#just a lighter shade of gray then I would have chosen for myself

[foxgloveinspace]

You guys I finished my sweater!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pics this weekend, I’m too tired tonight and I have to do something still, and tomorrow I go grocery shopping, so no time then either, but I’ll definitely have pics on Sunday, maybe Saturday.

@thoseeyeslikefire @absentviolet

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

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The next day, Marinette woke up in her bed, still dressed. By the time her father brought her into her room, she was already asleep. The emotions finally caught up with her somewhere along the way. Remembering the end of the evening, her eyes immediately latched onto her finger, but the ring was not there. A mere second before a panic attack, she looked at the bedside table, where both the box and the ring rested. She let out a breath. She didn’t lose it. 

“Morning cupcake,” a voice startled her. “Are you okay?” Her father was looking through the repealed doors. 

“Yeah… Did yesterday really happen?”

“We are still at Wayne Manor and I seem to remember to have put the ring on the night table.” 

“I can’t believe he actually proposed!” Marinette jumped off the bed and started to pace around with a dreamy look on her face. “I mean I know we are married, but it was still so romantic! And in front of so many people! Oh, Papa! I’m so happy!” She fell back onto her bed. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, cupcake. Remember that your Maman and I will always be here for you.” His smile took a sadder shade. “I know you’re almost a grown-up with a job and all, but to us you will always be the same little girl that I used to fit in the palm of my hand.” 

“Don’t worry Papa. I won’t forget you and Maman.”

“Good. Now let’s go open the presents! Race you!” He ran out of her room and toward the big tree in the hall. Mari giggled at her father’s antics before following him; the ring shining on her finger. 

In the back, Tikki floated with a big smile on her face. Her chosen finally had a chance for some happiness. If only that ruddy alley cat did not run away with the miraculous. She could still feel Nooroo and Duusu active. She could wait one more day before telling Marinette though. The girl deserved a peaceful Christmas.

---------

By the time Marinette arrived by the tree, most of the people were already gathered. Dick was seated in a large armchair next to a pile of gifts. He was dressed in a full Santa Claus outfit, complete with a fake beard. The only reason she recognized him was because of his voice.

“Now that everyone’s here, who wants…” He started, but someone interrupted. 

“Before that, I need to apologize.” Johnathan Kent turned toward Marinette. “Yesterday, after you left, I made some unsavory accusations about you, for which I want to deeply apologize.” Just for a second, his eyes jumped toward Sabine. The girl noted that her mother was glaring at the older man. “I’m a simple man and this… secret world you all live in is strange for me. Please, accept my sincere apology.” 

“Oh… No problem Mr. Kent. To be honest I’m still getting used to it all myself.” She smiled at him. Marinette was not that oblivious not to guess what kind of accusations the older man had made. 

“With that out of the way, I think we can get started. Maybe let’s begin with the youngest?” Dick said, trying to imitate how the real Santa Claus would sound. Marinette would admit that he was close.

“Me! Me!” Mar’i started floating in the air until Jon pulled her gently to the ground. He really got into the ‘older brother’ role. 

“Yes, you, sweetheart.” 

Mar’i received several gifts from the pile. Marinette was surprised to see one from her family. Inside were several baked goods from their bakery. She didn’t remember her parents packing any, but maybe they made them here.

“Me next!” Jon was giddy. His pile of gifts was slightly smaller, but there was a box of sweets there too. 

After that, it was Marinette’s turn. She received probably even more than Mar’i. There were also gifts from her Nona, grandfather, uncle Wang, one without a name tag that she was pretty sure came from aunt Sandra, a giant box from Chloe, and a small one that she had no idea who sent her. It was wrapped with a paper with black cats that would look better somewhere around Halloween, but she was too distracted to question it. Damian was busy arguing with Jon about whether he would get the Kryptonite knuckle dusters or not. 

She started with the largest box that Chloé sent her. Inside, there was a giant chest filled to the brim with detective novels and a letter that she chose to read when she was alone. Next was the gift from her uncle, which turned out to be an intricately decorated stone bowl for mixing ingredients. 

Her grandfather got her a beautiful rolling pin made half from cherry wood and half from solidified resin. The resin was in dark green color that reminded her of Damian’s eyes. But Roland had no idea about that, did he…?

Many gifts were some nice fabrics, a gift card to Gabriel, which she was tempted to burn as soon as she got it, but out of politeness just put it back into the box for now. Finally, the gift from aunt Sandra contained a set of beautiful daggers, a Katana, and a hairpin that had a space to pour poison inside. 

Her parents gave her a new rope dart, this time with a sharp end that she could use in combat. The line it was attached to was made from titanium-carbon alloy that would be able to withstand point-pressure of at least two tonnes. The weapon itself was practical instead of good-looking. The blade was thick, looking a bit like a diamond. The edges were sharp and the tip very pointy. The grip of the weapon was wrapped in a red cord for a more comfortable grip. Mari thanked them both before pocketing the weapon into her bag for now. She would probably fashion a better place for it.

Finally, only one box remained. The mysterious cats. Mari was about to open it when Jon noted it and leaped at her. The bow came undone the moment he covered the small box with his body. Everyone waited, watching carefully what was going on.

Nothing happened.

“Tt. Kent? Mind explaining to us why you decided to smash my Angel’s gift?” Damian glared at him.

“Um… I might have accidentally scanned it. You don’t want to see what’s inside. I definitely don’t want to see what’s inside ever again,” he shuddered. 

“Show me,” Sabine demanded. She picked up the squashed box and opened the top before closing it. A small lighter made its way into her hand and before anyone knew better, it was aflame. Seeing people staring at her, she smiled. “Nothing to worry about. It was a terrible prank.” She wrapped the now-charred remains and some vaguely straight shape into the torn paper. 

“What was this Maman?”

“A very distasteful prank.”

Marinette looked at the shape in her mother’s hand and her blood suddenly ran cold. It was shaped like a knife. The knife.

“No… He knows?! He can’t know!” She panicked, but Damian quickly pulled her closer to him, immediately soothing her some. 

“No, Sweetie. That bastard thought he would appease you by offering a painting of a stabbed Ladybug.” Sabine’s expression was heralding God’s wrath.

Jason growled. “He is sick.”

Next to him, Tim muttered so that only Stephanie could hear him. “You gave B. a crowbar on your first Christmas back…” Superman heard it too, judging from his reaction. 

“So what now?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we won’t be coming back beyond ‘appearing’ at the airport when your class is scheduled to leave. I still can’t believe how incompetent your teacher must be to force you to travel with them.”

“I know it might sound stupid, but I think you will be safest in Gotham City.” Lois offered. 

Mari nodded sharply before cuddling into Damian. “Don’t worry, Angel. I will protect you.” He reassured her while hugging her close to his heart.

“I can protect myself.” She huffed but didn’t reject his hug. 

“That I don’t doubt.”

“There is a good chance he won’t be able to reach you in Gotham anyway. He is just one kid, which will make crossing the border much harder for him.” Stephanie pointed. 

“He has his daddy’s money. That will probably be enough.”

“Let’s hope not. I will send the warning to the border control that he might be trying to enter the country, but that’s the best I can do.” 

“Meanwhile I will go check if my guns are working…” Jason tried to leave, only for Tim to grab the back of his jacket and pull him back into place.

“There is no point worrying for now. Let’s just enjoy Christmas.” Sabine nodded for everyone to return to gifts. When no one was looking at her, she pulled Jon to the side and placed the knife paper on the stone floor. They didn’t speak, not to start another drama, but the boy understood. A short heat-vision later the knife was no more than a piece of smoking paper and molten steel.

--------------

A blonde boy walked toward the terminal. He was dressed in a light gray long-sleeved dress shirt underneath a dark gray vest. He also sported a black necktie, dark gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. His hair was combed back, adding to the impeccable look. The green eyes swept over the guards as they observed him closely. He presented the passport.

He noted that it took them longer than it should. His eyes fell on the wanted poster next to the guards. 

“I’m not my idiotic cousin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah… Um…” The guard that was speaking to him was clearly confused. 

“Really? Ugh! That idiot decided to play supervillain and suddenly I have to suffer for it! I am not Adrien Agreste.” He ruffled through his bag, not caring that several guards almost drew their weapons. He finally pulled out a magazine with him and Adrien standing side by side, modeling for Gabriel. When side by side, the difference in their styles was even more pronounced.

“Apologies, mister. You must understand thought…” The man started to back-track.

“Yeah yeah. Spare the prostrating.” He dismissed the guard and walked past the checkpoint. Once he was out of the hearing range, he grinned. “It’s not you that I want to see on the floor…” He whispered omniously. 

-----------

Marinette and Sabine arrived through a portal five minutes from the airport, with ten minutes to spare before class was scheduled to meet. The two did not carry any luggage so they would get past the customs much faster. An upside to having all your things brought through a magical portal the day before. 

The airport was buzzing with activity. Marinette and her mother quickly got past the checkpoint and met with Chloé, who awaited them eagerly. 

“Dupain-Cheng! How was Christmas with the Waynes?” She asked in a hushed voice, so the class didn’t hear her. 

“Well…” Mari grinned before showing the blonde her ring.

“What? Now that’s what I call a good Christmas gift.” 

“How did you like the belt?” Marinette asked. In response, Chloé showed her that she was already wearing it. It was white with some golden glitter around the elegant buckle. There was a barely visible MDC logo etched on the buckle. The designer worked on it for some time before repurposing it as a Christmas gift. She had to cut on the glitter decorations, but in the end, the more minimalistic design appealed to Chloé. 

Sabine watched the two girls talk. A year ago, the woman wouldn’t believe her eyes if Marinette and Chloé acted this friendly. Now though, they were cute. 

“Did you get my gift?” The blonde asked impatiently.

“Um… Yes. The books are great.” 

“What was under the books!” The girl whispered, hoping to avoid Sabine’s watchful eye and ear.

“What?” Marinette looked surprised and Chloé had to resist the urge to facepalm. 

“Honestly Dupain-Cheng! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

And then the mood was broken when the rest of the class found them. 

“Good morning Marinette.” Madame Bustier greeted the girl. “Sabine.” 

The older woman did not return the greeting. “It’s Madame Cheng. We are here in the role of chaperones.” She almost seethes. “Let’s keep at least the illusion of professionalism.”

“Um… right. Moving on kids!” The slightly embarrassed teacher declared. 

“She is just as bad as Maribrat,” Alya muttered to Lila when she thought Sabine couldn’t hear her. The glare she received in response made it clear she made a mistake in her judgment.

After they got to the plane, people started to whisper when Chloé and Marinette didn’t join them in the economy class where they had their tickets. Instead, the two left for the first class. 

“Why aren’t they joining us!?”

“Because Chloé’s father paid for hers and I can afford mine.” Marinette normally would be against such blatant flaunting of wealth, but she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing it a bit into them that she earned the luxury. 

“She probably…” Kim suddenly lost his ability to speak when he was met eye-to-eye with Sabine Cheng. 

“Think carefully about what you want to say next.” 

He could almost see the flames of hell burning brightly behind her. “Um… she probably earned it?”

“Good boy.” 

“While I agree that Marinette earned it,” Caline started speaking and Sabine, Chloé, and the girl in question all had to resist the urge to groan, sensing there was more to that sentence. “I think it would be preferable if the girls joined the class for the duration of the flight. It would serve to strengthen the bonds between kids.” 

“And how exactly do you plan on fitting them when all the places in this place are bought out. Not to mention the price difference. Or maybe you thought money was not a problem?” Sabine asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm. 

Before Caline could answer, Lila decided to open her mouth. “Maybe Madame Bustier and you, madame could switch places with them. We know how hard our teacher worked and a bit of relaxation and comfort would do her good. You too could probably relax a bit from all the hard work in that Bakery.” 

Immediately after that, everyone started to agree and try to convince the chaperones to leave them alone. Sabine was about to protest when Caline spoke up. “Well, I think it would be acceptable, provided the girls agree.” She sent both a glare. 

Sabine’s blood boiled. She wasn’t sure if any normal girl would actually have the strength to stand up to a teacher in that position. Only the fact that Marinette looked completely unbothered stopped her from reacting. 

“Of course they won’t agree! They are too selfish!” Alya shouted. 

Some of the people on the plane started to stare at the group, with many gazes falling on Marinette and Chloé. 

The blonde scoffed, but her best friend grinned. “Sure.” She pulled her ticket and handed her to the teacher. “But we’re blocking the flight, so let’s move.”

Chloé handed hers to Sabine, smiling politely at the woman. “Marinette suspected this would end like that.” She whispered before taking a seat next to Dupain-Cheng. Both girls pulled out old-fashioned dictaphones and started recording what was going on with the class. Then Chloé gave Mari one of her detective novels and they started reading. 

Sabine shook her head. Her little girl had a plan and she would trust her. And after seeing Lila in action, she now had some idea how that liar worked. The way she manipulated people’s opinion reminded her in some ways of the assassin training she underwent. 

-----

The plane was already half-way to Gotham. Sabine did her best to ignore Caliné’s rambling about Marinette, switching between praising her and making her into the heart of all the problems with the class. If she didn’t know better, Sabine would think that the teacher had some sort of mental disorder. Beyond simple stupidity that is. 

Out of the blue, Caliné stopped rambling and Sabine saw her asleep, snoring lightly. 

“A strong sedative. It should give us at least an hour of peace.” A calm voice spoke from behind her. 

“Sandra.” Sabine greeted her sister politely, but without the usual cheerfulness. “Clever of you to choose here of all places to meet me. Don’t think that it will let you escape my wrath. You left that girl on the mercy of a monster.” 

“Cassandra was… I did regret what I did, but I couldn’t risk trying to reclaim her. Not until I was sure she could defend herself.” Sandra said, allowing emotions to enter her voice. Sabine could tell she was genuinely saddened by the situation. 

“You could’ve brought her to me. I would raise her along Marinette without a second thought. And you know that nobody would dare to come after me.” The older turned in her seat to glare at her sister. Two men at her side were both also sleeping, each with a small wound on their neck. They had complete privacy. 

“I… I’m sorry. By the time I managed to find her again, I… I was ashamed. I admit that it pained me to see what Cain did to her. But I couldn’t…”

“We will talk about it when I can scream at you properly.” Sabine cut her off. “For now I want to know what is so important you decided to show up personally, risking my wrath.”

“The boy has allies.” 

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but they are influential enough to shield him from many of my contacts.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you tried. As opposed to with your daughter.”

“I deserve it…” Sandra lowered her head. 

“Yes, you do.” Sabine huffed. 

“If I find the kid…” 

“He sent Mari the knife he stabbed Ladybug with. I have no idea how he got his sticky hands on it…” 

“You still have the bag, right?”

“Already waiting for me in Gotham.”

“I will try digging some more, but I’m getting blocked at each turn.”

“Meanwhile I will keep both our girls safe.”

“I got the picture of Talia by the way.” Lady Shiva allowed a smile to ghost her face. “I carry it framed and put it by my bed. She got a few copies too.” 

“Good. That might remind her not to trifle with us.” The sisters shared a laugh, but Sabine was still angry and it showed. She would give her sister a piece of her mind when the time came. 

-----------

A figure stood cloaked in shadows. The small screen showed a series of images. 

“Poison Ivy; Bane; Penguin; Riddler; Mr. Freeze; Two-Face; Scarecrow; Clayface; Falcone; Harley Quinn; Killer Croc; Joker…” 

“The previous Hawkmoth was a fool.” Another figure spoke from the shadows. Their voice was neither feminine nor masculine. “He stuck to a moral high ground, giving powers to untrained kids. Then again, he was fighting kids.” 

A small, butterfly-like creature floated in the air. “But that is precisely what the Butterfly Miraculous is supposed to do! Its powers will work best with the common people.” 

“Interesting.” The main figure grinned. “So my father wasn’t such a fool after all.” He laughed when another image appeared on the screen. “And I see that my trap is already working.”

Duusuu had to hide from fear. This was not the kind boy they knew. What could’ve happened to Chat Noir, the great kind Chat Noir that made him into… this.

-------

Masterlist // Next

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

Amusement Park

Part 11 of the Guardian fanfic (and we’re almost to the end)! If you would like to read this in chronological order and don’t feel like tag surfing, this is also available on AO3.

Not everything my humans do ends in tragedy. Occasionally, they have something resembling fun.

Digging in the Archives led them to one of those traveling amusement parks that sometimes took over parking lots for a week. I'd seen it at a distance but frankly, the screaming and the smell of cotton candy hadn’t instilled much confidence.

You'll hate it, the house informed me. It had given me a pendant through which it talked, sometimes. I was still getting used to the mansion’s constant presence.

For once, the entity was uncharacteristically wrong. I didn't totally hate the amusement park.  The place was loud and there were far too many people, plus it all smelled vaguely of vomit. But my humans had a good time, and that somehow made up for the rest of it.

Arada and Overse held hands and bought themselves giant hot dogs. Baradwahj kept stopping to doodle in her sketchbook. Even Gurathin, who as far as I knew didn't like anything that entailed having fun, was having a good time as he argued air resistance and thermodynamics with Volsecu.

I was walking alongside Dr. Mensah, on two legs at that.

"Have you ever been on a Ferris wheel?" she asked.

I shook my head. If wolves had been intended to leave the ground, we'd have wings. And seeing as how we didn't, I didn't want to chance it. It must've shown on my face because Mensah laughed and touched my shoulder.

"You look like I suggested an execution."

"Yeah, maybe."

"It's perfectly safe."

"It doesn't look safe." How was I supposed to protect my clients if they were going to get on something that rickety?

The house offered unhelpful information, starting with when Ferris wheels were invented and the statistics of accidents and injuries.

Mensah shook her head, clearly amused at the whole thing, and stopped in front of a food vendor. Money exchanged hands, and suddenly she had this puffy ball of sugar on a stick. It was a hideous shade of pink.

"Want to try a bite?" she asked.

"Hell no!"

She snorted. "You could use more meat on your bones, you know."

"That... thing isn't food."

The rest of the group was up ahead, stopped in front of a small building that read "Fun House of Mirrors." These words didn't look right together, but fuck it, I don't understand humans and I couldn't care less what they considered fun.

"Over here!" Arada yelled, waving her hands.

Mensah waved back and started walking again. Normally, I do at most a half-assed version of my job. A decade in, I've come to the conclusion that humans are somehow drawn to danger, and frankly, stopping them is a waste of breath. But these humans... I didn't want anything to happen to them, so I'd been paying attention.

So, when a clown walked between me and them, I growled at the weirdly-dressed human. Except, it didn't smell human at all. It smelled... like me, like another were-creature. I didn't see a collar, so it wasn't a guardian. Just a free were-creature, one that hadn’t been caught by the department.

We’re supposed to report unregistered users of dark magic to the department. But, my binding almost never picked up when such a creature was around—it certainly wasn’t reacting now—and I had no plans of telling the department a damn thing.

The clown planted itself in front of me. "Oh wow," it—correction, she—said, suddenly excited. "Oh my god, you're like the only other shapeshifter I've met. Shit! This is awesome. Oh, god, can I...uh, take a picture?"

The team noticed my absence and came over, and then, there was nowhere to run. I stood around awkwardly while they chatted with the other were-creature, whose name was Tasha and who turned into a bear but had started as a human. And then they exchanged phone numbers. And I was just standing there, trying not to look as uncomfortable as I felt.

"You OK?" Tasha wanted to know all of a sudden.

"Fine."

"You look about a mile down the road from fine," she pointed out. "I can practically see you trying to crawl out of your skin."

"So?"

"So, you need to relax a little," she told me, oblivious.

Mensah carefully explained that I was currently working. Tasha patted my shoulder, and I almost jumped backward. It took effort to stay still and not bite the were-bear's hand off.

"Stop that," I growled.

Tasha handed me a balloon, one of the many she was holding and giving out to kids. I just stood there, string in hand, and tried to puzzle out what the fuck I was supposed to do with it. You can't really kill anyone with a balloon, and you can't eat it.

Ratthi said, "It's very purple."

I looked up at the floating ball. "What do you do with it?"

"Hold it for a while and then let it go and watch it fly away."

"What for?"

Humans often engage in rituals that bring them joy. It doesn’t always have meaning, the entity told me like I didn’t know. I wished I could glare but there was no one to glare at.

"Fun." Tasha was in my face. "The whole purpose of this place is to have some fun. It makes living a little easier, a little lighter."

I looked at Dr. Mensah like I needed rescuing all of a sudden.

"Come on," she said quietly. "Let's go see if we can find you something that's actual food." She smiled at the were-bear. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Tasha. Feel free to reach out to us anytime."

After lunch, we entered the funhouse.

I know humans are supposed to be delighted in things that bend the mind, but the house of mirrors gave me the creeps. I felt sufficiently unnerved to switch back into my wolf form. On the off chance that we got attacked three steps past the front door, I was ready.

I walked ahead of the rest of the investigative team, using my superior senses to seek out our target. But, frankly, I doubted the sanity of any creature that would make its home in this horrible place.

I stopped in front of a set of mirrors that distorted human proportions. Standing on four feet and only half as tall as the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I could still mostly identify what I was looking at. Trust humans to enjoy something as convoluted and mind-bending as this place.

And then a shadow walked straight out of the mirror and past me toward the investigators. It was a silhouette of a person, outlined in gray and green sparks of light. It sang as it moved, each word visible in the fog-shrouded room.

The words were literally spilling out of its mouth like confetti and falling on the ground.

I decided that this monster had bigger problems than a group of curious investigators to deal with.

"Indeed," said the strange spirit and the word plopped on the ground like a meatball. "This is what you might call a curse."

I yipped at it softly. "What kind of curse?"

It, of course, had no idea what I was saying. The mansion helped translate, somehow able to communicate with the creature just because of the pendant's proximity to the monster.

"The kind born of ill intentions," the spirit answered just as the humans caught up.

I placed myself squarely between them and the spirit, moving so that, if it tried anything, it would have to go through me.

Mensah put a hand on my back, between my shoulder blades, as a heads-up that she was standing beside me. I shivered at the unsolicited touch. Baradwahj was taking notes, and in the brief silence I could easily make out the sound of her pencil scraping against paper.

"I wondered why so many beings of light were suddenly in my domain," the creature said, and the words floated away, carried by an unseen breeze. "But now, I understand. The humans beyond these walls never cease to surprise me."

Overse, whose magic also had a connection to words and writing, stepped forward. "Who are you?"

"A difficult question, human." The cursed being rose above the floor on bare feet and twirled before us. "Once, perhaps I was human. But then I was cursed, for speaking the words that needed to be said. And the curse is renewed with each passing moon. For fifty years now, unceasing and unfailing."

"Can you tell us who cursed you?"

"I never knew her name. But she was... beautiful. Like the light of a new moon falling on a still, silent lake."

I heard whispers among the group. Finally, Overse said, "If we could find the one who cursed you, perhaps we could convince her to lift it."

"Perhaps."

The spirit flittered past me and between the humans. It passed through them untouched and didn't appear to cause them any harm. Sparks of green light landed in her wake.

I knew the humans wouldn't leave this alone, so I shapeshifted and became human. The spirit turned to face me now that there were eight people between us, haphazardly arranged and staring.

"So you're more than a wolf."

"And you're more than a prisoner," I countered.

"A curse is a curse." The creature shrugged.

"Not every curse is the same. Why the mirrors?"

"So that I might remember the importance of the human shape, the wonder of what it means to be born a human being." She spit the words out.

I had a sudden, inexplicable moment of clarity. "The head of the department did this, didn't she?"

"You're a smart one, little wolf."

No, not smart. Just good at remembering terrible things at inappropriate times. Mensah did this complicated thing where she got a little closer but didn't touch, like just existing would somehow prop me up. I don't know why. It's not like I cared what happened to this spirit or the uptight asshole of a human who chaired the department.

Overse and Arada grasped hands. Ratthi looked so very, utterly sad.

Mensah made a decision. I like how she thinks hard about her choices but once she's chosen, it's full steam ahead. I hate humans who waffle about things.

"We're leaving," she told the team. "There's nothing more we can do here. The Archives got it wrong this time. Guardian, we have some things we need to do tomorrow. So you have the day off."

[thenamesseven]

Warnings: Smut scene ahead!

Since you had accepted spending your morning with Jackson, Jaebum got quiet. He was probably upset but was still giving you soft smiles and making small talk with you to try not to look the same way he felt which you honestly appreciated.

Jackson, on the other hand, had not shut up since the minute you decided going shopping. He kept telling you which shops he wanted to visit the most, Jackson also continously mentioned a new make up shop that he couldn't wait to check out with you. You were asked lots of questions of what you needed the most like new shoes, new dresses, maybe some hoodies. He was clearly bragging about being ready to spoil you just to make Jaebum jealous.

Thankfully the other male focused on finishing his breakfast and headed back into your bedroom saying he would lay down for a little bit more.

"I'll get dressed while you take a shower, okay?" Jackson wrapped his arms around your hips pulling your body closer to him once Jaebum was gone. This was nothing weird coming from him, this guy loved getting attention and you didn't mind giving him some at all "I would join you but then we would never get out of this apartment" He chuckled kissing your cheek, his lips moving down onto your neck.

Whatever tension had existed on your muscles was gone once Jackson started leaving random kisses on your skin as he kept you gently pressed against his hard chest.

"Stop being so..."

"So?" Jackson arched an eyebrow, the smirk he sent you made your heart melt

"Let me shower already!"

You pushed Jackson away to walk down the hall and into the bathroom, you could still hear his laugh when you closed the door behind you just to find an almost naked Jaebum shaving. He had a towel wrapped around his waist but he wasn't wet which meant that he hadn't showered yet. His focused eyes moved away from his shaved chin to the reflection of your face on the mirror.

"Oh...I was...Have you taken a shower?" You asked looking at Jaebum, he quietly shook his head "Ah well, I'll take one when Im back before heading to the studio" You muttered turning around, scratching the back of your neck.

"Let's shower together" His voice broke the semi awkward silence between you two. You turned around with your arms crossed on your chest, frowning a little. Seeing your expression Jaebum smiled "I won't fuck you against the wall, I know how to control myself, you know?" You couldn't help but blush realizing how easily he had guessed what you were thinking "I'll just shower with you, I might ask you to rub my back though" He added jokingly.

You were glad that Jaebum was back to his old self with his silly jokes and chilly attitude. In fact, you let out a sigh full of relief you didn't know you had been holding when you saw his easy going smile.

"Alright, let's do this" You answered, reaching down to take off the oversize shirt you had worn to sleep. The rest of your clothes, which only were your bra and panties, came off pretty quickly and in brief seconds you were inside the shower with Jaebum.

He gently turned on the water, waiting for it to get warm before placing you under the shower head. As he had promised, Jaebum didn't try anything dirty, his hands only touched you to help you wash yourself or to simply caress your skin. You had thought he would end up trying to turn you on but now that both of you were getting out of the shower and he hadn't even rubbed his hard on against you, you knew he wouldn't break his promise.

"Have fun with Jackson, buy lots of stuff" He leaned down to peck your lips gently, smiling softly "I'll wait for you at the studio tonight"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jackson was beaming with happiness when you stopped the car on a parking spot, taking out the keys from the ignition and reaching out to turn off the radio. He had had a huge smile on his face all the way to the shopping center and you couldn't tell if it was because he still felt really happy that you had chosen him over Jaebum or because he really missed going shopping with you.

Shopping with an idol was hard, Jackson had chosen to wear an entirely black outfit and even though he was also wearing a cap and a mask, some people managed to recognize him. Maybe it was because of his beautiful eyes, maybe because of the way his bleached hair stood out or the way he walked. Because of those little details that poor Jackson couldn't hide no matter what, there was a small chance of your shopping trip getting ruined by thousands of fans screaming for your boyfriend's attention.

"I need to get some sweat pants, mine are getting too old" He muttered as you both got out of the car and started walking towards the entrance. You never held hands in public unless Jackson was sure he wasn't going to get recognised all of a sudden. It wasn't because he was ashamed of dating you but because he always said you didn't need some of his crazy fans insulting you.

"Mhm, I want to get a new hoodie" You replied, sliding your hands into your own pockets, looking around when you started walking closer to more people. "We should also get Jae something since he couldn't come and had to stay at the studio working"

You heard Jackson's slightly frustrated sigh, you weren't looking at him but you so knew he was rolling his eyes "What does he need?" He asked glancing down at you as you both entered the mall.

"Maybe just another hoodie, some of his are worn out" You mumbled motioning to a sports clothes shop that was near the entrance "Let's check that out!"

Before he could complain about you already willing to check every single shop in the mall, you grabbed his hand and dragged him inside the shop with you. Since he was the one that claimed to urgently need some new clothes you walked directly into the guys' zone and started helping Jackson looking for sweatpants you knew he would like.

"Gray or black?" He asked looking at you for your opinion

"Both?" You replied unable to decide, Jackson smirked a little biting his lip

"I thought you girls thought gray sweatpants look more sexy than black ones" He was right but again, Jackson loved wearing black clothes so you didn't want him to buy something he would be uncomfortable in, just because you thought it was sexy.

"You look sexy even in a plastic bag, Jackson" You rolled your eyes when the smirk on his face got even bigger as you turned around to start looking for a hoodie for you and another one for Jae.

"I think I'll change a little and get some gray sweatpants because I know you secretly like them more" He leaned down from behind you to press a kiss on your cheek, his hand squeezing your ass gently before he moved away.

Something you had noticed on both males is that they seemed to have changed roles with each other. While Jackson used to be the cutest person ever and loved getting your attention he had got slightly more dominant around you and treated you more sexually just like Jaebum used to do. Now Jaebum seemed to be what Jackson used to do, claim your attention and not necessarily getting sexual which meant lots of hugs, smiles, compliments and kisses.

Why were they acting like the other? You had no idea but you just hoped it was a phase.

It didn't took too much time for you and Jackson to get your shopping addicted side out. Soon the both of you were getting in and out of shops with a couple of plastic bags filled with new outfits, new shoes or new accesories. Jackson seemed to be in a good mood so you took advantage of that and pulled him into the make up shop without him noticing, he didn't like buying make up even though he wore some daily to cover the black bags under his eyes or to make his features more defined.

"You look pretty without any of this shit" He said groaning as you pulled him deeper, making a bee line to the lipstick area. The compliment stole a smile from you.

"Thanks but I really need a new red lipstick, mine it's almost over" You heard Jackson whining like a small kid as you stood there infront of the stan to look at the colors.

You picked up one of the lipsticks, a dark red shade that you had never tried out before and with the tester you drew a small line on the back of your hand to check out the colour. It looked nice, kind of diferente to what you usually wore.

"Too dark" Jackson said from behind you, making you turn around to face him.

"Really? I kind of like it though, it's different than the one I usualy put on" Jackson shrugged scratching the back of his neck as his eyes scanned all the different tones of red that there was. His eyebrows furrowed cutely before he reached out and grabbed another lipstick, a light one.

"Try this one" He asked with a small smile "Can't you try it on?"

"No, everybody used this, I'm not putting that in my mouth"

"That's what you said the first time we-"

"No! Stop! I'll just try it on my hand" You cut him off before he could finish his sentence, Jackson pouted cutely at you before he waited for you to try the lipstick on your skin.

It wasn't too bad, kind of more lighter than the usual red lipstick you wore but also more brighter, it was the type of lipstick you put on when you wanted everybody's attention on your lips. After Jackson saw it there was no way of rejecting the idea of buying it. He would start pouting and being all sulky if you dared to say no to him.

Once you had got some make up stuff you really needed, you were already trying to decide which place you wanted to go to for lunch but before you could tell Jackson you felt like getting some fried chicken he unexpectedly pulled you into a lingerie shop.

You liked lingerie but you didn't wear it too often, just for really special occasions. Jaebum and Jackson made you feel like the most sexy girl in this world since you got all kinds of affection and praises from them so you barely needed lingerie to make you feel better or to spice thing up, honestly, having to dominant males in your bed for just yourself was enough.

"Hmm, let's get you something from here" He muttered holding your hand, looking around as he searched for his favorite outfit. He seemed really excited about finding something for you so instead of looking yourself you simply followed him around, looking at what he picked up before placing it back in it's place.

Until he found the one.

It was some black lacy lingerie, panties and a bralette that matched perfectly. It looked cute but extremely hot at the same time. He handed it to you with a small and innocent smile, pulling you to the changing rooms so you could try it on.

Standing infront of a mirror, between three walls and a curtain you couldn't help but sigh. It was a bit cold and you definitely didn't feel like undressing yourself completely to try on a pair of panties and a bra. Not feeling too entuthiastic about the whole lingerie shopping thing you started taking off all of your clothes leaving your panties on to put the shop one's onto them.

Once you had put what Jackson chose on, you couldn't take your eyes off your reflection. It fascinated you how Jackson had found the perfect size and thing for your body at the first try, you were just shocked that he had done it so easily when sometimes you spent hours trying to find the right thing.

"How is it?" The curtains moved enough so Jsckson could peek inside, his eyes instantly landing on your body as he smirked "Im paying for that and ask if they have another one because I know I'll rip that off you" You chuckled looking at him, gently blushing at the way his eyes were wandering around your figure "Dear God don't do that (Y/N)" He groaned walking into the changing room with you, pulling you closer to his hard body.

"J-Jackson!" You half shouted, half whispered "You can't be here! I-I'm not doing anything!"

"You can't blush and look so innocent while you are probably imagining how hard I would fuck you after tearing that from your body" He mumbled with his face hidden in your hair, breathing in your scent. His hands quickly went down your body to squeeze your ass roughly "God damnit kitten, I need you"

You gasped at his words when his hard member started poking your lower stomach through his jeans "W-what?" You tried to sound mad but you quickly started stuttering "Jackson not here, somebody could see us" You whispered trying to push him away "You're an idol! Wouldn't it be a scandal if we get caught?"

"Fuck being an idol, I really need to put my dick inside of you right now" He said those filthy words looking into your eyes, quickly pressing his lips against yours before you could complain.

"Jackson shut up and get out" You whispered against his lips, trying to stop his hands from pulling your lingerie down.

Jackson turned you around roughly, his hands moving up to hold yours before he placed them on the mirror infront of you. With your face incredibly red you looked into his deep dark lusted eyes as he leaned down on your body to whisper against your ear.

"Kitten let me make you feel good, if you try to stop me again I'll rip those panties before buying them and everybody will now what we did" You gasped at his words, one of his hands moving under your panties to rub your sensitive and slightly swollen clit "You like this don't you? The risk of being caught" He grinned looking at you in the mirror, rubbing harder and faster "Your such a bad girl, mhm kitten?"

He pulled your panties down and spreaded your legs more before he started undoing his zipper with his free hand. After a few seconds you could already feel his hard cock rubbing against both of your wet pussy lips.

"You better not make any sounds kitten" He whispered kissing your neck still moving his hips back and forward slowly "We need to be fast and quiet" One of his hands made its way up to your mouth and covering it, he pushed himself inside of you in a one long thrust. On the mirror, you could see his eyes rolling to the back of his head as your walls clenched around him, his muscles getting tense with pleasure as he stayed inside of you "(Y/N)...H-Holy shit..." He whispered, moaning quietly against your ear, your legs almost giving up there. Luckily, he still had an arm around your body keeping you up and against him so you wouldn't fall down to the floor.

After a couple of seconds that Jackson gave you to adjust to his length he started moving his hips roughly against yours. It wasn't something similar to what you and Jackson used to do, this was passionate but rougher, less romantic and more needy kind of like Jaebum style. The fact that you could see his expression on the mirror infront of you made everything better and the way you could hear the people on the changing rooms next to yours drove you mad.

Feeling your body tense Jackson started moving faster, keeping the noises he was making as low as posible as he fucked you. Honestly, you didn't know how he was still being so rational, how he could control himself so much when you would probably be screaming if it wasn't for the hand he kept on your mouth. Pulling you back against his body and without stopping his thrusts, Jackson pressed his lips against yours, moaning in the kiss.

"Kitten..." He whispered breathless, closing his eyes as his thrusts became harder, noisier. He was starting to lose control as both of your orgasms were almost there "Cum...Cum for me now"

You didn't need to be told twice, you let go of yourself obediently, clenching so hard around Jackson's cock that he came inside of you, filling you up with his warm cum. Now that you were able to keep yourself quiet both of his hands were down on your hips gripping you tightly as he lightly thrusted inside of you a couple of more times.

"Mhm....Such a good girl" He whispered nuzzling you, burying his face into your neck as he reached down to fix his pants "Look at that fucked out face" He smiled looking at you through the mirror again, leaving gentle kisses on your shoulder "So beautiful, you enjoyed this so much mhm?" He giggled as you blushed, looking down to pick up your clothes "Get dressed baby, let's go and grab some lunch" Jackson patted your ass softly, pulling the curtains opened enough for him to get out "I'm hungry as hell"

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Rewards of Losing:  Chapter 17

Himura Akane loved cats. She always had. From the time she was a little girl, her family always had at least two, and they’d loved her as well. Coming to Duel Academia had been difficult in more than one way, not the least of which how cats simply weren’t allowed. Most of the time it didn’t seem necessary – it was an island, after all, perhaps the teachers just didn’t want to risk kittens drowning. So she adjusted.

But when their teachers started to tell the tale of how the XYZ dimension had terrifying cats of enormous size that were the next thing to demons – and not the sort of demons that came in a deck – and could talk and stole the bonds between Healer and Firestarter – that was when she began to reconsider. Cats weren’t like that, in her experience.

She’d said nothing. She knew very well how bad it was to step out of line. Some of her friends did that and then vanished without a trace. A few rumors said that at least one of them ended up in Yuuri-sama’s private garden, eaten by his horrible man-eating plants. That, she definitely believed. She would believe any nightmare tale that had to do with Yuuri.

I knew they couldn't be true. She watched the beautiful cat – or Cat – as it walked next to her. She wanted to bury her hands in that glorious black fur but she kept them to herself. This Cat could talk. It was as intelligent as she was – maybe more so, because it hadn’t been born in Fusion dimension where it wouldn’t be wanted.

Not it. Him. Kei. She repeated the name to herself softly, too soft to be heard.

Kei tilted his head up to look at her, ears twitching. “Yes?”

Akane blushed a deep crimson red. “Oh! I didn’t mean anything – just trying to-” She fidgeted, eyes casting downward. “I’m trying to remind myself that you’re – real.”

Kei didn’t look built to smile but the way his ears twitched more and the tilt of his tail told her that he wanted to. “I’m very real.”

She nodded, drawing a breath. “All right. I’ll take you to Fusion. But what do you want to do there?”

“I’m searching for my Firestarter. He’s in the Fusion dimension.”

Akane worried at her lower lip. “Did he get captured?” That was pretty horrible, but she knew that it could happen. The Professor and their teachers made it plain that any XYZ duelist who turned out to be skilled enough should be brought there as soon as possible. She’d never seen anyone that good, but most of her companions had been intent on carding whoever they saw without mercy right away. They never even tried to test an opponent’s strength in battle.

“Something like that. Are you familiar with the name Marufuji Ryou?”

Akane’s eyes rounded and her fingers tightened. “You mean – Yuuri-sama's Firestarter to be? The one he’s been courting all this time?”

Kei’s tail lashed. “That’s the one. He’s my Firestarter – though not quite yet. It’s complicated.”

It had to be. Akane hadn’t ever seen Marufuji Ryou face to face, but she’d heard a lot of stories about how powerful he was and how only someone like Yuuri could possibly partner to him. She had to believe it; she wasn’t a Firestarter or Healer herself. She didn’t know any better.

“He’s in danger of some kind. I can’t say exactly how but I feel it.” Kei nudged his head against her hand. “Will you trust me?”

“Yes.” Akane replied without hesitation. She’d always been a little sorry for Marufuji-san. What would it be like to be partnered to Yuuri-sama forever? He was considered the best and brightest and greatest of them all, even with how cruel and sadistic he could be.

Perhaps because of how cruel and sadistic he often was.

She raised up her Duel Disk and made sure to stay in contact with Kei. Her fellow soldiers would remain here, under watch from the plants Kei commanded to capture them in the first place.

In between one second and the next, everything around them shifted, and when the world cleared up again, they stood in one of the courtyards of Duel Academia. Kei looked around, shoulders raised, whiskers twitching, drawing in a deep breath.

“A strange place,” he murmured after a few moments. “No Cats anywhere.”

“No. There aren’t any cats of any kind allowed here.” She shook her head and worried at her lip again. “Kei, are you going to need my help? I need to go talk to someone.”

Kei sniffed again, turning to one side. “I can manage to find him. But I’ll need you to get us back home.”

“What if he doesn’t want to go with you?” Akane asked without thinking. The way that Kei looked up at her made her wish that she hadn’t and she started to apologize before he shook his head.

“Then I’ll need to go home alone. But go. I can find you.” He nudged her gently. “I have your scent now.”

Akane thought that should sound a lot more terrifying than it did. Instead, she hurried away, hoping that she could find Tenjoin Asuka before it was too late. And she devoutly hoped that it wasn’t already.

Kei paced along carefully, sliding through all the shadows, ears and nose alert for the slightest trace that would lead him to Ryou. The part of him that was a Healer also reached for Ryou; without the bond it wasn’t as strong, but the closer he got to his Healer, the more aware he was of it.

So he moved carefully, keeping away from all eyes as best that he could. It looked to be late afternoon here, just as it had been in XYZ, so there were plenty of shadows for him to take refuge in. Being the shade he was, it wasn’t that hard for him to hide. All he had to do was close his eyes and it wasn’t likely anyone would check any closer.

He was careful the farther he moved along. He didn’t yet have a specific place to find Ryou, but the closer he got, the more certain he was that he was in the right trail.

The plants and trees here didn’t seem inimical to him. They were as willing to protect him as they would be any other Healer – they’d never been told not to help, because the Fusion leaders hadn’t ever thought that someone would come looking for one of their own.

Kei raised his head and sniffed the breeze. Most of the scents he found were those of the trees, bushes, flowers, and other blossoming foliage but he also caught the aroma of humans. Healers and Firestarters and none of the above – and one of them seemed a bit more familiar than it should have.

Slowly his tail twitched as he focused, attempting to track where that one came from. It dawned on him that it was getting closer and closer. Kei leaped into the concealing arms of the nearest tree, letting the leaves fold over him, and watched to see who would come by. There was only one person here that he would have sworn he recognized the scent of – Ryou – and he knew this person wasn’t Ryou.

So why did they remind him of Ryou? Kei’s claws dug into the tree branch as he watched. If someone had done something to hurt Ryou – well, Yuuri probably had. But this wasn’t Yuuri either. He knew that scent as well.

Underneath him there finally walked – someone. Kei breathed in carefully. Yes, this was the one who smelled faintly like Ryou. Not too much; he hadn’t spent time around Ryou recently. He was also a Healer, not a Firestarter with the crisp autumn scent of a nascent Frostflame. His coloring was vaguely similar, lighter shades of blue,

Kei made up his mind in a heartbeat. He leaped out of the tree, landing in front of the stranger.

“Who are you and why do you smell like my Firestarter?” Kei asked, staring at the young man’s large gray eyes. The Fusion soldier stared back at him, eyes going round as he stumbled back.

“Y- you-” He shook his head, trying to move. “You're one of those talking Cats! The Professor told us about you!” The words tumbled out over themselves. “You steal the bonds between Healers and Firestarters! You’re evil!”

Kei sighed and flexed his claws. If he had the chance, he wouldn’t mind finding some way to turn Akaba Leo into mulch. Now wasn’t the time for that pleasure, though.

“Yes, I am a Healer Cat. My name is Kei. But we do not steal bonds. We form our own between ourselves and our chosen ones.” Again his tail flicked ever so carefully. He didn’t want to scare this one if he could avoid it. “And my chosen is Marufuji Ryou.”

The Healer had taken almost half a dozen steps backward before he finished talking. Now he stopped, staring harder at Kei.

“You – you know my big brother?” His eyes somehow got larger. Kei wasn’t certain of how he managed that.

Kei settled down and wrapped his tail around his front paws. “Yes. We met while he was in my dimension and I’ve come to find him here. We have – matters to discuss.”

The Healer blinked, slowly rubbing the back of his head. “But he’s not here. He would have told me if he were coming home.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain. I have reason to believe that he didn’t come willingly.” Truth to tell, Kei wasn’t certain about that. But he would work out the details once he actually saw Ryou and could find out what happened. He brought his own gaze up to meet the Healer’s again. “You say you are brothers?”

That got a nod. “I’m Marufuji Shou – I’m supposed to join the Obelisk Force Healer Corps once I finish my education. That’s what they keep telling me – I don’t think I’m good enough, though.”

“Really.” Kei let sarcasm drip over every syllable of the word. “I can think of much better ways to use your talent than hurting others. You are a Healer. A powerful one, too.”

Shou shook his head without hesitation. “No, I’m not. I’m – I’m just about mid-level, that’s all. And I have to work for that.” Again he took a bit of a step backwards. “I have to go. I’m supposed to go work on Yuuri-sama’s Garden.”

Kei rose up to his feet. Of course! If he could find that – and now here was a way to do so. “Then we’re going to go there together.”

Shou’s mouth and eyes were now perfect circles of shock and fear. “We are?” He squeaked.

“Yes. If I don’t find Ryou there I’ll search elsewhere, but it’s a place fro me to begin.” He moved forward enough to nudge Shou with his head. Shou yelped a little, then stared down.

“You – you are a Healer, too,” he murmured, one hand reaching out. Kei allowed him to touch. Shou’s hand buried itself in his fur and he sighed quietly. “You really are a Healer Cat.”

“Of course I am. Now, can we move along? I want to find Ryou before Yuuri does whatever he has planned.”

Shou fidgeted as he started to move forward again. “What does he have planned? I mean – my brother is going to be his Firestarter. They’re courting. It’s – it’s what they both want.”

Kei strolled alongside of him. “I don’t believe it is. But it’s for Ryou to decide.”

Shou pressed his lips together, then made an attempt at a subject change. “I haven’t been on the front lines. What is it like there? Have you been?”

If he’d been human and thus capable of it, Kei would have surely facepalmed. Instead, he shook his head. “Do you think it’s something grand and glorious? That your army is doing what’s right?”

“Of course they are.” Shou blinked at him as they walked along. “Professor’s told us about how we're going to make the worlds into a much better place.”

“Really.” Oh, this was just wonderful. An entire world of people who’d been fed that same foulness. Kei didn’t have the patience to deal with them all but he’d handle this one. “What is so glorious about invading a world with no warning, having sent people to get rid of their best chances to defend themselves, and turning everyone into cards regardless of if they fought back or not?”

Shou looked as if he were about to protest. Kei regarded him calmly and the words never came. Shou said nothing else, just hurried along towards the area that Kei guessed was Yuuri’s Garden. Just coming closer to it set his hackles rising.

If there had ever been a doubt in his mind, said doubt would be dispelled now. Yuuri was a Dark Healer. Those weren’t common in Heartland, but they did appear on occasion. Those who used their powers to hurt others, who took the most twisted and depraved pleasures in what they could do. Not even being bonded to a Firestarter could always settle them. Sometimes it did, but those were often the Dark Healers who hadn’t been Dark for very long. The longer it stretched out, the less likely it was they would ever recover.

Kei approached with cautious tread, breathing in deeply, tail lashing his flanks.

“He’s here,” Kei murmured. “His scent’s all over this place. Ask the plants if you don’t believe me.”

Shou worried at his lip, then closed his eyes. Kei could feel him communing with the plants in his own way, then his eyes flashed open and he started to run towards the Garden’s opening.

“Big brother!”

Ryou wasn’t sure of how long he’d been asleep. Something woke him up; something that he wasn’t sure of. A sensation, nothing more. Was it Yuuri? Had Yuuri returned? He sat up and carefully rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, trying to get his thoughts in order.

He knew that here, in the heart of Yuuri’s Garden, he was safe and protected. Few were they who would dare to enter it without permission and if anyone did, Yuuri would happily mulch them. Or he would burn them – if his flames ever came back.

Sometimes he wondered if they ever would. That great empty gap inside of himself seemed infinite, edged all around with ice in a way that he didn’t like. If he probed at it too deeply, he suspected he would see something that he didn’t like.

“Big brother!” The cry split the air, thinned only by distance, but still familiar. Ryou stumbled to his feet, looking towards the door. A heartbeat later, Shou appeared there, disheveled and staring at him in absolute shock. Then he threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around Ryou’s waist, trembling.

At first Ryou wasn’t sure of what to think. Neither of them had really gone in for much touching, but feeling Shou there, a strong and trained Healer, settled something that felt out of balance inside of him. It wasn't the sense of bonding, but something similar that had been between them since their powers respectively manifested.

“Shou – what are you doing here? Is Yuuri-sama with you?” He probably was. Why else would Shou even be here?

Shou lifted his head up and Ryou blinked to see tears shining in his eyes. Nothing had happened for tears, at least not that he could remember. Should he remember?

“No, he’s not. And if we are fortunate, then we won’t see him at all.” Another voice spoke. It sent chills all the way down Ryou’s spine and his mouth dried up even as he looked to the door where the voice came from.

There stood a large cat, perhaps the size of a panther, with gray eyes similar to Shou’s. Slowly the creature padded forward, eyes not departing from Ryou, nostrils flaring. He couldn’t be sure how it had spoken but it had. That voice thrummed all through him.

“Big brother, are you all right?” Shou asked. “What did he do to you?”

Ryou wasn’t at all sure of what Shou meant by that. Slowly he shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“I can feel it,” Shou murmured, still clinging to him. “There’s something wrong.”

“Oh, that.” Ryou shrugged. “It’s part Firedamp and part something else Yuuri-sama’s working on to help restructure my memories.”

The Cat hissed, claws flexing. “He gave you Firedamp? And he’s doing what to your memories?”

Ryou’s eyes shifted from the Cat to Shou and back again. Both of them still seemed upset by this. The deepest part of his mind – a part that hadn’t twitched much in the days since he’d first awakened here – stirred, upset as well. Perhaps he could explain it to them.

“Helping me. I became too involved in the XYZ dimension and he is helping me. I won’t remember any of it when he’s done.” Ryou wanted to sound proud of what Yuuri’s efforts. But he knew he didn’t – though he didn’t know why. He frowned, staring at the Cat. “Do – do I know you?” The longer he stared at the Cat, the more he wanted to call it by name and ask why it was there. It shouldn’t be – it was too dangerous – it shouldn’t be here, in Fusion.

His head began to throb and his breath stuttered in his lungs as his vision blurred. He shook his head, closing his eyes, stumbling back until he fell back onto the bed, pushing Shou away as he did. Where was Yuuri-sama? Why was he here on his own? Why couldn’t he feel his flames

His head spun faster and faster with each second, until he could not have stood up if he’d wanted to, and he didn’t even try. Something was wrong and he had no idea of how to deal with any of it.

A single word worked its way out of his lips. “Kei…”

To Be Continued

Notes: We’re almost to one of what I consider the most dramatic parts! Remember I’ve been hinting all this time about how a Firestarter’s power can invert and become ice? Almost there!

[we-dream-instead-of-drown]

Rider Challenge # 1: Your Capall Uisce

Part 2

Chapter 1

In the Sea

I sat, motionless on the rock, worn boots braced on the side, ready to launch myself into the sea.. The tide was sliding closer and closer to where my huddled figure perched. I was invisible here, another black rock on a dark beach, bleeding into the black sky and water.

As the adrenaline seeped through my veins, I felt strangely more awake here. More awake than this island had ever allowed before. Every wave reared its head, imitating the Capall Uisce that would be my ride off this island.

A wave crested and my heart leapt. This is me waking up. I thought. My hands fluttered at my coat, patting pockets, wishing I had a pen and paper in one of them. It had been a thought I wanted to consider more. The multitude of pockets in this coat did however, have everything except a pen and paper.

It had been a men’s coat, belonging once to a grandfather or uncle. Now it was my coat. I had found it among the pile of coats at the back of my grandparents closet, and chosen it because every women’s coat I had ever found was distinctly lacking in pockets.

I dragged my dangerously wandering thoughts back to the ocean before me. A wave crested, close to me this time. Beneath the rushing sound there was a huff of breath.

I stared harder. The pale foam crowning the wave rose it’s head.

I flung myself into the November sea.

The moment I touched the surface of the water, I was erased. I was not bone and breath and thought. I was salt and cold and breathless. And a fool. Because only a fool would wear a wool coat two sizes too large and jump into deep water. I sank. The ocean did not care.

Neither did I. My boots struck the bottom and I leapt upward. Catching a Capall Uisce was something I only knew how to do in theory, having heard stories and watched frantic riders try.

There was a startling moment of flesh meeting flesh as my hand connected to its shoulder. On land there is the air and dust and hair between the two. Salt water is the only divide between my skin and the Capalls body, and saltwater courses through my veins, and this capall’s veins, and we and the ocean are one creature. I creeped my hand higher until I caught hold of a handful of its mane.

I felt the water shift and the flesh shiver, but I was already reaching into one of my pockets. The capalls cheek collided with my arm before it’s teeth could find something to sink into, and I pressed the polished disk of ash wood to the spot it’s jaw met it’s neck. The waterhorse leaned away, but I followed, keeping the ash against the wet skin.

The waves washed both of us closer to the beach, and as my ears dipped below the surface I heard hooves connect to the small pebbles on the bottom. I had seconds left to gain control of this horse.

Again I reached into a pocket- a different one this time. I had spent the last summer making this rope. Hours of tying knots in clusters of three into sturdy cord, twisting it together in strands of nine and soaking it in a vat of saltwater and yarrow until it had taken on a pale green shade.

In the split second the capall was distracted by finding its footing, I threw the rope across the bridge of its nose, fumbling for the the end as it swung under the jaw. I jammed the wooden disk between my teeth to free my other hand to knot the rope.

The capall was no longer distracted. The toes of my boots scuffed against the the shore as I looped the rope behind the horse's ears to make a harness of sorts.

It whipped around, nipping at the lead but shying away at the last second, sidestepping away from me, and further up the beach. I followed, boots full of water and a coat full of charms.

Every water horse responds to different things. Most will shiver at iron, some can be contained by lines in the sand. The trick is finding the right thing to calm the horse before it takes a piece of you.

An ordinary horse would rear and pull its lead. Capaill Uisce attack. I wished I had brought more iron. I spat the chunk of wood back into my palm as the horse charged towards me. As it reared it’s head back and drew its lips away from its teeth, I ducked and clapped my hand to it’s neck, allowing me enough time to wrap the rope several more times around its nose, keeping it from opening it’s mouth.

It felt cruel, as it’s nostrils flared and it pawed the ground uncomfortably.

“It’s not personal” I whispered as she- I could tell it was a she now- ducked her head and pulled at the rope. I studied her as I sorted through my pockets, relying on some mysterious instinct to tell me what to try next.

As a child I collected trinkets, most having no value. Another reason I was called blue jay, sharing their interest in odd little things. In a shoebox in the back of my closet I stored little shards of broken mirrors, smooth stones of all colors, hag stones, feathers, beads, and dozens of other useless items.

Now, I stored most of them in my coat because they were lucky.

The mare lifted her knees, trying to scrape off the cruel ropes. My fingers were transfixed on a smooth, irregular shape. I pulled it out, and though it was too dark to see it, I knew it was a piece of white sea glass.

I held it gently between my thumb and finger at arms length. She stilled. Her eyes fixed on my hand. Slowly I approached her, and she still remained calm, allowing me to place the sea glass on her forehead. Her eyes briefly closed. I held my breath, waiting for her to lunge at me. I had to reach my arm up straight to reach her forehead, which left me almost leaning against her chest.

Cautiously I held the makeshift muzzle and gently pulled. She took a step. I Traced the glass behind her eye, down her neck, and back to her shoulder.

I now had to find a way to guide her all the way off the beach without getting stepped on, or putting away the glass.

“Jay?”

Chapter 2

A Pale Horse

The mare’s ear flicked. Though the voice was barely over a whisper, it took several moments of my heart ricocheting around my chest for me to breathe normally again. I slowly turned to the source of the voice.

I squinted into the darkness. “Isak? God you scared me to death.” I whispered back. Isak and I had gone to the same school every other kid in Thisby went to, so I knew him by his soft blonde curls and his quiet nature only.

“Well, you obviously have a death wish. What are you doing?” His voice was a strained whisper, so it felt like shouting to me but didn’t concern the horse too much.

I turned back to face the horse.

“I need help. I need you to take the lead and help me get her home.” Behind me I heard his soft, slow intake of breath. I could feel his subdued fear along my spine.

Regardless, Isak came to my side and took the rope at its very end. As soon as he touched it the mare bobbed her head up. Isak froze and slid the seaglass forward again, until I could feel her pulse below it. Her head dipped low again. I nodded to Isak and he slowly led the mare off the sand and onto the grass.

The mile or so to the stable felt like eternity- like the feeling of knowing that the earth will always spin It felt like I knew that everything was always going to be: me, weighed down with a wool coat full of luck, Isak, turning to look back every dozen steps, and this mare, somehow soothed by a cast off piece of glass, still unfamiliar in this dark.

My mother’s sister lived next door to us, and had once had horses. I had secretly worked on it when my hands grew tired of twisting rope.

It could hold ordinary horses well enough, but a capall uisce was another matter. I had re enforced each of the stone walls three times over with any scrap wood I could get my hands on, then once more with runes scratched into the wood. I had hung around the Malvern’s yard and watched and listened for what kept the horses.

I wedged sticks of mountain ash in the cracks and lined up snail shells against the walls. Strings of red ribbons and keys and hag stones draped across the ceiling. Bells hung from the doors and bundles of dried herbs and flowers were pinned to the walls.

Once the mare was led into the stall, Isak hung back, studying the chaos of the stable. I tied off the lead and reluctantly set the seaglass aside. The mare shook her head and pawed the ground.

With cold and shaking hands I began to try to simultaneously put on a regular bridal and remove the abusive rope.  I softly hummed to distract myself from the knowledge that it wasn’t the cold making my hands shake.

When the last loop of my rope was unwound from her muzzle, and instead tied from her bridal to the wall, I finally backed out of the stall, pausing for a moment to slide a bucket of pig entrails in before sliding the heavy door shut. My uncle’s in laws had butchered the pig and I had taken from the gut pile they had left for the ravens. It had been a distasteful process.

Only then did I pull a supposedly waterproof flashlight from yet another pocket and cupped it in my hand as I turned it on and shone it in the stall. It was the first time I had truly gotten a good look at her. It was no wonder I had mistaken her for a cresting wave.

She was lighter than many horses that washed up onto Thisby’s shores. Gray, and dappled like the reflections of light on the seafloor. She pulled and tested the rope tethering her a few times, then turned her attention to the contents of the bucket.

I had almost forgotten that Isak was standing silently in the doorway of the stable. I slid the flashlight back into my pocket and pressed the backs of my hands to my eyes.

“Thank you Isak.” I said as he followed me out of the stable. “Thank you.” I sighed as I leaned back against the wall and slid down until I sat with my knees against my chest, shrunken into the coat. Isak sat beside me.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked.

“I need a horse to race on.” I answered wearily.

“Okay,” he said patiently. “But why are you racing? And why not just buy one from Malvern? And why try to catch a capall uisce by yourself? Are you crazy?”

Isak waited for my answers. I sorted through the questions in my mind. Beth would have gone down to that beach with me, and she wouldn’t have left my side. I’m definitely going to have to face her anger tomorrow for not asking for her help. But it’s my turn. I needed to do it alone, and I couldn’t ask Beth to face one of those horses again.

I had barely managed to scrape enough money together for the entry fee. There was no way I could ever earn enough to buy a capall uisce, especially not one of Malverns.

I turned all the answers over in my head while Isak studied me, waiting for me to respond. But when I opened my mouth, a question of my own came out.

“Why were you on the beach tonight?”

This startled him into turning away. “I was going for a walk.”

I sat silently for a moment, perplexedly considering this. I could feel Isak glance over at me, looking for my reaction.

I gave a sort of half humorless laugh, half scoff and said, “Anyone walking along the beach, in the middle of the night, in November is begging for death.”

Isak exhaled in a pseudo laugh and said nothing to defend himself from what I said.

When he finally spoke he said, “What about you? Chasing after water horses with nothing but a chunk of glass to protect you?”

“It actually makes sense. If the sea can take something sharp and dangerous and soften it into something smooth and safe, why wouldn’t smooth and calm the horse?”

“But it’s just a piece of glass.”

“Well, yes. But in there is just ribbons and bells and stones with holes in them.

“Exactly! What good is any of that going to do? How can you believe that any of that could protect you from a flesh-and-blood capall uisce?”

“Her name is Kaf. And how can you not believe after living on this island your whole life?”

We spend another few moments in silence, thinking. I twist my fingers in the long grass by my sodden boots.

“I don’t believe in anything.” Isak breathed.

This brought my thoughts back to him not defending himself when I halfheartedly accused him of wanting to die. I couldn’t think of anything to say for the longest time. Eventually we both stood up, stretching stiff joints, unanimously deciding to call it a night.

Just as Isak was turning away, without thinking I grabbed his arm.

“I’ll believe for the both of us.” I said, slipping a hag stone into his hand. His hair fell forward into his eyes as he ducked his head. Despite the darkness, I could have sworn I saw him smile.

I hung my coat just inside the door of the stable to keep watch while I slept, then went inside.

The bright light and smooth porcelain of the small bathroom felt like a different life from the one just across the yard. I stared into the mirror, taking in my features as I would a strangers. My lips were faintly blue.

I scrubbed my hand across them trying to force the pink back into them. Giving up, I peeled the wet clothes from my skin and pulled on pajama pants and an oversized sweater before crawling under the covers.

[dontlookatmeitwashim]

Even the Gods Feared Her: Part one?

Inspired by the beautiful @illustraice and her Sun/Moon Spirit Au! I loved it so much that I had to write about it!! Now keep in mind that things will be different from her au sooo... don’t hate me.

They were old. Older than the gods that the humans had known… older than the earth itself. They had watched as the world was created and they watched as every single human soul was born and died. They loved humans, they truly did… Loved them enough to give them the bright sun during the day and the cool moon in the night, enough to protect them from the dangers of wondering spirits and monsters.

The sun and the moon. Yin and Yang. Life and Death. King and Queen. Adrien and Marinette.

Of course, they had a thousand names, they kept changing through the centuries; but they had always preferred Adrien and Marinette. Those were the names they had chosen themselves and the names only they called each other. They were each other’s closest friends, next to their faithful advisors; Tikki and Plagg, the only two who can travel between the two realms.

While the moon and sun spirits had to wait for the rare eclipse to see one another and every eclipse Adrien would make an offer of marriage to Marinette, and every offer Marinette turned him down.

Not that she didn’t love him because she did, but what was a marriage when you can only meet once every few months for only a few moments. No, she did not want that. Besides, Adrien will find someone else to love easily and soon forget about her.

“Your sighing,” Tikki giggled, twirling her two daggers in her hands.

Marinette sighed once more, staring at the golden flowers that Adrien had left for her once again. The first time she saw the flowers, she had Tikki tell the sun spirit to stop sending them, but he didn’t listen. For as long as she could remember, Adrien left her flowers and for as long as she can remember; Marinette would hold that golden flower up to the sky and watch it wither away into nothingness. “I a merely tired, Tikki, that’s all.”

The redhead rolled her eyes, sheathing the daggers and stood next to her mistress. “Yes, or it could be because of a certain Sun King… please, tell me what is on your mind.”

“Something that goddess told me,” The Queen blow away the flower, watching it turn into dust.

“Which one?”

Marinette chuckled, picking up her scythe from the dark ground and turned to her advisor. “The fledgling one; Aphrodite.” They walked together, eyes and ears open for any suspicious sounds. “She has had her eye on Adrien ever since she emerged from that sea foam and she claims that she is going to make him hers by the end of the nest moon cycle.”

The advisor rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the first time that a newly born goddess would chase after Adrien, but all of them had failed. The sun spirit’s love for Marinette was too strong, but most of them time the blue woman would remind them of how superior they were to them. “Are you going to pay her a visit, my Queen?”

“No.” She shook her head, tapping her scythe to the ground; revealing the monsters that had tried to slip past her and into the human world. With a single swing of her weapon, they had all perished. “Besides the sun will be up momentarily and we have a visitor waiting for us at the palace.”

“What visitor?”  Tikki arched an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest in a judgmental manner. “I don’t remember inviting anyone?”

Marinette smirked, her body slowly materializing into shadows as she watched the sun slowly rise. She did this every night… watching until the very last minute, until she had to leave. “I sent for him myself.”

And then she was gone, returned to her palace with Tikki beside her; they no longer held their weapons. The moon spirit made her way to the tea room, not wanting to keep her company waiting. The whole castle was designed with several shades of blue, purple and black, but the most beautiful thing about the castle was the ever-changing scenery. Not one view was the same, they had always changed from one galaxy to the next.

Entering the tea room, there were two sofas and a table; pretty and simple. And there on one sofa was a man wearing a loincloth and a jackal head. He had dark skin, beautiful and only a few shades lighter than her night sky. When he heard Marinette enter, he had taken off the jackal head; exposing his shot black hair and captivating black eyes.

The Egyptian god of Death, Anubis.

“Iah, it is always a pleasure to see your beautiful face.” He bowed with a grin, his bare chest not going unnoticed by the two women. Iah the name of the moon god in Egypt before he became Thoth, now it was the name that the Egyptian gods used for her.

Marinette returned his smile, taking his hands in hers; she led him back to the sofa. “And I always love hearing you flatter me,” Tikki had taken this moment to leave, not wanting to get in the way of her mistress’ date and to go warn Adrien of this new development. While the advisor had left, Marinette had snapped her fingers; two teacups and a pot of tea appearing on the table. “How are things going in the underworld?”

“People are just dying to get in,” Anubis laughed, picking up the cup and sipping the warm tea. He took a moment to studied the moon spirit’s beauty. Her long black hair, her riveting dark blue skin, the white freckles that resembled stars and the galaxies that were her crown. But most of all? Her blue eyes. They looked like the morning sky after a storm had past, clear and perfect. “I heard that the monsters are becoming more restless, could be signs of trouble.”

“During the day, yes, but I rarely see any during the night.” She sighed and took a sip of her tea, tucking a piece of loose hair behind her ear before leaning back into the sofa. “I wish not to speak of politics, can we talk about more happier things?”

It wasn’t because of politics, she just didn’t wish to talk about the man she was trying hard to forget…

The man chuckled raised an eyebrow, but nodded; leaning back as well. “Very well… I heard that that Greek goddess, Hera, is on another rampage because Zeus cheated on her.”

“Ugh, children and their tantrums!” Marinette laughed, moving in closer to the younger god. “It seems that every week those two are threatening to kill someone.”

8888

Adrien and Plagg were being bombarded with monster after monster, no rest from the fight. His usual crisp white outfit covered in blood, the flowers that were around his head had become loose and started to fall. He had taken off his jewelry as the fighting became more intense; rings, bracelets and arm bands. But had left his earrings in, they were too important to the sun king. They were gold with a light blue feather; the first gift Marinette had given him.

He and Plagg were so distracted by the monsters, that they didn’t even notice that Tikki had shown up; killing multiple monsters at once. It was only when the last monster fell and Adrien could take a break did they see her.

“Tikki? What are you doing here?” The sun king smiled, glad to have the help of such a skilled warrior. But, not as glad as his advisor, Plagg. Almost immediately, Plagg had wrapped her in a hug, kissing her cheek as he did.

Tikki didn’t smile, which was rare for the woman; she was always smiling. She looked as though she came to tell her that a loved one had died and it made the sun king nervous. “Sir, I have horrible news.”

“What’s wrong?” Plagg scrunched his eyebrow in confusion, moving to stand next to her; his hand firmly placed on the small of her back.

“It’s Marinette, sir.” Her eyes never left Adrien’s, making him even more nervous. Her blue eyes didn’t have the warmth they usually did. “She is with Anubis, she is… She is looking to forget you, Adrien.”

Everything had stopped. Adrien’s usual golden glow dimmed and the sky began to cloud. His heart felt like it was ripped out and his lungs ached to catch his breath, he couldn’t believe her words. He had known that Marinette was in love with him for centuries due to Tikki and because of Tikki… he was utterly and completely heartbroken. “She is trying to forget me? But she can’t! We are destined for one another! She and I we are… we were the beginning and ending of life. We will always be intertwined with each other from now to forever and she is trying to forget me?”

As the tears started to form in his eyes, the sky began to rain. This made the advisors nervous because all the monsters knew that it only rained when Adrien was at a weakened state. They needed him to calm down and calm down fast because at the same moment, hundreds of monsters were already making their way to the sun king. Tikki and Plagg drew their weapons, standing on either side of the master; preparing for the oncoming monsters.

“Adrien, I need you to get your shit together, right now!” Plagg yelled, killing the first monster that had shown up.

Tikki scolded her boyfriend before talking to Adrien, doing a flip over one monster; landing on another’s shoulders and slit it’s throat. “Your majesty, listen to me! You can still win her back, Marinette is still in love with you and I believe that she always will be! Please, dry your tears!”

But Adrien couldn’t hear them, he was lost within his own despair; unable to find the way out. His glow became more and more dim, looking more gray by the second and the sky become black with a horrific storm.

Tikki tried to say more to the sun spirit, but she was becoming overwhelmed with the monsters, barely able to keep up with how many were trailing in. This was more than a little restless, like Adrien’s report said, this was a bizarre number of monsters… no, this seemed more than a few monsters trying to wonder into the human world; this was a planned attack.

They kept coming and Tikki was started to tire… thankfully, she had a trick up her sleeve. Dodging a few attacks, the advisor jumped high into the air; clapping her hands together and revealing a scythe. It was much like her master’s, but hers was a deep red rather than black. Plagg saw the dreadful weapon and quickly killed his monster, darting to Adrien and pushing him to the ground.

Raising the scythe over her head, the advisor let out a yell and swung it; her body turning with the swing. She landed on her feet, the scythe disappearing in her hands as she watched all the monster’s heads fell from their bodies. Then collapsed to her hands and knees… summoning the scythe had taken all her energy, that’s why she usually relied on her daggers.

“Is he okay?” Tikki gasped, looking over her shoulder.

Plagg turned to the blonde that was under him, his adrenaline still high. The blonde was alive, but he was still lost within his own world. He turned back to his girlfriend and nodded, helping Adrien to sit up before going to Tikki. “He will be fine, I’m more worried about you… that last move was risky.”

“Yeah, well, it was either that or die.” She laughed, leaning against Plagg’s chest and tried to catch her breathe.

But their peace was short lived.

“Who knew that the great sun spirit was so easily taken down!” A deep voice laughed, causing both advisor’s hearts to immediately drop. They watched as the man, dressed a deep purple suit and mask swagger over to Adrien. He was the one man in all the universe was hell bent to take down the two spirits… Hawkmoth. “If I knew it took a broken heart? I would have killed that pesky moon queen sooner!”

Growling, Plagg moved to attack but was stopped with a butterfly shaped knife to the chest; Tikki screamed and fell with them. Both advisors where no immobile, giving Hawkmoth free passage to the sun king.

He grabbed him by the hair and forced Adrien to meet his eyes, Hawkmoth smirking as he did. He pulled out a knife and held it to his throat, loving that his vacant eyes become alive once he felt the cool blade. The blonde glared. “What do you think you’re doing, Hawkmoth?”

“Killing you.” And he did, cutting the sun spirit’s head clean off.

Tears spilled down Tikki’s face. She needed to get Plagg out of here, before Hawkmoth killed them both. Biting a bead on the bracelet on her wrist that would teleport them to her mistress. Marinette had made it in case of emergencies, where Tikki had expended all her power and was unable to get home with her own magic. Biting the bead in half, the couple was in the tea room.

Tikki so exhausted to the point of passing out and Plagg bleeding to death.

[samuelmmarcus]

Traditional Home with Classic Design Ideas

  Hello, my friends. How are you doing? I honestly can’t believe Christmas is a week away from today! Oh, wow… I can feel butterflies when I think about it and yes, I am allowing myself to be like a child at this special moment of the year. I think that only children can feel the magic of Christmas and I am hoping to have some of that… I hope you allow yourself to have a truly peaceful and happy time with your loved ones, from start to finish.

I could talk about Christmas for a long time, but that might tire you and I am guessing you’re here to see some inspiring interiors, right? If not, leave a comment about your favorite Christmas traditions at the end of the post. I will love to know them! Meanwhile, I am really excited to share this gorgeous historic home renovation by Edward Deegan Architects and Interiors (previously featured here, here , here & here – find a comfy spot and make sure to see these house tours!).

If you think that classic and traditional interior design are boring, this home will change your mind! Sure, you will find some extraordinary architectural details that you’re only able to find in historic homes, but the design here really brings this entire home to the next level. Forget everything you have seen when it comes to renovations. This team knows how to keep things fresh and current without compromising on quality.

  Traditional Home with Classic Design Ideas

Designing a spacious and practical kitchen in a historic home is always more complicated than anyone can anticipate, but the designers did an excellent job with this space. The entire room was completely reconfigurated and it now hosts a large kitchen with two islands, a Breakfast Nook and a large Family Room.

Grilles

This kitchen island features Butcher countertop and a panel-ready beverage center. Custom cabinet doors with metal diamond-shaped grilles and wire mesh add a timeless appeal to the island.

Kitchen Island Paint Color

The designer added the diamond detail on the island to match the windows in this historic home renovation. Kitchen island paint color is Farrow and Ball Hague Blue No. 30. This is a great, vivid, navy blue!

Lighting: Visual Comfort – Other Beautiful Lighting: here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Countertop & Hardware

Counters are Leathered Super White Quartzite. What a gorgeous stone!

Hardware: Rejuvenation Pulls & Knobs.

Faucet: Kohler Artifacts Polished Nickel.

Sink: Julien Urban Edge 30” – similar here & here.

Kitchen Cabinetry

The kitchen cabinets are custom-made and the color is Benjamin Moore Simply White – often chosen by interior designers, builder and cabinet makers.

Range: Wolf – Other more affordable option: here.

Backsplash

Backsplash features a herringbone insert over the range. This is a simple and economical, not to mention, not too busy, way to add interest to your kitchen.

Tile is from Etched In Stone – Others: here (Thassos Marble), here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Runner

A kitchen runner can add so much character and make your kitchen feel warmer and add more personality. I never spend too much money on my runners. This way, I can replace them from time-to-time without breaking the bank or feeling guilty.

Runner: here – Other Beautiful & Affordable Runners: here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Pantry

A pocket door conceals a gorgeous pantry with floor-to-ceiling subway tile and two-toned cabinets. The blue cabinets on the right are Farrow and Ball Hague Blue and the white cabinets on the left are Simply White by Benjamin Moore.

Lighting: Visual Comfort.

Breakfast Nook

The breakfast nook features a custom L-shaped banquette. These windows inspired the diamond inset detail on the kitchen island. Aren’t they beautiful?!

Chandelier: Visual Comfort E.F. Chapman Flemish 4 Light Linear Pendant – Discontinued – Other Linear Chandeliers: here, here, here & here.

Dining Table & Chairs

Dining Table: here.

Dining Chairs: Williams Sonoma Home.

Hardware: Rejuvenation.

Flooring

Flooring: 2.25” Red Oak Hardwood Flooring with a custom stain – similar here.

Wall Paint Color

The kitchen opens to a Family Room with coffered ceiling. Wall paint color is Benjamin Moore OC-23 Classic Gray.

Counterstools: William Sonoma Home – Other Popular Options: here, here, here, here, here & here.

Island Lamps: Visual Comfort Carthage Mini Lamp.

Family Room Cabinet

Family Room Cabinets: Custom-designed, Simply White OC-117 by Benjamin Moore with custom grilles. That adorable puppy is just to make us love this home even more!

Lighting: Visual Comfort David 18″ Art Light – similar here.

Family Room

This Family Room is perfect for relaxing and keep an eye on the kids while cooking.

Leather Ottoman: CR Laine, custom (Available through the designer) – Other Beautiful Option: here.

Tray: Palecek – similar here.

Fireplace

Fireplace Surround Stone: Marble.

Ceiling Lighting: Hudson Valley 6-Light Chandelier.

Sofa Sectional

Sectional: CR Laine, custom (Available through the designer) – similar here – Others: here, here, here, here, here & here.

Hallway

This hallway connects the kitchen to the formal dining room. This wall was designed to look like a wall with shiplap paneling, but it actually conceals a really fun room!

Hide-and-Seek

Can you guess what’s behind that door… too easy, right? Ah… you can just read it below… tsk tsk

Lighting: Visual Comfort.

Powder Room

How fun is this powder bath?! Wallcovering is Thibaut Imperial Dragon (Available through the designer). Paint color is Benjamin Moore Chantilly Lace on trim and wainscoting and Benjamin Moore Hale Navy on ceiling.

Washstand: Megmade Finish in High Gloss Piano finish in Benjamin Moore Hale Navy.

Chandelier: Visual Comfort Gramercy Mini Chandelier.

Mirror: Ballard Designs – similar here.

Flooring: 2.25” Red Oak.

Faucet

Faucet: Studio Line at Waterworks.

Countertop: Quartzite.

Sink: Duravit.

Formal Dining Room

The formal dining room features the original buffet cabinet and a neutral wallpaper. Cabinet, ceiling and trim paint color is Benjamin Moore Simply White in High Gloss.

Chandelier: Visual Comfort Double Twist Large Chandelier – Other Classic Chandeliers: here, here, here & here.

Wallpaper: Schumacher Chenonceau, Bisque.

Living Room

Featuring the original fireplace, this living room feels cozy and inviting.

 Sofas: Custom, available through the designer – Other Blue Velvet Sofas: here, here, here, here & here.

Coffee Table: Pottery Barn.

Etegers: Vintage, Accessories by the designers.

Hide rug was clients – similar here.

Paint Color

Wall color is Benjamin Moore AC-18 Smokey Mountain.

Master Bathroom

The master bathroom feels luxurious without compromising on the authenticity of this historic home.

Sconce: Visual Comfort Union Double Arm Sconce & Single Sconce.

Ceiling Light: Visual Comfort Paris Flea Market Small Flush Mount.

Hardware: Pulls & Knobs.

Faucet: Rohl Arcana C-Spout.

Countertop: Marble-looking Quartz.

Walls:  Marble Tile – similar here.

Cabinet Paint Color

Cabinets: Custom Designed, Farrow and Ball Light Blue No. 22.

Tile

Floor Tile: Marble from Etched in stone, Glenview, IL  – similar here (lighter in color).

Tub: York Victoria and Albert.

Tub Filler: Rohl.

Shades

The designer hid the roller shades in the window trim. They did this treatment for all windows in the new addition of the house.

Side Door

A red side door opens to a mudroom with direct view to the kitchen.

Mudroom

This mudroom might be narrow, but it certainly mighty! The navy blue cabinets were perfectly designed for this space and the elongated hex tiles along with the barn pendants add plenty of character to the space! Cabinet paint color is Farrow and Ball Hague Blue.

Wall Color: Benjamin Moore Classic Gray.

Trim & Wainscoting: Simply White by Benjamin Moore.

Floor Tile: Concrete Elongated Hex Tile – similar here & here – Other Low-maintenance Tiles: here, here, here & here (great for herringbone pattern).

Lighting: Union Pendant Barn Light – similar here – Other Beautiful Pendant: here.

Hardware: Rejuvenation Pulls & Knobs.

  Architect: Edward Deegan Architects and Interiors (Instagram – Facebook)

Photography: @karenloffing.

  Bring the Holidays Home!

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“Dear God,

If I am wrong, right me. If I am lost, guide me. If I start to give-up, keep me going.

Lead me in Light and Love”.

Have a wonderful day, my friends and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

with Love,

Luciane from HomeBunch.com

from Home https://www.homebunch.com/traditional-home-with-classic-design-ideas/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[taniaknorr45-blog]

Dog Pee Blemishes As Well As Stench

The absolute most typical ailment in felines is runny eyes. I have a tendency to just like down-to-earth colours instead of pastels, myself, yet I utilize lighter tones of all of them in smaller areas. Considering that the majority of devices are actually either dark or white, these 2 "shades" look really crisp in any kitchen area. If your pee is actually transparently white, that means you have actually been drinking too much water - likely much more than the highly recommended 8-glasses a day. Occasionally it gets rid of just a percent of the dye therefore your hair looks sloppy as opposed to gray. You may desire to incorporate a small amount even more of a taupe color along with a small gold undertone so that this does not look like too much of a comparison. There's no other way of really scrutinizing your work than great, strong, natural lighting-many times I've looked at my photos along with the most ideal in the house lighting on call merely to appear once more the next morning as well as observe defects I had not chosen previously. From shampooing excessive opportunities a week to going years without a good haircut, celebrity hair stylists Ted Gibson as well as Kim Kimble break down the 13 very most popular hair blunders our team need to have to cease producing. Two choices are actually bubbly off-white, a light tan akin to the different colors of watered-down ginger root dark beer, and sparkling wine with pale pink traces. Yet as regularly its own a learning adventure, http://Shapebodybeauty.info/ I would either chose white colored upcoming opportunity, or even a lighter grey, or even possibly less grey and black, have them as tone colours? A homemade dairy and almond insert face mask certainly not just clears away scars however additionally washes the pores and softens the skin.

You might go a step even further as well as go total monochrome yet I choose it with color left. Dermatitis is primarily caused by regular wet working, therefore hairdressers are actually very most at risk of establishing it, specifically if they spend extended amount of times in contact with water throughout the day. The particular phrase "the finger of The lord" is actually used 4 attend Bible three in the Old Testimony and one in the New, which form a type of chiasm also. Le moderne shock therapy fatigué Modern architecture is tired. Therefore, cream color are actually harder to accent with accent shades than are their white sisters. I don't translate Whites' suffering with the suffering of folks of different colors I don't feel Whites' suffering gets us compassion or absolves our company of accountability for the harm our team've together performed - and are still carrying out - to folks of color. Making it through loved one of Philomena Goins (the woman along with Sarah Service provider who had actually viewed John Bradley leave behind Frances Taylor's home, headed for Rosewood) handled to accentuate the story after an investigative reporter poked around in the early 1980s and carried the catastrophe out right into the light of day for the first time in many years. These days The lord will mention, ... transforms a guy into the physically challenged and also remarkable. I felt sorry for the cleaners to cleanse the wreck and to today I am actually a mama of 2 and a grandmother of 2 as well as well as our team sill rest together and also perform arts, paint as every one in the family enjoys it. With dark string or even you may create it the exact same colour as the color of the instance; my leash scenario was actually red, therefore, I opted for red string and started sewing through hand it took me concerning half an hour to do a really good task with a considerable amount of stitches, enough to keep the body weight of the canine. Architectural cement architectural ancestry, troubles and also strate- gies for records and also preservation: The case history of Turin. Besides cleaning up intermittent month approximately, the only servicing they'll require will definitely be actually resetting a couple of each opportunity you vacuum your gravel, which isn't actually a huge issue.

[plymouthrockquotes]

D.D. Bishop, Development of the Plymouth Rock: or, The Plymouth Rock as a Bird and as a Breed, 1880

Page 3: The putting of the work into this present shape was suggested to my own mind by finding the first thing that I ever wrote upon the “law” of the Dominique color quoted at large in a pamphlet upon Plymouth Rocks, which I purchased at the book counter at one of our shows. If it was good enough for someone else to sell to me as a piece of sense upon that subject, there was no reason why I should be senstivie about expressing my convictions upon other points in the development of the principles. ‘Hinc illoe.’ I was contending at that time (‘Poultry World,’ March, 1876) that the black pullets were not sports, but results that would follow unskillful mating everywhere. In the Dominique color the females went dark, and that it was not confined to the Plymouth Rock. Various of my distinguished contemporaries have not always relished the positiveness of my statements, and claim to have had some difficulty in accepting the principles I have laid down. Page 5: That the bird known by the name of Plymouth Rock, should have made its appearance about that time, 1866 to 1870, was inevitable. The conditions were favorable. It was at the time of reaction from the furor for simply big birds, when farmer folk were discussing among themselves the failure of the mammoth Asiatics to fill the bill for both eggs and marketing. They consumed both too much time and feed in their growth. They failed as foragers for want of activity. They were there verse of precocious in their development. The old fashioned dung-hill was too small. There was equal dissatisfaction with both. The first result was the throwing of whatever Asiatic came to hand, Shanghais, Brahmas, Cochins — what not — at random into the barn yard flocks, to mix indiscriminately with a lot of birds that had suffered that kind of breeding, if that could be called breeding, for a generation or more. It was not exactly “diamond cut diamond,” but more like school boys cutting each others’ jack knife blades; it was “cross” cut “cross” which made has of things generally. The next step in the process was, that the more thoughtful or fanciful began to pick out the colors that suited their individual notions. Various farmers had local reputations for the excellence of their white hens, or red hens, or whatever color they might have chosen. Page 6: Perhaps the most widely diffused of what might have been called a native stock was even then known as “old fashioned,” “hawk colored” fowls. Page 9: Where the particular birds originated that first found their way to the show room, who exhibited, and who named them, are unimportant questions further than as items of interest to fanciers. Rev. H.S. Ramsdell (deceased) of West Thompson, Conn., a correspondent of mine, traced these fowls to the yard of Joseph Spaulding (deceased) of Putnam, Wyndham County, Conn. C.C. Corbett, Esq., of New London, Conn., personally known to me, was sufficiently interested in the subject at that time, 1873, to give it his individual attention. He corroborated Mr. Ramsdell’s statements, and makes affidavit to that effect. D.A. Uphill was the first exhibitor, Worcester, March 1869. It is claimed that they were named, if not by Mr. Ramsdell, by someone who was shrewd enough to appropriate the name which Dr. Bennett had done so much to popularize. It is certain that they were already known by that name in other parts of the State. As to another matter of fact: — in the Spring of 1866 when I made my first attempt at housekeeping in my first parish, Branford, New Haven County, Conn., I carried two kinds of fowls. One kind was the so called Bolton Grays. To these my father, Mark Bishop, Esq., of Cheshire, New Haven Co., Conn., added a lot of Plymouth Rock birds. Page 10: They were presented to me by that name, and they were Plymouth rocks, large, strong birds, clean legged, and with good and true color, although they were not so distinctly marked. The birds were so commonly kept and known in that neighborhood, that it cannot now be remembered where they came from. It is my belief that they were developed there, on the farm, as in other places. One of the most distinct recollections of my boyhood is of the Dominiques, so that in the interval of my absence from him, in studies, there was ample time, and, with the certainty of Asiatic infusion, the tools to work with were undoubtedly there, with all needful elements and components. That much “I know about Plymouth Rocks,” and that is how I came to know it. They were the first fowls I ever undertook to manage for myself, and the time goes back to that date. In point of fact there are three Black Java hens, which have figured in Plymouth Rock history. One of these is as imaginary as the other two were real. The first was introduced by Mrs. Flora Spaulding, to explain what was a mystery to her, namely, that some of the Plymouth Rock pullets came black. Page 12: Marcus F. Town of Thompson, Ct., with a ten years’ knowledge of whatever points the so called original Plymouth Rocks bore with them, writing in 1876, declares: “The chickens of my pair” (purchased of Spaulding) “were many of them, heavily feathered on legs. Next year with a better mating for color, there were some feather-legged.” W.H. Todd of Ohio, sets forth the statement in one of his publications that, at that time, the best would throw some feather-legged chicks. Indeed, so prevalent was this mark of an Asiatic infusion, which could not have been from the Java, that we find Mr. C.C. Corbett, who got out the first print of the Plymouth Rock (Fig. 8) that was ever made, and who went all through the question as to their origination, writing to the ‘Poultry World,’ in April, 1873, to ask: “Have you any knowledge of a stock of Plymouth Rock fowls that do not occasionally throw feather-legged chicks?” It is surprising that Mr. Corbett, getting his birds from the Spaulding stock, through Mr. Ramsdell, should have struck, so early as this, the type of bird in form and substance that was to be finally adopted so generally as to make future attempts at departure from it impossible. The difference between this and those later in the book (beyond No. 12), are chiefly those of elaboration and finish. Page 14: So that the whole basis in authentic fact for the volumes of stupid talking and writing about Javas, is narrowed down to those birds actually bred (a very small number compared with those bred entirely outside of their yards) by D.A. Uphill and (since ’74) by I.K. Felch. In both cases the Plymouth Rocks existed before they, respectively, took hold of their breeding, and presented the same peculiarities of color inherited from the Dominique, (which I have bred almost as long as I have the Plymouth Rock) and shared by the Dominique Leghorn under my own observation. The males go light the females dark. “To Mark Pitman more than any other one man is due the credit of conducting the original breeding” by which the type of the bird was fixed. Upon being satisfied of which, I have taken pains to get the history from his own lips and I have his authority, Fe.b 13, 1880, to sustain the assertion that I made some years ago, that the Plymouth Rocks always did and always will throw their colors by the same rule, the same as the Dominiques, (whose color they inherit) did and always will do the same thing. Page 15: The most important and striking characteristic that presents itself to a student of Plymouth Rocks is the peculiar difference in the color effect in the two sexes. First, last and always the males come lighter than the females. It is a thing we must never forget in dealing with this breed. It will beat us if we do but we shall never beat that. It is in the birds, it is the law of this color that the males will not only be several shades lighter in color, but the width of the bars will be about one-third of the light spaces between them. It is a very light pullet that has the space between the bars equal in width to the bars themselves, and from that the spaces grow less all the way down to no space at all, or solid color. The Dominique presents the same characteristics — in fact, the Plymouth Rock inherits this peculiarity, with its color, from the Dominique, and weaver you find the Dominique color, in Leghorns or anywhere else, you find the same law to govern. The observation of this law will be taken up in the chapter on Breeding, so that I shall not follow it further at this time, but just here I will way, that the fact must be accepted as a law and not regarded as a mere eccentricity. The color difference between the male and female is really much less in the Dominique color than in many others. As soon as you get outside of the solid colors — as white or black — the utmost diversity is manifested. The tyro refuses to credit the statement that the Partridge Cochin cock and hen are of the same breed. The Dark Brahma shows as wide a difference between the sexes, and what could be more unlike than the cocks and hens of the various Games and Pheasants, al the way to the song birds as gaily dight as the butterflies themselves. The law of variation between male and female is Nature’s law, and not an eccentricity confined to this particular breed of fowls. Page 16: These birds must always pass the chopping block on the road to the show pen, and those that stop at the block must pay you with their flesh for your trouble and outlay. Profit in poultry must come out of close calculation — the application of common sense to every item and department. The Standard is good sense, as well as strict rule. The substance of the bird in the points that are most nearly related, “size and weight” with “breast and body,” counts 24. That this shall be harmoniously distributed and present the proper form for a Plymouth Rock, instead of a squab or penguin, “symmetry” comes in for another 12 points. Other things may be mere appendages, accidents even, and it is not too much to say that more than half the points in the scale are given to practical things — the virtues of usefulness. Contrast this with the Standard for Polish, where “crest” is 25, “comb,” 10; where “ear lobe and wattles” count as much as “size and weight”; the “tail” as much as “breast and body.” Failure to follow this plan brings failure to the breeder and is the reason why so many yards show only undersized birds, and so many breeders pipe small, that they are not in favor of bringing up the Plymouth Rocks to “crowd the larger breeds.” Page 24: In contemplating the Plymouth Rock actually in the breeding yard, we are met by several very practical questions. It is not another science, but the same with a different application. The science is modified here by circumstances, surroundings and conditions. The leading question is: — with what chances in his favor, or against what, do you expect the Plymouth rock to do his best? It is answered by a consideration of the nature and disposition of the bird himself, and also by your own ultimate objects in his cultivation. For as those objects are clearly defined before your own mind, and the more intelligently you shape to those ends the influences within your power, so much more perfectly will the bird respond. For as you can develop all that is good in him by generosity, so, by meanness, you can kill out even what is best in him. And the ignorance which allows you to pursue a mistaken policy is his own and your worst enemy. So we will lay out our work something like this: — First — Habit. Second — Food. Third — Handling. Page 25: The Cochins — true Celestials — are humped up in fluffy contentment alongside the fence. It is wonderful how much comfort they can get out of the side of the house! The American by distinction, in fact, the Connecticut Yankee (I refer to the Plymouth Rock gentleman) with his business suit on, is just out in the fair open, his observing eye can see what is going on, and where his thirty family can catch every turn of his knowing head. He talks to them as I have heard farmers talk to their boys, — “Come, now! Don’t let the grass grow under your feet.” And they don’t. They are as industrious as that farmer’s boy in digging out a rabbit. They are scratching, not furiously, but earnestly, picking, stretching, pluming themselves, their minds me up to shell out such a dividend upon every tit-bit they find in that hay seed as shall round up the egg-basket pretty well before supper time. The expression that the domestic fowl is “the true bird of freedom” cannot be insisted upon too urgently. By just so much as you do violence to Nature, you are placing the birds at a disadvantage, and inviting the failure of your plans and labors. The Leghorn will exist in a small pen, and keep itself in exercise by its perpetual chase in search of an impossible knot-hole — in which it still believes. The Cochin might not delight in the exercise if it had full liberty, but the Plymouth Rock would. If enclosed at all, the Plymouth Rock should be subjected to a barely nominal confinement. My own yards are almost as many rods as most are feet. It is notorious that the ordinary enclosures — so-called “runs” — would not allow the bird to get much delight from his promenade unless he could amuse himself by a “run” against the fence. The poor Plymouth Rock has to “exercise” his imagination a good deal to indulge his naturally active disposition. HIs is expected to combine all the good qualities of both the Dominique and Asiatic; and in the matter of personal habit should be humored. If he does not always get out when he can, he should not on that account be cooped up in a little pen. It is too much like imposing upon a fellow because he is good-natured. If the Asiatic is the most quiet fowl that we have, the Dominique is the very sharpest forager that ever I saw. If you let out the Cochin he will go back into his house after a short breathing spell; he does not like “wind and weather.” The Plymouth Rock will go a hunting as soon as let out, and he will stay out, too, all day. Page 28: Breeding. And to emphasize by every means the answer to another “why,” I say, in view of your ultimate object in breeding the Plymouth Rock, the nature of these exciting compounds is bad. You must pay for them out of the vital resources of your pets, just as certainly as getting drunk today is paid for with tomorrow’s headache. They dry up the blood of the bird. Ask any doctor as to the excessive use of pepper and spices upon your own blood, and then give them up. A cutting off of fruits and greens that will induce the scurvy as a human disease is equally bad for the fowl. You are not simply trying to get eggs from the Plymouth Rock, but you want to hatch strong and vigorous chicks for the table, and to do this you must retain such full, exuberant health in the parent stock as will ensure rapid growth in the young, and tend to improvement from year to year, which you will never get, but deterioration from chicks hatched out of eggs from fevered, shrinking stock, whose blood and secretions you are drying up with so-called medicinal foods. Page 29: Handling. I hope to bring this subject up into the prominence it deserves. There are so many who fail just here. Many Plymouth Rock breeders have good stock and good theories of breeding, and have well-mated fowls, who gain only disappointment for want of a practical knowledge of those things that certainly fall within the limits of wisdom, skill and experience in the regulation of various matters inside the yard. Page 30: A disorder can be easily rectified if discovered and taken promptly in hand. A settled disease almost always kills the bird. The same watchfulness will teach you when to hold up on soft food, or when you are feeding too much beef scrap; the looseness of their bowels will show you when your fowls are weakening. Fowls can no more do their best at breeding with their systems all relaxed, than they can hold their own in the show room in a similar condition. And when you discover that they are in this condition, remove the cause. Cut off soft food; withhold corn entirely; a little sulphate of iron in the water pans will do them good. But don’t rush off for a lot of alum, nor any other astringent, while you keep on feeding them what caused the derangement. The astringent is only to be used as the last resort, and it will never be needed if the birds receive intelligent care. Again, this goes far to answer another question, the repetition of which in the poultry papers is so tiresome: how to prevent sterility in Plymouth Rock fowls. Remove the causes of sterility. Keep up the health of the birds and their eggs will hatch well enough. Another question is entwined with this, namely: how many hens should be placed with a male bird? I have never heard nor seen an intelligent answer to that question. Page 33: The days when premiums could be won by ignorant and careless exhibitors have gone past. The scores have advanced wonderfully within a few years. To refer to my own experience through the campaigns of 1877 and ’78, meeting the best birds with such men as C.H. Crosby and A.M. Halstead for judges. I have the cards to show the repeated awards of 1st and 2nd on Plymouth Rock fowls and chicks, and all possible specials upon birds, no one of which could score above 91 unless by extra weight. This season of ’80, my Partridge Cochins and Rocks hardly win at 95, and I can turn out in show condition a certified score of 97. Page 34: In the first place, high color and low condition are not found in the same bird. To have color at its best, the bird must be at his best. If I should venture to designate the one department in the whole culture of Plymouth Rocks as to which the general notions were most crude and unconsidered, I should be compelled to say that it is upon this very point. Chiefly this is so, because the general laws of color are unknown, or disregarded, in their application to the plumage of the domestic fowl, and, finally, because there have been various theories and confusing terms used in talking and writing about the colors of the Plymouth Rock. Page 36: The sharpness of definition between the colors upon a Plymouth Rock cock, which we only see at its best in high condition, begins to diminish as soon as the bird is allowed to breed, whether the light strikes it or not. By the same law, that whatever exhausts the system drains out the color principle, the colors upon a Plymouth Rock pullet or hen, after they begin laying, are never what they were before, and can never be made what they were by any possible process. Life has passed its ripeness, and Nature takes in her sign by reducing the brilliancy of the color, just as surely as she begins to shrink the comb and blanc the face. Page 37: Even if there could be such a thing as keeping the plumage fresh for a long time, there would still be the serious damage to the bird’s appearance, which is an important matter in case of a bird barred like the Plymouth Rock, that would be brought about by the fact that the markings on the feathers that and not gained their full length would not match in the plumage with the other and longer feathers. Nature calculates to a nicety just exactly how far every feather shall lap over every other, and so cunningly arranges the bars in their relation to each other that the charm of that perfect beauty which is a chief attraction of the Plymouth Rock, only appears when every feather is perfectly in its place and fully grown. Page 42: Birds not matching in show pen. This is a general disqualification, i.e. it is not confined to this particular breed. It may as well be understood that this does not relate at all to the breeding of the Plymouth Rock; it signifies nothing as to whether or not they are bred, or will naturally breed, in this way. Dark Brahmas, Light Brahmas, Partridge Cochins, will none of them breed as they are matched for show. Their being matched for show is no indication as to how they should be mated for breeding; it is only required on the ground of general fitness. The show, taken altogether, is vastly improved by having the birds mated as to uniformity of appearance, the same as a company of soldiers makes a better appearance in “uniform,” and graded as to the height of the men. Page 44: Take a bird that runs, and whose ear lobe seems perfectly red, pull the skin a little so as to smooth out the wrinkles, and you will find frequently whitish spots in the depths of every fold. A Plymouth Rock’s ear lobe is no better and no worse. This is why I advise, in preparing specimens for show, that after the plumage is sufficiently seasoned, the bird shall be turned out to give him a good ruddy face and a firmly set comb. Nature secretes that opaque matter in the ear lobe. You will scarcely find a bird of any breed in which it is entirely absent, although it may not show in the case of a bird in high condition, running where sun and wind can touch him up with a regular out-of-doors complexion. A white ear lobe should clearly disqualify, as a red ear lobe would a Leghorn, but a pale face may be simply the result of confinement or low condition, and should receive its punishment under the head of what caused it. Many a Plymouth Rock has been thrown out for a pale ear lobe, or for even having noticeable whitish spots in its texture, when two weeks of sunshine, with generous food, would have given him a face as vividly red as the best. Take the reddest faced bird you have, shut him up in the shade, and see for yourself how soon the white will appear in the depressions and folds of the ear lobes. Let us have no more birds thrown out for pale ear lobes; or even for slight spots of white in the skin of the ear lobe, when it is plain that those spots will disappear with improved condition. Page 46: VI. Wry tails. Plymouth Rocks are not so subject to the accidents that usually cause this blemish as either the heavier and clumsy birds that are liable to fall backwards in failure to reach high perches, or the lighter beds so lively as to be sometimes caught by the tail and dislocate that appendage in struggles to get away. The judge must be careful not to confound a tail actually awry with one that droops upon either side from weakness. A tail can be awry upon only one side, and even if it is caused by a wound which shrinks in healing so as to pull the tail around, there is no help for it. Sometimes a tail can be straightened by making a wound on the slack side and pulling it around that way until it heals. Generally, our fanciers on this side of the water do not begin to practice the accomplishments in the various applications of surgery in preparing birds for show as those in which our English brethren prove themselves adepts. VII. Splashes of white in the breast or back, or reddish or brassy feathers in the hackles or saddles of cock, or in the necks of hens. The rest of the disqualifying cases can all go under one head; false feathers stand for the whole of it. Here the Standard is very weak. Why not splashes of black as well as white? If in breast or back, why not in fluff? If reddish, why not white, black, green, purple, yellow? In fat, the fowl may be decked in all the seven colors of the rainbow, except red, and I can think of no scientific reason why he should be denied the privilege of also wearing that innermost color of the secondary bow. It is not a question of what colors are most likely to appear, but what business they have there at all. A single false feather throws out a Houdan, and it ought to throw out a Plymouth Rock. There is no excuse for false feathers at this stage of breeding, and one is as bad as fifty. It springs from the blood, and there are “more where that comes from.” Page 47: So long as they are tolerated, so long we shall be afflicted by unscrupulous dealers palming off a lot of mongrels for pure-bred Plymouth Rocks; besides, the color is one of the strongest and easiest to bring up to absolute perfection. Cut off their heads, and stop the flow of such impure streams which threaten ruin to the work of years of patient breeding. I should consider it a calamity if such a bird got into my yard by any means. Page 48: You may set it down that no man is a qualified judge of one breed, who knows but one; and this rule is capable of an indefinite extension. The nearer he comes to knowing all breeds, the better judge he is of any individual. I cannot take space here to argue the case, but the most crude and unreasonable notions that I have ever seen spread before an admiring public, have come from those who “did not see how” the Standard could be applied to the Plymouth Rock, because they knew nothing of how it was or ought to be applied to other breeds. The Standard has more than a single edge; it cuts both ways. It contemplates the specimen in its relation to all other breeds, and also as an individual of the particular breed. It must be as distinctly a Plymouth Rock, as it must be a fowl at all. You cannot construe the Standards in one sense when applied to Plymouth Rocks, and in another when applied to Games. How many an arbitrary judge will chop off a Plymouth Rock’s head by disqualifying for a pale ear lobe, or for one in which the slightest whitish grains appear. There is a plausible reason for it; the bright red ear lobe gives such a finish to the head. But you cannot cut off the Leghorn’s head in that way unless its ear lobe is actually red, and a full, clear white, fine textured ear lobe is as charming and graceful upon the Leghorn, as a red one is upon the Plymouth Rock. Give the Connecticut boy fair play — the same chance for his red ear lobe as you must give the Italian with his white one; but I would give the Plymouth Rock no further allowance in that point than I would a Brahma. All Asiatics will show pale ear lobes from confinement, and most of them white specks in the folds of the skin, but not one of the Asiatics, nor Games, nor Game Bantams, nor Dorkings, nor any of the French class — al red ear lobed birds — is disqualified by the Standard for having pure white ear lobes; and an entire class — Polish, cannot be disqualified for pure red ear lobe, although the Standard calls for pure white. Page 49: The Dominique is subject to the same censure as the Plymouth Rock, for ear lobes “other than red.” The reason is at hand; it is his certificate of freedom from foreign blood. So when you take up the Plymouth Rock in his character as an American, the trace of the European cross in a white ear lobe should be condemned, keeping in mind the nature of ear lobes; while traces of the Asiatic cross in false feathers of any kind should not be tolerated, for this is to be again considered, that owing to the strength of the Dominique color, a false feather beyond the second cross is of the rarest occurrence. There is some excuse for allowance as to the ear lobe, because Asiatic breeds frequently show very pale ear lobes, but no excuse for false feathers, and such mongrels are unworthy of the name of Plymouth Rock, and also of competing in honorable company. Page 50: And you must bear in mind that in Standard for Plymouth Rocks the book deviates from its general rule in giving both cock and hen the same carriage. Page 51: It clear up the doubtful or critical spectator’s mind to have a bracket penciled on the score card, as in the case of the one printed, indicating the part of the bird for failure in which he is punished in symmetry. If in more than one part, let the line branch at the bottom to neck, or back, or wings. To confirm my assertion as to the relative importance given to this point in judging Plymouth Rocks, I have only to say, it is two points higher than in most varieties, (which give ten to symmetry), while only the Dorkings and Black Hamburgs go to fifteen. Page 52: Our hero next mounts the platform scales, to determine whether his vanities or solid qualities predominate. If the crop is stuffed full to make unlawful weight, he will have been cut for symmetry, if the judge has good spectacles, so that sort of cunning should defeat itself. Under this head there is but one common error that I need to correct. Those who do not like large Plymouth Rocks, need not have them. They have only to hatch them late and feed them sparingly, and they (such fanciers) will be happy. It is so much easier to raise small birds — anyone can do that — and then some of them want to drag the Standard down to their little birds. I do not see the sense in that, nor in their being offended if other people do not think with them, that a small Plymouth Rock is the best. I cannot escape the conviction that some of those who talk this way know better. There is another class, who honestly think that the A.P.A. has erred in placing the Plymouth Rock among the heaviest breeds, supposing (and saying) that an intermediate size of bird is wanted between the European class and the Asiatic. Such of our friends are simply mistaken, and I have only to refer them to Plate E to convince them what a noble and beautiful bird the Standard places exactly in that position. It is really a consistent graduation by which the American class comes between the European and Asiatic, and the steps go up — European, Dominique, Plymouth Rock, Asiatic. Those who choose to breed the Plymouth Rock down to the place the Standard gives to the Dominique have a perfect right to do so for their own gratification, the same as anyone has a right to breed the Light Brahma down to that size if he likes them better for his own use. If you do that, you should stand up like a man and take the punishment for deficiency in weight which you change in showing your birds. You think they are find enough to win in spite of it, or you would not exhibit. Page 55: It is a good thing for the Plymouth Rock that he has not to raise the rose-comb of the Dominique, with its fifteen points, but can devote his energies to business matters. The Standard requires him to have a good comb, but is not exacting upon this point, as will be seen by comparing with this Dorkings and Polish, ten; Black Spanish, thirteen; Andalusians and Hamburgs, fifteen, except White and Black, which are compelled to make twenty. Page 57: Wings are usually slashed severely without reflection. Standard only furnishes three points for each wing. You cannot cut primaries more than two points, and have anything left for secondaries and coverts. Bad color on coverts damages the bird certainly as much as want of bars or white in primaries. Cut either of these from one or two. You must save one point for secondaries, where want of bars in outside web should receive the extent of the penalty. If wing does not fold or set properly, you have noted that in symmetry. If not very prudent, you will use up all the ammunition the Standard furnishes before you are half through. You may even have to do something with bad color in bows. Standard attaches no such value to a Plymouth Rock’s wing as it does to that of a Spangled Hamburg, where twenty points are given to wings. Page 59: Whether you have taken the prize with your birds or not, fortify them for the homeward journey as well as you can. Always attend to them yourself, if possible, so far as this: to pack your fowls for home. The ex-committee is always in a hurry, and your pets are already in a most critical condition. Bear them home tenderly; let not the rude wind strike them; let them want no consideration that can help them to rest and comfort. Dangers dare not yet over, for contagious diseases may lurk in the feathers and call for disinfectants. But with kindness and care all will be well. In taking this leave of my subject and my readers, permit me to cherish a similar hope. As to my subject, I have reached the end of an enthusiastic study. As to my readers, if I have not cleared up for them the Plymouth Rock question, I have at least set out its proportions, and brought it within the reach of their own comprehensive philosophy. Goodbye, and good luck to you. Page 60: Score Card. Entry No. 115. Exhibition at Springfield, Mass., 1880. Plymouth Rock Chicks. (chart of body measurements.

[illbefinealonereads]

Chapter 5: Carnival (Excerpt from Freeks by Amanda Hocking)

5. carnival

Unlike many of the other members of the sideshow, I didn’t have a specific job. My mom was a fortune- teller, Gideon did a magic show, Zeke had his tigers, Brendon and his family did acrobatics, Seth was a strongman. My best friend Roxie Smith was in two acts— she helped out Zeke, and did a peepshow revue with two other girls.

I had no talent. No special ability, making me essentially a roadie. I did what was needed of me, which usually involved helping set up and take down, and various menial tasks. I cleaned the tiger cages and emptied out latrines when I had to. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was crucial to our way of life.

Since Roxie worked with the tigers, Mahilā actually tolerated her. Roxie was helping me clean out the tiger cage they traveled in. The cage was open to a fenced-in enclosure Seth had built, so the tigers could roam as they pleased.

Safēda lounged in the grass, the sun shining brightly on her white fur. Whenever we stopped, Safēda seemed content to just lay in the sun, sleeping the entire time, but as the older tiger, it made sense.

Mahilā paced along the fence, occasionally emitting an irritated guttural noise in between casting furtive glances back toward Roxie and me. Her golden fur was mottled with scars from her past life in the abusive circus, including a nasty one that ran across her nose.

“So where did you go last night?” Roxie asked, her voice lilting in a sing song playful way. She was out in the run, using a hose to fill up a blue plastic kiddie pool so the tigers could play in it, while I was on my hands and knees scrubbing dung off the cage floor.

Her bleached blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and the sleeves of her white T- shirt were rolled up, revealing her well-toned arms. The cut- off jean shorts she wore barely covered her bum, and her old cowboy boots went up to her knees— her chosen footwear anytime she was at risk of stepping in tiger poop.

With fair skin, full lips, large blue eyes, and a dainty nose, Roxie was pretty and deceptively tough. Being a beautiful carnie was not an easy job, and dancing in the revue under the stage name “Foxy Roxie” didn’t help that. But she made decent money doing it, and Roxie never put up with anybody’s crap. I’d seen her deck guys much bigger than her and lay them out flat on their backs.

“I was just at a party,” I said as I rinsed the brush off in a bucket of bleach and warm water.

“A party?” Roxie looked over at me with a hand on her hip.

           “How’d you get invited to a party so fast?”

I shrugged. “I was just exploring town, and I saw some people hanging outside of this big house party, and they invited me in.”

“So what are the people like here? Are they nice?”

Safēda had gotten up and climbed into the pool, and then she flopped down in it, splashing Roxie as she did. Roxie took a step back, but kept looking at me.

“I don’t know. The people I met last night seemed nice, and they were superrich, so that bodes well for the town, I guess.”

“Like how rich?” Roxie asked.

“Like their house is practically a mansion.” I dropped the brush in the water and sat back on my knees, taking a break to talk to her. “It was the nicest house I’ve ever been in, hands down.”

“Is that why you spent the night there?”

Roxie understood my fascination with houses. Well, “understood” wasn’t the right word. It was more like she knew of it, but didn’t understand it all. She’d grown up in an upper- middleclass family, in nice houses with basements, and thought they were about as boring and lame as she could imagine.

“Partly.” I nodded. “It was a really amazing house. There were pillars out front, and the front hall was bigger than my trailer.”

“It’s just a house, Mara.” Roxie shook her head.

“I know but . . .” I trailed off, trying to think of how to explain it to her. “You know how you felt when you first joined the sideshow two years ago? How everything seemed so exciting and fun, and I was like, ‘We live in cramped trailers. It kinda sucks.’”

Roxie nodded. “Yeah. But I still think this life is a million times better than my old life. I get to see everything. I get to decide things for myself. I can leave whenever I want. There’s nothing to hold me back or tie me down.”

She’d finished filling up the pool, so she twisted the nozzle on the hose to shut it off. Stepping carefully over an old tire and a large branch that the tigers used as toys, she went to the edge of the run and tossed the hose over the fence, before Mahilā

decided to play with it and tore it up.

She walked over to the cage and scraped her boots on the edge, to be sure she didn’t track any poop inside, before climbing up inside it.

“So what was the other reason?” Roxie asked.

I kept scrubbing for a moment and didn’t look up at her when I said, “Gabe.”

“Gabe?” Roxie asked. “That sounds like a boy’s name.”

“That’s because it is.”

“Did you have sex with him?”

“No.” I shot her a look. “We just made out a little.”

“What what what?” Luka Zajiček happened to be walking by just in time to hear that, and he changed his course to walk over to the tiger cage. “Is that what you were up to last night?”

“That’s what sucks about living in a community so small. Whenever anything happens, everybody knows about it right away,” I muttered.

Luka put his arms through the cage bars and leaned against it, in the area I’d cleaned already. Since he was rather short, the floor came up to his chest, and his black hair fell into his eyes.

His eyes were the same shade of gray as mine, but his olive skin was slightly lighter than mine. We first met him when he joined the carnival four years ago, and the first thing my mom said was that she was certain that we were related somehow.

Unfortunately, Mom knew next to nothing about our family tree to be able to prove it. All she could really tell me was that we were a mixture of Egyptian, Turkish, and Filipino, with a bit of German thrown in for good measure.

Luka had been born in Czechoslovakia, but he’d moved here with his family when he was young, so he’d lost his accent.

He had recently roped me into helping him with a trick. He’d stand with his back against a wall, while I fi red a crossbow around him. Originally, Blossom had been the one to help him, but she kept missing and shooting him in the leg or arm, so he’d asked me to do it because I had a steadier hand.

“So you made out with some local guy last night?” Luka asked, smirking at me. “Are you gonna see him again?”

“He’s a local guy. What do you think?” I asked, and gave him a hard look.

Luka shrugged. “Sometimes you bump into them again.”

“And that goes so well when they find out that I work and live with a traveling sideshow,” I said.

The floor was spotless, or at least as spotless as tiger cages can get, and I tossed my brush in the bucket and took off my yellow rubber gloves.

“We can’t all meet our boyfriends in the sideshow,” I reminded Luka as I stood up, and it only made him grin wider. He’d been dating Tim— one of the Flying Phoenixes— for the past three months.

“But you didn’t see Blossom anywhere in town last night?” Roxie asked, and Luka’s smile instantly fell away.

A sour feeling stirred in my stomach, and I looked out around camp through the bars of the cage, as if Blossom would suddenly appear standing beside a trailer. As I’d been doing my chores all morning, I kept scanning the campsite for her, expecting her to return at any moment with a funny story about how she’d gotten lost in town.

But so far, she hadn’t. And the longer she went without coming back, the worse the feeling in my stomach got. I shook my head. “No. I didn’t see her at all last night.”

“She’s gotta turn up, though, right?” Luka asked. “I mean, it’s not like there are really that many places she could’ve gone considering she has no money or car and she’s in a small town.”

The tigers were still down in the run, so I opened the side gate and hopped down out of the cage. Roxie got out behind me, then we closed the door.

“I should talk to Gideon,” I decided as Roxie locked the cage up behind me. “It’s not like Blossom to do this.”

“It’s not totally unlike her, though,” Roxie pointed out.

“When we were in Toledo six months ago, she dis appeared for a few days with that weird commune, and came back just before we were leaving, totally baked out of her mind.”

Blossom had grown up with parents who pretended to be hippies but were really just a couple of drug addicts. That— along with her unexplainable telekinesis— led to her dabbling with drugs and alcohol at a young age, before the state intervened and shipped her off to a group home.

My mom tried to keep her clean of her bad habits, but sometimes Blossom just liked to run off and do her own thing. That wasn’t that unusual for people who lived in the carnival.

“But if you’re worried, you should talk to Gideon,” Roxie suggested. “Luka’s right in that Blossom really couldn’t have gone far. Maybe you can scope out Caudry.”

“Since that sounds like a mission that may take a bit of time, can you help me and Hutch with the museum before you talk to Gideon?” Luka asked. “The exit door is jammed, and we can’t get it open, and Seth is busy helping set up the tents.”

“Sure. Between me and Mara, I’m sure the two of us can get the door unstuck,” Roxie said.

I dropped off the bucket with the other tiger supplies, and then followed Roxie and Luka away from our campsite to the fairgrounds on the other side of a chain- link fence. We always stayed close to the rides, the midway, and the circus tent, but we didn’t actually sleep there. It was much better for every one if we kept our private lives separate from the crowds.

Many of the games were already set up, and the Ferris wheel was in the process of being erected as we passed. Near the end of the midway was a long black trailer painted with all kinds of frightening images of werewolves and specters, along with happier pictures of mermaids and unicorns, and the sign was written in bloodred:

Beneath that were several smaller signs warning “Enter at your own risk. The creatures inside can be DISTURBING and cause NIGHTMARES.”

The entrance to the left was open, but the exit door at the other end was still shut. Wearing a pair of workman’s gloves, Hutch was pulling at the door with all his might. His neon green tank showed that his muscles were flexed and straining in effort. The bandana kept his dark brown hair off his face, but sweat was dripping down his brow.

“Let me have a try, Hutch,” Roxie said.

“What?” He turned to look back at her. “Door’s stuck.”

“I can see that. That’s why I said let me have a try.”

“Okay.” Hutch shrugged and stepped back.

Hutch’s real name was Donald Hutchence, but nobody ever called him anything but Hutch. He didn’t have any special powers, unless you considered being really agreeable and easygoing a super power, so, like me, he was left doing whatever else needed to be done.

Roxie grabbed the door and started pulling on it, and when it didn’t budge, I joined her.

“Luka, go and push from the inside,” Roxie commanded through gritted teeth.

Both Luka and Hutch went inside, pushing as Roxie and I pulled. And then all at once, the door gave way, and we all fell back on the gravel. I landed on my back, scraping my elbow on the rocks.

Roxie made it out unscathed, and Hutch fell painfully on top of me, so he’d avoided injury. Luka crashed right on the gravel, though, and the rocks tore through his jeans and ripped up his knees and the palms of his hands pretty badly.

“Do you need me to get a Band- Aid or anything?” Hutch asked as he helped me to my feet.

“No, I’ll be okay.” I glanced over at Luka and the blood dripping down his knees. “What about you? Do you want anything?”

“Nah. Just give it a few minutes.” Luka waved it off and sat down on the steps leading up to the museum door.

No matter how many times I saw it, I couldn’t help but watch. His knee was shredded, with bits of gravel sticking in the skin. Right before my eyes, the bleeding stopped, and the rocks started falling out, as if pushed by his flesh, and the skin grew back, reattaching itself where it had been little mangled flaps.

Within a few minutes, Luka’s knee was healed completely.

Copyright © 2017 by Amanda Hocking and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Griffin.

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Picture credit: Mariah Paaverud with Chimera Photography Amanda Hocking is a lifelong Minnesotan obsessed with Batman and Jim Henson. In between watching cooking shows, taking care of her menagerie of pets, and drinking too much Red Bull Zero, she writes young adult urban fantasy and paranormal romance. 

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