#mid century glass coffee table

[zegalba]

Knut Hesterberg for Ronald Schmitt Aluminum "Propeller" Coffee Table (1963)

[youmakemelikecharity]

Living Room - Open

Inspiration for remodeling a mid-sized contemporary formal living room with a brown floor and a limestone floor, white walls, a regular fireplace, no TV, and a tile fireplace.

[deejay-the-first]

Living Room Open in San Francisco Example of a mid-sized mid-century modern formal and open concept dark wood floor and brown floor living room design with gray walls, a hanging fireplace, a metal fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[vampiricallyxspeaking]

Compact in Toronto Sunroom - small modern carpeted and brown floor sunroom idea with a standard ceiling

[daisy-source]

Open - Family Room

[dearstvckyx]

───────────────────────

Bucky Barnes x Clumsy!Roommate

───────────────────────

Imagine moving in with Bucky Barnes, and he quickly realizes you might just be the clumsiest person he’s ever met…

───────────────────────

It all started the day Bucky moved in with his new roommate, you. At first, he’d thought you were just a little absent-minded, but after the fifth (maybe sixth?) time he watched you trip over your own two feet while carrying a bowl of cereal, he started to catch on. You were the clumsiest person he’d ever met. And for Bucky Barnes, who’s lived nearly a century, that’s saying something.

You’re reading a recipe on your phone in the kitchen, brow furrowed, when Bucky feels that familiar prickle at the back of his neck. He doesn’t even have to look up from his book to know what’s about to happen.

“Hey, don’t turn around too fast,” he says without looking up.

“What do you mean—” And before you can finish, you knock your elbow into the spice rack, sending an avalanche of glass bottles toward the floor.

Somehow, Bucky is already there, catching the bottles before they shatter everywhere. You blink at him, wide-eyed. “How…?”

Bucky smirks. “Spider-sense.”

It becomes a bit of a running joke. Every time you drop a knife, trip over a cable, or nearly knock a pan off the stove, Bucky’s there. Like magic, he’s always just in the right spot to keep you from taking yourself out. He even starts calling you “Disaster Darling” under his breath.

One morning, you’re reaching for the top shelf, and he calls from the other room, “Don’t even think about it.” Sure enough, you wobble on tiptoes, but before you tip over, he’s there with a hand on your waist, steadying you.

“You always know, don’t you?” you ask, half-laughing, half-amazed.

“Darlin’, at this point, I’ve got your schedule memorized. 8 AM: trip over your own feet. Noon: almost set something on fire in the kitchen. 3 PM: stub your toe on the coffee table.”

You give him a playful shove. “That’s ridiculous!”

He shrugs, grinning. “Hey, don’t blame me if I know my roommate a little too well.”

He tries to act cool, but secretly? He loves being there to catch you every time. It makes him feel like he’s part of something normal, something real. And maybe one day, when he catches you for the hundredth time, his hand steady on your waist, he’ll let his fingers linger just a little longer. Maybe he’ll pull you close, just close enough for you to feel his heartbeat racing.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll realize that being your safety net was the best fall he ever took.

───────────────────────

Incident 1

You: reaches for something on the top shelf

Bucky: without even looking up “Careful.”

You: pauses mid-reach “I’m fine, Bucky. I’ve totally got this!”

Bucky: gets up and walks behind you, steadying you “You said that last time, and then I had to catch you and the spices before they seasoned our floor.”

───────────────────────

Incident 2

You’re in the kitchen, trying to make pancakes.

Bucky: walking in with a sigh “Alright, what’s burning?”

You: quickly turns “Nothing! I swear!”

Bucky: smirks, watching you almost drop the spatula from the freight of him coming into the kitchen “Sure, sure. Disaster Darling strikes again.”

You: “I am not that clumsy!”

Bucky: “Right, last week you didn’t trip over your own feet getting off the couch?”

You: mumbling “…that was different.”

Bucky: crosses his arms, laughing softly “Uh-huh.”

───────────────────────

Incident 3

One day, you’re reaching for something in the cabinet again.

Bucky: from the other room “Don’t even think about it!”

You: “How did you…?”

Bucky: appears in the doorway with that knowing smirk “I just know.”

It goes on like this. Every time you trip, stumble, or knock something over, he’s there. Sometimes he doesn’t even need to look. It’s like he has his own personal “you’re about to do something clumsy” radar. Sort of like a spider sense but a Bucky sense.

───────────────────────

Bonus

There’s this one time you almost fall off a ladder trying to hang up a picture.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, Bucky’s caught you by the waist, holding you steady. And maybe he’s holding you a little longer than he should, but you don’t seem to mind, leaning back with that flustered little smile.

Bucky: clears his throat, looking away “Try not to fall so much, alright?”

You: softly laugh “Guess I’m lucky I have you.”

And in that moment Bucky realizes he loves your clumsiness, he loves protecting you…

[billielolly]

Sims 3 Build - Cheerful Cottage

A cosy and vibrant cottage, perfect for a sim starting their new life. 1 bedroom and 1 bathroom on a 20x20 lot.

Watch the speed build: https://youtu.be/-Kc9YLWA6t0

Download here:

Patreon (free): https://www.patreon.com/posts/111265861/

Exchange: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9605511

Expansion packs:

Ambitions

University Life

Stuff packs:

None

Store content:

None

Custom content:

heaven - Pewter Slate Roof with White Trim

PralineSims - P-Glass Tiles III

ArtVitalex - Mayorka Ceiling Spot Lamp

Mutske - Kitchen Aria Cookerhood

Kerrigan House Designs - Autumnfell Bench

Lulu265 - Eclectic Living Room Coffee Table

PralineSims - Big Flokati III

PralineSims - Sheep Carpet IV

ArtVitalex - Glen Bedroom (Bed, Mirror)

johziii - Irene Bedroom (Nightstand, Lamp):

Martassimsbook - Lorelea Abstract Paintings:

Lulu265 - Bedford Bedroom Wall Art

Julietsimscc - Dolce Vita Paintings (Medium Frame)

Martassimsbook - Pinkboxdesign Kitchen Clutter Set (Utensils, Dishsoap)

ATS3 - Square Canisters

ATS3 - Kitchen Herbs (Basil, Mint)

ArtVitalex - Rowlett Hallway Extra (Key Bowl, Umbrella Holder)

Martassimsbook - cmdesigns Anemone Bathroom Set Candle

NynaeveDesign - Lyne Curtains (Curtains 1x1 Left, Curtains 1x1 Right, Curtains 2x1)

Martassimsbook - Cowbuild Dahlia and Delpinium Vases

Martassimsbook - Ars-botanica Cup of Pansies

ATS3 - Toothbrush #2

Mutske - Toiletroom Aria Toilet Paperholder

Onyxium - Kearny Bathroom Accessories (Soap Dispenser, Reed Diffuser)

Martassimsbook - Cowbuild My Home Set Potted Cordyline Palm

Martassimsbook - novvvas Mid Century Modern Living Room (Books 2, Succulent 3)

Martassimsbook - novvvas Planties pt3 (Ficus Elastica, Monstera Deliciosa)

bioniczombie - Lug Trio

Onyxium - Troia Living Room (Bergere, Sofa Double)

ArtVitalex - Juniper End Table

Martassimsbook - novvvas Rahat Set Ficus

Martassimsbook - Aira Daisy Set (Acrylic Vase A, Acrylic Vase Flowers)

ArtVitalex - Fullerton Toilet Brush

Catharsim - Syboulette Hortensia Beech Tree

Martassimsbook - Ravasheen Hang Around Closet Set P1 Shelves

Martassimsbook - Ravasheen Hang Around Closet Set P2 (Dress Belt, Summer Dress, Tunic, Long Sleeve Dress, Shorts, Sweater)

Martassimsbook - Ravasheen Hang Around Closet Set P3 (Floppy Hat, Ivy Cap, Fedora, Sunglasses)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Small glass house. No. Just, no. 2011 glass house in Lakeport, CA. 1bd, 1ba, $1.25M. Once again, NO. Also, the property is off-grid and powered by "highly efficient roof mounted solar panels with a separate battery bank and propane generator for reliable power."

For the price, you would think that they had electric shades or blinds.

But, they just have big, bulky gray draperies that you pull yourself.

The small kitchen looks mid-century modern, considering it was built in 2011.

The dining area.

Hmmm. The ceiling is metal.

There's also a table for two out on the deck.

Couch and coffee table facing the window.

Right next to the bedroom. Looks like the walls are glass, also.

I guess the home is minimalist, b/c all your stuff would be visible.

View from the bed.

Shower, toilet peeking out. I thought that it would be more enclosed.

The tub is outside.

I guess the Buddha's included.

Also, on the property is a metal building.

It's a guest house but the owner uses it as an office and home gym.

It has a nice bath.

And, a sauna.

Lamps bounce off the glass walls at night.

Lots of land- 64.54 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/3312-Benmore-Valley-Rd-Lakeport-CA-95453/201509479_zpid/

[thetourguidebarbie]

oh my, love is a lie

for @the-road-betwixt. happy birthday. i did some recon on your favorite tropes and i hope i hit close :)

--

"Love is a lie," Caroline declared, throwing back a glass of $418 zinfandel like a shot of tequila and slumping back on the couch in Kol's exquisitely decorated mid-century modern condo. "There's no such thing as soulmates. If I can’t find mine after over a thousand years of trainwreck relationships, it's fake."

"Cheers to that, darling," Kol said, waving his own glass in the air.

"You're so lucky you're not half-wolf," Caroline grumbled.

"Love can be a lie for me too, now. Don't be racist."

"Okay, yeah, but you don't start every relationship knowing that it's probably not right and that your soulmate could interrupt at any time and completely nuke it, so what's the point of even trying."

"I ruin things just fine on my own, it's true," Kol allowed. "But I think you're being a bit fatalistic."

Caroline huffed, propping her bare feet on the coffee table and idly wondering whether painting her toenails a mopier shade would be warranted. Pale grey, the color of the dead corpse of her love life, perhaps?  "The concept of soulmates is by definition fatalistic, Kol. And that's what post breakup wine nights are for. Fatalism, derogatory!"

"You'll find him," Kol insisted, in a rare moment of genuine emotional support. "You have forever, after all."

"Yeah, I do! What if he's already dead? What if I missed him?" Caroline asked, now drunk enough to give voice to the fears that she usually kept compartmentalized in the most out-of-the-way part of her mind. "What if I didn't find him in time and now I'll never have anyone?"

"Ah, we've had enough to invite the entrance of sad-drunk Caroline. A pity."

"Shut up," Caroline whined. "You're not being very helpful."

"I like to think I've been an excellent support system," Kol said indignantly. "I've listened to you mope for centuries and haven't encouraged you to contact an ex-boyfriend once. Do you know how rare that is in this day and age? In the era of looking up your ex-husbands on linkedin because it's the only platform they've not blocked you on?"

"Well I don't have a linkedin or an ex-husband, so that wouldn't be very helpful," Caroline said, glancing at Kol, whose eyes were shifting guiltily. "What?"

"Sorry, darling," he said quickly, chugging some wine straight from the bottle.

"For what? It was a joke," Caroline said slowly, her eyes narrowing.

Kol was being. Weird.

So weird.

"But we've never talked about it," Kol said, avoiding her gaze. "Scrupulously avoided it, in fact."

"Avoided what?" Caroline asked, mystified. 

"I'd assumed it would make you upset."

"That what would make me upset?"

"Mentioning Nik."

Caroline blinked. "Who?"

Read the rest here.

[simstorian-blog]

Dusty Turf

(CC List + Links)

World Map: Oasis Springs

Area: Parched Prospect

Lot Size: 30 x 20

(3-bedroom, 2 Bathroom)

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Used

Cottage Living

Desert Luxe Kit

Dream Home Decorator

Eco Lifestyle

Get Famous

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

Island Living

Laundry Day Stuff

Outdoor Retreat

Spa Day

Wedding Stories

Build Mode

AnneSimmer – Wall Mural Pt. 1

Felixandre – London (Chandelier, Panelling)

Felixandre – Grove Pt. (Plaster Floor)

Harlix – Bafroom (Mirrors, Windows)

Harlix – Harluxe (Used Throughout)

Harlix – Orjanic Pt. 1 (Column)

Harlix – Tiny Twavellers (Mural Wall)

Harrie – Kwatei Pt. 1 (Doors, Windows)

Max20 – Polished Sandstone Trim

Peacemaker – Curly Koa Flooring

Peacemaker – Simple Siding

SimPlistic – Leafy Wallpaper

Sooky – Victorian Floor Tiles

Buy Mode

Anye – Cal Magazine

Anye – Neomy Table Lamp

Anye – Zara Bathrobe

Awingedllama – Apartment Therapy (Rug)

Awingedllama – Boho Living (Cement Planter)

Awingedllama – Blooming Plants

BlueTeas – Rivers Bedroom (Base, Headboard)

CharlyPancakes – Lavish (Shopping Bag)

ClutterCat – BusyBee Pt. 2 (FlatBox)

ClutterCat – Cozy Casita (Candle)

ClutterCat – Dandy Diary Pt.1  (Leather Tray)

ClutterCat – Dandy Diary Bathroom

Dereon – Silver Lining Stool (DL Available via Patreon)

Felixandre – Chateau Pt. 4 (Square Container)

Felixandre – Colonial Pt. 3 (Parasol)

Felixandre – Florence Pt. 3 (Luggage)

Felixandre – Florence Pt. 4

Felixandre – Grove Pt. 2 (Stacked Plates)

Felixandre – Paris Pt. 3 (Pouffe)

Felixandre – Shop The Look 1 (Side Table)

GreenLlamas – Kerv Inkblot Rug

Harlix – Baysic (Bedding, Hanging Clothes, Packs System)

Harlix – Baysic Bathroom (Toilet)

Harlix – Kichen (All glasses)

Harlix – Livin’ Rum (Tv, Bowl, Vase)

Harlix – Orjanic Pt. 2 (Vase)

Harrie – Octave Pt. 4 (Light Switch)

Joyce – Simple Live #5 (Separate Towel)

LeafMotif – House & Garden Covers

LittlBowBub – Home Barista

Littledica – Delicious Kitchen (Paper Towel)

Littledica – Rise & Grind (Flavour Syrup)

Madlen – Dionis Ottoman

MyCupofCC – ColourTalk (Mirror)

Myshunosun – Gale Dining (Cart, Wine Bottle, Wine Glass)

NoStyle – Mara Living Chair

Peacemaker – Ellipse Armchair

Peacemaker – Mid-Century Abode (Bedframe)

Peacemaker – Oasis Chic Living (Cordyline)

Pierisim – Domaine du Clos Pt. 2 (Account Book)

Pierisim – Domaine du Clos Pt. 4 (Zucchini Chopping Board)

Pierisim – Living Room Mini (Citrus Bowl)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 2 (Rug)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 3 (Metal Sconce, Soap)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 5 (Table Lamp)

Pierisim – Oak House Pt. 4 (Shower)

Pierisim – Vera Bathroom (Mounted Hook, Robes, Soap)

Ravasheen – Hot Sim Disguise Clutter (Tray)

RusticSims – Kind of Modular (Books, Coffee Table)

RusticSims – Lofi Pt. 1 (All Lighting)

Severinka – Aura Ottoman

Sundays – Duvet

Sundays – Kediri Pt. 1 + 2 (Sofa, Throw Pillows)

Sundays – Kuta Pt. 1 (Dining Table)

Sundays – Pandawa Pt. 3 (Pouf)

Sundays – Sumba Pt. 1 (Pillows)

Sundays – Swell Pt. 1 (Bolster Pillow)

Sundays – Ungasan Pt. 2 (Slippers)

Sundays – Yarra Pt. 3 (Bed Pillows)

Syboubou – Caroline Shower Rug

Tuds – Ind 02 (Wine Rack)

Winner9 – Malibu Pillow

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: Download

[deepdreamnights]

Spaced Out

Uhhh...

The image(s) above in this post were made using an autogenerated prompt and/or have not been modified/iterated extensively. As such, they do not meet the minimum expression threshold, and are in the public domain.

Prompt: A photograph of an elegant woman from the 1950s, with her hands in front showing a manicure and wearing pearl earrings. She is sitting at a table with one hand resting on it. The other arm has two small glass perfume bottles hanging off its wrist by their labels. Her hair is styled to appear romantic yet natural. She wears a black dress against a black background, with soft lighting, in the style of vintage-style portrait photography with a grainy film filter.:: The interior of the massive house features a spiral staircase with green carpet and wallpaper. The living room has a mid-century modern style, with white furniture and a green glass table lamp on the coffee table. The walls are white, and the living room has a green patterned wallpaper. The curtains are cream-colored, and the overall aesthetic is one of retrofuturism.:: A simple cartoon drawing of three stick figures, one lion, and two people standing next to each other on lined paper in the style of David Dennis. The person wearing glasses is sitting down, holding their head with both hands while looking at an angry man dressed as Zothof Mamenti, who has long hair tied back into braids, his eyes glowing red, and sharp teeth showing through thin lips. There should be no text or words in these doodles. They have been drawn by hand using a black ink pen --ar 3:4 --v 6.1

[blacksimarch]

Nestled in the heart of Del Sol Valley, this mid-century modern gem offers a seamless blend of sleek design and natural beauty. The home’s façade showcases clean lines and geometric shapes, with rich wooden accents that add warmth and texture. Floor-to-ceiling windows provide panoramic views of the lush outdoor courtyard and sparkling pool, creating an inviting connection between the interior and the surrounding landscape.

As you step inside, you’re greeted by an open-concept living space bathed in natural light. The living room features a low-profile, minimalist sofa and a retro-inspired coffee table, while a statement fireplace with a wooden mantel serves as a focal point. Adjacent to the living area is a stylish dining space, complete with a glass-topped table and mid-century modern chairs, perfect for hosting elegant dinners.

The kitchen is a masterpiece of form and function, with sleek cabinetry in a warm wood finish, complemented by stainless steel appliances and a striking, geometric tile backsplash. A breakfast bar offers additional seating and connects seamlessly to the dining area.

The bedrooms continue the theme of understated elegance, with ample natural light and wooden accents that echo the home’s mid-century roots. The master suite boasts direct access to the courtyard and pool, creating a serene retreat. Its en-suite bathroom features a freestanding tub with a view of the private garden, adding a touch of luxury to the space.

Outside, the courtyard is a tranquil oasis with meticulously landscaped greenery and a contemporary pool surrounded by a wooden deck. A chic outdoor lounge area provides a perfect spot for relaxing and entertaining, with a stylish pergola offering shade during sunny days.

Overall, this mid-century modern home in Del Sol Valley is a masterful blend of timeless design and effortless outdoor living, offering elegance and comfort in one stunning package.

#thesims4rent#the sims 4#thesims4#blacksimarch

http://simfileshare.net/folder/228190/

[ickytoadfromspace]

This weekend's project: Makeover & remodel for San Myshuno's Penny Pizzazz, part 2

I wanted to update her apartment to match her cool funky sense of style.

Entryway and main CC:

Main living/bedroom area walls- @pierisim Domaine Du Clos Plein Walls with Paneling

Entryway table- @peacemaker-ic Bowed Phorm Sofa Table

Entryway clutter- @peacemaker-ic Palm Frond, Bookender, Not Just Decor Books

Bedroom CC:

Bedframe- @peacemaker-ic Coba Canopy Bedframe & Coba Canopy

@peacemaker-ic Coba Bed-End Ottoman

Nightstands- @peacemaker-ic Bowed Phorm Side Table

Dresser- @peacemaker-ic Coba Lowboy

Mirror- @peacemaker-ic Mid-Century Eclectic Starburst Mirror

Lamp- @peacemaker-ic Furror Floor Lamp

Rug- @peacemaker-ic Geometric Ripple

Art- @simplistic-sims4 Anthropologie Paintings in Gold Frame

You can also see @greyzonesims Willow Print

Plant is @awingedllama Fiddle Leaf Fig D

Living Room CC:

Sofa & Chair- @harrie-cc & @felixandresims Harluxe Collection

Coffee Table- @peacemaker-ic Bowed Phorm Coffee Table

Plants- @awingedllama Hanging Pothos, Short Hanging Plant- Bohemian

Rug- @peacemaker-ic ColourMe Rugs- Multicolor

Art: @imfromsixam Very Famous and @peacemaker-ic Caine Living Foiled Gold

Clutter: @peacemaker-ic Mid-Century Eclectic Baxtor Glass Vase, @s-imagination Nota Living Room Elephant Scuplture, @imfromsixam Pretty Portrait and Beautiful Landscape, @ravasheencc Hoarders Simnonymous Treasure Box

Tricky to get a good shot of the kitchen! Kitchen CC:

Counters & cabinets- @myshunosun Macaron

Clutter- @peacemaker-ic Atwood Dining Fruit Bowl

Little eating nook-

Bar- @myshunosun Macaron

Barstools- @peacemaker-ic High Back Barstool

Mirror- @peacemaker-ic Coba Claimshell Mirror

You can also see her at her little desk space in the living room way back there-- the chair is @imfromsixam Wood Desk Chair.

I couldn't get any good views of her teeny bathroom, but I can add what I used if anyone is interested!

[shadowsong26fic]

Papa and J---- Update!

Author: shadowsong26

Rating: PG/PG-13

Fandom: Les Misérables

Characters: Technically all on-page characters are OCs; Valjean, Cosette, Marius, and Javert are discussed as historical personalities. Backstory Cosette/Marius and heavily implied Valjean/Javert.

Warnings: Nothing specific, I don’t think?

Summary: Euphrasie Pontmercy–known in the art world as La Jardinière–isn’t exactly a household name. Still, the sheer length of her active career (her work was first displayed and sold in 1839, and she left one last work unfinished at her death in 1910) makes her interesting to people who actually study that century in art. But as far as the historical record is concerned, Jardinière seems to have sprung semi-fully-formed from the streets of Paris somewhere in the mid-to-late 1820s. Other than the fact that she was educated in a convent, essentially nothing is known about her parents or her childhood.

Until now.

Or:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a PhD student with no thesis topic must be in want of an undiscovered painting to go absolutely feral over.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of their respective creators.

Notes: Here we are with Chapter 3! Where Ari talks to Phil’s mom and gets a little more background/family lore. Which is...fairly accurate, even after nearly two centuries of generational telephone, lol. also I am. Tempted. to find someone to commission to actually make a version of the painting are any of y’all who might be artists interested/does anyone have any recommendations of artists who are open for commissions who do that kind of style

Updates will be posted here on Thursdays and crossposted to AO3 on Fridays.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Wednesday afternoon, as soon as the last class I was TAing let out, I headed back to Phil’s house. I’d spoken with his mother on the phone the night before, and she’d agreed to meet me at four. Foot in the door, at least. First hurdle cleared.

Traffic was shit, because of course it was on a day I needed things to run smoothly, and I got there about five minutes late.

The woman who answered the door when I knocked was a little bit shorter than me, with the same bright blue eyes Phil had. Too old to be his sister, so this must be his mom.

“Hi, I’m sorry I’m late,” I said. “I’m Ari Wright, we talked on the phone?”

“Of course,” she said, and smiled, stepping aside. “Please, come in, ah…?”

“Ari is fine,” I said, and followed her inside. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me, Mrs. Riley.”

“Oh, please, Louise is fine,” she said. “Would you like some water, tea?”

“Uh, water would be great, thanks,” I said.

She left me in the living room, excusing herself to go into the kitchen to get it, which gave me another minute alone with the painting.

Which was just as ordinary-extraordinary as it had been on Friday night. Exactly like I remembered it.

To be fair, I’d spent probably way too many hours the past few days studying my shitty phone pictures of it, so.

“I have to admit,” Mrs. Riley--Louise--said, rejoining me and setting a pitcher of water and a couple of glasses on the table. “I was a little surprised when Phil told me one of his friends was interested in Mémé Cosette’s painting.”

I stepped away from the wall and sat in one of the armchairs--not the couch; that would have been Awkward at least in the back of my brain. “I saw it when I was over here with Phil the other day, and…well, it jumped out at me.”

“Right,” she said. “So, what exactly are you looking for here?”

“Well, I was hoping to get your permission to do a more thorough study of the piece,” I said, then hesitated. “…if I can start by asking you some questions? About the painting and its history, whatever you know about it. And recording, if that’s okay. Easier than taking notes.”

“That’s fine,” she said, picking up her glass and settling into one of the other chairs.

I took a sip from the other glass, then set my phone to record audio and put it on the middle of the coffee table. “I suppose I should start with...well, I’m not sure how much you’re aware of your ancestor’s career--Phil wasn’t, at least?”

Louise smiled. “I know who Mémé Cosette was, or at least what I was told about her,” she said. “Euphrasie Pontmercy, also known as La Jardinère. I always liked listening to the family stories.”

“What can you tell me about the painting?” I asked. Obviously, if I went forward, anything she told me would have to be backed up by other sources. Anecdotal family history had a funny way of getting tweaked or embellished over the years, especially when the relative in question was someone even moderately famous. “Phil told me it’s always been in your family, and she’s your…”

“Great-great…great grandmother, I think,” Louise said, taking a moment to count. “My grandmother’s grandfather was her son René.”

The youngest of the five children. Right.

“I’m not sure how exactly the painting ended up in my great-grandmother’s possession, as opposed to any of the other children or grandchildren, but I know she was the one who brought it with her to the States, when she emigrated from France in 1912.” She smiled wryly. “According to the story, they almost boarded Titanic at Cherbourg, but one or more of the children had the measles. Or possibly diphtheria, I’ve heard different things at different times.”

“Not something you’d normally think of as lucky,” I said.

“No, not really,” she agreed. “Like I said, that’s the story, and who knows if it’s true. But I do know that the painting came to my great-grandmother somehow, and she passed it on to my grandmother Marie-Celeste, who left it to me. Since I was the only one of her grandchildren who liked to listen to her stories.”

“Had she actually met La Jardinière?” I asked. It was possible--if they’d been planning to sail in 1912, and Jardinière had died in 1910…

“A few times,” Louise confirmed. “She was about six when Mémé Cosette died, but she remembered visiting her.”

Well, that was a pretty damn solid foundation for the painting’s provenance. Again, I’d have to back up the authentication in other ways, but this was looking more and more promising.

“What about the subjects?” I asked. “The men in the painting, I mean. It’s labeled as Papa and J. Do you know anything about them?”

“Only the stories,” she said. “She was adopted, did you know that? Mémé Cosette, I mean.”

That was interesting; adoption wasn’t a very common practice in the early nineteenth century, at least not in the United States or Great Britain, and most of what did happen was very much behind closed doors. I made a mental note to add the history of French adoption law to my research list. It was unlikely, but maybe I’d get lucky, and there would be some kind of record of the adoption somewhere. If I could track down exactly when and where it happened.

“No, I didn’t,” I said. “Unless there’s something in an obscure French biography I haven’t been able to find and muddle through, I don’t think anyone knows much of anything about her childhood. Which is one of the reasons this painting is so interesting. When did this happen? And where?”

“I don’t know where, exactly,” Louise said. “Some little town in Normandy, maybe? Somewhere in the north of France, I’m pretty sure. Again, according to the family stories. It was when she was around seven or eight, I think? Before that…I don’t know. My grandmother didn’t know, or if she did she never told me, but I think she had the impression that it wasn’t a very good situation. And then Mémé Cosette was adopted, so that’s where Papa came into her life.”

“Do you have a name for him?” I asked. “Her marriage license listed her maiden name as Fauchelevent, but was that his name, or from her birth parents…?”

“That I don’t know,” she said. “All I know is that she was adopted, and that she named her eldest son for her adoptive father.”

And Jardinière’s eldest son’s name was Jean, which was. Extremely, unhelpfully common.

“Do you know which of the men he is?” I asked. “In the painting, I mean.”

Louise got up and went to the wall to examine it. “I…think the bearded man. My grandmother obviously never met him, and I think her grandfather--René, I mean--was very young when he died, but that matches up with what she heard from her aunts and uncles, as she passed it on to me. He was a very private person, and supposedly very strong. One story--and I can’t say I believe it’s true--involved him physically carrying another man to safety for something like twelve hours after some kind of disaster.”

Which…well, Louise was right, that story didn’t seem all that credible. But the more general description, and the kind of man who would give rise to that sort of story, did match up with the impression the painting gave.

I stood up as well, leaving my glass on the coffee table, and joined her at the painting. “What about the other man? The mysterious J?”

“We’re back to a game of generational telephone on this one,” Louise said. “I know even less about him. But my grandmother said he was a close friend of the family, according to what Mémé Cosette told her when she asked once. That he and her--that is, Mémé Cosette’s--father lived together for the last decade or so of his life. Not sure which him she meant.”

…well, all right then.

My eye was, once again, drawn to J’s hand, resting on the back of the chair. And they lived together, maybe, for a decade or so.

Of course, that could mean a lot of different things. And, you know, it’s easy to see what you want to see, especially when there’s so little information to go on. Whatever their relationship was, though, I’d been right in my initial impression of intimacy. Whatever kind of intimacy it was.

“Right,” I said. “I think that’s a good baseline, at least for now, but I might have more questions later. And I…not that I’m saying I doubt your version of the story, or anything, but…”

“But if you want to actually research the painting, you need more proof than half-remembered family stories after two centuries of generational telephone,” Louise said, and smiled again. “It’s fine, I know how research works. I remember when my husband got his Master’s degree.”

“Yeah, exactly,” I said. “Thank you, for your understanding. Um, so, with your permission, I would like to borrow the painting for a few weeks. To authenticate it, and do a more detailed analysis of the technique and construction and so on, see what else I can learn from the actual physical piece.”

“Right,” Louise said, turning back to the painting again, thinking. “Just to study it, you said? And, obviously, write about your findings if you find anything worth writing about. But you won’t put the painting on display in a museum or anything?”

I shook my head. “Not unless you agree to it, no. I’d take photographs, to include with the paper, but the painting itself won’t go on display unless you allow it.”

“And when you cite it…I don’t know how it works, exactly, but you wouldn’t have to specifically name me?”

“No, I can just list it as being in a private collection.”

“Right,” she said. “…I have to admit, now that you’re here asking questions…I didn’t really think about it before. How many gaps there are in the story.”

“It’s funny how memory works sometimes,” I said. “Especially…well, like you said, when generational telephone gets involved.”

And it was…a weirdly appropriate question in context, since that was something Jardinière had come back to time and time again in her work. This idea of memory, and how it lines up with reality. How it changes. Those repeat paintings she’d made of the same locations in Paris over the years. The series of paintings of her own memories.

And, of course, her last painting. Souvenir--inachevé. Memory--unfinished.

Definitely need to get to Chicago to see it in person.

“True,” she said. “All right. Under those conditions--that the painting won’t be displayed, and that you’ll leave my name out of it, you have my permission to borrow it and do whatever tests or study you need for your research.”

“Thank you!” I said. “Thank you so much, this…I really appreciate all your help, Mrs.--Louise.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “And I hope you’ll share whatever you find with me, before publishing?”

“Of course,” I said. “It’s your painting, your family history.”

“Good,” she said, and smiled again. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Me, too,” I said. “Me, too.”

[blamelessfish]

Silver Part Three

Previous // Next // Master List

The drive back to my apartment was uneventful, save for Alphus’ taste in music. It was some indie station, and between the music, it was advertising some kind of Woodstock reboot in July, in New York. I turned to Alphus. “Can we listen to something else?” I asked in a half-joking manner.

“What?” he asked.

“I just expected a centuries old construct to have a more refined music taste.” He laughed.

“Not all of us can get by on Mozart and mid 1950’s Jazz.”

“You leave Jazz Abroad out of this,” I said as we pulled into the parking lot in front of our unit. “It didn’t do anything to you.” He laughed, and we got out of the car. The smell hit me. Mrs.Kinnian from 3C was making her apple turnovers again. Alphus leaned on the roof of the car, my old Plymouth creaking under his bulk. 

“Smells like Mrs.K wants something from you again,” he said. I waved at Mrs.Kinnian through her window, returning the warm smile that she gave me.

“Why do you say that?”

“She and Mr.K don’t like apple turnovers. But you do.” I patted my stomach. I started towards her door.

“I might as well see what she wants then.”

“Silver, we’ve got our plate full.”

“And it’s about to be more full,” I said as I approached her door, across the hall from mine. “With apple turnovers.” I knocked on the door. Alphus sighed. “We’ll see what she wants and take some baked goods. That’s all.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Mrs.Kinnian opened the door. She was a tiny old lady, with frazzled white hair that blew up around her head like a frizzy halo, and glasses thick enough to stop bullets. The smell of cinnamon, apples, and chocolate blasted out the hall past her, and my stomach growled. She smiled at me.

“Well hello there silver,” she said, with the kind of affection that only a grandparent could give. Damn. I really was going to end up doing a favor for her, wasn’t I? She looked up at Alphus. “Hello, Martin,” she said, and smiled at him too.

“Hello, Dora,” he said, and I could hear that his resolve was weakening.

“Won’t you come inside for some baked goods and coffee?”

“Actually,” Alphus said, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder, “we just wanted to check in on you. We need to get to some other business we have.” 

“Oh you two can’t even take some of them off my hands?” She stepped aside, and her old, spoiled beagle wheezed his way over to me. I crouched and pet him.

“Unfortunately not,” Alphus said. “We’d have to take them to go.” The beagle, Mr.Whitmus, started licking my hands.

“Oh are you sure dear? I made those gooey fudge cookies you love, and you know they’re best warm.”

“Well, I- uh,” he hesitated, and I smiled, knowing we had him. “Okay,” he said. “Just a few minutes though.”

“Of course, dear,” she said. I stood up, and she led the both of us inside. On the walls of her entrance hall were pictures of her and Mr.Kinnian, a heavyset, kind man with dark skin and a bushy mustache. Her carpeting was plush, as was her furniture. She had a thick, orange and green floral couch, a padded rocking chair with purple cushions, and a gray loveseat. All of this around a dark wooden coffee table with an unsullied finish. The orange face of Garfield smiled at us from a set of four coasters set around a metal bowl full of multicolored stones that doubled as a candle holder. She shuffled off to the kitchen, and both Alphus and I took a seat on the couch. Alphus glanced at the T.V, which was playing a rerun of Jeopardy.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Alphus hissed.

“What do you mean?” I asked, doing my best to sound innocent.

“We have other shit we have to do, and-”

“Are you sure that I can’t get the two of you any coffee?”

“I’m good, thank you,” Alphus said, doing his best to hide his irritation.

“Just some tea for me, please,” I said. “I’m sure that Martin would love a cup, he’s just being polite.”

“What the-”

“Oh, he should know better than to be polite in this household!” Dora laughed, cutting Alphus off. Alphus groaned, and rested his forehead in his hands.

“No sugar, please,” he said, defeated.

“I’ll take some,” I said. A few minutes passed quietly, Alphus occasionally muttering the trivia that contestants on Jeopardy missed under his breath. Eventually, Dora brought us each a plate with our baked goods of choice, and our tea.

“Won’t you have any?” Alphus asked.

“I already had some,” she said. We all made small talk for a little while, which helped to ease the tension that had been growing in my neck since I woke up that morning. Well, it was more of the night before, but that didn’t seem relevant. Mr.Whitmus climbed into my lap. He was a heavy boy, but incredibly soft. At some point, Alphus leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He didn’t need to sleep, but he still needed to enter a sort of trance to regain his energy, where he sort of stopped paying attention to the world around him. I’m still not quite sure how it all works. I’m not a flesh-smith. “Silver,” she finally said after I finished my tea. “I need to ask you a favor.” I looked up from Mr.Whitmus, who I had been showering with belly rubs.

“What’s the favor?”

“Well I,” she hesitated, glancing out the window behind me. “I don’t rightly know.” I raised an eyebrow, and leaned forward as much as I could with a thirty pound beagle in my lap. She leaned in as well. “I think it might’ve had to do with your kind of folk.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, unsure if she meant gay people or practitioners.

“Folks of a magical persuasion,” she whispered, as though we were sharing a conspiracy. Most of the people in our complex were clued in on the supernatural, having had a severe haunting a few years prior, and some of the residents themselves being inhuman beings.

“What did you see?”

“Well I saw it outside, last night,” she said, and looked out her window again. “It was tall, taller than a person, and nothing but skin or bone,” a chill ran up my spine, and Alphus snapped out of his trance, his eyes fixing on her with razor focus. She balked. “Maybe I didn’t see-” Alphus shook his head.

“Please continue,” he said, “it’s important.” She nodded.

“It was so fast, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.” I stood up, Mr.Whitmus hopping to the ground. Why hadn’t my wards alerted me the moment a feaster entered the complex? “It ran into the woods there,” she said, and gestured to the patch of woods across from the apartment complex. That was bad. I knew that a few families had houses on the other side of the woods, not to mention the people living in the woods themselves. “What should I do?” Alphus paced to the window, looking outside.

“First, get inside as soon as the sun goes down. Stay there. It might be a good idea for Harold to stay home too.” I glanced around her living room. “Do you have anything that’s made of Silver? Genuine, authentic silver. Sterling will do, but the purer the better.”

“I have my mother’s old set,” she said, and walked to a cabinet with glass doors. She opened it, and took out the silverware set, which sat below what I assumed was a picture of her mother. She handed it to me. I took a piece out, and tried to run Arcane Energy through it. It didn’t work.

“This is perfect,” I said. I set some on the windowsill, touching the window.

“Put the silverware by each window, and on the internal lining of the door. Tell the others I said to do the same if they can.” I glanced outside again. It was still bright out, but the sun was slowly beginning to set. About three hours until dark. “I have something else I need to do tonight, but the silver will keep it out.”

“What should I do if it shows up again?”

“It won’t be able to get in, but if something happens and it does, my door will be unlocked. Lucille will be home. She can handle it.” She nodded. She was shaking, clearly afraid. I hugged her. “It’ll be okay,” I said. She nodded. “I have to go handle something else, and then I promise I’ll take care of this.”

“Okay.” I let her go, and walked towards her door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I left her apartment, and glanced at Alphus.

“Still think it can wait?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Why didn’t your wards pick up on an Outsider?”

“No idea,” I said, and opened our apartment. The smell of incense and old candles wafted out, mingling with the smell of Mrs.K’s baked goods. I paused. There was nothing else. Normally static washed over my skin when I walked inside, a side effect of my wards. Alphus bumped into me.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked.

“They’re fucking gone,” I said.

“What?”

“My wards, they’re gone.” Alphus swore in a language I didn’t understand, shoved me behind him, and drew his handgun. “Lucille,” I called, “is everything okay?”

“Peachy,” she called.

“Boxers or briefs?” Alphus asked.

“Boxer-Briefs,” she said. “Crunchy or creamy?”

“I prefer Hazelnut Spread,” I said. Alphus put the gun away. Lucille stepped out of the kitchen. She was frowning. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, and a scar worked its way down the left side of her face, from just above her brow down to her throat.

“Why the interrogation?” she asked. Alphus and I stepped inside, and I closed the door.

“My wards are down,” I said. She blinked.

“How?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“I’m taking a look around outside,” Alphus said. “Stay here.”

“Okay,” I said. Alphus left, looking more nervous than I had seen him in a long time.

“What happened?” Lucille asked.

“A lot,” I said. “I’ll tell you over dinner. What are we having?”

“I’m making shrimp fried rice,” she said. I nodded. “Go sit down, I’ll bring you a bowl.” 

“Thanks,” I said, and sat down in the living room by the front door. Where Dora’s furniture was pristine, practically untouched, ours was scavenged from yard sales and thrift shops. Our futon had been patched with various different types of cloth, and Alphus’ big chair leaked stuffing from the various holes he hadn’t been able to patch yet. He didn’t let anyone else touch it. Our coffee table had been torn up by Lucille’s cat, Boomstick, and the surface was cratered with cup rings. We’d spent most of our furnishing budget on the TV, which took up a good chunk of the wall opposite the futon, and Lucille’s PlayStation sat under it, with a few scattered games. Boomstick joined me, and I scratched behind the large orange cat’s ears. He purred like an engine, and flopped over on my lap. He batted at my hands as I reached for the remote, flipping on some nature documentary. I heard Lucille start cooking, and closed my eyes. After a few minutes, she was nudging me, holding out a bowl.

“Eat up,” she said. I took the fried rice and put it down, and she walked to the kitchen, coming back with her bowl, and a beer for each of us. I tapped my beer to hers, and she took a long drink from it. She had dark skin, and as a lycanthrope, her features were just on the human side of the uncanny valley. “So what happened?” she finally asked.

“Well, I got a call around 10 AM from Seattle’s finest,” I said. “They had a body they wanted me to look at, and a ritual.” I took a bite of the fried rice. It was divine, the fattiness and saltiness being exactly what I needed. 

“Was it something real?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “A little too real, actually,” I said. The door opened, and Alphus stepped in, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, sweet, fried rice,” he said, and walked to the kitchen.

“Find anything?” I asked him.

“No,” he said. “Footprints look like a feaster, but that doesn’t explain the wards.” He left the kitchen, and walked to his chair with a beer and his food. “Thanks for dinner, Lucille.”

“Of course,” she said. “So the scene was a bit too real?” she asked.

“Yeah. So I called the C.O.D in, met the replacements.”

“We knew you would at some point. Can’t leave the post empty.” I nodded in agreement.

“Yeah.” I took another bite. “So, after that fun scene, I head to Marcilla’s because she had something for me. Come to find out one of her guys was killed-”

“The packs didn’t-”

“Have anything to do with it, I know,” I said, and waved my hand at her. I thought back on the scene, and my stomach twisted as I remembered the Arcane pollution. The taste of blood. The way the energy was alive. That skittering. Thing. “I know,” I said again. 

“That bad?”

“Yeah,” Alphus and I said at the same time. I shook my head with disgust. “Then I come home and find my wards are dead, and there’s a feaster running around.” I finished my rice, and got up. “I need to go start my Steel-Soul and God’s Tears.” I put my bowl in the sink, and leaned against the hallway wall, looking at her.

“Are you heading out again tonight?” Lucille asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “I have to appease a revenant.” She clicked her tongue sympathetically. 

“Sounds like you have your hands full.”

“I do.” She met my eyes, thinking for a moment.

“You know, I can’t close the Third Gate for you,”

“I know.” I crossed my arms.

“The pack and I could hunt that feaster down for you, though.” I thought for a moment. She and the rest of her pack were shifters, unaffected by the phases of the moon, so they wouldn’t be weakened by it starting to wane. Additionally, I’d be too busy to handle it that night. Finally, and most importantly, I knew that whatever I said, she would go hunt it anyways.

“Sure,” I eventually said. “It’s not like it can infect you. Just be careful.” She nodded, and it was clear that I had passed some kind of test.

“I always am.” I chuckled as I turned away from her, and made my way to my work room. I put my hand on the door, and sent a pulse of energy through it. The door slid open, and I sighed with relief. The room was almost as large as my apartment on its own. I stepped in, and the door closed behind me. I was met with the hum of Arcane Energy, and I glanced around at the runes. The extradimensional space was holding, the place seemingly unaffected by whatever had disabled my wards. I let out a sigh, and took in the smell of the herbs I grew there. I had shaped the extradimensional void into a vague facsimile of an antique study, complete with a perpetually  roaring fireplace and heavy bookshelves. My summoning circle was untouched, which I took as another good sign. The easiest way for Outsiders to intrude on a Practitioner's home was through the summoning circle. The only permanent etching was the circle itself, and the protective hieroglyphs around it. It was at the end of the room, in front of the fireplace. A plush chair sat in the circle, a small olive branch I offered to anything I summoned. If I called you, I’d do my damndest to make sure you were comfortable. In the spaces between bookshelves and cabinets, I had placed planters, growing various herbs and mushrooms that I needed for alchemy. Small orbs of light hung above them. Along the center of the room was a series of six burners, each with a clean flask. In the middle was a well, which tapped into somewhere in the Beyond to conjure water within it. I got to work. I was out of powdered Drake Bone for the Steel-Soul, so I had to make do with just the God’s Tears. It had the unfortunate scent of rotten straw. While the potion was simmering, I visited my cabinet again, grabbing my bag, and loading it with Silver Powder, Crushed Quartz, Golden Thread, a vial of Fool Moon water, and my silver dagger. The dagger was a gift from my teacher, keeper Durello. It was a Pugio, the word Custos etched on the blade, as a statement of office. I left my athame behind. I wouldn’t need to open any gates. I grabbed the staff I had been working on. A focus isn’t necessary for working with the Arcane, but it helps, especially when you have to do it quickly and dirty. I tend not to use one unless necessary, because it draws attention. This one was specifically made of Ash Wood, to help ground and redirect hostile energies. I had worked three copper rings, the metal of the First Gate, around the bottom, etched with protective runes, to capture and hold energies. I had wrapped the staff in strips of Birch for further protection, simply burning “shield” into each strip in various languages. It was coming along well, but I still needed to affix a head to it. I wasn’t sure if I would go with a band, an orb, or an animal head. I put it aside once I had wrapped the eight strips around it, one for each Gate. I decided that I would have the head made of obsidian, as its connection to the void made it ideal to absorb energies. I put it back in the cabinet, and bottled the potion. God’s Tears was used to numb pain and raise resilience. I only made one bottle, as potions would be useless for Alphus, then cleaned up and left. By then, two hours had passed.

“Welcome back,” Alphus said from his room. It was a cluttered sort of den, with various weapons that he had collected over the centuries. “I grabbed my sword, and loaded up on silver bullets.”

“Here’s hoping we won’t need them,” I said. 

“I’ll drink to that.” He got up, and pulled a long coat over himself. “Lucille went out with the pack already. What do we do if Mrs.K needs to get in and get protected?” I sighed. I’d forgotten about that.

“We could ask Alex.” I sighed, and nodded.

“I’ll do it, yeah.” I walked over to the phone, and dialed for Alex. It rang twice, and he picked up.

“Heya Silv, wassup?” I heard Beethoven bark in the background, recognizable even over the phone.

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah man. What do you need?”

“Can you watch the house tonight? Something took my wards down-”

“Jello or Pudding?”

“Ice cream,” I said, trying to mask my irritation.

“Sorry man, can’t be too careful.”

“Yeah. Anyways, my wards are down, and Mrs.K saw a feaster around.”

“Yeah, heard about that.”

“Yeah. I’m heading out to deal with a revenant, and Lucille won’t be home, so,”

“You need someone there if shit hits the fan. Yeah man, I can watch Mrs.K for yah.”

“Thanks man.”

“‘Course, dude.” There was a pause. “Did you say a revenant?”

“Yeah, long story.”

“Fuck man, I’m just glad I’m not you. I’ll be over in a few.” He hung up. After a few minutes, I heard him knocking on the door. I opened it. He was wearing a tanktop and cargo shorts, with flip flops. His entire body was covered in scars, from his work as an independent hunter. He had Beethoven with him, the ragged Great Dane pouncing on Alphus, who started showering him with attention.

“Thanks for doing this last minute. Mrs.K knows you, so this should be fine.”

“Yeah dude.” He looked past me, at Alphus. “Guns are still in your room, yeah?”

“Yeah. I got a new sig.”

“Oh sick, what model?”

“I got the P229, loaded with .357. Silver, of course.”

“Nice, nice,” Alex looked around. “Where’s Boomstick?”

“Probably hiding from Beethoven,” I said. “Listen, Alphus and I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“If you don’t check in in two days, I’m assuming you’re dead.” I knew he wasn’t joking. 

“I understand.” Alphus and I headed out. I glanced up at the night sky. A thick band of storm clouds was rolling in. I sighed.

“That’s foreboding.”