#grey marble table lamp

[surehomedecor01]

Home Decor Stores in USA

Sure Home Décor is one of the Home decor stores in the USA. Here, you will find a accurately picked Home Décor pieces. All our pieces work well together within our Collections and can also be integrated with other home décor pieces.

[justimajin]

House of the Haunted

Genre: Fluff & Comedy

↳ 3.5k / Supernatural AU (inspired from Hotel Transylvania)

[Includes: Vampire! Yoongi, Werewolf! Jungkook, Ghost! Namjoon, Demon! Jimin, Angel! Hoseok, Warlock! Taehyung, Faerie! Seokjin, Human! Reader]

Summary: It's Halloween and the Council of the Haunted have convened together for a very important and highly classified discussion - there's a *whispers* human on the premises.

A/N: I was originally going to post this for Halloween, but it unfortunately got a bit delayed. It's just meant to be a fun story for spooks and laughs. Happy (Belated) Halloween! 🎃

The front door creaks open. 

The mansion is nothing short of grand, lined with expansive black marble floors and dark wooden walls. There are ebony crystals hanging down from the dimly lit chandelier, connected right above the old spiral staircase that’s decorated with small oil lamps. The wind ever so whistles against the grey murky windows, echoing through the emptiness of the haunting infrastructure. 

Amongst the different doors next to the staircase, only one is brightly lit. 

A tall man dressed in lavish purple robes shuffles forward, his eyes darting around. There’s a sudden change in the air, akin to a low draft he feels against his back that his keen senses pick up on right away. 

“Taehyung.” A voice whispers into the night and he swivels, robes cascading around him as he does. “You came.” 

His lips pull up into a cheeky smile, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

The transparent man before him gyrates around, his feet floating an inch off the ground.

“Follow me.” 

Taehyung obliges, trailing after him. 

“You know, Seokjin will be very pleased to see you too.” 

Taehyung deeply chuckles, fingertips absent-mindly playing with the mist that radiates out of them. “I’m sure he will be.” 

He’s led into a large dining room, the very one that is brightly lit. In the middle of it sits a long outstretched table that’s entirely covered with a black tablecloth and with candlelight decor. There are seven wooden chairs lining the table and accompanying, seven golden chalices. 

It’s a room he’s become very familiar with over the course of the last couple of months. Namely, ever since one fateful day when he was granted a hand-crafted invitation with intricate writing and symbols. At the time, he truthfully wasn’t quite sure to expect, or rather, who to expect. 

His answer came without another thought and it took the form of an old, but peculiarly cheery Faerie man – the very one seated at the head of the table and examining a chalice before him. 

“Warlock Kim Taehyung has arrived.” The voice booms into the room, making Seokjin look up. 

The Faerie man rises to his feet, addressing the transparent man. 

“Thank you, Namjoon.” He nods in confirmation, before wafting back into the breeze and exiting the room. 

Seokjin spins around with a big grin, “Taehyung!” 

“You haven’t changed a bit.” Taehyung remarks, giving the man a swift hug. “Though, your way of sending invites has gotten really interesting.” 

He twirls his fingers and a piece of paper emerges, landing in his hands. He envelopes it, eyes focused on the written words. “A call for all supernatural beings to meet, for the Council of the Haunted to convene once more for urgent matters–”

Taehyung snickers, “You write like you’re a hundred years old already.”

“I was trying to be formal!” Seokjin protests, irises glimmering with specks of pink. 

Taehyung raises a playful brow, “A Faerie trying to be courteous? Now that’s funny.” 

Seokjin shakes his head with a sigh, “Sit down, will you? I’m going to have more guests to tend to.” 

Taehyung non-chantently hums, eyeing the wine in the centre of the table with intrigue. The former Faerie hears more footsteps, and he hurriedly leaves the room altogether. 

Making his way to the front door, Seokjin is met with the sight of Namjoon surrounded by others. 

“Well, well, who do we have here?” He piques, mischievousness brimming in his voice.

Two men appear before him – contrasting like day and night. 

One of them has swept violet hair and dark ebony wings sticking out from his back. A dark red beam within his orbs and there’s a soft smile lingering on his lips. The other has a mop of brown hair and a pair of white wings. He holds a deep scowl, arms crossed and his blue eyes stern. 

“Demon Park Jimin and Angel Jung Hoseok have arrived.” Namjoon announces from behind, appearing a bit frazzled from the duo’s sudden appearance. 

“The Council of the Haunted, huh?” Hoseok remarks, “You haven’t called us here in ages.” 

Jimin peers around, “The decor is really nice, did you remodel the place?” 

Seokjin merely laughs, immediately engulfing the two into a hug. “It’s been a while, you two!” 

Hoseok grumbles and Jimin giggles. “Come on in! Taehyung’s already here.” 

He steps to the side, gesturing the two men forward. They enter the grand dining room with Namjoon’s assistance, taking spots at opposite sides of the table. 

Seokjin comes up behind Namjoon. “That makes three – who are we missing now?” 

“The vampire and werewolf.” Namjoon utters, grimacing a bit. “I was informed today was a full moon.” 

“Of course it is.” Seokjin sighs, glancing at his present guests. “We’ll have to wait a bit longer.” 

Taehyung raises his chalice of wine with a grin. “M’kay with me.” 

“Wait, I have to sit here longer?” Hoseok recoils, “With him?” 

Jimin sweetly smiles. “How interesting. I share the same sentiments.” 

The Faerie narrows his eyes, “Taehyung, that wine is supposed to be for everybody.” He turns to his ghostly friend, whispering underneath his breath. “Namjoon, can you make sure those two don’t cause a brawl on my dining table?” 

He immediately nods, effortlessly floating over to the table. Seokjin turns around with a huff, planting his hands against his waist. 

At this point, anyone who will arrive will be considered late. He should have considered this, knowing that some of his members simply had the tendency to be forgetful and– 

“Greetings.” 

His heart nearly jumps out of his chest at the low voice behind him, wide pink orbs coming into contact with a red-eyed man with midnight hair and long incisors sticking outside of his teeth. 

“Oh gosh–” Seokjin presses a hand against his heart, attempting to calm himself. “It’s just you, Yoongi.” He huffs, “For a moment, you had me scared there.” 

The vampire looks at him impassibly, “Sorry about that.” 

Seokjin shakes it off, “Don’t worry about it.” He stares at him intently, tilting his head to the side in amusement. “I didn’t think you would come. What changed your mind?” 

Yoongi seems to hesitate for a split-second, before mumbling the words. 

“You said there would be others here….I was curious.”

The corners of Seokjin’s mouth upturn and he watches as the vampire silently trails over to the dining table, carefully taking a seat amongst the table. He was really interesting – that was for sure. 

Suddenly, a howl breaks through and echoes into the walls of his home. He swivels around, just in time to catch the faintest blur of caramel brown fur. 

There’s an enormous wolf launching itself against him, practically pouncing onto the poor defenceless Faerie man before he has the chance to say anything. 

“Okay, okay, I get it!” He scolds, pushing him away. “Jungkook, get off of me!” 

The caramel brown wolf whines loudly, as if in utter protest. Seokjin deeply sighs, petting his head rather awkwardly. 

“There! You happy now?” 

The wolf seems to let out a pleased howl, before its paw hits against the marbled floor. Within a couple of seconds, its bones begin to crack and a young man with crinkled golden eyes and a huge bunny smile stares back at him. 

“Hi hyung!” He chuckles and Seokjin grins lop-sidley, “Thanks for inviting me.” 

“Thanks for coming, JK.” Seokjin turns to Namjoon, leading Jungkook in. “Everyone’s here!” 

Jungkook brightens up, “Namjoon! It’s so nice seeing you again.”

The ghost man stares back at him wide-eyed as Jungkook loudly cackles, throwing his head back. Seokjin ends up pushing at his shoulders to get him to sit down in one of the chairs. 

“Haha, veryy original.” He sarcastically retorts, moving to take his seat at the head of the table. Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook get seated on his right side, while Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi remain on the other. 

He ushers for everyone to raise their chalices. 

Seokjin clears his voice. “We have all gathered here today for a very important matter to discuss.”

Jungkook raises his hand, “Have you finally decided to remodel the meeting room to look less worse?” 

He scoffs, “No.” 

“Are you considering taking a step down and letting someone with purer intentions take over?” Hoseok remarks. 

Seokjin sighs, “No.” 

“Is this about the time I accidentally turned one of your workers into a goblin?” Taehyung ponders. 

“What? No.” 

“Is this when I forgot to turn your goblin back into your worker?” 

“Tae, no–” 

“Is this when the goblin wrecked havoc on–” 

“Okay, then!” Seokjin loudly coughs underneath his breath, a bright smile plastering on his features. There’s a sudden build up of pressure into the room, as if a hazy wave had crossed over everyone’s mind. 

His irises tinge with pink and the room is taken aback with a command, all members in his group visibly relaxing more than before. 

“This is so cool.” Jimin whispers, specks of pink dwindling in his own eyes. 

“Stop trying to toy with us and get to the point.” Hoseok barks, shaking his head with a huff. 

Seokjin grins wickedly, “Now that I finally do have your attention, there is something urgent to discuss.” Taehyung raises his hand again, but Seokjin glares at him, causing him to lower it, “This matter is of utmost importance and I believe it will affect all of us sooner or later.” 

Six sets of rounded eyes stare back at him. 

He drops the ball, “I have discovered….a human in my home.” 

A sharp, collective gasp echoes through the room. 

Jimin and Hoseok glance at each other wide-eyed while Taehyung presses a hand against his chest. Jungkook stares back at Seokjin with doe eyes as Namjoon shrinks back and Yoongi takes a sip out of his chalice filled with wine. 

“You should have started with that!” Taehyung protests. 

“Well, maybe you all hadn’t been – Oh, I don’t know – interrupting me constantly, then I would have!” Seokjin exclaims. 

“How could you let a human in here?!” Hoseok hisses, aware only the supernatural kind were granted permission. 

“This is why I have gathered all of you here.” Seokjin speaks a bit softer, “I would like some opinions about the matter and to frankly, form my own.” 

Namjoon floats forward, “We had discovered her a while ago wandering outside around the mansion. She seemed lost, as if she had nowhere to go.” 

“And?” Hoseok raises a brow, “You thought letting her in here was a good idea?” 

“I don’t think it's too bad.” Jimin objects, “They were just trying to help.” 

“Help a human? Out of all people?!” 

Taehyung bites his bottom lip, “What if...the human tries to kill us?” 

“I wouldn’t take it that far.” Jimin reasons, “Humans aren’t too dangerous.” 

Jungkook leans back in his chair, gold eyes flickering as if recalling a fond memory. “My girlfriend used to be human and tried killing me once.” 

Hoseok deeply frowns, “That’s not something to be proud of, JK.” 

He huffs, “We lived happily ever after, thank you very much.” 

“Someone’s a hopeless romantic.” Taehyung chuckles underneath his breath and Jungkook sends him a glare. 

“Well, I for one, don’t trust it.” Hoseok states, crossing his arms. “Humans should be monitored because of how fickle they can be.” 

Jimin snorts as he sips his wine, “That’s a lot coming from you.” 

Hoseok venomously glowers at him. 

“You got something to say, demon?” 

Jimin smiles wistfully. “I don’t know, it just seems like a lot coming from an angel that’s been notoriously involved with a female demon.” 

Namjoon lets out an audible gasp. Jungkook’s doe eyes increase in size and Yoongi spins his head around. Taehyung leans forward with gleaming eyes and Seokjin leans back, taking a sip of his wine.

Hoseok blushes, flustered from all the sudden attention. “T-Then what about you, huh? Why don’t you tell everyone how fond you are of humans?!” 

Taehyung revolves his head around, staring at Jimin with amusement now. Seokjin sips more of his wine, intrigued by the direction of the conversation. 

“What can I say?” He cheekily smiles. “Humans are very kind and loving. I have no regrets.” 

“Why you–” 

“H-Hyung!” Jungkook looks at Yoongi in desperation. The poor werewolf is caught sitting next to the bickering angel and demon, their interactions almost making him feel like they very well arguing over his own two shoulders. “W-What do you think about all this?”

Yoongi leans forward, clearing his throat. “Humans can be very violent and destructive, if swayed in the wrong direction. However, they can be compassionate. It’s something can take decades, even years to be able to find the right one–” 

“Not all of us wait for our significant others to be reincarnated, hyung.” Taehyung comments with a smile.

“T-That’s beautiful, hyung.” Jungkook whispers while sniffling. 

Taehyung looks at Jimin with a grin, mouthing ‘hopeless romantic’. The demon loudly giggles, causing Jungkook to scoff. 

“Hey, it is! Do you know how long it takes to find the one you love?” He proclaims, “They could literally be your best friend and you wouldn’t even realize it!” 

“Okay, JK’s started to project. Anyone else?” Seokjin looks around the table, growing bored with the conversation. 

His dancing pink eyes land on Taehyung. “How about you?” 

“What about me?” Taehyung gulps the last of his wine. 

“You have a human partner, no?” 

Taehyung smiles amused. “Do I? Who knows?” 

“Oh, stop being so secretive and mysterious.” Hoseok rolls his eyes. 

“I’m a warlock, angel.” Taehyung snaps his fingers, mist sparkling around that Hoseok waves off with a disgusted look. “I don’t let out my secrets so easily.” 

“Okay, so Taehyung’s still as hard-headed as ever.” Seokjin glances over at Namjoon, an unamused hand planted against his face. “Any progress?” 

“Two members have vouched for the human and two are against,” He looks up with a frown, staring at Taehyung, “and I believe one is undecided…?” 

“So it’s a tie.” Seokjin heaves, pressing a hand against his temples, “How am I ever going to make a decision?” 

“What’s going on?” 

The entire room plunges into an uncomfortable silence. 

Everyone slowly turns to the entrance of the grand room, line of sight redirecting to the person attached to the quiet voice that echoes into the chamber. 

Your eyes are as wide as ever, taking in the grand table and the chalices of wine in front of the seven interesting individuals. There’s a mix of different coloured eyes staring back at you, paired with intricate features like wolf ears, fangs, mist, and wings. Among them, a human-like man with pink orbs is the only one you recognize. 

“Seokjin?” You wonder, “Are these your friends?” 

“Y/N.” Although he smiles, it doesn’t completely reach his eyes. You wonder if you interrupted something, especially with how they all stare at you like you were supernatural.

Seokjin glances around, continuing to smile, “Something like that.” 

“O-Oh, that’s nice. What were you guys talking about?” 

You stare at the pink-eyed man, not noticing how the angel uncomfortably shifts, or how the demon smiles in your direction. You don’t notice the werewolf staring at you naively, or the intrigue the vampire holds. You especially don’t notice the warlock pushing his wine closer to himself, or the floating man that looks at you in wonder. 

“Um…” Hoseok warily peers at Taehyung. 

“Don’t mind me.” He swipes away at Hoseok’s drink with mist, causing Jimin to laugh. 

“Hey!” 

“Shhh.” Jungkook chides, accidentally letting out a howl in the process.

“Take mine.” Yoongi offers. “I prefer blood.”

“Y/N!” Seokjin chimes in, stern pink orbs locking onto his table of supernaturals who immediately pipe down. His arm wraps around your shoulder, a charming smile on his lips. 

“How about you wait outside, hm? Things are a bit…unearthly here.” 

“Oh…okay!” You chirp, “I don’t mind, I hope you have fun with your friends.” 

Seokjin nods, smiling unmovingly. He quickly guides you outside, before looking over in Namjoon’s direction urgently, who floats over to your side. 

The two of you leave the room and Seokjin continues to smile until the door shuts. 

He spins around. 

“Would you all calm down?!” He hisses, taking the wine out of Taehyung’s hands and instantly separating the members, “Didn’t I already tell you she’s human?” 

“And?” Hoseok retaliates, “You’re the most human looking out of all of us!” 

“Yeah!” Taehyung preaches, “You’re biased towards her.” 

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “For your kind information, I’m actually half human which is why I don’t look completely like a Faerie!” 

He gestures to his ears, which should have sharper pointed ends but take on a human-like appearance instead. 

“Biased! I’m calling it!” Taehyung says again. 

“Wait hyung, then why do you need our help?” Jungkook questions, “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to figure it out by yourself?” 

“I needed opinions.” He states, crossing his arms. “Despite being half-human, it isn’t as easy making decisions regarding them.” 

“Well, I think she’s nice. Doesn’t seem too harmful.” Jimin pitches in. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t quaking in fear.” Hoseok retorts. 

“She’s not a werewolf slayer, I’ll tell you that.” Jungkook states with uttermost seriousness. 

 Yoongi shrugs, “Don’t think she’ll reincarnate anytime soon either.”

“Can I turn her into a goblin?” Taehyung lets his intrusive thoughts out, but Seokjin frowns. 

He regards all of them, “I appreciate the penny for your thoughts,” His voice deepens, sounding borderline threatening “–and Taehyung, no.”

He pouts and Seokjin sighs, standing at the front of the table once again. 

“I have made my decision and it will be final – Y/N be allowed to stay in this home until we can recover where she came from.” 

A low laugh escapes your lips. 

“Is something wrong?” Namjoon wonders and you shake your head. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. You just have a really interesting group of friends.” 

“Ah, well, we are all quite interesting, aren’t we?” Namjoon chuckles, before fumbling. “Uh, n-not in a suspicious way, of course. In a more human-like way, with human lifespans and human way of livin–” 

“You’re all supernaturals, right?” 

Namjoon freezes. 

“Y-You knew?”

“It was quite obvious from the start.” You laugh, “Also, I heard Seokjin mumbling something along the lines of getting the creatures of the night to gather together just like the good ol’ tales.” 

Your laughter grows as Namjoon places a sheepish hand against his temples. 

He sighs, “Well, you aren’t wrong about any of that.” 

“And what about you?” He turns, only to be met with your curious gaze and warm smile. 

He grows hyper aware, “W-What about me?” 

“I could hear them talking earlier.” You explain, gaze not leaving him. “Are you like the others? Do you have a human counterpart too?”

Namjoon is taken aback, not quite expecting you to ask. But then his smile diminishes, hints of anguish filling his orbs. 

“I used to, but she crossed over not too long ago.” He looks down at his hands, his transparency only becoming more evident by the minute. “I’m just a wandering ghost now.” 

Your heart sinks. “Wandering?” 

“Regrets.” Namjoon shuts his eyes, “I’m tethered to this world because of my last regret – which had to do with my dead wife.” 

“Oh…” Your eyes soften. “I….I hope she’s in a better place.” 

“She is.” Although remorseful, you notice the hope that fills his smile. It results in one lifting onto your own lips. 

The doors before suddenly come bustling open, startling the two of you. 

Seokjin emerges, brimming with confidence. 

“There you are!” He boasts, “A final decision has been made!”

Namjoon looks at him eagerly, “Is she staying?” 

“She is, but–” Seokjin waves a finger around. “As long as she follows the rules and… accepts our true identities.” 

“Oh, I already know you’re supernaturals.” You profess, much to Seokjin’s utter shock.

“She knows?!” Hoseok’s voice pitches out from the table. 

“Humans are smarter than you give them credit for.” Jimin snorts. 

“Well, that’s my cue to go.” Taehyung snaps his fingers, vanishing into purple smoke. 

“I-I guess that answered my concern.” Seokjin stutters, staring at you with a mix of surprise and horror. 

“Thank you for letting me stay.” You warmly smile, glancing in Namjoon’s direction. “It’ll be nice getting to know all of you." 

He smiles back and Seokjin nods, widening the door and allowing you to enter into the dining room. 

“Supernaturals are a bit peculiar around humans.” Seokjin states, placing another chair at the table, “But hopefully you’ll fit in with time.” 

You slip into it, taking the seat of the eighth member amongst the large table. 

Leaning back into the chair, there are specks of pink dancing within your irises. 

“Don’t worry.” You grin wickedly, “I think I’ll fit in just fine.”

[hikarry]

17, 23 and 25?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I'm such a great writer I had to search what a "minutiae" was.

So, the story I'm working on right now it's within the Good Omens Universe, just canon divergent, so the lore is pretty much the same, and so is the history. Thing is, there's no anti-christ (at least, not for now, I'm still in the planning process, so take everything I say with a grain of salt). It begins in 2019. Aziraphale and Crowley haven't seen each other in 20 years cause Aziraphale was suddenly sent into an assignment in Iran but neither of them expected it to take so long so Aziraphale never informed or contacted Crowley and Crowley has just been doing his assignments around London mostly. I don't know much about details and things that won't make it into the story yet cause, as I said, I'm still in the planning process

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

It depends on where I am.

If I'm in my flat on campus, I write in my bedroom. My desk is white and cluttered with cans with pencils and pens, my black desk lamp, and a candle, my desk chair is also white and quite uncomfortable. There's one of those big IKEA white bookshelves on the left and the window to my balcony on my right. Behind me there's my white old fashioned closet and next to it my white - unmade - bed and the white IKEA bedside table also cluttered with shit like meds, my alarm clock, and IKEA lamp. There's a calendar on the wall right in front of me

When I'm back at my grandparents I usually write in the kitchen. I sit in one of the grey fabric very comfortablr chairs in the long kitchen table made of wooden legs and pink, white and grey marble tops. To my left is the big counter with the sink, the microwave, the kettle, the toast maker. To my right is the oven and the pantry. In front of me is a basket with fruit on top of the table, a thingy where my grandma has her sewing machine and on the wall is the spices rack and the tv. To the left of that is the stove, the airfrier and the kitchen robot we rarely use.

Good picture?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

Well, the characters are not mine so I can only say about headcanons...let me see...Crowley has a favorite plant and her name is Blanche because of one of the Golden Girls characters

Ask Game

[cabezadeperro]

codywan sleep bingo #5: king bed

hello!! last fill (for the moment) for the @codywansleepbingo​

established relationship, takes place after the war. G. implied cody/others.

word count: ~1.1k

on ao3

bingo card and fic under the cut.

---

The bed is a big slab of white cotton in the middle of the room. It is big enough that Cody can lie across on top of it, his feet barely brushing the edge, and it’s one of the most comfortable places he has had the chance to sleep in. He also hates it. It’s too big, too cold, too empty, too unprotected. The wide expanse of sheets and blankets make him feel alone, lonelier than he already feels. He did not choose it: it came with the room, and the room was one of the Senates many little backhanded gifts, like the clothes they kept throwing at him at first, like the first few drafts of the Clone Sentient Rights legislation. A poisoned gift, a gift that isn’t one—one of the first attempts on the new chancellor’s part at guessing Cody’s price.

They now know better, but Cody’s stuck with the bed and the room and the apartment anyway, just because it is convenient and he has yet to see a single credit of the compensation they were all promised.

Cody closes the door at his back and pads barefoot to his bed in the dark. It is a mess: it’s been a few days since the last time he even tried to put the sheets and blankets in some order, and half the few things he actually owns have ended up finding their way there. He can see his personal ‘pad, the comm he thought he had lost, yesterday’s socks, the cap of his old greys. He makes a face at it and then gives in to the inevitable, because he’s tired and he’s furious and he just wants to sleep.

He should just leave. He knows it, and he thinks everyone does as well. The only reason he doesn’t is because by this point it has become a matter of pride: he stays out of spite.

He forgot—again—to pull down the blinds on the room’s big window, and now and then the room flashes pink, yellow, green: Galactic City is just a layer of transparisteel away, always busy, always thrumming with life and death and industry and money. Cody leaves his clothes in a pile on the floor and pads until he stops in front of the window: it’s cold to the touch. He leans his forehead against it and closes his eyes, allowing himself a second to really feel how tired, how angry he is.

At first the work helped with the latter: now it doesn’t, or not quite. Cody exhales, shaky with fury and frustration, exhausted to the bone, and then steps away and into the fresher. He showers in the big room, with its marble and its harsh white lights, and then he steps back out, the carpet soft against his soles and his wet hair dripping down his neck.

And he finds he’s not alone.

Obi-Wan has switched on the lamp on the bedside table. He’s moved most of Cody’s things to the chair in the corner, and remade the bed, more or less. He’s sitting on it, reading something in a datapad Cody recognises with a jolt as the one he used to own back in the war, and—

“Is that food?” Cody blurts. Obi-Wan snorts and looks at him over the edge of his datapad. He looks good, tan and fit, hair closer to blond than it used to be. “It is,” he says. He turns off his datapad and smiles crookedly. “The least I could do, since I let myself in and all that.”

Cody snorts. He digs into his bag until he finds a pair of clean underwear, slips it on, and then he joins Obi-Wan on the bed, sitting cross legged across from him, the take out boxes between them.

This—this: Obi-Wan appearing in the middle of the night with natborn food—started back in the war. Everything else might have changed, but Cody finds he likes knowing he can trust this won’t. He doesn’t always get it right—Cody will keep reminding him about the dumpling situation until he dies—but his choices are always interesting, and by now Cody knows that Obi-Wan knows that’s what he likes: natborn food is one of the few things that has yet to disappoint him.

“Where’s this from?” Cody asks between bites. Obi-Wan shrugs. He’s mostly sipping a paper cup of caf, its aroma nothing like the sludge Cody remembers from the war, his free hand around Cody’s ankle. “I have no idea,” he replies honestly. “It’s from a cart a couple levels under this one, and they were too busy to ask.”

Cody hums around a mouthful. He closes his eyes: the texture of the noodles reminds him of something he had in Felucia, a couple years ago, but the sauce is all wrong. And he has no idea what the protein actually is.

“A mystery for the ages, then,” he says carelessly. Obi-Wan huffs. He left his boots and the outer layer of his tunic somewhere, and he looks soft and approachable like this, the dim light sliding down his bare arms. “I’ll find out,” Obi-Wan replies. Cody hides his smile into his box. Of course he will.

He doesn’t always stay. He doesn’t spend too much time on Coruscant anymore: the planet reminds Obi-Wan of things he’d rather forget. He left the Council a few months after the war ended, and while Cody very much doubts he won’t come back sooner rather than later, by now he’s more than happy to spend his time doing Prime knows what in the Rim. They don’t talk much: Cody’s busy, and Obi-Wan keeps himself to the edges of the galaxy, far away from the reach of most comm relays, and he does it on purpose. But now and then, this: late night talks and weird food from the heart of the Republic and Obi-Wan’s warm hand around Cody’s ankle, heavy and reassuring. Obi-Wan in this bed Cody hates, in this room he loathes, and his tales, and his company.

He’s not the only person Cody shares his body and his time with, but he’s the only one he invites into this bed, even if he doesn’t always stay, even if Cody wakes up alone more often than he’d like.

Cody finishes one of the boxes, and then leaves the room to leave the other one in his glaringly empty conservator. He finds Obi-Wan in the fresher, brushing his teeth with the brush Cody keeps for him in the small cabinet under the sink, and he hip checks him out of the way to brush his own. And then: the bed, huge and comfortable and still awful. They settle under the covers, and Cody curls around Obi-Wan, slides his cold feet between his legs, and hides his smirk in Obi-Wan's neck when he curses, too loud in the quiet room. And then: Cody, waking up hours later to find he's drifted away, and tracking him across the mattress, and the beating of Obi-Wan's heart in his chest, under Cody’s ear, like a light in the dark, following him into sleep.

[ceramiccity]

Modern Interior with Artful Decor

Modern living room with grey sofa, floor lamp, marble table, artwork, and patterned rug. Follow Ceramic City on Tumblr Source: https://www.pinterest.com/theceramiccity/

[two-crabs]

They wake up, not for the first time, face-down on the floor of a stranger’s apartment. Their cheek is pressed into a plush multicolored rug that smells like burnt sage and potting soil. When they lift their head, their vision swims for a moment before steadying on a sliding glass door; outside the Los Angeles dawn paints a small balcony in thick orange light. There’s a cafe table and chair, and a dozen or more pots and boxes full to bursting with strange, thriving plants. 

The sound of shuffling feet startles them, but when they turn to look over their shoulder, their neck is painfully stiff, and the world lurches again. Slowly, they push themself up into a hunched, cross-legged seat, and rub their knuckles into their eyes. They notice, then, the white paper hospital bracelet around their wrist, and their stomach drops. It has a name on it, and a date that was four days in the future the last time they knew, and it’s dug a thin red line into their skin. On the back of the same hand, there’s a cotton ball plastered down with a dusty, peeling bandage, and the sticky residue of IV tape. They yawn, and count their teeth; their mouth tastes like saline. 

When they finally look behind them, the rest of the apartment is decked in luxurious jewel tones and glimmering gold fixtures. From where they’re sitting, they can see three pink salt lamps, and a hanging pot rack full of copper cookware. There are tapestries on the walls, and a foot tall stack of photography books on the coffee table, and a couch with four throw pillows all in different colors. On the other side of the couch there is a record player and an elaborate sound system, but no television, and a marble-top side table with a wooden incense holder. 

There is a click from the kitchen, and then the sound of a coffee machine burbling to life. 

It only takes a few seconds for them to smell the coffee, and they stand, buoyed by it, on wobbly legs. The t-shirt they’re wearing is oversized and unfamiliar, as are the basketball shorts that reveal two badly bruised and scraped knees. Hurriedly, they check the rest of their body for damage. There’s a long scratch on their forearm, and their lips are chapped and splitting, and every time they breathe they’re wracked with a deep all-over ache…but other than that they feel mostly intact.

When they hear more movement from down the hall, they drop to the ground again, hiding behind the couch, and wince as their lower back screams out in protest. They screw their eyes shut and hold their breath, trying to imagine whoever lives in this apartment. An older woman, probably. A hippy who comes by all the witchy shit honestly. No kids of her own, but enough of a maternal instinct to take in an ailing burnout and let them sleep it off at her place. Long grey hair, lots of turquoise jewelry and beaded robes and moccasins.  Retired, perhaps, after a long career teaching art history or ceramics or—

“—A-hem.”  

They open their eyes, and look up. 

The person staring down at them over the back of the couch is not an old hippy woman with eyes full of parental care and concern. It’s…some guy. And he looks annoyed. 

They cringe, and their joints crack and groan as they unfurl themself. Once they’re finally standing, the guy takes a step back and gives them a once over. They blink into the sun over his shoulder and do the same. He’s young, thirty at most, and fashionably skinny, draped in a Halsey t-shirt so large it’s falling off one shoulder, and his blonde hair is sticking straight up from sleep. There are several golden piercings in his nose, lip, brow, and both ears, and the faint, smudgy remains of liner under his eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest, and even though he isn’t very tall, he manages to peer down his nose at them.

“H—” they start, but their voice cracks and scrapes, like they’d been yelling. The guy raises an eyebrow.  They clear their throat and try again. “Hel—wait…” They tilt their head in response, and rasp out, “I know you.” 

“‘Know’”—and he makes lazy air-quotes with one hand without uncrossing his arms—“is an overstatement. But, whatever. Glad you didn’t die on my couch. Coffee?” He wanders off towards the kitchen, bare feet padding softly on the hardwood floors.

A little stunned, they look down at the couch, and at the squished pillows and balled up blanket, and then their heart drops into their stomach. 

“Where’s my stuff?” They vault unthinkingly over the back of the couch, catch their foot on a blanket, and nearly fall on their face. “My guitar—my pipes—what did you do with them?”

“Calm, you! Jesus.” The guy slides a steaming mug across his small kitchen island. He’s got an accent—British, but unplaceably so. “And no putin’ your feet on my fucking couch.” 

“I’m serious…” they say, voice wavering, eyes darting back and forth between the guy and the coffee. 

“So am I. Your shit’s in my trunk. Figured you didn’t want the ER staff nicking your gear.” Behind him, a toaster goes ping, startling them so much they jump. “And god knows I don’t want it in my house.” They watch as he turns, pulls a pumpernickel bagel out of the toaster, and begins smothering it in cream cheese. “My name is Rhys,”—he jabs a finger into his own chest and says it slow, overannunciated, like he’s talking to a kid or a foreigner. Which to him, they suppose, they are. He smirks at his own joke, then, normal again: “What’s yours? Unless you prefer Byrd-comma-Da—”

“Mai,” they say. “I’m, uh…Mai.” And they sit, perching on the edge of one of his kitchen stools, knees drawn up to their chest. “You’re the crystal shop guy. In Lawndale.” 

Rhys takes a bite out of his bagel, and points at the floor. “S’ downstairs.” 

Mai takes a sip of the coffee. It’s good. It’s hot. It makes their stomach ache with hunger. “Um.” They swallow hard, watching the muscle in Rhy’s jaw as he chews. “If…um…okay…” Wordlessly, Rhys slides the other half of the bagel across the counter, and wordlessly, they eat it. A minute later, they take a deep breath and look back at hum. The expression on his face isn’t quite derision, and isn’t quite pity. 

“Out with it, Byrd.” And Rhys rubs the crumbs off his long, elegant fingers. 

“What…happened?” 

[ogsherlockholmes]

16th October

I’m not even going to bother writing an introduction but today’s villain (yes, definitely villain) is Charles Augustus Milverton. 

Pretty much everyone knows him, but for background he’s a blackmailer who ends up getting shot by an unknown woman (love her) at the end of the story. Instead of boring you by writing my random opinions and criticisms, I’m going to just insert a load of quotes and let Sherlock and Watson do the job for me. Also, the times when ACD built detailed characters, he really went for it and it’s enjoyable to read.

As Holmes turned up the lamp the light fell upon a card on the table. He glanced at it, and then, with an ejaculation of disgust, threw it on the floor. I picked it up and read:— Charles Augustus Milverton, Appledore Towers, Hampstead. Agent. “Who is he?” I asked. “The worst man in London,”

“He is the king of all the blackmailers. Heaven help the man, and still more the woman, whose secret and reputation come into the power of Milverton. With a smiling face and a heart of marble he will squeeze and squeeze until he has drained them dry. The fellow is a genius in his way, and would have made his mark in some more savoury trade. His method is as follows: He allows it to be known that he is prepared to pay very high sums for letters which compromise people of wealth or position... I happen to know that he paid seven hundred pounds to a footman for a note two lines in length, and that the ruin of a noble family was the result. Everything which is in the market goes to Milverton, and there are hundreds in this great city who turn white at his name. No one knows where his grip may fall, for he is far too rich and far too cunning to work from hand to mouth. He will hold a card back for years in order to play it at the moment when the stake is best worth winning. I have said that he is the worst man in London, and I would ask you how could one compare the ruffian who in hot blood bludgeons his mate with this man, who methodically and at his leisure tortures the soul and wrings the nerves in order to add to his already swollen money-bags?” I had seldom heard my friend speak with such intensity of feeling. “But surely,” said I, “the fellow must be within the grasp of the law?” “Technically, no doubt, but practically not. What would it profit a woman, for example, to get him a few months’ imprisonment if her own ruin must immediately follow? His victims dare not hit back. If ever he blackmailed an innocent person, then, indeed, we should have him; but he is as cunning as the Evil One. No, no; we must find other ways to fight him.”

Charles Augustus Milverton was a man of fifty, with a large, intellectual head, a round, plump, hairless face, a perpetual frozen smile, and two keen grey eyes, which gleamed brightly from behind broad, golden-rimmed glasses. There was something of Mr. Pickwick’s benevolence in his appearance, marred only by the insincerity of the fixed smile and by the hard glitter of those restless and penetrating eyes. His voice was as smooth and suave as his countenance, as he advanced with a plump little hand extended, murmuring his regret for having missed us at his first visit. Holmes disregarded the outstretched hand and looked at him with a face of granite. Milverton’s smile broadened; he shrugged his shoulders, removed his overcoat, folded it with great deliberation over the back of a chair, and then took a seat.

His insufferable smile was more complacent than ever.

[Milverton speaking] “Now, you remember the sudden end of the engagement between the Honourable Miss Miles and Colonel Dorking? Only two days before the wedding there was a paragraph in the Morning Post to say that it was all off. And why? It is almost incredible, but the absurd sum of twelve hundred pounds would have settled the whole question. Is it not pitiful?”

[Milverton speaking]  “I assure you that I am armed to the teeth, and I am perfectly prepared to use my weapons, knowing that the law will support me.”

With bow, a smile, and a twinkle Milverton was out of the room, 

“It is I,” she [unknown woman, my favourite person] said; “the woman whose life you have ruined.” Milverton laughed, but fear vibrated in his voice. “You were so very obstinate,” said he. “Why did you drive me to such extremities? I assure you I wouldn’t hurt a fly of my own accord, but every man has his business, and what was I to do? I put the price well within your means. You would not pay.” “So you sent the letters to my husband, and he... broke his gallant heart and died. You remember that last night when I came through that door I begged and prayed you for mercy, and you laughed in my face as you are trying to laugh now, only your coward heart cannot keep your lips from twitching? Yes, you never thought to see me here again, but it was that night which taught me how I could meet you face to face, and alone...” “Don’t imagine that you can bully me,” said he, rising to his feet. “I have only to raise my voice, and I could call my servants and have you arrested. But I will make allowance for your natural anger. Leave the room at once as you came, and I will say no more.” The woman stood with her hand buried in her bosom, and the same deadly smile on her thin lips. “You will ruin no more lives as you ruined mine. You will wring no more hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of a poisonous thing. Take that, you hound, and that!—and that!—and that!” She had drawn a little, gleaming revolver, and emptied barrel after barrel into Milverton’s body... Then he staggered to his feet, received another shot, and rolled upon the floor. “You’ve done me,” he cried, and lay still. The woman looked at him intently and ground her heel into his upturned face. 

Fortunately, the woman gets away, and she makes sure that Milverton doesn’t.

[jeanbury74]

A CC filled lot this time. English-ish House is up on the gallery. 3 bed, 2.5 bath, with a pantry and laundry room. ID jeanbury. All the CC used is written below. Beware, it's a long 'un!

876 simmer-Oslo wardrobe, lowboy dresser, nightstand and standing mirror.

9 sims-DIY stars wall hanging.

Adrestea Moon-Storybook Lover and PJR Paintings.

Ars Botanica-Peonies Pitcher and Peony Jule Cup.

Ameyasims-You're So Vain: Vanity Brush and Hand Held Mirror.

ATS4-Breakfast: Milk Pack, Coffee Jars, Coffe Jar, Milk Bottle, Instant Drink, Tea Tin, Tea Box, Cocoa Powder Box. Fruit Juice Packs, Fruit Juice Glass Bottle, Coffee Bag. Baking: Wooden Spoon,Mechanical Scale, Timer, Canister, Baking Decoration Jar, Dried Fruits, Mixing Bowl, Baking Aids, Flour, Nutella, Baking Aids Stock, Dried Fruits Stock, Electronic Scale, Measuring Cup, Sugar, Jar, Measuring Cups, Rubber Spatula, Pastry Wheel, Candied Fruits. SnowyDay: Gloves, Wall Scarf #2, Wall Beanie #1, Fur Boots, Boots Snowcalf, Wall Coat #1 and #2 Bag Clutter: Tic Tacs.

Awingedllama-Apartment Therapy Potted Vine Round Mirror, Hanging Ivy.

Charley Pancakes-Insomnia: Organic Cotton Bedding. Miscellanea: Book Collection, Standing Books, Book Series.

Desimmy-Tiny Nifty Pictures.

Dew At Home-Hallway Hanging Scarf.

Duckey-Springtime Melody ,mug, Forever Spring Canvas Art, Lil Lilies, Friends and More Friends(these are table mounted frames that are called friends. That's all the information that was given)

Faaeish-BB Wall Decor Pegs and Toy Camera.

Felixandre-Chateau: Alarm Clock, Bedding, End Table, End Table 2, Drawer, Table Lamp, Rug Square, Telephone, Dresser. Grove: Salad Bowl, Lady Sam's Peony Vase, Bedframe V1. Grove-Timbershelf Inside Corner, Flagstone Floor, Cups, Stacked Plates, Stacked Plates 2, Stacked Plates Small, Wall Basket Small, Casserole, Bowls.

Felix and Harrie-Livin Rum: Box Files, Rug, Book Row, Book Series. Orjanic: Table Lamp, Bench, Cushion 2, Book End. Baysic: Toothpaste Container. Florence Fresco Mural. Tiny Twavellers:Hedge Wall.

GhostlyCC-Pre Raphaelite Paintings.

Harrie-Coastal Kitchen: Cereal Boxes, Cabinet Stack, Accent Counter 1 Marble Type, Coastal: Farmhouse Kitchen Sink with Tea Towel, Tins, Sofa, Tv Unit, Display Cupboard, Small Plates, Bowl, Bowl Stack, Cans, , Large Plates. Heritage: Traditional Towel Ring, Bowl Traditional Toilet, Traditional Runner, Landscape Artwork, Traditional Console Table, Floor Lamp, Traditional Round End Table, Traditional Elegant Mirror Small, Traditional Desk, Traditional Bust. Country: CoffeeTable.

Haruinosato-2x1 Curtain 01 Short.

Javabeandreams-Whimsical Animal Portraits.

Kardofe-Vienna Dining Room Curtains, Bella Babies Bedroom Small Pics.

Kliekie-Yove Plants 06, Awipow Plants 11, DecorationsPlants 10 Dragon's Herb. Whisper Laurel Plants 05

Kriss-Scania Build Set:Windows Classic Colonial 2 Tile, Classic Estate 2 Tile,Jugend Cottage 2 Tile.

Leafmotif-Botanical Bathtub, Twee Tableware: 6 Egg bowl, 9 Pot with Lid, Twin Mug Stacks, Whimsy Cake Plate, Short Pitcher. Basil's Favourite Chair 3 Maud Lewis Paintings

Linacherie-Ts2 Olde Tyme Skillets, Billyjean Curio Kitchen: Trays, Clip, Jar. Simlish Art 11, RPC Prints, Sizzling Cuisine Mitts, Delicious Bakery: Cookbooks, Flour Bag.

Madame Ria-Back To Basics: Spice Bottle,Dish Rack, Cereal Box, Pot Holder Wall, Modular Shelves, Coffee Tin, Pot Holder, Stock Pot, Dressing Container, Spice Rack, Counter Grey Scale, Open Book.

Marefc-Half Tiled Walls 2.

MC- Modern Crafter The Short Contemporary Radishly Plant

Menaceman 44-Granny's Brolly Vase.

Midsummersim-Simterest Poster.

Moonlightsim-Photo Frame Memories.

Nocturne-Rustic Cottage: Pokers, Master Curtain, Pedestal Old Miller Tea Set, Deco Retro Vacuum, Not So Shabby Rug, End Table. Grandma Cupboard.

Nynaeve Design-Lyne Half Curtains Blinds V1. Lyne Three Quarters Blinds V2, 1069, 1069 Lyne Radiator 1 Tile.

Okruee- ACNH Bathroom Towel Rack. (Animal Crossing)-

Omorfi Mera- Glass Jars.

PlasticBox- Modular Plant Hanging Pot.

Peacemaker-Hinterlands:Living Throw Pillow, Farmhouse Dining Table, Single Bedframe, Cottage Dining Chair, Bedside Table, Luxurious Single Bedding V1, Arched Mirror, Wardrobe, Bedframe with Footend, Nightstand. Hinterlands Living: Stately Fireplace, Coffee Tray Table, Mantle Mirror, Fringed Pouffe. Hinterlands Dining: Framed Dining Chair, Hanging Clock, Short Petal Pendant Porcelain Lamp.

Piersim- The Office Mini Pack: Higher Plant, Landline, Stackable Book, Printer.

Pocci-S Cargeaux Cabinet RecoloursCyclamen Outdoor, Iris Outdoor, Lilac In A Glass Bottle, Woodcabinet Open (Book cabinet Mini Set), Vintage Tea Set: Teacup With Tea, Milk Pitcher, Cupcake Plate. Magnolia Ceramic Vase, Basket Decor With Slots, Anthropologie Ottoman, Laundry Day Basket on Stool, Steaming Coffee Cup, Marguerite Teacup Empty, Iris In Glass Jar. Single Rose Glass Bottle. Potted Lily Of The Valley.

PTS-Cottage Garden Tea Tin Herbs, Granny's Basket Deco, Deco Mason Jar Short.

Quaylinsims- Paintings Zodiac.

Rhiannon AR-Medium Rug Floral Modern, Long Rug WithModern Floral Patterns

Ricca Bee-Mom's Lamp.

RSVN-Clothes Minded: Fedora, Floppy Hat, Baseball Hat, Sweater. Peg To Differ: Dish Towel, Knife Set, Mug, Utensils. Simmerdown: Cookie Jar, Mason Jar, Mug, Hanging Pots And Pans, Paper Towel, Ceramic Jar, Macaroon Jar. Smeglish Kettle Large.Procraftination:Hoop Large,

RoyIMVU-Seagrass Baskets.

Silverhammer-Executron Executive Desk Throne.

SimMan123-Sheer Right Curtain Short.

Sixam-Spring Six Kitchen: Buttery Toast, T Meg Mid Century Toaster With Toast, TMeg The Terrance, Deco Stove Hood, Olly's Oil Bottles, Kitchen Appliances Stove, Don't Be A Square Plate.

SJB (Yika)-Charlie Set Two CurtainsV1.

Soloriya-Zoe Blinds Part 2.

SYB-Colette: Towel, Toilet Paper Rolls, Soap Dispenser,Wallshelf, Bath, Blanket, Sink, Floor Vertical Mirror, Book, Cupboard, Rug, Bath Tray, Toilet.Millenial: Fridge, Fruit Basket,Utensils Rack, Utensils Pot, Totebag, Spices, Dish Soap. Microwave, Olive Oil, Breadbox, Island, Trashbin, Shower Curtains Short. Highschool Corridor: Hanged Backpack, Sandrine Slippers.

Tianella SE- Honey Herbs Paintings.

Veranka-Yesteryear Loveseat.

Wistful Castle-Wistful Room Pictures, Wistful Lamp #1.

Wondymoon-Cycnus Curtains.

Zeenasims- English Cottage: Paintings, Wainscotting Wallpaper.

ZX-Tagada-Lighting Table Candlestick.

[taintedpromises]

A Life Worth Forgetting

— Part 2 —

I am the monster that you created.

“She could’ve lived.” He spoke like the death of someone was amusing somehow.

“The old you would’ve known better, she wouldn’t have been so careless.”

My jaw muscles flexed from clenching my teeth, my irritation rising. That’s been the common phrase around this mansion, ‘the old you’ this ‘the old you’ that. I’m not her anymore, I don’t even know who that person was and I’m sick of hearing it.

The man sat behind a solid oak desk that lacked any clutter, only a laptop and lamp took up residence on the smooth surface. His greying raven hair is slicked back in its usual look, his thin lips pursed together as his sharp blue eyes studied me.

I’ve been held captive for over three months in a fancy room connected to its own bathing chamber and dining area, I was sought after and fed like a queen after the interrogations they had me undergo just to be sure I truly had no memories of the past. By interrogations, I mean torture for two weeks.

My bones are now fully healed and I knew he’d call me into his office to inform me that I’d be participating in the training. There were others he had here that he’s had in the mansion for years, training. I still wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but I wasn’t about to ask questions. I found that every time I asked too much, I would go without food or water for a couple days. There was nothing like the hunger pangs. I needed to keep my strength up, I had plans to kill and being weak wasn’t an option.

Pushing away from the dark blue velvet armchair, I turn towards the giant wooden double doors. The heels that were waiting for me on the dining table, along with the little black dress I now wore, clicked with every step against the hardwood floors. My fingers grab ahold of the handle before I hear his voice again.

“Welcome back to the family, Luce.”

My spine straightened at the name, nobody has told me what my name was before the accident. Turning my head just enough to see him from my peripheral, I respond.

“Luce is dead.” My words dripped with pure hatred.

The last thing I heard prior to closing the door behind me was, “I’m counting on that.” followed by a low chuckle.

I refuse to go by that name, I don’t know her. Tequila isn’t your normal name, I’m aware, but it is the last thing I have that is mine. It may not be perfect, but it’s mine.

I learned a few things during my stay here. One: The one in charge is my father.

Two: He hates me because I remind him of my mother that died giving birth to me.

Three: If I don’t get out of here, he will force me to do something I’ll hate myself for.

I was shocked to find out that my mother is dead, not that I would be able to remember her anyway. It made me wonder, had my father always been like this?

I walked the marble halls of the mansion until I reached my prison of a bedroom, threw myself on the downy bed, and cried until sleep overcame me.

He killed Helen.

———————————————————————

———Two Years Later———

The world was built on nightmares

disguised as dreams.

The taste of blood on my tongue made my nose scrunch in disgust. I must have bit my cheek while sleeping again. My eyes slowly opened to adjust to the light pouring into my bedroom from the large windows that had a clear view overlooking central park.

This was the third hotel I’ve stayed at in the last three months with the money I swiped from the safe that is nestled behind my father’s desk. I never stayed in one place for too long. I’ve been on the run ever since I escaped my father, the leader of a tightly strung group of hitmen.

I don’t believe he’s hunting me, he knows I’ll go to him when I’m ready. That isn’t stopping some of his lackeys from trying to put me in my place. Every time one of them crosses my path, I have to change cities. Can’t stay in the area where a dead man is found. New York City made it easier to blend in, maybe I’ll stay.

My father knew the risks of training me. Although most of my memories remain hidden from myself, I remembered enough to escape from the clutches of that mansion that held me captive for two years.

I’m not sure how old I truly am, but as I gaze in the mirror, my burnt orange hair unruly from sleep, I’d say I were about twenty-eight.

My father’s attempt at ending my life failed, but with his failure came the loss of my memories. To my father, that was like handing a painter a blank canvas. I was something for him to mold, to make into a masterpiece.

The interrogations he had me undergo will forever be burned into my brain. The memory of those two weeks haunt me in my sleep. The torture lasted two weeks, I thought I was going to die in that room, until my father walked in. His presence made the room seem smaller, his emotionless eyes scanned the work of his men, his gaze was unnerving. He seemed like he was staring into you, at your soul, right to your center.

One of the servants was at work cleaning my wounds from the last round of interrogation. My father stood there, watching, waiting. When the woman was done, she scurried from the room after gathering all of her supplies. I stayed slumped against the chair, peeking through my blood soaked hair up at him. His face, expressionless.

He regarded me the way one would regard a pig they were looking to purchase for butcher. “Do you remember your name?”

He picks a piece of lint from the right shoulder of his black suit coat while he paced in front of me awaiting an answer.

“No.” It hurt to breathe. I was sure I had a broken rib or two.

He stopped and before I could blink, he was kneeling before me with his face inches from my own, eyes blazing with a deep hidden rage. He grabbed my face between his fingers, squeezing my bruised cheeks until it hurt. My scabbed lip opened, blood slowly trickled into my mouth.

“No, sir.” He corrected.

“No, sir.” I repeat, though it was hard to talk with him holding my face so tightly.

It took every ounce of self control to stop the tears from spilling. My body was in pain from the brass knuckled beating I took the day before, but I wouldn’t cry, not in front of him.

Satisfied, he lets my face go, he was close enough for me to smell the mix of coffee and cigarette smoke on his breath. “Do you remember my name?”

My heart rate kicked up, and I felt like I would vomit. “No, sir.”

“Good.” He stroked his chin in thought, his eyes staring into mine. I refused to look away, to show him any sign of weakness.

He straightened back into a standing position, going back to pacing the small room. “Training starts when your bones are healed.”

I thought that was all he had to say as he turned to leave, but when he was halfway through the door, he turned back to me and the hairs on the back of my neck raised. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

My muscles remembered what my mind couldn’t. The more I trained, the more my body remembered. Training required a lot of mental work along with physical and because of my petite size, I had to use people’s weight against them. It was easy considering how my opponents always seemed to underestimate me. That was exactly how I escaped, everyone underestimated me, thought me weak.

My father once said that I got my looks from my mother, but my way of thinking was all him. It made my skin crawl as much then as it does now because he was right. No matter how much I hate that man, I had a lot in common with him. The difference, I don’t enjoy killing.

Everyday I’ve had to look over my shoulder waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows and attack, even though it’s only happened twice. I can’t risk letting my guard down, I refuse to end up in my father’s clutches again.

“Luce.” I hear my father’s voice call out. “Luce, your mother is dead because of you.”

No! I want to shout but my voice is gone.

“Your fiancé died because you were too weak.” My father’s voice continued.

No, no, no! I tried to escape his voice, but it was no use.

“Everyone you will ever love is going to die because of you, Luce.” My fathers voice sounded almost amused.

“YOU’RE ALONE.”

I awoke with a start, sweat coating me and the covers. Another restless night, the days blurred together. Helen, James, my mother, all dead because of me.

“You’re a weapon, and weapons don’t weep.” I repeated those words until I knew the tears wouldn’t spill. I can show no weakness.

My mother died giving birth to me, James was my fiancé and he died trying to save me, Helen died because my father found her number in my pocket after I was kidnapped outside the hospital. They haunt my dreams every night and in the waking hours, I had to hide. Paranoia made every stranger that lingered too long a potential threat.

I can’t get close to anyone in fear that any connection to me will result in their death. Until I’m free, there is no life for me.

I may have escaped, but this is hardly living. I’m the shell of a woman. I have to kill my father, if I don’t, the fear that is so tightly wound into my being won’t ever ease, I’ll never be free, and I’ll always be alone.

“Anyone can start again

Not through love, but through revenge

Through the fire, we’re born again.

Peace by vengeance brings the end.”

———————————————————————

[influencermagazineuk]

A Guide to the Glamour and Functionality of an Influencer-Ready Luxury Bedroom

In the age of social media, having a stylish and luxurious bedroom is not just about personal comfort – it’s also about creating a space that can be showcased to an audience. Furthermore, for influencers, a bedroom that combines glamour with functionality can enhance their brand and create a backdrop for stunning content. Here’s a guide to designing an influencer-ready luxury bedroom. Set the Foundation with High-Quality Furniture Quality furniture is the backbone of any luxurious bedroom. Start with a statement bed that features a plush headboard and a high-quality mattress. Bespoke wall mounted headboards in velvet or leather add a touch of elegance. Complement the bed with sophisticated nightstands that have sleek designs and are made of high-end materials like marble or mirrored finishes. Investing in a spacious wardrobe with a chic design is also essential. Custom-built wardrobes with lighting and organized storage make a significant impact. Create a Stunning Colour Palette A cohesive and relaxing colour palette sets the tone for a luxurious bedroom. Begin with a neutral base colour; cream, taupe, or soft grey ceates a calming atmosphere and serves as a perfect backdrop for other design elements. Next, add exciting pops of colour through accent pieces like throw pillows, artwork, and rugs. Jewel tones like emerald green, sapphire blue, and ruby red add a touch of opulence. Finally, incorporate metallic accents in gold, silver, or rose gold to add a hint of glamour. These can be integrated through light fixtures, picture frames, and decorative accessories. Enhance the Ambiance with Lighting Lighting is critical in creating a luxurious and photogenic bedroom. Install a pendant light or a chandelier as a focal point. Crystal chandeliers add a classic touch, while modern designs in gold or black can offer a contemporary look. Choose elegant bedside lamps that provide soft, warm lighting; lamps with metallic finishes or unique designs can double as decor pieces. Use dimmable LED lights or smart bulbs to control the ambiance. LED strip lighting under the bed or along shelves can add a soft, luxurious glow. Incorporate Luxe Textures and Fabrics Luxurious textures and fabrics elevate the comfort and style of a bedroom. Invest in high-thread-count sheets, a plush duvet, and an array of pillows. Silk, satin, and Egyptian cotton are excellent choices for a luxurious feel. Layer different textures with throws, blankets, and cushions, using materials like faux fur, velvet, and cashmere to add depth and warmth. Opt for heavy, floor-length curtains in rich fabrics like velvet or silk. These not only add a luxurious touch but also help in soundproofing and controlling light. Add Stylish and Functional Decor Decorative elements should be both stylish and functional to enhance the overall aesthetic. Hang large pieces of artwork or mirrors to create visual interest and make the room appear larger. Choose pieces that reflect your style and uniqueness and complement the colour palette. Incorporate indoor plants to add nature and freshness; plants like fiddle leaf figs or monstera can make a bold statement. Use area rugs to add warmth; Persian rugs or those with intricate patterns can enhance the luxurious feel. Maximize Space A luxurious bedroom should be clutter-free and well-organized. Utilize built-in storage solutions to keep the space tidy. Consider under-bed storage, built-in shelves, and custom closets. Create a dedicated vanity area with ample lighting and storage for makeup and accessories. A mirrored vanity table with drawers can keep items organized and accessible. Integrate smart home technology for convenience; automated lighting, smart speakers, and a charging station for devices can enhance functionality. Final Thoughts A well-designed luxury bedroom not only enhances your personal comfort but also serves as a stunning backdrop for your social media presence, helping to elevate your brand and engage your followers. By paying attention to the above details, you can design a space that is both glamorous and functional, perfect for creating content that resonates with your audience. Read the full article

[surehomedecor01]

If you want to shop for a Little mermaid pillowcase, you can shop for it from Sure Home Decor. Our collection of home décor items will surely help you create a distinctive space that will make you happy.

[edwin--artifex]

'Archeological Box' @ Domus Aventino BNP Paribas Real estate on Piazza Albania on the Aventine Hill, Rome

Edwin Alexander Francis 'dubbed' the famous Italian television host, science journalist and writer Piero Angela who curated the archeo-multimedia installations together with Paco Lanciani.

La Scatola Archeologica Domus Aventino

“Portare alla luce ciò che è antico, è una delle più grandi forme d’amore per l’umanità”

Piero Angela

(c) of the renders courtesy:

Here's a clip from the promo vid ->

and an article from:

Ancient Roman villa and elaborate mosaics found beneath apartment block in Rome. The villa and its mosaics have now been turned into a subterranean museum

By Nick Squires ROME 6 October 2020 • 10:00am

A concierge and a smart address are no longer enough for one apartment block in Rome – it can now boast its very own subterranean Roman villa. Archeologists have unveiled the remains of a sumptuous Roman “domus” or villa, complete with elaborate mosaics, that had remained hidden for 2,000 years. It was discovered when engineers carried out work to earthquake-proof the residential development, which was built in the 1950s. Archeologists were called in and found a series of palatial rooms laid with mosaics featuring black and white geometric designs, made from tens of thousands of tiny cubes of stone. “You can see from the richness of the decorations and the mosaics that the villa belonged to a powerful person, probably linked to the imperial family,” said Daniela Porro, a senior cultural heritage official for the city. “Rome never ceases to surprise us. It’s an archeological jewel.” It was unearthed by chance in 2014 and after years of archeological work is now ready to be opened to the public as a subterranean museum. Visitors will enter the modern apartment building from the street, cross a courtyard and descend one flight of steps to an anonymous grey door next to a pair of lifts. Inside are not the only the remains of the Roman villa, with mosaics and fragments of frescoes and Latin inscriptions, but earlier segments of a stone tower dating back to the 8th century BC, as well as a huge defensive wall that dates back to the Roman republic. During the excavation, archeologists found a wide array of objects from everyday Roman life, including a hammer, a key, a water tap, a hairpin and oil-burning lamps. They found amphorae which held garum, a noxious-smelling sauce made from fermented fish that the Romans loved to use to spice up their meals. There were also fragments of lacquered bowls stamped with the images of Hercules and the goddess Athena. Video projections on the walls of the underground space bring the villa alive, with a senator and his wife strolling amid marble busts, ornate tables and couches. One mosaic has as its centrepiece an image of a bright green parrot with a splash of red in its plumage, while another depicts a grape vine growing from a large vase. The archeologists found not just one layer of remains, but six different layers, one on top of another, spanning a period of two centuries. The patterns of the mosaics, including one which features a repetitive figure 8, are unusual. “We’ve not seen it before,” said Roberto Narducci, an architect involved in the excavation. The €3 million dig was funded by BNP Paribas Real Estate, the company which owns the apartment building. “It’s quite a challenge to allow access to the site, while protecting the privacy of the condominium’s residents,” said the company’s Anselmo De Titta. “It will be open to the public at least two days every month and more if there is the demand.”

...and here's Piero Angela's conclusion ('dubbed' by Edwin Alexander Francis :-) ->

check out the real estate here ->

[iheartvintage1]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Mid Century Robert Sonneman For George Kovacs Marble Chrome Table Lamp.

[choicefurnituresuperstore]

ELEVATE YOUR DINING SPACE WITH GREY MARBLE DINING TABLES

When it comes to designing a sophisticated dining room that exudes timeless elegance, grey marble dining tables are a perfect choice. These stunning pieces of furniture effortlessly combine sleek style with natural beauty, becoming the centerpiece that transforms your dining space into a luxurious haven.

Grey marble, with its unique veining patterns and captivating shades, adds a touch of refinement and sophistication to any interior. The cool tones of grey seamlessly blend with various color palettes, allowing for versatile design possibilities. Whether you prefer a modern or traditional aesthetic, a grey marble dining table can adapt and enhance your vision.

To create a cohesive and visually appealing dining room, consider incorporating complementary elements. Pair your grey marble table with elegant dining chairs upholstered in soft neutrals or rich jewel tones. This combination adds depth and warmth to the space while accentuating the natural beauty of the marble.

Lighting plays a crucial role in highlighting the allure of a grey marble dining table. Install a statement chandelier or pendant light above the table to create a focal point that accentuates its elegance. Additionally, strategically placed wall sconces or table lamps can enhance the ambiance and add a touch of intimacy to your dining area.

To further enhance the sophistication of your dining room, pay attention to the accessories and décor. Consider adorning the table with minimalist centerpieces, such as a sleek vase with fresh flowers or a collection of sculptural objects. Incorporating metallic accents, such as silver candleholders or gold-trimmed dinnerware, can add a luxurious touch that complements the grey marble.

Finally, ensure that the overall design of the dining room harmonizes with the grey marble table. Choose flooring materials and wall colors that complement the cool tones of the marble, such as light-colored hardwood floors or muted gray wall paint.

With a marble-top dining table as the focal point, you can create a sophisticated dining room that exudes elegance and charm. By carefully selecting complementary furniture, lighting, and décor, you can curate a space that reflects your style while showcasing the beauty of grey marble. Unveil the true essence of elegance in your dining room with a grey marble dining table as the crowning jewel.

[ceramiccity]

Flora Lamp by Designer Marcin Rusak

flora lamp by Marcin Rusak - Modern table lamp with spherical white shade, brass accents, and marble base against grey background. Follow Ceramic City on Tumblr Source: https://www.pinterest.com/theceramiccity/

[writelonely]

Vanishes in the Mist

“Reba’s wedding, Anju. Will you…?” The voice drops off.

[1]        Only two people could call me Anju. One is Mitali, my wife, and the other… well, how does Koushik know this number? My brows knit into a frown.

          We went our separate way long back when I left politics to pursue a career in the civil service.

“Capitalist roader,” Koushik spat on me when the admit card reached our sleepy North Bengal town. He had got no whiff of my preparing for the examination.

          My muscled frame has since grown flabby, and the greying hairline receded into baldness as I settle comfortably in the corridors of power. The eyebags are of a recent origin; the CBI investigation has something to do with them.

“Oh sure, I’ll be…just let me check,”

          “I need you, Anju.”

           Time often plays quirky. The ideals fade away, and the comrades develop feet of clay, leaving a sour taste. Yet, across the fogged-up memories of childhood and adolescence roll over the call – Koushik needs me.

          So, on a misty winter afternoon, Mitali and I pack up for the weekend and quietly slip out. CBI must not get a whiff of my leaving Delhi, and the media should not get a tip.   

          Nobody answers when I try to inform Koushik about our arrival. Well, this little surprise will not displease him, I hope.

The sun has long gone down when we get out of the taxi after a four-hour-long drive from Bagdogra. The house stands haunted in the dark right at the corner where the highway turns abruptly towards an empty field with overgrown grass the townspeople love to call the airport, although no aircraft have landed there for decades.

Nothing remains of the once formidable gate beside the two rickety brick pillars with a marble plaque clinging to one of them. Despite being corroded over time, it still announces ‘Roy Chowdhury Villa’. The rest is hidden behind shrubs and creepers allowed to grow unrestrained. Had it not been winter, when snakes go into hibernation, I would not have dared to step into that thicket. 

Wind rustles through the tree branches, gathering fallen leaves into a swirl. Bubai da, the old caretaker - his pale, wrinkled face shrivelled like a cadaver - springs out of nowhere. Mitali grips my hand.

          “They’ve cut off the electric connection.” His voice travels through the hollow of a long empty tunnel as he picks up our luggage and shows us our room – the only one with a kerosene lamp flickering - at the end of the long corridor.  

The door screeches open, unsettling the dust and letting out the musty smell of stale, dank air of a long uninhabited place. The walls – paint peeled off – have turned mouldy. The faded bedspread lies damp and cold like a corpse. No one has turned it for ages.

          “Nobody has entered this room after Kartama (the old mistress) died,” Bubai da explains. 

          It saddens me. Koushik has not told me Sonali is no more.

          “Karta (the head of the household) isn’t doing well. He’ll meet you in the morning.” Bubai da is busy preparing the bed while he speaks. “Freshen up. Meanwhile, I’ll rustle up dinner for you.”

          He melts in the darkness before I can ask him about Reba.

           “No need to unpack much,” Mitali’s voice betrays irritation, “seems we’re in a ruin.”

           I cannot blame her. This is not the reception we expected. Instead of a family preparing for a wedding, we seem to have landed in a spooky house.

“Reba Didimoni teaches in a school in Mathabhanga. She comes home at weekends. You will meet her tomorrow morning,” Bubai da explains at the dinner table.  

          “Karta had a small catering business. I used to oversee until it shut shop during the pandemic,” Bubai da continues. “Although things had never been hunky-dory, the pandemic reduced us to penury. Karta suffered a cardiac arrest last summer and has since been obsessed about Reba Didimoni’s wedding.”

           The only way out is to sell the property, but Koushik will not hear any such thing.

“You do whatever you please with the Villa, but only after my dead body leaves its gate.” Koushik will retort whenever his siblings – now spread worldwide – raise the issue.

           I chuckle to myself. The revolutionary is now clutching at a piece of land. I tap the mahogany dinner table.  Across it, Koushik and I spent so many evenings arguing about the future of humanity.  

           “Why don’t you take some of the burdens?” Bubai da turns to me. “You’re a rich man now.”

            “You won’t understand, Bubai.” Mitali tries to shake it off, “We have our share of trouble. Days are not so rosy for us either, you know.”

“And Bubai da,” I chip in, “what solution is there, anyway? Surely, you don’t think we will wade in the Roy Chowdhury’s muddle?”

            “But you can take Reba’s responsibility.”

            I know why Bubai da is so insistent. He has no immediate family, and his entire life has revolved around this house. Where will he go if the property is sold out?

  “God has his own plans,” Bubai da almost read my mind. “Tomorrow morning, you will find everything settled. You won’t have to trouble yourself about me either.” His lips pucker into a mysterious smile.      

          Late at night, I give up on getting some sleep. Throwing a shawl over my shoulders, I slip out of the room.

          A draft from the Himalayas shudders through the corridor. It breathes on my neck, tingling my skin to a late October night in my childhood. We were returning home after pandal-hopping all through the Durga Puja evening. I tugged at Bubai da for an ice cream stick.

          He tried to pacify me, but I would not. “One day, when I grow up – big as you, I’ll buy all the ice cream in the world and won’t give you any, however much you cry.”

          Bubai da lifted me to his chest and kissed my neck. “If you don’t give me one, I’ll be after you forever. Even after death.”

          I fondly rub my neck. If only I could return to that innocence and start all over again. 

          A fresh cool breeze kisses me as I open the window in the morning,

          Mitali sprawls languorously in the bed. “Bubai should have asked us for tea by now.”

           But we find no one in the house. Koushik, Bubai da, everyone seems to have vanished in thin air.

          We step out onto the highway. Kanchenjunga is sparkling over the northern sky. Mitali screams in joy. And it infects me also. We forget everything about the night before and worry about the missing people.

            “Anjan Kaku, you are… here?” A young woman stops on her way, throws her backpack to the ground, and tips to touch my feet.

           “I’m Reba. Can’t you remember me?”

           “Reba!” that girl in a frock running about in the yard has grown into a beautiful lady. Life has played rough on her, but in the soft golden winter sun this morning, her smiling face has no trace of that struggle.

           “Did you spend the night there, in our house, and Bubai da received you?”   Reba’s face wears an expression of incredulity if not outright fear.

           “What’s so odd about it?” asks Mitali.

            “Only that both Papa and Bubai died of Covid last summer, during the 2nd wave.”

           Reba wraps her arm around Mitali’s waist, saving her from collapsing to the ground.

           “What about your wedding?” I try to recover from the shock.

           “Wedding? My wedding?” Reba’s forehead creases questioningly before she breaks into a hearty laughter.

          “But who phoned me then?” I turn to the northern sky. Kanchenjunga has vanished behind a thick blanket of mist.