#sunburst ceiling light

[voltronlookbook]

Enclosed Dining Room

[endless-ineffabilities]

babydoll

Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

word count: 800 ▪︎ masterlist

The reader and Bucky have a 4am encounter.

You scramble out of bed, groggy from sleep. Having woken up half an hour ago, you've just been lying there, staring at the ceiling, thinking of what Natasha said to you earlier.

"I have it on good authority that one Sergeant Barnes has his eye on you."

"Oh? And whose authority is that?"

"Mine, of course," she winked, "The only authority you can trust in this compound, mind you."

Your footsteps make no sound as you quietly walk to the shared kitchen on your floor. Everyone's sound asleep, or potentially out at some bar, if they were coaxed into it by Sam. Potentially world-ending events, terrorist threats, homicidal purple aliens. Whatever might come, Sam's enthusiasm to grab a drink and lay back will never wane. Everyone's best friend.

The panel to the kitchen slides open, F.R.I.D.A.Y. scanning and recognizing you. You blink through the haze of sleep, and proceed to rummage through the fridge. Tony's cheeseburgers, Wanda's borscht, Nat's carefully planned meals. And an obscene amount of beer. Taking one, you shuffle around for the bottle opener.

"Need some help with that?" A deep voice asks, startling the shit out of you. The bottle slips from your fingers, but a metal arm catches it just before it empties out on the floor.

"Fuck!" Your eyes meet Bucky's in the faint light, "you really do move like a ghost, don't you?"

"Actually, the name's Buck," he hands the bottle to you, with a cheeky smirk, "and yes, I've been told that before."

"Funny," your heartbeat still races, but no longer due to the almost-accident.

"Here," he reaches forward and deftly twists the bottle cap off with one hand, and clinks his bottle to yours, "Cheers, babydoll."

You take a huge gulp of beer to stifle your awkwardness. Damn him and his hulking form and his sensual musk and his steel blue gaze.

"What was that you called me?" you leaned back against the counter to steady yourself, "Don't think you've said it before. Not to me anyway."

"Hmm, what? Babydoll?" There's a playfulness in his eyes, as if he's aware of how he's making you feel.

"Yeah, it sounds... nice."

He takes another swig of his drink, "Glad you think so. It suits you. Anyway, I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I was just sitting over there," he points to the couch in the dim corner of the room, "and you didn't seem to notice me."

"Couldn't sleep either?" You peer up at him, and let your eyes run over the faint lines around his. You make a mental note of how beautiful it is when he smiles and they appear like sunburst. It took a long time for Bucky to come back to himself, but he truly has let go of the Winter Soldier.

"Mmm," he leans against the counter beside you, and you're even closer than before, "sleep doesn't come easy to me. But at least I bumped into you now, eh?"

"Were you looking for me, Barnes?" You don't know where you've found the courage to flirt, but you're not dwelling on it.

"I just," he hesitates, pausing between his words, "haven't seen you around so much. And... I wanted to. See you more, that is."

Was Bucky getting flustered around you? Perhaps Natasha was not kidding, after all. You already hoped, but it's different to see it now, unfolding in front of you.

You smile, and his lips slowly curve upward while looking at you. "Why is that?"

"Y'know, the last person I called babydoll was this dame called Dot. I took her on a couple dates, back in the 40s. I liked her quite a lot then, so I suppose I saw fit to call her by that little name."

"Oh?" You mull over his words, confused as to why he's telling you about another girl. And then...

"Oh." You whisper once more, "So you..?"

He sets his beer on the counter, and stands in front of you. Bracing his hands on your waist, he lowers his lips close to your ear, "I like you quite a lot now, babydoll."

Blood rushes to your face, and you feel lightheaded. Definitely not due to the alcohol.

"And, I actually have it on good authority that you like me too," he adds.

Realization hits you, and you can't help but fondly roll your eyes, "Tell me, Buck, does this 'good authority' happen to be a certain redheaded former assassin?"

"Yeah, how did you..." His eyes widen slightly, "Oh, of course. She told you, didn't she?"

"That's our Nat," you smile, and testing the waters, you interlace your fingers behind his neck.

Sunburst lines erupt around his magnetic blue eyes, "So I take it she was telling the truth?"

"Oh, just kiss me already."

🖤

First ever Bucky blurb. I've always loved his character, but why did I feel like I was cheating on Aemond or Daemon? 😭 wow, I need therapy..

Not me thinking, 'Aemond would be so jealous right now.' Hahahaha it's a problem.

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Four

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none, but almost main character death lol

— WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

I

Tom stayed away for a few days. He stalked around some other rare book stores but found none of what Caractacus Burke was searching for. Still, it gave ample enough time for her to forget about him. He needed to be out of her mind before he carried out his plan.

He sat at a café outside her store one evening, waiting to see her go home again. Not able to stand another cup of coffee, hot and bitter, he decided to try something he’d seen so many other locals eating. It was called ‘gelato’. A frozen treat, it looked like clotted cream and was eaten with a little spoon. Tom regretted ordering it the moment it arrived, but with each bite, he became a little fonder of it. It was cold and vaguely sweet with a drizzling of cherry jam on top. He reached the bottom of the cup before he even realised, and licked the spoon clean afterwards.

She stepped out later this time, at around six o’clock. Tom got up not long after but he didn’t follow her. His gaze trailed after her from behind a pair of aviator shades — her white shirt fluttering with each step, hair soft upon her shoulders — and let himself enjoy the view until she disappeared beyond the curve of a building that bent like a wave. Then he turned the other way, the way she came from.

The lamp lights were just coming on, bathing the marble a sulphuric yellow. He took his sunglasses off and tucked them in his shirt as he slid through the narrow street the shop was on. There was nobody around, but he could hear the echoes of other people through the walls of the nearby buildings. The area was a mix of domestic and commercial, small old flats and little shops which made it quite unpredictable. It was a very intimate setting, and dangerous for that very reason — few escape routes should anyone appear.

He peered through the glass first at the organised chaos inside, the clutter and piles of precious old things that lifetimes would not suffice to explore. Between them, Tom saw his reflection staring back. He aimed his wand at each lock and muttered an Alohomora. The spell let him in like butter.

The shop was just faintly lit from beyond the large display windows, rendering every book and smooth wood surface into a little sunburst. The air was light with dust, and dry, and cold in the way libraries often were. The pillars that held the ceiling high were cinder-black, and carved so finely that the wood seemed lace and pillow soft. A sweet scent lingered in the cavernous construction. It really was a marvellous atmosphere… Tom wouldn’t have minded staying if circumstances were different. His grandfather’s ring trilled around his finger.

Regardless of how old the building was, the interior was certainly built to order. It had a hint of the Victorian with a Renaissance flair. Tom had been in enough rich people’s houses to tell. It amused him how much they were all alike in taste, as if they were part of the same secret breed.

He stepped further in. The floorboards creaked and, looking down, a small amount of dust flew up. Curious. Perhaps it really didn’t get that many customers so often. The other shops he had visited this week all seemed to have at least another two clients while he was there… Strange, as this shop was bursting with books, and in an accessible location too. Tom could only guess that either they were prohibitively selective with their clientele, or the place had a bad reputation.

He found her ledgers tucked underneath the desk. They were split into three themes: Letteratura, Religione, and Esoterismo. He opened the latter.

It was detailed, thick, and finely indexed with the most minuscule writing. Instead of listing their catalogue, it listed all the authors they seemed to have an interest in, whether or not they held any of their books. Prices were next to certain volumes, along with purchasing dates. Others were annotated with the shop or collector that held them. From Agrippa to Cheiro to Crowley, from Novalis to Paracelsus, Roerich, and Sepharial, they had their eye on everyone. He turned toward the end, pale finger brushing through the T’s.

They had nothing by Tamisso, another author on his list, although they did have a copy of The Lost Word by Trevisan — a more recent edition than the 1870 one that Mr. Burke wanted, but still serviceable. But what he was really looking for was Torchia.

And he found him. A whole half-page was dedicated to him, even if the books were few and three-quarters of the space was empty. They must’ve expected to find more of his works in the future.

But as he was reading, the ring started feeling heavier, like its black stone wanted to pull loose. Oftentimes, the splinter of his soul that was trapped inside was a bit of a canary in a coal mine, more sensitive to changes in Tom’s surroundings than he was… He gazed suspiciously toward the ring and put the ledger down.

Tom looked up at the ceiling. It was tall and too dark to see, absorbing the most highly placed volumes like a black hole, like a void. Looking down, between the floorboards, the same infinite darkness. It occurred to him that perhaps the place was cursed. An unlikely idea given that it was a building belonging to muggles, but he’d seen stranger things. And after all, he still didn’t know who the owner was.

He looked at the catalogue again.

Torchia, A.

Key to Captive Thoughts, 1653 — four three copies

A Curious Explanation of Mysteries and Hieroglyphs, 1655 — one copy sold to H. Àristos, 1949

The Three Books of the Art, 1658 — one copy, private ownership → Luce

He scanned further down the line, and there it was: Delomelanicon.

It wasn’t written up like the others. It had no number, no mention of its year of publication, nor even where it was. All it had was a strange symbol next to it, like a plus sign with a downward arrow. Tom couldn’t guess what it meant.

But they had it, they must have. He closed the book with satisfaction and an overflow of greed, and carefully put it back in its place.

II

With the bookshop all to himself, Tom explored at his leisure. He stepped lightly, almost reverently, through its misty dusty rooms veiled by growing darkness. He cast Lumos when entering the second room, which had no windows to the outside world. A thick red carpet muffled his steps.

His first stop was at the section where she had searched for Helena Blavatsky, assuming the shelves followed the logic of the ledgers and were organised thematically as well as alphabetically. He pulled the ladder over and started to climb, holding the wand between the tips of his fingers.

Names spread before him, ancient and powerful. Some of them were only mentioned in the most proscribed of texts, others he hadn’t even heard of. It was one thing to see them listed so economically, and another to see their naked spines, crack them open, part them, and touch their wavy pages.

He had to pause once he came across a 17th-century copy of the Cyranides. How many men died for merely reading this book… What horror, what beauty. He turned to the page on the use of bezoars and smiled. The illustration braided around the page was of a watersnake, unmoving, done with an almost childish hand. It was from a more innocent time when such magical knowledge was a thing of fear and wonder, exclusive and yet renown, whispered about, admired. Not hidden away.

Holding the wand between his teeth, Tom pulled the ladder and himself a bit further to the right. Its wheels were loud enough to make him wince.

He found a wealth of books in this place that made him feel things he had not felt in a while: greed, desire, admiration… He hadn’t seen so many wonderful tomes since Hogwarts. For long moments in large swaths, he forgot his mission. Eagerly, his hands picked up any volumes he could reach without the ladder tipping over, and he sipped in eager drops the ancient wisdom, a few pages at a time, admiring the crude but honest illustrations before, with a heavy heart, putting them back on the shelf.

Finally, he reached Torchia. A few of his works were there, the same ones mentioned in the ledger, but not the Delomelanicon. Tom brushed his finger on the shelf, and it came up with a fluff of dust. Hadn’t been touched for a long time…

It occurred to him as he climbed down the ladder that they could have had hidden compartments, as such bookstores sometimes did. Borgin and Burkes did too, although theirs was hidden by magic. Muggles would have had some contraption hidden behind a painting or shelf. He cast another glance around him before moving forward again, step by heavy step. Between those dormant shelves, he saw another surreptitious doorway toward another room.

III

The place grew labyrinthian. Tom felt as though he was disturbing a tomb, and without even needing to his steps grew gentler. The ring around his finger ached again, but he ignored it.

He was exploring a glass case with a pyramid of skulls in the corner of a room three doorways from the entrance, further in the building and blissfully chill on the exposed skin of his arms and neck, when suddenly he noticed something about the creaking of the floorboards: he couldn’t hear it anymore.

Tom looked down, his shoes soft on the carpet, and shifted his weight. No sound, but there was a bit of a tilt beneath him as the wood moved. He moved to the side and toed the carpet away. At first glance, he noticed nothing strange, but when he cast Revelio, a piece of metal shone and the edges of a trapdoor revealed themselves before him.

“I’ve got you now,” he grinned.

He stepped away, grabbed the edges of the carpet, and folded it further back. It was a trapdoor alright, large enough for two people to fit through. The area was clean, as if it saw regular use. Could it be a secret way into and out of the shop? Well, he’d seen her always use the front door, so it was most likely a storage area.

He dug into his trouser pocket for something, anything that he could use, and found the Swiss army knife he’d gotten from Clement. The thought occurred to him that it was a misuse of a gift to rob a bookshop with it, but that thought died quickly in Tom’s heated mind. He had a job to do.

He slid its blade between the folds of wood and pressed the handle down. Marvolo’s ring squeezed and pulled at his finger, and Tom cursed at it to be quiet. The trapdoor undulated at the strain as he moved the blade around, but the thing was as good as nailed down on all sides.

“Come on, you piece of muggle trash, open,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

He pushed, edging the wood upwards, and the bit of leverage made it flap as far as its hinges would allow. Holding the wand between his teeth for light, he moved it slightly, checking in every direction for a keyhole. The only thing he found was a burn mark that shone in the faint light, small and round and crested. It was probably a hidden button or a kind of keyhole, the kind of which he’d seen before in a couple of places both at Hogwarts and elsewhere. Tom grinned, moved the blade there, and pressed harder right beneath it.

“Aaaah!” he groaned, nearly dropping the wand from his teeth.

The ring was shooting pain all the way up his arm now, and his muscles strained. He clenched his teeth and pressed the blade in further, deeper, but the longer he tried to get it open, the more useless the attempt seemed, and he was overcome with a feeling of wrongness — as if he actually cared that he was trespassing.

He got up, sighed, and wiped the sweat off his brow. The feeling of guilt that had been bubbling in his stomach crested and crawled up his bones until he felt the sickness in his throat. He was overcome with the desire to leave and put this place behind him. A traitorous thought…

No, he wasn’t feeling sick. That nasty little door was enchanted. There was probably a curse on it, not too dissimilar to those placed on Egyptian tombs, meant to ward prospective thieves away. The emotions that swirled in his breast, the guilt, the shame, none of it came from him. It was something he was forced to feel by whatever enchantment guarded the place. What an insidious little spell… He frowned and pointed his wand down at the trapdoor again.

“Finite incantatem.”

Nothing happened.

“Finite incantatem!” he said again, more clearly and imperious.

The trapdoor mocked him with its silence. Tom looked down at his wand as if it were impotent.

“Of all the damned… Revelio,” he cast again, but nothing new appeared. “Alohomora!”

And that was when it struck him.

The spell worked, but just for an instant before it was undone and something fired back at him. A shard of death crawled up his spine and pooled inside his heart, pushing him backwards into the sharp edge of a table. The lamps on it rattled from the impact.

He felt dizzy for a moment, his body numb and cold, then nauseous when his senses came back to him at once. Pain billowed at his lower back so hard it filled his throat with bile. He clung to the edge of the table and kept himself just barely standing, managing the breath to groan.

“By Salazar’s f-fucking… Ow!”

Among all the sudden pain, he noticed that his arm was numb. The ring had stopped hurting him. It got its point across… The door was cursed, and so severely that, if not for his Horcrux, he surely would have died.

Tom clenched his teeth and hissed at the bothersome little entrance, cursing it in parseltongue. He kicked the carpet back over it and rubbed his aching hip where he already felt a bruise forming. There was nothing else he could do there, at least not tonight. He’d have to go back to his hotel, hopefully not limping all the way, and plan his next steps.

“I’ll get you yet,” he muttered with a parting glare. “And whatever mongrel of a mage made you.”

[queenofdragons12]

❝ Ugh, Get a Room! ❞ —  Wooyoung

A/N: ive tried not to back off on the things I've done here so just ingore the no info thing going on.

Small sunbursts of sunlight filtered through your window, painting the room in a delicate glow. You slowly blinked awake, your (e/c) eyes shimmering in the subdued morning light. A soft, groggy voice murmured nearby, and you turned to find Wooyoung, your boyfriend of five years, lying beside you.

His strong arms encircled your waist, creating a comforting embrace that sent flutters dancing in your stomach. The sight of his unadorned face filled you with a profound appreciation for his natural beauty. Even in this unguarded state, he remained captivating.

"Hey, Woo," you greeted, shifting in his embrace and leaning closer to plant a tender kiss on his nose. As your lips made contact, he instinctively scrunched it up, releasing an adorable giggle that resonated deep within your heart.

"Hmm, why are you so warm, baby?" he asked, snuggling closer to you. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him snugly against your chest.

"I don't know," you replied, playfully ruffling the back of his head. "Perhaps because we just spent the night together, Woo. You know, intimacy tends to make you warm and sweaty." A mumbled, incoherent response escaped your boyfriend's lips, accompanied by a tightening grip around you. You couldn't help but giggle, aware that you had touched a sensitive spot.

However, you decided not to tease him any further at the moment.

"Well, come on, baby. We should get you ready for your day," you said, gently prying his arms away from your waist. Pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, you stepped out of bed, got dressed, and made your way downstairs to prepare breakfast for the both of you. Wooyoung was never one to be particularly energetic in the mornings, but you didn't mind. It was enjoyable to prepare simple yet satisfying meals that would nourish you throughout the day.

As you stood by the black and white stove, engrossed in your culinary task, arms encircled your waist, and you chuckled. "Woo, I'm trying to focus," you playfully scolded your boyfriend, who responded with a huff.

"Wanna be with you, haven't for months," he breathed, his voice laced with longing and fatigue. A tender smile curved your lips as you allowed him to stand there, holding you, while you continued working.

Soon enough, breakfast was ready, and you patted his hands, asking him to give you a bit of space to move around. He reluctantly obliged, grumbling under his breath. Your kitchen boasted a large floor-to-ceiling window, allowing the sunlight to pour in, bathing the room in a warm, inviting glow. It was such a cozy space, and you knew that Wooyoung wouldn't want to leave your side.

However, duty called, and you had to ensure he made it to work on time. Although you had the day off, you planned to spend some time with him before parting ways. Nevertheless, you didn't want to become a burden or distraction to him.

Hearing from Hongjong, his leader, you were aware that Wooyoung seemed to perform ten times better when you were around, perhaps due to his desire to impress you. And he certainly excelled in that regard.

You placed the deliciously prepared food on the table, and both of you settled down to enjoy the meal, signaling the start of the day ahead. The aroma of the freshly cooked dishes filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. With each bite, you savored the flavors, appreciating the simple pleasure of a shared breakfast.

Conversations flowed effortlessly between you and Wooyoung as you exchanged stories, plans, and aspirations. It was these moments, these intimate conversations over a table laden with sustenance, that strengthened your connection. As you relished the delicious food, the day unfurled before you, brimming with possibilities and adventures waiting to be explored.

The world outside beckoned, yet in this cozy corner of your home, time seemed to slow down. It was a sanctuary where the outside pressures and responsibilities faded away, allowing you to fully immerse yourselves in each other's company. Laughter echoed through the air, intermingling with tender words and shared glances, painting a vivid portrait of a love that grew stronger with each passing day.

With breakfast concluded, you cleared the table together, a seamless choreography of synchronized movements and shared responsibilities. As the dishes were washed and put away, the world awaited your presence, ready to be embraced. With hearts filled with love and contentment, you embarked on the journey of the day, hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges or joys it may bring.

And so, the day began, with the promise of adventure, the warmth of love, and the unwavering companionship between you and Wooyoung, embarking on a new chapter in your shared story.

~~~~

A/N: will make a part two perhaps but here you go some wooytoung !

[pbandjesse]

I decided to work from home today. I am really glad I did. I needed to be alone. And I got my work done and got stuff done at home and that was really nice.

I slept okay. But when I woke up I felt sad and off. James came in to say good morning and I let them know I needed to stay home. I texted Alexi and she was totally chill. And I went back to sleep for an hour.

When I woke up, Heather has texted me a few minutes before, asking me to answer an email and do some back end changes to our registration. Can do! It didn't take long. I had to do a little detective work to make the changes necessary and discovered that the website was still talking about the CIT program. Which we are updating. And had a lot of wrong info, including the cost and the name. So I would reach out the Heather about that. And went to get dressed.

I would change 3 times. I was not feeling nice. About myself. But it would get better throughout the day. My eye was slightly swollen still. My bangs weren't laying right. I was just frustrated with myself for being upset about myself.

James left me a sandwich and I would eat that before I got on my computer to do some other work. And I was making great progress. I worked on a slideshow for the open house this weekend. Which took me a really long time because there is not a way to mass upload photos to slides. Like you have to place each photo individually. But it was fine. I was glad I had something to do.

I would take a break and worked on some painting in the stairwell. I was able to tape the paint brush to the extending pole and got all the edges and it was fun. I was having a good time.

I was standing on the ladder painting when I heard someone knock on the door. I went down and no one was there but when I leaned out the door I saw a man and he was like. Oh I'm knocking for the neighbor. But then proceeded to knock on my window? And I was like oh that's the confusion that's my window! And he was so embarrassed! I was like it's all good but it was funny.

I had lunch after that. I texted Heather some questions for the vender documents so I could work on that. I tried having a Celeste pizza, which was my absolute favorite as a kid. It ended up hurting the wound on the roof of my mouth and was strangely creamy. Like it wasn't horrible but the pain made me stop eating.

While it was cooking I started working on drawing on the ceiling in the studio. I had a thought about drawing a sunburst or a flower around the ceiling light. And so I drew that out. Had my lunch. And went back to paint it. It will need another coat for sure to cover the pencil but I love how it looks. I texted my mom and said how it's great owning a house. I can just do things. It's great.

I would work on starting to draw out a map for the music festival. And once I was as far as I could go before I got more info, I headed downstairs.

I would work on the living room. Now that the one walk is in a good spot I finally moved the small book case to it's new home:next to the couch. I took down the board I put there as a temporary piece. I had to move all the objects I had on the book car and got everything moved and started decorating. And I'm just thrilled. I looks so good. There is still a lot to do. But I'm really happy.

I would do some measuring for the next bookshelf I need to create for the weird transition spot between the living room and kitchen. It's such a weird size so I am going to have to build something myself. Which is fine. But will take some thinking. And my bandsaw.

I would go through our flat art box. Pulled out some pieces and put others away. James would out the box in storage later on but for now I just made sure my art was out and everything was ready for hanging that I wanted up.

I would hang a few little pieces. And made some choices about where things will get hung later. I would put our plant shelves outside. And just some small poking around. I put my little beer can lamp up and created a makeshift shade with a piece of tracing paper. And I just love the warmth it brings. I still need another lamp for the living room but I'm really happy with the progress.

A little before 4, after double checking there was no other stuff for me to do work wise, I would get in the couch with a snack. I was really cold all of a sudden. I would get cozy on the couch and waited for James to get home.

When they did get back it was still raining a little. They made a big fuss about how nice everything looked. They also had a package for me and I was excited about that.

They were excited to paint. I had started taping out the backsplash and they had finished that so they could jump right in. And they would spend the next hour or so painting and it looks so good. They are going to wait til the morning to take the tape down and put everything back. But I am thrilled with how it looks.

Before they did the second coat they would go to Burger King to get dinner. I felt very weak all of a sudden when they came back. The food helped. Even if it still hurts the roof of my mouth. Ouch.

We would talk while they painted. Sweetp was being really cute and cuddly. It was nice. It was a really nice evening.

Eventually I would come up here and try on the dress I got as a possible option for Sam and Paul's wedding. And I think it will be a good option for the week. At least one of the events for sure.

I came up stairs to hang a few things. I also tried to change the door knobs on my closet but I couldn't get the handles off because the screws are stripped. The people who flipped this house did such a shitty job about that. We keep running into this issue and it's so frustrating. I'll figure it out but not tonight.

James fixed the one curtain rod that got bent. And I worked on hanging up all of our enamel pins. I finally got a new canvas banner for them. And I'm really happy with how they look against the black fabric.

Now I am very tired. It was a really nice day. And I am hoping that it makes me feel nice enough to tackle going into work tomorrow. And like. It will be fine. I love camp. I just hope that emotionally I can pull myself together to get there.

After camp tomorrow I have a workshop! And I'm really looking forward to it. I have 4 sign ups right now and I would love to have 6 to 8. But regardless I will have a great time. And I hope you all have a great day tomorrow too.

Sleep well everyone. Take care of yourselves! Goodnight!!

[plisuu]

1. Mercy

Rating: M

Relationship: Cullen x Male Trevelyan

The Herald was delivered from the Breach by the hands of Andraste herself. He was the destined savior of the faithful, in shining templar armor, sent to them in their time of need. The truth of Connor Trevelyan was far more complicated, and the bright brand of the Chantry sunburst upon his forehead offered no answers.

Read on Ao3

Snippet:

The Ostwick Circle fell quickly. It started with a death, a demon, and a shout in the main hall. It ended with an explosion—a blast that shattered glass and stone and bones indiscriminately. The rebellion ended as it had started: with one person at its center. Not a mage, but a templar, covered in blood and brimming with magic.

The Circle’s Harrowing chamber lay in shambles, barely recognizable in the aftermath. Rich tapestries lay in half-burnt piles of ash, sculptures that once encircled the room were reduced to rubble, and shards of shattered stained-glass windows were strewn across the floors, the ceiling scattered with speckles of colored light.

Connor swept his gaze over the destruction. How many times had he stood in this room? How many mages had he killed here? How much blood had stained these floors? From his usual vantage point, he had considered this room to be a place of mercy—a chance for young mages to prove themselves, or an opportunity for dangerous mages to live a life of peace.

From where he stood now, it was desperate. The room vibrated with latent energy, the Fade leaching in at the edges of his consciousness, singing its power to him as he stood again at its center. He shuddered, flexing his hands, desperate to be rid of the feeling of magic that had coursed through them only days before and now lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating and electric.

Maybe this room could still be a mercy.

[cabinscreaking]

Old Town Bar (1892)

45 E 18th Street New York, New York 10003

The saloon that opened in 1892 in the working-class neighborhood of 45 E. 18th Street was, outwardly, not exceptional. The three-story vernacular brick building was unadorned, other than a modest but handsome cornice.

Veimieskie’s did, however, have unusual and attractive features unexpected in a blue-collar saloon. A row of three arched wheel-cut sunburst windows over the entrance replaced the more usual stained glass. Inside, 16 feet above the 55-foot mahogany bar an elaborate and unusual pressed-tin ceiling mimicked the plaster parlor ceilings of residential row houses.

Oil Painting "Old Town Bar" by artist Sharon Florin

Upstairs a dining room served German-style food to both ladies and gentlemen – below the saloon was reserved for masculine patrons. A dumbwaiter hoisted hot food from the kitchen to the dining room, saving waiters the rush up a flight of stairs.

The saloon managed to remain nearly scandal-free; perhaps the most notorious involving a pair of shoelaces in 1905.

On the evening of June 10th of that year, 13-year old Isidor Rosenberg entered the bar to sell shoelaces. One of the patrons, John Kroll, an etcher from Brooklyn, took a pair to examine them then did not bother to return them to the boy. Isidor left the bar, sat on the curb outside and started crying.

Before long a sympathetic crowd had gathered, among them 25-year old W. J. Buckly who, pretending to be a police officer, attempted to drag Kroll away until two actual policemen, Patrolmen Lynch and Rogers, ran up. Buckly quickly hid in the cellar of the saloon where, after a time, the policemen found him “with the aid of lighted matches.”

According to The New York Times, all three were arrested – Kroll on the charge of “larceny of a pair of shoe laces,” young Isidor was charged with selling shoe laces without a license and sent to the Gerry Society (The New York Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children), and Buckly was arrested for impersonating an officer. As indoor plumbing was improved the men’s restroom was outfitted with immense porcelain urinals in 1910. The deep fixtures were designed and patented by Winfield E. Hinsdale in 1901 to suppress splashing.

With 1920 came Prohibition. In New York the threat of Prohibition was, for saloon keepers, mostly about whom they knew (and paid). The bar became Craig’s Restaurant and, essentially, continued business as usual. Al E. Smith – the dominate Democratic force in New York – stopped in regularly.

With the repeal of Prohibition came another name change, this time to The Old Town Bar. By the middle of the century it was owned by Henry Lohden who, other than hanging a neon sign out front, carefully retained the 19th Century atmosphere. Reportedly the attractive ceiling was last painted in 1952 while the bar was closed for election day. Since then layers of history have been permitted to accumulate.

In the 1970s former newspaper worker Larry Meagher became manager of Old Town and today it is managed by his two sons. Little has changed inside. The multi-colored mosaic floor comprised of thousands of octagonal tiles remains, as do the beveled plate glass mirrors behind the bar. The original gas lamps, now electrified, still glow and the dumbwaiter, now the oldest in the city, is still in use. And those giant porcelain urinals are still in place.

The bar was used for the title scene of the David Letterman Show opened each night during the 1980s and appeared in movies such as “The Devil’s Own,” “Last Days of Disco,” “Bullets Over Broadway” and “State of Grace;” and on television was used in “Sex and the City” and in “Mad About You” provided the exterior of Riff’s Bar.

Madonna sang down the length of the bar in her Bad Girl music video.

Among the handful of authentic, unaltered 19th Century saloons left in Manhattan, The Old Town Bar ranks as one of the best.

[british-carbaryl-blog]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 2 vintage Art Deco Glass Ceiling Flush Mount Light Shade Frosted Glass Sunburst.

[duskylory11]

Breathe New Life into Your Walls: The Enchantment of Premium Mirror Strips Decoration

Bare walls can leave a room feeling sterile and uninspired. While traditional artwork and photographs are wonderful options, they can also feel predictable. If you're seeking a touch of modern elegance that injects both light and personality into your space, then look no further than the captivating world of premium mirror strips decoration.

A Symphony of Light and Space

Premium mirror strips, unlike their bulkier, traditional mirror counterparts, offer a unique design element. These thin, sleek strips, often crafted from high-quality acrylic or polished metal, come in a variety of shapes, sizes, and finishes. Their brilliance lies not just in their aesthetic appeal, but in their ability to manipulate light and space.

The reflective nature of the mirror strips bounces light around the room, creating the illusion of a brighter and more expansive space. This is particularly beneficial for smaller rooms or areas with limited natural light. Imagine a dimly lit entryway transformed by a strategically placed sunburst pattern of mirror strips, instantly welcoming guests with a sense of openness and warmth.

A Canvas for Creativity

The beauty of premium mirror strips decoration lies in its versatility. Unlike a single, fixed piece of art, mirror strips offer endless possibilities for creative expression. Here are just a few ideas to inspire you:

Geometric Delights: Play with geometric shapes like triangles, squares, and hexagons, arranging them in a modern, minimalist pattern on an accent wall. This creates a dynamic visual interest that complements clean lines and contemporary furniture.

Sunburst Splendor: Channel the sun's radiant energy with a burst of mirror strips radiating outwards from a central point. This design is perfect for a living room or bedroom, adding a touch of glamour and light.

Wavy Wonder: Embrace a more organic aesthetic by using wavy or curved strips to create a fluid, flowing design. This is ideal for softening a room with sharp edges or adding a touch of whimsy to a child's bedroom.

Frame the Extraordinary: Take your existing artwork or photographs to the next level by framing them with mirror strips. This adds depth and dimension to the piece, drawing the eye inwards and creating a focal point on the wall.

Beyond the Room: A Touch of Magic

The magic of premium mirror strips decoration isn't confined to your walls. Here are some unexpected ways to incorporate them into your living space:

Furniture Flair: Adorn a plain dresser or coffee table with a geometric pattern of mirror strips, adding a touch of luxury and reflecting the surrounding décor.

Ceiling Sparkle: For a truly decadent touch, consider using small mirror strips on your ceiling, creating a twinkling, starry night effect – perfect for a romantic bedroom or a glamorous powder room.

Closet Chic: Breathe new life into your closet doors by arranging mirror strips in a unique design. This not only adds a touch of personality but also allows for a quick outfit check before heading out the door.

Choosing Your Perfect Strips

When selecting your premium mirror strips, consider the following factors:

Material: Acrylic strips are lightweight and shatterproof, making them ideal for high-traffic areas or rooms with children or pets. Metal strips offer a more luxurious feel and can be found in a variety of finishes like gold, silver, or rose gold.

Size and Shape: Choose strips that complement the size and style of your space. Smaller strips work well for intricate patterns, while larger ones create a bolder statement.

Finish: Consider how the finish of the strips will interact with the existing décor in your room. A mirrored finish will create a more reflective surface, while a colored or textured finish can add a pop of personality.

The Final Touch: Installation

The beauty of premium mirror strips lies in their ease of installation. Most come with pre-applied adhesive backing, allowing you to transform your walls in minutes. Simply ensure the surface is clean and dry before applying, and follow the manufacturer's instructions for optimal results.

Embrace the Reflective Revolution

Premium mirror strips decoration offers a unique and versatile approach to wall décor. With their ability to manipulate light, create a sense of spaciousness, and provide endless design possibilities, they are a perfect choice for anyone seeking to add a touch of modern elegance and personality to their home. So, unleash your creativity, embrace the reflective revolution, and watch your walls come alive with the captivating charm of premium mirror strips.

[halfawitch-willow]

Long As You Don't Make A Habit Out Of It ❁ WSoH 3

Willow can't keep running on no sleep, so she decides to take drastic measures. After all, she has unlimited access to exactly one place in all of Swynlake where only she has the key. And something is waiting for her inside... Takes place on Oct 13th 1 // What Do You Want From Me, Blood? 2 // Someone Tell Lady Luck I'm Stuck Here tw: severe bullying, inappropriate use of potions, non-gory eye trauma, magick slurs, lovebombing by a magic death flower ((The first four trigger warnings are all in the italicized flashback btw. This is a rough one, y'all)

Willow probably shouldn’t be doing this.

It absolutely was not why Flower had given her a key, and honestly, sleeping in a room containing blood-thirsty plants was a hundred percent a terrible idea. Getting careless with dangerous plants was why the Plant Coven back on the Isles had a higher mortality rate than almost any other coven (if you ignored the rumors about Head Witch Snapdragon).

Unfortunately, Willow was desperate. The nap at the Court had opened the floodgates and Willow couldn’t force them back closed. She was exhausted, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fall asleep around Kim. She was perfectly lovely, and Willow knew that she could have done way worse for a roommate. It was just having another person so close made Willow tense all over to the point of pain. She could not sleep, not knowing that the moment she did, she left herself vulnerable.

Willow stumbled into a wall, crying as her eyes stung and her upside-down vision spun and spun. Her glasses laid shattered on the floor, though with the hexes that had been cast on her, they wouldn’t help. Her arms and face were burning from the boil potion that had been slathered on her in her sleep, and her hair and nightie were both soaked. 

She could hear Boscha and a few of her other friends laughing around the room, Willow’s spinning vision unable to stay on any of them. She could barely see Boscha’s scroll aimed at her. “Skara!” Willow sobbed, falling to her knees and curling up against the wall. “P-please!” Where had she gone!? The sleepover had been going well, hadn’t it? They had even set up their sleeping bags next to each other in the grand sitting room in Skara’s family home so they could whisper and giggle together long after the lights had been turned off as they fought off sleep.

She’d woken up to cold water being splashed on her and a loud, cackling “Wake up, Half-a-Witch!”

“Aw, poor thing,” Boscha cooed, her voice gentle as acid. “You really thought Skara would stoop that low?”

Willow’s next sob hitched in her chest. No. Nonono, they’d been getting along! Ever since that project in their Bardic History class. Skara had even apologized! What had Willow done wrong!?

“Why would she want to roll in the dirt with a stupid Mudbreather like you?” Boscha cackled, and Willow saw feet on the floor that was where the ceiling was. She tried looking down and the other teens all cackled. Willow looked up, and Skara was standing over her with a bucket. Willow couldn’t make out the other girl’s expression through her tears and hexed vision. 

“Don’t-” Willow sobbed.

Skara turned the bucket over her head and Willow was drenched in mud.

Willow had pockmarks on her arms still from the boils Boscha’s potion had given her.

So no, sleeping in the dorms was not an option. Sleeping at the Lightfoot's was not an option, though Eilonwy had hinted several times that she would be down for a good ol’ fashioned sleepover. Willow actively liked and trusted Eilonwy, and the suggestion had still nearly made Willow retch with anxiety, so that was out.

Jessica’s office at the Court had a lock that only opened from the inside without the key.

The restricted greenhouse only had one key, and it was in Willow’s hand.

She let herself in slowly, trying not to rouse any of the plants inside. The greenhouse was lit by the moon and the softly glowing Sunbursts, shining like tiny stars. Flowers didn’t ‘sleep’, not the way people did, but they had cycles of inactivity that came pretty close. Some flowers, like the Wolfshowl and vampire roses, were almost nocturnal thanks to their short cycles.

The huge, purple flower at the back of the room swiveled to watch her walk in, and Willow froze. Right. That.

“Willow” it crooned in something close to her own voice, but sweeter and huskier. Some of the thicker vines that spilled over the edge of the raised bed rose towards her, as if wanting to be closer. Willow’s head was filled with a sense of relief and love, all-encompassing adoration, and she almost wanted to run from it. It was so much.

Willow had no other options, so she walked inside and closed the door. She set her box down on the floor, the sleeping bag she’d ordered the day before inside. She crossed the greenhouse until the vines could reach her hands and twine between her fingers. A wave of love and devotion crashed over her, and Willow struggled not to buckle under it.

“Hello,” she whispered. The flower was easily the size of her head, the rose-like petals a deep mauve. It looked like a hybrid between a Whisperer and a vampire rose, and it was distinctly demonic. Not dangerous, though. She didn’t think, at least.

“Hello” the flower giggled back softly, its voice now closer to a younger Amity. It repeated the greeting a few times, its voice slowly changing. She swore she heard her grandmother -- who had been dead for almost ten years now -- and her Dad’s voices.

The Wolfshowl had started to whimper and whine softly, confused. She usually has her visits to care for the flowers on a pretty regular schedule.

“I’m just here to get some sleep,” Willow explained softly, not wanting to rouse the other flowers. The vampire roses stayed coiled up in their own bed, not willing to get too close to the hybrid flower that was now singing wordlessly to her in what sounded like Eilonwy’s voice. “Is that okay?”

staystay reststayrest sleep stay safe the flowers sung to her, at least the ones awake enough to hear her question, and the hybrid flower was practically purring. 

“Sleep” it echoed, now sounding like her Papa. It made her heart ache to hear it. She had been keeping her calls home brief ever since she learned she was part-fairy; too worried that she would just blurt it out if her Dad asked her what was wrong in that warm, welcoming way he always did to encourage her to pass him some of her troubles.

She’d crack like an egg, and then they’d be gone.

“Safe,” it promised, first in Edward’s voice, then Hunter’s, then Jessica’s. Willow’s knees were threatening to buckle under her from exhaustion, and she nodded with tears in her eyes.

“I know,” she whispered. “Thank you.” Willow took a deep breath, and with a wave of her hand, a thick shrub grew up in front of the door as extra security. She allowed herself a tiny, private smile at the display of magic. She would never be accepted back on the Boiling Isles with a Garden talent, but by the Titan, she would learn how to control it. If only just to keep from giving herself away again like she had with Amity.

She pulled her concealment stone off and set it on the table before grabbing the box with her sleeping bag in it. After opening the top with a pair of garden shears, Willow pulled out her new sleeping bag and looked for a place to set it up. The hybrid sang and cooed at her in a mishmash of voices, Flower’s and Winston’s joining the others, and Willow brought the bag to the space of floor in front of it. She knelt to roll the bag out, but stopped.

“Promise you’re not going to drink my blood or something?” she asked tiredly, and it laughed like Edric.

“Safe,” it chirped in her own voice again, full of love. “Safe here.”

She couldn’t sense any deception, and flowers didn’t really give off emotional reagents for her to use as a gauge, so Willow just had to trust it. “Okay,” she sighed, rolling her sleeping bag out. After a moment of consideration, a soft layer of moss appeared under and around it, cushioning the hard stone floor. Willow set her glasses down on the work table and stretched out on top of the sleeping bag with a soft sigh.

“Goodnight,” she murmured, and the hybrid echoed her in a handful of voices. 

Willow fell asleep quickly with the hybrid singing wordlessly to her again, this time with her Papa’s voice, and her dreams were full of lush green forests, with trees that moved across the ground with slithering roots and birds that laughed and called and screamed in the voices of everyone she knew.

When she woke up, the hybrid was singing an old lullaby from the Boiling Isles, and one of its thornless vines was wrapped around her wrist and between her fingers.

[coloradospringsstainedglass]

Why Modern Stained Glass Is a Beautiful Choice in Colorado Springs

New Post has been published on https://coloradospringsstainedglass.com/2023/09/14/modern-stained-glass-beautiful-choice/

Why Modern Stained Glass Is a Beautiful Choice in Colorado Springs

Modern stained glass offers a stunning way to bring art and beauty into contemporary homes. With its origins dating back centuries, stained glass has evolved to encompass countless styles from traditional to abstract. Here in Colorado Springs, the popularity of modern stained glass continues to grow as homeowners discover its ability to add unique flair. From leaded glass to beveled designs, the possibilities are endless.

In this blog, we will explore the rich history and evolution of stained glass along with current trends. We’ll also detail the many clever applications for incorporating modern stained glass in Colorado Springs homes. And we’ll provide guidance on customization options, maintenance, costs, and working with a local studio. Read on to learn why stained glass is an excellent choice to elevate your home’s style and value.

A Brief History of Stained Glass

While many people associate stained glass with medieval cathedrals, its origins date back much further. As early as the 7th century BCE, ancient Romans and Greeks used colored glass to create mosaic-like decor. By the 10th century CE, stained glass adorned churches and basilicas across Europe. Artisans shaped glass and lead into breathtaking windows depicting religious imagery and events. Dubbed the “Poor Man’s Bible,” these vivid scenes illustrated stories for largely illiterate populations.

Stained glass evolved from the Renaissance period’s figural themes to the abstract and geometric forms of the Art Nouveau and Arts and Crafts movements. Frank Lloyd Wright often incorporated prairie-style themed glass into his structures. These nature-inspired designs continue to influence modern stained glass today. The medium expanded beyond religious contexts into more secular settings like private residences and civic buildings.

While early stained glass could be prohibitively expensive, modern glass manufacturing innovations made it more economically accessible. Contemporary artists have pushed the medium in new creative directions with inventive techniques and avant-garde designs. Once relegated mainly to windows, stained glass now appears in everything from room dividers to tabletop art.

Popular Modern Styles of Stained Glass

Beyond classic medieval motifs, contemporary stained glass encompasses an array of styles:

– Leaded glass – Pieces of colored glass separated by lead cames creating crisscross patterns

– Art deco – Bold geometric shapes like zigzags, chevrons and sunbursts

– Prairie – Frank Lloyd Wright inspired, earthy tones and prairie-style motifs

– Abstract – Non-representational designs focused on color, texture and form

– Contemporary – Sleek, creative styles incorporating current trends like metallics

– Minimalist – Clean lines and simple shapes create an airy, modern aesthetic

– Beveled glass – Multiple glass bevels refract light for jewel-toned sparkle

– Picture window panels – Stained glass artwork sandwiched between two pieces of glass

The evolution of stained glass allows for unlimited design options to match any aesthetic.

Modern Stained Glass Trends

Several stained glass trends resonate with Colorado Springs homeowners:

– Colorless glass – Provides privacy without obscuring light. Choices like leaded, beveled, and diamond glass sparkle beautifully.

– Minimalist styles – Clean lines and simple shapes for an airy, modern look.

– Large-scale installations – Bold stained glass walls, dividers and ceilings make a dramatic statement.

Stained Glass Applications in Contemporary Homes

Stained glass offers versatility to enhance any space when thoughtfully incorporated:

– Windows – Traditional and modern styles illuminate rooms with artful light.

– Doors – Welcome guests with a vibrant focal point in an entryway.

– Transoms – Unify design above interior/exterior doors.

– Sidelights – Flank doors with coordinated lit glass.

– Room dividers – Define spaces with partitions boasting light transmission.

– Wall art – Install colorful abstract pieces or subtle textured glass.

– Kitchens – Kitchen stained glass windows provide an eye-catching twist.

– Bathrooms – Obscure glass ensures privacy near windows and in showers.

– Bedrooms – Soften morning light and add peaceful ambience.

– Ceilings – Skylights and hanging panels make unique lighting statements.

The options for stained glass features are virtually endless to enhance any home’s style.

Benefits of Modern Stained Glass

Beyond beauty, stained glass offers additional perks:

– Natural light diffusion – Allows light to permeate while diffusing harsh rays.

– Privacy with style – Glass can obscure views without sacrificing light.

– Unique aesthetics – Custom art glass immediately enhances decor.

– Higher home value – Stained glass is an exotic detail that appeals to buyers.

– Timeless appeal – While trends come and go, stained glass remains classic.

– Curb appeal – Distinctive windows or entryways create great first impressions.

– Artistic expression – Make a unique statement with custom stained glass.

– Illumination – Catch, reflect, and refract light in eye-catching ways.

– Versatility – Use in traditional or modern settings, any room, large or small applications.

– Durability – Stained glass properly maintained can last decades or centuries.

Customization Options

One of the best facets of stained glass is the inherent customization. Bespoke art glass tailored specifically to your home’s architecture and interior elevates the entire space.

Some customization considerations include:

– Design – Work with our artisans to create a one-of-a-kind look by rendering your vision or concept pieces.

– Color palette – Selecting hues to complement your color scheme ensures cohesion.

– Size – Thoughtfully measure openings and walls to determine perfect proportions.

– Style – Match existing aesthetics like modern, traditional, coastal, etc.

– Space – Consider the room’s purpose and traffic flow when planning stained glass placement.

– Budget – Prices vary based on factors like complexity and materials. We offer options at all price points.

– Theme – Incorporate meaningful motifs like flowers, seascapes, geometry patterns, or abstract shapes.

– Glass types – Select from stained, painted, leaded, beveled, or a combination.

– Function – Factor in privacy, light control, insulation, and energy efficiency.

The right stained glass design hinges on tailoring to your personal needs and tastes.

Maintaining and Caring for Stained Glass

To keep stained glass looking its best:

– Use a gentle glass cleaner and microfiber cloths to avoid scratching surfaces.

– Avoid harsh chemicals and abrasive scrubbing.

– Inspect lead cames and solder joints periodically for any needed repairs to prevent moisture damage.

– Have protective storm glass installed for exterior windows for added insulation and security.

– Check for broken glass or lead immediately to avoid cracks worsening. Most studios offer repair services.

Simple precautions preserve the enduring beauty of stained glass for decades to come.

Cost Considerations

Prices for stained glass vary based on:

– Size of the piece – Labor and materials increase for larger installations.

– Complexity of design – Intricate details and custom work raise costs.

– Installation needs – Professional installation and finishing also impact budget.

We offer stained glass across all price points and will work within your budget.

Local Stained Glass Studio in Colorado Springs

As a family-owned stained glass studio established in Colorado Springs since 1991, we offer:

– 30+ years of expertise creating custom stained glass.

– A stunning showroom to view designs.

– Master artisans on staff providing impeccable craftsmanship.

– Consultations to match the glass to your home’s style.

– Local installation crews to professionally finish each unique project.

– Personalized customer service and access to our artists throughout your project.

– Competitive prices and financing options to fit any budget.

Modern Stained Glass Adds Contemporary Style

Modern stained glass introduces creative beauty into homes with light diffusion, elegant privacy, artistic flair, and added value. The possibilities are endless for stylish stained glass features in any space. As a local Colorado Springs studio, we expertly guide you through the rewarding process of designing, fabricating, and installing breathtaking custom stained glass. We have served neighborhoods like Briargate, Old Colorado City, Broadmoor, Westside, and Rockrimmon for over 30 years. Contact us today to learn more about illuminating your home with stunning stained glass.

Explore Options for Modern Stained Glass in Colorado Springs

For a consultation or quote on incorporating beautiful modern stained glass in your Colorado Springs home, contact Colorado Springs Stained Glass today.

[detectiveichijouji]

Case 7 - Sunbursting Justice?! (part two)

[AO3 version!!]

[← Previous]

Touya’s situation was sad. He lied to Daisuke. The truth was he got blackmailed by Eigen, a person (?) who managed to learn about how some digimon could be perfect for scams. He learned about Monzaemon’s abilities and targeted the first Monzaemon tamer he found. Touya wanted to refuse, but… A creepy aura started to surround him and he felt afraid of something bad happening to him and his family.

Once Miyako discovered the place where the suspicious ‘Lovely Therapy’ was taken, the group put their plan in action.

“Hello!” Hikari and Daisuke went there, with Pucchiemon, “Is there where we can get a sample of the new therapeutic method?”

A man received them, “Oh yes, please get inside and we will prepare you a session, but those are not for free.”

“Oh don’t worry about money!” Hikari said with a cheerful voice, “Anyway, using Monzaemon for those sessions might cost you time and money, right?”

“Hm?”

Touya was in silence, but he noticed Daisuke approaching him. Then the goggle boy whispered something in the other’s ear, who nodded in return.

“What do you mean, ma’am?”“I mean… My Pucchiemon would be a great deal for your business~”“Hm… Let’s see…”

Daisuke opened the building’s window to let Tailmon and Shurimon get inside. They stopped in a spot where no one could see them from the ceiling and waited.

Then, Daisuke returned, “Wow this Lovely Therapy is indeed worth a try, Luka-san.”

“W-wha…” Eigen blinked, “Kid, did you get in there without paying?!”

“Don’t worry, here’s my fee. Luka-san told me about it and I brought money. It’s in the car outside, I’ll get it” and he left the building.

“If he’s not coming back…” Eigen squinted his eyes at Hikari and Pucchiemon.

“Don’t worry, he’s not lying!” Pucchiemon replied with a smile, “He only left the wallet in the car by accident!”

But Daisuke left to warn the rest of the group, hiding two buildings ahead from their current location. He used Lighdramon to reach them pretty quickly.

“Everything’s set!”  Daisuke whispered to Ken, Miyako, Iori and Takeru plus the remaining mons.

“Alright!” Miyako’s glasses reflected the light of her laptop’s screen, “Now go back, use this card when purchasing the session and I’ll immediately hack their system!”

“Where did you get that…?” Armadimon asked, impressed with those gimmicks.

“Izumi-senpai is forming a team to start his own business and I’m part of this team as his junior heh heh~”

“Ya know… I hope to never make Miyako mad…” Daisuke muttered to the other boys and mons, who nodded in response. He returned quickly by using Lighdramon again, left his partner outside and then used the credit card in the card machine.

“Good. Transaction approved.”

“Right now that we paid you… Think about our offer” Hikari winked, and then gestured to Pucchiemon come with her and Daisuke leave the building. But then the door got blocked, “Huh?”

“I can’t let you leave and mess with my business miss,” Eigen said calmly, “You asked to be part of this, so… You have to stay.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You will have to stay and do what I want, or else… ”

“Or else what?” Daisuke snapped, trying to not blow his disguise (yet already doing it so…)

“Your families will be paying for messing with my business.”

“Eigen-san” Touya interrupted him, and approached “You don’t need to involve those two in your business, let them go. Please.”

“They know too much, I can’t let them get out here alive…” the shady man’s voice turned cryptic, as if he wasn’t human at all.

“Uh… I left the stove on and my noodles will be overcooked--” Daisuke babbled, and then whistled to Lighdramon to break in. The digimon then used his own body and strength to knock down the door and invade it.

“You won’t be leaving this room…” Eigen’s eyes flashed in red.

“Wh-what’s going on here!?” Lighdramon asked. (so did the others watching it from Tailmon’s camera…)

“Aaah, I think your plan is not working anymore!!” Touya in a whisper to himself.

Suddenly, a digimon appeared behind Eigen, who kept acting strangely. The digimon was GrandDracmon , the vampire king digimon.

“R-really!? A digimon RIGHT NOW!?”

“Hold on!” Miyako’s voice reached to the communicator earpiece Daisuke and Hikari had, “I’ll catch the digimon image and analyze it with the digivice aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand…!!”

“M-Miyako, this is not the right time to analyze things! Quick, let’s get out of here Touya, Hikari-chan!”

“THERE IT IS!! OH, OH NO NO NO NO!!” Miyako seemed panicked, “You guys get Touya-kun out of there and NOW!! This is a Final level digimon!”

“F-final level!?” Daisuke and Hikari exclaimed, Daisuke with a grimace and Hikari with a frown.

“The paper Touya-san tossed away had the word ‘GRAND’ on it, it was actually a code for ‘GranDracmon’, Daisuke” The duo heard Ken’s voice this time.

“GranDracmon…”

“Tsk, using this man’s desire to gather easy money as an energy source is exhausting” GranDracmon stretched his arms and four legs, then his wings, “Oh, you’re the famous Chosen Children who finished Vamdemon, huh?”

“Nice, he knows us,” Daisuke growled, “I should’ve used that fake mustache…”

“How would that have helped us now!?” Hikari, Touya and their digimon (plus Pucchie and Shurimon) complained.

“... Touya, are you friends with this kid? Really?” GranDracmon sighed, “What a waste of time and friendship.”

“You…!! Don’t talk about him like that!” Touya yelled, then Monzaemon used his special secret Lovely Charm -- which tried to weaken GranDracmon’s powers for a short time.

“What do you plan to do with a useless attack like that!?” the king of vampires laughed. He was ready to use his special move when Daisuke shouted:

“PUCCHIEMON AIM AT EIGEN-SAN! USE THE LOVELY BEAM ATTACK OR SOMETHING!!”

As expected, Daisuke didn’t know what he was talking about, but luckily Pucchiemon did get the message. The armor-type fairy digimon shot a light of Heartner Beam on Eigen…

“NO!!”

… cutting his ties with GranDracmon and setting him free from his petty and shady tendencies.

Monzaemon and the digimon took the kids and Eigen out of the building, with the help they could avoid a fight. (Tailmon had Armor-evolved to Nefertimon by the way…)

“KEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN, JOGRESS EVOLUTION RIGHT NOW!!” Daisuke cried from a distance.

“I guess it didn’t work…” Armadimon frowned, “How can we deal with that digimon, dagya?”

“... We can't,” Miyako answered, “Maybe if we seal it away…”

“Throw him into the Digital World?” Takeru said with a serious gaze, “Or what if we use…”

“... the Heaven’s Gate technique” Ken seemed to read Takeru’s mind, “HolyAngemon’s special ability could be enough to stop this wicked digimon. And since it’s an archangel type, this means it will be effective against a demon beast.”

“Like Miyako-san says…”

“Bingo (dagya)!!” Miyako, Patamon and Armadimon said together.

Lighdramon, Nefertimon, and Monzaemon stood in front of the group. Shurimon was carrying Pucchiemon, while Daisuke and Touya were riding on Lighdramon, Hikari riding on Nefertimon and Eigen had been carried by Monzaemon.

Patamon warp evolved to HolyAngemon, Lighdra-and-Pucchie devolved back to V-mon and Wormmon, evolved to XV-mon and Stingmon and finally Jogress evolved into Paildramon. Shurimon and Nefertimon alongside Ankylomon (who had just evolved from Armadimon) stood in front of the humans with Monzaemon, blocking and shielding innocents in the area.

“Imperialdramon would be nice now, but… Too big, right?” Daisuke asked Ken’s opinion, “But like, what if we…” he whispered something to Takeru and Ken, plus their digimon.  

“Nice idea, Daisuke (-kun)!” the other two said together.

“Alright… Paildramon, you know what to do!!”

“Right!”

Paildramon used his stingers and its cables to capture GranDracmon, who was weakened by Monzaemon’s temp effect and because Pucchiemon cut his link with Eigen. The vampire digimon was smaller than the usual for his species only because of that, making it easier for Paildramon to throw him in the air, evolve into Imperialdramon and grab him very quickly.

“NOW, HOLYANGEMON!” Takeru ordered.

“Heaven’s Gate!!” HolyAngemon drew a circle with his sword of light -- Excalibur -- and once he completed it, a door in the same shape opened. Imperialdramon moved the paw with GranDracmon and shoved it into the gate. GranDracmon tried his best to not be absorbed by it, but it was useless. Imperialdramon stepped back and the gate did everything for them. It closed with the agonized shrieks from the villain digimon.

“If you had left your paw a little more… You would’ve been absorbed as well” HolyAngemon said, seriously.

Imperialdramon (V-mon part at least) looked at his paw.

“Okay… Was he joking or being serious?” Daisuke asked Takeru, clueless.

“He wasn’t joking Daisuke,” Ken then started explaining about HolyAngemon’s ability with his smart aleck pose.

“Thanks, you guys” Touya bowed his head, “Now I’m free from GranDracmon.”

“Thank you Childr-- Huh” Eigen broke in a cold sweat from those children’s gaze “Why are you looking at me like t-that?”

“If you don’t want to be exposed, better you return every yen you had taken from your victims” Miyako answered, her glasses reflecting the light of her laptop again, and then gestured to the laptop in front of her.

“E-exposed?!”

“Better you hear her, Eigen-san” Ken smirked, “Because we have all the information we need to put you behind bars.”

“I… I…!!”

“My mother is an investigative reporter and she would like this big scoop” Takeru smiled, doing his usual sarcastic and powerful ^_^ face

“O-ok, I will do whatever you say!!”

“You will promise no more scams or else…” Hikari used her cryptic and serious voice again.

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! I WILL DO EVERYTHING YOU SAY!!”

“Then we have a deal~ ♡” she smiled happily and cutely as usual.

Eigen had learned his lesson, and he accepted to work like a normal adult. He was minding his business now… Touya finally got free from that “job” and could keep his studies and usual hobbies all again. 

But, weeks after that case was closed…

“You’re Eigen Keitarou, right?”

Eigen was stopped by Soleil while he was heading home from his current job.

“Yes, I am. How can I help you?”

“You’re the one who was using a Chosen Child for scams, like the ‘Lovely Therapy’, right?”

“Yes… I was, b-but I’ve changed! I’m a… a good person now, I’m honest!!”

Soleil’s eyes were cold and sharp like a blade. He then snapped his fingers, and the same digimon who appeared and had scared the bully high schooler trio before… came from behind Eigen and caught him with those buff arms.

“W-what is this??” the man panicked, “I… I already returned the money and promised to not scam anyone else again!!”

“Are you sure?” Soleil said, nonchalantly. He took his phone from his pocket and read aloud a message from the Chosen Children Network, “ ‘Beware of Eigen Keitarou, he’s a scammer who only thinks about getting easy money by using the digimon for shady business.’ -- This was posted two days ago.”

“W-wh--!?”

“You never stopped, right? Besides, we’re leaving you a ‘ present’ though.”

“A w-what…?”

The digimon put a bow on Eigen’s head, and tied him with a rope. The mysterious duo made the man walk to the police office and left him there.

“W-what…?” The student with a phone in hands was chatting with another, “You know, that ‘Lovely Therapy’ scam? They arrested the scammer!!”

Daisuke, Hikari and Takeru were passing by when they heard those two girls’ conversation:

“Oh my…!! Is it true he was using innocent people with digimon to scam others? Did those people and digimon get arrested too??”

“W-what!?” Daisuke gasped, “D-do… Do ya think…”

“Oh no they were just called to testify against the scammer.” the girl replied to the other’s question.

“Ah that’s a relief! I know a friend who had their cousin forced to scam people with her Witchmon!”

Daisuke looked at Takeru and Hikari, they also were confused but quite relieved that maybe Touya wasn’t in trouble anymore. Yet… Didn’t they decide to let Eigen go with the condition that the man never do any other scam again? So… What happened?

“Maybe… he never learned…” Daisuke frowned.

“Bad guys are always bad guys, Motomiya.”

Daisuke, Takeru and Hikari looked to the side and saw Soleil there.

“Being honest with you,” Soleil said, with a smug smile, “A scammer will always be a scammer.”

“No one asked for your opinion!!”

“Well,” Soleil shrugged and left, “See you at the break, Digital World heroes.”

Takeru and Hikari suspected Soleil being involved with that case, meanwhile Daisuke was too busy getting mad to not notice it at all…

[fabulivonline]

How To Use Mirrors As The Perfect Decorative Accents In Your Home

How To Use Mirrors As The Perfect Decorative Accents In Your Home

Decorative mirrors are the perfect accents for any room in your home. Mirrors accentuate a space, drawing the eye to a particular area or focal point while also adding dimension to walls and ceilings. They can also be used as a way of making small spaces feel larger, providing people with a sense of discovery.

Advantages of Using Mirrors as Decor

Mirrors can be used as the perfect decorative accents in your home. They are functional, functional, and beautiful. Here are some of their advantages:

Mirrors can be hung on the wall or placed on a table to create an interesting focal point.

Mirrors can be used to reflect light and create a special atmosphere in your home.

Mirrors can help you decorate your home from different angles, so you can always see how it looks from different points of view.

Mirrors can be used as a way to add interest and uniqueness to any room by making it more interesting and unique than it was before they were added to the room.

Different Types of Decorative Mirrors

Whether you're decorating a bathroom or a bedroom, mirrors can be the perfect accessory. Mirrors are very versatile, and there is no reason why you shouldn't use them as the focal point of your room.

Here are some different types of decorative mirrors:

Wall-Mounted Mirrors: Wall-mounted mirrors can be used to create an illusion of more space in a room by creating an illusion of distance. This type of mirror is usually hung on the back wall of your room, where it will reflect the opposite wall. When working with wall-mounted mirrors, it is important to consider the size and shape of your room so that they do not take away from its overall design.

Tabletop Mirrors: Tabletop mirrors are great for small spaces because they do not take up much space at all. They can also be used in conjunction with any other type of decorative mirror to create a beautiful focal point for any room. They are available at many furniture stores and come in sizes ranging from 4 inches up to 48 inches in length.

Vanity Mirrors: Vanity mirrors are typically used in bathrooms and bedrooms as they are designed to be hung over a sink or dressing table. These mirrors can be framed or frameless, and they can be illuminated to enhance their functionality.

Sunburst Mirrors: Sunburst mirrors are a type of wall mirror that features rays of metal or wooden spokes radiating out from the center. These mirrors are ideal for adding a touch of glamour to any room and can be used as a focal point.

Leaner Mirrors: Leaner mirrors are tall, floor-standing mirrors that can be leaned against a wall rather than hung. These mirrors are ideal for spaces that lack wall space and can create the illusion of extra space by reflecting light and the surrounding area.

Mirrored Furniture: Mirrored furniture can be a functional and stylish addition to any room in your home. From mirrored coffee tables to mirrored chests of drawers, these pieces can provide a touch of glamour and light to any room.

Tips for Choosing the Right Mirror

Choosing the right mirror for your home is a lot like choosing a piece of art. It's all about the details, so make sure you get it right.

Here are some tips for picking out the perfect mirror for your space:

Determine the Purpose: Before you choose a mirror, think about the purpose it will serve in your home. Is it for functional use in a bathroom or a dressing room? Or is it simply for decorative purposes in a living room or entryway? Knowing the purpose will help guide your decision.

Size Matters: The size of the mirror is an important factor to consider. Make sure the mirror is proportional to the room it will be placed in and fits well with the furniture and other decor items in the room.

Frame it Right: The frame of a mirror can make or break the overall look. Consider the style of the room and choose a frame that complements it. Wooden frames are great for a more traditional look, while metal frames can add a modern touch.

Finish the Look: The finish of the mirror can also have a big impact on the overall look. For example, a distressed finish adds a rustic feel, while a shiny, polished finish adds a touch of glamour.

Natural Light: Consider the amount of natural light in the room and how it will reflect on the mirror. If the room has plenty of natural light, choose a mirror with a shiny finish to reflect it. If the room is on the darker side, opt for a mirror with a matte finish to minimize reflections.

Wall Space: Take into consideration the wall space you have available and choose a mirror that fits the space well. Don't overcrowd a wall or choose a mirror that is too small for the wall.

Budget: Lastly, set a budget for your mirror purchase. Mirrors can range in price from a few dollars to thousands, so knowing your budget ahead of time will help you make a more informed decision.

Conclusion

Before you start decorating your home, it is important to have a clear vision of how you want it to look. This is the first step in developing a good home decorating plan. After this, you will need to find the right mirror for your room.

Mirrors can be used as decorative accents in many ways. They can be placed on walls, tables, or cabinets. Mirrors with different sized and shapes can also add beauty and uniqueness to any room. You should also consider using mirrors on ceilings and floors to create a certain ambiance and mood at home.

You must get the right mirror for your room so that it complements the rest of the décor while also adding some uniqueness factor to the overall look of your home interior design.

[weekendhandyman]

Making Fancy Doorway Trim Moulding

Making Fancy Doorway Trim Moulding

Maker’s Mob Black Friday//Cyber Monday: https://go.themakersmob.com/black-friday-super-sale-ibuildit/?via=ibuildit I had just finished the lighted sunburst wood panel ceiling in the (more…)

[unhinged-summer-fun]

the art of second place

chapter 3: a taste of god

Elder God!Boba Fett x f!Reader (22+)

“You like playing with fire, don’t you?” he asked, his voice so deep it shook your insides like a leaf in the wind. You didn’t release his thumb from your mouth, only nodded around it.

Summary: You’re a sacrifice to the god who created the world and all its pieces, but what’s at the end of your fate isn’t what you quite expect.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.4k

Content warnings (overall): Tentacle sex, size kink, breeding kink, alien/strange genitalia, preganananancy, fatal religious sacrifices.

Chapter warnings: Discussions and demonstrations of What Dat Tentacle Do, aka blowing a tentacle and swallowing

Crossposted to AO3.

<- Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 ->

You came to looking at the stars. Or rather, a ceiling painted to look like the night sky, glittering and sparkling in the dim light. Unlike when you’d awoken in Boba’s living room, your head swam with them too, and almost as soon as you opened your eyes, you closed them again, the rush of nausea coming in like the tide. So now is when the hangover kicks in, you thought. With a groan, you rolled to the side, and covered your face with your arm.

“Are you alright?”

You looked to the right, still bleary-eyed and miserable, and saw Boba standing from a chair. He looked concerned, but reluctant to touch you at all. Though, he’d obviously picked you up to bring you into this room, as this wasn’t the hallway surrounding the courtyard. From your short tour, you recognized this as the sleeping quarters.

You’re in his bed.

“Fine,” you muttered, rolling onto your back again to hide the sudden flush to your cheeks. “Wh’appened?”

“You fainted and hit your head on a wall.” It was as if his words had been the cue for the side of your head to throb, discordant with the throbbing within it.

Wait.

Fainted.

Fainted why?

Oh right.

“Tentacles,” you whispered.

“At least you’re already horizontal this time,” Boba said wryly. “Did you expect me to look like a human?”

“But you do! At least...” you frown. “How far up do they go?”

He smirked. “Far enough.”

Your mind was instantly flooded with dozens of new thoughts and phantom feelings you hadn’t ever considered before this moment. You were grateful for the volume in the dress you had on, because within seconds, you were clenching your thighs together with wanton attention. You sat up.

“May I see them again?” you asked, eyes already trained on his lower half.

“Are you sure? You reacted quite badly the first time.” Boba left his hand bunched in his robes, not unwilling, but still cautious. “I’ve kept them hidden the last few hundred years. Humans don’t like them as much as they used to.” For some reason, him saying this made you sad. Your response came out a little sharper than you’d wanted.

“Humans don’t like what they’re not used to. I didn’t say I didn’t like them.” He looked like he wanted to respond to your first answer, but played it safe, and pointed out the obvious.

“No, you just fainted at the sight of them.”

You shook your head. “That was out of my control. It was bound to happen at some point.”

Boba’s laugh rang out again, and this time, the minute trembling against your body felt pleasant and joyful. You gave a helpless smile. “Very well, little one.” He lifted his robes again, and you held your breath.

They were still mostly green, but red in some places, just like you remembered from the first brief glance. The scars were just as haphazard as the ones on the rest of him. Certain tendrils wrapped around one another, a facsimile of legs. There were so many more of them than you realized, they’d just been intertwined and hidden. At your curious lean forward, one of the ‘legs’ unfurled itself, in a sunburst shape. “Incredible,” you whispered. “And you can move each independently? Did you have legs before? How did you know you could mimic legs with them? What happens when you--?”

He held up a hand, a gentle rumble of the room joining with his chuckle. “Easy, little one. You’re still recovering from a shock. One question at a time.”

You nodded, mildly chastised, and took a steadying breath to calm your rapid heart rate. “Have you always had them?” you asked first.

“They’re part of me, it’s not like I can remove them like clothes.” Your mind, still catching up, heard ‘remove clothes’ and send another few dozen naughty ideas straight to your core. You swallowed roughly. “I can sometimes shape-shift, but it’s not comfortable for very long.”

“Interesting,” you said, nodding along. “What’s the dexterity like on them?”

That same self-satisfied smirk returned, and you didn’t need him to say it for him to imply. Dexterous enough.

Now that you were thoroughly flustered, and he’d had his fun, he moved to put his robes back into place. “You don’t--” you started to blurt out, making him stop, and look at you curiously. He lifted an eyebrow. “This is your home. You shouldn’t need to hide yourself here for someone else’s sake, especially not mine.”

He seemed to grow unnaturally still. He was considering you, weighing your intentions and your meaning in his head. To be studied so thoroughly made you flush once more, and you shyly ducked your head, but didn’t take back your words.

“Very well,” he said, finally. He tied the robes off to the side with a small loop of cord, and the tentacles unfurled entirely from their once-solid shapes. You flicked your eyes back up to Boba’s face when he let out a sigh, relief flooding the Pocket like a cool breeze. You smiled at the look on his face.

“Was there anything else you wanted to show me? I know I kind of cut our tour short,” you continued.

“Are you sure you’re up for it? You’ve only just woken up.” He looked concerned, but the lines you hadn’t realized had been on his face before are now gone. Now that he didn’t need to control every aspect of his legs--tentacles, you corrected yourself--he had more of his attention on you. The air felt a little charged with that attention, in fact, the deep wells of his eyes in the dim light making him seem even more ethereal and otherworldly than you’d already thought.

“Maybe... something to eat, first?”

“We can do that.” He rose from the chair, and you stood as well, though a little shakier. He still seemed a bit nervous to touch you, guide you. With his tentacles a little more spread out, he stood a few inches shorter than before, but still taller than yourself. He gave you another once-over, assessing your ability to stand on your own, before he nodded and continued out the door. He still moved completely silently, the ends of his tentacles almost gliding across the floor in a smooth motion your eyes couldn’t track all at once. You shook your head and followed.

The kitchens looked the same as the ones at the Temple: brown, smooth sandstone walls with glossy clay tiles behind the cooktop, a central firepit for roasts and other long-cooking meals, a washing area, plates and bowls and cups all lined on open shelves near the front wall. You took it in, and felt a pang of nostalgia for home. Boba didn’t seem to notice it, though, simply gliding to the larder and returning with some ingredients in his arms. “Take a seat, I’ll make something for you.”

You did as he said without protest, for once. You craned your neck and tried to get a glimpse of what he was making, but the rest of his black robes hid it from you. “You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”

“I was raised to be,” you said, twisting in your chair. He had a few jars in front of him, but you couldn’t see him working. Instead, you watched the slight movements of his tentacles, the way they would calmly sway like grass in the wind, some of them grabbing to the counter for stability, and others still curling around one another, left with nothing to do. “Initiates have to want to know more at every turn, so they can grow up and be good little Sacrifices, full of knowledge and useless purpose.”

Boba stilled for a moment, and it may as well have been a flinch. You feared that you’d said the wrong thing. It was only the truth, the bitter, bitter truth you’d lived with for two decades. “I check in on the girls, you know,” he said softly, returning to his work again, though this time, his movements were slower, more thoughtful. His tentacles curled a little around one another, and for some reason, you thought of the gesture as an equivalent to someone wringing their hands for comfort, for relief from an awkward conversation.

“What do you see when you do?” you asked.

“They’re happy. Not a one has regretted the choice of the place they’ve gone. The one last year--”

“Marsola.”

“Marsola, her name is Ruby now, she’s a schoolteacher and is expecting her first child with her husband soon. The one from two years’ past, she’s a doctor in her village. They were meant for accomplishment and purpose, and all on their own, they’ve found it. Mothers, teachers, friends, doctors, explorers, every one of them for six thousand years.” He sighed and let his head hang a little. The tentacles even drooped slightly, coloring a paler, more muted green before your eyes. “You’re right. The rest of the world, and the faith, treat them like they’re expendable, but I don’t. I’ve never thought of any of them to be expendable.” Beneath his words lay a tone you felt he didn’t often get to use around others. It bled vulnerability like a fresh wound, but you hadn’t been the one to make the cut.

You thought over his words and the wounds beneath them, turning them over and over in your head like a river stone, smooth long before you’d ever touched it. No matter how you looked at it, there was really only one thing to say. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, returning with a bit more haste in his work. “Don’t let it worry you.” He turned and pulled a pan off the rack near the washing area, laying it across the brazier and pouring some oil in it. He then retrieved what he’d been making. It looked like a sandwich of some kind, though you couldn’t parse the ingredients from where you sat. He toasted it in the pan, flipped it a few times until he was satisfied, before slicing it in half and presenting it to you on a slightly-chipped porcelain plate, detailed with gold in the edges. “Enjoy.”

“What is it?”

“If I told you, you’d laugh at me.”

You paused, considering. “That’s fair.” You picked it up, and took a bite. Flavor exploded on your tongue, the warmth from the pan and the gooey drip of one of the fillings making your soul sing. It was sweet, and earthy, and crunchy, and tasted so damn good you actually started crying.

“Whoa, what--?”

“I don’t know!” you sniffled, taking another bite and chewing, more sobs hitching your breath and blurring your vision. “It’s so--*-nomf-*--so good.”

“You’re going to choke if you keep trying to eat and cry at the same time,” he said, getting up to grab something to drink. You managed not to die, eating the entire sandwich and wiping your tears on your linen blouse. “Here,” he said, pushing a glass of water into your hand and removing the other half of the sandwich from your death grip. “Drink that. Slowly.”

You nodded, still pouting through your tears as you drank. It felt like just what you needed, relief from the intense pleasure his food had brought you. “What is that?” you asked between gulps of water. So much for slowly.

“It’s a damned pee-bee and jay,” he sighed, frowning at the offending sandwich.

“What the fuck, that’s so cute,” you wailed, still strung out from how amazing it was. Is. Will forever be. Your hands snatched up the second half, and took another bite. Your body was ready for it this time, and instead of the overwhelming sensations on your tongue, it spread through your veins like a warm brandy, making everything look shimmery and sparkly for a few seconds before dissipating. You sniffled and looked over at him again. He had a look of mild horror on his face. “It’s so good.” It wasn’t the assurance you thought it’d be.

“You’ve said,” he said dully.

“Thank you, Boba. Thank you for this... this amazing pee-beejay.” Boba choked on his drink.

“Don’t mention it,” he wheezed.

You mourned the loss of the wonderful meal once it was gone from the plate. You weren’t still hungry, and the wooziness from fainting had all but dissipated, but there was still an undercurrent of craving beneath your skin, itching and squirming to be set free. Your eyes trailed, naturally, to the most interesting things in the room, which were slightly swaying and undulating beneath the tied-off bolt of black fabric around Boba’s hips. “You’re curious,” he said, inviting you to ask.

You looked up at him from your seat at the table. “They’re obviously part of you, and you move on them the way any legs would, but...” You bit your lip.

“You’re wondering if they serve another purpose?” he asked, reaching out and freeing your lip from between your teeth, his fingertips nudging you under your chin as they pulled back again. You nodded, too shocked by the quick action to speak. He smirked, but didn’t tease you, in your slightly affected state. “They can move all but silently, which helps when I go up to check on things on the surface. If I don’t have a pouch to hold things, they don’t mind hanging onto whatever I give them.” He demonstrated, picking up the empty glass of water on the table and holding it near his lower half. Without missing a beat, one of the thinner green tendrils slid up and around the glass before pulling it within the forest of other tentacles.

“Certain scholars have talked about the peripheral brain being what controls tentacles, in cephalopods at least.” Boba was clearly not a cephalopod, from what you could tell.

“They do seem to have a mind of their own when left unchecked. They don’t often get in the way of what I’m trying to do, though. They’re a part of me, and don’t work against me.” You nodded along to his explanation, and your mind took it a step further, wondering about what he said earlier, dexterity and other purposes. He was watching you curiously as he explained other parts of them to you, and trailed off when he noticed your eyes glazing over, daydreaming instead of being bored by what he was saying.

“These ones are more common in cephalopods, though they tend to break off during sex.” He reached down and pulled out a red tentacle, this one differently shaped from the green ones, ending in more of a rounded, bell-shaped head, almost like a... wait did he say sex? Your head snapped back up to meet his eyes, and you felt yourself turning as red as the tendril in his hand.

“You mean that’s...?” You couldn’t say it.

Ge grinned wolfishly at you. “One of the fun ones. Though, they can all be used for pretty fun things if given the chance, little one. Like I said, they have a mind of their own at times.”

You swallowed, but instead of your mouth going dry in embarrassment, to your mortification, it started to water. Was this what you were craving? What your subconscious was trying to tell you to do?

“So you have sex?”

He laughed again, making the tableware rattle shortly. “Not as often as I used to, when the world was young and so was I.” You had no idea what that meant, and it showed. “Some Sacrifices liked to... show their gratitude, so to speak. Not so much recently, as the times have obviously changed, taking a turn for the secretive and modest. In the early days, there was a freer aspect to their worship, sexual freedom.”

“And they... they liked it?” you asked, already half-decided that you, in fact, were one of the people who would like it.

The look on his face turned to smug satisfaction. “Very much so. Used to be that they couldn’t keep their mouths off of me--”

“You’ve made your point,” you said weakly, but you were now vividly imagining yourself as one of the lustful zealots, casting their wanton forms into the mouth of the sarlacc.

“Still curious?” he asked, keeping his expression neutral.

“I think so.”

“Would you perhaps like a demonstration?”

“What?” you whispered, gulping.

“Would you like a taste, little one?”

You’d fooled around a bit in your Temple years. While they only taught women and girls at the Temple, there were often men who came to work on the property, doing repairs, the like. In the town, when you’d been given time off of class on holiday, you’d been at least smart enough to not get caught, sneaking out to the little clubs and lounges that dotted the streets just out of view of the chaperones. When you’d become your class’s Summa, though, it had become more difficult to walk around unnoticed, in the sea of orange and brown robes that classified the other Initiates. In fact, it was incredible how Abelina was able to sneak around and get pregnant, being that year’s Magna.

That was a long way of saying it had been a very long while.

“Which... which one do I...?” You looked up at Boba helplessly, impossibly out of your depth.

“Whichever one you like, little one.”

You considered the tendrils before you, your hands pushing through them like fingers through hair. They trembled at your touch. How long had it been since they’d been touched? You chewed your lip as you thought, considering the array before you. However, another part of him pushed at your lower lip. His thumb rescued it once more from your teeth, and you looked up, mouth gently agape. Something in his gaze spoke of untold depths, and you wanted to know the very bottom of him. You opened your mouth a little further, and gently took his thumb in your mouth, cradling it with your tongue and holding it in place with the soft ring of your lips. His breath caught in his throat from above you.

“You like playing with fire, don’t you?” he asked, his voice so deep it shook your insides like a leaf in the wind. You didn’t release his thumb from your mouth, only nodded around it. You laved over the calloused pad of him. He had worker’s hands. You were intrigued by them, by the roughness there, typically only ever earned from a life of hard work. He didn’t need to use his hands, he had almighty power, the power to create planets and mountains and the wind and stars. Yet the fact he preferred to make things by hand endeared him to you that much more.

You pulled back, showing off the shiny slick on his skin your mouth had left. He moved his hand, his other four fingers pushing into your hair to tilt your head back up at him. Your eyelids fluttered a little, and you very nearly started to chew on your lip again. You let him look at you, pressing your head into his hold, leaning into the affection. Somehow, it was this gentle movement, not the erotic one from just before, which broke his resolve.

“Open your mouth, little one. I’m not finished feeding you.”

You gasped at his words, heat flaring all over your body, but mostly in your face and between your legs. You could feel your pussy throbbing, clenching around nothing. His nostrils flared, catching a scent that made his eyes only darken further. “You like when I speak to you like that, princess?” You nodded, at a loss for words around him, once again. “Then open up.”

You opened wide, and one of the inner tentacles, a deep red that seemed to glow in the dimming lights of the kitchen. It moved free of his hands, approaching your mouth slowly but surely. You were never one to drag things out longer than necessary. You surged forward and wrapped your mouth around the tip of him. Just like the first thing he’d fed you, the taste of him bloomed across your tongue like warmth at sunrise. You moaned and moved to take him further, wanting to wrap your entire throat around him. The hand in your hair tightened and prevented you from taking more than you were ready for. “Easy,” Boba’s rough voice chided. “Go slow.” He scritched at your scalp once, reassuring he wasn’t upset with you, before you nodded and started to bob your head in smaller, easier motions. “That’s it, little one. That’s it.”

He tasted like the burst of a ripe peach across your tongue, strange juices already leaking from the bulbous head of him. While you didn’t have too much experience in this department, you were sure that this was nothing like it normally was with other humans. You breathed through your nose, and moved slower, but deeper, until the tip brushed the back of your throat. Your body reacted sharply, at first. His fingers loosened, and almost made to push you off, but you brought your hand up to grasp the back of his wrist, telling him it was okay. You gave another few bobs, getting used to the feeling of him so deep in your mouth, and when he brushed the back of your throat again, a shiver of delight replaced the initial shock. You stilled at the feeling, just holding him deep in you and not moving. Your eyes closed, wanting to taste him with more devotion, more concentration to your senses. He gave a low groan, half-sighed as you took pleasure from the weight of him in your mouth.

“I’m going to move for you now, little one. You just stay there,” he advised, and you let out a hum of acknowledgment, opening your eyes again. They were glassy with pleasure and desire, you were getting used to the effect his taste had on you fairly quickly, and enjoying every step of it.

Slowly, the tendril slid back across your tongue, painting it with that fantastic taste again. It burst over your taste buds perfectly, and made you moan at the simple action. It slid back in, far enough to gently nudge the back of your throat again and trigger that shiver you’d given last time. It didn’t move like a cock did, still retaining its flexibility, same as the rest of the tentacles beneath him. The soft wet noises which filled the kitchen made your head swim. You were surely soaking the insides of your thighs by now, and you pressed them together to control yourself as he fucked your mouth. You knew your jaw would ache, like old knees in a summer storm, but you couldn’t care at all. You welcomed the feeling, hands fluttering in your lap for something to do.

Two more tendrils pushed into your palms, and your anxiety dissipated before it had the chance to rise. You held them with reverence, and for stability. They curled around your hands, the gentle pressure against your knuckles and wrists soothing you and grounding you. The tentacle in your mouth pushed a little harder against the back of your throat, making you moan softly against the intrusion. “You want it deeper?” Boba asked, voice shaking slightly. He squared his shoulders, and you nodded.

Your eyes widened as slowly, but firmly, the tip breached the back of your throat, leaking directly into your gut and blooming warmth into your entire body. It seemed to curl and mold perfectly to your insides, sending your eyes rolling back as your cunt imagined just what that’d feel like there. The soft noise you made around him came out as a garbled mess, and on reflex, you swallowed. It made Boba toss his head back and groan at the feeling, and the end of the tentacle not in your mouth pulsed bright red, glowing even brighter. The tendrils wrapped around your hands only tightened, matching his grip on your head. “I’m going to cum, little one. How do you want it?”

You were slightly panicked at the thought of him taking himself out of your mouth, so you surged forward even more, taking his length further down your throat. He could see the bulge through the column of your neck, and with that divine sight alone, he came, spilling thick and warm down your throat. You were lucky you kept swallowing on instinct, because the amount he gave you was truly incredible. You grew dizzy at the lack of air, and the second he’d finished, he carefully pulled himself from you, the red shaft and tip still softly pulsing, gleaming with your spit and his release. You couldn’t speak, the taste of him sitting like a drug on the back of your tongue. He was still panting softly, eyes squeezed shut, when you looked up at him in a daze.

“Good girl,” he praised weakly, around a wheeze. You leaned into his hand again, blinking slowly at him like a cat. His thumb swiped back out to catch the corner of your mouth, and when you looked down at his hand, you saw a bit of white, glowing liquid that must have been some of his cum which had slipped out. Hungrily, you sucked his thumb back into your mouth, cleaning it thoroughly until all you could taste was the feeling of his fingerprint. “That’s enough for now,” he said, pulling back. You whined at the loss, but noticed the tendrils around your wrists still hadn’t unwound themselves. “They’ll let go in a moment. They’re not used to having a mind of their own anymore.”

“I don’t want them to let go,” you said, voice sounding a little rough and wet. The taste of him coated your tongue and mouth like molasses, like honey, sticky and sweet and distracting. You found yourself idly running your tongue over the ridges of the top of your mouth, seeking out any further taste of him to enjoy. Your hands matched the grip of the tendrils around them, squeezing softly. “What else can they do?” you asked, meeting Boba’s eyes again.

It felt like the air in the room whooshed out all at once, for how still things had gotten. He looked at you in awe, but there was an unmistakable glint of interest, of desire, of hunger, glimmering in the back of his dark eyes.

“Let me show you.”

[pretchatta]

swoon june day 29: (ballroom) dancing

continued from day 21: fake/pretend relationship

rating: general; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 1350 words

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The gala was in full swing around them. A band played from one end of the huge ballroom as gowns of all colours swirled over the dancefloor, precious gemstones glittering under the soft lights. Guests who weren’t dancing were talking and mingling around the edges of the room, taking every opportunity to make important connections or simply show off their wealth. It was a sickening display of the extreme inequality that was not just present but practically encouraged by the Empire.

Kanan stood with Hera to one side, each holding a drink and surveying the room. Ignoring the fact that the event could have housed and fed one of the many small villages displaced by the Emperor’s demands for more land, it was a magnificent affair. Towering columns of pale blue stone held up the arched ceiling over the curved white dancefloor. All around it, small hovering droids threaded their way through the crowd, each mounted with a gold-edged white tray. Some carried drinks or canapés, while others collected empty glasses.

So far, none of the guests present were the person they were here for. Kanan didn’t have a description of their target, but Hera had told him they would have a golden sunburst emblem displayed prominently on their outfit. The riot of colour made spotting something that would normally be distinctive difficult, but they had made a few laps of the room and were yet to see the sunburst.

“Let’s dance,” Hera said suddenly.

Kanan turned to her in surprise. “What?”

She was still scanning the room anxiously. “Everyone else seems to have had at least one, and I don’t want to stand out. Plus, I’ll have a better view of the entrance from the dancefloor.” She dumped her empty glass onto a passing droid-table and grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

Kanan barely had a moment to put down his own half-finished drink before she was dragging him towards the dancefloor.

“But I don’t know how to dance!” he protested after her.

It earned him a sceptical look over her shoulder. “How can you not know how to dance? It’s easy, just follow my lead.”

She found them a space amongst the twirling couples and turned to him, still holding his hand in one of her own. She placed her other hand on his shoulder, and through the thin material of his shirt he could feel her fingers were still cool from where they’d been holding her drink. He didn’t know what to do with his other hand, and in his indecision it hovered awkwardly.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Here,” she told him, placing it on her waist. His fingers brushed the soft, bare skin of her back.

“Now try to follow my feet with yours.”

It took Kanan a few moments to register her words. Hera’s sudden closeness was very distracting. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating through the thin silks of their clothes, and the sweet smell of her perfume filled his nose. Her breath tickled his neck. It was almost too much; he was drowning in her.

Hera started to dance, and Kanan took drastic action. He reached for the Force. Its calm tranquility filled him and fortified him, drawing him out of the crowded ballroom slightly and enabling him to focus again. He followed the movement of Hera’s feet, trying to stay in time with them without getting underneath the sharp heels. The steps were simple, and it wasn’t long before they settled into a rhythm.

Kanan managed to hold himself together as they slowly traversed the dancefloor. Between his focus on the Force and on Hera’s steps he was unable to pay the slightest bit of attention to the room around him. The contact could have been dancing right next to them and he wouldn’t have noticed.

Once Hera saw that he was keeping up with her, she experimented with something different. She released his shoulder and spun away, still holding his hand, before twirling back into his arms. Her dress flared out around her calves as she moved, revealing more of her smooth, slender legs. She looked up at him with eyes that sparkled with the joy of the dance. Kanan’s heart skipped a beat; she was breathtakingly beautiful.

Kanan continued to draw from the Force and its unending serenity as they resumed their dance. He was starting to feel like the old teachings were coming back to him; with practise, he might even be able to do this with the ease he did as a child.

“I still can’t see the target,” Hera murmured in his ear, and it was enough to break his concentration. Fortunately, his feet seemed to have memorised the steps and didn’t need his brain to continue moving. It was taking everything he had to keep his voice steady as he replied.

“Maybe they’re not coming.”

“No, this contact has never let me down before. They’ll be here.” She sounded confident in her assertion, and Kanan really wasn’t in a position to argue.

The song wound down to its end, and Kanan felt relief. Being so close to Hera like this was simultaneously electrifying and agonising.

“Let’s go sit back down,” he said as the final cadence played. He started to take a step back from her, but her grip on him tightened.

“No – wait – I think that’s them!”

Her arms were suddenly steel, holding him in place as she craned her head over his shoulder.

“Where?” He tried to turn to see for himself.

“Don’t look, just keep dancing,” she hissed. “I’ll try to move us closer.”

The band started up the next song, a slower one with a different beat. Hera let go of his hand to place both of hers on his shoulders.

“Put your hands on my back,” she murmured, her lips barely an inch from his ear. “Keep following my steps.”

He did as he was told, both hands splayed against her bare skin. It was warm under his palms and he resisted the urge to stroke his fingers along her spine. She moved closer to him so that her chin rested on his shoulder and her chest pressed against his. The silk did nothing to hide the curves of her body; combined with the touch of her bare skin, it would be easy to imagine there were no clothes between them at all.

Don’t think about that, he told himself sternly. He wondered if Hera could tell he was feeling a lot warmer than usual. He reached for the Force again, trying to find comfort in its cool tranquility.

Hera led him in the new dance, slightly easier than the previous one. It was slower and had fewer steps, and it wasn’t long before Kanan could let his feet continue for him. There were more distractions with this one, however; as well as Hera being much closer, every now and then the tips of her lekku would brush the backs of his hands. Whenever that happened it was like the light touch was igniting sparks over his skin.

“I’ve got eyes on her,” Hera whispered. Kanan felt her breath over his earlobe.

His concentration faltered.

“Her?”

“Mikkian, middle-aged, blue skin. She’s got the golden sunburst on her shoulder; she’s definitely our target.”

He felt Hera slightly change the angle of their movement, guiding them across the dancefloor. The steps lengthened and Kanan needed to focus harder to follow them. If anything, the distraction helped.

The song reached its final cadence and Kanan found himself desperately hoping that Hera would let them stop dancing. Maybe even step outside for a minute. Fresh air would be good.

“She’s slipping out. This is our chance!”

A moment later Hera had slipped out of his arms and was moving away. It took his mind a few moments to catch up, and by then she’d taken his hand again and was leading him off the dancefloor.

They were now on the job: hunting an Imperial for tactical data.

This, he could do.

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To be continued...