#interior colour schemes grey

[ghettogirly]

Hey, hope you're doing fine. Can I request something when Armando has to watch over the reader because she knows something about the cartel , she sees things you should have not seen , wrong place , wrong time for her. Even though they always argue, she knows that he always protects her. She does the same for him.

Kinda relates to a 'pieces of her ' on Netflix 😭 when they were in that hotel room

Him and I - g easy

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇 (𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐂)

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-> synopsis: Miyah has a past that not even she knows about. Thinking her life was all normal, she is suddenly thrown into a whirlwind when an intruder breaks into her house. Are we prepared for her journey of not only finding herself but the answers to her past?

-> format: story.

-> theme: angst.

-> warning: mentions of violence, use of the n-word, mature language, themes of break-ins.

-> authors note: so i have turned this into a series!! i really want to write the pieces of her plot because i loved that show, but in a different type of way! thank you for requesting this! my update schedule is going to slightly change guys due to me getting more of an intense workload from my sixth form so i hope you all understand! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝💕.

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𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐍.

Trash clinked across the floor as a gust of wind swept it by. Desolate and quiet, only a couple cars were parked in the large space. A dark no

Heels were heard clacking off the floor as a brown skinned girl walked over to her car, clutching her purse with one hand while the other was angled in the direction of her mercedes benz. Opening the car door, she climbed into her seat.

Plopping the chanel bag that wrapped around her arm onto the passenger seat, the woman clicked her tongue while turning on the ignition. Settling into the seat, sighing as she recollected the hectic day that occurred.

“I really need to get home.”

Pressing onto the gas pedal while putting the gear stick into reverse, Miyah pulled out of the car park from her work place onto the highway. Flicking the headlights on, she started to drive down the road. The hum of the tyres mixed with the slow jam of the radio, lowly playing throughout the vehicle. Pink LED lights illuminated the interior of the car contrasting with the midnight black sky, coating the exterior as it hung over the trees and the wildlife surrounding the road.

The small screen of the navigation shone brightly in the woman’s face as she glanced down at it.

“15 minutes.”

Driving down the road, Miyah nodded her head to the slow beat of the rnb song playing through her sound system. Tapping her index finger onto the wheel she drove down the highway, content with her life currently. Life was hectic but she was satisfied.

Pulling into her gated residence, Miyah rolled down her window to enter the code into the pad. Once confirmed, she parked up her car at the front of her door before slipping out, grabbing her purse.

Opening her door, the hallway and living room was automatically irradiated by the modern lights that hung off her ceilings. Cylindrical pillars stood at every sharp corner, contrasting a classic element with the modern theme of her white and black marble interior.

Slipping off her heels, Miyah sighed in relief. “I really need to go to sleep.”

Shaking her head, she ascended up her stairs into her bedroom. A queen sized bed layered with fluffy comforts and duvets were placed in the middle of the woman’s bedroom. The colour scheme being white and grey , matching with the fluffy, white, circular carpet that was under it. Walking over to the bed, she placed her bag by her cabinet before flopping down on the bed.

“Why did i even become a lawyer again?”

That was a good question.

Why did she become a lawyer?

When thinking about society and the world today, you would think that the law reached everyone. Helped victims by putting away those who made their life hell but, we are wrong. Everyday, domestic abuse cases go silent, the justice system not caring enough for those who get abused in the relationships. Mainly women but also men becoming apart of the statistic of abuse victims, which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened. Child abuse cases go unheard until the severity of the abuse ends up in a death, which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened. Even random spree attacks which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened and understood that persons mental health.

I wanted to be the one to change this. To be able to keep law on track with the fast pace of the ever changing world. To be able to stand up for people who looked like me and those who were me.

And also for you mom.

Changing into her silk pyjamas, Miyah sat on her bed cross legged with her ipad on a stand. Parting her honey brown hair into 6 boxes with a rat tail comb, she braided two plaits in each section, ready to go to bed. Slipping her black bonnet on top of the loose braids, wanting to protect her curls from future breakage.

The girl pulled down her light, turning it off before getting underneath the covers. Closing her iPad, she sunk her head into the silk pillows that happily embraced her, closing her eyes.

It was pitch black in Miyah’s room. Not a shred of light peeked through her curtains. Stirring, she sat up. Glancing over at her alarm clock, the red bold numbers stating 3:32am. Sighing, she got out of bed, putting on her fluffy slippers.

Walking down the stairs she flicked the kitchen lights on, changing the settings to dim, not wanting to fully wake herself up. Grabbing a glass, she filled it up with water before taking a sip. Sighing, Miyah popped the now used glass, back into the sink before heading towards the stairs.

Something stopped her.

A rustle was heard from the living room next door. Slowly crawling into the kitchen, Miyah slightly opened the drawer for the utensils before grabbing a sharp knife. Peeking around the counter a black figure appeared before her.

“Who are-“

Wasting no time, the figure quickly punched Miyah causing her to stumble back. Throwing another punch to her chest, the figure then raised their fist, angling it towards a certain direction before throwing another. It was pretty clear they were male. Adrenaline ran through Miyah’s glands which secreted them into her bloodstream, activating her fight or flight.

Dodging the fist that was coming her way, she ducked and kicked the male in his balls before quickly running up the stairs. Loud banging was heard from within the room due to the stomps coming from the woman. just before reaching her bedroom a hand grabbed her ankles, brutally dropping her down on the marble floor.

“Fuck!! Get off me!”

The mystery man then swiftly got on top of Miyah, wrapping his rough hands around her neck before harshly gripping it. Pain and frustration overcoming the poor girl

“Stop..”

Pressing down onto her neck mired the man added more pressure, forcing less and less oxygen to not enter the girls body. Miyah’s muscles started to become frail as less oxygen was reaching the muscles, building more lactic acid causing them to become tired.

Slowly, her life began to slip away.

Her mind flashed to a deserted beach. The blue crystalline waves crashed against each other, slowly overlapping one another. The sky transitioned from a purple to orange ombré as the sun was setting, the orange rays shining onto the brownskin girl that stood there in the middle of the beach. Her curls waved in the wind due to the gentle breeze coming from the west.

A gentle tap was felt on Miyah’s shoulder, causing her turn around.

“It’s not your time.” The figure said before disappearing.

Suddenly, she was back in the present. Still feeling the man strangling her, a surge of strength powered suddenly came through.

Grabbing the nearest plant pot, she cracked it over the intruders head causing him to stumble back in pain. Gasping for air, Miyah panted heavily.

Yet, the man was still not done. Stomping over to her, he attempted to kick Miyah who was on the floor, out of breath. “Nigga, what- the fuck- is your issue?”

Quickly sliding out of the way, Miyah grabbed the man’s leg causing him to fall onto the floor, before grabbing a picture frame off the wall and violently smashing it off the intruders head, knocking the consciousness out of him.

“That’s what you get bitch.”

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[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @thedarkworldofhananerea @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @armandosbabymama @tyneshaaa @dyttomori @5tarlan7 @deadpool15 @yeahnohoneybye @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @sarcasticbitchsblog

[ellieluvr420]

We meet again, darling pt.9 (detective Abby Anderson x criminal reader)

Synopsis: Abby Anderson is a skilled detective that's never let a criminal escape her grasp, until you. You've infiltrated every part of her life and she still can't get you. As she grows more and more intrigued by you she finds herself descending further into darkness until there's no way back. She takes your hand and follows you as if your presence is the only thing giving her life knowing that you are the most dangerous thing for her. Her life will never be hers again and she will stop at nothing to keep following you down your path of corruption.

SMUT, mdni please xox

After you had kicked Abby out Saturday morning, she spent basically her whole weekend in bed. She had been so anxious about Ellie, you, her job, everything, she felt sick to her stomach. It was Sunday evening when you knocked on her door.

"So you do know how to knock?"

"I knew you were in and I didn't want to reveal how I get in when you aren't."

"Right."

"You going to help me out and let me in or leave me standing out here all night?" You were holding Abby's suit which you had had dry cleaned, some takeout and your bag, you were sure you had about 2 minutes before everything crashed to the floor.

"Sorry." She opens the door and grabs the suit and takeout from you before stepping aside to let you in. She kicks the door shut behind you and puts the suit down to lock the door. "You brought food?"

"Yeah I figured you might want a taste of the outside world since I've had you cooped up for the weekend. If you're good I might take you on a walk later." She can't see your face but she knows you're smiling to yourself.

"You're hilarious. Food smells good though, thank you."

"It's okay." You sit down on her couch and wait for her to join you with the food. As you're waiting you look around the room. The walls were a bright off white colour and there was a warm light lamp with a simple grey shade standing in the corner next to the tv on the opposite wall to where the couch sits. She had a black wooden coffee table in front of the couch with a grey rug that matched the lamp. The couch was comfortable, squishy and black with grey accent cushions. You expected the monotone colour scheme from her really but you did notice the plants and decorations that added colour to the room. Her apartment was nice, clean and homey, you felt comfortable there.

"You judging my interior design?"

"The opposite actually, I had never really noticed it but your apartments very nice."

"Oh, thanks." You nod and start ripping open the takeout bag and laying all the food on the table. You waste no time in digging in as between all of the things you've had to do over the weekend you haven't had a chance to eat a proper meal since your dinner with Abby.

"Holy fuck this is good." Abby sighs and leans back as she continues eating.

"Mhmm" You agree through a mouth full of food. She chuckles at you and you laugh with her but you decide now is the time to address the elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry for blowing up at you like that yesterday."

"It's okay, really."

"No please let me finish, I planned my speech and everything." Abby nods her head, signalling you to continue. "I panicked. I'm used to hiccups, that's life. But I'm not used to hiccups involving the cops and it scared me. Regardless, accidents happen and I know you weren't being careless, I forget that not everyone is used to how careful you have to be with these things so I hold everyone to my standard and that isn't fair on you. So I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

Abby stays quiet for some time, pretending to contemplate whether she should until she smiles and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. "You know for a second there you actually seemed human."

"Don't insult me." Your words came out muffled as she is still firmly holding you to her chest. You slap her shoulder as you start struggling to breathe. She laughs and lets you go. "But Abby, this cannot happen again. I dealt with the problem this time but it might not be so easy to fix next time. I mean I don't even know for sure if the problems fixed. Depends how smart your little friend is."

"Williams? What do you mean?"

"I paid her a visit."

"Andddd?"

"I didn't hurt her. Just threatened everyone that she loves and paid her for her silence."

"Oh my god."

"What?! It had to be done."

"So she knows about all of this?" She points a finger between you two.

"Errr not exactly. She knows we're... associates and that you're working for me but she doesn't know what we're doing, although I'm sure it won't take her long to figure it out when we start mission take over." Abby rolls her eyes at the use of the name and then raises an eyebrow.

"I work for you? I thought we were partners."

"I don't have partners, Abby. But if I did you'd be pretty close."

"Gee, thanks."

"That was a compliment darling."

"Your compliments don't often sound like compliments." She leans into you, looking you up and down and stopping to stare at your lips.

"I can only be so nice." You lean in further, tucking a piece of hair behind Abby's ear as your other hand threads its way through her soft, blonde waves, tugging a little. Abby presses her lips to yours in a sweet kiss that soon turns hungry and rough as she slips her tongue in your mouth to dance with yours. She tugs on the top of your thigh to pull you down as she climbs on top of you while pressing a strong thigh to your core. You close your legs around it and immediately start grinding down into it. Tonight is nothing like Friday night, its rushed and filled with need instead of want. You're both consuming each other as all the pent up emotions are released through your touches.

"Fuck this. I need more room for what I'm about to do to you." Abby's voice is low and raspy, it leaves you so entranced you don't feel her strong arms wrapping around your waist and under your bum as she hoists you up to carry you to her bed. As she reaches the foot of her bed, she throws you down with enough force that you bounce a little. "Strip."

"Make me." She had turned her attention away from you but the look she gave you as she whipped her head around was enough to make you comply. She chuckled at your reaction and said over her shoulder. "Good girl." You roll your eyes knowing she can't see and continue stripping. As you sit on the bed waiting for her you watch her strip her clothes off painfully slowly still facing away from you. You take a second to admire the firm curve of her muscley ass and thighs as you see her fitting a harness around her hips. You gulp knowing what's to come and lick your lips at the sight of her back profile and the way each muscle contracts and relaxes with each movement. She turns and your mouth falls open at the sight of the red appendage strapped to her hips.

"Don't worry, it's new, saw the colour and thought of you."

"How sweet." Your face is deadpan but in a weird way your heart swells at her words. "I don't think that thing is going to fit inside of me. That is a monster dick."

"Oh I'll make it fit. On your knees, hands behind your back and face the back wall." You whimper a little at her words but move quickly to listen to her. You hear a metallic clanking and before you have time to react you feel handcuffs being attached to your wrists.

"Woah Abby."

"Tell me you want me to stop." You huff and stay silent. "That's what I thought." She runs her hands down your back and squeezes each cheek hard enough to leave a bruise then one hands laces itself into your hair and starts pushing you forward while the other presses on your upper back to arch you as much as possible. "You are unreal." Your face is being pushed into her pillows and she knows that, so she doesn't expect a reply. You hear the sound of her spitting into her hand and your crane your neck inwards to see her lubing up the strap on. "I know you don't need this, you're already dripping but I thought I'd be nice. Don't get used to it though." She lands one harsh slap to your pussy and laughs as you jolt and moan and with a faux, sweet, sympathetic tone she says "You tell me if you need to stop okay?" She was mocking you but you knew she meant it as you made eye contact.

At the feel of her slowly easing the dick into you, you moan and push back onto her "Oh fuck," you've never felt this full before, it makes you feel like the airs been knocked out of you. As she bottoms out, you sigh and she lets you get used to the size for a minute. You're shocked as it doesn't match her previous demeanour but when she pulls out and starts drilling you into the bed you understand why she did that. You bury your face into the pillow to stop yourself from screaming but she doesn't like that at all. She pulls you up by your hair and then wraps an arm around your neck and grabs and squeezes your boob with the other. She's kissing your neck, your shoulder blades, anywhere she can and then she leans her head on your shoulder and bites down, hard. You gasp at the feeling of her licking the wound. She grabs your face with the hand that had been squeezing your boob and brings you in for a desperate kiss. You can taste your blood on her tongue and you groan into her mouth. You can barely breathe from all the ecstasy you're feeling but you manage to rasp out: "You're just as fucked up and insane as me, doll, you can't deny it," she growls at your statement and grabs at your chin with the hand of the arm that had been round your neck, you gasp only to feel her middle and ring finger being shoved into your mouth so hard you gag.

You whine and cry around her fingers as you feel yourself getting close. You lean your head back on her shoulder and she plants small kisses on your cheek and temple. "You close love?" You nod as your eyes fall shut until you feel her other hand that's unoccupied snaking down to rub tight fast circles on your clit. You screamed around her fingers as tears fell down your cheeks and you came so hard you thought you died for a second. She keeps pumping in and out of you slowing down to a stop. She lowers you gently down to the bed and kisses a line down your back. "I'm gonna pull out." She pulls out quickly get gently and discards of the strap. You feel her weight shift as she grabs the keys for the handcuffs and undoes them . She rubs each wrist gently and leans down to press a kiss to both afterwards. She lays down next to you and brushes your hair out of your face and laughs as she sees your giddy smile and tired eyes. "You okay?"

"Mhm all good."

"You gotta get up and pee."

"No." You slam your face down into the bed and take no notice of Abby standing up until you feel her large hands grabbing your hips and lifting you up. "No, no, no." You claw at the bed but it's no use. She plops you on your feet and keeps her hands on your hips

"Come on, you know I'm doing you a favour." You huff and walk off to the ensuite as she goes to the kitchen to get some water for you both. When you walk in she's already laying in bed and you climb on top of her and entangle your legs with hers. You lay a hand on her chest without a word.

"Do I want to know what happened to your hand?"

Your eyes are closed and you look asleep but you reply quietly and bluntly. "I killed Luke."

"Oh."

"It had to be done."

"Yeah I know. Was it hard?"

"No. He screamed and cried like a little bitch but I expected nothing less. It doesn't make it harder for me, it does Johnny, but not me. I like it when they fight."

Abby strokes your hair and realises she didn't even have a reaction to what you just said. She didn't care, she didn't feel sorry for Luke, she didn't feel scared of you. She only cared that you were back in her arms. You both fell asleep together and for the first night since Dan she didn't have any nightmares. She slept soundly holding the monster she should be having nightmares about.

[homunculus-argument]

It's almost no longer funny how colourless scandinavian interior design minimalism plagues our household. We have no furniture that isn't black, white or shades of grey purely because the goodwill has never had the kind of things we'd need and the stores don't have anything else. Save for my boyfriend's computer chair - which was office stock surplus - and a few pictures I haven't hung up on the wall, the only colour in the room which isn't random floor/table clutter are the pale beige cupboard doors, and they were here when we moved in.

Like I don't mind the colour scheme or aesthetic all that much, but the apartment's aesthetic really looks insanely strictly cultivated when in reality the way it is that way is because of the lack of other options. Even our fridge magnets are metallic grey in minimalistic shapes because those were the only type sold in the only place that had fridge magnets at all. Our home looks like it was furnished this way as a deliberate choice.

[sillyfanatic]

Opposites attract

Hiiii everyone, happy holidays!!! For those of you who like castlevania, here's some smut <3 Minors DNI i dont want to see anyone under 18 interacting with this fic.

This fic is directly inspired by 'first sip of early spring' by tragic performer on AO3, read it here. (And read it before you read my little fic <3)

p.s; if you're not a part of this fandom and / or don't like smut, no need to interact with this :3

click here to read this fic on ao3!!!! ooooo

(wc; 6313)

-

Trevor had not been keen on Alucard’s invitation – it wasn’t the proposition itself, nor the person who offered it that uneased him, no, it was something else, it was, it was…

It was because they’d finished their mission, fulfilled their purpose – and was it not supposed to be over, now? Was this partnership – if you could call it that –finished?

Should they be parting ways? Shouldn’t they be?...

He wanted to. More than anything, he wanted to leave – there’d been an itch in his legs for months now, a pulling sensation in his chest that pleaded him to turn tail and run, to be the coward he’d always been.

God, he wanted to.

But now? Now, he felt closer to death than ever before. It was a dreary feeling; an aching in your bones, sharp pains accompanying your every breath. It was sore muscles and the inability to feel your limbs properly, and a question floating in the back of his mind; had living always felt this dreadful? He was not sure he could recall.

There was a dull sensation in his head that’d been there for a while now – an overwhelming tiredness, a mix of despair and exhaustion, the kind you only had the misfortune to feel in that moment after the near-death adrenaline wore off.

It’s why the sight of the guest bedroom was almost enough to make him weep (if he could remember how to do so; he might have let himself.)

There was a bed. It’s all he could focus on now. A bed. The kind of bed fit for a castle, for God’s sake.

“Belmont?” The voice besides him managed to captivate his attention again, and as he turned to his right, he was met with the face of an acquaintance. Those piercing eyes, the kind that lived a life so different from Trevor’s. It sent a chill down his spine – or perhaps, was that the result of all the blood he’d lost?

“Yes?” He found himself replying rathe dryly. Bed, bed, bed, bed. It was the only word spinning around in his mind, an undeniable desire that grew thicker as the seconds passed him by.

It was offered again. “You could stay the night, if you’d like.” The voice was far too quiet and faraway this time.

What happened to leaving? What happened to running away?

Those ideas were far, far away.

And so, he turned to look at the bed again, nodding quietly.

Please. He’d beg if his body allowed him to.

It wasn’t long before he found himself alone, alone in an unfamiliar room, with soft sheets and pillows plusher than he’d ever felt before. There was a small fire whispering in the hearth of the fireplace, and he certainly did not remember the last time he’d felt so warm.

He tumbled into unconsciousness in between blinks, succumbing to the fatigue that wore him down.

-

Trevor had always been aware of the size of Dracula’s castle, from distant childhood memories to stories spread from one village to another, each re-telling seemingly more dramatic than the last. Seeing it up close had put the stories and rumours to shame, for the castle was much more imposing than words could allow.

It’s black structure – a material he could not identify – extended for miles in every direction, stylistically slashing through the inky sky. Describing it as ‘imposing’ felt like an injustice to its menace. The thing looked alive, ready to swallow any who dared to trespass.

And that was from the outside; the interior was beyond ridiculous. The stylistic choices mirrored those of the outdoors, a black and grey colour scheme with the occasional pop or red and purple, if you looked close enough to find it.

It was pretentious, to say the least.

Much too large for the both of them, Trevor wondered how Dracula had managed to live by himself for so long without going insane (ignoring the fact that he very much did go insane, albeit from different circumstances.)

Empty hallways stretched for miles, forgotten rooms with forgotten functionalities plagued the castle. There were stairways leading to nowhere, and doors that faced a brick wall.

Trevor felt as though this worked in his favour, figured the odd architectural choices, and the sheer massiveness of the place were enough to keep the two of them apart. They wouldn’t have to see each other, and by morning he’d be gone, no goodbyes or lingering glances.

Just a cold exit – his favourite way to go.

It was a fine plan; he could maybe go so far as to say it was a good one. It worked in his favor, he didn’t want the dry conversation Alucard provided, did not care for it.

They weren’t friends. Conversations were for friends, pleasantries and stories were for friends. And they aren’t friends. Nor are they enemies – they are strangers that could no longer be so. Fate had decided to acquaint them, had decided to meddle in their personal lives, and now Trevor was trapped with an obnoxious vampire roaming around in his head when he should be focused on tomorrow, or on anything else, really.

It would come to surprise him, how quickly he’d given into his own exhaustion. It was unlike him to be unconscious in a stranger’s home. Trevor had found himself asleep in strange areas before; fields, dumps, random piles of hay, underneath a tree in the forest- but never in another’s home. He’d not allowed himself to be that vulnerable before.

Not only was he sleeping in someone else’s home tonight, but he was sleeping in fucking Dracula’s castle. He was a vampire’s guest.

If Trevor had not been so exhausted, he would’ve been far from this place. Now, he was unwilling to listen to the instincts that told him never to sleep in a vampire’s home – instincts that were most likely genetic as well as learnt, and ignoring them would surely disappoint his mother.

But she wasn’t here, was she?

And so, against all better judgment, the vampire hunter slept in the nest of the beast, wrapped in satin and surrounded by duck feathers. The smoky smell of the fire lulling the man into a deeper slumber than he’d had in months, or perhaps even years, at this point.

It was a dreamless sleep, the kind of sleep where your body melts into the mattress, where consciousness feels like a concept you’d only briefly known, a long, long, time ago.

And like all the good things in a Belmont’s life, it was over much too soon.

“You’re awake.” The remark was quiet.

He should’ve jumped, shouted, reacted in any alarming way, like a normal person would be. He should’ve been scared at the suddenness of the other’s presence – but he could not find it in himself to do so.

“Do you always watch your guests sleep?” He replied tiredly, opening his eyes to stare at the source of the disturbance in the room.

And there he was, in all his glory, leaning so effortlessly against the wall of the bedroom. Simply existing, and yet Trevor felt his blood beginning to boil as he rose from his sleeping form, letting the sheets tumble away from his bare chest.

He was unusually warm, he noted, though he only bore his trousers from the other day. A quick glance to the fireplace showed a bright flame dancing in the silence, one that had been nurtured in his sleep.

“Not always.” Alucard replied, unmoving. The hunter could not decipher if this was meant to be humour or not – it was rare that the half-vampire allowed his façade to slip enough to make pleasantries.

A silence settled between them as Trevor stood reluctantly, stretching the muscles that ached in the aftermath of yesterday’s combat, and of the weeks of travel preceding it.

And then he noted something truly odd – apart from the orange glow of the fire, the room was plunged in darkness, a moonless night staring down at him from upon the large windows.

And as if he could read minds (Trevor had yet to fact-check this about vampires), Adrian spoke again; “You were asleep for three days, you know?”

The man turned towards the other then, observing him with furrowed brows.

“What?” He questioned, feeling a sense of overwhelming disorganization flooding his mind.

Alucard was the opposite of this, calm as he spoke; “It’s been three days since we’ve last spoken.” It was said as though it was obvious, or common, to which it was neither. It didn’t feel like he slept for that long, given how tired he still was, and it sure as hell wasn’t a weekly occurrence. “You’ve slept for a long time.” The half-vampire remarked casually as he pushed himself off the wall, approaching his guest with soft steps.

There was a certain familiarity in this closeness they now shared, a warmth that the Belmont dismissed as something else entirely.

“Why did you let me stay?” He mumbled, crossing his arms against his bare chest. The gesture made Adrien’s eyes flicker downwards, a small smile appearing on his pale face.

“Now, now, you wouldn’t think of me as cruel, would you?” He spoke coyly, tilting his head to the side in a manner that was far too endearing.

“Hmph.” Trevor squinted, unamused.

Alucard simply huffed a small laugh, patting the other’s cheek with his hand.

“Come now, I’ve made dinner.” He spoke, turning on his heels to head outside of the door.

Trevor did not follow, eyeing the other man as he stood still.

He was supposed to be far away by now, getting drunk in the tavern of a nearby village and running his mouth off, not here, half naked, being invited to dine with someone he’d really rather never speak to again.

“What, not hungry?” Adrian teased from the open door, that sly smile sneaking itself onto his pale features once again. Trevor’s stomach felt fuzzy at the sight – perhaps he was beginning to feel dizziness from his hunger.

With a sigh, and against his better judgment, he relented. Not bothering to dress himself, he followed the other. The castle wasn’t any less confusing, in fact, it seemed a little more like a maze now that he had slept for much too long.

They walked in silence, the stone floor cooling against his feet – it helped ground him, if only slightly.

The hunter could almost hear the complaints of his ancestry, could practically feel the shame that paired well with his parent’s angry remarks and disappointed looks.

He ignored it.

It was fine – he’d been a disgrace to the family name for a long time now, what did having dinner with a vampire worsen?

-

He’d expected to be led to some sort of grand dining hall, the kind that has a table so long that you can barely discern the edge of it from one side to the next.

But Alucard did not bring him to such a place, instead, they found themselves in a small room lined with large windows, a round wooden table in its middle with two chairs to accompany it. There was a fireplace in this room too, one that had already been lit, its flames painting the room in a living light that waltzed ever so slowly.

There was a desk as well, and a small bookshelf, all wooden. There were paintings on the walls and a few empty pots where he imagined plants had once lived.

It all felt much too alive.

“My mother’s favourite place to eat breakfast. She despised the dining room, always spoke of how cold and lifeless it felt to her.” Trevor fought back against a snappy retort, something along the lines of ‘finally, someone in this family who makes sense’. It was best to leave it unspoken, to spare himself from the death glare that would’ve surely killed him, should he have given in. “She would eat here whenever it was possible for her to do so – I used to join her in the mornings.” Adrian spoke as he sat on one of the two chairs, moving a few plates around the table. He did not speak of his mother often, and when he did, his tone seemed so quiet, so soft. As if the memories were so fragile that speaking of them loudly might shatter them.

The half vampire shed his coat, revealing a simple white chemise underneath, one that billowed so ornately around him that Trevor had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the sight. He bit his tongue again, sitting down on the free chair.

Wine was poured in their glasses, and Trevor was silently thanking the gods for the alcohol, taking a generous swig before replying to the other.

“Your mother had excellent taste in furniture.” He spoke, uncertain of what to say. Adrian simply nodded at this, handing him a plate of what looked like salad.

“Yes, now shut up and eat.” And there it was, a familiar tone. One of general annoyance, a feeling Trevor seemed to invoke a lot – which only made him wonder why he’d been invited to such a seemingly private thing.

Too hungry to object, Trevor put himself to use, devouring anything that seemed edible enough – and by God, it was a lot more than he’d thought. The spread was generous, from familiar meals to exciting new ones, each dish cooked to perfection. There were meats cooked in thick sauces, vegetables that were seemingly fried, and yet tasted so light it almost made him choke.

Dinner was spent in a quiet silence, one that wasn’t necessarily awkward, but not exactly welcomed either. Adrian poked at plates here and there, naturally less hungry than Trevor – one of them hadn’t eaten for over three days and it really showed.

With every plate, the wine seemed to taste sweeter, and before he knew it, the familiar buzz of alcohol had crept underneath his skin, rendering him fuzzy and content.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Trevor spat out as he poked at some peas in his plate, too full to conceptualize eating any more.

“Is that your way of thanking me?” Alucard replied, his hands woven beneath his chin. He looked so calm here in the low light, his skin gaining a warmth in the orange glow of the fire.

“I suppose.” He mumbled, pouring himself another glass of wine.

“You’re welcome.” The vampire replied, pausing to take a small sip of wine. And then, a silence again, until Adrian decides to fill it; “You learn to cook when you’re alone for a while.” It’s accompanied by a little shrug of his shoulders, which makes the fabric of his blouse sway in a mesmerizing, yet very pretentious way.

Trevor almost laughs here, a smile cracking his wine-stained lips. “Not necessarily – I can’t cook for shit.” He confesses, leaning back in his chair. The heaviness of the meal and the sweetness of the wine was beginning to tire him, and despite the three days of uninterrupted sleep, he felt himself yawning.

“Hm. Why does that not surprise me?” The other retorts, a matching grin lining his features. It’s surely an insult, but he says it so elegantly that its rudeness is almost completely lost. Still, Trevor allows himself to roll his eyes at this, the fuzziness of the wine rendering him more content than he’d be comfortable with, should he be sober.

There’s no good retort here, he knows he’s lost the battle, and he accepts it. Alucard just cooked them both an excellent meal, where Trevor would’ve burnt himself trying to get a fire started.

“You’re welcomed to stay the night again, if you wish.” The man before him offers then, so casually, inconsequentially. As if they knew each other. As if one wasn’t a hunter, and the other wasn’t the prey. (If asked, they’d both claim to be the hunter.)

Trevor did not respond immediately, letting the sentence float in between them as he pondered it.

On one hand, he was three days overdue – he needed to be gone two nights ago, and yet he was still lingering.

On the other hand, perhaps it would be wise to stay. He was still exhausted, and he was now a little tipsy as well – those weren’t ideal conditions in setting out for a voyage, now, were they?

He did not wish to be here much longer, but here there was a bed, and a warm fire, and one more night wouldn’t be the end of him, would it?

He nodded curtly, an acceptance of the invitation that’d been so kindly extended upon him.

If he’d come to regret it, he was not sure, but he knew it fit him in the moment. He’d made the final decision, the consequences (should there be any) would be a problem for another day.

And so, their conversation fizzled out – before long, Trevor had finished his wine, and Adrian was beginning to gather up the dirty plates – he didn’t ask for help, and Trevor did not offer it either. They simply parted ways, wordlessly.

Like strangers.

-

For a second – technically fourth – time, the vampire hunter slept in the night creature’s home.

-

They had developed a slight routine. They ate together once a day, nothing as lavish as that first time, but equally as delicious. Trevor spent some of his time hunting for wildlife outside the castle grounds, bringing with him anything he’d caught. Adrian would usually cook whatever he had slain, and they ate it together by firelight.

Words were rarely exchanged, as if sound would rupture the odd system they had going for them.

Every night, Trevor would convince himself to leave for the next morning. He ran the plans in his head as he lay; he would head to the east, find the nearest town or village, not stopping his journey until he found it. From there it’d be odd jobs and favours, wandering semi-aimlessly until he found his purpose, or his purpose found him.

And yet, every night, the soft bed and the warm meals kept him around, kept him comfortable and warm, cared for in a way he’d never been.

In his empty moments, he would search the castle, unable to resist the vast knowledge at his fingertips – for centuries, his ancestors had longed to be in Dracula’s castle, dedicating lifetimes to locating it, and yet… And yet, here he was, so casually residing in it, with all the technology the Belmonts had sought to study, to destroy.

Who would’ve thought that it would end up like this? The last of generations, alienated and uneducated, trying his best to fulfill a destiny he did not belong to.

If he was going to stay here for a little while, might as well try to, right?

As he familiarized himself with the castle, there was one room he avoided like the plague, not daring to venture into it. It was Adrian’s bedroom, of which the door was always closed shut. He hadn’t gotten so much as a peak inside, and he was not planning to. It’s not like he was afraid of Adrian or anything of the sort, no, it was something different… it seemed as though it was not for any reason in particular, like he could not put his finger on it, on why the sheer thought of opening that door turned him away – but it did.

As the days passed him by, his sleep had returned to something akin to normalcy. ‘Normalcy’, in this case, meant that Trevor was back to no longer sleeping well – no matter the comfort of the bed. Still, it was considerably more sleep than he’d get out there, but it wasn’t good by any means or standards.

Tonight, it irked him in particular as he tossed and turned within the sheets, the sheets whose softness was becoming unreasonably unbearable, a pleasant sensation turned sour for no apparent reason. His sleepwear this night consisted of a pair of old shorts and nothing more, and yet, his body seemed to burn with an unknown heat, one that made him too restless to sleep.

The fire in his hearth had gone out long ago, and the sun was beginning to rise somewhere in the distance, but as much as his body ached for it, it could not find sleep, could not find relief.

Pent up, and warm beyond belief, Trevor huffed an annoyed sigh before giving up on trying to sleep. Annoyed, he stood, throwing on a random white chemise from the closet on the guest room – of his room.

Exhausted, he began walking, trying to entertain his body with something, anything. Perhaps walking would be enough to make his subconscious realize that he needed rest, not restlessness. As he roamed the castle, he found himself walking a familiar path around the home, down corridors and up a few flights of stairs, taking specific turns, movements that worked on muscle memory alone.

It wasn’t long before he found himself in the small dining nook, the most familiar room in the entire manor. (And perhaps, it was beginning to be his favourite, but he had yet to admit this to himself wuite yet.)

It was rare to see it in this setting; it was dim, the light of dawn softly illuminating it as the sun rose to greet them. It was a beautiful sight, but he was perhaps too drained to enjoy it. Instead, he went straight for the small cabinet where the wine was stored, hastily uncorking a bottle for himself. He stared at the uncorked bottle for a moment, the habit of drinking himself to sleep was pushing him to just do it, do drink it now.

Reluctantly, he put the bottle down, grabbing a glass from the desk and the other end of the room, a desk that had come to serve as more of a surface for Adrian’s wine glasses. Adrian, who was the reason Trevor grabbed himself a glass in the first place – he knew his host would be very displeased if he were to drink straight from the bottle. He’d done it a few times before and had earnt himself a few lectures because of it – a result he was not intent in re-living.

When had he come to know the other so well?

He didn’t care. All he could focus on was the exhaustion that clawed as his brain, the familiar feeling of despair that often clung to him on sleepless nights, on sleepless days.

The wine was quickly poured into the glass, where it did not stay for long. The alcohol was too sour for his taste, but he did not care enough to stop drinking, feeling the familiar burning sensation that had carried him through a thousand nights before this one.

Old habits died hard, and if he wasn’t the living proof, no one else was.

“Couldn’t sleep?” A voice behind him spoke, and he was far too used to the way Alucard appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. The sudden presence did not illicit a reaction, merely a soft sigh of acknowledgment on his part.

“How’d you ever guess.” He spoke tiredly, voice practically dripping in sarcasm as he lulled his head to observe the other. “Care for some?” He lifted the bottle as he spoke, and Adrian nodded, grabbing a glass and pulling his chair up to face the Belmont. His glass was quickly filled, and they were soon drinking in silence, a silence that had come to be very comfortable, too comfortable.

The man before him was wearing an odd outfit for this time of day; pleated black pants and a ruffled chemise that matched the colour of their drink, the colour of which made it seem like his skin glowed in the low light.

“You know, I have no fucking idea why I’m still here.” Trevor spoke with the honesty of someone who’d already had half the bottle. It’s not like he had anything to lose, anyway. “You know, I really hated you. I wanted to leave, as soon as I was done with everything.” But it wasn’t true, and he knew it. He’d never hated the other. He’d yearned to, felt obligated to, in a sense. “I really wanted to hate you.” He took a generous sip and topped his cup off – this was far stronger than the other red wines he’d gotten used to, and he could feel its effect a little too well.

“I never would’ve guessed; you only declared it every five minutes.” Alucard remarked, smiling from behind his wine glass. And Trevor huffed at this, too tired to muster a real laugh.

“Then why the fuck isn’t it true? Why can’t I hate you?” His heart was beating a little faster than usual, and confessions were slipping from his tongue much too easily. “Your ancestors killed mine and vice versa, and yet here I still am, getting hammered on your wine. It’s laughable.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer.” Adrian crossed his legs, legs that were so long and slim in comparison to Trevor’s. Legs that were always hidden away beneath fabric, skin that was so hard to see.

They both took another sip as the man’s gaze squinted.

“The real question is, why haven’t you chased me out of here? The Alucard I met a few months ago would’ve never let a thing like me live within his walls for so long.” His words were beginning to drag on a bit, the alcohol heavy on his tongue.

Adrian shook his shoulders tiredly. “I’m not sure.” Another sip, and was it just Trevor, or did the other’s cheeks tint a bit rosier? It was hard to tell in this lighting. “Perhaps I’m lonelier than I’d like to admit.” A smile accompanied the sentence, but it was a small one, a sad one. Trevor could not muster the energy to ignore the flutter in his chest.

“Lonely, huh?” He threw back, downing the rest of his wine. “I have trouble seeing that.”

Alucard laughed at the statement; it was a rare sound, one so full of mirth that the Belmont could not help but smile at it.

“It’s that hard to believe?” The half-vampire asked then, leaning his chin in the palm of his hand.

“Yes, quite.” Trevor crossed his arms, a gesture meant to convey seriousness, that he was not joking. “Me, lonely, that’s logical. You? I think you’re lying.” He accused now, to which the half vampire feigned offense.

“Why is it so hard to believe, Belmont?” He pried, furrowing his eyebrows in what seemed to be an invitation.

And Trevor was drunk enough to say something very regrettable; “Because I believe that should you ask anybody; they would be glad to indulge you in anything.”

“Anybody, huh?” Down went the rest of the wine, his glass now discarded onto the table, besides Trevor’s.

“Anybody.” Trevor confirmed.

“Anything.”

“Anything you desired.”

The half vampire ran a pale hand through his golden locks, letting a thick silence reign over them for a second or two. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before – and why was Trevor’s heart beating so fast?

“You’re clueless, aren’t you?” Adrian spoke after a bit, tilting his head to the side in that way that drove Trevor insane.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” He shook his shoulders, too lost in his contentment to think about the other’s statement.

The other, who stood so suddenly, tossing his chair aside. The other, who offered a hand, and when it was taken, guided the hunter. They walked away from the breakfast nook, from the open wine and the dirtied glassed, down an unfamiliar path – or perhaps it was recognizable, but not in the state Trevor was in.

He was so at ease, Adrian’s hand fit nicely around his; it was slimer, and colder, but it was comfortable in a strangely beautiful way. They went up a staircase, maintaining a fairly quick pace – they took a right into a hallway, and a few doors down to their destination.

Trevor was shoved into the room before he could begin to protest, or to realize where he was. He stood in a rather modest bedroom, an unfamiliar one – it was the only room in the castle he had not yet been to.

“This is-“

“My room.” He finished the sentence with impatience. The curtains were drawn and there was a dying fire in his hearth, but there was enough light to show the slight tint on Adrian’s, the flush of alcohol that rendered him so much more attractive than before and – when had Trevor come to think of the other as attractive?

“Why are we..?” He began to question, his head several steps behind.

“Because I’ve been trying to get you to fuck me since the day I invited you to stay, and I cannot go another second without it if you keep looking at me the way you do. You said I could get anyone to do as I desired? Well, I’m asking you now to indulge me so that I can finally sleep at night.” The words were spoken hastily, so hushed they could’ve almost been misheard.

Almost.

Trevor could not deny the effect the confession had on him; he felt his blood rush south at the thought of it.

He’d expected a realization like this to feel like planets crashing, systems colliding inside his mind, but it didn’t. It was a gentle snap, two pieces of a puzzle clicking together in a manner that could only be described as gratifying. He felt warm as a smirk settled on his face. “I thought you’d never ask.” He did not linger then, unceremoniously joining their lips together in a kiss that tasted of aged berries and desperation.

And it made too much sense, the way his heart tried to beat its way out of its cage, the way his blood buzzed in something entirely different than the wine.

Alucard’s mouth was too eager to part for his as they stumbled upon the bed. The kiss was only momentarily interrupted as the half vampire let himself fall into the mattress’ embrace, Trevor in toe.

They weren’t apart for very long before Trevor was marking the other’s neck, biting and sucking anywhere he could reach, leaving traces dark enough to pierce through the dim lighting.

The hunter was soon unbuttoning the others’ blouse, stripping himself of his chemise as well. Fingers roamed across pale skin, eyes committing every juncture to memory.

The way the vampire was half propped up on his elbows, long hair cascading down bare shoulders – it drove him absolutely mad, a madness he was barely aware he’d been containing.

“Why on earth would you ever hide such a thing.” The Belmont spoke, mesmerized.

Adrian’s eyes were dark and half-lidded, and Trevor did not need much more to continue.

Trevor was speaking more than he usually did in situations like these, but he could not keep the words from falling off his tongue, sugary sweet confessions that surprised them both. “I tried to hate you; I had no idea it didn’t work because of this.” Pants came off very quickly after that, leaving them both unveiled, intoxicated not only by the wine that flowed through their veins, but from the tension that rose between them.

“Stop talking.” Adrian hissed, firmly grabbing the other’s chin to bring him down again, leaving hungry kisses on his lips.

In between heavy breaths, Trevor spoke; “Tell me what you want from me, and I will deliver it.” It was a promise, an oath to stop talking, should his mouth be put to good use. He sealed the words by leaving marks on the other’s jawline, relishing in the little hisses that came of it.

“I want you to be inside of me, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.” A request he couldn’t wait to oblige. Before he could do so, however, he felt a soft hand on the back of his head, fisting his hair. His head was easily lifted then, eyes forced to meet the other’s. There was a hint of malice there, a dark glimmer in Adrian’s eyes he could not ignore. Everything about this was so wrong; he’d never been more turned on in his entire life. There was no kindness in the other’s eyes when he spoke again, instead, the words resounded in Trevor’s ears like a threat. “Do not make me beg.”

And the hunter could do nothing but oblige, putty in his prey’s gaze. He ran a thumb between his lover’s folds, gathering the wetness to cover his shaft. It was sinful, to use another’s arousal as lubrication for penetration, it was sinful and enticing, pulling him further down a path with no return.

There was no preparation beyond that, they were much too far gone for it.

As Trevor sheathed himself within the other, he made sure to be as gentle as possible, savouring every inch that was taken. “Fuck.” He groaned beneath his breath as the feeling of Adrian’s walls hugged him so tightly, he could barely hold onto logic anymore. Perhaps he’d be the one to forget his own name.

“Ah-“ It was a small intake of air, barely a moan, but it managed to make him even harder than he already was. The half vampire threw his head back as Trevor was fully situated, taking a few audible breaths before meeting his gaze again.

Slowly, he began to thrust, baring his cock to slide it in again as gently as possible. When his lover began to grow restless, he upped the tempo, setting a steady rhythm.

And by God, it felt damnable how wet Alucard was, the sound of his arousal resonating lewdly in their ears with every thrust.

“Jesus, I’ve wondered what was beneath all those layers for so long.” He grunted, setting the pace to something somewhat regular.

“Hm?” Came a small noise from the person below him, whose elbows were getting too weak to hold them up – and so they fell to the mattress, their back arching gracefully as they did so.

It was a sight to behold, smooth skin that seemed to run for miles, a lithe body that was moving for him, in response to him, and only for his eyes to see. He’d declare the scene heavenly if it weren’t for the raunchiness of it, because by God, Trevor had never laid eyes on anything as gorgeous as this.

A lifetime of travel could not reveal such beauty, it was only found here, in his lover’s dips and curves, in the way his eyes rolled back, in every shaky breath, every silent gasp.

“Too modest for someone as pretty- shit- as you.” He struggled to keep his sentences focused, words slurring in a mix of intoxication and lust.

Adrian keened at the compliment, and Trevor took it as a sign to pleasure him harder, better – he quickened the pace a little more, hooking Adrian’s left leg over the crease of his elbow, almost lifting his partner to give a deeper angle.

The other’s breaths quickened, his chest moving up and down quickly as he struggled to contain the pleasure that rang throughout him.

Such a beautiful sight, watching his cock get lost in the vampire’s folds again and again, its tip prodding his belly with every deep thrust – Trevor could not tear his gaze away if we wanted to.

“Aaah- Belmont, you-“ They could not be considered conscious any longer, no, they’d stumbled into another state of being at this point.

“What is it- mm- Adrian?” The mention of his name made him whimper, his body writhing in pleasure.

“More.” He demanded, and so Trevor obliged.

With his loose arm, the trained killer brough his hand to rub circles around the other’s clitoris. It was by no means elegant or methodical, but it made the vampire react in such a delightful way, his walls clenching tightly around the shaft that penetrated him.

“Hng-“ The moans were becoming more and more frequent, sweet sounds that his ears drank up so greedily, trying desperately to commit them to memory. They’d be all he’d think about for weeks, this, he was certain of.

“You’re, fuck, sofuckinghandsome” The words tumbled out of his mouth without rhyme or reason. He pushed harder, bending the body beneath him to better reach the inside of his lover, to nestle himself deeply, in a desire to never be anywhere else but here.

With a glistening chest and the firm squeeze of his eyes, Adrian’s body seized in the throes of pleasure, wave after wave of shock coursing through his sensitive nerves. It was done rather quietly, and yet it made the scene all-the-more ethereal, like having watched something so rare that it only came once in a lifetime – to those who were lucky enough to get it.

And lucky felt like an under-statement as Trevor relished in the feeling of his lover’s orgasm, coming undone in tandem with him. He felt the pleasure crawling up and down his spine, relishing in the sight of the bump he left in Adrian’s stomach.

They stayed still for a moment or two before Trevor decided to move, pulling out of the vampire, leaving a trail behind the action. Lazily, the hunter took his thumb to the opening, gathering any liquid that had escaped and pumping it back inside of him.

Adrian was back on his elbows now, observing the gesture and shivering in sensitivity.

The two locked eyes, the exhaustion and elation of love-making heavy in their gaze, unspoken sentences staying in their minds. It was that comfortable kind of quiet again, the one that meant a lot more to them now.

They weren’t really strangers anymore.

-

A/N

>happy holidays... i love queer people so much. thats all.

>if you like this work i am So sorry but i have published nothing similar LMAO i doubt anyone will read this since its so outside of my norm. sonadow fans ill write some good stuff for you guys now that i've finished this <333

[asitrita]

HEADCANON FOR DOFFY'S AND CROCODILE'S HOUSES: Doffy would 100% live in a Spanish revival or Spanish colonial estate. It would look traditional and classic (but not extremelly rustic) on the outside, whereas the interior is a bit more modern, with classical and traditional Spanish elements, but incorporating modern fornitures and decoration, so it looks a bit more contemporary and fashionable. He may include a few 17th/18th cent. and Italian Renaissance elemets to it too, since they look rich and posh and reminds him of home (I just kinda imagine Mary Geoise to have a late 17th and early 18th cent. Spanish & French fashion and style to it, with all the Italian influences that this entails, even if the Château de Chambord that inspired Mary Geoie is from the early 16th century). I imagine his house to look something similar to these ones, but with more vibrant colours to it (more black and red too):

Villa Hibisco

Casa San Bernardo

Solvilla Real Estate

Almiral de la Font (this one's more mixed Doffy & Crocodile coded)

Nagueles mansion (a little bit of a different style, but I kinda see it too)

https://www.inspiredbythis.com/dwell/modern-spanish-home-in-la/

https://www.idesignarch.com/spanish-colonial-style-luxury-mansion-in-the-heart-of-texas/

https://homesoftherich.net/2015/09/4-625-million-spanish-colonial-mansion-in-houston-tx/

https://onekindesign.com/2019/12/20/spanish-colonial-style-estate/

For Crocodile, on the other side, I imagine a Spanish revival or colonial villa, or an Italian/Tuscan mansion, or just a broadly Mediterranean villa, but that looks traditional and a little bit rustic and rural, both in the outside and the inside. He looks classy and uses warm colours, so I think a luxurious and elegant but also rural and warm looking interior would work best for him. Doffy's house would be mostly white with black fornitures, but it would have some accents in red, and some vibrant and saturated blues and purples here and there (mostly around the pool area, maybe even some pink and green/yellow/orange) that contrast with the overall white and black scheme of the house. Crocodile would rather use overall warmer colours, beige, pale yellows, ashy browns and dark grey/black, deep dusty red and orangish, grey-ish blues and pruples, and dark greens, that combined with the use of wood everywhere would give a more rural and rustic vibe to it. Summing up, Doffy would have a traditional exterior (but not rustic looking) and a mixed interior, with more traditional and classic elements mixed with modern elements and some 17/18th cent. luxurious forniture and decoration, with a black and white plus deep red scheme, but accented with bright colours here and there; whereas Crocodile would go full traditional, rustic, and classic, both exterior and interior, with some modern and contemporary elements to it, but in a way that they completely blend with a traditional, rustic, but elegant look, and would use a more dark mutted colour palette to accent a dusty and ashy overlook (only exception a more vibrant brown classic leather armchairs). To give you an idea, this tik-tok is more or less (not exactly, obviously) what I imagine Crocodile's house interior to look like: https://www.tiktok.com/@lonefoxhome/video/7247217535681137962?_r=1&_t=8puFb1KlHpR

or maybe something like this:

https://www.travelocity.com/Orlando-Hotels-The-Spanish-Castle-West-Facing-Pool.h71546776.Hotel-Information?pwaThumbnailDialog=thumbnail-gallery

[fukuokanodivision]

“Let’s make some noise, the silence is killing me.”

Introduction Eko Seishin [known as “Aoi” in rap battles], Is a blockbuster idol and part time Chuohku agent. Radiating heavy idol energy, he’s able to easily captivate many locals on the streets of Fukuoka. Originally planning to overthrow Chuohku in the DRB, he decides to shift gears on a brand new plan — Securing OverDrive as Fukuoka’s rightful team.

Eko is a young adult of average height with a rectangle figure. He has short jet black hair reaching past his ears and cold electric blue eyes.

He wears a black t shirt topped with a leather jacket. His lower body is covered with black sweats with blue tech details, a similar wrap out the left and a pair of shiny, new black sneakers. For accessories, He wears a light blue wristwatch with a grey chain, sporting an electric blue music note. Name Meanings *Eko [エコ] - Echo *Seishin [精神] - Spirit Aliases *Onii-san = Mai *Eko = Yuno/Shu/Zaria *Onii-chan = Kairi *Seishin = NaYuta [OverDrive Drama Track 1]/Yurushi/Itsuki *Eko-san = NaYuta [Present] *Boku = Pronoun *Poltergeist Biographical Info Gender = Male Age = 25 Birthday = December 15th Ethnicity = Japanese Hair Colour = Jet Black Eye Colour = Electric Blue Height = 170cm/5’7 Weight = 50kg Star Sign = Sagittarius Piercings = None Markings = Blood Traces & Lacerations Family = *Mother *Father *Younger Sister Voiced By = nqrse [Rapping] Fun Facts MC Name = Aoi Occupation = Idol/Agent Division = Fukuoka Team = OverDrive Position = Leader Favourite Food = Takoyaki Least Favourite Food = Olives Likes = *Singing *Hanging With Teammates *Teasing Others *Pushing Forward In DRB Dislikes = *Threats On Teammates *Chuohku *Entitled People *Selective Individuals In Other Divisions [Particularly MIHANASA] *Perfectionists *Being Assaulted Hypnosis Microphone Eko’s Microphone is an advanced tech stylized MP3 player with a grey & electric blue colour scheme. His Speaker takes the form of a dark blue stage, Many multi sized speakers both located around and inside. A presumed silhouette of himself is centred in the spotlight, Harbouring a few speakers across the silhouettes body. A few Chuohku security cameras in place of stage lights can be spotted with mini circular speakers inside the cameras lenses. His rap ability, Resound allows him to manipulate sonokinetic power at will. This ability can be used multiple times in battle and on any of his opponents. However, The more times used can deplete his stamina depending on the amount of energy he has remaining during battle. Eko’s raps centre around being a supposed “DRB trump card.” His raps mainly speak about his rising power levels [Though he isn’t one who abuses his strength/popularity] and his will to act in “2nd Place” in order to set his true plans into action. He usually compares himself to a Rogue Idol who won’t take orders from anyone else [Often using the phrase “Pawa-Hara,” which is mostly slang for “Power Abuser” on his opponents.] He sometimes uses bits of English or Korean, Signifying himself as a multilingual speaker. Personality For exterior, Eko retains the popular idol charm with no difficulty. Playing the safe side with others, He mostly partakes a neutral approach out in public or various media. Thus, His true motives are shrouded in mystery with only his teammates understanding what he has planned for the future. Although, His interior is what shows his true character. Originally being the “No More Mr. Nice Guy”, He’s taken it to a way bigger level. Despite keeping it to a slight minimum, Eko spills in an insult or two just to spice things up between DRB contestants, Honing a sly and now cunning nature he’s able to let out when things get interesting. Background Born to Aoi and Shoji Seishin, Eko had a nice childhood by learning the secrets of Fukuoka from his father. Not only that, he is deemed the older brother by having a younger sister Kairi Seishin. During his early idol days, Eko was an easy target to many assaults. If no perfection was in his activities, his superiors would commit disgraceful acts. These included battery/aggravated assault, placing him on strict diets/starving him deeply, placing him in deafening environments and the worst of all…detaining him in “idol confinement.” Now becoming OverDrive’s leader, he’s downright loathed people with perfect lives. His raps speak how perfection won’t exist and will end anyone who tries to put his team under the bus, resulting in his fixed goal on becoming Fukuoka’s rap team.

[harryandpedro]

uppercut - two

summary: Maisy moves in with Pedro to care for his son. An irrationalizable infatuation with the thirty-four years old boxer puts roots in her heart.

parings: boxer/singledad!pedro x nanny!fem oc

warnings: none

wc: 3k

series masterlist here.

Maisy

From the gym, I head home to pack up my wardrobe and essentials.

I try not to overthink this whole situation. I'm just helping this handsome-looking man, nothing else. And besides, this is my opportunity to be spontaneous for once in my life.

I fill two suitcases then take an Uber over to Pedro's.

The car pulls up by the curb of a three-story renovated brownstone in Tribeca. I pay the driver and climb out, spotting Pedro sitting on the steps holding what I presume is a baby monitor.

When he sees me, he leaps to his feet. I struggle with my suitcases and he comes over to help. "Thanks," I mumble sheepishly.

"No worries." He shoots me a warm smile over his shoulder as he leads the way inside. He holds the heavy mahogany door open and ushers me inside. "Go ahead."

I enter and notice how tidy everything is. Peeking past the foyer, his home is spacious but not empty. Sure, there are telltale signs of a toddler living here—a play mat here and a stack of building blocks there—but for the most part, he keeps his space neat.

I take off my shoes and place them by the end of a row of sneakers, mostly New Balances. Footwear he can easily put on. Dad shoes. A smile lifts on my lips at my conclusion.

"Thank you, Maisy. You're really saving my ass by watching my son," he says, and he sounds genuinely grateful. "As soon as the agency finds a replacement, you can go back to your big plans," he promises.

My big plans of wallowing in bed and regretting my life choices? I'd rather not.

"That's okay," I give him a smile. "Think this will be better for me than doom-scrolling and bed-rotting all summer."

"One piece of advice; enjoy those summers while you still can," he tells me, winking. "Let me show you around."

I hum and he rounds me and leads me further into his home. He faces me, walking backwards. "Oliver's room is on the second floor. I'll let you explore on your own when he wakes from his nap, but the main part of the house is this way." Hands in the pockets of his jeans—he changed out of his workout clothes, he nods towards the opposite side of the house.

I trail after him as he gives me a tour of the first floor. We pad barefoot across the hardwood flooring. "Living room, dining room, kitchen," he rattles off the open spaces as we pass them. The interior follows the same colour scheme—white, charcoal grey, navy blue and a pop of burnt orange on textiles. His kitchen is pine green with stainless steel appliances. The living room has a pillowy L-shaped couch and a nook for Oliver to play with a playpen and a basket of toys. A monstrous flatscreen television is built into a custom-made bookshelf system that takes up the entire wall.

"Why the big screen?" I tease him.

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. "I like to make it an occasion when I watch a movie."

I scoff. "What movie do you watch that requires this many pixels?"

"Nothing mature-themed, if that's what you're getting at. More like The Big Lebowski. Blade Runner. The Gladiator, to name a few," he shrugs.

"Never seen them."

"Well, I have them on DVD so you can give them a watch when Oliver's sleeping." A beat of silence mushrooms us, and I use it to scan his book collection. He has a vast array, spanning from Dostoevsky to Daphne du Maurier.

"Let's go upstairs." We take the stairs to the third floor. "My room's up here," he motions to a closed door. "As is the guest bedroom. I got it all set up for you."

I follow him and he shows me to my room for the next ten or so weeks. I immediately notice how much direct sunlight it gets because of the south-facing window. The floors are the same hardwood as the rest of the house. The furniture is all white—a desk, a dresser and a built-in closet—except for the double bed that has an anthracite curved headboard.

I leave my spot and opt to explore and while I do, I hear him walk away and come back, placing down my suitcases by the door. I turn to face him.

"There's a binder on the desk for you with everything listed about Oliver in there. His routines and daily schedules. What his gibberish is supposed to mean, that kind of stuff. Also emergency contacts. You got my number right?"

I thumb through the pages. "Yeah, I have it saved in my phone."

"Good. That's good."

"You're really organized," I say more like an afterthought.

"I got to be. My son's relying on and I'm not about to let him down." He scratches his chin. "All right, I'll let you get comfortable. Oli's gonna wake up soon from his nap, come find us when you're ready to meet him."

He backs out of the room, leaving the door ajar. I don't bother to close it. I quickly change out of my jeans and into some shorts that go with the basic white tee I have on before unpacking. First, I put my clothes in the drawers and the wardrobe, then I move on to stacking my summer reads on the nightstand—all romance because if I don't have romance in my life then at least I can fantasize about it. I didn't bring much clutter, only a scented candle and a framed drawing of New York's skyline from when I was big into creative stuff. They find their new home on the desktop. I fluff the pillows and inspect the sheets Pedro got me. They're white and ironed, like in hotels. I smell them, and they smell fresh and something musky.

I store away my toiletries in the bathroom across my room and as I walk the two steps it takes back to my quarters I pick up on the babble of voices coming from the living room downstairs.

Anxiety rises in me as I contemplate the what-ifs, my biggest concern being what if Oliver doesn't like me. I take a cleansing breath to get over myself and make my way over to them.

Pedro

Oliver and I are in the living room, practising our walk when Maisy appears in the archway. She's wringing her hands so I shoot her an encouraging smile, prompting her to come closer.

"Look, Bug, someone's here to meet you," I say in a baby voice. I'm hunched over and I let him use me for balance as he clutches onto my hands and takes wobbly steps ahead of me. We stop and I lift him into my arms. "This is Oliver." I nod my head towards him, shifting my hip so Maisy can see him better.

"Hi, Oliver," Maisy coos, her eyes melting.

My son blushes, burrowing his head into the crook of my neck. He's being shy, but he's not afraid of her the way he is with most strangers. I think he's simply aware of her attention, and even though he's acting like he doesn't, he likes it.

"He's being shy."

"That's okay. We all get shy sometimes." She tells my son in a soft voice.

At that, he picks his little head up and peers at her curiously.

"Should we show Maisy all your stuff?" I ask my son. He makes a gibberish sound.

"He's not walking on his own yet?" Maisy asks.

My head snaps to her, looking for a judgmental glare to accompany her statement, but there isn't one. In fact, nothing in her tone was judgmental either.

It's a me thing, thinking others are judging my parenting skills or my son's progression. He's fourteen months old. Maybe he should be walking. Maybe he should have more words in his vocabulary. I don't fucking know. To be honest, I don't want to know because I'm doing my best.

"Not yet. It'll happen any day now, though." I shift my attention back to Oliver, not letting her see the concern on my face that I'm screwing up this whole "dad" thing.

"That's kind of a relief. I'm glad I don't have to worry about him running away on me," she chuckles.

Looking at her, I catch her watching my son with a fond smile. She's not judging us, not judging me.

"He's a hell of a crawler though." We make it to the second floor where Oliver's nursery is located. I close the stairs gate and then place him down and he immediately starts crawling. "The house is baby-proofed so you can let him crawl as much as he wants, just make sure the stairs gate is shut."

I steer her in the direction of Oliver's nursery. She enters first and I stop in the doorway, watching her take in the room.

"We're at the stage where he naps two times during the day and he's sleeping through the night. If he gives you trouble when you put him down, you can give him a bottle."

She nods along as she inspects Oliver's crib.

I push off the doorway and meet her by the dresser. Pulling drawers, I go over with her what where to find.

We make our way back to the kitchen. "We're doing baby-lead weaning. I try to introduce a new food every four days but basically, he sets the pace." I point to the fridge. "I have an ongoing list of foods he has tried. Please don't give him anything allergenic if I'm not here."

"Noted," she says before finding Oliver sitting at her feet, staring up at her with big eyes.

She gets down on her haunches, making herself as eye level as she can. "Hi, buddy."

Oliver gives her a giddy, toothy grin and I lean against the kitchen counter, watching their interaction.

There's something about this image of her standing in my kitchen with her big, beautiful brown eyes and the thick lashes framing them, that makes me forget she is the nanny and my coach's daughter and not one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. For just one second.

I erase the inappropriate thoughts.

"What do you say? Wanna hang out with me while your dad is working?" Maisy pokes my son's belly playfully.

Oliver makes grabby hands at her, his way of telling her he wants to be held. "Up, up," he babbles, smacking his lips together.

She picks him up with ease, positioning him on her hip, an arm securely wound around him. My son lies his head on her shoulder with a sweet sigh, his little palm settling on her collarbone. She gazes down at him, fondness glistening in her eyes.

Oliver has never been this keen on being held by a stranger before, least of all a random woman. I blame his general shyness around women on the fact that the one who gave birth to him left him to be raised by a single dad and a team of boxers.

Witnessing how quickly Maisy has gained his liking eases away a small amount of my hesitation about this situation.

Maisy

My nerves wake me before my alarm. I lie in bed for some time, listening to the soft sounds of Pedro getting his day started. I hear the coffee maker, him unloading the dishwasher, Oliver's sweet little squeals.

"Whoa, Bug. Let's try to keep the volume down. We don't want to wake Maisy, do we?" I hear him say and my insides go all warm and fuzzy.

I press down this foreign tender feeling and throw off my covers. I pull on a hoodie, hiding my bedhead with the hood and set out to find them. They're in the kitchen, Oliver in his highchair, elbow deep into some kind of puree while his dad watches him like a hawk over the rim of his mug of coffee.

"Morning," he rasps in a bourbon-backed voice, "Did we wake you?"

His morning rasp has my tummy doing cartwheels. I try to ignore the sensation but it spreads through my body.

I've never had sex but I do know what it feels to be drawn to someone. And this funny feeling his voice just wrought out of me is so wrong on many levels. For starters, he's my dad's client and friend. Secondly, I'm nannying his kid. And perhaps most importantly, he's twelve years my senior. I shouldn't be attracted to him.

"No, you didn't," I say, swallowing past a lump in my throat.

He does a casual peruse of my get-up but his gaze doesn't make me feel objectified. It's not predatory, it's curious. His eyes linger on my bare legs before lifting to meet mine. "Coffee?" he offers.

"Yeah, thanks." The grinder of his coffee machine gets to work.

"Black or—?"

"With milk, if you have some."

"Sure. Suit yourself."

He cleans up Oliver while I fix up my coffee. "We're gonna get ready. You can join us if you feel up for it," he prompts. Effortlessly, he holds his son up with a single forearm and the two of them wait for my answer.

Naturally, I agree and, as he has taken me through Oliver's nighttime ritual last night, I shadow him as he performs their morning routine.

An hour later, I come to the conclusion that Pedro is a bit helicopter-y. All morning he refuses to put Oliver down. Though he's needy, I can sympathise with him; he's probably trying to soak up every minute he gets with him because he's leaving his boy for the rest of the day and Oliver won't be awake when he gets home.

"You should go or you'll be late to your session," I remind him. He ignores me and continues to blow raspberries on his son's tummy and cheeks. I try to respect him but he's been saying his goodbyes for the last five minutes. "Seriously, Pedro, just go. I promise I can handle this."

He reluctantly hands Oliver over. "Call with anything," he says to me, boring into my eyes.

"We will be fine," I assure him.

With one final kiss to his son's forehead, he slings his duffle bag over his shoulder and heads for the front door. "I'll be back around seven," he tells me and finally heads out.

I shut the door behind him and peer down at Oliver. "Looks like it's just you and me for a bit." I bounce on the balls of my feet, rooting to keep him from getting fussy now that his dad is gone. "What should we do now, huh, buddy?"

Our day ensues without a hitch. I follow his daily schedule—eat, play, sleep and repeat. I play peekaboo with him but we both get bored of it quickly so when he's down for his afternoon nap, I consult Google about more engaging activities we can do together.

He gets clingy when I'm putting him down for the night—obviously missing his dad's comfort—but rocking him seems to do the trick and he eventually succumbs to sleep.

It's almost eight when Pedro gets in, and I've done the dishes, folded the baby clothes in the dryer and emptied the diaper pail.

Without as much as greeting me or bothering to take his sneakers off, he takes the steps in twos before breaking into a light jog on the second floor. I don't take it personally, I'd most likely be the same. It must be hard to leave your child in the care of someone else.

I watch on the baby monitor as he enters the darkened space of the nursery and hurries over to the crib. Oliver is soundly sleeping in a set of comfy pyjamas. Pedro's posture visibly relaxes. He tucks the edges of the blanket around his son's little body before kissing his forehead and slipping out of the room.

I hear him toeing off his shoes in the foyer. "Maisy?" he calls.

"In the kitchen," I respond, loud enough for him to hear.

I sense his presence and I turn to see him. "Hey," I say with a smile. "He's asleep?"

"He is. Did he go down okay?" He's still in his workout clothes, rocking a grey t-shirt with sweatmarks over it and a pair of basketball shorts.

"He was a bit upset but we managed. Otherwise, he was an angel." I dry my hands on a dish towel. "You hungry? I took the liberties and got groceries delivered with your emergency card."

"Thank you. I completely forgot we were out of stuff," he says. His gaze leaves mine and looks behind me. "Did you do the dishes?"

"Yeah," I mumble tentatively. "Am I overstepping here?"

"No, it's not that," he reassures me. "But you don't have to worry about that stuff. I have a cleaning lady come every three days to help with that."

"Oh, well, it wasn't that much of a hustle," I tell him.

He gives me a tight-lipped smile. "I appreciate the enthusiasm." He moves past me, heading for the fridge.

He starts pulling ingredients for an omelette and I simply stand there, observing him. "Can I ask you something?" I speak up after a beat. He hums in acknowledgement. "Where's Oliver's mom?"

There's a hint of hesitation in his eyes as he looks at me. "No idea. We were a drunken fumble. She didn't tell me she got pregnant, then she showed up one year post-partum out of nowhere and a couple of days later skipped town." He sets a pan on the stovetop. "Said didn't want any part of her kid."

That puts Pedro's overbearing protectiveness of his son into a better perspective. Oliver didn't have anyone and Pedro stepped up, ready to be his everything. My heart cracks.

"You don't need to feel sorry for us," he adds, turning on the stove. "I made peace with Oliver's mom's decision. I'm not saying that what she did was acceptable by any means, but I think Oliver is better off without her than to be loved half-heartedly by her."

I gnaw on the inside of my cheeks. It must've been a lot to take on, to fill in for two and to carry that responsibility.

"I know I've only been here for a day but I can tell that you're a wonderful dad to Oliver. He's lucky to have someone as loving as you are as their parent." I tell him earnestly.

"I do the best I can with our situation."

With that, silence descends on the room. He's in his head and I suddenly feel like I'm intruding. "Well, if you don't need me with anything else I think I'm going to turn in for tonight."

"Okay. Good night."

[jelashford]

Paint: Janine’s great at many things, but interior design is not one of them. This paint could help add a little brightness to Abel’s current military-grey and eggshell-white colour scheme.

[interiordesigncambridge]

Colour of the Month ( Sage Green ) by Interior Design Cambridge

Here at Interior Design Cambridge, we are starting the month off with the core colour to create “calm interiors”. If you are unsure and would love a calm, warm and inviting atmosphere almost instantly — sage green is your best bet; a safe, and easy option in my opinion that doesn’t push the boat out too far. Paired with natural woods, whites and hints of blue you will have the ultimate “yoga retreat” experience in your home. If you would like to give your home an “English country home experience” you can use a darker-toned sage green paired with browns or blacks as an accent. 

At Interior Design Cambridge we love using greens in a bedroom or hallway however you can also use sage as a 'pop' or accent in your space, rather than blend into the colour scheme. When designing we usually start with core natural colours as a base - and sage green is the ultimate soft, subtle and a colour that is very prevalent in nature.

Here is founder and BBC One's Interior Design Masters Contestant Busé’s favourite sage greens this month have been :  

Number 1 —FARROW AND BALL FRENCH GREY 

Number 2 — LICK GREEN 02 MATT

Number 3 — COAT PAINTS: PARK LIFE SAGE GREEN

Number 4 — COAT PAINTS: YARD HAZY GREY GREEN

Colour I would pair it with would be :

Tumeric yellow, dark blue (colour sample), white for a summer feel and forest green to add depth and interest to a space. Incorporating dark or lighter wood tones work very well against this colour. 

Written by Interior Design Cambridge

[sri-bni]

The Ultimate Guide to False Ceilings: Unleashing Creative Possibilities for Every Space

False ceilings have become an integral part of modern interior design, adding depth, elegance, and functionality to various living spaces. From the living room and bedroom to the kitchen and office, false ceilings offer limitless possibilities for transforming the ambience of any room. In this comprehensive guide to false ceilings, we will explore the different aspects of false ceilings, including their benefits, colour options, materials like PVC, and inspiring ideas for each specific space.

Living Room False Ceiling: The living room is often the focal point of a home, and a false ceiling can enhance its grandeur. From tray designs to recessed lighting, there are numerous options to create a unique and stunning false ceiling. Incorporate ambient lighting fixtures such as hidden LED strips or pendant lights to add warmth and create a cosy atmosphere for relaxation and entertainment.

Bedroom False Ceiling: A well-designed false ceiling in the bedroom can instantly create a soothing and serene environment. Opt for soft curves, gentle lighting, and subtle colour schemes to promote tranquillity. Cove lighting, integrated with the false ceiling, can produce a warm and romantic ambience, while starry LED lights can add a touch of whimsy.

Hall False Ceiling: The hall or foyer is the first impression visitors get of your home. Make it a memorable one with an eye-catching false ceiling design. From geometric patterns to artistic installations, the hall false ceiling can showcase your unique style. Experiment with dramatic pendant lights or chandeliers that not only illuminate the space but also serve as stunning statement pieces.

Kitchen False Ceiling: While functionality is crucial in the kitchen, it doesn't mean you have to compromise on style. Opt for a simple kitchen false ceiling design that complements the overall aesthetics of the same. Incorporate concealed lighting to create a bright and inviting workspace. PVC false ceilings are a popular choice for kitchens due to their durability and resistance to moisture and heat.

Office False Ceiling: Creating a productive and professional environment in the office starts with a well-designed false ceiling. Consider integrating acoustic panels into the design to reduce noise levels and improve concentration. Use neutral or cool tones for a calming effect, and incorporate task lighting to ensure proper illumination for workstations.

False Ceiling Colors: Choosing the right colour palette for your false ceiling is crucial in setting the desired mood and complementing the overall decor. For a classic and timeless look, opt for neutral shades like white, beige, or grey. For a bolder statement, explore vibrant hues like blue, green, or even metallic finishes. Consider the natural light and room size when selecting colours to maintain a balanced and harmonious atmosphere.

Simple False Ceiling: Sometimes, simplicity can create the most striking impact. A simple false ceiling design can be elegant and visually appealing. Explore minimalistic patterns, clean lines, and recessed lighting to achieve a contemporary and sophisticated look. Incorporate indirect lighting to create a soft and inviting ambience.

Closing Thoughts

False ceilings offer endless possibilities for transforming and enhancing living spaces. Whether it's the living room, bedroom, kitchen, hall, or office, a well-designed false ceiling can create an atmosphere that reflects your style and meets your functional needs. Experiment with colours, materials, and lighting to unlock the full potential of this architectural element, and let your imagination soar as you create unique and captivating false ceiling colours and designs.

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Tár (Field, 2022)

This review contains mild spoilers.

I think what hooked me right away was the look of the movie. I do not always do well with movies that can be described as aesthetically austere (at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I think modern arthouse cinema has a tendency of mistaking austerity for artfulness and is too often afraid of raising the audience's pulse), but I think there's a clear sense of purpose here behind the movie's visual strategy. The colour palette here can be described as pallid and glum, heavy on damp greys, a coldness creeping into the images. The interiors are orderly, defined by clean lines and sparse furnishings, like we've stepped into a morose IKEA commercial. If we get warmer colours, they're from the dimmed lights in hotel rooms or in dramatically structured concert hall, which don't always feel like friendly settings. There's a sense of deliberate curation here, not unlike the persona the protagonist has manufactured for herself or the precision with which she purportedly engages in her art, and the breaks from this aesthetic (the crumbling ghetto she ventures into in one scene, her neighbour's unkempt home, the spectral non sequiturs, the oaken tones of her childhood home, the tropical greens of the Philippines) perhaps find cracks in her psyche. Maybe this is pat visual metaphor, but I was engaged by the forcefulness of the execution.

I suppose social media and smartphones are still a new phenomenon in the grand scheme of things, but this movie bridges the gap between the personal and the digital more compellingly than I've seen elsewhere. Computer and cell phone screens are not inherently cinematic, and what I think this movie does wisely is tie a sense of perspective to them. We see the protagonist pore over and react to questionable emails to and from a figure in her past. We observe her through a smartphone camera, as texts are exchanged deriding her. The movie does not fully reveal the entire context around these communications. We do not get a definitive answer on the protagonist's role in that figure's fate, nor do we see who exactly the exchanges are between, although in both cases we can make educated guesses. But that ambiguity enhances a certain isolating quality inherent in the digital, the way that negative feelings tied to online activity exist partially in a void. And between the early scene where she chews out a student for not wanting to study Bach for half baked social justice reasons and her eventual cancellation, the movie observes how the online world can spill over into the physical world.

I also found the movie pretty compelling for its ability to resist the usual cliches about portraying difficult artists, in that it refuses to conflate her personal failings with her artistry. The movie repeatedly brings up other artists with personal failings (like the aforementioned Bach scene), as if to goad you into making that conclusion, but the cruelty we see her mete out here is much more covert and almost adjacent to her success as an artist. (One of the funnier examples is the pettiness with which she undermines her neighbour's efforts to sell her apartment. "Apartment for sale! Your sister's in jail! We're all going to hell!") And of course it helps when you have a performance both as controlled and as physical as Cate Blanchett's here, especially as the control seems to be the point. It's not a coincidence that we see her getting a bespoke suit and shirt made, and I must take a moment to commend her good taste with respect to the height of her collar, the rise of her pants, and the slouchy silhouette of her jacket. Yes, yes, I'm talking about clothes again.

I am still chewing this one over and suspect I will have smarter (or at least more) thoughts on this later, perhaps on an eventual rewatch that I will very likely be doing at some point. But what I can say was that I was enrapt for the entirety of its two and a half hour runtime, despite the very real possibility that I could have fallen asleep.

[uncommon-etc]

This theory has an interesting flipside too, in terms of the impact bringing colour back into our homes may have on our relationship with advertising. I've had a mortgage for the past five years but even before that I rebelled against all my previous landlords beige-and-grey colour-schemes wherever I could, even painting walls when I had the chance, and buying the brightest accessories and fabrics I could.

I stopped buying most interiors magazines years ago, not just because they're really expensive, but because I was so sick of the 'colourless minimalist wasteland' as you put it, the one exception was Homes & Antiques, because furniture made over 100 years ago was designed to look good against the bright colours of the Victorian and Regency eras, so those who fill their homes with them often have no choice but to embrace their natural habitat (trust me, a George III carver chair upholstered in blue velvet will look totally out of place and pretty crap against a white and pale grey backdrop, as will a Victorian cranberry glass celery vase). Painting my walls in bright, bold shades made my stuff look better too, more permanent, and therefore less likely to be replaced multiple times a year when new trends for livening up a boring room came along.

The thing is, after a few years of living in a colourful flat with a red living room, pink bathroom, dark green bedroom, and blue hallway, I realised I no longer noticed garishly coloured advertising when I was out and about. Our cityscapes and towns are pretty grey, especially in the UK, and especially over the winter, so making your billboard, bus-stop poster, or tube poster stand out against its surroundings with a bit of colour is a no-brainer, but while I remember exactly what adverts looked like in the 90s and 00s when I was a kid and lived in a much more calmly decorated house, I couldn't tell you the last one I saw. They are no longer the only source of bright colour in my day-to-day existence, and as a result they have lost any power they once held over me.

I don't have any evidence that this experience could be universal, but it would be interesting to find out whether in parts of the world where clothing, household textiles and general interior traditions call for a lot more colour, and the natural or built environment is less grey, whether advertising is as effective in its current state.

So I'm reading for an art history class, and Baudrillard is talking about the trends in colour usage from generation to generation (mostly in interior design, but there's definite spillover into fashion, architecture, etc.), and how every new colour movement is a direct rebellion against the previous one, like how the bright colours of the 60s/70s were a direct response to the austerity and seriousness of the WWII/postwar era, and how a shift back to organized, moralistic neutrals were a direct rejection of 60s/70s gaudiness, etc., and that all makes sense, people find their parent's style tacky, sure

But he goes on to observe how we've now been stuck in a lull of pasty tones and naturalistic finishes for some time, and I'm thinking yes, he's so right, but that's weird, because its been hanging around for so long, like what is it rebelling against anymore? What is it answering to? Well all I had to do was be patient because lo and behold, Baudrillard provides the following sentence, which caused me to completely wig out:

"...except of course, for the spheres of advertising and commerce, where colour's power to corrupt enjoys full rein"

And I'm like ooohhhhHHHHHH, so this colourless minimalist wasteland of a design principle:

Is maybe hanging on so stubbornly because this corporate hellscape:

is assaulting all of our eyes, inside and outside of our homes, every waking second, and is tainting the very concept of colour into something we can't relax around in our living spaces.

EDIT: The reading was The System of Objects by Jean Baudrillard, 1996 Ed., Part A, Section II, Subheading "Atmospheric Values: Colour" (p. 30-36 in my copy). Even if this was a passionate spur-of-the-moment post, omitting this was pretty silly; my bad.

EDIT 2: I was trying to be chill and leave this one alone, cuz I know most people in the notes are talking to themselves and their followers and not actually me, but 11,000 notes in it's starting to get to me - yes, I am aware that decreased homeownerhship/increased renting/landlord specials/hyperfocus on resale values, are all very direct causes of this too. I totally agree. For me, those were the obvious answers; I think we all get why the owning class is serving this to us. My epiphany moment was about understanding the flip side, the psychology of the consumers who keep accepting it, and even seem to enjoy it. That's what I couldn't understand before, but now I suddenly do. (And for those of you saying such people don't exist, no one actually wants to live without colour - check the notes, bb, they're everywhere. Not everyone has the same brain as you. We all deal with the horrors of capitalism differently.)

[south-beach-homes]

Open-Concept Living in Hampton Style Display Homes: A Dream Come True

When creating the perfect living space, nothing quite compares to the charm and elegance of hampton style display homes in Melbourne. These homes, designed with the signature style of coastal Australia, bring a fresh, airy, and inviting atmosphere to your living experience. The open-concept living design is the heart of Hampton-style homes, offering a spacious and modern environment perfect for relaxation and entertainment.

Let's explore what appeals to us about these homes, from their architectural features to their unique ability to expand and connect any space.

The Allure of Hampton Style Homes

Hampton-style homes evoke the essence of coastal living with their light, bright, and breezy interior design. Inspired by the luxurious beach homes of the Hamptons in New York, this style features clean lines, natural textures, and a sophisticated yet relaxed atmosphere.

One key element of this style is the open-concept floor plan. By removing walls and embracing a more fluid space, Hampton-style display homes create an atmosphere where the living room, dining area, and kitchen flow seamlessly together. This layout not only maximises natural light but also enhances the feeling of space in a way that traditional floor plans cannot.

The Heart of the Home: The Open-Concept Layout

The beauty of the open-concept living design in Hampton-style homes is how it integrates functionality and aesthetics. Imagine a kitchen with sleek cabinetry, a central island, and high-end appliances flowing effortlessly into the living room and dining area. With large windows, natural light pours in, bathing the entire space in a warm, inviting glow.

This is the perfect setup for family gatherings, dinner parties, or relaxing after a long day. The layout also allows for flexibility—arrange your furniture to suit your lifestyle, whether a cozy reading nook, a chic dining table, or a spacious entertainment area.

Seamless Indoor-Outdoor Living

What truly sets hampton style display homes in Melbourne apart is their ability to extend the living area outdoors. Large sliding glass or bi-fold doors often open directly onto a deck or patio, creating a seamless connection between the indoor and the outdoor environment. This fusion brings the outside in, allowing you to enjoy your surroundings in the comfort of your own home.

The outdoor spaces are designed with just as much care as the interior. They feature comfortable seating, ambient lighting, and often a pool or lush garden. These spaces are ideal for unwinding or hosting gatherings under the stars after a busy day. 

The Key Features of Hampton Style Display Homes

Several distinct features make hampton style display homes in melbourne truly shine. These elements elevate the design and create the perfect relaxed, stylish living atmosphere.

1. Neutral Color Palettes

Hampton-style homes embrace soft, neutral tones that evoke the coastal vibe of sun-bleached sands and blue skies. Whites, creams, soft greys, and beige dominate the colour scheme, with the occasional navy or seafoam green pop. This soothing and timeless colour palette is easy to decorate and personalise with furniture and accessories.

2. Natural Materials

To enhance the light, airy feeling of the home, Hampton-style display homes often feature natural materials such as timber, stone, and linen. These materials add texture and warmth to the space, making it feel luxurious and down-to-earth.

3. Elegant Furnishings

In hampton style display homes, the furnishings are chic yet understated. Think plush sofas, elegant light fixtures, and tasteful accessories that add character without overwhelming the space. These homes are designed to be functional and beautiful, with every piece of furniture carefully selected to enhance the overall aesthetic.

Conclusion

In the end, hampton style display homes in Melbourne offer a unique blend of sophistication, functionality, and coastal charm that can suit any lifestyle. The open-concept design maximises space, promotes connection, and makes any home feel light, airy, and inviting.

Whether you’re looking for a home that can accommodate a growing family, a space for entertaining, or simply a retreat from the hustle and bustle of life, Hampton-style homes provide the perfect balance of style and comfort.

[timberflooring525]

Why Choose Hybrid Flooring In Sydney For Your Home?

If you're renovating your home or updating your floors, hybrid flooring in Sydney is a popular choice that combines the best of laminate and vinyl. Known for its durability, water resistance, and stylish designs, hybrid flooring is a versatile option for any room. But why is it so popular in Sydney homes? Let’s explore the benefits, styles, and tips for selecting the perfect hybrid flooring.

What Makes Hybrid Flooring Unique?

Hybrid flooring stands out because of its innovative design and versatility. Here’s why:

Durable Construction:

A blend of rigid core technology and multiple layers ensures long-lasting performance.

Water Resistance:

Perfect for kitchens, bathrooms, and laundry rooms, hybrid flooring is entirely waterproof.

Realistic Aesthetics:

Modern designs mimic the natural beauty of hardwood or stone.

Low Maintenance:

Easy to clean and resistant to scratches, it’s ideal for busy households.

Eco-Friendly Options:

Many brands use sustainable materials, making it a greener flooring choice.

Why Is Hybrid Flooring Popular in Sydney Homes?

Sydney homeowners often choose hybrid flooring for its adaptability to the local climate and lifestyle.

Climate Compatibility:

Withstanding Sydney’s fluctuating temperatures and humidity, hybrid flooring resists warping and swelling.

Modern Aesthetics:

Its sleek appearance fits seamlessly into Sydney’s contemporary and coastal home designs.

Cost-Effective:

Hybrid flooring offers a high-end look without the premium price tag of hardwood or tiles.

Pet and Kid-Friendly:

Its scratch resistance and durability make it ideal for active families.

Installation Flexibility:

Hybrid flooring can be installed over most existing floors, saving time and effort.

How to Choose the Right Hybrid Flooring for Your Sydney Home

To find the perfect hybrid flooring, keep these factors in mind:

Design Preferences:

Decide between wood-look or stone-look options to suit your home’s interior.

Room Usage:

Opt for thicker, more durable planks in high-traffic areas.

Core Material:

Choose between stone plastic composite (SPC) or wood plastic composite (WPC) for different levels of resilience.

Colour Scheme:

Neutral tones like greys and whites complement modern designs, while warmer hues suit traditional homes.

Warranty:

Ensure the flooring comes with a reliable warranty to guarantee long-term quality.

How to Maintain Hybrid Flooring

Keep your hybrid flooring looking great with these simple tips:

Regular Cleaning:

Sweep or vacuum regularly to remove dirt and debris.

Avoid Harsh Chemicals:

Use a damp mop with mild cleaning solutions to preserve the surface.

Protect from Furniture:

Use pads under furniture legs to prevent scratches.

Control Moisture:

While hybrid flooring is waterproof, cleaning up spills promptly prevents damage.

Where to Find Quality Hybrid Flooring in Sydney

Sydney offers plenty of options for high-quality hybrid flooring:

Local Showrooms:

Visit flooring retailers to explore samples and compare finishes.

Online Stores:

Check out e-commerce platforms for convenience and variety.

Home Improvement Centres:

Stores like Bunnings offer hybrid flooring options and installation services.

Specialist Flooring Companies:

Experts can help you choose and install the perfect flooring for your needs.

Conclusion

Whether you’re updating your living room, kitchen, or bathroom, hybrid flooring in Sydney is an excellent choice for its durability, water resistance, and stylish appeal. With so many designs and options available, hybrid flooring fits perfectly into Sydney’s diverse architectural styles. Start exploring your options today and transform your space with this versatile flooring solution!

[scrapheapchallenge]

Erm, as resident Good Omens Bentley geek, who has met both Season 1 AND Season 2 Bentleys, there ARE continiuty errors, and I know why.

SO - in s1 and s2 they used this cab only for a lot of shots - including all CGI ones - where the rest of the car was created in post sfx around the cab.

You'll notice, it matches the s1 bentley ("Mary") - 2 doors, and orange leather seats, as it was a replica of Mary.

At the end of s1, they (presumably?) removed the interior, (unclear - can't see interior when it's on fire), then set it up on the airfield with some mocked up panels and wheels around it to make it look like a full car, and set it on fire., completing the illusion with VFX so we see it as a real, complete car on fire. The flames make it hard to spot that it wasn't a real car. Then: they put it out again.

THEN...

presumably, they cleaned it up, repainted it, refitted the interior - and took it up to Edinburgh (or somehow found *another* Bentley cab to use, although that would be pretty difficult - it was hard enough to source the first one, they're pretty rare, and still very expensive.) My money is on that the S2 cab only is still the S1 cab only, just painted again. But either way, the s2 cab only was created to match the s1 car and interior.

THEN... the s2 Bentley arrived in Edinburgh,  all black, with 4 doors, and blue interior.

Now either it was too late, too expensive, or no one noticed/cared about the SFX cab only not matching the new Bentley, so they just rolled with it, and hoped no one would notice.

(Spoiler alert, I did notice)

S1 Bentley, belonging to my friend Jeremy, she’s named “Mary.” She’s a 1934 Bentley Derby Coupe with coachwork built by Thrupp & Maberley, in two tone grey and black with red leather interior.

Her Good Omens number plates are still in the boot, and the Velvet Underground CD is still in the passenger door pocket where Michael Sheen left it.

Now THIS is the cab only used in season 2 - as you can see, it retains the two door, black and grey colour scheme of Mary from Season 1, who was NOT used in season 2. Yes I know why she wasn’t used, and no I will not be divulging that information, as it’s private and not something for me to say. All I can tell you is that I knew before season 2 even began filming, that Mary was not going to be in it and why that was. I kept that information under my hat, until it was confirmed that they had a new car, as I didn’t want to spoil anything for anyone.

Now HERE we have the season 2 Bentley. She is NOT the same as Mary - she’s a 4 door entirely in black, with a dark blue interior, she’s not a Thrupp & Maberley body, as there were only two of those constructed, and of those two, only Mary survives. I’m not certain WHO the coachbuilder was, I don’t think she’s Mulliner or Park-Ward, but not certain. This was her in Edinburgh during filming.

Season 2 Bentley on set in Edinburgh.

... and me, with the season 2 Bentley on set in Edinburgh a few weeks ago before season 2 aired. I met her before and after her transformation - before she was taken to Edinburgh for fliming.

So, we have 2 and a half Bentleys in use between season 1 and season 2. And when you look at the colour of the seats in season 2, you will see them hop back and forth between blue and red. When they’re blue, it’s the real, fully functioning car. When they’re red, it was the cab only, so the shot will be using GCI to complete the vehicle afterwards.

Hello Neil! First of all, I loved s2 and felt the ending was perfect.

It was brought to my attention that somewhere between ep4 and ep6 the Bentley changed slightly. The bullet holes are missing and the brown leather seats are black when Crowley drives away at the end. Was this intentional or a continuity error?

P.S. My good omens book arrived today and I am over the moon.

Thank you in advance and good luck in the strike!!!

It's the same Bentley, with the same bullet-hole transfers on the windows. Same seats as you've seen before...

[fukuokanodivision]

”Enough with this disorder! Let’s mix things up a little…”

Introduction Yuno Kamora [known as “Kiiro” in rap battles] is a 4th generation butler-for-hire in the Kamora family. Presenting a well mannered facade and courteous behaviour, he’s just the right person to handle tough situations. With the next DRB on the horizon, he’s turning out to be way more than a “useless card” in OverDrive’s standard deck of attacks/defences & support.

Yuno is a young man of above average height with a trapezoid figure. He has gold eyes and blond hair neatly framing his face. He wears a charcoal dress shirt topped over a black/grey suit jacket. His lower body is covered with black dress pants with golden details and a golden wrap out the left side. He wears blackened dress shoes with white socks. For accessories, He wears a gold bracer on his left arm with an electric blue music note clip. Name Meanings *Yuno [湯の] - Hot Water *Kamora - Malagasy For “Chameleon” Aliases *Yuno = Eko/Zaria/Itsuki *Yuno-chin = Mai/Kairi *Yuno-tan = Shu *Kamora = NaYuta/Yurushi *Ore = Pronoun *Jinn Biographical Info Gender = Male Age = 27 Birthday = September 24th Ethnicity = Japanese/Irish Hair Colour = Blond Eye Colour = Gold Height = 175cm/5’9 Weight = 84kg Star Sign = Libra Markings = Hypertrophic Scars Piercings = 1 Earring On Right Ear Family = *Mother *Father [Incarcerated] *Grandparents *Older Brother *Older Sister Voiced By = Gakuto Kajiwara [Rapping] Fun Facts MC Name = Kiiro Occupation = Butler-for-hire Division = Fukuoka Team = OverDrive Position = 3rd Member Favourite Food = Soda Least Favourite Food = Sour Candies Likes = *Children *Hanging With Teammates *Lightly Spoiling Others *Pushing Forward In DRB Dislikes = *Threats On The Weak *Being “Worthless” *Arguments *Threatening Divisions [Particularly Silent Tradegy] *Criminals *Backlash/Liars Hypnosis Microphone Yuno’s Microphone is a grey olden mic on a stand with a vintage colour scheme. His Speaker takes the form of a faint ghost silhouette, Presumably of his father in a gold tint behind bars. Similarly to Mai’s speaker, The ghost strikes according to Yuno’s rapping. A few speakers are lined on the bars and across the silhouettes body. His rap ability Shuffle allows him to revert any attacks [side effects] on himself/his teammates, leaving opponents abilities harmless for the rest of the battle. This ability can be used multiple times and on any opponent, Though it depletes Yuno’s stamina after each use. Yuno’s raps centre around the value he has as a member of OverDrive. His raps Mainly speak about being seen as a support card and how he’s able to “break out of his prison.” He compares himself to a Graced Angel who’s been forgiven for his sins and will promise to make the world a better place [mentioning his father and how he will take his place to keep the bloodline.] Personality For exterior, Yuno is a well mannered and calm individual. Often acting mostly selfless to others, It goes to show he’s well liked among families [especially children] around Fukuoka. But, His interior is a little surprising. Despite retaining his relaxed demeanour, There can be times he intends to play dirty. Not intentionally, Minor loathing about other divisions comes out of his mouth, when it comes to veteran/threatening divisions to OverDrive’s mission. Not only that, He tends to slightly carry a few insults along the way to prove he isn’t some “worthless support card.” One thing he excessively loathes is criminals. He believes it isn’t fair to let people walk without punishment. Not only does this reflect love for his father, it also points at his interaction with others. Maybe most divisions are more powerful than his team, however he refuses to let any walk away. Whenever criminals are present in OverDrive’s battles, Yuno is set on locking them away. Background Born to Kiyomi and Itsuki Kamora, Yuno had a slow childhood with his grandparents Wataru and Haori Kamora and siblings Shu and Zaria Kamora. Days after his fathers arrest, the Kamora name was in backlash of “territorial acts.” Yuno’s appointments were short with parents making excuses not to let him see their children. Not only that, children who believed that were quick to assault him aggressively and swear him to be taken in by the devil. Being OverDrives final member, his patience usually runs thin with other contestants. Aside from criminals, he also dislikes liars and promises to unearth them and their pasts [Via “Kamora Files.”]