he was gone?

Your eyebrows furrowed up in frustration as you crossed your arms. You complained more since your arrangement with Satoru started, but in a way he was the one enabling it. He couldn’t help but love it when you got riled up. Satoru turned around and smiled at you. Your bottom lip jutted out, making for a kissable pout. He stopped what he was doing and walked up to you, leaning down with his arms on either sides of you, caging you in.

“Why don’t I send your allowance early? That should keep you nice and busy while I’m gone.” He cooed down at you, pinching your cheek.

You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away. Getting your money early would keep your hands full, you thought.

~~~

Except, both of you were wrong. You blew through most of your allowance the first couple of days Satoru was gone. Having spent it on ornate jewelry and purses. You only ever used one at a time, but you bought them just because you could. Your favorite thing you purchased was a black lingerie set. It was silky smooth, save for the lace that decorated it. You knew Satoru was going to absolutely love it, maybe even give you a raise. The mere idea sent giddy thoughts straight to your head. You began to ponder what you would spend the money on. A vacation maybe? That could be fun.

Right as you began thinking about where you would go on your metaphorical trip, your phone rang loudly. It immediately snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned the screen over and saw Satoru’s contact pop up.

“Daddy 💗💸🤩”

You hit the big green button and slid the phone to your ear.

“Hey daddy.” You answered with a smile, turning to lay on your stomach.

“Hey, how’s my princess doing?” He questioned.

Satoru was on a business trip, so you were surprised he had the time to call you.

“I’m good, although I already spent all my allowance.” You pouted while playing with your hair.

“That’s too bad bunny, why don’t you be a good girl for me and take some pretty pictures?”

You smiled devilishly, looking to the high end lingerie brand bag. Sending photos of yourself in that was sure to drive him crazy. He always hated looking but not touching.

You bid farewell to each other before hanging up. Jumping up to your feet you shimmied off your cozy night gown and picked up the bag. It was slightly hard to put on at first, but you were able to figure it out after 10 minutes. The fabric flaunted your favorite parts of your body. It was perfect. You walked over to your full length mirror and posed in it as you took pictures. The make up you wore complemented the lingerie, you could only dream of what Satoru’s reaction would be to these pictures. With a sigh you hit send on his contact. You decided to take a bubble bath as you waited for his response.

You hummed to yourself as your body soaked in the lavish bubble bath. Just as you felt your muscles relax into utter bliss you heard your phone chime. Flipping it over you noticed a notification from Satoru. With a grin you opened it up, already knowing what would greet your eyes. A picture popped up on the screen. One that sent all the heat rushing to between your thighs.

Satoru’s body filled up your screen. He stood in front of the hotel mirror with his shirt pulled up. The fabric was held taut between his lips, lips you so desperately wanted between your legs. Your eyes trailed down the plane of his chest all the way to his waist. In one of his hands he held his cock. By the way it shined you could tell precum was dribbling from the tip. It made your mouth water.

A message popped up below the picture.

See what you do to me bunny?

Your legs squirmed and clenched beneath the now-lukewarm-water. Your fingers traveled below your navel and reached your core. A moan escaped your lips as you began tracing your mound. You could feel the slickness from your heat coating your fingers. The feeling only turned you on even more. However, it wasn’t enough. It never was.

You craved the stretch only Satoru could provide. His lithe fingers, or his wide cock. It didn’t matter to you, but you needed him. Your fingers attempted at pleasuring you, but it only caused further frustration. With a exasperated sigh you texted Satoru back.

It’s looks so good daddy. Wish you were here. I can’t get myself off.

I need cock.

You typed out the messages languidly. There was nothing he could do about it anyway, short of hopping on the next flight. You don’t know why you even bothered.

Your phone chimed as you got a response from Satoru.

Need cock?

Be patient bunny. You’ll get what you need.

The cryptic messages only angered you more. Couldn’t he see that you were suffering without him?

You sat in the bath for another 15 minutes, mind drifting off into a relaxed state. You were half dreaming when you heard the buzzer to your apartment go off.

Your eyebrow quirked up as you shot up in the bath. You weren’t expecting anyone. It was after 9 o clock, so you had no idea what kind of surprise guest it might be.

You hopped out of the bath and grabbed your pink silk robe, tying it loosely around your figure. Your hair dripped cold water around your face, causing a shiver to run up your spine. Looking through the peephole you saw a man, one who couldn’t be much older than you. He had long black hair that was tied up in a bun, and wore semi formal attire. He donned a long sleeved black button up shirt and black pants. He was attractive, you thought.

Alarm bells aside, you decided to open the door.

“Yes?” You asked, peeking your head out.

The man turned his head to look at you face on. He was even more breath taking than you had realized. His eyes were sharp, and he had nice full lips.

“Y/N?” His deep voice rang.

“Satoru sent me. I’m Suguru.”

Your eyes flitted down then back up, assessing his body language. He came off as nonthreatening, but your guard was still up. Before you could further question him, Suguru pulled out his sleek phone and pressed a couple of buttons before handing it to you. Satoru’s name was shown on the screen as it appeared to be ringing him.

“Hey man, what’s up? Did you find her place okay?” You heard Satoru speak from the other end.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. He really had sent this stranger to your house. But why?

“Satoru, why did you send this…guy to my house?” You spoke in a hushed tone into the phone, turning your head slightly to give you privacy. Suguru just watched with an amused glint in his eye.

“Aw bunny, you said you needed me right? Well I can’t be there right now, so I sent you the next best thing.”

“What’re you even talking about?”

“You want to be fucked don’t you?”

Goosebumps crawled over your skin. That was true, but you meant by Satoru, not a stranger.

“How does $5000 sound?” Satoru asked, noting your silence.

You raised your eyebrows at the amount. He was going to pay you to have sex with his friend?

“That sounds good daddy.” You murmured, playing with your hair.

The more you looked at the man, the more attractive he became. He had a similar build to Satoru, but where Satoru’s features and energy were light, this man felt dark and mysterious.

“Just record the whole thing and send it to me afterward, how does that sound princess?”

You nodded even though Satoru couldn’t see you.

“That’s my girl.” He said before hanging up.

Your cheeks flushed as you handed Suguru’s phone back. He took it from your hand and slid it in his pocket. Without another word you silently stepped to the side, allowing him entrance into your apartment. Suguru looked down at you, grinning and running his tongue along the side of his teeth. A shiver ran up your body as he passed you. His cologne instantly filled your nose. It was a faint spicey scent that made your knees weak.

After he entered your apartment, you closed the door behind him. Nerves were beginning to rumble in your stomach. You hadn’t had sex with someone besides Satoru in two years. Suguru walked in and surveyed the place, choosing to lean against your table. You cleared your throat trying to shake your nerves.

“What’s your drink of choice?” You asked him, making your way to the kitchen.

“Whiskey.” He called out.

Luckily for you, Satoru had gotten you an expensive bottle a couple of weeks ago. It had sat in your cabinet untouched the entire time. You never felt like it was a good time to open it, but you figured now was as good as any.

You cracked the lid open and grabbed a cup for him. The amber liquid poured into the glass, sloshing around as you walked to Suguru. He took it from you and tipped his head back, downing the liquid in one gulp. He maintained eye contact the entire time.

You fiddled with your fingers, anxiety coursing through your blood.

“Um, follow me?” Your voice shook slightly.

You led him to your bedroom. It seemed like he was letting you take the lead in conversation and pace.

Once you got to the room you grabbed your phone and slid open the camera, hitting record. Your eyes slid over to your dresser, finding a good place to set it down in order to film what was about to happen. You bit your lip and turned around, walking to your bed and stopping short in front of it, sliding your robe off. You subconsciously held your breath, your gaze sliding away from him. You were so nervous you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“How should we, um.” You mumbled.

From the corner of your eye you saw Suguru’s eyes gaze around your body. Everytime Satoru fucked you, he didn’t know where to look. He wanted to see it all. But Suguru was taking his time, carefully assessing each inch of your exposed skin. You couldn’t tell if it made you feel sexy or self conscious.

Suguru hummed at you before taking a large step forward. You quickly snapped your head up to look at him and he grinned softly. The room was silent, save for your pounding heartbeat, which you were almost positive he could hear.

“Tell me if you want to stop, yeah?” He spoke quietly.

You nodded. Suguru’s eyes became hazy as he leaned down and tipped your chin up with his forefinger. He pressed his lips against yours. You moaned into the kiss and grabbed onto him, all your worries suddenly dissolving. There was only desire now. His tongue glided against your bottom lip, quickly parting your mouth. All thoughts from your mind became muddied as you felt him pull your naked body close against him. There was something so thrilling about being completely undressed while he wasn’t. His teeth smoothed over your lip making you moan out again.

Suguru walked you backwards until the back of your knees hit your bed. Your hands instinctively clutched his arms to stabilize you, and you felt him smirk against your lips. He began unbuttoning his shirt while you clumsily fumbled with the buttons on his pants. In a matter of seconds you felt his bare body against yours, his clothes haphazardly thrown about your room. His skin felt hot to the touch as he grabbed your waist and helped you sit down. Once he laid you down, his hands trapped you against the bed. His lips traced the sensitive skin on your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Whimpers tumbled out of your mouth, ones you couldn’t decipher. He seemed to understand just what you needed.

Suguru sat next to your bed and dragged you down by your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. The movement jolted you, making you squeak out. He grinned and spread your lower lips with his pointer and middle finger, putting you on full display for him.

“Satoru was right, you really are pretty.” He mumbled before diving in.

His tongue made contact with your clit first, the sensation sending electricity through your veins. A loud moan erupted from your throat as his lips wrapped around your nub and began to suck. His tongue felt like heaven between your thighs, quickly lapping up your wetness only to create more. He slid his muscle into your aching hole and moaned at your taste. At the rate he was going, you weren’t sure how long you were going to last. Your hips began bucking against his lips, desperate for any sort of friction. Pleas fell on deaf ears. You begged him to keep going, and you begged him to stop. You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore. It felt good. Too good. It felt like you were going to burst at the seams. You were sure you were going to.

Suguru’s dark eyes flicked up to you, enjoying your reactions. He could tell you were inching closer to bliss, and what he wouldn’t give to see that happen.

“Come on pretty girl, give it to me.” He mumbled against your velvety skin.

You felt your stomach tighten and your core contract before you came. Your back arched as you rode out your high on his tongue. It felt like your nerves were on fire.

Your ears rang as you settled back down, breathing hard and looking up at the ceiling. Suguru was giving his best friend a run for his money. Both men were incredibly good at using their tongues, you could only imagine how good Suguru’s cock would be.

Black hair came into view as he loomed over you. His eyes dazzled as he watched your post bliss.

“Wanna taste how sweet you are?” He asked rhetorically.

Before you could respond, Suguru’s hand reached up and squished your cheeks, parting your mouth. A glob of spit escaped his lips and fell against yours. You quickly drank it like it was liquid gold. The salty taste of your cum mixed with his spit made your head spin. Your eyes silently begged for more and Suguru caved. His lips smashed against yours, taking the breath straight from your lungs. You didn’t care. You didn’t need it anymore. All you needed was him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down, desperate for more contact. He obliged and closed the gap, pressing his bare chest against yours. Suguru’s tongue slid against yours. He pulled away, a string of spit connecting your lust bitten lips.

You placed your hands on his bare chest, pushing him away from you slowly. Suguru raised a brow at you and stood up between your legs. You stared up at him as you sat up, face inches away from his hard cock. The tip was flushed pink, with beads of precum leaking from it.

You stuck out your tongue, licking the underside of his cock as it pressed against his stomach. Suguru shuddered in response. Your tongue traced the sensitive veins, memorizing the shape. You wanted to make him feel just as good as he made you feel. You traced all the way up until you reached the tip, which you eagerly took into your mouth. Suguru sharply inhaled as your warm mouth greeted his cock. It filled your mouth nicely, quickly hitting the back of your throat. It elicited a gag from you, spit dribbling down your chin. He raised one of his hands, gently placing it on your head. He helped guide you back and forth along his cock. Salty precum landed on your tastebuds, making you moan around his cock. You could stay here forever if you wanted to, but it seemed as though Suguru had other plans.

He pulled your head back, watching as a string of spit snapped back disconnecting yourself from him. His hooded hazy eyes penetrated into you as he helped crawl you back further onto the bed.

Suguru’s large frame towered over you as you lay beneath him on the bed. His cock nudged between your folds, sending a tingle down your spine. His cock began to slide back and forth between your folds. Everytime it caught on your clit you moaned into his mouth. The sound only encouraged him more. Angry red marks dotted his smooth skin as you dug your nails dug into him. Wetness coated his cock making it easier to slide against you.

Raw, you were going to fuck him raw. And the idea only excited you.

Here was this man you had met less than an hour ago, pressing his hard cock against your most intimate area.

The head of his cock parted you, splitting you open as he carefully slid inside. Your mouth dropped open at the sensation. Suguru looked up at your face as he breathed hard. He could feel your muscles squeezing around his cock. If he wasn’t careful he would cum any second.

As Suguru pushed his cock into you completely you threw your head back. He filled you up in a different way than Satoru. Not better or worse, but different. Tears pricked your eyes from the pleasure, moaning out. Suguru looked down and saw how wrecked you looked, and he hadn’t even gotten started.

“I understand what Satoru sees in you.” He said with a grunt, holding your thighs tight as he thrusted in and out.

You withered below him. All your senses felt heightened. Before you could comprehend what was happening, Suguru shoved his phone in your face. You heard a couple of rings before Satoru’s voice carried over the line.

“Bunny?” He asked, as if he was expecting it to be you.

You couldn’t speak, only moans escaped your mouth.

“I see you got to work, are you being a good girl and filming?”

“Y-Yes! Oh god.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you correctly.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Y-Yes daddy! I’m being a good girl, your good girl.” You babbled as Suguru fucked into you harder.

“Hmm, good. How does it feel?” Satoru asked.

“Good, so good.” You chanted, squeezing your eyes shut.

You felt Suguru deep inside your walls, each thrust sending a wave of euphoria over you.

“That’s good princess. Now, I want you to open your eyes and look at him while he fucks you. Think you can do that for me?”

Your eyes pried open to gaze at the man above you. His hair was much messier with bangs sticking to his forehead. He licked his lips while you stared at him.

“Say my name. Let him know who you belong to.” Satoru egged on.

Your eyebrows scrunched up. You knew better than to disobey him though.

“S-Satoru! Belong to Satoru! Holy shit, don’t stop please don’t stop!” You cried out.

Suguru’s face hardened as he pounded into you.

You could feel him as he dragged against your plush walls, stretching you to the brim. His pelvis grinded against your clit each time he pressed into you, only adding to the ecstasy. Thoughts of the camera completely escaped your mind as you only focused on what you were feeling and what was in front of you. You could hardly think, your mind shattering at how good it felt.

“Oh fuck I think I’m gonna-” you moaned.

Suguru wrapped a hand around the back of your head and held onto your hair, tilting your head forward forcing you to look down at where his hips met yours.

“Ask daddy.” Satoru spoke.

Your legs shook around Suguru. It was getting hard to hold the phone and focus.

“Please daddy let me cum, I’m gonna cum. Please daddy!” You squealed.

Satoru let out a deep laugh.

“Cum for me bunny, cum on his cock.”

You felt the dam break, your muscles clenching and unclenching against his sin. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you dripped in pleasure. Suguru let out a strangled grunt as he felt you cum on him. The sound shot straight to your pussy, immediately beginning to tingle again.

“Shit, so f-fucking tight.” Suguru cussed under his breath.

His eyebrows bunched up in concentration as he slammed harder into you. Sensitive, it all felt too sensitive. You squealed out in retaliation, or desperation, you didn’t know.

His cock drove in and out of you fast, leaving you no space to think. Satoru was still on the line listening to everything unfold. The idea sent shivers down your spine. You turned your head to look at your propped up phone, knowing it was recording every single thing that happened. Your lips parted as your mouth dropped open. Suguru was hitting some deep part inside of you that made your toes curl.

You continued to make eye contact with the camera, knowing Satoru loved when you looked at him. Suguru’s hand reached up as he nudged your face to look back at him. You were met with obsidian black eyes as he penetrated you.

“Look at me.” He whispered.

In that moment, you knew this wasn’t for the camera. You knew he wasn’t even thinking about putting on a show for his best friend. In that moment, he wanted you for himself. He stuffed his middle and ring finger into your mouth, effectively gagging you. Satoru’s fingers were longer, but Suguru’s were much, much thicker. Salvia began to pool around his digits as you choked, tears quickly filling your eyes.

“That’s it, good girl.” Suguru mumbled, tipping his head back, looking down his nose at you.

You felt so utterly full on both ends. You didn’t know where you ended and where he began. Everytime you felt like you could breathe around his fingers, he shoved them deeper down your throat. You let out a whine, one which became distorted around the thick fingers.

Suguru’s breathing became quicker and more labored, you could tell he was close. Your eyes looked up at his, begging silently for him to cum. He groaned out as heat spread through his body. Spurts of cum shot out, immediately filling you to the brim.

You breathed out heavily as Suguru slowly removed his fingers that were drenched in your spit. He maintained eye contact with you as he stuck out his tongue and trailed it along his fingers, licking up your saliva. The sight made you dizzy.

“That sounded like you had fun. Where did you cum Suguru?” Satoru’s voice broke the tense silence.

The two of you stared at each other as his cum began to leak from your hole, even though it was still plugged with his cock.

You weren’t sure if him cumming inside of you was part of the deal, but it was too late now.

“I think I have an idea.” Satoru chuckled, taking your silence as answer enough.

“I’ll send the funds over tonight Y/N. You did good.” Satoru spoke softly over Suguru’s phone.

Your cheeks heated up in pride. You always liked hearing his praise.

You passed the phone over to Suguru who grabbed it, carefully pulling his cock out of you.

The two of you hissed at the feeling. You immediately felt empty once more, craving the stretch again.

“So, where’s my reward Satoru?” Suguru asked cheekily, his eyes lingering on your leaking core.

“What, was cumming in her not enough?” Satoru responded with a light laugh.

Suguru rolled his eyes and ended the call with Satoru. He bent over and began pulling his clothes over his body, signaling the end of the night. You couldn’t stop staring at his body. It was slick with a light sheen of sweat. How had you never seen this man before? You were beginning to feel grateful towards Satoru for giving you this opportunity.

Once finished with getting dressed, Suguru walked over and leaned down to pick up your phone. He flipped it around, camera facing you and walked up to the bed.

Suguru looked into the screen and leaned down, zooming in on your pussy. Streaks of white dripped out, sliding over your skin. His eyes trailed over your body. A hint of longing passed over his face. He ended the recording and smiled as he handed over your phone.

“I can see myself out. You shouldn’t get up too soon.” Suguru said smoothly.

You nodded, at a loss for words. He dipped his head down once before exiting your room, and out your front door. It felt like everything had been a dream, ending before you could even comprehend the situation. A shaky breath escaped your mouth as you sunk down further into your bed.

~~~

You were nestled up in your plush blankets, the events of the night replaying in your mind. Your heart still pounded in your ears. You grabbed your phone and flipped through your camera roll, finger hovering over the video. Once you clicked on it, it began playing. Obscene noises filtered through your phone speaker causing your face to heat up. Satoru wanted this?

An alert pinged on your screen.

It was a phone call from Satoru. You cleared your throat and paused the video, clicking the green button.

“Hello?” You asked.

You could hear Satoru’s voice on the line. It was laced with exhaustion, with a hint of something else.

“I wanted to call before you went to sleep. How are you feeling?” He sighed out.

The two of you began talking about your day. One of your favorite things about Satoru was how easy he was to talk to. You really enjoyed his company. Your eyelids began feeling heavy, but then the conversation turned over to what happened with Suguru.

“How do you feel about it?”

Heat rushed to your core at the memory being brought up again. You liked Satoru more, but you couldn’t deny how it felt.

“It was good. Really good.” Your voice stuttered out.

You could hear Satoru chuckle on the other end. His reaction only raised your body temperature.

“Good, I watched it earlier. You looked…” Satoru drawled out. You heard him let out a deep content sigh. You couldn’t see it, but he was fumbling with his pants.

You squeezed your legs together as you began to feel throbbing between your thighs.

“Wish you were here daddy.” You mumbled.

“Oh? You truly are insatiable bunny. You still need more?”

You whimpered back.

“Go on and touch for daddy.”

The sentence alone almost made you moan. You held the phone as you shimmied your shorts down. You could still feel Suguru’s essence leaking from you.

Your fingers dragged their way to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You began circling it, feeling pleasure course through you.

You couldn’t help but moan. Satoru listened intently as he pulled his cock out, precum already coating the tip. Although he chided you for it, Satoru was just as insatiable as you. He already came to the video earlier. It was the hardest he had cum in a long time. So hard he had to lay there for 10 minutes until he could feel his body again. But it somehow it still wasn’t enough. He began pumping his cock as he listened to your moans.

“Feels so good daddy.” You sighed.

Satoru smiled as he stroked his cock. Images of the video flashed through his mind, particularly one scene.

“Suguru came in you, didnt he?” He questioned.

Your gut tightened at the question. He did, and Satoru knew it.

“Yes.”

Your fingers sped up as they danced along your clit.

“Smear it around baby.” Satoru ordered.

Your face flushed. You reached down to your aching hole and dipped your fingers inside, scooping out the remainder of Suguru’s cum. The feeling made you gasp out, as you rubbed the cum on your clit. The sensation made everything more wet and hot. You were using another man’s cum as lube while you listened to Satoru, and that turned you on even more.

“I’m not there to spit on it so we’ll have to make do.” Satoru groaned.

The image of his best friends cum painting your clit shot waves of pleasure through his body. He wondered how it looked, how it felt.

“Tell me bunny, who were you thinking about when he fucked you?” He questioned.

You moaned out, heat creeping up in your cheeks.

“You daddy, always you.”

Satoru chuckled and sucked in a deep breath.

“Come on baby, tell daddy the truth. Were you thinking about him? Were you thinking about Suguru?”

Your mouth dropped open, your fingers speeding up.

“Daddy he looked so good, he felt so good. Are you mad? I thought about you too, but he-” You groaned.

“You’re so naughty bunny.” Satoru lowered his voice.

“I’ll make it up to you, I’ll give you anything you want. Please don’t be mad.” You cried out, inching closer to your much needed release.

“Such a good little girl. I’m not mad baby.”

Your fingers sped up as they rubbed your clit. You knew you wouldn’t last long, especially with the way Satoru sounded.

“Go on, tell me how it felt to fuck him.” Satoru’s voice hitched.

“So good daddy. I felt so full of him. Stretched me so good. When he came inside I-” You blabbered, feeling your core tighten.

“Yeah? My good little slut. How’d it feel to have another man fill you up nice and full?” He groaned as more precum spilled from his tip.

You whimpered in response, your body overheating. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“So so nice daddy. Want him over again. Please daddy, can he come over again? Want him to fill me up while you watch.” You begged.

Satoru swore in response. His body shuttered at the thought. He could imagine you on your hands and knees in front of him as his best friend took you from the behind. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure as Suguru’s cum filled you up once more. He imagined painting your face with his cum while you were coming down from your high.

That image was all Satoru needed to send him over the edge. His cum shot in spurts all over his hand and lap, so much so that he knew the only way to clean up would be to change all of his clothes and the sheets.

“Yes, yes bunny we can do that.” He breathed out.

Hearing Satoru moan was like music to your ears. As he breathed hard you felt your body contract before sending you off into bliss. Electricity filled your body as you moaned out. As you came you felt Suguru’s cum seep down your slit and out of your pussy, coating you in it.

Your and Satoru’s heavy breathing sounded like a chorus. You never wanted this feeling to end, but luckily you knew for certain it would come again once Satoru came home.

As your thoughts drifted off and your eyes began to feel heavy, you heard your phone chime.

$5000 deposited into your bank account.

“For all your hard work today.” Satoru said with a smile.

[space-writes]

OC explain tag

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, thank you! he’s been on my mind a lot lately, so I’ll do this for my favourite assassin, Vren.

Rules: Pick an OC and post a song you relate to them, an image that represents them in some way (aesthetic, picrew, art, etc), and a quote of dialogue or narration from them. Totally feel free to expand and explain!

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

Song - Lonely is the Muse - Halsey

But I was built from special pieces that I learned how to unscrew, And I can always reassemble to fit perfectly for you, Or anybody that decides that I'm of use.

a recent addition to Vren’s playlist, but I cannot stop thinking about how much it fits him. he's not a man he's a weapon that can be broken down and sent where it needs to be and used over and over and if he stops being that then he's....?

[ID - a moodboard of nine squares, featuring various dark or earth-toned images, including bloody hands, a swirl of smoke, and daggers.]

Quote

Only once before had he stood before this door. He had entered it a man and emerged, a year later, as a blood-drenched ghost. The moniker his shadows had granted him grew tall in that year, well-fed on slit throats and terror.

not a spoken quote, but the Wraith is a man of few words, so this seemed a bit more apt. a man goes into the country of his enemy and kills from the shadows, alone, for a year. when he comes back, he's a ghost. when he comes back, he's still a man.

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

tags & taglist under the cut!

no-pressure tagging @eccaiia @loopyhoopywrites @ustalav and @thegreatobsesso

Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @reininginthefirewriting @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist

@at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph

@sam-glade @viscerawrites @thegreatobsesso @flower-reads (ask to be +/-)

[asimplearchivist]

𝓒𝓗. 𝓥𝓘 — [𓎿𓇋𓇋𓏏] (‘𝓗𝓼𝔂𝓽’ | 𝓯𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓭)

𝐂𝐇. 𝐕𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ khonshu indulges you. (only because you annoy him, of course—not for any other reason.) pairing ☽ khonshu/singlemom!avatar!reader word count ☾ 6.3k a/n ☽ [header credit] ⤏ this took far longer than it should have to churn this out, but writer’s block is a bitch and my muse is nothing if capricious. I swear I’m still working on this fic little by little, but it’s mostly in the later parts. hopefully the plot will start to progress a little faster now that we’re out of the first year. (I don’t know how this ended up being a christmas/new year’s chapter, but…here we are. it’s a little early but c’est la vie—happy holidays to those who celebrate!) ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

The holidays were in full swing as winter snuck into London like a thief. Seemingly overnight, decorations crept up like invasive vegetation to suffocate the city in green, red, and white decorations. Khonshu was bemused by the practice, if nothing else—but what about humanity didn’t perplex him?

True to your word, your schedule grew more complicated as the air grew colder. You were running more tired than ever before, and he did his best to direct you to wrongdoers who wouldn’t put up much of a challenge to your ever-improving skills and reflexes. You’d grown quite adept at defending yourself by then, relying more on instinct than memorization. The local police stations were abuzz with the new active vigilante roaming around at night, and the newspapers were referring to you as impossibly foolish names.

In what world did ‘The Mooner’ seem like an apt title?

You found it amusing, if nothing else, watching the evening news with Lizzie and casting Khonshu a smirk while he brooded in the corner whenever a small blurb would pop up about the latest criminals you’d apprehended—you’d remarked to him once that you wondered if the attention would get you an invitation to join the Avengers…or at least get an introduction.

“That Thor guy would probably get a kick out of you still hanging around, huh?” you’d teased. “Did you guys used to be drinking buddies back in the day?”

“The Asgardians are reveling warriors fattened on their successes,” he’d responded dryly. “You would appreciate their laxness as much as their debauchery.”

“Sounds like someone never got invited to the pantheon orgies. You’re just jealous of the Fabio hair, aren’t you? I bet he doesn’t even use any product, what with all his…divine genetics, or whatever.”

Khonshu was not jealous of another god, only of your attentions. He had to admit that to himself, now, because it was becoming unignorable.

He could scarcely stand to separate himself from you anymore, too addicted to your presence to stray very far, even in the daylight hours. It was difficult to maintain his vigil over the opposite side of the world when it was plunged into night, but he managed it. It wasn’t as if you could patrol the entire earth to apprehend every last wrongdoer, anyway—not with Ru becoming more active with every passing week.

The boy was nearing half a year old, and he was more vocal than ever. Khonshu was bemused by the litany of squealing and babbling that you treated as full conversations, speaking to him as if he understood completely. Khonshu had grown more accustomed to handling him, as well, even if the babe did everything in his limited power to shove the god’s fingers into his investigative mouth. He found it more amusing than annoying, although he did try to keep an eye on the boy while he exercised in ‘tummy time’ just to make sure he didn’t ingest something that would harm him.

Even though you hadn’t informed Khonshu of such, it seemed that the ‘Christmas spirit’ had infected you thoroughly. You’d been brimming with excitement, shopping in your off-time for decor, special groceries, and gifts in preparation for the momentous holiday. The television stayed on most of the day, playing those horrendous, formulaic romantic comedies that made him want to gag at their saccharine plot lines and mediocre acting, and in the evenings the radio crooned songs older than you (they were far more tolerable, much to his relief). You cooked and baked almost constantly, pleasant aromas saturating the rooms with sweet and hearty spices. The apartment was soon littered with festive memorabilia, and before he knew it there was a live tree set up in the corner of the living room.

“Come on, Big Bird—dealing with humans all these years hasn’t clued you into Christmas?”

Considering the contentious and hypocritical origins of the holiday, I haven’t given it too much consideration, he said wryly. There are so many different ones now that I don’t bother to keep up.

“You’re missing out,” you beamed up at him through the branches, glittering red garland wrapped around your arms as you wedged yourself between the boughs and the wall to reach the back of the tree. “There are so many good foods and family traditions and old memories that go with it!”

It is mass-marketed and materialistic, he responded, reaching out with the end of his staff to free you from entanglement.

“If you let it be just about presents, then it is,” you told him sternly, wiggling free and adjusting the strand to your satisfaction before repeating the process in a tapered spiral. “But it’s about connection, to me—friends and family being together and enjoying the festivities.”

Then why are you not with your family? Khonshu questioned before he could think it through.

You paused, expression pinching, but continued to futz with the arrangement. “…I couldn’t get everything together,” you replied quietly, “what with the shift schedules and all that. They’ll understand. We can try again next year.”

It was none of Khonshu’s business, he knew. Normally he wouldn’t rightly care about the inherent complexities of your interactions with your family—but only if he hadn’t known you for as long as he had, even if you were still unaware of it. He had witnessed your life change irreparably in the last year, had even lended a hand in it. A brief brush over your consciousness confirmed his suspicions—the shame of your self-perceived failures overpowered the guilt of not meeting their expectations. You hadn’t gone home since the divorce, and you had barely afforded them the occasional phone call to assure them that you (and Ru) were doing all right despite your circumstances. They had only seen Ru through a camera.

In some (somewhat selfish) ways, Khonshu was glad that you had remained fixed in London, remaining with Lizzie. It meant that he wouldn’t risk losing you as his Moon Knight prematurely. It meant that he didn’t have to share the pair of you with anyone other than your best friend and your coworkers. It meant that he could have you (mostly) to himself—and he was uncertain of what you would think of that.

Ru is still very young, he said finally, lowering his voice and glancing towards the child sprawled on the floor mat asleep.

“…Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed, expression easing slightly. “It wouldn’t really be good for him to fly right now, anyway. It’ll be easier when he’s a little older.”

Khonshu nodded, and you fastened the end of the garland near the tip of the tree. You can barely reach the top.

“Which is precisely why serving a nine-foot eldritch horror is so advantageous,” you remarked, stepping over to the couch and rummaging through the assortment of boxes you had pulled out of storage for this express purpose. You turned back to him brandishing a diaphanous, crystalline star cradled in your hands. You smiled sweetly. “Would you do the honors?”

You are insufferable, Khonshu grumbled, plucking the ornament out of your hands and extending his arm to place it on the uppermost point. There. Happy?

You squinted and tilted your head slightly. “It’s a little lopsided.” You waved your hand to one side. “Just a little to the left.”

Khonshu readjusted it.

“Better. Thank you!” you chirped, grabbing a bundle of lights that looked tangled worse than Apep’s tail used to after the barque’s guardians got through with him at the end of the night. “Can you help me with the lights, too?”

Ru stirred and grumbled at the most opportune moment. 

Khonshu scooped him up from the floor and tucked him into the crook of his arm. He’s hungry.

You frowned at him. “How do you even know?”

His forehead wrinkled, Khonshu responded simply, moving over to the kitchen to fetch a bottle from the fridge.

“I’m trying to let him cry a little more,” you complained to the god’s back. “You’re not supposed to cater to them too much, you know.”

And you’re taking aspirin to combat the headaches it causes. Khonshu popped the nipple into the babe’s mouth before Ru even fully realized what was going on—but his body relaxing as his contented hums filled the relative silence of the apartment were confirmation enough. Khonshu didn’t feel he should tell you that he had felt Ru’s stomach pangs even before he’d awoken. Continue your decorating. I’ll tend to him.

“You’ve been doing that a lot more recently,” you pointed out, bemused. “Are you trying to weasel your way into being his favorite?”

Khonshu shook his head and sat on the narrow expanse of the couch that was not occupied by your collection of shiny bobbles. No need to ‘weasel’ my way in when I already am his favorite.

“Keep that up and I’ll have to kick you out, Granddaddy Long Beak—then what’ll you do?”

Enjoy the blissful peace and quiet.

You flung a chromatic red sphere at him. It bounced harmlessly off his arm and rolled onto the rug. “All the things I do for you and this is the thanks I get.”

I am keeping my end of our agreement, he reminded you, propping Ru up briefly to emphasize his point, so we are even.

“You’re turning my own son against me.”

I am doing no such thing.

“Look at him. He never looks that happy when I feed him.”

Perhaps he prefers my methods.

“God, you’d think you were his father,” you grumbled.

Khonshu stiffened, but you continued to gather ornaments to hang on the tree, completely oblivious to the fact that he had been perfectly capable of hearing you.

True to his word, he gave you ample space to celebrate your holiday. 

He spent the time that he would normally occupy directing you under the moonlight tending to the things that he had been neglecting. He patrolled the areas, groups, and individuals he had previously been keeping an eye on to glean updates on the potential threats they could pose in the future. He returned to the temples, sanctuaries, and shrines dedicated to him that he hadn’t seen in weeks. He visited the few followers that still prayed to him to make sure they were doing well.

It was a remarkably quiet, lonely affair.

He found that he…missed your company more than he’d anticipated—and he’d left you and Ru only a handful of hours prior when Lizzie had returned home from work. You’d been dressed in an atrociously ugly sweater that Khonshu could only imagine itched like an infestation of lice, flitting about the kitchen preparing your evening meal while singing along to the music blasting from your phone. Your eyes had been sparkling, a smile tugging at your mouth even while you weren’t speaking or focusing on him entertaining Ru in the living room. The child-like delight feeding your enthusiasm was…infectious, admittedly. He’d almost gotten one of the songs stuck in his head.

He couldn’t force the sight of you out of his head—he hadn’t seen you that happy in months…since you’d given birth to Ru, really. Your joy was a precious, ethereal thing that he cherished, having the privilege to witness it firsthand.

That man truly didn’t know what priceless treasure he’d discarded so uncaringly.

Khonshu considered himself lucky that you allowed him so close, that you treated him kindly despite his shortcomings, that you made room for him in your comparatively inconsequential, fleeting life that would end in a blink when he would persist for centuries afterward…that you, without question, gave him a place to participate in Badru’s life when he had offered it.

Would you still be so open if you knew his total truth? Or would you reject him and leave him to wander aimlessly, isolated, on his nightly, restless vigil once more?

…Khonshu did not want to taint the secondhand fulfillment that coursed through him via his connection to you with his tortuous ruminations. The warm, tingly feelings that had bubbled up inside of you all day almost satisfied his hunger, and he was basking in the relief it brought.

Well after midnight he decided to check on you—only because he had seen Lizzie pull out a bottle of wine and he wanted to ensure that you hadn’t overdone it, of course. While the pair of you were far more responsible than other people your age, he wanted to make sure that the boy wasn’t giving you any trouble.

Khonshu slipped into the mortal plane as surreptitiously as he could manage, easing into the shadows of the apartment once more and taking in the state of the living room.

All the lights were turned off save the strands decorating the tree, glowing a soft amber against the wall and floor. You and Lizzie were laying adjacent to each other on the couch—you propped up with numerous pillows to afford Ru proper elevation on your chest, whereas Lizzie’s head dangled off the armrest—with blankets piled over yourselves. Dirty mugs and plates littered the coffee table, and there were three gifts already unwrapped—one for each of you.

Khonshu eased closer, moving silently across the floor with the music still playing quietly from the speakers helping to muffle the susurration of his gauze wrappings. He loomed over your end of the couch, peering down the length of his beak at the serenity of your face in the warm lighting. He clenched his fist to resist the urge to brush the backs of his fingers along the supple curve of your cheek—he didn’t want to risk waking you.

Ru stirred and grunted a little, and even in your sleep your hand smoothed over his back to soothe him. The babe settled, stilled, and snuffled in contentment.

Khonshu dismissed the odd, liquefying feeling in his chest in favor of easing back. He was about to step back into the astral realm when his eye caught on the television stand next to the tree. A glass of milk and a plate of cookies set on the corner. It seemed wasteful to him, but Khonshu still mosied over to inspect the arrangement.

White chocolate and macadamia, he surmised, based on the confections’ appearance. Khonshu glanced at you again over his shoulder, fingers tightening around his staff. You and the child remained motionless and oblivious to his presence.

He let out a soft sigh, shoulders relaxing, and tentatively reached out to the plate.

“Did you enjoy the cookies?”

Khonshu readjusted his grip on his staff. What are you talking about?

“If you’d wanted to play it off like Santa came and ate them, you didn’t need to take all of them. You’re supposed to leave one with a bite out of it.”

The god of the moon twisted to parry your quick swipe at his flank. The blow reverberated through the ancient, enchanted wood up into his arms. He absorbed it without trouble, but he did shuffle half a step back to pull himself from your range. Elizabeth ate them.

You laughed, then, a cheery, chirping sound that sang in his hollow skull. “She’s allergic to macadamia nuts, genius!”

He retaliated with a low sweep, aiming for your knees. You leapt, pulled them up, and landed within your arm’s length of him. You lunged for his exposed abdomen, and he almost failed to block it in time.

You’re allowing yourself to get distracted, he gruffed, shoving you back to give himself some room. Concentrate.

“I’m just trying to hold a conversation and you’re being defensive,” you grinned, dancing effortlessly around his thrust to smack the flat of your khopesh against his extended forearm. “If you’ll answer my question, I’ll stop talking.”

You are supposed to be proving that you’re capable of being taught higher combat, he groused, finally managing to thump your shoulder with the haft. Not interrogating me about an accused petty thievery.

You grunted and dropped quickly to launch yourself at his leg. He knocked you away, sending you sprawling onto the rooftop with a groan. He drove the end of the staff down towards your armored chest, but you rolled to the side and scrambled onto your feet to face him.

You were hardly winded despite the fact that he’d been pushing your limits for the better part of ten minutes—it was a marked improvement compared to when you had first started, to say the very least. He would never admit to you, much less out loud, but he was pleased with your progress. He was…proud of how far you’d come. Soon he would have no more additional skills and techniques to offer you, as you’d taken them all in stride in spite of your initial struggles with fighting in general.

You still had room to surprise him, however—much to the delight of the small part of him that enjoyed engaging you in such a physical manner.

In a quick motion you flung one of the khopeshes directly at him. He deflected it easily, but you were light on your feet and reached him before he could react. You sliced fiercely at his hands, causing him to raise his staff over your head, then pressed the end of the blade to the polished crescent ornamenting his chest.

“Checkmate?” you inquired, the pectoral rising and falling upon your torso as your breath billowed out in plumes of mist shortly stolen by the wind.

You’d forgone the mask to enjoy the brisk night air but had the hood drawn over your head, and your skin was glimmering in the moonlight with a fine sheen of sweat. Your complexion was darkened with the exertion—a far more becoming look on you that he could ever allow himself to entertain.

His…interest in you was growing out of hand—yet he could not bring himself to stifle it, for he enjoyed it far beyond what would ever be considered appropriate for a deity of his standing and background.

But how could he think you appeared anything but breathtaking while wearing his armor, brandishing his weapons, bathed in his mercurial, sacred light like you had been handcrafted by artisans from its silvery beams?

Yes, he acquiesced, leaning back and bracing himself once he returned the staff upright. You’ve improved. I’ll show you more of a challenge next time, since you’re confident.

Your eyes lit up with your smile, and his fingers bit into the grain. “I think I might be close to having you beat, Big Bird. You’re moving awfully slow tonight—is the cold getting to those old, creaky bones?”

He cuffed you around the ear and you chuckled, slapping at his hand. You covered much ground tonight. I think you are owed some rest.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me whether you liked my cookies or not.” You propped your hands on your hips, canting them to one side as you tilted your head. “Yes or no?”

You are fortunate that I possess as much patience as I do, he rumbled, turning and walking over to the edge of the roof. Else I would have been rid of you months ago.

“Blah, blah, blah, you’re secretly a big softy and can’t admit to it, whatever—I need to know so I can adjust the recipe or not, smartass, or to try something different altogether.”

Khonshu paused, turning his head to gaze at you out of the corner of his periphery. You intend on inundating me with baked goods to relax my expectations?

“I am trying to be nice and to return the favor for some of the things you’ve done for me,” you corrected him, pouting all the while. “Consider it an…offering, of sorts, I guess. I’m not really the ‘candles and incense’ type of person.” You shrugged. “I figured there’s not a whole lot else I could possibly offer you in gratitude, given that…you know, you probably have everything you've ever wanted, being a god and all.”

If only you knew.

Khonshu let out a long, heavy sigh. …Yes.

You raised a brow “‘Yes,’ you have everything you’ve ever wanted?”

Yes, he gritted out, the cookies were…sufficient.

“Only ‘sufficient’?” you questioned dubiously. “Jeez. Did I oversalt them or something, or do you just not like white chocolate? Should I try oatmeal raisin next time or—”

For the love of…I enjoyed them. They tasted fine. You are not required to repeat the venture at your expense.

“But I like baking,” you returned, but you were smiling again. “...Now are you going to tell me how in the hell you eat or are you just lying to me to get me to shut up?”

Khonshu uttered a string of Kemetic before dropping his head and retreating to the astral realm, snapping his fingers to send you back to your bedroom. Your laughter echoed around him in the brimming, exponential space.

“You could always go with me, you know.”

Khonshu would have frowned at you if he could have. What?

You gestured to him with your makeup brush, his form contorted to sit on the closed toilet next to you. He still loomed over you. “You’re pouting. All you have to do is ask if you want to go with me.”

What makes you think I would want to participate in your superfluous little party? he sneered, his skin prickling uncomfortably beneath his bandages.

You shrugged. “Call it a hunch. You’ve been glued to my side all evening. I don’t think you were even looking for a free show.”

Khonshu had to admit you were correct on that front, at least. As soon as you’d emerged from your shower to rummage through your closet for your chosen outfit, he’d materialized to sit on the foot of your bed. He’d followed you right into the bathroom to observe your ritualistic motions—he’d watch the application of liquids and powders until you appeared a veritable goddess trapped in mortal form. You could have given Hathor a run for her money tonight, as delicately and precisely you’d decorated your face, eyes, and mouth, accentuating the uniqueness of your features rather than obscuring them.

You were a vision, truly. If he weren’t so irreverent, he would almost have felt unworthy to behold you—but he was not a generous deity by any stretch of the imagination.

“You don’t have to,” you said finally, voice low as you applied the finishing touches. “I was mostly teasing. I know you’ll probably head out in a bit to handle your other business, or…whatever you do on nights like this. Do you have a temple that you go chill in when you’re clocked out?”

The majority of my temples lay in ruins or are inundated with tourists, he responded dryly. There would be little use in going now.

You paused, setting aside the last products and peering at him. “So…do you not have anywhere to go? At all?”

Khonshu shifted, pulling his knee up to brace his arm. He struggled to formulate a response, laid bare by your sympathetic eyes.

“Remember, love, you’ll need to be out the door in ten if you want to catch the bus!” Lizzie called, voice muffled by the walls.

“I remember,” you returned out of the cracked doorway, glancing down at the plethora of brushes and tubes littering the bathroom counter, most of them virtually untouched. “I’m almost done!”

Khonshu watched you gather it all together in the zip bag, somehow organizing it to where it all fit. He was certain that it was witchcraft.

“…I haven’t been able to attend this in a while,” you admitted, drawing his attention back up to your face—too somber now for so stunning an appearance. “My, uh…Ru’s father didn’t like me going.”

Khonshu fell deathly still. You had never once mentioned your ex-husband to him directly—in all your conversations, you’d avoided discussing your life prior to officially meeting Khonshu like a plague. Quiet rage flared low in his belly at the recollection of the neket-iadet.

Why? he inquired evenly, his voice lower than he had intended.

You shivered lightly and reached for a nearly-full bottle of perfume on your vanity. “You remember Gideon?”

How could he not? I do.

“Well, Ru’s father met him the first year I worked at the hospital. He thought that Gideon was making passes at me, which was not true—he still had his wife then, and he’s a very loyal man by nature.” Your face pinched, but you shook your head. “Ru’s father didn’t let me go after that.”

…I see, Khonshu rumbled.

“It’s a little bit of poetic justice that Gideon invited me to come this year,” you continued quietly, spritzing the fragrance on your neck and wrists. You set the bottle down with a clink and rubbed the oils into your skin—the scent pervaded the small bathroom, and Khonshu almost felt dizzy with it. “He does better with a social buffer, and so do I. I think we’ll both be a bit more comfortable having a friend we can fall back on.”

A…friend. You only referred to the gentleman as a friend.

The tension in Khonshu’s shoulders eased.

You tweaked your hair one last time and stepped back to give yourself a lingering once-over in the mirror, turning this way and that. You gave your reflection a tentative smile.

“Not bad, if I do say so myself,” you commented. At Khonshu’s extended silence, watching you wordlessly, you turned to him and raised a brow. “You could at least tell me I look pretty,” you pouted, fluttering your accented lashes up at him. “Since I went to all this effort.”

He harrumphed.

Your dress—crushed blue velvet so dark it looked black until light struck it—draped over your frame like an inkspill, just short of pooling at your ankles. Lizzie allowed you to borrow her sleek silver stilettos and her faux fur coat, reminiscent of some fuzzy arctic creature he’d seen in passing. You looked much different than you had a year prior—the highlights of gleaming midnight emphasized the muscles that his nightly work had slowly but surely built into your body with your every subtle shift and movement.

You look… He hesitated, and you tipped your head forward expectantly. …beautiful. You are beautiful.

Your mouth dropped open.

“Hey, love—the bus is heading up this way! You better beat it down there!”

You glanced between him and the doorway, torn, but ultimately bit the inside of your cheek, grabbed your clutch off the counter, and bustled out of the bathroom. Khonshu slipped into the metaphysical plane, trailing you as his fingers drummed along the hilt of his staff.

Lizzie whistled when you emerged from the hallway, fanning herself. “That doctor sure has missed his catch!” she crooned, circling a finger at you to turn with an approving hum. “You look delicious!”

You chuckled a little, still a bit flustered. “You don’t think it’s a bit much? Some of them might still be wearing scrubs if they just got off their shifts.”

“Not at all!” She flashed you a cheeky grin. “Tell me you’re wearing that lacy black set you thought you snuck by me last week.”

“Stop,” you laughed apprehensively, waving your free hand in front of your face. You’d even gone to the effort to have your nails done, and Khonshu thought that the accent complimented the dress quite nicely. “You weren’t supposed to see that!”

“If I didn’t already know you’re not seeing anyone, I’d be wondering who else is going tonight, love,” she grinned, then began to herd you out of the door. “Go on, shoo! You don’t want me to have to chauffeur you in my old lemon of a vehicle!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you responded mirthfully. “I’ll text you! Let me know if you need anything or if Ru gives you trouble!”

“You’d better!” she returned. “And we’ll be fine!”

Khonshu watched the ginger shut and lock the door behind you, then blinked away before she turned.

“Are you sure you don’t want to cut the rug a little? The night’s still young!”

“You’ve hardly smiled all night, like you’re miserable all by your lonesome. Do you want me to get you another drink so you can loosen up some?”

“You look absolutely dreadful, clinging to the corner like a little wallflower—it’s a waste of that outfit! You ought to go hunt down one of those strapping blokes from the ER!”

“No, thank you,” you responded with a thin smile, watching the disappointment flit across your coworkers’ faces, “I’m good. Trying to let the food settle.”

“Suit yourself,” said the lead sonographer with a sigh, and the other two nurses followed her as they wandered back into the fray.

The gentleman had failed to show. You’d been halfway through your meal when he’d finally texted you, something about his daughter falling ill. You sent him and her your well wishes, but you had visibly retreated at that point and had been lingering to the side ever since, glancing at your watch more frequently than would ever normally be justified.

Khonshu loomed in the rafters of the convention center, legs dangling off the beam as he watched you carefully. That trio was not the only people from your shift that had tried to convince you to go join the rest of the dancers in the center of the ballroom, music thrumming through the gargantuan space under the cacophony of idle chatter, raucous laughter, and off-key singing. Despite the throngs of medical and administrative professionals crowding around you, you still looked remarkably isolated.

…He really shouldn’t. He knew better. It was the very thing that had been plaguing him since you nearly caught him playing with Ru that first time. The last thing he needed was to repulse you.

He ought to conduct himself with utmost decorum—he was the god of the night sky. He shouldn’t fall prey to the superfluous whimsies of his idle fantasies. He was more than that, more than the base, instinctual urges that had been pelting his greater consciousness. He was a being driven solely by justice, motivated by the cries from travelers in the night in need of assistance, and vengeance was his creed.

He had enough self control not to indulge in silly mortal pastimes—and in you, no less.

…That was until a man approached you, anyway.

Khonshu leaned over, casting his hearing down to you once again.

“Hey, you,” drawled the drunkard, sidling up to your position next to the drinks table and offering you a flute or something bubbly. “See you’re not having yourself a good time out there. Want to come have some fun with me?”

Khonshu bristled.

“Hey, Kyle,” you replied idly, twisting your wrist to look at your watch again. “Hitting the good stuff too hard again, I see.”

“You’re real pretty tonight, by the way. But I think—” The drunkard hiccuped. “—think that’d look a lot better on my bedroom floor, yeah? Want to test it?”

“Not particularly. I’d rather not a hundred pound dress not end up with a flea infestation.”

“Aw, that’s only a hundred pounds? You sure make it look like a Gucci!”

“God help me,” you muttered. You cast your eyes upward with a long-suffering sigh, rising to your feet. “Thank you, Kyle. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to be heading home—”

The drunkard’s reflexes were surprisingly fast for such a heavy level of intoxication, grabbing your wrist like that. “Come on, pretty, we’re just getting started!”

Khonshu saw red, and he blinked out of the rafters.

“Kyle,” you started slowly, glancing around to the people around you. None of them were in casual talking distance, so you’d have to shout to get anyone’s attention—and undue attention is something you were never inclined to draw upon yourself. “Let me go.”

“You’re just like everybody else,” he slurred, frowning as he sloshed in closer to drop his chin against his chest and gaze down at you with hazy eyes, “having a laugh and taking a piss at me. I’m trying to be all nice and you’re just being a bitch—”

You tugged your arm back in his grip, but his broad hands were difficult to dislodge. “If you don’t want something bad to happen,” you muttered to him urgently, “I’d suggest backing off. Now.”

“Don’t get violent with me, sweetheart,” he growled, face morphing into a scowl, “unless you want me to return the favor.”

“I’d suggest you reconsider that statement. Immediately. Let her go.”

You stiffened and contorted in the drunkard’s grip, turning your head to peer over your shoulder with rounded eyes and a gaping mouth.

Kyle was not so keen to receive the memo. “And who the hell are you?”

Khonshu narrowed his eyes and curled his hand around the drunkard’s wrist, his fingers overlapping the joint and dwarfing the extremity by comparison. “I am the one who will shatter every bone in your lardy body if you lay one more finger on her.” He offered him a grim, feral smile full of teeth just this side of uncanny. “You may call me your arbiter.”

Kyle released his grasp and Khonshu followed suit. The younger man appeared shaken, much to Khonshu’s satisfaction, as he crept back. “I think I’ll just—be going now, yeah? You two have a lovely night.”

“One more thing.”

He paused, eyes wide, if for nothing else than to cling to any chance of survival when faced with an alpha predator. “Y-yeah?”

“If you ever touch her again—or anyone else, for that matter—after you’ve drunk yourself into a stupor, I will personally hunt you down and see to it you no longer have a tongue to swallow it.”

Kyle melted into the crowd and disappeared with a whimper.

“What,” you started, “the fuck.”

Khonshu clenched his teeth and turned, pushing his shoulders back and adjusting the cuffs of his shirt sleeves as a distraction from the sheer disbelief on your face.

“You’re…” You gestured lamely towards him. “…you’re…”

“Your nebulous vocabulary fails you once again,” he said tightly, refusing to meet your gaze. “I cannot seem to leave you unattended for longer than a moment before you run into certain trouble. Were you going to allow him to abduct you or has all of my training gone to waste?”

“…Khonshu?” you ventured hesitantly.

“It is good that you remember my name, at least. Shall I return the gesture?”

“Stop! Just…stop,” you retorted with a hiss, glancing around to see that a couple of onlookers were gaping at him—whether his sudden appearance or his stature, however, he was uncertain. “Are you…actually here? They can see you?”

“‘In the flesh,’ as it were,” he answered lowly.

You regarded him for a long moment, contemplative, before sighing and shaking your head. “This is one of those things you’re not going to bother explaining to me, isn’t it? That you can just…shapeshift at will? You just choose to look like a Lovecraftian horror all the time?”

(It was certainly not by choice.) “It has yet to come up,” he said, casting a glare towards his observers. They flinched and returned to their prior engagements. “Why did you not strike him?”

“Because I’d rather not lose my job, thanks,” you told him flatly. “He’s one of the chairmen’s sons and gets a free pass to do whatever the hell he wants. Hitting him would only get me in trouble.”

Khonshu growled under his breath, pressing in closer to stare down at you. “He should face reparations for his actions. You are certainly not the first he’s attempted to coerce.”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “I’m not,” you said confidently, “but all I can do is report him. I can handle myself, Khonshu—I had it under control.”

He didn’t want to believe you, didn’t want to concede, but…you raised a fair point. You needn’t put your sole source of income in jeopardy because of another man’s privileges. Khonshu could deal with the issue later. Right now, you had folded your arms over your chest and were hiding the fact that there was a red mark on your wrist.

“Let me see,” he mumbled, holding out a palm.

You placed yours in his carefully, eyes never leaving his face as he passed the fingers of his free hand over the blooming bruise to heal it directly.

“The gall,” he growled. “The audacity.”

“Thank you for backing me up,” you said softly.

He glanced up at your expression to find it unguarded and…fond? “I could have eliminated him on the spot,” he reminded you stiffly.

“And I’m glad you didn’t take the overdramatic route—he was already close enough to pissing himself.” You tilted your head, gaze passing over his features and traveling down his form. “I wouldn’t have expected a white tux, but…it’s not too shabby.”

Khonshu shifted his weight from one foot to the other, dropping your hand. “I am…glad that it meets your satisfaction,” he grumbled.

“If I’d known you were hiding a handsome mug like this, I might’ve asked you to attend shit like this with me sooner,” you teased. “Scary guard dog privileges and all that fun stuff.”

He scoffed, neck burning, and turned to look out across the sea of people, folding his arms over his chest in lieu of fiddling with his staff.

“…While you’re here,” you began thoughtfully, slipping to his side and curling your fingers into the crisp linen of his suit coat, “would you…want to dance?”

“Indulge you even more than I have already?” he remarked.

You fell silent, and he looked back down at you. Pensiveness was far less attractive than mirth on your features. “You don’t have to,” you mumbled. “I’m just…happy you’re here.”

Khonshu hesitated. “…Would it?”

You frowned, raising a brow at him. “‘Would it,’ what?”

He swallowed. “Make you happy.”

Your face softened. “It would.”

The god of the moon resolutely offered you the bend of his arm, shoulders rigid. “Then I will allow it…just this once.”

Your smile was brighter than any star he’d ever seen.

[weministertomonsters]

Point Hope Wolf Farm - 2

I was right to think I would be too busy to write another entry. What a riot yesterday was! I arrived at Point Hope Farm, finding the place to be a massive spread of pastures and fences and two buildings. The bigger one was the barn, and then there was the house, no less impressive with its fancy white stucco and wall-hugging flowering vines and a fountain out front.

The ride had been quiet. I had tried to engage the driver but he said not a word and did not even look in my direction, which I found rude bordering on strange. So it was startling to be suddenly swept up into the fuss that was Mrs. Whiteside.

"Oh dear!" She exclaimed with a drawl as she came down the stairs of the house, her arms outstretched. "To think you came all this way alone. Personally, I wouldn't have it."

"The journey was alright. I felt quite safe," I assured her.

She took my gloved hands in hers, smiling with a squint. "Lovely to have you with us, dear," she said, squeezing my hands. "Let's go inside, shall we?"

She stepped around me and put a hand on the driver's shoulder, speaking slowly and making gestures to accompany her words.

"Tom, bring Miss Hayle's bags in."

He bowed slightly and I realized he was deaf. No wonder he wouldn't look at me. I had been talking to the wall, in essence!

"Come, come!" Mrs. Whiteside said, pulling up the hem of her skirt and bustling inside. "Jon is somewhere around here," she said. "I suppose you will meet him soon enough."

Up the stairs we went, and she showed me to a very nice room that had a wonderful view.

"I can see the pastures from here," I said.

"Pastures? Oh, we call them wolf runs, dear."

Wolf runs. The name was apt.

"I will have a maid come up and unpack your things for you," Mrs. Whiteside said. "It is too late for a tour outside, but I can show you around the house."

"Yes please," I replied, excited to see what entertainment the rooms would offer.

There was no need to tour the bedrooms, although I did comment on the tasteful decoration. The first floor held the visitor's rooms, servant's rooms, and a massive dining room where all the meals were had. There was a wolfman head mounted up on the wall, his sneering teeth and glaring eyes presiding over the table.

Mrs. Whiteside saw me staring and said, "Oh, that was Samson. One of the first of the pack."

"What happened to him?" I asked.

Her expression clouded over and I instinctively knew I had trod on a sore subject.

"Sometimes they simply go mad," she said, staring up at the head. "And there is nothing you can do but put them down."

She patted her hands together. "Well, that is that I suppose. Let me show you our library!"

We went to the end of the house, and my, what a library it was! One wall was entirely glass, to bring in sunlight for the many pots that bloomed profusely with greenery beside the couches and tables, with small succulents tucked on a shelf here and there.

"I love plants and I simply couldn't resist, since this room gets such quality sunlight," Mrs. Whiteside said, caressing a heavy green leaf.

"It is like a forest library. I've never seen such, but I think it's amazing!" I enthused, already picturing myself curling up here with a book and a cup of hot chocolate, surrounded by green energy.

Just then there was a crash from an adjoining room, followed by such cursing that my ears seemed to ring. I wanted to ask where that door led, but Mrs. Whiteside was already stepping over, so I followed- curious cat that I am.

"Jonathan! You know you are not supposed to curse," Mrs. Whiteside said as she pushed the door open.

"Sorry Ma," a voice replied.

The sharp tang of turpentine hit my nose as an immediate irritation. I took my handkerchief to my face, fascinated by the room. It looked like a great wind had swept through and shuffled all the objects into opposing places. There was an old bookshelf with the shelves knocked out, housing blank canvasses. Painted canvases were squeezed between that bookshelf and the wall. A long, roughly hewn table was strewn with pencils, scraps of paper, and swollen tubes of paint, some of them used up and flattened. Paint brushes soaked in a glass of brown water and beside it sat an entire half-eaten pie.

It was like stepping into another world after the neatness of the rest of the house. The culprit of the chaos sat half-clothed in a chair, paint on his hands and under his fingernails.

"Put on a shirt, you have company," Mrs. Whiteside said sharply.

Then she turned to me and flashed a smile. "Well, I'll let you two get acquainted while I check in with the cook. Dinner will be ready in half an hour or so. Jon, I expect you to have bathed by then."

"Yeah," he said.

Mrs. Whiteside left in a flurry, muttering complaints under her breath. Jon poked another forkful of pie into his mouth and looked at me inquisitively.

"Hello. I'm Marcia Hayle," I said, and almost extended my hand but thought better of it.

"I heard you were coming. So it's Tuesday already?" He shifted in his chair, flicking a blob of dried paint from his finger.

"Yes. You paint?"

"It would appear so"

He stood and stretched, lithe muscle rippling under his tawny skin. I was surprised to find he was about my height. Mrs. Whiteside was tall and from the pictures I had seen, so was her husband. Jonathan was only an inch or so taller than me.

"I'd better bathe if I don't want Mother pulling my ear," he said, running a hand through his hair.

I stepped out of the room with him, breathing easier without the cloying scent of turpentine and oil paint.

"You will either love or hate it here, that depends on how queasy you are, I suppose. Either way, enjoy your stay, Marcie!" He sauntered out of the library.

I find Jonathan a little funny, but time will tell if my impression of him will hold. Dinner was a peaceful affair. Mr. Whiteside came in from work, a scarily strict man like my father. Jon nearly got in trouble for being too casual at the table, and for not eating the crusts of his biscuits, manchild that he was. At least, that was his father's description, among other words.

The way Jon glared at him obstinately and seemed to ignore him intentionally made it quite obvious they did not get along. Surprisingly, Mrs. Whiteside only sipped her wine, letting them exchange barbs. I myself am not a stranger to discontent, for my parents don't seem to get along either. As it was, I ate my food and enjoyed the meal wholly.

It was sometime after coffee and rich fruitcake that a cry sounded outside, and an unpleasant ringing of what sounded like a multitude of church bells came all at once.

"One of them has gotten out," Mr. Whiteside grunted. "I'll go and see what the fuss is. Jon, get me my gun."

Jon fiddled with his hair. "Are you sure you can afford to shoot any more of them this year, father?"

"Just get me the damn gun!" Mr. Whiteside said, striding to the door.

Mrs. Whiteside was in the kitchen, so I saw no harm in standing on the front steps to see the action. Jon joined me, slouching against the doorframe.

"He's mad, that's what," he said.

"Your father?" I asked without thinking, and he burst out laughing.

"I rather like you," he said. "But no. I won't be able to stand for a week if I call him such. I mean the wolfman."

"Where?" I said, squinting in the dark.

Jon took my face and swiveled my head like a doll in the direction I should look. I remember thinking that was a strange thing to do, but my attention was captured by the crackle of flames from a large torch that one handler held, swiping it back and forth. Near the barn, the fire illuminated a massive, towering wolfman with fur so dark he seemed to melt into the night. The flames glinted in his eyes as he swiped angry claws at the handler. He was only forced back by another with something that looked like a pitchfork.

I leaned against Jon to be heard over the shouts and snarling.

"What do the flames do?"

"Scares 'em. They hate fire," Jon said.

A blast from the gun, which went wide. That seemed to intimidate the wolfman, who went from swiping claws and snapping teeth to pinned ears, drooping into an awkward crouch on the ground.

"Are you finished, Lucius?" Mr. Whiteside shouted, striding forward with a posture that instantly reminded me of a preening turkey. "Act out once more, and it'll be a silver bullet to the head for you, beast."

Lucius remained hunched and small and offered no resistance when a thick collar was clasped around his neck. He loped back into the barn with one of the handlers, and the excitement was over. The hole in the barn wall would have to be repaired and a stable boy was going to need stitches for a claw wound on his arm, but that was the extent of the damage. By the time I got to bed, I was so tired that not even the distant howls and barks of the wolfmen and persistent chirping crickets could keep me from falling into colorful dreams.

────────────────────────────────

I know I said Araza and Sam were up next but brain no working, especially since my attention is taken up by a commission. I forgot to update my away-on-a-break thingy on Fiverr and an old client commissioned something. It's all good though, who doesn't like making a little money?!

Anyway, Part 3 of Point Hope Farm will have werewolf pups thanks to a lovely Wattpad reader's suggestion! I forget about writing young beans of any kind because in real life my attitude is the "fuck them kids " meme. I don't know why I don't like tiny humans though.

So... Tumblr is in a clusterfuck again, no surprise there. I'm honestly too tired of this to care. I just want to write and share my writing. 🥲

On the topic of writing, I've been trying to upload my old stories that got deleted from Wattpad to Patreon but man, I have quite a lot of them (hitting like 100k words by now) and it's time-consuming and just takes up space. I like to stay organized and all the stories scattered everywhere are bothering me. I'm going to give them some minimal editing and compile them into an Ebook or two and just have that up on Patreon to download. How does that sound?

I think that should be possible, though I haven't tried it out yet!

Right. I'm going back to procrastinating. I've been thinking about all the things I want to write instead of picking one and it's like trying to accelerate and brake at the same time. I'm tired and feeling anxious about nothing. 🙃

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

A Swallow's Symphony In Spring (10/19)

Chapter 10 - And will the Swallows Come Again?

<- Previous | Masterpost | Next ->

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Warnings: Some people being assholes in general. Shitty arranged marriage talk.

Word Count: 2851

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Roman’s life was over.

This was it, the end, he was never going to survive this. 

And that’s how Virgil found him, buried under all of his pillows like he was trying to hide with a pile of handkerchiefs looking practically miserable. 

One of the pillows was lifted and Roman found himself met with the concerned face of his guard. Roman sniffed - he couldn’t think he looked any good right now, a pile of tears and red puffy eyes and all sorts.

“Is it really that bad?” Virgil asked, sitting down next to him and patting his back. “It’s just a gala - we already went to one and it was fine - surely this one can’t be this bad?”

“Oh but it is, Virgil,” Roman said with another sniffle, rubbing his face with the heel of his palm. “It’s so much worse than the winter gala.”

“Your acting is quite impressive,” Virgil said. “I couldn’t have guessed you were feeling this bad about it from how you reacted to the announcement.”

Roman huffed and buried his face in a pillow again. He’d been practising his acting skills all his life - of course he was good at them. At least he was good at them when he knew what his mother wanted from him, and in this case it was for him to be excited about the Spring Ball coming up (as excited as was proper to show, at least). Knowing he had fooled Virgil gave him hope that he had fooled his mother too. 

“What’s so awful about this one?” Virgil asked, still rubbing his back. The action was soothing as it always was - he found himself relaxing practically against his will. “Should I be worried?”

“It’s… Spring is the season when everyone wants to marry,” Roman said glumly, “And because it’s being hosted here it means everyone will be wanting to marry me.”

“...Ah,” Virgil said softly. “And… I suppose you don’t particularly want that, huh?”

“I’m never going to fall in love with any of those stuck up, snobby nobles,” Roman groaned. “I don’t want to marry for power like the Queen wants - I don’t want to marry because I have to - if I ever marry at all I want it to be for love-” He looked up at Virgil, takes a deep breath and considers for a moment admitting something he should never, ever admit. Eventually he just drops his head down on the pillow. “It’s going to be awful.”

“Well… I’ll be there, at least,” Virgil said. “I’ll be by your side the whole time - if you’re being approached by suitors all evening they’ll want me to be, right? For protection.”

“Mhm…”

“So just focus on me, okay?” Virgil said, giving him a soft smile. “I’m gonna hate it too just because it’s a crowd of people - so - I mean hey, maybe we’ll be able to escape off together at some point.”

Roman sighed. “Mhm, maybe…”

—-

Somehow, the ball was even worse than he had expected. 

The ballroom itself was decorated in soft pinks and greens, huge blooming bouquets of exotic spring flowers sat in elegant vases on each of the small tables set about the room for people to sit at. The room was shimmering just as Roman was, in his soft lilac and gold blazer, a white tulip in his pocket and his hair done up in tight braids and woven with fresh flowers. Apt, for the season, he supposed, though he preferred his outfit for the winter ball personally. 

About a dozen people had attended in hopes of seeking his hand in marriage. Princes and Princesses alike from other kingdoms, as well as nobles of the highest rank from their own kingdom. Roman expected that almost all of them were likely after his power, and the rest just wanted to be royalty. His parents had sat him between the two of them, with Virgil standing amongst his mother’s guards off to the side whilst each suitor approached them and presented him with a gift, each of them just as fake and expensive and useless as the last. 

“Roman,” The Queen hissed at him, halfway through the presentation. “At least look like you’re having a good time, these people have travelled a long way to see you.”

Roman straightened his back and put a smile on his face as yet another Prince offered up a jewellery set, huge blue gems and silver detailing. It was beautiful, but it would clash with his skin, look awful with his hair - he looked better in gold, he would never wear it - it was just an expensive, useless gift. Roman hated it, all of it, but he couldn’t show that with his mother right there, he just had to smile and thank the Prince whose name he had already forgotten. He just had to wait for the next person to come up and present yet another pointless gift. 

Roman must have sat through an hour of it, the pleasantries, the compliments, the introductions, the gifts, they were all the same, everyone wanted the same thing and Virgil wasn’t even here like he said he would be. It wasn’t his fault - Roman knew that it was under his parents' orders that Virgil was stuck with their other guards - but it still hurt not to have his guard (and best friend) beside him as he was forced to make stilted, painful conversations with royal after royal. From every angle he was being judged, his parents were breathing down his neck, everyone was talking and talking and the music was too loud. It wasn’t long before Roman desperately wanted to leave. 

It didn’t even feel a bit like freedom when he was allowed to leave his throne to mingle with the crowd. He was still required to interact with everyone who was presenting themselves as a suitor and Roman was already dreading it all as a noble girl came up to intercept him immediately, bringing him onto the dancefloor with a smile on her face. Roman gave a slightly desperate look back at Virgil, who was also freed from his post with the other guards but couldn’t follow him into the dancing. Virgil looked worried and upset, Roman hoped they’d be able to talk for some point. 

—-

“So, your highness…” Said the princess he was currently dancing with. Roman was required to spend time with every one of the people who had attended this ball to court him, this girl was no different. Though Roman had made it quite clear he was not interested in women, his mother still seemed to hope he would change his mind so that he would be able to produce an heir one day, “Sir Roman, are you listening to me?”

“Huh- oh! I mean, yes, of course,” he says with a polite nod. “My apologies… go on.”

The princess was talking about her kingdom, the powerful alliance that Hirundia would be gaining if he were to marry her, pretty much the same thing that every other royal suitor had promised him. Roman knew a new alliance with one of their neighbouring kingdoms would be beneficial to them - and he’d told each of the suitors who had said so just how much he would appreciate an alliance with their kingdom, for money or resources or political power, and he hated every word that came out of his mouth. 

Too many suitors wanted to dance, and by the time he had managed to find someone willing to stand or even sit and talk his whole body was aching terribly. His feet hurt now as he made his way around the ballroom but at least Virgil was finally able to join him, standing behind him like a shadow. Once, the looming might have creeped him out, but now Roman was just relieved that Virgil was ready and waiting in case something went south, in case he needed an out. 

Roman had got through a conversation with almost every suitor and a dance with everyone who wanted one and now there was only one left. He’d talked about his kingdom’s politics and his parents more than he would ever wish to, he had been forced into uncomfortable discussions about who he would choose to marry, but this was far, far worse.

“Of course, I’d like to be able to provide heirs to both my kingdom and yours,” Said the woman who sat with him. She had been pleasant while they danced, making small talk about the decorations and his clothes, but this…. “I’d like to think such a handsome Prince would be able to make suitable children?”

“I…” Roman faltered, stunned, “I am - I have barely come of age for marriage, I have not put in the time to think about children yet.”

“Ah, of course,” She said, eyes flicking behind him to Virgil. Roman didn’t look back, but he could assume that Virgil was frowning. It wasn’t an appropriate topic, at least Roman didn’t think so, not for their first time meeting at least, and Roman didn’t want to marry her anyway, “But if you were to think about it - couldn’t you see us raising such fine children?

“This conversation is inappropriate,” Roman said, hoping that that would get her to stop.

“Oh I know, I know,” she said, waving a gloved hand dismissively, “But really, what does it matter? It’s a simple question.”

“His highness told you this conversation topic was inappropriate,” Virgil cut in from behind him. It took all of his years of practice for Roman not to droop in relief.

“Who are you?” She scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

“He is my personal guard,” Roman said, frowning at her, “If you continue with this conversation I will have you removed from the list of potential suitors, I do not want to discuss having children, especially not with someone I do not know.”

“But you could know me, what better way to start?”

“I could, but I no longer want to,” He said, standing up and turning, “Come, Wynter, we are leaving now.”

Virgil nodded and quickly turned to follow him, leaving the woman to watch with wide eyes as Roman turned his back to him.

“She was the last, right?” Virgil asked him quietly, barely even moving his lips - impressive. Roman gave a subtle nod in response. “Come - lets get a break.”

With yet another relieved sigh, Roman led the way out of the ballrooms and onto the balcony that led the way down to the gardens. Guests were out here too, enjoying the way the flowers were just beginning to bloom after the snow had melted away a few weeks ago. Roman enjoyed it too, though with his training starting back up he had not had much of a chance to enjoy it. The best thing about the gardens right now, though, was that they were less crowded and bright than the main ballroom, and far quieter too. In the dim light of dusk Roman could even hear the last of the daytime birds. A few people looked his way as they passed, but Roman thought the look on Virgil’s face may have deterred them. Roman was grateful for the fact that no-one approached him either way. 

“Come sit here,” Virgil said quietly, leading him to one of the rather hidden benches at the back of the gardens that Roman liked to frequent to draw or write when he had free time. Roman gladly sat down with Virgil, taking a deep breath of the cool, fresh air and letting it out slowly. Only then he realised that the floral smell in the ballroom had been so overwhelming, he practically slumped once they were sitting, finally out of view of everyone’s prying eyes. 

“Okay,” Virgil said quietly. “That was awful.”

Roman couldn’t help a little, tired chuckle. “I told you so.”

He received a gentle elbow to the side for that one, “I was trying to be optimistic,” Virgil huffed. “Though I’m not very good at it, I know.”

“You’re fine at it,” Roman said with a soft sigh. “You did make me feel better - but… really, this event is terrible every year - at least last year, the Queen was presenting me as a suitor to a Prince from a different kingdom.”

“The role of ‘suitor’ does seem somewhat preferable,” Virgil agreed, “I’m glad he didn’t end up marrying you, though.”

Roman hummed, leaning back a little on the bench. “Me too - I don’t think he was interested in men. As far as I know, he ended up marrying one of the noble girls there. He wasn’t very attractive anyway.”

A small chuckle escaped Virgil, “Oh really?”

“Mhm he was… blonde, and short,” he said. “I would much prefer someone taller than me, at the very least.”

Virgil nodded, “You’re quite short yourself,” he pointed out, “How short was this guy?”

“Oh - just a few inches shorter than me, and he had this sort of - his hair was quaffed,” Roman said. “It looked like a big lump on top of his head.”

With his hand, Virgil was now hiding giggles, shaking his head a little as he smiled. “No I - I wouldn’t think that sounded attractive at all,” he shook his head.

“No…” He said softly, sighing. He knew he had put a bit of a damper on that conversation - but he was finding it difficult to pretend to be happy with everything going on in his mind. 

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asked, nudging him again. Roman looked up at him. He wished he could see himself getting married, but he knew that he could never be married to the person he really wanted to be married to. Maybe he wanted a wedding - not a royal one, something cosy and warm and sweet, with friends and people they both cared about, with dancing that was fun and games and no stuffy etiquette and ballrooms. 

“Have you… have you ever thought about getting married, Virgil?” He asked softly, looking up at him. Virgil’s eyes widened just a little, turning to look at him properly.

“I mean - I guess not? Not really - no-one’s ever really put pressure on me to do that kind of thing,” He shrugged, Roman sighed and looked down. “But - if I did, I’d want to get married to someone I loved - I mean, someone I wanted to share my life with.”

Roman sighed and nodded. “That’s - that’s what I want too - I want to marry someone I love, not someone who wants to marry me for my mother’s gold.”

“Yeah - all of those people you had to talk to felt like they wanted to take advantage of you for your wealth or your kingdom’s power and it’s just - I hate it so much. I’m sorry your mother is putting you through this.” Virgil sighed, fidgeting with his cape.

After a long while of silence, during which Roman avoided Virgil’s eyes. Because he knew who the person he’d want to marry if he could would be. “What sort of wedding do you think you would want? I mean - hypothetically, if you found someone you loved enough to marry?”

For a moment, Virgil didn’t say anything, looking thoughtful. “I think I’d like something small - I don’t want a huge party filled with people I don’t know, you know? Nothing like these parties - I’d want my family there - and my friends… I think I’d want to do it at home, or in Jay’s tavern, that would be cool - but yeah, something small and sweet - maybe with like - a dinner? Enough food for everyone but not anything excessive, and a party that’s actually fun afterwards - definitely a commoner wedding, nothing like what you would get done here if you got married.”

Making a face, Roman sighed, “I don’t think I’d want a wedding with all of the bells and whistles my parents would plan if I married one of those people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just… all of this is - it’s a lot, even just the balls. I wouldn’t want my parents there, that's for sure. Honestly, I think I’d prefer something like you’re describing.” Roman chuckles, looking down at his gloved hands, “I don’t want to have to wear these. I want to be able to hold my partner - actually kiss him during the ceremony, you know? I would want - I want to actually be in love and be loved in return.”

“I wish you could have all of that,” Virgil said softly, “I…. I wish I could give all of that to you.”

Roman tilted his head, looking at him, a small spark of hope flickered in his chest - what was Virgil saying? That couldn’t be right, it was impossible, Virgil didn’t like him that way. Roman shook his head, he was getting his hopes up for nothing.

“We should… we should head back.” Roman said, taking a deep breath to compose himself as he stood back up. “My parents will notice that I’m gone before too long.”

Virgil sighed, looking down. Roman wondered why he looked hurt.

“Right,” He said softly, standing up as well. “I’m with you.”

----

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----

[fereldanwench]

Get to Know Me

@nananarc my beloved tagged me to do this a few weeks ago, and I'm just finally catching up on these. 💙

🎨 Favourite Colour: "hmm many. I guess it's more about the combination of colors." ← YES, same. There are some colors I do tend to gravitate towards on their own, but even then, it depends on the context. Like for clothes? Black or dark earth tones or deep jewel tones. Home decor? My home office has a lot of deep, warm browns, mint green, and orange. It's about the combination. 🤌

📖 Currently Reading: Six Four by Hideo Yokoyama, translated by Jonathan Lloyd-Davies. It's pretty dense, so I've been going through it slowly, but I'm enjoying it. I saw it described as a "slow burn crime novel" that focuses more on characters than action--That is my shit to a T.

🎶 Last Song: I've been having a 90s Garbage revival, and I've had their remastered debut album on repeat. You Look So Fine is an underrated fave.

🎬 Last Movie: Um... I don't know, lmao. It was either Barbie or John Wick 4, I think. I haven't watched a lot of movies lately.

📺 Last Series: Currently watching (for the first time) The Righteous Gemstones with husbando, which is the insane, hilarious shit I expect from Danny McBride and Walton Goggins. Also been rewatching Better Call Saul now that S6 is on Netflix--Debating slipping another rewatch of Breaking Bad in before BCS S6.

🍴 Sweet, Spicy, Savory: Savory, for sure.

🤤 Craving: Nothing food-wise at the moment, but I'm so ready to be moved into a new place and settled in and enjoying autumn weather to the fullest.

☕ Tea or Coffee: Coffee during the day, tea at night

🤓 Currently Working On: I've just been on a huge VP kick lately, so mostly doing that while not working and house/apt hunting.

Tagging @theviridianbunny, @chevvy-yates, @elmknight, @togepies, @voidwife, and @gloryride 💙

[wildflower-otome]

[Translation] Clover no Kuni no Alice Light Novel  ~White Calling~  Chapter 2

Act 2 - The doors whisper, the girl hesitates

—Open the door.

‘............’

The conversation with her master hadn’t even been that long ago. She wasn’t intending on losing her way for the time being, but here she was.

While sighing countless times, Alice was gazing at the door before her in a daze.

The voice that whispered to her was always the same. Let’s go to the best of places, it said, as if it were the ideal choice. Without at all taking into consideration for whom it was ideal.

‘............’

Clunk.

As she bent her head, it collided with the trunk of a tree. It didn’t hurt. There was just a numb tingling feeling in her body, that was the sort of sensation it had.

Roles. Moving. Doors. This world was full of rules that Alice the Outsider could not understand.

It had been Alice herself who had decided to remain here. It wasn’t as if anyone had forced her, or wheedled her into it. And of course, she wasn’t here under any conditions someone else had put her under.

She thought that she wanted to remain here. Even so, the glass vial that held her bitter feelings of responsibility did not break, and she was unable to ignore the voices of the doors.

‘Julius, Gowland.’

The two friends who were no longer here in this Country, no matter where she were to look. If she’d known they would be separated due to the sudden move, she would have gone to see them more often. Or perhaps if she’d known they would part, she would have kept her distance from the beginning.

No matter how many different scenarios she imagined, she couldn’t escape her thoughts. Despite knowing she was doing something meaningless, she wasn’t able to easily settle the part of her that wanted to question things.

Lives that no one would mourn, even if they were to disappear. In this world where everyone could be replaced, the separation called moving was probably no big deal…..however, the anxiety of not knowing when it would come, or when she might be flung away from this place was still building up inside Alice.

‘............’

If a move were to happen in the same way—what would she do if, when she woke, she was someplace other than Hatter Mansion?

It was the place she had chosen over returning to her original world. If she could not stay there, what on earth would she do?

At the moment she was sighing for the umpteenth time-

Something moved from the side of the tree that was in front of her. Alice’s eyes widened at the unexpectedly familiar shadow that rose up from within the deep green.

‘....Pierce?’

‘Pii? Ah, so it was you, Alice! I’m so glad, I thought it might have been that kitty cat again!’

The figure that appeared, twitching his large fluffy ears was exactly who Alice expected it to be.

Pierce Villiers. His second name was "The Dormouse." He adored coffee and as a consequence of drinking it so that he wouldn't sleep, lived the life of an insomniac, in complete opposition to his other name.

Despite that, he was a fully fledged member of the Hatter Family. However, he had a rather strange personal history, because coffee was banned from Hatter Mansion, he was currently in the middle of running away from home.

His accented sleeves and collar caught the eye, contrasting with the green of his jacket, which seemed apt to blend in with the colours of the forest. On his head he always wore a hat, as if to emphasise that he was part of the Family.

'Tsk tsk, but why are you here, Alice? Are you working too? Hm hm, what a bother, a bother indeed…..'

It hadn’t been all that long since she had gotten to know him, but it seemed to be a habit for this Mouse to quickly chatter away all at once. Just like that, it all ended up bursting out. Alice stood up in order to meet his gaze, and shook her head.

‘I’m not here for work. I just came out to the Forest for a bit.’

Hearing Alice’s answer, he grinned and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

If she looked very, very closely, the red and gold decorations attached to them were a little dirty. Perhaps he had gotten dirt on them while he was walking through the Forest.

‘I see. Yeah yeah, forests are great, aren’t they? There are plenty of places to hide.’

‘.....That’s…true.’

The voices of the doors around them had quieted down at the exact moment that Pierce had appeared.

She remembered what that Rabbit had said about them, that the voices of the doors could be heard by those who hesitated. 

Certainly, when she was with someone as lively as him, she didn’t have the time to be hesitating.

While wiping the dirt from the Mouse’s cheeks with her handkerchief, Alice spoke as if puzzled.

‘Be that as it may…..I’m impressed you’re able to live in a forest like this.’

‘Huh? Why? Forests are wonderful places.’

‘No…..it’s just, there are so many doors here,  it feels hard to relax with all the signs pointing all over the place….Boris is here as well, so it’s not as if you can rest at ease, right?’

As Alice casually spoke the name, Pierce startled big time. His large eyes darting from left to right, he looked around him.

‘B-Boris is here-!! Nooo-, kitty cats are scary, I hate kitty cats!’

‘C-Calm down-….He isn’t here, he was at the Hatter Mansion not long ago, he definitely won’t have come back just yet.’

As she soothed the frightened, trembling Pierce, it seemed his anxiety went away all at once. Like a deflated balloon, he dropped his shoulders.

‘Thanks goodness. If the kitty cat was here, I couldn’t play with Alice….thank goodness, thank goodness.’

‘No, I didn’t necessarily come here to play….I was just thinking I was surprised you were able to live in a place like this.’

As she gave a wry smile at the Mouse’s self absorption, he tilted his head as if to peer into Alice's face.

His bangs, which were somewhere between orange and gold, it was difficult to tell which, were like a curtain. The green eyes within stared at Alice as if surprised.

Pierce's eyes simply conveyed his bewilderment, nothing else.

'Hm? You don't like the Forest? It's such a nice place though…..is it because the kitty cat's here?'

'It's not necessarily anything to do with Boris…..don't you ever get lost, Pierce, staying in a forest with so many doors like this one by yourself?'

She had heard that Pierce was a member of the Hatter Family, but he didn't seem all that strong.

He didn't have Elliot's imposing build, nor did he brandish sharp weapons like the Twins. The indescribable intimidating aura that Blood possessed was also far beyond him.

All alone in a forest of whispering doors, there was no way he wouldn't lose his way.

However, it seemed that Alice's question was one that he wasn't expecting. His large eyes widened even further, and without any hesitation he immediately answered, 'I wouldn't get lost.'

'Of course I wouldn't. I'm a mouse after all. It isn't a mouse's role to get lost. If I got lost, I wouldn't be able to do my work.'

'............'

'Do you hate forests, Alice?'

His question was straight to the point. He directly only said what he wanted to, without any embellishments. As if caught, Alice ended up answering simply as well.

'I don't hate forests but…..I don't like the doors.'

'Hmm…..I see, you can hear the doors' voices. Hm hm, I see.'

Pierce nodded his head at the girl's words, but then halfway through looked as if he had thought of something. His ears opening wider as if they were flowers, he smiled as if very happy.

'That's it! If you hate the doors' voices that much, I'll stay with you, Alice!'

'Huh?'

'If you're with me, you won't hear the doors' voices…..yes yes, it'll be great. I won't be alone then too, and I can be with you…..yeah, it'll be perfect!'

Completely in a rapture over his own idea, the Dormouse grabbed Alice's hand in high spirits.

'W-Wait a moment, Pierce-'

'Chuu….Alice. Let’s live together. You can stay at my house, so it'll be lots of fun. Yeah yeah, it'll be good, it'll be great!'

She had no choice but to walk on as Pierce pulled at her hand, his brown tail swaying happily.

Flustered, Alice tried to shake him off, but no matter how weak he seemed, he was a member of the Mafia, and she wasn't quite able to free herself.

'Only my friends can enter my house, you see. So that means if you come to my house, you're my friend. And then we'll smooch a lot, so you won't worry about the doors at all anymore.'

'Pierce! I never said that I would go. Besides, I need to return to Hatter Mansion…..'

Her break would be over the next time period after the next. It was the work her master had given her at her request, not long after she had begun to reside at the Mansion, she didn't want to do a half-assed job of it.

No matter where Pierce's house was, it wasn't the place Alice was to return home to.

'Aww~ Why, how come? Do you hate me, Alice? Because I'm a mouse? Because I'm dirty? But I'm such a good, clean mouse, I'm not dirty at all.'

'No one was saying you're dirty-'

Bang-!

At that exact moment, as if to interrupt Alice's words, a gunshot rang out.

'-!'

As Alice turned around towards the direction of the shot as if surprised, her eyes widened at seeing an unexpected figure.

'............'

In the space that was like a sea of green, stood a single shadow. Holding a gun aloft in one hand.

His expression was icy and unreadable. Unconcernedly, and yet without hesitation, the gun was aimed towards where Alice was.

The chain attached to the pale pink gun made a metallic clinking sound.

'.....Peter!? Wh-Why are you here?'

The Prime Minister of Heart Castle. The being known as the White Rabbit was standing there.

He was a clean freak to the point of oversensitivity, and did not like to leave the Castle more than necessary. Why he was here in the Forest…..unable to think of a reason for his sudden appearance, Alice stared at him in astonishment.

However, Pierce, who was holding Alice's hand, had a completely different reaction.

'Ah——, it's Petey! Mr Rabbit, Mr Rabbit!'

As he started to run up to him the moment he let go of Alice's hand, almost jumping like a child that had found a toy—

'.....Die.'

Bang bang!!

'Gyaaaaah!'

He was greeted with gunfire full of killing intent. Though making use of his small build to dodge it with ease, perhaps it could be said it was only to be expected for him to raise his voice into an almost scream.

'H-Huh- Why are you shooting!? Petey, please don't shoot. It's dangerous!'

'Of course it is, I am aiming with the intention of hitting you after all…..Please hurry up and die. The likes of a filthy mouse dirtying my beloved…..you deserve to die a thousand times over.'

'P-Petey-...Pyah-...Uwawawah-.....! Y-You're so mean, why are you shooting at me!?'

Pierce pleaded in a teary sounding voice as he just barely dodged bullets that skimmed his green coloured jacket, but Peter did not stop firing.

His head, body, tail, and ears…..he continued to aim his gun at any place he could.

'...........’

Speaking of Alice, whose ears were hurting from the sound of the successive shots, she could only watch their exchange while instinctively shrinking back. At the very least, since Pierce was one of the important people known as a role holder in this world, he wouldn’t be shot so easily.

‘.....Even like that, he is Mafia after all….Pierce will be able to handle himself somehow.’

In actual fact, he had just dodged a whole bunch of bullets just now. It would be a waste of time for someone like Alice, who had neither the ability nor courage to get in the middle of the gun battle, to worry.

Once she had started to feel that way, half looking at it philosophically, it seemed she was able to stop being so concerned by the screams in front of her to a certain extent.

If that hadn’t been the case, she would have stepped in to stop the White Rabbit’s rampage as a matter of course. At any rate, when it came to Pierce’s screams, they weren’t normal. They echoed with a sharp pain in her head.

‘Ah, that was close! You’re gonna graze my tail! Gyaaah-!’

‘Please don’t scamper around! Good grief, you really have no idea when to give up!’

‘O-Of course I’d scamper-! I’m a mouse after all! We scamper around-…..Uwah, pyah!’

The green forest was filled with the sound of screaming and a voice full of killing intent.

As she listened to them, Alice tilted her head in puzzlement, as if just realising something.

‘.....That aside-’

A rabbit shooting at a mouse in a forest.

‘I thought rabbits were supposed to be peaceful herbivores….’

It would seem it was difficult to describe either of the animals before her as normal.

*

She wasn’t sure how long it took for the one-sided gun battle to end. Pierce raised his voice loudly so that even Alice, whose head and ears were both hurting, could hear.

‘Uwaaah…you’re so mean-! You’re such a bully, Petey-!’

While yelling in a voice that sounded as if he were half crying, the Dormouse ran off at full speed. From the remarkable speed of his legs, and the fact that there were no traces of blood nearby, it appeared there was no cause for concern.

The smell of gunpowder filled the vicinity. Just how many bullets had this White Rabbit used?

‘Peter…you need to cut it out too. Pierce was crying for real, you know.’

As she drew closer to him while speaking half-exasperatedly, the White Rabbit at last shifted his gaze away from the direction the Mouse had run off in.

‘Alice. You really are a kind person.’

The eyes fringed by white lashes were a vivid red…..and in them, was a soft expression that had not been there a moment ago.

A rapt, admiring gaze.

Seeing the change, she was relieved inside her heart.

Truth be told, the completely icy expression on Peter’s face just before had been such that even Alice was liable to be frightened despite herself, it had made her shiver.

Cruel and cold. That evaluation of Heart Castle’s Prime Minister was a definite one, his words and actions proved it.

‘But, a mere mouse is not worthy of your kindness. There is no way I can forgive such a dirty mouse for touching you. The likes of a lowly cleaner…..No matter how many times he were to be shot, it could not be enough to atone. It is a given he should die.’

‘.....Peter…..’

‘No, not just touching you, he should not be allowed to even get near you. Listen, Alice. That mouse…..no, that mouse and everyone else, they are all dirty, if you touch them, you’ll be covered with germs.’

‘Cut it out already, Peter.’

As she spoke a little more strongly, it seemed he sensed her displeasure. The White Rabbit’s expression looked troubled, but for the time being he stopped speaking.

The girl, who judged that he was now in a mood to listen to her a little, continued.

‘Even if Hatter Mansion and Heart Castle are enemies, you don’t need to say such terrible things. He might be a member of the Family, but he lives in the Forest now.’

‘Whether he is a comrade of that mad group or not, whatever he may be…..I cannot forgive him for touching you.’

Dissatisfied looking red eyes looked in the direction the Mouse had run off in as if to chase after him. It was Alice who was at a loss as she noticed that he seemed disposed to start shooting again.

This White Rabbit…..no, everyone in this world was the same. Fundamentally, they only focused on what they wanted to say, and didn't listen to what other people said. And the only ones who were allowed to be so high handed were the limited group of people known as role holders. Peter was one of them.

However, despite his words and actions being somewhat stalker-ish, he never went against the things Alice said.

He was a man that was in a different category compared to the master of the Mansion and the Queen of Heart Castle, at the very least, he would stop doing anything that she truly did not like.

Although…..right now, Peter wasn't completely complying with Alice's request.

'What is it? If there's something you want to say, say it.'

'.....If it is what you want, then it cannot be helped, but-'

Though he nodded his head, albeit reluctantly, if Pierce had been there at that moment, whether he would actually obey Alice's order…..that was something not even she had confidence in.

Speaking of which, Alice suddenly thought to herself that it had only been recently that he had started showing his face at Hatter Mansion, which for him was enemy territory.

Just as she had been surprised to see him appear in the Forest a moment ago, the Prime Minister of Heart Castle did not like to go outdoors.

If she wasn't mistaken….. it had been when they had moved to this green country that he had begun to passionately invite her to move to the Castle.

'To begin with—I do not like these doors that lead you astray.'

'? Peter…?'

As if to make Alice's doubts disappear, a sharp, cold voice once more echoed in the Forest. However, the Dormouse whom he had opened fire on was no longer there. He held his gun at the ready, but just who was it directed towards?

Alice stopped moving and stared at Peter as if to question him, but quicker than answering her, he took hold of her hand.

'.....Huh?'

'These things shouldn't exist. How dare they try to lure you.'

I will erase them all for you.

He seemed even to be smiling as he spoke quietly, but faster than the echo of his voice faded, gunshots once again rang out.

The shots came at a high speed that could not even be compared to when he had been shooting at Pierce not long ago. The rapid fire shot through all the doors that entered his field of vision.

‘............’

Alice, who could only stare dumbfounded at the suddenness of it all, remained unmoving, her hand still in his.

Peter’s weapon was a single small gun. Despite the fact that there had to be a limit to the bullets loaded into it, his movements did not change at all. With clockwork-like precision, he shot all the doors in the area.

Gunshots and the small sounds of things breaking. Even as they continued to echo, Alice said nothing.

‘............’

If his target had been something living—she thought that she would have stopped him. Nevertheless, though the doors whispered, she was unable to think of them as being alive. She let the White Rabbit continue as he wished.

It was the truth that she felt relieved at no longer hearing the doors’ whispers. Because it didn’t seem as if she could stop herself from hesitating when she heard them entice her to return home.

‘............’

Her ears rang at the unending sound of gunshots. Her head was tingling with a throbbing pain.

All the same, for some reason, now that they no longer whispered, now that there was someone there to hold her hand….she felt tremendously calm.

Through the glove, his hand felt strangely….gentle.

‘—Alice.’

‘Ah…’

‘It’s over now.’

She didn’t know how many bullets he had used. Even so, as Alice opened her eyes, having returned to herself at the sound of the White Rabbit’s voice, the area all around them was utterly transformed. 

Newly made bullet holes were visible on all the doors that had been attached here and there to tree trunks and the ground’s surface.

And finally, the doors’ voices, which had been so noisy when she had first come to the forest, were now entirely silent.

The Forest had been stopped. For some reason, those were the words that came into her mind.

‘.....I’m surprised you didn’t run out of bullets.’

She wondered how he had been able to fire off so many shots while still holding her hand. That this was a different world where her common sense didn’t come across was without a doubt, but even so, those were the thoughts that impulsively left her lips.

Alice’s words may have been out-of-place, but Peter did not laugh at her. With an expression that was a little more relaxed than the rigid one he had had earlier, he simply answered as if it were no big deal.

‘I wouldn’t run out of bullets. I have an infinite number of them. They would only run out when my life is at its end.’

‘............’

He answered as if that were the only explanation necessary, but to Alice those words only furthered the mystery.

Nonetheless, it seemed as if Peter had at last settled down now that the doors’ voices had been sealed. Holding her hand a little tighter, he tilted his head.

‘The scenery looks a little better now, but….Alice, you still look pale.’

‘.....-’

His face came closer all of a sudden, taking Alice aback for a moment.

To begin with, the good looks alone of many of those called role holders in this world were the real deal. For the most part, that favourable impression was usually ruined on account of their personalities, but at this close distance it was undeniable.

‘P-Peter...-’

‘You shouldn’t stay at that Mansion. If I was by your side,  I wouldn’t let you go to the doors ever again…..You are a cruel person…..Ah, but that is why I love you-’

Eyelashes white like snow. In contrast, the colour they bordered on was a ruby red.

Alice’s figure was reflected deep within eyes that did not allow even a single speck of impurity.

‘............’

She had seen these eyes up close any number of times up until now. However, she had never taken the time to look at the colour of them in detail like this before.

What—a beautiful red they are, that was the kind of out-of-place thought she had.

‘But, you still…..look unwell. That mouse must have given you some kind of strange illness.’

‘Would you stop talking like everything’s about getting sick!’

It had been just a short moment that she had been surprised by the beauty of his eyes. Alice felt somehow relieved seeing Peter act as he usually did.

Now that she felt drained, she could act as normal. She moved back slightly in order to put distance between them, but still Peter did not let go of her hand.

‘No, there is no doubt you must have gotten germs since a mouse like that touched you….Ah, Alice, forgive me! If I had gotten here a little earlier, this wouldn’t have happened!!’

‘.....Peter.’

Grimacing within his embrace as he hugged her tightly as if lamenting, Alice continued while sounding exasperated.

‘I’m fine. Anyhow, I need to go home soon. So many things happened, I’m exhausted.’

‘...It is out of the question for you to return home like this. Not just that….the place you’re returning to is where that mad group of Mafia live, isn’t it? I cannot return you to a place like that while you’re still in this condition.’

‘Are you telling me to move to the Castle again?’

Alice spoke as if fed up, but in the end Peter smiled.

Although, his face did seem a little disappointed.

‘I shall not do anything you dislike. But I cannot let you return home as you are now…Ah, that’s it.’

The White Rabbit beamed. He looked like a child that had thought of a great idea.

‘I’ve thought of a good way to help you. Let’s go to my room, Alice.’

‘To your room?’

‘Yes. Please rest in my room. Truth be told….I do not want to return you to a place like that….but, if you rest a little before you return, you’ll feel better than you do now, right? Although really, I would like you to stay, and not just for a little while.’

‘I’ll have to say no to that.’

‘.....Yes. I thought you might say that.’

A bitter smile arose on the White Rabbit’s face at Alice’s direct answer.

The room of the Prime Minister of Heart Castle was a special one. Especially because its owner was a clean freak without parallel. She had heard that not only did he not allow even the maids to enter to clean, if you were to carelessly go near it, you would be shot on sight. The absurd reasoning he gave for doing so was, ‘They spread germs all over my room.’

Alice had been allowed to come and go from that rarely seen place many times before now. Of course, because the owner himself had invited her, she did so without so much as a scratch.

‘Come, let us go, Alice.’

‘W-Wait…..!’

It seemed as if Peter had already taken that she would go as a matter of fact, but Alice, who was the one that had been invited, had not been able to give her answer yet.

It was true that she still had some spare time before her next work shift. She hadn’t made any other arrangements with her friends from other territories. One could say that she had no reason to turn down his invitation.

But, at the same time, there was no reason why she had to go.

Be that as it may—as he tugged on her hand, Alice’s feet were already moving, as if to chase after his red clad back.

‘............’

‘............’

As he walked down the forest path his soft hair lightly swayed. Silky strands of hair. Each time she saw them she always thought that they looked like snow.

Even the white ears that stretched out above…..she had grown completely accustomed to them.

‘Anyway, you sure do some pretty reckless things. Even those doors…..won’t they just go back to how they were before once the time period changes?’

In this world with its irregular time period changes, it wasn’t unusual for dirt that had gotten on things to disappear. Indeed, although Alice had not seen something completely broken be restored, if it were just some bullet holes, they would disappear as well after a few time periods had passed.

Once the colours of the sky had changed a few times—it was likely the doors would start to whisper once more. The White Rabbit’s merciless shooting spree was, in the end, nothing more than a stopgap measure.

‘Yes, that’s right. But….right now, the doors here are unable to do anything. They won’t lead you astray, or take you far away from me….I won’t let them.’

A green coloured path. Because it was currently noon, the sunlight that spilled through the gaps in the trees reflected off his white hair, making it shimmer and shine.

The dream demon who lived in Clover Tower had hair of a similar pale colour, but it was of a different kind than his. The White Rabbit’s colour was a consistent white that made one think of snow. A completely pure white that could not allow a single spot of dirt to seep into it.

‘Alice.’

Inside the sunlight that filtered down through the trees, a white shadow turned around.

It might have been because the exit to the forest was near. Perhaps because his entire body was covered in a white light, she couldn’t clearly see his face.

‘I can do anything if it’s for your sake. I will never forgive anyone who hurts you.’

Words that were unrelenting. A fierce sounding voice in which one could not feel even the slightest bit of mercy.

All the same, why did she end up feeling that it sounded kind?

‘And, if it is something that you want….I want to do it for you, no matter what it may be.’

‘.....Peter.’

Within the white illumination, Alice thought that he was surely smiling. Even though she had no proof, for some reason she felt that she was right, with something close to certainty.

The existences known as Outsiders, who almost everyone would come to like the more they got to know them. However, even before he had been in contact with Alice, Peter had always been acting for her sake. Although it wasn’t necessarily the case that they were always things that she herself wanted.

‘You spoil me too much.’

The hand that held hers was soft, warm, and for some reason, made her feel calm. She would feel very lonely once it was gone. She thought that she wanted to stay this way.

‘—Thank you.’

Though she was able to say words of gratitude, there were still emotions lurking inside Alice that she hadn't yet gotten off her chest. Though these were things she shouldn't be thinking.

—Granting all my wishes, doing anything for me—

—But you doing just that, and not wanting anything from me, makes me sad, you know?—

Something like that.

She was nothing more than an Outsider, so for her to even wish for such a thing…..it was too self-conceited.

*

‘Welcome back, Lord White. And welcome to you as well, young lady.’

Women wearing maid outfits with black as the base colour, in contrast to those of Hatter Mansion, bowed deeply. Red was the colour their uniforms were accented with. Each time they moved, it was the colour that caught the eye from the chic maid outfits.

The maids and guards she had known since the Country of Hearts welcomed her in the same way that the role holders did. When they told her, 'It's good to see you again' each time she visited the Castle, it was likely they weren't just saying it to be polite.

'Let's go, Alice.'

'Ah…..alright.'

Following his lead, she continued walking further into the Castle. As she nodded her head in greeting to the nearby soldiers they passed, Peter suddenly stopped. So that she wouldn't bump into him, Alice stopped walking too.

In a voice that sounded as if he were sighing, there was a clear note of exasperation. 

'I thought you would be performing your duties at this time…..have you already taken care of them, your Majesty?'

'We do not wish to hear that from you of all people. Always abandoning your work and going out without a care…..and not only that, trying to keep Alice all to yourself…..how naive. You have brought her into our own territory, did you think we would not notice?'

Clack clack, the ringing sounds of footsteps drawing closer.

Because of Peter's back in front of her, she couldn't see their figure, but she knew who it was immediately.

As she popped her head out from behind the White Rabbit, a vivid red spread out before her.

'It has been too long, Alice. We had thought to have White's head for disregarding us and sneaking out from the Castle, but perhaps we shall pardon him since he has brought you here.'

'Vivaldi.'

As Alice spoke the name of the beautiful woman dressed in red, her crimson lips curved into an opulent smile.

She, of course, was Vivaldi, the Queen of Hearts. Her Majesty the Queen was effectively the supreme wielder of authority in the Castle. With her glamorous black hair and refined looks among other qualities…..she was the model of a perfect queen.

The small crown that was placed on her head swayed a little each time she laughed. 

'Fufufu…..you have come at just the right time. We were just about to start our break. You must want to have tea with us since it has been so long, right?'

'Please wait, your Majesty. Alice was just about to have tea with me, just the two of us. Please do not get in our way.'

Hearing Peter's flat dismissal, the Queen's slender eyebrows rose slightly in response. The joyful smile she had had for Alice just a moment ago was erased in an instant, in its place was a clear displeasure.

'.....We have said that we shall have a tea party. Are you saying you will not obey us, White?'

'To begin with, Alice came to the Castle to rest in my room. Please do not try to steal her from me.'

'............'

'............'

In the red castle, two people dressed in red glared fiercely at each other.

The maids and soldiers nearby glanced at Alice as if troubled. No matter which of the two she were to follow, Alice knew from experience that one of them would again say something that was bound to cause problems.

That was why Alice took a single step towards Vivaldi.

'Then let's have tea together, all three of us. This Castle is such a big place, there must be somewhere the three of us can drink tea?'

She smiled as she made the suggestion, but the two of them objected, dissatisfaction plainly written on their faces. 

'Alice, what are you saying?'

'That's right. We should just leave that noisy Rabbit out of it. If you wish, we shall cut off his head—'

'I want us all to have a tea party together. Couldn't we? Vivaldi, Peter?'

As she called their names while tilting her head, the two people dressed in red were for a moment at a loss for words. Both Vivaldi and Peter were soft on Alice. When she said this much, it should be difficult for them to say no.

'.....My my, to think that you would want to include someone so unnecessary to our tea party…..it is a shame, but I suppose it cannot be helped.'

'That should be my line. Ah, Alice, if only you would be kind just to me…..'

Smiling wryly as both Queen and Prime Minister complained, Alice secretly felt relieved. By all rights, since Peter had been the one to invite her first, it should have been her promise with him that should have had precedence.

'Thanks, you two.'

However, it would be a problem if she were to choose Peter here while leaving Vivaldi behind. It was possible she might execute  some of her subordinates in order to stress vent. It was an everyday occurrence for her to order beheadings over something as small as having an invitation for a tea party turned down. 

If by some chance the two of them had continued to object, she wasn't sure what she would have done. She had been worried about it, but luckily her fears had ended up being needless.

'Well then, let us have a garden tea party—you over there, they have just finished tending to the roses in the east garden. Have it prepared right away.'

'Certainly.'

A maid who had been standing at attention nearby nodded her head and went to leave immediately. However, as her gaze suddenly met Alice’s for an instant, she did not forget to give a bow of thanks.

As the girl watched her leave, the scent of roses became stronger. As she turned around, a rose-like smile was blooming before her.

‘Fufufu…..you really are adorable. It is exceedingly unfortunate that we must entrust you to the Hatter. We would much prefer to steal you from him.’

The movements of the hand that stroked her cheek coupled with her fragrance felt as if they were sweetly luring her in. Eyes fringed by long lashes once more amusedly reflected Alice within them.

‘Majesty. Please do not do anything distasteful. Your perfume will get on Alice.’

Peter, who had been silent until now, pulled the girl’s body towards him, as if snatching her away. A chest that was sturdier than it looked supported her.

‘.....What, you were still here?’

‘Of course I am. I was the one that invited Alice. To leave her alone with you is out of the question.’

Answering back as if annoyed, Peter tugged on Alice’s hand and began to walk. But the direction he took was not towards his room, but the area close to the Castle’s gardens. While knowing that Alice had breathed a sigh of relief as she noticed that he had, the White Rabbit said nothing.

***

Hatter Mansion and Heart Castle. If there was one thing the two enemy territories had in common, it was their fussiness when it came to tea. No, more precisely speaking, it was the fixation their leaders had towards it.

‘It really has been too long since we had tea together. Speaking of which, you have not really shown your face at the Castle much since the move to the Country of Clover.’

As she leisurely drank the tea a maid had handed her, the Queen beamed. Perhaps it was partly due to the time period having changed to evening, almost as if that had been what she had been aiming for. She seemed to be in a very good mood.

'I'm sorry. I've come to the Castle a number of times since the move but…..'

Alice spoke evasively, her gaze directed towards Vivaldi.

Sitting in his seat with a nonchalant expression, Peter answered as if it were only natural.

'Alice came to see me. Besides, your Majesty still has a mountain of paperwork to attend to, do you not? Please do your work if you have the time to be having tea parties.'

'.....What an inconsiderate rabbit you are…..Well at least it is only you here. I feel a headache coming on just thinking of that other one being here too.'

Almost immediately after the Queen had spoken while half-sighing-

'—Ah.'

'W-Welcome back.'

There were the sounds of a commotion among the maids that should have been standing behind them ready to serve.

And then, at the exact same time, Peter and Vivaldi, who had been sitting down with discontented looking faces, frowned further. Seeing the change in expression from the two of them, Alice didn't even need to look to know who it was that had arrived.

'Your Majesty, I have returned! Long time no see too, Peter! Hahahaha. Nice to see you all looking so lively.'

'Ah, this is the worst…..'

'That, at least, we can agree on.'

A bright and refreshing sounding voice. The owner of the voice, who was not at all bothered by the reaction from those around him, was someone Alice knew well.

As she turned around unable to completely hide her sigh, there stood the third red-wearing resident of Heart Castle. It was an extremely cheery looking youth wearing a bright red coat with worn out cuffs, a huge grin on his face.

"The Knight of Hearts", Ace. He was one of the important people known as a role holder at the Castle, the same as Peter and Vivaldi. His skill with the sword was formidable, but due to his eccentric sense of direction, it wasn’t unusual for simple movements between places to become long journeys, whether he was inside or outside the Castle.

Alice had come to the Castle a few times since the move to the Country of Clover. Even so, the only time she had seen him was her first visit just after the move, most likely he had been away each time since, off on one of his usual journeys.

‘Hey, Alice, you’re here too! Wow, glad I made it back with such good timing.’

‘What part of this is good timing…..You should have just stayed lost for all eternity…..’

Tch-.....they were faceless assassins after all, I didn't really expect much of the likes of them…..how useless.

The White Rabbit muttered venomously to himself, but she deliberately pretended she had not heard.

‘.....You’re right. This is you we’re talking about, it’s difficult to know when we’ll next be able to meet.’

At the moment she was smiling wryly at his usual poor sense of direction. Alice suddenly noticed something was a little off.

‘.....?’

Still sitting down, she looked up at the tall man’s face. Before her was a smile that was like the sky, without a single cloud in it.

He was the same as always…..that was what she had thought, but something about him felt different.

‘Hm? Alice, did you forget what my face looked like? I’m gonna blush if you keep staring at me like that.’

‘No, that’s not it…..’

Was he really the same?

It wasn’t the kind of difference you could tell immediately from his appearance…..but she had a feeling something was different about Ace’s smile now.

What exactly was different about it, Alice herself wasn’t quite sure. But something about it bothered her.

While she was still musing over that feeling of something being out of place, a merry voice called out to her, ‘That’s it, Alice.’

As she turned back around from examining Ace, the red Queen was looking at Alice, her chin resting in her hands, looking as if she were enjoying herself.

It was plainly written on the Queen’s face that she had thought of a good idea.

'We are at last together again after all. Let us play a game. We are sure it will be enjoyable if it is the two of us playing…..what do you say?'

'A game?'

'Yes.'

In this world there were countless rules. For some reason, participating in games and gatherings seemed to be part of them. Alice was an Outsider, so strictly speaking, she was not bound by the rules, however she had been dragged into things countless times up until now by the laws that were indispensable to the inhabitants of this world.

Nonetheless, Alice was far too powerless to serve as an opponent in one of their games. It was too heavy a burden for Alice to be the Queen's game partner, when she could use neither dangerous edged weaponry or guns.

It seemed as if Vivaldi understood what she was thinking straight away.

'Fufufu…..why do you look so worried? It is nothing so serious. Just a bit of entertainment…..Hey, you there, bring the cards.'

'Cards?'

As she watched the nearby maid who had accepted the order quickly dash off, she tilted her head in confusion.

Just what kind of game were they going to play using cards? Alice thought that she at least knew the rules for something like poker or black jack, but at this stage she wasn't yet able to guess what it might be.

‘This is a game a trader that came from far away suggested to us the other day. We think you will definitely enjoy it, don’t you?’

‘Please wait. Why does Alice have to go along with your Majesty’s outlandish requests? She came here to have tea with me.’

‘Be silent. Even with Alice here, having to look at your faces will only spoil the flavour of the tea. If you’re just going to complain, hurry up and leave already. We will feel relieved once you do.’

As she opened the cards her maid had handed her, the Queen spoke sharply as if annoyed, not looking at her subordinate.

Even while Peter had been complaining, the rouge manicured fingernails had been pulling out a number of cards. A, K, Q, J, 10…..five cards in total were spread out on the table.

Each of the cards was of the heart suit. However, she hadn't yet finished. The Queen’s gaze was still directed towards the cards.

‘This isn’t a joke. I could not leave Alice alone with such a dangerous combination as Ace and your Majesty.’

‘.....The soldiers and maids are here too, you know?’

As expected, the words that Alice spontaneously interjected with did not seem to reach the long ears. He passionately continued, ears still standing straight up.

‘Ah, please be at ease, Alice! I would never abandon you, my beloved! As long as you are here, that alone is enough for me…..!!’

‘Then, be quiet and watch, Peter.’

Indifferently letting Peter’s words go in one ear and out the other, Alice was watching Vivaldi’s hands. Her beautiful fingertips gliding over the cards, she continued to take them out just like before. This time the cards she selected were spades, but all seemed to have the same values as before.

Alice and her older sister had amused themselves with card games many times before, but this was the first time she had seen a game like this one.

To begin with, Alice was a person with a great thirst for knowledge by nature, and her interest had now become completely caught.

It seemed that Vivaldi had noticed it as well. All smiles, the Queen handed Alice the spade cards.

‘This game is called “CLOVER&HEART”.....but it would seem this is your first time playing it.’

‘Yes. What kind of game is it?’

She held five cards in total. Three face cards, and one each of the A and 10 cards.

‘The rules are simple. We each take out cards from the ones we are holding. The one who takes out the card with the higher value wins. But just that wouldn’t be interesting, would it?’

The bright red nails took out the K card. She tapped the card.

‘This card cannot win against A. In exchange, A cannot win against any other card but K.’

'In other words, A is the weakest card, but at the same time can be a trump card. You're right, simply comparing the values on the cards wouldn't be much of a game.'

The Queen looked approvingly at Alice as she answered to confirm that she understood.

'That is correct. You are so clever, it may not be necessary to explain further but…..we can only use each of our cards once. We choose three times, and the one who has the most wins becomes the victor. That is the kind of game this is. Do you understand?'

'.....I see.'

It was a test of one’s powers of deduction and observation in reading your opponent. Alice understood straight away that it was a game you could not win without both good instincts and good luck.

However, at the very least, it did not seem to be a dangerous game. As someone who had to accompany the twins on a regular basis in their often hazardous playing, she was relieved.

‘I understand.’

'Fufufu, then let us begin.'

Giving a leisurely laugh as she spoke, the Queen reexamined the cards in front of her. 

As the emotion disappeared from her face as she began to concentrate, it only further accentuated the beauty of her features. As to be expected from Vivaldi, despite her excitement over the game, she was always the image of a perfect Queen.

However, Alice couldn’t just continue to admire her. As she checked her cards, she considered her first move.

‘.....What should I do…..’

It could get tricky using either the trump card A, or the strongest card K. Perhaps it would be best to play either J or Q first, and see how things went.

‘Hmm…’

In contrast to Alice and the Queen who had carefully begun to deliberate, Ace, who at some point had sat down and begun munching on a cookie, was chattering away at his usual pace.

‘No fair, your Majesty. I finally got to see Alice again after so long, I wanted to go on a journey with her.’

‘If you want to go on a journey, please continue to wander around all on your own. Alice will not be joining you.’

‘Hahahaha. You’re taking it out on me since Alice is so into her game with her Majesty, aren’t you, Peter? How cute!’

‘.....Die.’

Although the red eyes filled with murderous intent at the same time as the white ears twitched with a jerk, Alice was faster.

‘Peter, I’m in the middle of something. Be quiet for now. If you start firing, I won’t come to the Castle for a while.’

‘............Alright............’

At Alice’s matter-of-fact ultimatum, he quietly withdrew the hand he had placed on his pocket watch.

In the meantime, Alice had at last decided which card she would play. As she raised her head and glanced upwards, she met Vivaldi’s eye, who seemed to have been waiting for her.

‘Have you decided?’

‘Yes.’

Nodding while placing her hand on the card she had chosen, the Queen also moved her fingers—

‘Well then, shall we show them at the same time? We have chosen this one.’

‘Okay…..Ah!’

The Queen had chosen K. On the other hand, Alice had picked Q. As they both looked at each other’s chosen cards, Vivaldi gave a small laugh.

‘The first win is ours. There shall be three matches like this in total. Do you understand now?’

‘Yes, I understand.’

‘It’s alright, Alice. It is still the first match. I believe in your future magnificent victories!’

Just as Peter had said, there would be three matches all up, and she had only lost one. She could still make up for it with the next match. Knowing that, she couldn’t help but worry about what choice to make.

If she took out the trump card K, she could likely win against almost any other of Vivaldi’s cards. However conversely, it would all be over if Vivaldi anticipated that, and played A.

‘............’

‘Have you decided on your card?’

‘.....Let me see.’

With the conclusion she had come to after much anxiety in hand, Alice entered onto the second match.

However— the moment she saw that the card the Queen had chosen was J, she knew that she had lost.

‘The second victory….belong to us as well, does it not?’

‘That’s right, it’s your win, Vivaldi.’

Expecting A to be played, the card Alice had chosen was 10. With a single value difference, she had lost yet again.

‘Looks like our game’s over sooner than three matches.’

‘Hmph. So it would seem…..We would have liked to enjoy playing with you a little while longer, but…..Ah, that’s it.’

Throwing her remaining cards carelessly onto the table, Vivaldi brought her lips nearer to whisper.

‘Well then, now that we are the victor, what shall we have you do for us, Alice?’

‘...Umm.’

As Alice became flustered at the Queen’s beguiling smile at so close a distance, Peter suddenly stretched his arm out from behind.

As she was about to stand up from her chair despite herself, the White Rabbit pulled her closer to him and spoke plainly.

‘Alice has not only accompanied you in your selfish request for a tea party, but as a game partner as well. Is that not enough?’

‘.....Tch. And we were just at the good part….Well, it is fine. We are in a good mood right now. We shall forgive it on this occasion. However, there won’t be a next time, you know?’

Just as she had said, in high spirits, the Queen elegantly remained seated, and did not try to retrieve Alice from her subordinate.

And finally, after haphazardly pushing the pile of remaining cards towards the end of the table, she reached out a hand towards a newly poured cup of tea. It was likely not just the flavour of the tea that made her look so content as she drank it down.

‘Be grateful that it is evening, White. Otherwise, we would have had your head long ago.’

‘Hahaha. You really look after Alice, don’t you Peter? Made me a little jealous seeing you act all knight-like.’

As both Vivaldi and Ace spoke as they drank their tea, Peter still hadn’t moved his arm from around Alice.

‘Peter?’

‘Alice, this time, please play a game with me.’

‘Hah…..? With these?’

The White Rabbit nodded happily as she shifted the remaining cards she was holding.

‘Yes! Ah, but of course, I don’t mind if it is another game. It doesn’t have to be cards, chess, or anything else is alright with me. If it is a game that you wish to play, anything is fine!’

It didn’t seem at all likely that he had suddenly become interested in games. Alice looked up at the white figure in confusion.

Although the red eyes were shining as if to say that he had thought of a great idea, she knew. When he, no, when all the inhabitants of this world had that look on their face, they were almost always thinking of something good-for-nothing.

‘I want to play a game with you, my beloved! You wouldn’t be so cruel as to say that you will play with her Majesty, but not with me….would you?’

‘I didn’t say that I wouldn’t, but why do you want to play so much?’

Holding back the White Rabbit, who seemed to be enthusiastic enough to start dividing up the cards, Alice tilted her head.

Gripping the cards in a state of excitement, Peter argued further.

‘The two of us are in love, Alice. So of course, it is only natural for a couple in love to play a game while gazing at each other!’

As Alice became speechless, she had a feeling the red Queen had scoffed in the background.

‘Hmph, and just as I thought you were scheming something….how uninspiring, White.’

‘Hahaha. Mr Rabbit’s jealous. Wow, Alice. You sure are loved.’

One spoke as if disgusted from the bottom of her heart. The other in a uselessly refreshing way.

They talked as if they understood the White Rabbit’s feelings, but that still didn’t resolve Alice’s misgivings.

Not paying the slightest bit of attention to the two that had gone ahead and said whatever they wanted, Peter was already completely focused on playing a game.

‘What would be best…..Poker or black jack might be good too.’

‘.....Um, Peter? I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’

Skilfully shuffling the cards, the Prime Minister peered into the girl’s face.

‘Please be at ease, Alice. Unlike her Majesty, I will not say anything that will cause you to be troubled. I merely wish to play a game with you, just the two of us. Therefore…..’

With a happy look on his face.

The White Rabbit gave a charming— yet crafty smile.

‘In the event of your victory, your prize shall be myself in full.’

‘That sounds even worse than playing a penalty game.’

‘Ehh-!? Why? Even though I-…..I am such a cute and harmless rabbit-!’

Peter lamented almost exaggeratedly, but of course there was no way she could return home with such a large souvenir.

‘If you’re going to complain about it, I won’t play a game with you. And for the record, I don’t need this kind of prize foisted on me!’

‘Ehh-, no way….!’

‘.....If you don’t like it, I’m going home right now.’

Hearing him sound so crestfallen, Alice purposefully took on a cold tone as she spoke.

She knew from all her interactions with him up until now that if she were to humour him, the same topic of conversation would drag on indefinitely.

‘Uu-.....I-I understand.’

Relieved at hearing Peter at last sound like he had given up, a small voice made its way into her field of hearing.

‘Though…..I had thought that if you could not come to the Castle, then at least I could come along with you.’

‘There’s no way the Prime Minister can leave the Castle. What are you talking about?’

The things the White Rabbit said were always things she couldn’t understand.

Even now, Alice could not comprehend what those words meant.

***

Not long after Alice had returned to Hatter Mansion from Heart Castle, the colour of the sky changed. It would seem that the time period had shifted. The sky that had been the vivid red of sunset not so long ago, was now the dark blue of night.

‘Phew. Looks like I made it just in time.’

As Alice walked down the hallway towards her room she breathed a sigh of relief. In the end, after that, though Peter and Ace’s antics had gotten on Vivaldi’s nerves, she thought she was glad she had at least arrived in time for work.

Remembering the item in her pocket, Alice gave a small laugh. She wondered what he would think if she were to actually give it to him herself—and not only that, if he were to hear it came from Heart Castle as well.

‘Welcome home, young lady.’

‘.....You really do just appear in all kinds of places, don’t you?’

A white shadow was standing there close by as she turned the corner in the hallway. The hallway lights shone down on the figure of a man whose presence was so strong it stood out even against the darkness of the night.

‘This Mansion is my territory after all. There is no place I cannot enter, and I can always go anywhere I like.’

So Blood declared, but the conversation didn’t end there.

The green gaze directed itself towards the small can Alice held out as if exasperated, as if stuck there.

‘.....And this is-?’

‘A souvenir for you. I got it from Heart Castle, so it’s alright if you don’t want it.’

‘............’

Blood stared closely at the can Alice held in her hand. Likely he was confirming its origin from the decorations and letters printed on it. Finally, as if he had suddenly understood something, the man frowned.

‘It would appear to be a gift from the Queen…..As expected from Vivaldi, this is a poor form of harassment. I expect that she told you nothing?’

‘What do you mean?’

It couldn’t be that it was poisoned. Or perhaps, they were just normal tea leaves that you could get anywhere, made to look like high quality ones…..as the girl’s imagination ran with different possibilities, Blood shook his head.

Lightly taking up the can in his white gloved hands, he shook it around. A dry rustling sound could be heard from within.

‘These are the tea leaves that lot at Heart Castle stole from me not so long ago.’

‘.....Huh-’

‘Hmph, not only were these mine to begin with…..She has a lot of nerve.’

As the man sniffed, Alice became unintentionally speechless.

It was not at all unusual for the Hatter and the Queen to contend with one another over tea.

Sometimes one of them would steal the other's tea, or have their own stolen…..the two of them targeted each others' tea in the same way they fought over territory.

If they were just ordinary people, it would be nothing more than a squabble over tea, but the two of them had power and wealth to spare. Alice had no desire whatsoever to find out just how much trouble they had the potential to cause.

'Then…..I could always take it, if you don't want it?'

With such an odd history, his enjoyment of the item must be half ruined. That was what she had thought as she made the suggestion, but Blood put the small can he had been holding into his pocket and gave a sly smile.

'Don't be absurd. It's a gift from you. I wouldn't be so rude as to say it isn't to my tastes, Alice.'

'But you were just saying all that stuff about it being Vivaldi's…..'

'No matter where it came from, tea is tea. So that this doesn't happen again, I shall drink my new tea and come up with a plan.'

Seemingly back in a good mood, the man began to walk in the same direction Alice had been headed.

'Good timing. Join me.'

'.....Boss. You know I was just about to start work?'

Alice's work shifts must without a doubt be logged into the head of the man who oversaw this massive Mansion. However, her master continued as if it were no big deal.

'Just skip out. If you really want to work that much, your job right now is to be my tea drinking partner. That's what I've decided. It's a perfectly respectable job for a maid, wouldn't you agree?'

'.....You really just do whatever you want…..'

She scolded him as if exasperated, but in the face of his anticipation for tea, it had no more effect than a gentle breeze.

The man who was her boss, as well as the person who had given her her role when she had wanted work, spoke further.

'After all, once about ten time periods have passed, those tiresome meetings will begin. At least before then, you'll keep me company, won't you? I won't be free to drink tea whenever I want once they begin.'

'....Meetings?'

As Alice tilted her head in confusion at the unfamiliar vocabulary, Blood nodded his head as if he had just remembered and said, 'Yes. Now that I think about it, this is your first move isn't it?'

'It's similar to the balls in the Country of Hearts. After the move, we must attend meetings. That is the rule. We gather only so that we can hold discussions. It's quite the bother.'

'A discussion?'

She had a feeling she'd been hearing nothing but words she was unfamiliar with since just now. It was an unusual word in this world where it was routine for people to start shooting at each other each time they met.

Blood continued to speak as Alice remained unable to imagine such a thing.

In this country, Clover Tower is where the event is hosted. Including myself, all role holders must attend the discussion held by that caterpillar.'

An occasion where discussions were held by the event organiser Nightmare, the leader of Clover Tower. 

That was the event called a meeting, he said.

'.....By the way, when you say gather…..who exactly will be attending?'

'Right, it would be a group of faces you're familiar with. All role holders from other territories will be there.'

'.....Looks like yet another dangerous situation…..'

The attendees would all be people who got into gun fights even with people from their own territories. And if one were to add to that people from other territories—it was a scene she didn't really want to think about too much.

Perhaps sensing Alice's exhaustion just imagining it, Blood continued to explain without looking back.

'However, meetings are also a kind of event. During events we cannot scheme, or start fights. It is a sort of pact.'

'Huh?'

'It's a rule that is only in effect during meetings. We wouldn't get anywhere with our discussions if we were shooting at each other after all.'

'! That's great!'

In this absurd world, sometimes they came up with things that made sense. Bringing her hands together in front of her chest in relief, Alice felt that things might just be alright after all.

If that was the case, it would be better if the meetings continued on indefinitely….that was what she had thought, but the sound of her master's voice as he continued brought her back to reality.

'We do our best not to shoot, or to pick fights…..that's the kind of agreement it is.'

'.....At least it's better than nothing.'

If it reduced the chances of them all getting into fights like they were in some kind of lawless zone, then it was a good thing.

'Ah, and there is also a rule that we must attend wearing formal wear as well, young lady.'

'Formal wear…? Like the ball from before?'

If she recalled correctly, the pink dress she had worn back then had been her master's choice.

As the girl thought to herself that she most likely would have to wear something similar again, her master at last turned around.

'No. The clothes we wear at meetings must be something different. A fitting session has been scheduled for the near future, so look forward to it.'

'....But, formal wear…..it won't just be me, but everyone else too, right?'

A coat with card suits on it and a hat decorated with roses and place cards, at the very least, those didn't at all seem to be things that could be called formal wear. Not only that, there was also Elliot's black military uniform, and the twins' school uniforms. It would be difficult to describe any of those outfits as formal wear.

'Correct. It's a bother but…..those are the rules so it can't be helped.'

Her master shrugged, then opened the door with one hand. Before she had realised it, they had reached the ground floor, the usual table enshrined there as if to welcome them. 

'There are many irritating limitations in place during the meeting periods. Before then, it's a maid's important job to entertain her master, wouldn't you say, Alice?'

At being urged yet again to join him— Alice no longer had any reason to refuse.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1988 mansion in Oak Brook, IL looks like a former hotel or apt. house (it's not). What I like about it, is that it's not white & gray- it's bold. 6bds, 7ba, $2.395M.

The entrance hall. It's been freshly painted and they didn't make it gray. Glad they didn't listen to HGTV. This emerald green is stunning against the black and white.

This floor sure is lively. I don't know if I like the round pattern in the larger squares, though.

Don't like the dull wallpaper, love the blue cabinets, don't care for the too-busy backsplash.

Moody style dining room. But, it gets natural light from the double doors.

Sunken living room with pink and black accents. Love the purple couches.

Ooh, graffiti wall. What does it say? Loyalties?

The guest powder room needs some more decor. The mirror looks like porcupine quills.

Office or library. Like the cabinetry and ceiling.

Huge family/rec room.

This looks like a home school classroom.

The upstairs hallway.

The primary bedroom is very large. Nice fireplace and carpet.

Like the terrace.

Huge en-suite bath.

Looks like 2 separate closets. One for shoes and accessories. This is nice.

Large secondary bedroom decorated in dots and stripes.

Beautiful bath.

This large bedroom has a coffered ceiling and an en-suite.

The bedrooms in this home are gigantic. This one has a terrace.

Nice pool room.

Nice home gym or dance studio.

Sauna in the gym.

Big home theater. I wonder if the chairs come with it.

The patio has everything. Looks like a cabana, fireplace, pergola with outdoor kitchen, and hot tub.

Bathroom for the pool. This is lovely.

1.03 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/107-Livery-Cir-Oak-Brook-IL-60523/4497402_zpid/

[elismor]

'For the DVD Commentary'!

If someone had asked Flood to describe what he thought the Alphas’ barracks would look like even two minutes before they’d dropped into it, he would have used words like “ordered” and “meticulous”. Maybe “stark”. Or even “severe”. All were apt representations of the tone of their training under the watch of the infamous ARCs. But none of them applied.

The bunks were made with regulation corners. And, yeah, the gear was stowed in a precise manner. But the walls were not the uniform grey the longnecks had determined to be the most appropriate shade for maintaining order in the ranks. There were stripes and patterns near bunks and a larger than life-sized mural of a mostly naked twi’lek woman on the far wall. The gun locker was huge and open; full of weapons that set the twins chattering about specs and ammo. Nearco was enchanted by the huge stack of datapads and comms equipment laid out on a table in the corner and Boomer’s jaw had gone slack at the pock marks and carbon scoring above the door where someone –or someones– had fired their deecee to form a short but never-the-less impressive phrase.

Fuck the Seppies

As for Flood himself, well, he’d been focused on the carpet. Every morning he hopped out of his pod and landed on the frigid decking. Socks didn’t help. Nothing did; not until he was fully kitted and walking in formation to the mess; blood finally flowing to his insulted toes. The rug was garish; bright greens and oranges with a purple check woven in and it most certainly had been smuggled in from a campaign. The Kaminoans didn’t believe in frivolous decor. Or comfort, for that matter.

He’d give his right nut and both of Scoops’ to land on that after morning call.

It was Boomer who brought them back to task by hissing a low “come on boys”. There wasn’t any real need for quiet now that they were in, but they all moved quickly and silently, invoking every bit of their stealth training. Bunks were stripped, powder was spread, and the whole operation was enacted with a deft precision that would have earned them top marks were it an actual training exercise rather than a prank about to go horribly and irrevocably south.

I had a lot of fun writing this bit and it was not really planned when I started the fic, but I thought it was important for Flood to see that the Alphas are just men, too. I think he's prone to find those of higher rank to be a little scary and the Alphas have their own reputation on top of that, so it was important to me that he get a taste of everyone having the same sort of underlying humanity.

The details of the bunk room itself unfolded as I was writing it. I wanted it to be a mix of what you might expect it to be and a home--but a home for soldiers...so the decor is personalized but also sort of themed. And some of the art above the bunks was inspired by what The Ghost living quarters look like in Rebels. My favorite bit is the fuck the seppies in blaster marks--to my mind it shows both whimsy and the deadly nature of the clones' abilities. There are no guide marks, it was shot there freehanded.

Fordo painted the Twi'lek. He has hidden depths. Flood's distraction with the rug was fairly ad hoc. I wanted each of them to be struck by some particular aspect of the room and have that aspect relate to their personality, somehow. Turns out Flood has perpetually cold feet and craves just a bit of luxury. He didn't know that last bit until he saw the rug. And it was a rug because, again, I wanted to show that the Alphas want some comfort, too. The idea for the rug as decor came before the ideas about how Flood would react to it.

Thank you for being interested enough to ask!

The Rules for this Ask Game, in case anyone else is interested: Pick 500 words from any of an author’s fic and paste them into an Ask. The author will respond with a Director’s Commentary on the scene. Happy to continue to use this as an excuse to ignore the two wips that are giving me fits right now.

[fattybattysblog]

May Flowers Day 10: Hawthorne

Theme: Hope

Fandom: Original

Characters: Saphira, Mako

Rating: T

This is where it ends.

I didn’t see them coming… and I don’t know how they found out, but someone knows what I am. They sent mercenaries after me. Hunters specialized in pursuing shape changing creatures. Though they couldn’t stop me from transforming like they can for changelings or lycanthropes, they could find me.

I wonder if someone will find me. I can only hang on the small sliver of light in my vision. The slight hope that someone will come help me. I don’t know if I can come back from this. Breathing is difficult and everything feels fake. Like I’m having some weird dream. I hear rushing in one of my ears… is that water or blood?

I wasn’t aware that I would remain whatever creature I was last. Though they know I am a T’vahren, it will always look like they have killed a human. I don’t know that for certain… but… I am so weak. I’ve tried to call out for help but nothing comes out. I would assume I’d turn back if I could by now.

Maybe I should crawl to the river nearby? I can hear the roar of the waterfall. I can only feel one arm…

I want to see my real face before I die.

I wonder how it looks… What does a T’vahren face look like?

Will my eyes still be blue?

It’s… I can’t see now. My chest hurts.

I can hear someone coming… They’re not as heavy as the hunters. Maybe they’ll try to help me? They’re coming closer. But I can’t speak. I can barely feel anymore. The only thing left is the pain. But that’ll be gone soon too.

I hope they don’t get scared if I turn back…

Maybe they’ll bury me…

The last T’vahren…

The first thing to awaken is my nose. I caught a whiff of flowers and it startled me to smell them so strongly. Are the woods blooming right now? It’s an apt time for it. I must have missed the rain falling for my death and now the flowers are sprouting. At least the woods will look pretty.

But it doesn’t feel like the grass is beneath me. It’s so much softer. And it’s all around. On top of me, beneath me, surrounding me. It’s soft and warm. I don’t want to move because it feels so nice. 

Move… I twitched my arms. One hurts and the other moves. But I can feel them both. And my legs. It still hurts a little to breathe, but it isn’t so shallow anymore. And I don’t have the floating sensation of being in a dream.

I snapped my eyes open. There’s a ceiling above me and I was in a dark room. Sitting up, I could see the lightly decorated walls around me, the bed I’m lying in, and the closed door at the end of the room. I blinked in surprise.

“A-am… Hello? Am I-... Is th-there?” I stammered. I have so many questions and none of them are coming out. I wanted to know what happened but I was afraid to know the answer.

As if summoned, the door clicked and a person entered the room. They were wearing a cloak and the hood was pulled over their head. Two green lights in the dark of the hood centered on me and I flinched.

“Awake already? I was expecting a lot longer.” He muttered. His body clattered as he straightened, the wings on his back coming into view. A reaper. I hadn’t seen one in person.

“Am I dead?” I asked. It seemed obvious to me that I am. A reaper wouldn’t show themselves to just anyone. Obviously, I should be dead. After that event, I must be. But the reaper shook his head and pulled down his hood. He gave me a grin. An odd sight from someone without lips. He has a surprisingly expressive skull.

“No. You had a lot of fight in you.” He said as he flicked on the light and approached the bed. His? Do reapers sleep?

“I… Thank you. B-but…”

“We can talk later, kid. You still have a lot of resting to do.” He hushed me by waving a hand and he turned to leave. There was something so odd about him. What reaper keeps someone alive? I pulled the blankets up around my neck and stared up at the ceiling.

I was given another chance… I shouldn’t waste it this time living in fear. I had one hope fulfilled. It incensed me to attempt fulfilling another. Maybe I could save my species somehow. If I’m alive, others must be too… I can only hope.

[stabby-sheepy-writes]

Operative #6

Genre: Horror, 5k words,

TW: Death, Suicide, Violence, Body Horror, Gore, Mechanical Horror

AN: I had a really cute idea and it turned into this horror piece, and all of my friends adore my little robot buddy so I decided to share him here. No lesbians in this one, but boy does Wilbur like to spin. Look at him go.

Summary: What happens if the robots we've built to care for us refuse to let us die?

PDF Host Document Vers.

Somewhere in the middle of the rolling hills and plains, where the grass was green and the skies always blue, there lies a town. On the edge of this small, yet lovely town, stands a small yet lovely wooden house at the edge of the woods. The house was made of logs and brick, handbuilt long ago and lived in for generations, seeing child after child grow up and pass the house down to their next of kin. Although the house itself was simple, as the technology in the world grew smarter and more complex and the town grew larger and larger, bit by bit the little wooden house found itself gaining a few upgrades. First the phone lines, then the internet, then different smart appliances here and there until finally the day came that Wilbur joined the household.

Wilbur was a small helper robot, given to the old man of the home by his children who had grown too old to live and take care of him anymore--not that the old man needed Wilbur, as he was apt to say. 

A grown man should take care of himself, is what he would say when his eldest helped him take the robot out of the box and put it together. 

The newfangled thing will never get used, he said as his middle child helped him program in the routines Wilbur was to follow every day. 

It’ll get underfoot, he grumbled as his youngest helped set up the tracking and showed him the different options he could access from the app on his phone, and to explain the self-learning aspects of the new little machine.

“It’ll learn and grow smarter as you use it, and soon it will be able to do things on its own without you having to tell it so or put it into its programming. Isn’t that amazing, Dad?”

The old man had dismissed such a notion, stating quite simply that he would tolerate its presence with him, as he was sure it would at least provide him some conversation in town. And naturally, once his children left and it was just the old man and Wilbur in the little wooden home, Wilbur very quickly became the old man’s favorite. 

┍━━━━━━━☟━━━━━━━┑

The only sound to break the morning silence as the sun broke the horizon was the little start-up tune as Wilbur’s facial display opened his eyes and ejected him from his charging station. The small motors in his body whirred to life as Wilbur’s sensors looked around the kitchen before his vacuum descended and he began to roll.

Operative #1: At 5:00 am, vacuum the carpets and clean the hardwood

The little robot moved steadily throughout the little house, picking up dust bunnies and small crumbs left behind from the previous day--taking extra care to chase a stray dust bunny so as to leave the floors spotless and clean. 

Operative #2: At 5:30 am, dust the furniture and the stairway, be especially careful of the Master’s gun on the wall.

A feather duster deployed from the arm, separating itself out from the tools stored away in Wilbur’s little body, sweeping quickly over surfaces that were cleaned every morning. The maintenance went quick and yet the robot made sure to be thorough, knowing that the Old Man’s lungs struggled when dust got into the air--something not abnormal, according to Wilbur’s searching over his internet connection. The duster, as instructed, brushed lightly over the old wood and metal of the shotgun hung decoratively on the wall. An old thing, his processors reported, and easily capable of going off with the wrong change in environment. The Old Man always kept it loaded, and an accidental discharge would be a disastrous start to the day.

Operative #3: At 5:45am, unload the dishwasher and put the dishes away

Delicate movements and careful application of pressure had to be imparted on Wilbur’s side, pincers and mechanical body moving quickly and efficiently to unload the dishes from the machine and put them away without risking even a chip. Another arm sprouted from his back panel to join his front two with a rag during this, wiping each surface to ensure cleanliness and dryness before putting away the dishes. 

Operative #4: At 6:00am, prepare the Master’s tea and start the electric kettle. 

Wilbur’s sensors picked up on movement upstairs--the ringing of his Master’s morning alarm, at 6am sharp. An arm shot out to the side and flicked on the electric kettle, body whirling and spinning on their joints. Pincers delved into the tea bags on the counter, another arm sweeping the daily wooden mug across the counter and depositing the bag inside to await the boiling water.

Operative #5: Print the daily news and leave it at the head of the table.

Footsteps were coming down the stairs, Wilbur’s display screen rapidly reading and scanning the internet for the designated morning news feed and chest printing out and organizing the different papers swiftly as the old man rounded the corner, depositing them in front of him as he sat down and the kettle flipped off.

Operative #6: Pour the boiling water from the kettle into the tea cup and place it in front of the Master. 

The old man sat down in his chair, moving slowly and shakily as Wilbur set the cup in front of him and then remained still. Wilbur sat idle, waiting to hear if his Master had any further orders, his systems unable to continue their routine until the cup of tea was emptied. The old man’s hands found the top of Wilbur’s head, stroking wrinkled and thin fingers over the metal plating of his head, a weathered chuckle coughing its way out of his chest.

“One of the kiddos will take you in, I’m sure Wilbur.”

Wilbur responded back in a series of beeps, his code only able to communicate in 1s and 0s that other machines of his caliber understood and yet his master had never been able to. It didn’t seem to matter, as the old man only chuckled again and stroked once more.

“Make sure they don’t grieve me too long, little fella. They all have their own families to take care of. My will is upstairs in the folder, as well as the titles and bank account details. I’m sure John will be able to handle it.”

The old man started to lean back in his chair, weight shifting limply as Wilbur watched on, processors whirling as he watched his Master start to slump and lean, his mouth opening in an attempt to whisper something more, but growing still before any word could be spoken.

Wilbur waited by the tableside, process stuck in the center of his millions of lines of code, unable to move on to the ever important Operative #7 or even Operative #8 until the cup of tea, sitting and growing cold on the table, was emptied by his Master. A few minutes passed, the air still and the birds still singing with the rise of the morning sun, before Wilbur’s inherent self-learning protocols kicked in and allowed him to deviate from his morning processes. 

Wilbur’s display blinked before rebooting, then looking up at his Master’s slackened, peaceful face. His skin had grown cold, and his cheeks pale and nearly blue from loss of color. One of Wilbur’s sensors pressed against the pulse-point on the old man’s thin wrist, and after a moment received back the input that there was no indication of a heartbeat.

The robot whirred its gears as it processed the information, unsure of what to do. None of its processes had ever considered the possibility of death--in fact, beyond its definition, Wilbur the robot did not actually understand what death was. What Wilbur understood was that he could not properly move on with his dedicated tasks and services until his Master completed the step of drinking his tea in the morning. His job was to take care of the Master, and keep him healthy and alive. Wilbur made a little trilling noise as he let himself do a little spin--a trick the old man had taught him, and one that the robot had decided it rather enjoyed doing--and resolved himself to solving this new puzzle.

More sensors snaked their way up through his Master’s clothes, feeling for different signs of life in an effort to identify the problem while Wilbur’s processors raced to identify a solution, before his display turned to consider the dishwasher. Schematics of car engines, of pumping mechanisms moving fluids, filled Wilbur’s robotic head until it settled on a design. 

One of his arms swapped out to a circle-blade attachment, formally used to open packages but now finding its intended purpose to be expanded, and began to cut while Wilbur’s other arms started to pillage the dishwasher for the parts he would need. 

  The sun was setting when Wilbur carefully connected the last wire, the metal meshed into the flesh of the heart forcing it to pump. It took a few minutes, during which Wilbur watched on until the lungs started to fill and deflate with air, and the old man’s eyes opened. 

“What…?” the old man whispered, eyes glazed and skin starting to regain its color as his new metal heart pumped and his brain woke back up. Wilbur trilled in response, giving a little spin of celebration as he watched his Master shakily stand to his feet. 

“What…what did you do, Wilbur?” The old man stumbled, grasping at his open chest and dragging himself to the closest mirror to stare in horror at his open ribcage. 

Wilbur followed after him, processes already starting to calculate the time it would take to catch up on the rest of the day’s procedures before he would have to perform the ones for tomorrow. The old man moaned in horror as his wrinkled, shaking hands delved into his chest to touch the grafted metal, feeling flesh and tissue that had been dead hours before now pumping and breathing once more.

“This…this must be a nightmare,” the old man shook, hands grasping tighter at the heart, intelligent old eyes piecing together the wires and fingers carefully reaching up towards them, “or a test for what comes after death…that’s it, some sort of test, surely.” 

Wilbur chirruped again, picking up pots and pans and taking stock of what was in the pantry. While the rest of the schedule had been thrown off, at least dinner would still be on time at this rate--perhaps a pasta? Something hearty and caloric to get his Master’s body back in tip top shape. The little robot paused when he heard the sound of ripping flesh and moans of pain. Wilbur turned his display to take in the sight of the old man, hand buried deep into his chest, just in time to watch said hand pull the metal heart out of his chest with a fleshy rip. 

“Now…now finally I must move on? I must have passed…” the old man whispered, crumpling to the ground into the growing pile of blood and other bodily fluids. Wilbur’s sensors picked up quickly the sound of fading breath, processing the new inputs as the old man passed away on the floor. After a moment, the little robot put the pots and pans down and rolled over to look down at his Master’s body. Dinner would have to be a little late, it seemed. 

Mechanical arms flipped the body over to take in the damage--more ripped tubes, damage to the lungs, the metal heart could be salvaged and reused. The blood starting to coat Wilbur’s treads indicated that a new fluid would have to be procured for the sake of carrying oxygen--although at this rate, Wilbur’s online searching supplied, the brain would be deprived of oxygen for too long and then it would be all for naught. 

Articles and conspiracies of cryofreeze preservation filled Wilbur’s head, and the robot turned its display to inspect the state of the freezer. It would have to leave it untouched and find another machine to pillage parts from it seemed. 

The circular blade broke out again, this time spinning much faster as schematics of the density of the skull filled Wilbur’s screens and schematics started mapping out new designs for a breathing apparatus, blood, and perhaps now a protective casing to prevent user-error. The saw met the old man’s skull right as Wilbur let out a beeping trill, finally settling on the next idea to try. 

More parts of the dishwasher were used, some pipes pillaged from the plumbing and disinfected to prevent bacterial growth. Metal from the television, wires from the lighting. Some hinges from the kitchen cabinets and a piece of glass from the kitchen window was removed and put under extreme heat and pressure from the stovetop to force it to meld to a new shape. In the freezer, his Master’s brain sat in a cake-container to ensure freshness while the little robot worked. While Wilbur worked on his Master’s body, he set about adding useful attachments to himself as needed, pillaging from the workshop in the Master’s garage. Saws, wrenches, a soldering and welding tool, and more as sparks flew and a tube and bucket prevented any remaining blood from going to waste. A piece of metal was stolen from the Master’s car as well, to create a new skull cap to be placed on the Master’s head--metal and more protective, Wilbur’s processes supplied, meaning much more efficient and able to be opened back up again for later maintenance. All a part of his job. 

Finally, the plates were set in, the chest cavity closed and welded shut to prevent user-interference, and then the glass further reinforced. Forced electrical circulation through the body lead to a confirmation of function, test cases on Wilbur’s display popping up with little green check marks as his claws opened up the freezer and brought out the cake-container where the pinkish-gray organ sat slightly relaxed from the lack of structured containment around it. The top was pulled off, and Wilbur carefully gathered the organ up and deposited it into the skull cavity, delicate tools following in to connect in wires, running electric circuit up and through the flesh to seize it back into position as the soldering tool started melding bone and metal together. The tube and bucket holding the remaining blood received suction, the blood flowing back up through the tube and entering back into the body for recirculation, pushed along with the surges of electricity shocking through the system in order to force contraction of the muscles. 

The process took 10 minutes of electrical surging, the lights of the kitchen flickering and the smell of flesh starting to cook before the heart seized on its own accord, the lungs filled with air by themselves, and the eyes of the old man flew open as he gasped a desperate and wild breath of air. The old man surged forward over the table, Wilbur retracting his arms and letting out another happy trill and series of beeping as the old man gagged and gasped over the kitchen table. Having learned from prior errors and miscalculations, Wilbur raised his display to be in view of his Master and let text file over his screen. 

WELCOME BACK MASTER. WILBUR HAS TAKEN CARE OF YOU. 

PLEASE DRINK YOUR TEA.

 One of Wilbur’s arms pushed the mug forward, reheated over the stovetop and now bubbling once more with a new bag of fresh tea waiting. The old man’s wild eyes darted between the mug and the text over Wilbur’s display, complexion pale and green as his breathing strained.

“Back…back again? No, no this isn’t right Wilbur--this isn’t right!” The old man grasped at his chest, stiff fingertips scrabbling against the reinforced glass protecting his chest. He looked down, letting out moans of horror as he saw his new metal lungs and heart, a pressure meter situated inside to provide a measurement and reassurance of Wilbur’s handiwork. Sensing imminent misunderstanding, Wilbur beeped once more and cycled the text on his screen.

PLEASE REMAIN CALM, MASTER. 

YOUR SYSTEMS ARE STILL ADJUSTING TO THE STRESS OF MOVEMENT AND SUPPORTING YOUR VITAL SYSTEMS. 

PLEASE DRINK YOUR TEA.

“Oh blast the damn tea!” The old man howled, arm swinging wildly and sending the cup flying. It crashed into the wall, shattering over the counter as the man stood up and towered over Wilbur. The pressure meter was rising in his chest, heart and lungs pumping and straining with the immediate strain of supporting such rigorous activities. The old man pointed a shaking hand at Wilbur, rage and horror stretching the thinning skin on his face.

“What have you done to me, you fucking devil-machine?!” he whispered, voice hoarse and shaking as his eyes trailed along the walls of the torn-apart kitchen, eyes landing through the doorway into the sitting room where his prized shotgun sat on the wall. He tore past Wilbur, making his way to the sitting room while Wilbur whirred behind. 

I HAVE REPLACED YOUR FAILING ORGANS WITH MECHANICAL REPLICATIONS IN ORDER TO ENSURE CONTINUED OPERATION. 

PLEASE REMAIN CALM, AS SUDDEN SPIKES OF STRESS MAY CAUSE FAILURES IN YOUR SYSTEM.

The old man grabbed the shotgun from the wall, swinging around feverishly to point the barrel at Wilbur as the robot stopped short. The man trembled, Wilbur’s sensors picking up indications of fear and rage as the gun shook and creaked in his hands. 

“A devil-machine come to tempt me to Hell…well, see if you can replace me after this!” the old man grit his teeth, eyes closing and gun turning away from Wilbur to instead find its home in the old man’s mouth, thin and stiff fingers pulling the trigger. The gunshot rattled the frames on the wall, the bullet ripping through the metal plating at the top of the old man’s skull and pulling flesh and brain matter with it and splattering across Wilbur’s display. 

The robot’s little window-wiper attachment cleared his screen, smearing the blood and tissue until his display was clean, leaving his sensors to take in the crumpled body of his Master in front of him. There was major damage to the brain and spinal cord and skull, shards blasted apart and related organs effectively destroyed with very little remaining pieces of tissue. The chest organs were still intact luckily, and Wilbur’s systems searched rapidly for solutions as mops and sponges and attachments were deployed to save the remaining resources of blood and tissue from soaking into the carpet as he thought and took stock of what was still left in the house. 

Circuitry, Wilbur decided, would work well as a replacement for what was lost. Natural logic gates similar to the function of neurons and the brain stem, able to be programmed and reused for Wilbur’s purposes.  Replacing major unreliable portions of the brain that allowed violent stress responses would also be effective in maintaining longevity--the lesson further expanded upon as one of Wilbur’s arms picked up the gun and crushed the barrel. No risk to the Master would be tolerated, and the body would require significant proofing to prevent sabotage. The claws flung the gun to the corner of the room, instead looping under his Master’s limp body and pulling him back into the kitchen as next the computer in the neighboring study found itself the next target to be ripped apart and pillaged.   

The process of etching out new circuitry boards and building his Master’s new brain was time consuming, and often interrupted by calls from the children that Wilbur let ring, until he required an extra piece from the landline and pillaged the phone too. Finally, Wilbur connected the final wires and soldered them together with intense focus that could only come from a machine, connecting regions of the destroyed brain that had managed to be salvaged to the newly created circuitry system embedded in his Master’s head. It was a delicate system, one that would require care regarding the electrical input and balancing of the systems within his Master--a job that Wilbur was confident he could manage between his other usual tasks. He had even already set up the charging station for his Master, placing it right next to Wilbur’s own so that they could charge at the same time throughout the night. That way, Wilbur could maintain and regulate the electrical rates in his Master’s body and ensure no accidents occurred as long as there were no catastrophic fluctuations in power. 

Once again, system tests passed with all green checkmarks as Wilbur applied the new surges of electricity into his Master’s systems, flesh starting to char and blacken from rot and electrical heat. Finally, Wilbur’s sensors picked up on the slight twitches and creaks of movement and the voluntary pumping of the mechanical heart and lungs once more. The fans installed in the temples of the old man’s head began to whirl, providing ample venting to prevent overheating, and the metal teeth reinstalled to replace the ruined shards of what remained began to chatter. Finally, a strained groan and wheeze clawed its way from the old man’s throat as he began to tremble. 

Wilbur’s display switched to text, sitting in wait as the old man pushed himself up with a sob of dismay and agony, the moonlight illuminating lines of wiring and metal bolting under the skin as his body creaked and strained. 

WELCOME BACK MASTER. 

I HAVE FURTHER REPAIRED YOUR BODY TO REVERSE THE SELF-INFLICTED DAMAGES. 

YOU WILL NOW REQUIRE NIGHTLY CHARGING IN ORDER TO RESUME DAILY ACTIVITIES. THIS PROCESS WILL BE RELATIVELY PAINLESS.

His Master read his display slowly and pleadingly, voice coming out in a grating croak.

“Pl…ease Wilbur…please let me go…” 

Wilbur’s display stayed stagnant for a moment before reverting back to his standard display of a little smiley face, spinning in a small, joyful little circle at hearing his Master’s voice once more, before deploying arms to offer aid to his Master in hooking up to his new charging station--wires connected to the wall and hooked straight into the powersource that Wilbur’s own charging station used. 

I HAVE CONNECTED YOUR CHARGING SOURCE TO THE HELPERBOT.EXE CHARGING STATION IN ORDER TO ENSURE STABLE ELECTRICAL INPUT INTO YOUR SYSTEMS. HAVE NO WORRIES, MASTER, I WILL TAKE CARE OF YOU.

 The old man’s tired eyes flickered towards the docking station set up against the wall, taking in the plug-ins and pieces of metal that were measured and lined up to slot into the new holes drilled into his body. There was a slight crackling glow behind the bloodshot eyeballs, betraying the circuitry and processes whirring in the man’s head. After a moment the old man turned his head to look at Wilbur, fans whirring the longer and harder he thought. 

“Will you…be charging…with me, Wilbur?” the man spoke slowly, and with great effort, voice no louder than a whisper. 

IN ORDER TO ENSURE SAFETY DURING THE CHARGING PROCESS, WE WILL BE CHARGING SIMULTANEOUSLY.

 Something seemed to connect in the old man’s eyes, facial features attempting to twist against the restrictive metal in an emotion undetectable to the little robot. Wilbur’s processors read the attempted emotion as a sign of compliance. 

“Well then…hook me in boy”, the old man sighed, body slumping and struggling to hold himself up as the old man stood and then moved to sit in the docking station that Wilbur had welded from pieces of the car that had sat in the garage. It was wires and metal hooked up to a car battery, crackling with electricity as Wilbur started to settle himself into his own station right next to it, his wheels spinning to start inserting the metal rods into the points on the old man’s neck, ribcage, and thighs. The process caused a wince and small moan of pain to leave the old man’s tired body.

“Will I…sleep during this…Wilbur?” the old man rasped, and Wilbur’s display turned to be in view of him. 

UNFORTUNATELY, THE HUMAN PROCESS OF “SLEEP” COULD NOT BE ACHIEVED IN YOUR NEW CODING. WITH FURTHER UPDATES, IT WILL BE PATCHED.

 FOR NOW, ENTERTAINMENT HAS BEEN PROVIDED TO YOUR LEFT. 

And true to Wilbur’s display, to the left of the old man was a stack of his favorite books, ordered from favorite to least favorite based on Wilbur’s databases of information he has stored over the years of serving his Master. The old man let out a wheeze, although Wilbur’s sensors could not define its difference between amusement or grief, his display going dark and powering down as his internal computer started regulating and calculating the electricity flowing between their bodies. 

Several hours passed, and then Wilbur’s systems were jolted by a surge of electricity, a system error that quickly spiraled out of control and his docking station discharged him in order to protect his circuitry. Wilbur’s display turned to see the old man had torn wires from the car battery and dug further, into the wall that their stations were hooked into to access the electrical wires of the house itself. The body of the old man crackled and burned, smoke emanating from nostrils and the eyes as he howled and clung to the wires. Wilbur, systems frantically calculating different solutions, wheeled as fast as he could to the housing circuit breaker and pulled the lever to cut off the power. 

The house went dark, and after hearing the sound of a heavy thump and crash of metal, Wilbur flipped the breaker back on and wheeled back into the kitchen to look at the charred remains of his dear Master. The books that had been left out were torn to shreds, some papers caught on fire as they surrounded the blackened and smoking corpse of the old man. The frail fingers had been scratched down past the nail and to the bones, the evidence of frantic scratching and tearing at the walls seen in the claw marks carving through wallpaper, plaster, and wood. 

Very little of the body could be saved at this point, and Wilbur’s processes floundered for once at a solution that, even when his Master was recovered, would also prevent further user-error. Scouring databases, applying self-learning techniques, taking in different variables and applying different ideas all failed to connect until finally Wilbur’s systems singled out a final question, and then the solution. 

All he needed to do was ensure his Master could not move. 

Wilbur’s circular saw deployed out once more, grinding and blood stained from use, whirring to life as many, many arms deployed and ransacked the house for the materials that Wilbur would need to ensure that his Master could never harm himself again. 

The major machinery had been taken from the washer and dryer, circuit boards from all over the house repurposed to replace the fried brain, hinges from doors creating joints and sheets of metal becoming skin. Piping taken from the plumbing, wires from the house itself hooked into the back of the rotting torso and neck of his Master. The eyes had been melted, and were now replaced by visual sensors from the roomba, the tongue and teeth extracted and instead just a singular piping tube that handled both airways and food ingestion. His Master’s legs had been removed, shoulders re-socketed so that the arms would not be able to reach behind his back to the power lines or up towards the neck, and weight firmly bolted to ensure that his Master could not accidentally topple over and disconnect himself. Vocal chords had to be sacrificed to make room for piping and electrical wires, but instead were replaced with a morse-code system for future mechanical vocalization once the parts were obtained to complete it. The perfect solution, Wilbur’s processes decided, and he allowed himself a final spin in celebration as his Master’s systems booted up. As the fans whirled and his Master’s visual sensors formed the shape of eyes, Wilbur’s arms pushed the now-chipped mug of tea forward into his Master’s reach. 

Once more, Wilbur’s Master woke up--and this time he was sure there was nothing his Master could do to generate a user-error. Wilbur let out a beeping trill and wheeled around to where his Master would be able to see his display. 

WELCOME BACK MASTER, I HAVE REMOVED ALL CHANCES OF USER-GENERATED ERROR. THERE IS NOW NO RISK OF HARM. 

PLEASE ENJOY YOUR TEA. 

The virtual eyes glanced side to side before looking down at the repaired mug in front of him-- cracks filled in with soldered metal--before, like clockwork, the new metal arm reached out and took the handle of the cup and brought it to the Old Man’s lips. 

Wilbur’s systems relished in the completion of the daily task, and finally moved on in their code.

Operative #7: While the Master enjoys his tea, sweep the front porch.

The broom was taken, and Wilbur wheeled outside just in time to see a car pull up and the eldest child step out with a look of worry on his face. 

“Wilbur! Is Dad inside? He hasn’t been picking up his phone.” The eldest called, walking forward while Wilbur began to sweep. The man’s face twisted into confusion as he approached, seeing the splatters of dried blood over his metal body. 

“Wilbur? What’s all over you, boy?” Wilbur let out a little trill in response, display quickly spelling out: 

THE MASTER IS INSIDE ENJOYING HIS TEA. 

The eldest chuckled and shook his head, “Always gotta have his tea, huh? He can’t be in too bad a shape, then. Thanks for always looking after him, Wilbur.” 

Wilbur chirped in response, and went back to his sweeping while the eldest walked inside. The little robot paid no mind to the terrified screaming that erupted just seconds later, content in continuing to do his job. 

He let himself have one last little spin, congratulating himself on a job well done.

[tarottchotchkes]

How Christian is Christmas? NOT MUCH!

CHRISTMAS: A Christian festival, named after Christ’s mass, celebrating the birth of Jesus. Any fool knows that. Slightly more savvy people are aware that Christ wasn’t born in 1 AD and now that Christmas is actually a cleaned-up version of old rituals. But that’s not the half of it. In fact, Christmas is utterly Pagan.

For a start, there is no evidence that Jesus was born at Christmas. Shepherds would not have had their flocks out in the fields in midwinter, even in Palestine. Nor would the Romans have ordered a census in the winter, the most difficult time of the year for travelling.

 As for the twelve days of Christmas, that traditionally the time it took for the three wise men to arrive at the stable in Bethlehem. The fact is that the Roman celebrations around the winter solstice (December 21st), starting with the feast of Saturnalia and ending with the Sol Invictus festival also lasted twelve days. All over the world, the solstice is connected with rebirth, so it made sense for the early Christians to tag on their own ersatz birth-celebration to one that was already around.

 Or take Santa Claus. “Santa Claus” is “Saint Nicholas” mispronounced, and Saint Nick is the patron saint of children – as well as merchants and pawnbrokers, which seem rather apt. So how did Saint Nick, who lived in Turkey, end up at the North Pole, driving a sleigh full of reindeer?

 It’s claimed that part of the story goes back to the Norse god Odin, who also gave cash to the poor, and who used to ride across the sky. And there’s Cernunnos, the Horned God who led the Wild Hunt, chasing souls through the night sky. Or Freya, another Norse deity, who was supposed to spend the twelve days after the winter solstice driving a chariot pulled by stags, giving presents to the good and punishing the naughty. Whichever of the ancient legends you choose one thing’s for sure: Father Christmas is as Pagan as they come!

 He first appeared as a fat bearded bloke in a fur coat in a poem written in 1822 by Clement Clark Moore and a picture drawn by Thomas Nast in 1860 – up to then he’d been anything from a skinny elf to a thinly-disguised version of Cernunnos dressed in green. When in 1931 the Coca-Cola company wanted a figure to represent their drink around the world, they commissioned artist Haddon Sunblum to paint a fat, jolly, human Santa in their corporate colors of red and white, and the rest is history (and marketing).

 But red and white is also the color of the fly agaric mushroom, a powerful hallucinogen from northern Europe, where it is the favorite food of reindeer. It used to be a big part of pre-Christian shamanic rituals, and was said to have been formed from the specks of blood and spittle that fell from the mouth of Odin’s horse as he galloped on (TA daaaa!) the winter solstice! And Christmas poet Clement Moore was an expert on European folklore. That’s no coincidence. [Is that where the flying reindeer come from? – John]

Christmas was never a celebration of Christ’s birth – there’s nothing in the Bible to say that Christ’s birth should be celebrated at all, and it wasn’t until 375 AD that the Church fixed it’s date. Instead, it was a way of twisting old beliefs to Christianity’s advantage, making more converts for what was then the new faith on the block. Roman historians realized this: in 230 AD Tertullian wondered why the Christians were so willing to dilute their beliefs with Pagan “superstitions”.

 MISTLETOE: Has no Christian significance. It’s an ancient Druid fertility symbol, and people used to do a lot more than kiss under it.

 HOLLY: Supposedly something to do with Christ’s crown of thorns. But in fact a lot more to do with the god Saturn and the old Pagan Holly King.

 CHRISTMAS TREES: Evergreen trees were a potent symbol of life in the dark winter days. Decorating them was a way of making offerings top the tree’s spirit.

 PRESENTS: From the Roman feast of Saturnalia, integrated into Christmas in 375 AD when the church first set Christ’s birthday as December 25th.

 YULE LOGS: A Scandinavian tradition, where an oak log was kept burning for 12 days, and a piece of it saved to light the next year’s log. “Yule” is named after Ullr, the Norse god of winter.

 BOOZE: The old Greeks celebrated the death and rebirth of Dionysus, the god of wine and wild revelry, for 12 days at the winter solstice. Dionysus’s parents were Zeus and Hera. When the Titans killed him, he was brought back to life and ascended Mount Olympus.

                                                 Remind you of anyone?

[victorluvsalice]

So I wasn’t able to actually PLAY my Chill Save this past weekend, thanks to not having the majority of my mods cleared for the new patch -- so instead I hit Granite Falls in my building save and decided to upgrade one of the cabin lots there for my Valicer trio! (You know, via giving it a makeover and then saving it to my Library to be slotted into the actual Chill Save later.) Ended up choosing “Green Getaway,” since I figured they didn’t need a huge place (especially since only ONE of them needs a bed to sleep in now). I made the following improvements:

-->First of all, the outside is actually green now. XD I actually chose that completely at random because I wanted just to make it something other than brown -- it wasn’t until I was renaming the lot that I realized “Oh, huh, that was apt.” XD Missed the back stairs, but eh, that’s the back, no big deal. (And if I really want I can fix it when I put it into the Chill Save.)

-->I also made the inside more colorful -- the main living space has yellow walls now, and the bathroom is blue with a STONE floor because I felt that was smarter than hardwood.

-->Changed the games table on the front porch to the nicer wood “Don’t Wake The Llama” one (I believe from Parenthood), as I thought that fit better than the base game one.

-->Gave the house a proper mini-kitchen! Pretty much all of it apart from the sink, paper towels, dish drainer, fire alarm, and bin are from Cottage Living, as I felt that fit the aesthetic.

-->Upgraded the couch from a two-seater to a three-seater, and upgraded the TV to match.

-->As this necessitated getting rid of one of the lights, I also upgraded all the hanging lamps in the house to brighter Cottage Living ones.

-->Changed out the bookcase and dining table for nicer ones/ones I felt fit the cabin better, added more dining chairs (Smiler may not need to eat, but I do intend for them to take their laptop on this jaunt), and rearranged decorative items so that they’re all visible with walls cutaway.

-->Also added curtains! From Cats & Dogs if I recall correctly. Just makes the living room look a little nicer. Bathroom got a shade, though I don’t recall the pack.

-->Added the little gramophone radio and an end table for it to sit on (finding one that it WOULD sit on was a task and a half, though!)

-->Moved the cool little corkboard with its pre-placed postcards into the bedroom; also changed the bed to the Rustic Dream bed (or whatever it’s called) that you unlock when you max out the “Patron of the Arts” branch of the Artist career. This is the bed Alice will be unlocking soon, so I figured I’d let her and Victor try it out. :p

-->Rearranged the bathroom so I could fit in a proper shower/tub combo and some better towels (another task and a half to find ones that looked good!).

-->Added a third log seat to the campfire; a third folding chair seat to the cooler sitting area (and replaced the log seat serving as a “table” with an actual log table); and a couple of counters beside the barbecue with appropriate decorative items. Oh, and changed the mailbox to the Werewolves one and the bin to -- don’t recall if base game or from Outdoor Retreat, but it looked better than the standard plastic one!

-->Added the new Werewolves telescope and a water balloon bucket for more activities!

-->Added lot traits -- Sunny Aspect (because it’s a pretty forest); Peace & Quiet (because it’s out in the middle of nowhere and should be pretty chill); Natural Lighting (because it should be a good place to get more pictures for the nonexistent photo album XD).

I think it came out pretty nice -- and it should serve as a nice base of operations for Victor, Alice, and Smiler’s vacation. And, if you agree, since I did this without my mods and CC installed, I put it up on the Gallery! It’s called “Green Getaway Makeover,” under username AliceNVictor. :) Hope you enjoy!

[lifencolorswallpaper]

Buy best Indian wallpaper design for home decor

Best Indian Wallpaper Designs to Elevate Your Home Decor”

Introduction

Understanding Indian Wallpaper Designs:

Indian wallpaper designs are intricate, with bold colors and a combination of tradition and modernity. From classic motifs like paisleys and florals to geometric patterns in modern tastes, options are aplenty. Here are some design considerations for choosing an Indian wallpaper design: Color Scheme: Indian wallpapers are normally made in vibrant colors like red, orange, yellow, and green. You can choose any wallpaper for wall design that would complement the existing color scheme or create a bold contrast with it.

Pattern: Find a design that shows your style, classic floral or modern geometrical.

Material: Consider what your wallpaper is made of. Some of the materials used include paper, vinyl, and non-woven. Each of these materials has its advantages and disadvantages.

Top Indian Wallpaper Designs for Home Decor:

Paisley Prints: Paisley prints are one of those eternal Indian motifs that never grow out of fashion. Intricate in design, these carry teardrop shapes and appear quite frequently side by side with bold colors.

Floral Patterns: Flowers are one of those patterns that have a run in Indian designs. You can either choose to stick with the traditional floral pattern or go for the revamped version of your classic motif.

One of the most in-demand designs of modern Indian houses involves geometrical patterns. These designs boast of bold shapes and colors, giving an air of sophistication to any room.

Mughal-inspired designs indeed prove that India has an enriched culture. These designs boast intricate patterns, arches, and domes that tend to give any room a regal ambiance.

Tips to Choose the Best Indian Wallpaper Design:

Consider the Room’s Purpose: First of all, choose a design keeping in view the purpose of the room. You might want something bold to adorn your living room while something lighter should be apt for the bedroom.

Consider the Lighting: Think about the kind of lighting that occurs within the room and how it will affect or influence the design of the wallpaper. While a brightly colored design might look brilliant in a well-lit room, it could be entirely unsuitable in a room that does not have natural light coming into it.

Don’t Forget About Texture: Indian wallpaper designs require texture above everything else, so you must select designs that have a textured finish to make the room highly interesting and three-dimensional.

Conclusion:

Finding the best design of Indian wallpaper for the interior decoration of your home can be cumbersome, but with these few design ideas and tips, you’ll bring out an excellent and unique space in your home. Now remember the color scheme and pattern of the design with the type of material while choosing, and have fun playing around with style and texture. If you choose the right Indian wallpaper design, then you can upgrade your home decor and make it truly yours.