#pouf balls

[garfinski]

Dining Room - Enclosed

Example of a huge transitional carpeted enclosed dining room design

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Every so often I do a quiz that makes me name all the pokemon (1008) and it makes me wanna draw a few

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 7, 1 avril 1886, Paris. No. 2. Costume Clergyman. No. 3. Costume Diane. No. 4. Costume de visite. Bibliothèque nationale de France

No. 2. Costume Clergyman. Jupe de lainage vitraux bleu à filets rouges, drapée en biais sur le tablier, tombant en plis droits sur le côté, coquillant en pouf derrière. Là-dessus un jersey en laine bleue, lacé en aiguillettes par une tresse de mohair rouge.

No. 2. Clergyman suit. Blue stained glass woolen skirt with red threads, draped diagonally over the apron, falling in straight folds on the side, shell like a pouf behind. On top a blue wool jersey, laced in needles with a braid of red mohair.

—

No. 3. Costume Diane. En soie de sanglier fauve. La jupe montée à gros plis par devant, tombant en pouf derrière, fendue de côté sur un jupon barré d'astrakan naturel.

Le corsage en sanglier tricoté, brodé d'une fine guirlande en laine bourrue, d'un ton plus foncé. Capeline en paillasson beige, avec cordon de boules ambrées et panache de plumes fauves.

No. 3. Diana suit. In tawny boar silk. The skirt fitted with large pleats in the front, falling in a pouf at the back, slit on the side over a petticoat barred with natural astrakhan.

The bodice in knitted boar, embroidered with a fine garland of coarse wool, in a darker tone. Beige doormat capeline, with cord of amber balls and plume of fawn feathers.

—

No. 4. Costume de visite. En étamine gris de fer, ciselée de rayures à jour. Le devant de la jupe forme double pli Montespan. Le reste est plissé. Là-dessus une tunique drapée, ouverte devant et retroussée de côté en étamine unie, de même ton. Jersey en soie grise ouvert par une double rangée de boutons nacrés sur un gilet de velours d'une nuance plus soutenue.

No. 4. Visiting suit. In iron gray cheesecloth, chiselled with openwork stripes. The front of the skirt forms a Montespan double pleat. The rest is pleated. On top a draped tunic, open in front and rolled up at the side in plain cheesecloth, of the same tone. Gray silk jersey opened with a double row of pearly buttons on a velvet waistcoat of a more intense shade.

[in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather]

[Starship Icarus] IV

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Summary: Mills finally meets his sleepin' gal.

WC: ~5.8K

*

You woke up as if from a grumpy nap as a child. Had you been a teenager, you would have rolled over, wrapping your blanket around you like a burrito and asked for five more minutes. Followed by trying to sleep for an hour or more.

The screen rose into view as your pod tilted. Your body gradually became accustomed to weight and gravity again, in a way that made you aware of the endless vessels carrying fluids all throughout the landscape of your flesh. You shuddered at the sensation and only listened to the voice greeting you and guiding you out of stasis without opening your eyes.

“We have nearly completed the voyage from Earth to Homestead II, where you begin your exploratory mission. Homestead II is the second planet outside Earth’s solar system to be colonized and the first in the Bhakti system to be explored,” she spoke in her serene, mechanical voice and you started testing out your newly awakened body. Deep breath, balling up a fist, swallow, blink, neck pop. The pod, cracked open like an egg from which you were meant to hatch, wheeled you to the door.

“…the Icarus is on final approach. For the next four months, you’ll enjoy space travel at its most luxurious.” You huffed an unimpressed little laugh and you were satisfied your contrariness was intact after a century in deathlike-sleep.

“…let’s get you to your cabin where you can get some rest.”

*

You remained in your cabin only long enough to follow the protocol, drink some resurrection juice and receive your luggage. It was nice and spacious in there, and you were gratified your Moroccan leather pouf was already waiting. You could immediately tell you’d be taking it easy and resting for a day or two until you were feeling more like yourself. A relaxing bout of reading with your feet up on the pouf and some fragrant tea steaming in a mug sounded heavenly.

As soon as you were out of your stasis gown and dressed in your own clothes, you went out in search of the other passengers. It was a little eerie to be alone, with only holos and machines for company.

“Hello?” you called out softly, voice still croaky from disuse. “Anybody around?” you asked casually, not wanting to come across as too eager or discombobulated. Silly thing to worry about in the face of colonizing a new planet.

A figure of a tall man shimmered behind a fountain and you stopped for a moment. Still groggy, you wondered if you weren’t just seeing weird shadows. Surely, the polite thing would have been to respond if he’d seen you. “Hi?” you offered, prepared to feel silly if you’d just greeted a mechanical ficus or a waylaid coat rack.

“Hi,” he responded in a gravelly voice and finally came fully into view as you passed the fountain. You watched each other in silence for a few moments. On your end, you were trying not to give him blatant elevator eyes or burst into girlish giggles. He looked right out of superhero central casting, the kind of ruggedly good-looking that was reserved for Brawny man commercials and bodice-ripper front covers.

Gingerly, as if he might scare you off, he took a few tentative steps closer. You did the same and stopped when there was a friendly, but polite distance left between you. “Are you passenger or crew?”

“Passenger. Julian Mills,” he was looking at you without blinking. He was probably just as disoriented as you.

You gave him your name and extended a hand. Julian looked at it oddly. It felt like offering a starving man a juicy steak. When he took it, his hand large and pleasantly warm, he held it for a long moment.

“I didn’t see anyone else from my row wake up yet. What about yours?” you asked, still more sleepwalking than awake. He stopped shaking your hand, but still held it.

“Same on my end.”

Thoughts were slow to crawl through the fog of your brain. It was increasingly frustrating to feel yourself sluggishly process information that should be received instantly. “The crew is supposed to wake up a month before we do,” you observed, looking around, somehow already knowing you wouldn’t find anyone else. The reassuring sheath of his hand around yours slipped away as you twisted around.

*

God, she was quick on the uptake. It had taken Mills hours and a long bout of sleep to even get his brain working again. She was quick and smart and beautiful. And he loved her so much already.

“I haven’t seen anybody else so far,” she added, confused, but hopeful.

His heart squeezed guiltily. He knew living with his actions would be difficult, but it felt worse in ways he could not have anticipated. “The crew is still asleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, ma’am.”

“Miss,” she corrected and he wanted to smile at that. It was the snippy tone he recognized from before and his chest melted like honey. “That makes me feel ancient.”

“Miss.”

“Um, back to the topic at hand,” she still felt loopy and it showed. “Who’s going to land the ship? We’re arriving in a few weeks.”

To make short work of it, Mills took her to the observatory. The same little panorama showing how screwed they were informed her of their whereabouts, now approximately two years closer to Homestead II than when he was there the first time.

“The others aren’t late waking up,” he said when he saw the same rejection in her expression that he felt initially. “We’re early.”

Her mind was beautifully clear and logical, so he led her down the same path he stumbled down many months before, without even needing to suggest the next steps. He battled with feeling impressed and smitten, and having to watch emerging hopelessness and panic grip the woman he loved.

The crew were in their inaccessible area, messages took decades to travel to and fro, it was impossible to break into key areas, impossible to get back into the pods.  

Finally panic set it and he let her run off, in search of her pod. He gave her time, appreciating that she would want to have whatever breakdown was to ensue privately. It was the smallest bit of decency he could afford her.

When he eventually decided he should look in on her, she was still looking for a way back in feverishly. He indulged her, letting her try to convince him there had to be a way, as desperate and incoherent as she was being. He would spend the rest of his life happily paying penance now that she was with him, indulging her until his dying breath.

He led her past the wreckage in front of her crew room, where he had been unsuccessfully trying to break in with every implement he could think of. She agreed to take a seat in and some deep breaths, a sedative if need be. He half carried her as she slumped into his side, knees wobbly from over-excitement. She paused and took in the marks of a labor than had clearly gone on for months.

“How long have you been awake?” she looked up at him and frowned. Realization sharpened her gaze and he looked for any signs of accusation, of pulling away. None yet, he was momentarily relieved.

“Close to two years.”

Her hand lifted to her lips in horror and he could swear she was about to cry.

“Come on, it’s right through here,” he secured a firm hold around the curve of her waist and directed her towards a lounging area of the Grand Concourse.

*

“You remember the facility you had to go to? Where they put you under? The procedure has to be done with special equipment, pretty much only in lab conditions. It’s multi-faceted and it takes a long time. There is no such equipment on the ship, or anyone with expertise to do it. The pods we were in are just designed to maintain stasis for a certain length of time and wake us up.”

She listened, despite all the effort it took, and Mills could see her try to stave off more fits. Her body was tightly coiled, rocking back and forth in a tiny orbit, teeth chewing anxiously on her thumbnail. She was quiet for a long time, occasionally shaking her head, in disbelief or refusal.

“I don’t want to condescend in any way, but I’ve been through what you’re feeling now. You should believe I’ve tried everything I could think of.”

“Two years…” she shook her head. Her eyes were full of pity when she looked at him again. He couldn’t stand to meet her earnest gaze for longer than a moment.

“You should sleep,” he suggested gently. “It will clear your head, I promise. You probably feel like it’s full of cotton wool now.” She wouldn’t confirm and he decided not to tell her anymore about what ‘she must be feeling’. “Drink that freaky pink stuff from the water dispenser, it’ll feel good. In the morning, you’ll… I can’t promise you’ll feel much better, but you’ll be more yourself.”

She was still too shocked to cry, as he had been at first, so she just looked defeated. Still, she stood up and opted for the correct corridor to make her way to her cabin, which was impressive.

“I can walk you to your cabin,” Mills suggested as casually as he could, even as his heart climbed into his throat and choked him. “The layout can be confusing,” he fumbled, losing confidence when she didn’t nod vigorously or give some other indication she wanted him. He should have just said I’m taking you - in fact, I’m also holding your hand. And I’ll be there first thing in the morning when you wake up.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” she said out of some self-sufficient, considerate habit.

She didn’t want his company. He tried not to spiral out. Sure, she’ll want to process this unimaginable calamity. However, he would have given anything, anything at all, to have someone with him on that first day. God, that first night, how awful it was, in endless solitude. And there she was, bravely walking away, sure that she would find a way to fix it.

“Almost two years…” she repeated, this time in a sigh that made him weak. “I’m so sorry you were alone for so long. It must have been torture.”

“It was,” he choked out, wondering if his face looked as guilty as his thoughts.

She shared a convivial silence with him before surrendering to her exhaustion. “Goodnight.”

*

Mills knew he would not be getting a wink of sleep that night. His blood felt like stinging electricity in his veins, shocking as it pumped through him.

“What’ll it be, Mills?” Clyde greeted in his subdued way.

“The usual.”

“How’s yer day been?” he asked just to make conversation. Mills’ paranoid brain detected a non-existent tone of accusation.

Mills swished the bourbon for a long moment, gaze lost in some private distance. “You know I have the worst luck in the world?”

“How’s that?”

“My prom date broke her leg after I asked her out – never made it to actual prom. I once gave CPR to a guy who’d been in a car crash. He sued me for fracturing some of his ribs. The company I worked for was the only one in the colonization business, right up until I was supposed to embark on the first mission. Then they went under. The one woman I’ve been unable to get out of my head is right under in front of me, right under my nose forever… and I can’t get to her.”

Clyde countered with his own programmed backstory – how his pa lost his diamond, how his uncle Stickley was electrocuted, how his ma got sick after she got their daddy’ settlement, how his brother blew his knee out and ruined a promising sports career, how he lost his hand…

“She’s awake,” Mills interrupted the story he had heard many times before, half-compunction, half-defiance.

There was only one she Mills had mentioned in all these months, so Clyde did not need to ask for clarification. “Congratulations,” he offered and Mills stared back, face not displaying the usual markers of happiness or satisfaction around the eyes or mouth.

“That’s whatcha wanted,” Clyde prompted, as though Mills’ circuitry failed for a moment and he was trying to get it back on track.

Mills could have strangled him. For the crime of being completely right.

“Ya don’t look happy,” the bartender noted and waited for an explanation.

“Can androids keep secrets?” Mills asked, realizing he should have wondered about that much sooner.

“I dunno ’bout androids, but gentlemen can,” Clyde responded solemnly, “and I consider myself one.”

Mills nodded. “Don’t tell her.”

“Don’t tell her what?” Clyde asked back earnestly. To him, borrowing her pen and waking her out of stasis were probably on par and he needed explicit instructions as to what to keep from her.

“Don’t tell her that I woke her,” Mills hated saying it out loud. “Let me do it in my own time.”

“’Course,” Clyde agreed all too easily, blissfully bereft of morals.

*

What if she likes short blond dudes? Mills wondered as he lay sideways on his prison cot of a bed. Still wide awake, he had his hands folded behind his head, eyes staring unseeing into the creamy ceiling. Some Aryan ideal? Maybe a British accent? A long coke nail? A nipple ring? He could be as much not her type as she was perfectly his.

How long, then, before she was ready to give in? To touch him like he craved, even if she didn’t really like him at all? It seemed an inevitability, even if he hadn’t known, from the earliest memories as a boy breaking hearts on the playground, to his exploits as an adult, precisely the kind of effect he had on women. What a sick thought, and one he kept having despite himself, counting greedily down to it.

*

It had been years since you woke up crying. The last time had been from a nightmare when you were still a teen. You’d forgotten it was possible to wake up already sobbing and salty with tears.

That next morning, you’d arisen, implausibly, even more desperate and disconsolate. If it even was morning. If time was reckoned the same way out here, or reckoned at all. If it was, then it was inexorably ticking down to your death, hurtling towards you like those glittering, burning stars sprinkled around your charging ship, dragging you into oblivion and making your fleeting existence truly pointless.

*

“No hibernation pod has malfunctioned in thousands of interstellar flights,” the holo assured you.

“I’m telling you, mine has!”

“Hibernation pods are failsafe,” it responded contentedly and Julian recognized the same conversation he once had as he approached.

“And yet, I’m awake! What a conundrum, hm?” you planted your hands on your hips, as though scolding. He took in the pose and smiled sadly.

“Dumb machine,” you muttered when you realized you’d get nowhere with that piece of junk.

“Happy to help!”

You gave it the middle finger as you turned to leave and join Julian on the way to the mess hall.

*

Behind you, there was a failure with the greeter holo. Its blue light blinked erratically and powered down, the blue circles along its crescent base turning black as they died one by one. You were too frustrated to look back and Julian was too distracted by you. He walked up to your side, eyeing the small of your back and the swell of your ass under it, hand tingling with desire to rest.... on either one. He missed how the sphere flickered and shut down. Deep in the bowels of the ship, red letters flashed warnings on screens before guttering out. No burial was had and their ghosts were snatched piecemeal out of the ether by other systems, carrying on some of their work, while the other bits, both crucial and banal, stopped like broken clocks.

*

“Have you eaten?”

“No. And I could eat a horse,” she said unselfconsciously and he nodded.

“Gold class breakfast,” the dispenser announced when he was already seated. The unfamiliar pronouncement made him crane his neck curiously.

She carried over a tray laden with food and tucked into it as soon as she sat down. They ate in silence until she had to come up for air. It was then she noticed his soylent beige and black coffee. “Yeesh. I feel like a glutton,” she muffled, a big bite still filling out her cheeks.

He shrugged. He was enjoying the sight of her delighting in her meal too much to care about having the same gruel for the millionth day in a row. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just not a gold class passenger.”

“What?” she frowned and her hand shot up in front of her mouth in case some food came flying out. Mills was amused to see her eyes widen as the information soaked in. “No way! Are you kidding me? What is this wannabe class bullshit?” she was outraged and he ached at the fact that she could muster this emotion for him in the middle of all her turmoil.

He just shrugged again, trying not to grin around his spoon of bland soylent. He should have realized this revelation would incense her proletariat spirit.

“Have you been…eating just that? This whole time?” she tried to ask evenly, not to make him feel bad.

“For breakfast, yeah,” he said. It had been so long that he just couldn’t bother being upset about it anymore.

She, however, shot out of her seat. “Let me get you something! What do you want?” she entreated, flustered with the desire to do something kind for him. It was such a genuine compassionate act that guilt overwhelmed him again. What would she do if she knew, he wondered while she made her way over and examined the menu.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he protested half-heartedly. He had never been much of a fruit and veggie guy back home, but over a year in, he would take kale and rambutan and kumquat and fucking chard, just to remember how much he didn’t enjoy any of it.

She slid a tray heavy with food in front of him, from crispy bacon and hashbrowns, to scones and cut up papaya and dragon fruit, with some foamy coffee that smelled overly sweet. But he’d be damned if he didn’t down that odious concoction all the same.

He stabbed some dragon fruit with its Dalmatian dots embedded in the white flesh, chuckling at the sight.

“You like dragon fruit?” she asked, slowly recovering from her mortification.

“I hate it!” Mills proclaimed happily and popped it into his mouth.

*

During the day, and the next several ones, you kept suggesting different options. Checking out the infirmary, the cargo hold, the comms room, building your own pods…

We can’t do that, Julian would reply, or that didn’t work, I already did it, as he shot every idea down.

“You’re not even considering—” you snapped, losing the battle to frustration.

“I’ve considered all of it,” Julian assured, effortlessly patient. “I’ve tried it, I promise you. Everything you can think of, and then countless other things.”

He seemed ready to settle down and give into this trudge into the void. The mere thought of it made your pulse skyrocket and sent you hyperventilating.

“I’m not ready to give up,” you said unsteadily as your breath kept sliding out of your lungs without ever oxygenating you.

*

For the next few days, you consciously avoided Julian as you put your ideas into action. You tried and failed, just like he said you would.

Eventually, to keep yourself busy and try to make sense of some of your thoughts, you started keeping a log. Whether it would become a personal diary or a document you would try to submit in order to detail what happened to you and Julian to the company, you were not yet sure.

“Why did you do it?” you asked as you approached the desk where he tinkered with something that looked like half of a set of binoculars.

He looked up like a TV frozen on an uncanny distorted image.

“Join the mission,” you clarified as you pulled out the notes you’d been keeping for your log. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been thinking of making some notes… Not sure for what yet, but I was wondering if you’d let me interview you?”

“Sure,” he became warmer again and put down what he was working on without complaint. “But what do I have to say that would interest anyone?”

“You are the first hibernation failure in the history of space travel. The first recorded one, at least,” you added with your distrustful tone and he smiled at that. He really could be distractingly handsome and you had to consciously hold back from trying to tease out more of those rakish smiles. “That’s major news.”

“Mh,” he nodded, “I’d love to be regarded as the first and biggest failure in something,” he had a delightfully sardonic wit and you smiled for the first time in days.

“You’re not in bad company.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“The Wright Brothers,” you supplied and he leaned his head side to side, weighing your words.

“Henry Ford, Albert Einstein...”

“You’re making me blush,” he gave a coy flick of the wrist, so at odds with his classical masculinity.

“Thomas Edison,” you added the last name that usually followed on that list.

“His fortune turned, I believe, when he started stealing,” he noted with a shrewd look on his face.

“Yeah. Forget that asshole,” you conceded.

“I take your point,” he said and added in a smaller voice, “it’s very kind of you.”

You interviewed him and learned not just about his life, but the hushed up history of the mission to Homestead II. Julian relayed how he was first advised to take a demotion, and after the company was almost bought out by some deranged South African autocrat rich off his parents’ blood diamond legacy, suddenly the old crew were no longer eligible. He also detailed the many months of solitude, replete with a vacillating mental state and copious misadventures. Although he didn’t pity himself or linger on the details, he was candid and you felt comfortable asking whatever question came into your head.

“And do you think you’ve, for lack of a better word, resigned yourself to this situation?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes as you asked that. You were too conflicted and that look would surely hurt him to see.

“I’m not entirely sure. A lot can happen in a day, let alone a year or a decade. So I can’t say I’m resigned. But I understand how it can seem that way to you,” he said kindly and waited until you looked back at him. “You don’t have to accept any of this. You’ve just woken up. It must be irreconcilable and unthinkable to you now—”

You shook your head. “I’m scared of accepting it, and doing it so effortlessly. It’s actually so much easier to give in than I anticipated. I expected... I had more fight in me than that.”

He leaned in closer, moving with urgency. “It’s not ab-,” he started passionately, but then rephrased, “I don’t’ think it’s about being brave or strong. You also need to see sense and recognize reality. And you seem to be… scarily good at that.”

You gave a bitter laugh. “Reality is something I can’t wrap my head around. To be traveling, until the end of my natural lifespan – which is effectively forever – and never arriving. I’ve never… conceptualized futility on such a stark level.”

Julian let the angst hang in the air, giving it the respect it demanded. Then he sighed and tried to approach you from another angle. “A wise android once told me that you shouldn’t get so hung up on where you’d rather be and squander the chance to enjoy where you are.”

You pursed your lips and considered.

“I’m sure it sounds like a platitude now, but it’s helped me in some ways over time.” Julian didn’t press for any answer or acceptance out of you, placidly returning to his work and sitting with you in companionable silence.

“Thank you,” you said after a while.

“What for?” he scoffed, sounding amused.

“For everything,” you didn’t want to embarrass him and enumerate all the small kindnesses and comforts he had provided to you as you woke up and realized the situation you were in.

It was obvious in his expression he did not think he had helped much. You hoped to change his mind. With any luck, he wouldn’t begrudge you avoiding him earlier.

“I should meet this Clyde,” you shifted to brighter topics, “he sounds like a character.” You had yet to meet the android bartender. Drinking or sitting in some simulacrum of a bar didn’t sound very appealing before, but you might as well check out more of the ship, you reasoned.

“Let’s go for a drink tonight, then,” Julian floated the idea. You couldn’t tell if he really was as nonchalant as he seemed, or if his eyes were trained on the object in his hands strategically, to give off that appearance.

You decided he probably wasn’t thinking of it as a date, but you could still feel the intent of him, filling the space around you. His presence, heavy and commanding, even when he didn’t mean to exert it over you.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you responded, suddenly preoccupied with your pad. You thought you felt him steal a glance as you looked away and it took great effort not to smile to yourself.

*

In her absence, Mills had noticed one of the little roombas repeatedly run into a corner as he walked by it on one of those lonely days. He didn’t think much of it. Its sensor could have broken or he himself could have been fucking with it too much out of sheer boredom that it somehow malfunctioned. After pondering whether he should bother trying to repair it, he decided not to since there were enough of those critters crawling around.

As they walked towards their cabins, through one of the pod rooms, he noticed two roombas rolling on as normal and was satisfied with his earlier decision.

“So now that all of this happened, do you still think sending large numbers of people on such missions is a good idea?” she probed. He was thinking about the same thing, watching them clustered together in their life-sustaining coffins.

“I think they would say yes,” he evaded the question, “you can’t categorize people into yes’s or no’s, ones and zeroes.”

“Homestead can. Into zeroes in its account.”

“I don’t dispute that. But you can’t know all these 5,000 people and their reasons to participate. Some of them could be very good.”

“Maybe so, but I know people at large really well. And I’m good at seeing when they’re being exploited.”

“But what about who they are? What drove them to be here? This guy?” he picked out a familiar face. “Can you tell anything about him? Is he a banker, teacher, or gardener?” he asked playfully and she accepted the challenge, peering over the lid.

He looked stern, with defined, robust features, austere even in repose. “Banker,” she guessed as he thought she would.

“Gardener.”

She frowned. “Probably gardens some gnarly, mean looking plants.”

“Madison, Donna, or Lola?” he covered the information plate on another pod and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Donna. That fits a redhead.”

“Madison.”

“No way!” she peeled his hand off and checked her name. It was true. Mills was grateful she took some time to look on, taking in her face and reading the information about her because he was still reeling from feeling her skin on his again. “Midwife,” she said wistfully and her face fell. “Right. Some babies are bound to be born up there.”

He could feel them both carefully avoid the other’s eyes. Babymaking was an unhelpful thought to linger on just then. “Another sucker selling a useful profession?” he guessed at her thoughts.

“No. I mean, yes, it’s useful. But I was just thinking… It’s silly. But it occurred to me how we probably would have been friends.”

“You think you can tell these things?” Mills asked, living and dying a hundred times in the space it took her to respond.

“Of course. You know these things instinctively. Call it what you want, intuition, ancestral wisdom, something you carry in your bones. We’re still humans, even if we’ve soared among the stars. We’d gravitate to each other,” she concluded and he felt lightheaded. “Besides, my grade school best friend was also named Madison,” she shrugged, “it would have been an easy point in her favor,” she tossed a smile over her shoulder and moved to keep going, but a glance to the pod next to Madison’s rooted her to the spot. He almost bumped into her and felt a cold sweat dew on his skin at the idea of touching so much of her body with so much of his.

“Alicia,” Mills sounded out her name. A-lee-see-a, he pronounced it in the correct Spanish way.

“I know her. She had a rather severe change of heart and wanted to stay back,” she double checked her information just to be sure.

“Why didn’t she?”

“I‘m not sure. I lobbied for her contract to be voided and for someone to be taken off the waiting list and take her place. But they decided not to for some reason.”

“Or she decided.”

“I don’t know… She seemed pretty adamant from what I’ve seen,” she huffed, still bothered by the situation. “It doesn’t seem right, you know? To make that decision for her. Force her into something she didn’t want.”

“It doesn’t,” he agreed and crossed his arms over his massive chest, determined not to fan the guilt her words ignited.

“You’d know all about that,” she muttered.

His heart stopped. “What?” he felt his shame was written plainly on his face when she turned to him.

“With your pod malfunctioning and having to deal with it alone for so long. It’s the last thing you wanted. At least she’s asleep.”

She sensed he didn’t want to talk about it, and he let her fall quiet. Then she rubbed his arms in support and he felt even worse.

*

Mills was already waiting at the bar when she came around the corner. The still unfamiliar rhythm of her steps as they approached through the Grand Concourse folded a thousand origami cranes in his gut and they all soared, pulling his heavy body with their flight as he turned to look at her.

She had on a simple outfit of black turtleneck and high-waisted checked skirt, with a pair of what his onetime fiancée would refer to as sensible heels. She was breath-taking.

He smiled as he got up to greet her, like a proper gentleman, and offered his hand to help her hop up onto the stool. “You look wonderful,” he tried not to sound licentious and make things awkward.

If she was flustered, she didn’t show it too badly. “Well, I packed this. I thought I might as well wear it.”

“Sure,” he nodded slyly. He wasn’t about to let her reject the compliment. “And you look wonderful in it.”

Finally, she relented and tried not to smile too broadly. “Thank you. You both look very handsome,” she glanced from him to Clyde with a hint of humor in her voice.

“Clyde’s a sharp dresser for sure,” Mills joined in and Clyde accepted the compliment.

For a time, Clyde was prompted to recount some of Mills’ notable misadventures over the last two years, including his nudist period, his Rasputin phase, and the mini Olympics he staged with the roombas. When the laughter died down, what swam to the surface was the awareness that all of these stories took place owing to his unfortunate circumstances. He felt both himself and his awoken girl beset with a feeling of emptiness.

Mills looked over at her and she let him look for a long moment. “I can’t think about all of this anymore, Julian,” she sighed and his name on her lips felt like a kiss as it floated to him. “I’m hitting the same walls a thousand times… It’s too sad.”

“Let’s not talk about it for a while, then?” he leapt at the suggestion and offered his hand in a deal.

She gave his eagerness a smile and took his hand. When she shook on it and squeezed, it was confident. “Just… be my neighbor,” she asked amicably.

Mills nodded to himself, considering. Still holding her hand, he leaned over the bar and Clyde came close to hear him.

The song that was playing on the jukebox scratched to a halt and after a few beats of silence, a new, familiar melody tinkled its lullaby tune on a glockenspiel. Then a marimba filled out the tinny sounds and a piano joined smoothly.

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood, the song started and she bent over with a laugh.

A beautiful day for a neighbor, the sweet voice went on and Mills tugged on her hand, inviting her to dance.

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

She relented and followed him a few steps away from the bar. He placed a hand in a respectful, neighborly spot on her waist, and she did the same, on his shoulder.

It's a neighborly day in this beautywood

A neighborly day for a beauty

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

They swayed together to the melody that was equally as sad as it was sweet. It fit the mood better than anything he could have planned for in advance.

I have always wanted to have a neighbor, just, like, you, she tap-tap-tapped to the beat into his chest with her index finger and he watched her fondly.

I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you, he mouthed the line, watching from her eyes to her lips, down her neck, and then he hit the brakes, before he got too un-neighborly.

So, let's make the most of this beautiful day,

Since we're together, we might as well say,

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

Won't you be my neighbor?

Even Clyde tore his eyes away from his little glass as they danced, recognizing the image before him as one of classic, universal romance.

*

@thegrislady @safarigirlsp @lumberjack00fantasies @queeniebee @vedavan @house-of-cadwyn

[hamsterbellbelle]

Additional CC list for Evergreen Family Home🎦:

A.I. mirror/TV || Appliances tower/microwave/fridge/cabinet || Bar cart/beach ball/lounge chair/cooler || Bathroom counter || Bench (bedroom) || Blinds || Bookcase || Books/ Tablet PC || Books/wall lamp || Books - A - B - C - D || Bowls || Bread box ||

Card wallet || Ceiling light/outdoor table/calendar || Ceiling light || Ceiling/Floor || Chair with clothes || Coat stand || Coffee table || Computer || Conduit || Cookie (deco) || Corkboard/file holder || Cup stand/trays/kitchen rack || Curtain ||

Doors/archway || Doors || Drain || Drink crate || Entrance sign || Floor || Folded clothes || Folders/papers || Hamper (deco) || Hamper (functional) || Hamster bedding || Hamster cage/hamster cleaning tools/pet food || Handbag || Inflatable pool || Intercom ||

Kids bed/bedroom items/toys/bookshelf || Kids drawings || Kitchen trashcan || Ladder/paint can/tool box || Loveseat || Magazine || Mirror || Mirror || Paint bucket || Pet toy bin || Plant pots || Plants/dining chairs/chair with bag || Plants - A - B - C - D - E || Pots || Pouf ||

Radio || Rug (bathroom) || Rug (kitchen) || Shoes (boots)/umbrella basket/wall frames || Shoes (sandals) || Shoes/coat rack || Shoes/wall phone || Shoes || Side table (living room) || Side table (outdoor) || Sink (bathroom)/bathroom clutter/toilet paper || Sink (kitchen) || Stationery mug || Suitcases || Surge plug ||

Tissue box || Towel || Toy (bear) || Toy (unicorn) || Toys (frog) || Toy/box || TV || Wall bicycle/CD player || Wall boiler || Wall photo || Wall shelf || Wall stickers || Wallpaper/hair dryer || Washing machine/laundry items/ironing board || Water jug/paper bag || Wine bottle || XBOX One S ||

🐹             🐹             🐹             🐹             🐹

Animated magazine || Animated Maneki Neko || Archway || Suitcase || Wire ||

[timeskip]

Deleting this scene from a fic WIP so you get it ^-^ (no character death here, but it is discussed)

---

Killua clutches his wound. His eyes flutter closed, the back of his head leaning gently against the rubble.

“Killua,” Palm says softly. “Stay awake.”

“So annoying,” Killua says, just to bother her, but cracks open his eyes to see her face. Her hair has retreated, so instead he stares at that strange crystal ball on her forehead. “I’m probably going to die—you know that, right?”

Palm winces. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice wavering.

“It’s—” Killua waits until the wave of pain recedes before he keeps speaking. “It’s not your fault. It was that ant behind you, right? I could tell something was—was different. About you.”

Was it this obvious when he broke through Illumi’s control? He thinks about needles and blood, about his brother’s fearsome aura. The ant had a pretty nasty aura too. Killua feels like vomiting just thinking about it—or maybe it’s the injury again, slowing his ability to process things.

“Yes, Pouf was controlling me,” Palm says. “But I broke free because of you. Let me save you. Let me repair what I’ve done; I can stop the bleeding and take you to safety.”

Killua weighs his options. He thinks about himself, about his wound, about the slow building dread in his bones. There’s so much more he could do for Gon now. He’d told Meleoron that he might die with Gon, and now he won’t be able to.

More than his death itself, that’s what hurts. He can’t stop the beginning of tears from leaking from his eyes.

“You should help Gon,” Killua says, pushing himself up against the wall. He might crumple at any moment, unstable feelings flowing through him. He swallows down any self preservation instincts that remain. “I was serious—he’ll definitely feel better if he knows you’re okay. And—and with how things are going, he’s going to die, and it’ll all be my fault.”

He wants to at least leave help for Gon. Something will be left behind.

“I’m saving you,” Palm hisses. “I can help Gon afterward. Pouf was using me to get closer to him, and I’m not going to put him in danger now by messing with his emotions. Right now you’re what’s important—Gon would agree.”

Killua sucks in a breath. “He wouldn’t.”

“He would.”

Killua had thought that all his tears were used up, falling onto the floor at his knees before Palm had injured him. Now, Palm grips at his arm to help him stay upright, and Killua truly feels like this is the end, tears he didn’t know he had in him soaking his cheeks. “Gon is focused on Pitou. There’s no room for me in there.”

Palm just shakes her head.

The next thing Killua knows, she’s wrapped him up in her hair and he can’t move. He can’t even struggle to free himself, to try to get to Gon—what would Gon think, watching Killua die in front of him? That he wasn’t as useful as he thought he would be?

Killua cries against Palm’s back. He doesn’t know if they can save him when he gets to safety—maybe the last thing he’ll ever see of Gon is his back, sitting next to Pitou.

He gladly would’ve died for Gon. Right now, he supposes he almost has.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Tarot Assignment: Palm Siberia

Oh man, I found her really tricky. Essentially, you're dealing with two different versions of her at different points in the story - her erratic and obsessive human self, and her post-transformation self, where she is much more grounded and rational. I did my best to try to account for as much of Palm's personality as I could.

Seven of Cups: This card is the card of fantasy, wishful thinking and conflicting choices. It indicates that your actions may be guided by illusions that you are telling yourself. There is no card that necessarily focuses on obsession or admiration, but I think this card taps into that side of Palm - that she seems to be more obsessed with this fantasy of a romance with people she admires than the reality. On that line of thought, it usually signifies that one must make the decision to come back to reality, and find clarity for themselves, which does remind me of reborn Palm's taking control back from Pouf and being quite grounded after the fact.

High Priestess: Palm's entire ability is based around clairvoyance and sight, with the use of a crystal ball, and her ant form even having what is reminiscent of a third eye. The High Priestess is the card of intuition, spirituality, and the power of inner knowledge - she speaks of self-growth, and of acting on good instincts. Palm is the extermination team's insider, both as a spy and when using Wink Blue - it's her use of the mentioned ability that allows her to keep tabs on what is going on during the palace invasion. She also tends to have a pretty good sense for what people's motives and intentions are - she's spot on, especially as the Chimera Ant arc nears its close.

Queen of Wands (reversed): This card represents a person who is very passionate and driven in pursuing what they want, but when reversed, it takes on a more demanding, less confident, and much more jealous and temperamental disposition. Sounds... sounds like Palm. Lol. However, regardless of if this card is upright or reversed, it symbolizes knowledge of feelings and motivations, and can often mean using said knowledge to assist those who might need your help or advice. And, well, it was Palm who told Killua what he really needed to hear, huh?

[takeyourcyanide]

Бесконечный ад

(Requested by @pharyngoscopy-pouf)

This took longer than I had planned, as I’m currently very ill. I hope this is all right!

Summary: Stein has multiple back-to-back strange dreams/nightmares. He wakes up feeling entirely paranoid and even hallucinates at times.

Word count: 1 395

……

‘Why don’t I feel any guilt?’ Stein thoughtfully questioned his very own brain as he stood above the hollowed out body of a stranger. His hands were entirely bloodstained, as was the shining scalpel he held in his right hand. ‘Why am I not like them? Should I imitate them?’

He peered around the obnoxiously colorful kindergarten classroom he was in. Despite the young demographic, his thirteen to 18 year old classmates, including Spirit, Marie, Azusa, Sid, Joe, and Nygus, were all sitting together at one rectangular cafeteria table.

They were laughing heartily, their eyes crinkling with joy. Their expressions were of a loving emotion, a warm feeling. And despite the warmth supposedly filling the room, Stein had never felt colder.

He walked up to the group, bloody and empty. He sat next to Azusa on the very end. “Как дела?” She asked, glancing down at him with a grimace.

“Хорошо,” Stein answered, and Azusa believed him even despite his visibly upset expression.

The table quickly grew quieter and quieter the longer he lingered. He decided to leave soon after, recognizing that he was clearly not welcome.

He stood from the table, making his way to a door of which he presumed to be the exit. He placed his unclean hand upon the handle, bloodying it, too. He seemed to bloody all that he came across. Even knowing so, he did not feel guilty, which was obviously why he was not welcome.

He opened the door, walking into what was apparently his bedroom, crawling under his cozy covers and lying there, allowing himself to be absorbed by the darkness of the sudden night.

He stared up at the grey ceiling, eyes sad with the fact that he could never satiate his curiosity pertaining to human relationships. Relationships required true, genuine connection. Not superficial pseudo-connections.

A black cat with luminous green eyes appeared before him, floating at his side. He looked over, questioning its intentions. And similarly to one of those odd feline clocks, the cat pointed towards the side of the bed opposite to itself. Stein glanced over, curious and confused. When the cat noticed how he could evidently not see what it was seeing, it telepathically retrieved Stein’s cellphone, snapping a photo of the side of the bed, turning the phone and showing Stein.

In the picture was the same boy he had seen previously in other places, peeking over his bed creepily, his hands on his blankets. The male was basked in shadows, only making him appear more off-putting.

Stein rushed out of bed, running out of his house entirely, only to be met with the shining daylight as if it wasn’t just nighttime.

The boy stared at him intently through his bedroom window, Stein running as far away as possible.

He had ran to the other side of the street, panting as he doubled over.

“You cannot run from me,” a deep, gritty voice sounded behind him. He whipped around, eyes widening as he stared at the demon before him and the shadows which followed him.

“Nor can you hide,” he continued. “When will you realize that I am you and you are me?”

…

Steins eyelids separated briefly, desperately trying to leave his treacherous dream world. The world around him appeared blurry and almost indiscernible. He groggily groaned, forcing his eyes open taking all of his energy.

His exhausted head only fell deeper into the pillow, despite his rampant protests.

…

Stein found himself in the sunlight-filled world of nowhere at all, a suburban street in front of him. Upon the street, a blonde woman with a bob and who Stein assumed was her young son were playing catch, repeatedly tossing a ball back and forth to one another. It was quite domestic, sounding awfully sweet. What was odd though, however, was the fact that there were multiple ‘copies’ of them flooding down the street. Not to mention, their horrifically large, non-faltering smiles.

Stein bolted down the street, hoping to find anything beyond the mother and her child. It was the same thing over and over again.

He stopped, turning to one of the thousand copies of the two, kicking down the mother. Her body fell out of his view, only to pop back up like an inflatable tube man, as she said, “That wasn’t very nice,” with the same bone-chilling grin. She shook her head back and forth in a parental manner whilst saying that.

After flashing her an odd expression, he heard the sounds of heavy, fast footsteps beside him. He peered over. The same demon has followed him. The same demon was running after him, feet stomping craters into the sidewalk.

…

Stein was jolted awake with a gasp, right before the boy could harm him, his body hot and even a little sweaty. He threw his blanket off of him, body missing the comfort it offered, but rejecting the heat.

He caught his breath, recalling the dreams he had just had. One thing about Stein was that he typically never forgot his dreams.

As he thought back to the events of what was supposed to be his rest, he scanned his room, paranoid and curious. Something within him, no matter how much he told himself otherwise, believed there was always at least one other individual present in his room with him at all times.

His room was almost pitch black, only being illuminated by the moonlight greeting him through the window, a small nightlight, and a bright alarm clock. The little light was in the shape of a bolt, the numbers on the clock a luminous red.

Said numbers read ‘4:37 AM.’

The shadowy entanglement surrounding his body only served to increase the paranoia boiling inside of him by a tenfold, his eyes erratically moving all about in every direction.

He could practically feel the breath of another on his neck, the hands of another grasping him, the voice of another whispering in his ear. And when he could not feel or hear such things, he did nothing but wait for the time he would surely do as such.

He rocked himself, gripping at his hair and tugging. It stung, but the crippling feeling was only worsening as he began to wonder whether or not someone was outside of his window, or if there were hidden cameras in the apartment - perhaps even set up by Spirit himself!

But the couldn’t be true, could it?

He was so incredibly tired of having one foot stuck in everyone else’s reality, and one foot stuck in his own.

The rocking grew more and more in speed and intensity, causing the bed below him to creak with fervor. He thought back to woman’s horrendous and hideous smile, thoughtfully questioning what sort of meaning her place in his subconscious may hold. He, then, thought back to the body he pleasurably stood above, entirely void of guilt.

A pout formed on his lips, as a small twinge of an emotion he seldom experienced formed into a ball in his throat;

Self-loathing.

It wasn’t even because of how different he was in comparison to his peers - no, not at all. It was because everything about himself created nothing but an endless hell, of which he was banished to live in the moment he crawled out of his mother’s womb.

The moment a sense of life was breathed into his fragile body.

“Stein,” a deep, gritty voice bellowed out into the shadows, startling the meister out of his stupor. He ceased his rocking motion, glancing around his room wildly. That voice certainly did not belong to the whiny and sassy Spirit.

‘I must be hallucinating,’ he thought to himself, resuming his rocking.

As he continued, he fought the closing of his heavy eyelids, as he did not wish to return to the oddities within his dreams.

He moved his head to rest upon his knees, not a very comfortable position by any means, but it would have to do.

He glanced around his room once more, scanning every square inch of it. He could feel the presence of someone, he knew someone had to be in there, even if there was no one at all. It was simply a lingering, tingling sensation in the horrendous recesses of his brain.

And he pleaded, with whatever was never there in the first place, that it would just go away.

[bluepallilworld]

How about Palette 19 for Pif? (+Pouf too only if you're up to it)

Thanks for asking for the fur balls! Been years since last time I drew them!!!

[fanfic-collection]

Prisoner: Loki x Reader - 4

minor violence. Please and thank you so much everyone who commented

-

“How could you?!” Thought snarled, rushing over and grabbing your throat. She slammed your head into the pouf covered ground. Which luckily deadened some of the blow.

Jot grabbed Thought and pulled her off of you.

You blinked, groaning as you gathered your senses.

“Thought! No!” Jot yelled, holding the furious woman back. “He could’ve taken any of us at any time. She’s not the enemy. He is!”

Tears streamed down Thought’s face and she pulled away again. This time she made her way to the far end of the circle and curled in a ball, silently crying.

Jot looked at you sympathetically but you could sense the accusatory glint in her eyes.

“I had no idea…” You whispered, trailing off. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t change anything!” Thought snarled again, sitting up.

You flinched, curling back. Standing up, you made your way from the pouf and sat on the stairs into the pool.

The water felt cold, despite the warm steam rising from it. Perhaps it was the cold horror in your heart.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and hung your head. To add to the humiliation of it, the chain ran the length of the room back to the green pouf.

The side door opened and Relt and Gelt walked back out, resuming their positions. Gelt’s eyes were red from unshed tears while Relt stared stoically ahead. Gelt stole a glance at the huddle of women.

You moved further into the water, willing it to rise up and drown you. The thought crossed your mind to allow it. But you would not, you were a fighter and you would not let them win.

The windows in the room were high on the walls. When it became dark, Relt and Gelt stepped down from their watch. They grabbed their own pillows and laying down on the hard floor, attempted to fall asleep.

The room filled with the soft, steady breathing of sleeping people.

Save for you.

You sat there, mind racing.

Was Thought right? Had you really caused whatever horrors now befell Wat?

You must have fallen asleep, for when you woke, you were on the edge of the pool, head on a pillow.

-

The next few days passed in a blur.

The women mostly ignored you. Relt and Gelt always stood at attention.

Some of the women played instruments that were scattered around the room. Others worked together on embroidery or fancy clothing. It would be beautiful, listening to the music; if it weren’t for the collar around your neck reminding you of your imprisonment.

Time passed in lurches. Sometimes it would take hours for a single minute to pass. Other times nighttime became day time in a blur.

You lost track of how long you had been in this place. Eating when necessary, sleeping when you grew tired, nothing really of note happened. Loki did not show up for some time either.

Until he did.

Loki sat on the chaise lounge, watching the women work on their activities. Seeing their movements as they worked seemed to entertain or even lull the high general.

You swam across the pool as fast as you could. Loki’s attention slowly turned from the others and fell on you as you reached the step.

The chain ran the length of the pool now, having slid along to follow you. It seemed to grow and shrink at his will. You could never tell when you had freedom or not.

But here and now, you stepped onto the curved platform that led up to the dais. Kneeling down, hair falling in your face, you pleaded, “Most gracious one.” You started.

Loki rested his chin on his fist, staring down at you.

“Please. I offer my life in exchange for Wat. Please forgive her. It was my intrusion.” Your voice shook as you tried to retain your resolve.

Loki rolled his eyes and crouched down, tilting your chin up. “Precious.” He murmured, searching your face. “You are so sincere, too.”

The other women had faltered in their activities, watching the exchange with mixed emotions.

You swallowed hard. “Please.”

“You amuse me, little one.” He seemed to have found what he was looking for in your expression. “There are those who cannot be broken of their own volition. You should know, there are things worse than pain or death. I can tell, you are the sort that will not submit easily. You will come to me on your knees, begging for my grace. And in the meantime, your predecessor is no more. She is gone.”

There were a few sharp gasps around the room. You could hear Thought crying softly.

Still you maintained his gaze. You would not break, you could not break. And yet.

Your shoulders slumped. “Please, allow me to submit to you.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Loki looked at Relt and Gelt and nodded in turn to each of them. You did not look away, silently pleading.

“Mot, Fot.” Loki jerked his chin.

Gelt and Relt did not pause, walking over and dragging each woman by the arm.

Loki pulled his hand back and straightened up. With one long finger he beckoned the four to follow him.

No one looked back as they vanished into the side door.

Thought let out a long, low wail. Jot and Dot hurried to her side, squeezing her shoulder and trying to comfort her.

You stayed in the water, head down, and waited.

Relt and Gelt returned at dusk. Both of them had red eyes. Gelt had a red gash on his cheek, still smarting but they looked passive as they resumed their posts.

Dot walked over to the edge of the water. She offered you her hand. “It’s not your fault.” She whispered.

You took her hand gratefully and allowed her to help tug you from the water.

Jot smiled at you when you approached the pouf. Thought kept her back to you, curled up with the three pillows of the banished women.

“I tried.” You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” Jot whispered, she handed you a pillow and you allowed yourself to lay down amongst them.

You stared at the opulent ceiling, seeing nothing as your mind wandered.

-

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months.

And then one day, Dot began to show.

She could no longer hide the baby bump. When Loki visited, his eyes would rove over each one of you, taking in your figure.

Dot, Thought, and Jot attended to him as he desired. Often during carnal acts, he would have you stand and watch. He seemed to be teasing you, curious how you might react.

You stared at them listlessly, beaten, broken, unwilling to let the others suffer more because of you.

Loki had his fun before walking over to you and lifting your chin. He tilted his head as he studied you. “Do you hate me?”

You shook your head methodically.

“Do not lie.”

“I feel nothing for you.”

Loki nodded slowly. “Then come.”

Jot opened and closed her mouth, too frightened to say anything. Dot hid behind her pillow.

Thought, for her credit, had the decency to look concerned. But you could see the satisfaction in her eyes.

The chain that was connected to your throat, snaked its way along the ground, attaching your wrist cuffs together and wrapping around your legs that you would not be able to run.

You followed him dutifully, surprised that Relt and Gelt were not called to be a part of it.

The side door stood imposing, closed, dark and looming. It opened and you could not see the room within, but Loki pushed you in.

The doors shut behind you and you could only wonder what horrors lay in store.

[ultraericthered]

Anime Update V3 18

From Me To You - Sawako deciding to be more forthcoming about her crush on Kazehaya makes Kurumi finally drop the facade and let her true colors show, and Kayli Mills handled the moment of the shift so well that it's all the more disappointing to hear her revert back to the cutesy voice she was doing before. She really needed to start voicing Kurumi more like Gray and less like Emilia, but I blame the voice direction for this. Damn if she and Sawako still don't have terrific chemistry with each other, though. Even with Kurumi no longer pretending to be nice or on Sawako's side, Sawako just seems to like her too much to stay away, and the two of them just sit and watch baseball together. When Ryu, who's incidentally gone through a lot of practice just to get Sawako's full name memorized, catches a fly ball headed towards Sawako, Kurumi gets some new, devious ideas.

Hunter x Hunter - Fight with the Chimera Ants still in progress. Pouf was able to get the directions to Meruem from Pitou without the latter blowing the cover in front of Gon, Youpi managed to evolve further and bring his opponents down but has developed honor and mercy enough to spare them out of respect, and the long-anticipated fight between Netero and Meruem has finally begun, with Meruem expressing his newfound desire to take over the world of humans in order to remake it into a more just one where the "worthy" weak people are raised up and those who abuse their power are removed from society. He's come quite a long way as a king, and it's largely thanks to his bond with Komugi. But Netero is still here for a fight and to kill the Ant King once and for all, and he offers a tempting prize to claim from him - the revelation of Meruem's name to him!

SHUFFLE! - After much reflection on where he's gone wrong and how he and Kaede have not been very good for each other in years, Rin comes to the decision that it's best if he moves out of the house and finds somewhere else so that he and Kaede can become independent of each other. As you'd expect, Kaede doesn't take that well, but given that she'd earlier been in the mood to attempt sexual assault on Rin (yes, for real), it's understandable why Rin doesn't feel at home in such a great house anymore. Soon after Asa has been released from the hospital, Primula finds Kaede's gone missing from home. While wandering, Kaede meets Asa and they have a nice talk about their feelings for Rin, the ugly history Rin and Kaede share, and what's really been motivating Kaede in her caretaker lifestyle. Rin's now made the love he has for Asa known to Kaedea and to Asa herself, so in three more episodes, where do we have to go?

The Case Files of Lord El-Melloi II - Wrapped up the anime with the OVA set at Christmastime that has Waver de-aged through some magic photography shit that alters his self-perception and how he's percieved by others so that he's young again. The biggest takeaway from it is that Waver's original voice absolutely SUCKS when he's trying to sound funny or emotive. Give me back Lucien Dodge plz?

KonoSuba - Saw Part 2 of the Axis Church story. Just about done!

K-On! - After school festival antics and more of Mio grappling with her stage firght, Ritsu holds a mock concert introduction of the Light Music Club band members to calm Mio's nerves. She still has jitters when the real concert starts, she and Yui both manage to perform successfully...at least until at the very end, Mio trips over the guitar cable and accidentally exposes her panties to the crowd, which was just relentlessly mean but hey, it's actually gained her a fan club!

Eureka Seven - I was calling bullshit on Holland suriving getting seemingly blown up by Anemone and The-END, but I replayed the moment and technically, the part of the mech he was in didn't get blown up when it came apart. Renton, Eureka, and the three kids made it beyond the Great Wall and into the hidden Promised Land, which turns out to be an island on an abandoned Earth. Earlier, there was a talk between Dominic and Anemone that didn't end very well and set things up for a huge misunderstanding to come. But the thing that stood out most in what I watched was Dewey revealing his backstory to Anemone as they had their creepy ballroom dance, and along with it, his true ambitions came to light. Dewey curses the blood of his family line that he inherited, the very blood he spilt when he committed patricide while attempting the King's Ritual, because the ritual's failure and his family's resulting fall into poverty led him to viewing the "sacrificial king" role of his family to be a sham, and he hates the Scub Coral and the very planet itself for how it seemed to condemn him as unworthy, and he was always envious of his younger brother Holland for having been the preferred heir. What Dewey hopes to achieve is to "purge" the Novak blood from him and take vengeance upon the Coral-controlled planet by erradicating all natural life on it and remaking the entire planet, and all of human civilization w/ all humans, institutions, etc. along with it, into an everlasting extension of his legacy as the "true king" he'd become. He would do that even if it meant the Scub Coral reaching the Limit Of Questions and the resulting erradication of natural life decimating the entire planet and wiping out or poisoning humanity. It's neither hatred nor warped altruism that drives him the most, it's pride. And he even has the audacity to claim he's been "all on his own" since that fateful day even when we can see his brother was right there with him. The man's like a Benjamin Netanyahu with better publicity, and that makes him very dangerous. Someone get Anemone and all those kids in the Ageha Squad away from him! Anyone? Dominic?

Air - After Minagi and her mother are finally able to embrace each other as parent and child again, Michiru is invited to eat at Minagi's house with Yukito, Minagi, and her mother, and at first I thought that since Michiru was a manifested dream, only Minagi and Yukito were able to see her, but she apparently is visible and audible to anyone, and she's not even purely a dream - she actually came from the sky and has been helping Minagi's dreams in hopes of awakening a friend of her's from her own bad dreams she's plagued by. Having fulfilled her purpose, Michiru says her goodybes and vanishes with the fireworks that night. The next day sees Yukito return to Misuzu's house only to find her collapsed on the floor. What's happened!?

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode illustrée, no. 46, 12 novembre 1882, Paris. Toilettes de Mme Bréant-Castel, 6 rue Gluck. Collection of the Rijksmuesum, Netherlands

Description de toilettes (Bibliothèque Forney):

Toilette de voyage et du matin. Robe en léger drap gris souris. Jupe courte plissée perpendiculairement. Corsage à pointe à très-petites basques, découpées en rond, sous lesquelles se drapept des paniers bordés d'une frange à boules en laine de même ton. Sous ces paniers se rattache une longue draperie qui se séparé des paniers et se rattache au pouf par derrière. Chapeau Charles IX en feutre gris, garni de plumes grises ombrées. Gants en peau de Suède, très longs, renfermant le bord inférieur de la manche.

Travel and morning ensemble. Dress in light mouse gray cloth. Short perpendicularly pleated skirt. Pointed bodice with very small basques, cut in the round, under which are draped baskets edged with a fringe with balls of wool of the same tone. Beneath these baskets is attached a long drapery which separates from the baskets and attaches to the pouf from behind. Charles IX hat in gray felt, trimmed with shaded gray feathers. Suede gloves, very long, enclosing the lower edge of the sleeve.

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Toilette de visite. Jupe ronde en satin turc gros vert, plissé perpendiculairement. Sur cette jupe retombent trois panneaux en damassé gros vert, à fleurettes rouge foncé. Ces panneaux s'écartent pour laisser voir les plis de la jupe. Ils sont bordés d'un liséré rouge foncé et reliés entre eux par des nœuds de ruban étroit rouge foncé et gros vert. Pouf en damassé. Veste en même damassé, avec gilet en satin gros vert uni. Toque en peluche gros vert garnie de plumes gros vert mouchetées de rouge foncé. Gants en peau de Suède très longs renfermant la manche.

Visiting ensemble. Round skirt in coarse green Turkish satin, pleated perpendicularly. On this skirt fall three panels in green damask, with dark red flowers. These panels move apart to reveal the pleats of the skirt. They are bordered with a dark red border and linked together by knots of narrow dark red and large green ribbon. Damask pouf. Jacket in the same damask, with waistcoat in solid green chunky satin. Big green plush toque trimmed with big green feathers speckled with dark red. Very long suede gloves enclosing the sleeve.

[kmgquote]

Bath Loofah Sponge Body Scrubber Shower Sponge Exfoliating Mesh Pouf Shower Ball Bath Sponges for Women and Men Bathing Accessories (4Pack 50G Colorful)

ZAR 114.82 ZAR 257.43 Shipping & Import Charges to South Africa https://amzn.to/3KLxCOY Material – Loofah Color  Colorful Brand- Farmoga Style – 4Pack 50G Colorful Item Form – Loofah About this item IMPORTANT! – These loofahs sponges are vacuum sealed to ensure maximum cleanliness and hygiene.It will return to normal shape after using it once or twice. Premium Quality fine mesh creates…

[cephalopizza]

Ripped back a good 8-9 rounds of my "stashbuster", "no mistakes just happy accidents" ottoman/pouf because I wasn't happy with the color placement. Four balls of yarn rewound.

[mindymaerenee]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Genuine Mink Fur Round Ball Pouf Accent Throw Pillow Gray Taupe.