#maison stains

[mewpirate]

Pepsi redesign i didnt finish yet anyways kid and leveret fits Skin-taker and Percy along with my farewells to the fields / bird cage blue and yellow

[fleurheon]

maison margiela artisanal kiss shirt (2006/2007)

[iwatobixsamezuka]

Transitional Closet Example of a mid-sized transitional women's carpeted walk-in closet design with flat-panel cabinets and light wood cabinets

[paletapessoal]

More details.

Art Nouveau stained glass windows made by Antoine Bertin, 1900. Maison-atelier Louis Joseph Antoine Schott Quai Choiseul 6, Nancy, France.

[hrrtshape]

PLEASE talk about your gossip girl dr you mentioned and young coryooo🥺🥺🥺🥺

things that my boyfriend does in my better cr that....truly warms my heart ( aka emma yaps about coryo )

finished writing this up in maths class, and i just know my teacher thinks i’ve lost the plot….... why are you side-eyeing me? let me giggle in peace.

he carries (one of) my lip glosses in his pocket and acts like it’s the biggest inconvenience but pulls it out instantly when i ask.

sharing airpods in class like it’s a lifeline but he always gives me the one that’s fully charged while he suffers with the dying one.

taking pictures of me when i’m not looking and making them his lock screen. which. ugh. cutie.

he lets me draw on his arm with a pen during class and then complains when it doesn’t wash off before dinner with his parents.

matching hoodies but we pretend it’s not on purpose.

dumb little inside jokes that make absolutely no sense to anyone else. he texts me "frog incident" in the middle of a test and i have to physically leave the room because i’m laughing too hard.

he always ties my shoelaces for me if they come undone, even if it means getting on one knee in the middle of the hallway like a loser.

doodling on my notes in class and writing things like property of coriolanus snow just to get a reaction out of me. weirdo......cringe lowkey. no i love him.

him randomly biting my shoulder when he’s bored.

me (!!) biting his bicep when i'm bored.

he always waits for me outside my last class leaning against the wall like he’s in a music video.

wearing my scrunchie on his wrist because i “left it in his car” (he did NOT have to keep it on).

fell asleep on each other during long drive and woke up to find he’s holding my hand in his sleep.

we made dubai chocolate, and thank god i know my baking cause he curdled the only chocolate we had.

taking me to the gym (ew), but not for like any malicious reason, actually i was the one who suggested it because this man *exercises*!!!!! like ok miss productive at a gym at five am.

matching the maison margiela tabi shoes, it's such a small detail, but i absolutely adore it. he'd be wearing lace-ups and i'd be wearing ballet flats.

driving me to school every morning.

i just have to mention this one part cause it’s so GRAH but i was walking out of my apartment complex and he was leaning against one of the pillars smoking and i came outside and he like wrapped his arm around my shoulder and continued smoking with his free hand. like okay..........

picking me up from the airport at 1am a few days before new years because i got out of the holiday family meetups just a bit earlier to see him.

when i got drunk on soju during the lighting of the tree at rockefeller centre and he was trying to heat me up.

he pinches my cheek. and that’s so evil. like. what the fawk. cherubicusm is NOT A FUNNY THING.

if he’s tired or annoyed or just being an absolute menace, he hooks a finger through my belt loop and just tugs me where he wants me. like i’m a thing to be dragged around. (and maybe i like it a bit....)

late-night drive-thru runs where he insists on ordering for me even though i could do it myself, just so he can say “and a chocolate milkshake for my girl” like we’re in a 1950s movie.

he keeps a lipstick-stained napkin from a dinner date in his wallet and pretends it’s just in there by accident, but he refuses to throw it away.

when i do my makeup in his room, he sits on his bed and watches.

he always puts my hair behind my ear when it falls in my face. not even thinking about it. just automatic.

when i fell asleep on his shoulder during a flight, he stayed awake the whole time just so my head wouldn’t move.

he let me paint his nails, but only clear polish, and only if i promised not to tell anyone.

he never lets me carry my own suitcase. ever. even when i argue.

when we go to stupid parties, he always keeps an arm around my shoulder when we’re moving through crowds, just so we don’t get separated.

he untangles my necklace chain when it gets knotted. just takes it from my hands and fixes it like it’s nothing.

i didn't respond to his texts once and he sent me a picture of my own house like “i know you’re in there.”

this is the mooooost miniscule but ungodly detail that made me want to marry him, but, having soy milk in his fridge. mind you, he lives with his family (he's 18 and we're still in school) and i visit 7 times max per week (every day....). and. wow. ugh.

every time he borrows a pen, he returns it with the cap bitten.

when i was complaining about my hands being cold, he took them in his and blew warm air on them.

when i’m walking ahead of him, he loops a finger through my bag strap and tugs me back. like...... not so fast. like.... where do you think you’re going?

we hook our pinkies together when walking. monster.

he adjusts my necklace when it gets twisted, gently brushing his knuckles against my throat. no acknowledgment. no reaction. just fixes it and moves on. (like a freak.)

if we’re arguing and i cross my arms, he just reaches out and tugs my wrist free, uncrossing them with this calm, effortless little motion. LIKE??? HELLO??? I NEED THAT BACK, ACTUALLY???

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

your lipstick stain is a work of art

Masterlist

Giving Epel, Leona and Ace a DIY Maison Margiela Kiss Shirt

Warnings: Reader is female

I may have gotten a bit carried away in Leona’s part 😅

EPEL FELMIER

After listening to another one of Epel’s rants on Vil’s strict training regimen, you came up with a bright idea. Even though you couldn’t see his face due to the way he was spooning you, you could tell from how his rough country accent would get more and more prominent that he was more than annoyed - and thankfully, you knew the best way to cheer him up.

“Hey, Epel,” you piped up, turning your head to look right at him, effectively cutting through his tirade, “that new makeup set that your Dorm Leader gave you? You haven’t opened it yet, right?”

“Uh no,” he scrunched his nose up in confusion, “A hate the stuff.”

“Then can I have the lipstick, please?” 

“Um, sure? I mean, I’m not gonna use it. But why?”

“You’ll see…”

….

The next day, you set your plan into motion. Armed with the sleek black lipstick box that your boyfriend was more than happy to hand over to you and a crisp white shirt you had purchased from Sam’s, you began working on what you supposed was your magnum opus. Once you had finished, ten minutes later, you sent a quick text to Epel, telling him to meet you in your dorm for a ‘surprise’.

When he arrived, he was confused to find you standing at your doorway, dark red tinting your innocent smile, with your hands behind your back. 

“For you,” you chirped, still smiling as you handed him a neatly wrapped box. 

He took it from you slowly and cautiously, suspicious eyes not leaving your face as he searched for any hint of deception. You’ve never given him any reason to be wary of you, or to think that this might all be a prank, but considering you’re best friends with a certain red haired troublemaker, it didn’t hurt to be heedful. 

It was light, very light. He shook it but apart from faint rustling, he couldn’t hear anything that could clue him into what it was. He raised an eyebrow, “what’s in here, doll?”

“You’ll just have to open it and see.”

He ripped open the wrapping paper, letting the torn pieces fall to the floor as he found himself holding a box. Uncovering the lid, he looked down to find a white shirt, carefully folded inside, its collar and entire front covered in lipstick marks - lipstick marks that happen to look suspiciously similar to the shade that you currently wore on your lips right then…

Noticing how his surprise had frozen him, his eyes wise as he appeared entranced at the sight before him, you say, “do you like it? I figured that -”

You didn’t even get to start your explanation, let alone finish it, as you were engulfed by the comforting fragrance of fresh apples and his lips were pressing on yours like his life depended on it and your back was flush against the wall of your entrance passage. One of his hands  clutching the box protectively to his chest and the other flat against the wall right next to your head. You close your eyes and melt against him, letting your arms. When the need for air became more and more apparent, he reluctantly separated himself from you, eyes blazing.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

“So does that mean you like it?”

His answering kiss said more than enough.

….

You should’ve known that your little surprise would come back to bite you. As cherubic as your boyfriend appeared to be, he was nothing but a demon underneath those soft lavender locks and wide doe eyes.

You were reminded of this the next morning when he strolled into your shared homeroom class, right in the middle of registration.

“Mornin’ sir, sorry I’m late.” 

Beside you, you could hear Ace and Deuce choke on their breaths. The air of the room seemed to be submerged in freezing cold water as you could feel your fellow classmates freeze in their seats, a few of them whisper-shouting expletives of shock. Bewildered by the sudden change in atmosphere, you look up from your book, only to feel the rest of the world still around you and all the blood leave your face.

Standing at the entryway of the classroom was Epel Felmier, his posture upright and proud. He had abandoned his blazer, waistcoat and bowtie, and instead of his usual Schoenheit-approved expensive lacy high-collared shirt, he donned your gift, wearing his lipstick kiss stains like badges of honour. He waltzed into class bearing the grin of a cat that got the cream.  His smug aura was blinding and his confidence was so corporeal that he appeared to be triple his actual size.

“Mr Felmier,” Professor Crewel sternly asked him, years of teaching seeming to prevent him showing any sign of fluster, his eyes ignited with frustration, “what is the meaning of this?”

“My girl happens to be an artist, Professor,” Epel replied easily, “As a student of the dorm that prides itself in appreciating beauty, it would be rude and becoming to not show off her masterpiece.”

All at once, the entire class turned to look at you, their gazes searing, as you stared straight down at your desk, mentally calculating how hard you’d need to bang your head against it for you to end up in a coma. 

Once the Dorm Leader and Vice Dormleader of Pomefiore find out about Epel’s little stunt, you knew that you would be a goner. 

“Henchman, what is he talking about?” Grim demanded.

“Wow, Y/N,” Ace looked at you like you had suddenly grown three heads, “didn’t take you to be that type.”

“And what type would that be?” Deuce instantly came to your defence.

“ENOUGH!” Professor Crewel’s pointer smacked down against his desk, effectively silencing everyone yet again, “Mr Felmier, get to your seat at once. I expect to see you in detention this lunch break for violating the dress code. Rest assured, I will be taking this up with your Dorm Leader. And Miss L/N-” he turned to you with his sharp gaze, whilst Epel didn’t even look the slightest bit perturbed at facing his Dorm Leader’s impending wrath, “please stay behind after the bell rings. I have something to discuss with you.”

“Oh~” Ace muttered under his breath, “looks like papa’s angry.”

Needless to say, Epel managed to spend the rest of the day wearing that shirt. Throughout the entire time, you could feel the other students give you looks ranging from puzzled to amused to knowing.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

“Hmmm,” Leona sighs, amusement colouring the guttural resonance, as you press another drawn-out kiss under the sharp curve of his jaw, “not that I’m complaining, herbivore, but what’s with the sudden boldness?”

“Well,” you hum languidly, looking at the lipstick stain you left behind - another one to add to the growing collection you had scattered on his cheeks and lower face - moving your mouth lower to his pulse point and letting your lips linger on his skin before flicking your eyes up to look right into darkened green irises, “considering how you always make a big deal over me wearing your scent, I figured that I’d return the favour - let me mark my territory for a change.”

The smugness radiating off of him was palpable and you ignored the deep, satisfied rumble of his chest as you busy yourself with printing your crimson pattern onto the length of his neck, going lower and lower with every press. 

To be honest, finding yourself straddling his lap from his seat at the edge of his bed, your arms draped over his shoulders and his hands resting firmly onto your lower back, was not exactly what you expected when you entered the Dorm Leader’s bedroom to wake him up for his Spelldrive Club, but it definitely wasn’t an unwelcome change. And you certainly weren’t lying when you made that jab at his shamelessly obvious leonine instincts - the innate predatory need to broadcast to the entire school that you were not to be messed with - with the way he would nose and nuzzle at your neck until he was satisfied, or drape his too large blazer over your shoulders before sending you off to class. Though, if you were being candid, you had the suspicion that his behaviour was less to do with his species and more to do with Leona himself. After suffering through decades of denial, him finally being given what he covets so freely and willingly results in him wanting nothing to latch on and never let go, to hold the object of his affections in his arms to keep and protect and cherish. Of course, you could never complain as for all that he seemed to take from you, he also gave to you tenfold. It takes a great deal of trust for a lion to bare his neck (‘both literally and figuratively,’ you think as your mouth presses against the skin under his ear) and a lion as proud and closed-off as the second prince of Sunset Savanna? A feat like that was almost inconceivable. Even now, his tail is coiled around your leg like a vine of ivy as he let you do as you pleased with absolutely no questions asked.

When you once again come back up from yet another kiss, Leona uses this opportunity to cup your face with his hand, using just the right amount of pressure to to grip onto your jaw and rub his thumb over your cheek. His eyes, though still gleaming with want, melts into something more soft. As a master of strategic brilliance, his proficiency in self control is beyond admirable yet whenever you’re near, he finds himself unraveling. And he loves every second of it. His drinks up the sight of you: the flush of your cheeks, the black of your eyes, the smudged rouge of your lips that he smears even further with the edge of his thumb.

Oh Great Seven, you're perfect.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs, “my little herbivore’s got a set of claws on her. We’ll go on then.”

You smile back at him before resuming back to your original position.

You run your right hand down from his shoulders, not stopping your mouth's work as your fingers slide down his chest, swiftly and seamlessly hooking and undoing the buttons of his waistcoat. Grabbing onto the lapels of the honey golden material, you deftly push it downwards off of him, exposing the white expanse of his clothed torso as it falls limply onto his elbows. You then kissed the area near his clavicles, where the first button of his shirt had been left undone so that your lipstick stretched over both his tanned chest and the placket. Seeing the glaringly obvious red mark left behind on the pristine white fabric gave you an idea and before you knew it, you pressed dragging kiss after dragging kiss over the collar and upper side of the front of his shirt. 

You managed to only get to above his breast pocket before your boyfriend was dragging you back up and collided your lips together at a speed so fast it left you reeling. Before you could fully compute the change in direction, pounding knocks on the door snapped you out of your vertigo.

“OI, BOSS,” came the annoyed yells of Ruggie, “You were supposed to be at the club meeting five minutes ago. Quit foolin’ around with the prefect and get over here!”

Leona let out an irked growl but he made no move to shift his position, even when the incessant knocking failed to cease, “Okay! Okay! I’m coming. Jeez!”

“Wait,” you say as you get off his lap and watch him stand up, lipstick stains and all, pick up his duffle sports bag and head to the door, “are you leaving? Like that?”

“Why not?” was his unbothered reply.

Now that the spell over the room had been successfully broken and clarity and common sense once again seized control from the haze, the full impact of your actions dropped into your stomach like a lead anvil. With it being mid afternoon, the Savanaclaw common area, let alone the corridors of the school, would be in high traffic. The thought of the other students (and seven forbid the teachers) seeing him covered in marks and knowing exactly who put them there fills you with pure mortification, sending blood rushing upwards and making your cheeks burn.

“What’s this?” he turns around and makes his way over to you, towering over you and smirking down at your abashed and frozen figure, eyebrow raised, “where did my brave little herbivore go? Don’t tell me she’s all talk after the show she just put on.”

It’s settled. You can never show your face around NRC again. Your only options now are to beg Malleus to smite you with lightning or to pull an Idia and live the rest of your life as a hermit.

He slowly leans down and places a tender kiss on your forehead, whispering over your skin, “Don’t think that this is over. When I come back, I’ll show you how territory is truly marked. You better be prepared.”

He then saunters off, his bag slung over his shoulder, as he opens the door without a care in the world. You can faintly hear Ruggie’s deep inhale before a “WHAT THE HELL?!” fills your ears.

You should’ve known that you could never one up a predator.

(yes, I know that realistically it would be impossible for one application of lipstick to last that long but let me have this)

ACE TRAPPOLA 

It was when you heard the bathroom door slam shut, followed by the sound of your shower head spraying water, that the idea came to you. Knowing Ace, he would spend at least ten minutes in your shower since he liked to make use of the privacy and alone time that Ramshackle provides and his dorm denies. Or at least, that's his go-to excuse when asked why he spends more time sleeping over at your dorm instead of the one he was sorted into. 

Sending a playful smile to the door that separated the two of you, you slowly and quietly got out of bed so as to not disturb Grim (who still insisted on sleeping next to you, even after Ace became a staple in your life. You agreed with him, despite Ace’s annoyed refutes, simply stating that Grim and you would sleep together before your relationship and you weren’t planning on stopping that) and made your way to your closet where you kept one of Ace’s school shirts to prepare you for the occasion where he forgets to bring one. You then rustled through your drawers and pulled out a cylindrical stick of lipstick and got to work. Thankfully you had finished applying and kissing his shirt by the time he was done showering and was dressed and ready so when he entered your bedroom and was greeted by the sight of you wearing a mischievous grin, alarm bells started ringing.

“Hey, babe?” he asks with trepidation, “what do you have behind your back?”

“Nothing,” you answer lightly.

“Oh really?” and he swipes behind you but you dodge in the nick of time. Luckily for him, his fine-tuned basketball reflexes put him at an advantage and in no time at all, he’s got you pinned on your bed, with him sitting on top of you, legs straddled on either side of your hips, and you lying beneath him. In his hands he triumphantly holds your surprise. He unfurls the white fabric and holds it out in front of him with - and then almost drops it onto your face as red blooms across his nose and cheeks when he realises what he’s looking at

He looks at the shirt then at you then the shirt and you in quick succession, taking note as to how your lips appear to be the same shade as the marks on his shirt.

Scrambling together and haphazardly picking up what’s left of his bearings, he attempts to throw on his usual cocksure smirk but his still cherry red countenance betrays his flustered visage, “so what’s this, then.”

“A shirt,” you respond. 

“Looks like you made a lot of effort with this, sweetheart,” he muses, his eyes bright and jaunty, “are you so obsessed with me that you need to mark me up?”

“I thought it would be a fun prank. But seeing that you don’t seem to like it-” you make a move to grab at it but Ace holds both of your wrists down with one hand.

“Hey, who’s saying I don’t like it?!” he argues defiantly, “this has got to be the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

“Really?” you ask, eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Really,” he nods and then looks down at you mischievously, “why don’t I show you how much I like it?”

He then leans down and captures your lips with his and for the nth time of his life, Grim wishes that you were still single.

BONUS FOR ACE BECAUSE I LOVE HIM:

Ace then spends the next ten minutes trying to convince you to do the same to his basketball jersey

You know this boy decided to wear that shirt to the next Unbirthday party, relishing in his dormmates’ stares, the sound of crashing silverware, and the sights of your mortified expression, Cater’s phone recording everything and Riddle’s reddening face.

Poor Deuce goes bright pink and refuses to look at you for the next hour.

Honestly the lecture was so worth it. The collar and heaping and heaping of chores, not so much but he would totally do it again.

Yeah, it turns out that wearing a lipstick stained shirt isn’t technically against the rules and our resident rule-breaker definitely exploits that loophole. You know that rule where you have to wear pink when feeding the flamingos? Nowhere does it say that he’s not allowed to buy a light pink shirt that’s covered in hot pink kiss marks (you went along with this half because you wanted to stop his whining and half because you wanted to mess with his dorm leader for collaring Grim the day before)

Since you forbade him from wearing that shirt in public (for NRC’s collective sanity, Riddle’s vocal cords and Heartslabyul’s auditory abilities) Ace makes it a point to hang up that shirt on the door of his wardrobe in his dormitory so that he can brag about it to ‘the miserable and jealous singles’ he shares his living space with (RIP Deuce and the other Heartslabyul NPCs)

He also bought a few more shirts and begged asked you to do the same to them

That shirt is his new favourite thing of all time. He’s even changed his phone’s wallpaper and his Magicam icon (both of which used to be a selfie of you kissing his cheek as he smiles at the camera) to a mirror selfie of him wearing the shirt and you posing next to him.

[faerygrant]

Making out with Carmy and you get lipstick all over his face

[Sidenote/ I can imagine reader making a replica of the Maison Margiela lipstick shirt except she does it for Carmy on one of his chef whites as an intimate Valentine’s Day gift just for him when he’s cooking in the house 😭😭🫶😭😭]

He’d get so flustered if you did this in his office while everyone is out there. Especially if he doesn’t notice and then steps out to grab you a drink and you’re too hazed out to remind him there is lipstick stains of your lips covering his entire face. Just imagining him stepping into the kitchen and immediately Richie and Fak are whistling and being obnoxious about it. “Wohohoooo, you tryin out a new look Berzatto?” Richie is first to start the teasing and Carmen’s just like what? And then Fak follows with “I like the little look you got going on buddy, deep red is your colour” and Carmy is still fucking lost. “Alright what the fuck are you assholes talkin about?” And then Marcus comes in holding a tray of some desserts and has to break it to Carmy who is so quick to run back into the office, extremely flustered and a little embarrassed.

“You’re back… and empty handed, where’s my water Carm?” You question, laying on the sofa against his office wall and he’s “You didn’t tell me I had fucking lipstick all over my face” he groans immediately looking into his phone camera to assess the damage. “Oh shit, I forgot, m’so sorry Bear Bear.” You laugh hysterically, taking his pouty face in yours. “S’not funny, guys made fun of me.” He tries saying as your hands are still squishing his face and you can’t help but smile at how cute and pouty he’s being. “Aww is my Carmy Bear all flustered that his coworkers saw him covered in smooches, hmmm?” And he’s just rolling his eyes because while it may have been embarrassing he’d never take your kisses for granted.

[kayhi808]

They Met in Delacroix - Part 3

Masterlist

Bucky: What are you doing this Sunday, Cinderella?

Y/N: I'm not sure. What are WE doing?

Bucky: Want to meet up after work?

Y/N: Sure!

Bucky: Maison Bourbon? 6p?

That text had you walking on clouds all day. You just saw him on Friday & he's asking you out for Sunday. He just stirred up the butterflies in your belly again.

Thankfully the busy brunch crowd on Sunday kept you busy and made the time fly by. You're able to change at work, switching into jeans & a crisp white top. A little dab of Nest's Turkish Rose to your pulse points and you're ready.

You get to the jazz club a little early. Bucky said you'll have some drinks, find dinner & then he had a surprise for you. Wow! A man who actually took the time to plan out a date, let alone a surprise! You step into the club & its more crowded than you expected, so you wander in deeper to see if you can snag a table for you and Bucky when a hand wraps around your arm & jerks you backwards.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

You end up face to face with your jerk of an ex-boyfriend, "Eric." You can smell the alcohol on his breath and you already know this isn't going to end well.

"God, I thought you left!"

"Where was I supposed to go? You threw me out with nothing!" You struggle to pull away from him, but his grip only gets tighter until it feels like he'll snap your arm like a twig. "Get your hands off of me!" Your eyes start to tear up. "You're hurting me," you hiss.

"Is that what you expect? For me to pay to get rid of you?!"

"I don't want shit from you. I want you to let me go & stay away from me." You scratch at his fingers, trying to pry them off you, but his grip is like steel. He starts pulling you out of the jazz club, knocking you into a waitress, who spills her drinks on you. Eric continues dragging you outside, both preoccupied; him looking at you, you looking at your outfit, you walk straight into what feels like a wall.

"Watch where the fuck you're going!" You know that tone all too well & you're ready to apologize for Eric & his drunken obnoxiousness. You look up into familiar blue eyes and the last of your resolve starts to crumble.

Bucky almost doesn't recognize you. Your tear filled eyes and look of abject misery on your face, is not what he's familiar with. Bucky quickly grabs Eric by the neck, digging his Vibranium thumb into his pressure point above his collar bone. Eric screams & lets you go, falling to his knees. You hurry to Bucky's side. In a hushed whisper, "Are you alright?" You let out a sob. "Did he hurt you?" He squeezes harder on Eric & he slumps further down & tries to hold in his scream.

"It's ok. Please. I just want to leave," your head down with embarrassment.

Looming over Eric, Bucky glares down at him. "If I hear that you're anywhere near her, I'm coming back for you." He gives another hard squeeze, getting one last scream out of Eric as he collapses to the sidewalk trying to breathe through the pain.

Bucky leads you back to his truck, but you stop. You are parked in the opposite direction. "Y/N?" He tries to wrap you in his arms but you stop him, "Stop. I'm sorry, Buck."

"Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about." He tries to cradle your face in his hand but you push his hands away & step back.

"Don't." Brushing your tears away with your palms. You know your make up is messed up and you probably look horrible, but it matches how you feel. "I'm going home. I can't go anywhere now." Looking down at your stained outfit.

"At least let me take you home. You're in no condition..."

"I don't want you to!" You wrap your arms around yourself trying to self soothe but you flinch at the pain in your arm.

Bucky notices the bruise already swelling your upper arm, "Did he do that to you?"

"It doesn't matter." Taking a deep breath, "You've been so great to me, but I'm not worth the hassle. I dont' have my life together. Things are just...I don't know how...It's not what..." Your sobs break Bucky's heart. "It was nice meeting you & spending time with you, Bucky. I'll never forget it. Have a safe trip back to New York." You turn & head back to your truck. Bucky follows you at a distance to make sure you get to your truck ok.

Taking out his phone he calls Avenger's Intel Dept & reads off your license plate to them. "I need an address, right now. Send it to my phone." Bucky does a quick jog back to his truck to discreetly follow you home. The closer he gets to your home, the more he dislikes the area. This is not a safe place for you. He sees that your truck is in the parking lot & does a quick search to find your apartment. The light is on so he can assume you're safely inside.

*****

As soon as you walk into your apartment, you start stripping out of your daiquiri stained clothes, kicking it to a pile on the side. Your main goal is to get in the shower to clean off & have a good cry. You have to make it fast because you quickly run through your hot water. Fuck! You hate it here!

Scrubbed and clean, dressed in pajamas shorts and an oversized tee, you pick up your clothes and try soaking it in the tub, hoping none of that will leave a permanent stain. You had such hopes for tonight and Eric had to ruin it. God, you hated him. If only he'd fall into a swamp and get eaten by an alligator!

Your arm is really beginning to throb. You pop a couple of Tylenol and dig around the freezer for some frozen corn. You hold that against your arm and it feels like heaven. You curl up on your futon couch that doubles as your bed and almost give in to another cry session, but it's interrupted by a knock on your door.

Your heartbeat kicks up a notch. No one knows where you live. You pick up a metal bat you keep by the door. Before you can check to see who it is, "Princess, open up."

"Go away, Bucky!" What is he doing here?! No!

"I'm not leaving. We still have a date to go on." Silence. "Fine. I'll sit out here and eat these BBQ ribs by myself. I wish you could smell them. It smells even better than the ones Sam cooked up last week." The door cracks open a couple of inches. "Well, hello." You just stare at him through the crack and he sees the bat in you hands. "Think you're going to beat me up for some ribs."

"I might."

Bucky gives you a smile and leans closer, "You could try."

You lean the bat back in the corner & open the door wider, "How'd you find me?"

Shrugging, "I'm an Avenger." He walks forward slowly giving you every opportunity to stop him or tell him no, but you don't. He enters your apartment and you lock up after him. "Nice place."

"It's a shitty shoebox."

Frowning, "No. From outside, ok yes. But you've made inside nice and...cozy." He quickly drops a kiss on your wet hair and moves to put food on the kitchen counter. You follow him and he hears your stomach growling and he laughs. "Hungry??"

You refuse to answer but you take out 2 plates and hand one to him. When your plates are set and you grab some water and head to your couch. He would have to sit directly on your bag of frozen corn. "Was this going to be your dinner??"

"No. It was for my arm." That brings back Bucky's terrifying glare. He stand up and goes to the kitchen and grabs a tea towel & ties the bag to your arm. "Thank you."

Bucky lands a chaste but firm kiss on your mouth. "You never have to thank me for taking care of you." The second kiss is soft and sweet, "ok?" You nod. "Eat your dinner. It's getting cold." You smile at him and pick up a rib.

Dinner was delicious. He already knows you are easily bribed with food. The ease and familiarity of being with Bucky is so relaxing. You were afraid he'd want to talk about Eric but he didn't bring him up. Once dinner was over, and you cleaned up, you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tight. "I'm happy you're here. I'm sorry I was so rude earlier, back in town. But I'm very very grateful you showed up when you did. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Are you ready for your surprise?"

"What? Now?"

Nodding, "I need you to dress a little warmer than that. But dress comfortable." You grab leggings and an oversized sweater & go to the bathroom to change. "And hurry up. We don't want to be late."

******

Bucky gets you into his truck and starts driving outside of the city. "Where are you taking me?"

"It's a secret."

You drive a lil bit farther and the sky lights up. "Did you see that?!"

"Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Bucky immediately pulls off to the side of the road, "Bucky??" He stop the truck and jumps out running to your side to open the door to let you out. "What's happening?" He drags you around to the bed of the truck as the sky lights up again. Aurora Borealis. You gasp. Bucky lowers the tailgate and jumps in the back and scrambles to set up blankets and pillows. He lifts you up to join him on the back.

Being the secret nerd that he is, "It's rare that we're able to see it this far south." Bucky leans back with you in his arms. "But it'll be visible as far south as Hawaii right now." You snuggle in closer to him and you don't know what's more amazing to behold, the Northern Lights or this sweet man who did all of this for you.

@mostlymarvelgirl

[lumaconstante]

Hey guys, how are you?

I decided that maybe it would be a good idea to share my fanfic here, so here is chapter one, you can see more on my profile, or on the wattpad links. I wish you all a good read!

Star — Chapter One

Did some bird beat its wings in Asia?

Did some force take you because I didn’t pray?

Everything that was to come turned to ashes

Because it’s all over, it wasn’t meant to be

So I’ll say words I don’t believe

— Bigger than the whole sky - Taylor Swift

"My house... it’s not here."

It was the first thought I had upon waking up alone in one of the guest rooms of Wayne Manor in the morning.

The impeccably aligned white sheets, the cream-toned, monotonous walls, and the pitcher with a glass of water on the table beside the bed only emphasized the thought.

"My house is not here."

I whispered to myself, closing my eyes, and my heart ached.

Home. That word feels so foreign on my lips. Home has many names for me: "家 Ie," "maison," "hogar," house... whatever the name, I feel like I never truly understood its meaning. Home was never a physical place for me. Home, "a place where you can create lifelong memories." Home, for me, was wherever my mother was performing her shows. Tokyo, Paris, Rio de Janeiro, Madrid. Wherever she was, I was too. She was my home. The only one I knew.

And now, I have no home at all.

Maybe that's the downside of making someone your home. Once you lose that person, no matter where you go, you become a stranger. Not that it’s a feeling I’m unfamiliar with. I’ve always felt like a stranger in my own skin.

The last time I felt at home, it was June 1st. I was on the balcony of our house in Whitechapel, London. A cup of Earl Grey tea rested beside me along with the candy jar, which was empty—cookie jars never lasted long, especially when they were within my reach—but the tea, almost spilling out of the cup, had gone cold. I had added milk to the tea, as recommended, but I didn’t like it.

— “Of course, there’s no backing out...” — I sighed after rereading for the thousandth time the email thanking me for participating but informing me I hadn’t been accepted into the selection process for joining another idol group.

In recent years, groups of young artists in the "idol" format had become astonishingly popular. A new revolution in art was unfolding before my eyes, with Asia leading the charge in innovation.

And more than anyone, I knew that if I didn’t keep up, I’d be left behind.

— “I took a year to study and train my performances, and I still couldn’t debut at the company I wanted... What’s the point of life, anyway?” — I sighed as my eyes wandered to the starry sky stretching above me.

— “You’ll do better next time,” — my mother said, placing a hand on my shoulder before turning her attention to a call from her producer.

I rested my head on my hands, watching the stars shining faintly in that dark sea of uncertainties.

When my mother ended the call, she excitedly told me she was going on a tour and that I could take a break from my classes to join her closely.

We traveled through Tokyo, Amsterdam, Paris, Sydney, New York... But nothing prepared me for Gotham.

"I love you." That faint whisper still echoed in my mind, staining my vision red.

"I love you." And then, a deafening silence, filled with anguish and despair.

"I love you." And now I’m here, in a place I don’t know, with people I’ve only heard about.

I sighed, trying to wash those thoughts away. I knew that at some point I’d have to leave that bed and interact with the other residents of the house, though I had no desire to.

I was about to roll over again in bed and bury my face in the pillow when my phone buzzed, alerting me to a notification. I dragged my hand across the white sheets to reach the phone, the screen lighting up as soon as the device recognized my fingerprint.

"Dear Alice Hoshi,

We inform you that you have been accepted in the Mystic group admission exam (2nd round). You will receive our integration guidelines and the agreement contract to join our company group.

Please complete the attached form to finalize the enrollment documentation. Once the documentation process is complete, your debut will take place on August 1st. You are required to attend our headquarters in Gotham to begin your training on September 1st.

Sincerely,

NextFuture Enterprises."

For a moment, the world went silent. All I could hear was the echo of my mother’s microphone hitting the floor and rolling to my feet.

That dry, metallic sound.

My eyes scanned those words again.

That was everything I had wanted to read for so long. A few days ago, I’d be jumping and screaming around the hotel room.

But now, I didn’t know how to feel.

What was I supposed to feel?

How was I supposed to act?

My eyes lingered on those words until the phone screen turned off. I remained still, staring at the device in silence.

The screen lit up again, and the phone began to vibrate and chime, overwhelmed by so many notifications.

I hadn’t been given an opportunity because the company believed I had talent. No, I knew what they had in mind. I was the novelty, the gossip that would make them profit.

Until the start of the tour, no one knew Kira Hoshi had a daughter.

No one knew; only she and my father kept that secret, and of course, my aunt. But beyond that, no one knew.

Until she decided to reveal it to her fans during the first show of the tour in London, causing an uproar among her fans by calling me on stage to open and close the show with her.

Over time, I could see their divided opinions. Most felt betrayed by my mother, dissatisfied. They hated the idea of her having a life they didn’t know about. Idols didn’t have children. They were angelic beings created solely to bless mere mortals with their art and talent. Idols didn’t have relationships; they existed only to illuminate and shine on those without the same light.

That was one of the first lessons my mother taught me when I said I wanted to be an idol like her.

Before it was revealed that I was her daughter, no one even noticed me, but now, it seemed all the spotlights were pointed in my direction. I skimmed through countless offers filling my inbox with disinterest and then dropped the phone on the bed, standing up.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, wearing the black dress someone had left at my door in a black box with a matching black satin bow, and applied makeup to hide the dark circles from a sleepless night.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me; I knew my father was waiting for me somewhere in the mansion to accompany me to the funeral, which he had personally arranged.

It was a kind gesture, considering he’d been absent for most of my life—not that I cared; I barely knew him.

Bruce Wayne was barely a name in my family.

— “All set?” — he asked softly as I descended the stairs, and I nodded silently in response.

“I’d like to introduce you to someone,” he said, and a boy with dark skin, green eyes, and hair as dark as Bruce’s appeared in the mansion’s entry hall, dressed in a fine, dark suit.

“This is my other son. Your younger brother, Damian.”

As for me, I almost blended into the white walls of the house. I was albino, a condition that had always bothered me. It wasn’t easy to go unnoticed; heads almost snapped when I walked through hallways. But my mother loved it.

"Kimi no kami ni wa hoshi no kagayaki ga aru (You have the brightness of stars in your hair)," she used to say.

— “Pleasure to meet you,” the boy who was almost a replica of Bruce approached, looking at me intently.

— “My condolences,” he added.

I studied him for a moment, trying to ignore the fact that my father had chosen to be part of one child’s life over another.

— “Likewise,” I murmured, looking away.

— “Thank you.”

— “There are more people I’d like you to meet,” my father said.

“Another time. The car is ready. Shall we?”

Again, I nodded silently and followed them into the car. The fifteen-minute drive to the mausoleum where my mother would rest was entirely silent.

When I stepped out of the car with my father and Damian, reporters surged toward us like vultures with insensitive questions.

The flashes blocked my vision; this was nothing more than a spectacle for the media. They would profit from my pain.

I didn’t answer the questions, didn’t look at the cameras; I just walked between my father and Damian to the front-row chairs as the priest began the sermon. My mother never considered herself Catholic; she wasn’t even a religious person, yet the people around seemed moved.

They tried to persuade me to say a few words about how she had been a good mother, but I didn’t want to.

Words weren’t necessary.

I had said everything I wanted to her while she was alive. We were never ones to leave what mattered for later.

At the end of the sermon, my father accompanied me to the casket so I could say goodbye. He left a bouquet of white roses on her eternal resting place, frowning as I removed them, replacing them with red tulips.

— “She always hated roses,” I said simply, looking at her eternally peaceful face. She looked more radiant than ever.

"The stars shine their brightest in their final moments, more than at any other time in their long existence," she once told me.

“You’re right,” I almost whispered but didn’t. I stayed silent, just watching her. I don’t know how long I stood there, but eventually, I left, leaving my father and Damian behind, waiting in the car with the butler until everything was over.

The butler, whom I learned was named Alfred, kindly drove around in silence and returned to the burial site when everyone was gone, giving me a few minutes alone with my mother.

— “NextFuture Enterprises accepted my application,” I said, looking at her pale, serene face. “I wish you were here to see it; you would have been happy.”

Warm tears slid gently down my cheeks, but I quickly wiped them away. I leaned softly over her body and kissed her forehead, feeling my heart tighten.

"I love you..." The voice echoed in my mind.

— “I love you too,” I whispered, stumbling over my own feet as I stepped back.

— “I’m sorry I don’t have any words for you now; I spent all I had on you while you were alive.”

Finally, they closed the casket and carried it into the mausoleum. I watched the wooden door shut, and then it began to rain.

I stood there until I felt the rain stop falling on me. It hadn’t stopped raining; it was just my father holding a black umbrella to shield me.

— “Let’s go home,” he said, gently guiding me to the car with his hand on my back.

Before entering the vehicle again, I glanced at that mausoleum one last time, with the certainty in my heart that Gotham City would never be my home.

[sliebman10]

Restaurant AU

Places set? Check.

Chairs straight? Check.

“Half hour till open,” was called. 

“Yes, chef!” Came the response.

Tonight’s opening went off without a hitch, Remus thought as he surveyed the line chefs working methodically and his sous chef, keeping everyone honest. 

He liked his kitchen running like a well oiled machine. That meant he did his job, that he could take in the rewards he worked so hard for.

But then…

“Remus? Remus!” Dorcas exclaimed. As the front of house manager, Dorcas was usually as unruffled as they come. Not so now as she rushed toward him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, failing to hide his surprise. 

“Critic. Table seven,” she murmured, so that the line chefs couldn’t hear. 

“Oh shit,” Remus said. “Well, we’ve got our best foot forward tonight. Do you know who it is?”

“That’s the other thing…” Dorcas said and gestured.

Sitting alone at a two top was a figure Remus would recognize anywhere. His mouth went dry as he took in the handsome, aristocratic features, the long hair. Of course his ex would grace them with his presence so soon after opening.

Remus squared his shoulders and willed there not to be any stains on his chef whites. He strode over to the table where his ex boyfriend and well respected food critic Sirius Black sat.

“Good evening,” he said. 

Sirius looked up from the menu and smiled. “Good to see you, chef,” he said softly, extending his hand. Remus took it and shook, memories of dark apartments and home cooked meals, drinks on the roof and found family dinners all came surging back.

“Welcome to Maison du Loup,” Remus said, as if his insides hadn’t suddenly shrunk.

Sirius let go of his hand and gestured toward the menu. “What do you recommend?”

Word Count: 297

@wolfstarmicrofic

[lycanlupins]

Scent Headcanons PT. 1 (ft. @darthwheezely ) - X-Men

AN: here’s part 1 of ??? on the X-Men Scentcanons featuring my bestie Phia who helped me pick the fragrances for these guys!! don’t worry, i didn’t forget anyone, im just breaking up the posts so i can have them more easily accessible!

kurt wagner: he smells like incense. like morning mass at a catholic church, smokey but not suffocating. conversely he would smell sweet and inviting, like fresh spun cotton candy and sepia stained memories of circus performances past.

fragrance: myrrh and tonka - jo malone; interlude - amouage

remy lebeau: wet moss. thick, warm, humid. not in a nasty way, just earthy. conversely he would smell like powdered sugar and king cake, maybe a hint of bourbon to wash it all down.

fragrance: by the fireplace - maison margiela; black phantom - killian

scott summers: he smells exactly like his namesake; a summer day. fresh cut grass, clean air, the warmth on your skin and a slight hint of sweat. he smells like the nighttime firework display on a beach with waves crashing in the dark.

fragrance: hero - burberry; sedley - parfum de marly

erik lehnsherr: he smells like rain against a cold, foggy window and a cup of black tea in your lap. like the pages of an old book whose spine has cracked from use and its cover is frayed at the edges.

fragrance: santal 33 - le labo; bibliotheque - byredo

anna-marie lebeau: she smells like spring. crisp honeysuckle and morning dew, waking up to the sun flooding your room with soft morning light and the light breeze through your hair on a mid-day picnic.

fragrance: nectarine blossom and honey - jo malone; sundazed - byredo

[manic-maniac-man]

HUgE Jan 2011

FLYMYJEAN (pt.2 finale)

Denim always reflects the wearer’s style. Whether you want to look tough and manly or elegant, get the best denim to define your style!

MAISON MARTIN MARGIELA

This season's theme is old black and white photography

The irregular grey melange created by pleating represents this abstract image. ¥49,350 Maison Martin Margiela, Tokyo

BALMAIN Homme

The classic biker pants have a refined, elegant design that is more sophisticated than their original hard look. They are perfect for a sophisticated outfit.

¥147,000 (Edition Omotesando Hills store)

DIESEL BLACK GOLD

We spent a lot of time and effort on hand-crafted techniques such as stone washing, scratching, and applation to create a more realistic texture.

¥40,950 (Diesel Japan)

THOM BROWNE

The first denim collection from Thom Browne. Check out the tricolor tab on the back yoke and the tag on the left leg, which are typical of Thom Browne. ¥36,750 (Steady Study)

GARETH PUGH

A bold design made from denim patchwork. The stoic nature of the design omits pockets and functionality.

It's very clean and original. ¥72,450 (International Gallery Beams)

HYSTERIC GLAMOUR

The torn parts of the denim are remade by patching them with sweatshirts featuring original prints. The design combines hard and pop styles for a playful feel.

¥48,300 (Hysteric Glamour)

kolor

The vintage processing gives it a realistic look that feels just right. The versatile straight silhouette can be casually rolled up for a (kolor)-like look. ¥32,550 (MORERIDE)

Old Joe

The item is made of four different fabrics and has been patchwork repaired in three stages. The natural fading and dirtiness of the hand-made finish makes it hard to believe it is brand new. ¥57,750 (Blackflag)

LAD MUSICIAN

Made from indigo denim dyed in a deep color using natural indigo from India. The unique cut 3D shape gives it a slim fit yet comfortable feel.

¥21,000 (LAD MUSICIAN DAIKANYAMA)

Waste(twice)

The fabric was processed based on vintage items actually worn by workers, in pursuit of realism. Don't miss the single-needle stitching, a feature of the early 1900s. ¥37,800 (JAM)

UNDERCOVERISM

The three-dimensional cut allows smooth knee movement even with a tight fit. The darts that look like slits are a distinctive detail for this season.

¥42,000 (UNDERCOVERISM)

Levi's® Left handed Jean by Takahiro Kuraishi

Based on a left-handed design, this season the pockets have been redesigned to make them easier for right-handed people to use as well.

¥19,950 (Levi Strauss Japan)

SASQUATCHfabrix. Chilling

The corduroy switching at the knees is the highlight.

The same material is used to create a jacket with elbow panels, so you can wear it as a set.

¥24,150 (Nepenthes Tokyo)

MIHARAYASUHIRO

Corduroy, leather, and more

Repairs were made using various fabrics used in this collection.

Several types of dirt have also been added to give it a richer look.

¥56,700 (Miharayasuhiro Tokyo)

A.P.C.

It features a natural texture that has been worn for many years. The repair stitching that matches the fading of the denim, the ink stains on the pockets, and other fine details are also attractive. ¥29,400 (A.P.C. Customer Service)

Levi's®× WACKO MARIA

A dream collaboration with Levi's® has come true. The silhouette is an original (Wacko Maria) design, with a special edition patch with "GUILTYPARTIES" engraved on it. ¥33,600 (Blackflag)

N.HOOLYWOOD

Bush pants in collaboration with <Lee>. The flared silhouette is reminiscent of the 70s hippie movement, and the retro faded color is also nice. ¥28,350 (Mister Hollywood)

ATTACHMENT

The classic slim straight style features curved lines that follow the shape of your foot. The exquisite cushioning that is created naturally when worn is the secret to its longevity.

¥26,250 (ATTACHMENT Daikanyama main store)

[o-sn4pple]

i hope i speak for many when i say we *are* here for the furina fic

oh cool, here's the 4th chapter. i'd recommend going for the 5th and 6th chapter on ao3 here.

“How dare you act as if everything you’d done was justified!”

“Act? Act? I was justified! That bastard dared laid a hand on my brother-”

“Your brother was nothing more than a disgusting pedophile. He deserved to be put down-”

“He served his sentence in the Fortress of Meropiede, stayed well away from the city and any other human and continued his work in solitude. You were the one that encouraged your husband to go kill him. I was only returning the favor!”

Furina nearly giggles as the verbal confrontation continues, settling for kicking her feet so as to not drown out their arguments. A case in which a convicted pedophile is murdered by a high-ranking Maison Gardiennage before turning the gun on himself, upheld only by their surviving spouses. In cases like these, where both sides of the scale are stained with mud, she often finds herself perfectly content with whatever outcome Neuvillette decides. Even though it isn’t dramatic enough to save Fontaine from disaster, it does make for excellent drama.

At least, she assumes as much. When she glances at you, she finds your jaw wired tight, shoulders stiff and poised. Every part of you looks ready to escape the Opera Epiclese; she can only assume that her presence is keeping you trapped here. 

It’s a first, and it’s enough for Furina to scoff, roll her eyes, and shout, “UGH! ENOUGH ALREADY!” Her voice thunders around the chamber, silencing the defendant and prosecutor at once. In his throne, Neuvillette opens his mouth to scold, but she is already springing out of her chair. “I’ve seen these trials a thousand times already. No matter what the verdict is, a grudge will be born. How boring!” With a swish of her skirt, the Archon spins on her toes to you, who has already dutifully risen to your feet. “Come along, my dear equerry. This trial has served as a suitable bedtime story.”

“As you wish, Lady Furina.” 

The sudden transition from the warm, near stuffy heat of the Opera Epiclese to the chilled breeze in the courtyard makes Furina shiver, but she waltzes down the steps with determination while you keep pace. With everyone still inside, only the rush of the surrounding waterfalls breaks the silence. It is when you join her at the base of the Fountain of Lucine do you finally clear your throat. 

“Was that trial truly so boring, Lady Furina?” you ask. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” 

Furina scoffs and waves a hand before returning to rubbing her arms. “What enjoyment you must have seen was my anger. All that back-and-forth, spitting the same vitriol and baseless accusations? How trivial.” Her teeth are beginning to chatter, and she takes a deep, cold breath before huffing, “And you looked ready to explode if you sat there a moment longer.” Her cheeks warm from the admittance, but she puffs up further to glare at you. “You should be thanking me, really.” 

You lift a brow, but that familiar, one-sided little smile finally breaks across your face, and you dramatically bow to her. “Ah, yes. Forgive me for not thanking you sooner, my Archon. How may I better express my gratitude?”

Furina rolls her eyes, but she still holds out her hand. “Your coat?” 

Your scent envelops her, your warmth a blissful shield from the cold as you wrap the coat around her shoulders. Though you wear another long-sleeve underneath, Furina opts to hurry you along to the station under the excuse of truly being tired. It is still blissfully empty due to the trial, and as the Melusine activates the rudders, you sit to the Archon’s left, just far enough for her to mourn the distance. She wonders if she can risk scooting into your side, but when she eyes your face, she finds you staring into the distance. 

“That trial must have really gotten to you, huh,” she finds herself saying. Apparently, she doesn’t say it soft enough, because you look at her in surprise. She flushes. “I-I just mean, it’s quite rare to see you so unsettled.”

You nod slowly and…well, Furina braces herself for some form of witty retort. The fact that you just return to staring makes her check the sky for thunder. 

The skies are clear. The world must not be ending just yet. 

Furina sits up and settles into her more authoritative tone. “Then it is only natural that I, Furina de Fontaine, offer an ear to soothe your worries. Tell me, my dear equerry, what is troubling you so?” 

Your lips twitch, the faintest hint of a smile gracing your face as you chuckle. “It truly is nothing, my lady. I am just exhausted from having to sit through such a terrible trial.”

Ah. She recognizes that tone. Unfortunately, you have no physical injuries that she can force you into looking after, nor does it feel right to pry for information when there is another stranger present, even if it is only a Melusine. Perhaps if a door had been in the way, just like before when you had come to check on her…Furina purses her lips and harrumps. She really should consider that offer to build a confessional in the Palais Mermonia. Maybe then you’d finally feel okay with expressing your worries. 

Still, she has learned one weakness of yours, and with you so distracted, Furina scuttles close to your side and sets a hand in your hair. You tense for only a second. As she begins to fuss with your hair, you sink into her palm and allow better access to your head. 

After you are dismissed for the night, though, Furina’s mind returns to the earlier trial. It will take some time for a report to be processed by the clerks, but she doesn’t bother waiting. The second Neuvillette is in his office, she comes strolling right in with her head held high.

“Oh?” Neuvillette looks up from his papers with surprise. “Good morning, Lady Furina. I did not realize you could be up this early.”

Furina nearly trips over herself in her haste to glare at the Iudex. “I am perfectly capable of rising when the occasion calls for it!” Granted, the last time she had, she ended up promoting you to make up for the mess it caused. But that isn’t important! “I am here to ask you some questions about my precious equerry.”

Neuvillette blinks and slowly sets the paper aside. “Are you rescinding their promotion?”

“What? No!” Furina casually pushes aside the stack of paperwork as tall as your broadsword is wide and perches on his desk. “I was just curious about why you decided to hire them. I imagine such an important title demanded much effort to find a suitable candidate.”

Neuvillette’s expression barely changes as he picks the paper back up. “No, quite the opposite.”

Furina’s puffed chest deflates as she gawks at him. “W-What?” 

“They were the only candidate I had in mind when considering a personal bodyguard for you,” he continues casually, eyes flicking across his report. “Much of the effort came from processing the correct paperwork.” 

…huh? You were the only candidate? She knows you had quite the reputation garnered by your fearsome strength, but had that been enough to catch Neuvillette’s attention? Surely not. There had to be more than that. When she asks as much, Neuvillette just looks up through his lashes and sighs.

“There is, but considering the time,” he says while setting his report atop of the mountain of papers to Furina’s right, “I doubt I will be able to provide you the attention you desire. Would their profile suffice?”

Your profile? Furina bites her tongues in hopes of stopping her flush. Of course! How could she forget? As Archon, she has direct access to all sorts of private information, and those who work directly for the Fontainian government waive their right to privacy the day they start working. 

“Tch, of course I know that,” she huffs as Neuvillette hunts down your records in his shelves. “I was hoping you’d indulge me with your company. You’ve been so busy!”

“And you have your equerry for this reason.” Neuvillette sets an oddly thin folder beside Furina before scooping up the stack of papers next. “Leave the folder on my desk when you are done. I will put it away when I return.”

Now alone in his office, Furina takes a shaky, grounding breath. Your name is scrawled in dried ink on the tab, fanciful curls and sharp lines. Neuvillette must have noted it himself. She is greeted with a basic profile when she opens the file: name, age, date of birth, and current occupation. Medical and mental history demark no outstanding concerns, and your service to Fontaine is met with glowing reviews. 

Then she reaches your family history and finds a single line that repeats over and over in her head. 

‘ Trained by Vautrin and Carole, referred to as Master and Sister. ’ That’s it. No mention of a mother or father. 

Still, she knows those names. How could she not? The former Captain of the Special Security and Surveillance Patrol who murdered five Fontanian elites after they had driven the Medal of Honor recipient Melusine to suicide to repent for a crime she did not commit. It’d been an exhilarating trial that brought tears to her eyes when Vautrin had screamed and cursed Neuvillette for his impartiality. 

She didn’t bother to look any deeper into it once the verdict had passed. She didn’t feel the need to back then. Now, she has the student of Vautrin and Carole as her equerry and feels guilt bubble in her throat. How terrible must that feel, to attend to the every need of the Archon that represents the system that took away your only Master and Sister?

No wonder you had felt so uncomfortable during last night’s trial. Two sides of the scale are stained with blood, just like before. 

Furina’s fingers curl, curiosity staining her thoughts like ink dropped in water. This specific folder had been Neuvillette’s personal report on you for the onboarding process, but there was bound to be more elsewhere in the Palais Mermonia about your family, especially if you’re an orphan. Granted, the foster care system isn’t…perfect, but part of onboarding included a complete background check, family history included. Why wouldn’t Neuvillette include that in this file? 

Though…why should it matter? She understands now why you’d been so upset over the case. She has no excuse to pry any deeper. 

And yet she finds herself strutting back into the office, poking her head behind the front desk. The fresh-faced Melusine that Neuvillette had hired to man the front is already working away, reorganizing the desk the last clerk had ruined in protest of being ‘replaced’. Furina doesn’t actually remember her name, but she is as sweet and caring as any other Melusine, so Furina feels no fear when she hands over the proper form to request a person’s family records. 

The Melusine just cocks her head and says, “My apologies, Lady Furina, but those are classified.”

“Aha.” Furina’s smile twitches. “Excuse me?” 

“Classified.” The Melusine slips the form back to her with a grimace. “It is very sensitive information, so if you truly need to view it, it may be best to ask him directly.”

“Ask who what?” 

Furina denies yelping when you speak up from the opposite side of the counter, but she does whirl around too quickly to look anything other than suspicious. “I-Hah-Wha-What are you doing here so early?!”

“I…believe I should be asking you that question, my lady. I am normally here to prepare breakfast,” you say, brow lifting. “I assume you are getting a headstart on today’s tasks?” 

Very unlike you, Furina mentally finishes for you. She smoothes out her uniform and lifts her head. “There are times where even I must lend myself to my people, no? Besides, I was only looking for some files.” 

You hum and walk around the desk. “Then return to your room, my lady. I will fetch whatever you need.”

Furina flushes, grabbing your wrist just as you pick up the request form. “W-Wait-” 

Her protest goes unheard. Your face goes unnaturally blank as the Melusine says, “Worry not, sister.” She reaches over to pat your hand. “I have already told Lady Furina that they are classified.”

Furina stares at your face, pulse climbing the longer you remain silent. Frantically, her mind begins to prattle off excuses: she is the Archon, she is your boss, she has every right to know your secrets! In the other, broken, fragmented mind that hides in the darkness of her bedroom, she begs for forgiveness: she just wanted to help, she wants to know you, she wants what she can never reciprocate. How selfish. How selfish!

Your silence finally breaks with a soft sigh, eyes falling shut. When they open, you look as calm and composed as you always do, nodding to the Melusine. “Thank you, Sedene, I appreciate that. I will continue preparations for breakfast, then.” You squeeze Furina’s hand and pry it from your wrist, then nod once more. “Please excuse me.” 

It is the most polite Furina has ever heard you, and as you disappear up the lift to her floor, her vision begins to blur.

“L-Lady Furina?” Sedene gasps. “You’re crying!” 

Furina blinks through her tears, finger numb as she brushes it away. “Ah, n-no, no. My body must be reacting to a truly dreadful prayer at the Fountain of Lucine. Someone must be in…terrible pain.” 

Sedene tutts and grabs the request for your family documents, crumpling it in her palms. “How awful.”

Yes, Furina thinks as she chases after you. How awful indeed.

[satoshi-mochida]

Bushiroad Games and Frontwing announce visual novel Perennial Dusk: Kinsenka for PC - Gematsu

Publisher Bushiroad Games and developer Frontwing have announced visual novel Perennial Dusk: Kinsenka for PC. It will launch in 2025 with English, Japanese, and Simplified Chinese language support.

Here is an overview of the game, via its official website:

About

Industry veteran Yukito Urushibara and prolific illustrator Saine join forces for the first time to craft a stunning tale about a group of young people in an eerie world of endless twilight. Follow their story as they struggle against limitless cruelty and confront the inescapable traumas of life and death together. Perennial Dusk: Kinsenka is the latest visual novel written by Yukito Urushibara, whose work on Irotoridori no Sekai and Sakura Moyu captivated players with stories that inspire hope as readily as they induce despair. The cast of colorful-yet-broken characters is brought to life by Saine, whose experience as the illustrator of various Vocaloid music videos (“mikitoP “Kunoichi demo Koi ga shitai”) and as a VTuber designer (“Kamishiro Kurea,” “Watagashi Unou,” “Hoshikage Lapis,” and “Kozuya Nano” among others) lets the delicate twilight world bloom with a resplendent touch.

Story

The human heart is but a vessel for pain. That’s what someone once whispered-a voice laced with loneliness, whispering directly into the soul. It’s an indescribable sadness, a love just beginning to bloom. It becomes an invisible pain that pierces the heart. And that’s what makes up life: a cyclical series of highs and lows. Tachibana Sai was born without the ability to feel pain in his heart. He spends his days eliminating any seeds of malice that sneak up on his sister, the one person he treasures, without drawing attention to himself. Sick of the never ending monotony he lives through, he chances upon a meeting with Benio Matsuri, a young girl whose aloof demeanor resembles that of a beautifully crafted doll. For the first time in his life, he encounters a heart piercing sensation that of falling in love. On the edge between day and night, in a twilight world where the dead and living mingle, stands an apartment building called Maison sans Nom, which is home to a group of boys and girls. A ruthless boy who knows no pain in his heart. A lonely girl without any friends. A friendly girl who struggles to make connections. A prickly, ambitious girl who is keen to be of help. A boy who loves his own cute self above anything else. A mess of a woman who tries to solve everything through brute force. And a boy with a tender heart who knows no pain in his body. This ill-assorted group of residents, hands stained with blood from battling the supernatural Maledicts, shall encounter the hearts they never knew and begin nurturing their souls. The human heart is but a vessel for pain. To protect this pain akin to love… To gently break the world apart, piece by piece… Even if it means abandoning humanity. That’s why the heart is but a vessel for pain. For life blazes brilliantly, while the heart goes around in an endless cycle.

Characters

Benio Matsuri (voiced by Manaka Iwami) – A girl born into the Benio Family, a powerful family of Maledict Exorcists, who is tightly bound by her family’s curse. Due to an incident in the past, causing her to close off her heart, she doesn’t speak and barely shows any emotion. Her eyes remain closed at all times, as if she wishes to isolate herself from the cruel world she lives in. Since she only moves when someone pulls her along by the hand, her demeanor evokes the image of a beautifully crafted doll. She is a Curse Bearer with the ability to give Maledicts form and use their powers freely.

Nobody (voiced by Manaka Iwami) – Another personality that dwells inside Benio Matsuri’s heart that appears when Matsuri is asleep. Nobody sees herself as a shield that protects Matsuri from the cruel world. She can be incredibly selfish, and her words, actions, and strong attitude cause her to come across as a haughty, ill-mannered girl.

Tachibana Sai (voiced by Yumiri Hanamori) – The protagonist of the story: A ruthless boy who cannot feel pain in his heart. His younger sister, his only family, is the one person he treasures, and anyone who torments her is met with a brutal end by his hands… Yet, yearning to understand the human heart, he often interrogates his victims, even though they cannot respond. Just as he begins to seek respite from his bleak life, his unexpected encounter with Benio Matsuri causes him to experience a kind of pain akin to love in his heart.

Kanbara Tatsuki (voiced by Shuta Morishima) – An earnest and sincere boy who was born with a body that doesn’t feel any physical pain. Despite the unjust world around him, he wishes to keep on the straight and narrow, even if no one else does. He began training at a young age under a master who claimed to be invincible in order to become… well, a certain something. He has infiltrated the Benio Family and is biding his time for the chance to free Benio Matsuri, his first love, from their curse.

Tsukahara Ao (voiced by Hitomi Sasaki) – A seemingly cheerful and sociable resident of Maison sans Nom. She’s especially close with her friend Ando Mémé. Born as a Curse Bearer, she works as one of the Benio Family’s mercenaries and exorcists. On top of her mischievous tendencies, she wants more than anything to be a housewife. Her cooking might not be up to par now, but she’s working on it.

Ando Meme (voiced by Hika Tsukishiro) – A surly resident of Maison sans Nom and a Curse Bearer like Ao. Despite her ambitious and hard-working nature, she tends to scare people off due to her prickly attitude. However, she is keener than anyone when it comes to helping her friends, and Ao is especially reliant on her companionship. Her goal in life is to rake in the money as a top-grade exorcist.

Kirishima Tsuyu (voiced by Yukina Shuto) – The landlord of Maison sans Nom. Tsuyu is obsessed with his own cuteness and habitually declares himself the cutest person in the world. He enjoys teasing the other residents, and while they get annoyed with Tsuyu’s antics sometimes, they still adore him. He often earns himself a spanking from Yozora. He is also a content creator who makes full use of his looks while livestreaming as “Chuyu.” He has a preference for strong-willed people and takes a particular liking to Tatsuki in this regard. A Curse Bearer like Ao and Mémé, he possesses a mysterious power.

Kandori Yozora (voiced by Hana Kuga) – As the only grown-up resident of Maison sans Nom, Yozora acts as the guardian of the younger residents. She appears to be a beautiful, classy lady… until she opens her mouth. With her frank and outspoken attitude, as well as her tendency to drink cheap booze, gamble on horses, and “borrow” money from the kids without ever returning it, she’s not exactly what one would consider a responsible adult. Yozora does not possess any Maledict powers, but she prides herself on being the strongest martial artist in the world.

Benio Tsui (voiced by Takako Tanaka) – The current head of the Benio Family and Matsuri’s younger sister. Contrary to her appearance as a young girl, she considers herself the matriarch of the family, referring to all its members as her “children,” regardless of blood relations. Inside her heart dwells three different personalities, each with their own quirks and caprices. All are cold, cruel, and ruthless by nature, although she sometimes displays a child-like innocence befitting her age.

Penguin (voiced by Reika Fujisawa) – A mysterious, smartly dressed penguin with the ability to understand and speak human language. However, it is painfully shy, so normally it pretends to be just a regular penguin. It works as a receptionist and bellhop at a hotel where the souls of the dead end up, so the younger residents of Maison sans Nom refer to it as “God.” It has a huge attitude for a cute little penguin and is extremely hard to please. The best way to buy its favor is with sweets and snacks.

…and others!

Main Staff

Planning / Story: Yukito Urushibara

Character Design / Art: Saine

Developer: Frontwing

Background Music: Fuminori Matsumoto, Hitoshi Fujima (Elements Garden)

Theme Song

Title: “Anata no Kioku no Naka de” (“In Your Memories”)

Vocals: Mao Uesugi

Lyrics: Yoshikazu Kuwashima

Composition and Arrangement: Hitoshi Fujima (Elements Garden)

Watch the announcement trailer below.

Announce Trailer

[empirearchives]

[MANUSCRIPT.— JUNOT (Jean Andoche)] Set of handwritten poems and pieces, presented to General Junot.

[July 1800-March 1802]

In-8 (20.4 x 15.2 cm), red long-grained morocco leather, gilded Greek frieze framing the covers, super ex-libris on the front cover, smooth spine decorated with gilded motifs (period binding).

[31] pages, first blank

Collection of 21 pieces calligraphed in small, legible handwriting by the same hand, except for the last one by another hand.

There are verses entitled “Bardin, aide de camp, à son général”, “Couplets chantés à l'inauguration de la maison du Génal Junot”, “À l'occasion du mariage du Général Junot”...

Top cover gilt-lettered “le général de division Junot”.

Black ink stain on lower cover, rare marks, last page a little creased.

Source: Artcurial — Historical Memories - 24 january 2024

[happi-tree]

head in my hands (<- she is thinking about the dreamcatcher dystopia and apocalypse trilogies)

with dystopia it's like. (scream) the world is so full of hatred and vitriol and every time i am reminded of it, it seeps further and further into my veins and i'm worried it may consume me. the witch hunts are constant and ever worsening, and all that ever comes from them is more contempt and more regret. what is this poisonous masquerade all for. does anyone else hear this, i'm calling out to you, i'm begging for relief and for catharsis. i need this to reach you, i need you to hear the cries of the people who are suffering. i'm shouting alongside them. (boca) do you speak to your mother with that mouth. would she be proud of the things that you're saying. look around you - the angels are dying and the casualties grow with every spiteful word. sometimes kindness starts with silence when all you want is to fight fire with fire. my heart is pierced for you again and again, and i don't know how much longer it can be like this. i want to help you, i want to let you breathe again and give you relief from the harsh words that have strangled your lungs. i want to make this world better, and i want it to start with us. (odd eye) the world is broken, this is not a fairytale. utopia has never existed and it never will. do not believe the sugarcoated lie of perfection because it is impossible to grasp. the world is dark and you will not find what you're looking for if eternal peace is what you seek. open your eyes to reality, and you will make it a better place - not by dreaming, but by doing what you can.

and then with apocalypse it's like. (maison) our home is dying, our planet is dying, our people are dying, but i feel so detached from it all. i need to come down to earth, i need to keep pushing for change in every way that matters. your conscience is drying faster than the droughts plaguing our land, don't you see that we need to do something about this. please someone fight for us - the task is enormous and the stakes are daunting, and i'm coming down to rescue you but i can't do it alone. you have to help save yourself. (vision) the world is a scorched-earth battlefield and we are its foot-soldiers. we must press on and fight now that we've come this far. everything is painted in shades of moral gray, but we must act decisively. i am reaching for your hand in the trenches, i am sending a message to you, i am giving you a vision. do you copy, have you clasped my soot-stained hand. the work is hard, but we must reload and keep going. join us and fight alongside us. i am not asking, i am not begging - there is no time for either. ([reason] i am with you always, in war and peace, in hatred and in love. you are why i fight. i have spent years being beaten down, and you have, too, but it is your companionship that buoys me, brightens my darkness, makes this world worth it all. you are my reason. don't let me stop fighting.) (bon voyage) we have fought the good fight together, my friend. the war wages onward, but our assignments have changed, and we must part ways. i will carry every lesson you have taught me within me. the battlefield lies fallow until the footprints recede. the flowers are starting to bloom again and the colors are coming into focus. a part of me will always be drawn to you even as i leave you, even when you are long gone. travel well, my friend. may our battles not be in vain and may we both find rest. i hope i will see your face in peacetime.