#top 10 modern beside lamps
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10 Best Ways to Make Your Home Luxurious
Are you planning to add some luxurious features to your home? You don't need to spend a lot of money to enjoy a touch of luxury. To make our spaces luxurious, comfortable, and elegant, we should all have the services of experienced luxury interior designers.
Fortunately, there are lots of options for decorating a budget-friendly space. You can create modern luxury interior designs on a budget with a few modifications and design techniques.
According to interior designers, here are the top 10 ways to add luxury to your home
Remodelling a bathroom
Remodelling your bathroom is a wise place to start. Ensure that all fixtures and plumbing are up-to-date and functioning properly. Modern lighting, contemporary tiles, and luxurious flooring add a sense of luxury to a room.
The Plants will renew it
To instantly brighten up your space, you can add fake or real plants. The best way to add colour is with plants. A vintage, boho, or aesthetic vase or pot can add greatly to your space.
Wallpapers
Adhesive wallpapers have become a rage. These wallpapers are easy to apply and can be purchased from most online shops. This adhesive wallpaper is perfect for people who want to temporarily restore their space or try out new colours and designs in their homes.
Temporary wallpaper also has the advantage of being removable so you can change it whenever you like.
Be creative with your textiles
Your space will look dull and boring if you have a sofa, chair and cushions all in the same texture and fabric. You can make your space more appealing and dimensional by replacing boring pillows with a variety of textures and sizes.
Shades of neutrality
Everybody wants their home to be peaceful and tranquil. Neutral colours are a good choice. Neutrals are timeless and trendy so you don't have to redecorate. If you're looking for a quick update, replace the artwork, furniture, or lighting.
Upgrade your Hardware to Create a Luxury House Interior
You can instantly improve your space by replacing old hardware with sleeker, more modern pieces for a fraction of the cost. It can be used on kitchen cabinets, bathroom cases, or bedroom furniture to give new life to an outdated space.
Lighting Upgrades
Lighting is another easy way to bring luxury to your home. Light with warm tones can add a sense of luxury to a room. Lamps are the most relatable examples of decorative light, as they draw attention to specific features. Luxurious house interiors can be enhanced by adding stylish and soothing lighting. Hanging lights above your dining table and a long side lamp beside your sofa are good additions.
Make Space
A great way to make your space feel more luxurious is to open it. This can be done by simply rearranging, decluttering or investing in storage products.
When there isn't enough space, you can extend it by clearing out unwanted furniture and stuff. Your balcony can be decorated with sitting areas.
A luxurious touch
Your home can be adorned with high-end products like antique gold, solid wood, and marble. To instantly add luxury and style to your home, replace modern ornaments with antique ornaments or books.
TakeYourStyle to the Area
For a luxurious experience, give your furniture some attention with a few simple but well-designed pieces. After narrowing down your selection of decorative accessories, decorate them in an attractive way. Here are some tips for arranging your coffee table, dining table or benches.
Conclusion
Renovating and creating luxury house interiors is not a difficult task. With effort and time, the task can be completed on a budget. Adding luxury to your home can be achieved in a number of ways. In order to remodel your home with the help of a professional interior designer, you can contact us. Thethekedaar Interior offers luxury interior designers to help you with your home design needs. You can rely on our experienced designers to go above and beyond your expectations.
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Top 10 manufacturer of Labradorite Gem-stone
LABRADORITE SLABS
EXOTIC LABRADORITE SLABS
The inherent beauty of labradorite slabs is abundant. The stone looks smooth and comes in both light and dark colours. It is frequently used in ornamental items for homes and workplaces, including pendants, earrings, cabochons, and pendants. Labradorite slabs can be used for things besides jewellery too. They can be utilised, for instance, to develop gorgeous interiors. The inherent beauty of labradorite slabs is abundant. The stone looks smooth and comes in both light and dark colours. It is frequently used in ornamental items for homes and workplaces, including pendants, earrings, cabochons, and pendants. Labradorite slabs can be used for things besides jewellery too.
When designing interiors with diffusers for natural light, interior designers frequently utilise slabs of labradorite. Diffusers of natural light are things or pieces in a space that take in ambient light and reflect it upward to enrich the ambiance of the space. Diffusers of natural light are advantageous for the occupants of places like hospitals, restaurants, and offices. In addition, by simulating the effects of sunlight on the walls and furnishings, the usage of natural light diffusers in homes can raise a space's degree of comfort. Wool is incorporated into design elements like carpets and upholstery for natural light diffusers. Additionally, slabs of labradorite can be used as diffusers for natural light inside various design components to add to the décor.
Due to its remarkable optical qualities, including high transmittance and high opacity, labradorite is frequently utilised as a natural light diffuser. Transmittance, also known as the brightness factor of a slab of labradorite, is the ratio of the amount of sunlight that goes through the slab to the amount of sunlight that it reflects. The percentage of ambient light that may travel through a slab is determined by its opacity factor, which describes how dark a slab appears in direct sunshine. Labradorite's high opacity and transmittance make it the perfect material for making diffusers for natural light because they increase both brightness parameters while absorbing extra ambient light from windows or artificial sources like lamps and torches.
The Labradorite slab is not only a strong stone, but it can also turn any area into a stunning work of art. One of the top producers of labradorite slabs in India, JSB Stones offers a vast selection of the highest calibre slabs to all of its customers.
In essence, labradorite is a hard stone that is widely employed in modern slab and surface manufacturing. Since labradorite absorbs excess indoor lighting while also reflecting some indoor lighting upward toward our eyes, it is also utilised to form a natural light diffuser within the body.
Due to this characteristic, labradorite provides a perfect decorative element for rooms that are designed to be functional rather than busy or overly adorned. This type of stone is frequently used by designers to create modern interior designs since its geometric patterns mirror current trends and, at the same time, raise the ambiance level of the space thanks to its natural attributes.
Additionally, because they absorb excess indoor lighting while also reflecting some of it upward towards our eyes like a mirror, slabs of labradorite are also utilised to produce a natural light diffuser within the body. Due to this characteristic, labradorite makes a perfect decorative element for rooms that emphasise comfort above chaotic or overly adorned aesthetics. This sort of stone is frequently used by designers to create warm, cosy home environments since its smooth appearance goes with the majority of current interior design trends.
Due to its distinctive qualities, such as their high brightness factor, high opacity factor, and capacity to diffuse artificial indoor lighting up into our eyes—making them perfect for constructing natural light diffusers—labradorite slabs have several uses in interior design. Therefore, these lovely stones are unquestionably deserving additions to any designer's toolkit!
One can see the typical texture and feature of this slab as well as the brilliance and brightness of this brilliant stone slab. A great selection of labradorite slabs are produced and supplied by JSB Stones in India. The aura is balanced, protected, and sealed from energy leaks by this stone, which is also a shield against many harmful energies. This stone may bring out the best in people, making it a good choice for the workplace. If you are finding the best Labradorite slab Manufacturers, Get it touch with Precious gem surfaces.
Visit us on: https://www.preciousgemsurfaces.com
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The Revolution That Illuminated the globe is LED Lighting
Light-emitting diodes have been around for years. Traditionally, they have been used as indicators on electrical devices, such as standby lights on TVs. This was because LEDs were only available in red, but recent advances mean that other colours are now available, and the light emitted is much brighter.
LEDs were once only used in a limited number of products because the colours available were restricted, and it wasn't brought to light that they could be used in a far more beneficial way, saving money and energy in comparison to traditional lighting. An example of how LEDs have been incorporated into modern society in exciting new ways are ambient lighting and electric candles.
Replace A Few Light Bulbs at a Time.
● Work out how many bulbs you can afford each month and buy a few at a time. Even just once a month will eventually get you there. Replacing bulbs gradually is not only more affordable but also more sustainable.
● Plus, you will be able to take advantage of advances in technology and drops in price as they happen (as LEDs become more mainstream, it is predicted that the prices will come down).
● Another side bonus is that your LED bulbs won't then all reach the end of their life at the same time 10 or 15 years down the road. You will then again be replacing them gradually with the newest, most energy-efficient technology than current.
Use Of LED Bulbs in Decorations.
● The earlier notion that LED can only be used on television sets and car tops is slowly dying out with the innovation of LED bulbs. This sort of lighting has improved the use of light to colour and bring glamour into any setup.
● Besides the colourful atmosphere that these lights create, they are also preferred for being convenient and efficient in their use and more energy saving.
● LED bulbs have both interior and outdoor applications, more than any other type of lighting product, learn more about them and how to use them to decorate your living space.
Power saving
● LED lighting is extremely energy-efficient, using a fraction of the electricity of fluorescent lighting. This is an especially important concern with lightboxes, which are generally switched on for long periods, if not 24/7. This reduces the running costs of the light box considerably.
Home Improvement: Lighting
When we think of tables, be they in a room or an office, table lamps always come to mind. This is from the conception of the idea of having something to hold the source of lighting while using the table like when reading, writing, or just working on them.
If you want to know more about the same, consult with the professionals.
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Top 7 Ways to Lose Weight Overnight
Sleep deprivation may be telling your body to store fat. With these professional tips, you can sleep better and burn more calories.
Weight loss without dieting might be difficult. So, who wouldn't appreciate simple techniques to increase calorie burn and boost weight loss? Now, it the question comes of how to lose weight overnight.
A balanced diet and regular exercise routine are essential, but there are certain strategic modifications you can make to improve your sleep for fat burning.
While the concept may seem far-fetched, studies indicate that it is feasible to lose weight while sleeping. Recent studies show that modern living interferes with the human body's natural circadian rhythms. Indeed, this disruption may be pushing the body to store fat when it should not.
Top 7 tips to lose weight overnight
Get plenty of rest
To maximize your weight loss, you must first get enough sleep.
"Sleep is required for regular hormonal and immune system function. A tired or sleep-deprived brain is a hungry brain, and sleep deprivation contributes to weight growth." Hence, it is essential to have a healthy sleep routine.
Avoid excessive cardio
Cardio is fantastic, and there are numerous reasons it should be a component of any training regimen.
The weight loss testimonials show that strength training should be included as well, especially for those who desire to benefit from nocturnal weight loss. It is because strength training burns calories even after the workout is complete. Beyond work, a trip to the gym or even a modest at-home strength session can keep the body in calorie-burning mode all night, even after bedtime.
Keeping a set of dumbbells or a resistance band beside your bed is a visible reminder to incorporate full-body strength exercise at least three times weekly.
Engage in bodyweight exercises
Have no access to a gym or dumbbells? Anyone can engage in strength training by using their body weight. Perform 10 squats before bed, followed by a 30-second holding plank. Alternatively, you can walk around the house one lunge at a time, followed by a few minutes of knee-based modified pushups.
Incorporate hand or ankle weights into your walk
You don't have to give up your daily stroll to undertake strength training; simply pick up a set of 1- to 3-pound dumbbells or put on a pair of ankle weights to turn your walk into a strength training and cardio exercise in one.
Because strength training is vital for muscle growth and fat loss, incorporating weights into your workouts whenever possible is a smart strategy to increase your calorie-burning potential all day (yes, even when you sleep).
Practice yoga
Multiple weight loss testimonials confirmed that certain yoga poses could assist in relieving anxiety and stress in the mind. Sit erect on the bed with your legs stretched out in front of you, then hinge forward at the hips. Feel a stretch at the backs of the legs (the hamstrings), and take five calm, deep breaths in and five out. Feel a melting towards your legs and flex your feet.
Perform this before bed to help soothe the nervous system and encourage greater sleep quality.
Sleep in moderate temperature, darker setting
It was found in recent research that people who kept their beds at a constant temperature of 66 degrees for one month raised the quantity of calorie-burning brown fat in their bodies by up to 42% and increased their metabolism by 10%.
Weight loss specialists also suggest getting rid of the night light if you want to slim down while you sleep. Sleeping with a light on appears to disturb the circadian rhythm of metabolism, increasing the risk of weight gain.
As a result, turn off your TV, phone, and any bedside lamps, and think about purchasing blackout curtains to keep off ambient light from piercing your bedroom window.
Eat regularly
As per world renowned weight loss specialists in blue springs,MO, "Our bodies operate on a circadian rhythm, which is a 24-hour schedule that our bodies employ to help us function." "It's the intrinsic clock of the body." It's important to plan meals in advance because they significantly impact our circadian rhythm.
For example, you might want to reconsider if your usual dinner time is between 6 and 8 pm. Your body will know when to prepare for incoming food by releasing 'hunger hormones ghrelin and leptin, digesting the meal, and then releasing the hormone melatonin to help us wind down for sleep.
If we stick to the same approximate plan, our bodies will be prepared, and we will be able to make the most of our meal and sleep times."
To Conclude:
A bad night's sleep makes you grumpy and can cause you to gain weight. According to research, sleeping for less than eight hours a night raises levels of the stress hormone cortisol, which has a detrimental impact on the microorganisms in your gut and slows your metabolism.
Sleep deprivation can also disrupt your appetite hormones, making you more likely to eat junk food.
Fortunately, by following the above-mentioned simple tips on how to lose weight overnight, you may reverse course and keep your metabolism running overnight, helping you lose weight while you sleep.
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The Ranch {7}
An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.
Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty x @tacmc
Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.
Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.
A/N: We are absolutely blown away by how much y’all enjoy this story. We’ve loved writing it for you and we get just as excited for a new chapter as y’all do! Enjoy. xx
The Ranch Masterlist
Nesta hated going to school.
She felt so overwhelmed, so crowded, so completely lost in the sea of people that filled the halls of Velaris High School. Elain and Feyre had always found their place within those halls fairly quickly, absolutely, but Nesta floated. She went from one class to the next, sticking her nose in a book every chance she got. She didn’t make friends. Didn’t have acquaintances.
She did have one go-to, but he didn’t go to VHS. He was in the next town over.
Tomas Mandray.
As soon as she sat down at her desk in algebra, she pulled out her phone. She had three missed messages.
10:31 - Hey. I’m planning on picking you up later.
10:42 - We could stay in, if you want. (;
10:56 - I’ll be out of town this weekend, so spend time with me now.
At first, Nesta almost didn’t reply, but then she typed back, I’ll be ready at 7.
She hated that she loved Tomas Mandray.
———
At seven o’clock on the dot, there was a knock on the front door of the house.
“That's Tomas, I’ll be home later!” Nesta hollered, trying to get out of the house before her father could drag her boyfriend into another conversation about the merits of a lightweight rope versus one with more snap.
“Hold on just a minute!” Isaac called, coming from the kitchen. “That boy is headed to Guthrie this weekend.” Nesta groaned as she pulled open the door and her father practically yanked him through the threshold. “You planning on bringing home a buckle?”
“Yes, sir,” Tomas smiled, shaking his hand. “Always.”
Isaac nodded and said, “Damn straight, I remember my trip to the National Championship, granted, I rode Broncs, mind you, but-.”
“Dad, we have to go. We have reservations,” Nesta coolly lied. “I’ll be home around 10:30.”
Her father waved her comments off. “Nah, don’t worry about a curfew tonight.” He rested his hands on Tomas’ shoulders. “It’s not everyday your future son-in-law makes it to the National Junior Rodeo Championship.”
Nesta’s cheeks burned. “Right. Well, we really have to go.”
She was hurrying out the door, dragging Tomas by the hand as she did so.
“Good to see you, Mr. Archeron!” Tomas called, as Nesta shut the front door behind them. “I like talking to your dad.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t,” Nesta said. She hated when Isaac talked to Tomas. He was so certain that he and Nesta would be together forever, and the thought often made her sick to her stomach yet hopeful at the same time. It was a strange combination.
She climbed up into the passenger side of Tomas’s truck and leaned back as he took off.
“I missed you.”
Nesta nodded. “You, too.”
He reached across the middle of the seat and took her hand. “So, will you be coming to watch me this weekend? It’s the National-”
“-Junior Rodeo Championship, yeah, I know,” she finished.
“Damn, what’s stuck up your ass?” he muttered.
“Nothing,” Nesta sighed. “I wish we could, but dad says we have two couples staying the whole weekend.”
As much as she hated to admit it, she was almost relieved when her father told her that a group of friends had booked the weekend last minute. The last thing she wanted to deal were the buckle bunnies in training that followed the rodeos around. She wouldn’t have to deal with the cheap beer and the greasy food and tobacco spit and the blood and sweat and (usually) tears.
His thumb rubbed a circle into the back of her hand. “Well, maybe just you could come. You could leave with me after lunch tomorrow. You know your dad would sign you out.”
She shook her head. “I can’t, they need me to cook for the guests.”
It was true. No one else in the house had an ounce of culinary ability, and it just so happened to be Nesta’s favorite thing in the world.
Tomas frowned. “No one else can cook for the guests?”
Nesta shook her head. “None as good as me. Besides, I love cooking.”
“Cooking is a stupid thing to love,” Tomas said, and Nesta stilled. “Why cook when you can come watch me win a national title?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have an answer that would please him.
“Besides, after we graduate, you’ll be coming with me on the road all the time,” he went on. “May as well get used to it now.”
“I’m not sure I want to go on the road all the time,” Nesta said. “You know it’s my dream to open my own restaurant, I can’t really do that if I’m travelling with you.”
Tomas shook his head, laughing quietly. “Come on, Nes.”
“Come on, what?” She asked, turning to look at him. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Is my dream not as important as yours?”
“Of course not, that’s not what I’m trying to say, babe. It’s just,” he reached over and skimmed his knuckles across her cheekbone. “If you stay here and open a restaurant, and I go pro, we’re never going to see each other.” They came to a stop at a red light. He turned to her. “I love you. Don’t you love me?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Of course, I do.”
“Then you need to come with me. So we can be together. Promise me you’ll think about it.”
Nesta only nodded, agreeing that yes, she would think about it, but she already knew it wouldn’t happen. She wasn’t made for the rodeo life.
Just like her mother hadn’t been.
It was because of her mother that they even had the ranch, because she loved Nesta’s father, but didn’t love the city to city, night to night lifestyle he lived in the professional rodeo circuit. So after they got married, and Nesta was on her way, her mother had convinced Isaac to hang up his ropes and buy the ranch. And he’d loved it.
And it worked for them, Nesta’s parents. Isaac found his love in ranching, they got to be together and raise their girls. But Tomas would never be that. He was too hard headed, too stuck in the rodeo life. He loved it, and Nesta had to admire that, but she didn’t have to give up her dreams for that admiration.
She was going to become a chef.
She was going to stay put, in the city, or maybe go somewhere like Paris or Barcelona or Tokyo. All she knew was that the last place she wanted to be was stuck in a truck, driving from city to city for the fucking rodeo.
She just didn’t know how to tell Tomas that, because Tomas never accepted an answer that wasn’t the one he wanted to hear.
Nesta was so caught up in her own thoughts that it took her nearly fifteen minutes to realize they weren’t on the way to the restaurant. But it took her only a few seconds later to realize where they were going. “Tomas, please, not tonight. We can’t have one night without it?”
He gestured to the arena. “It’s a round robin, babe. I’ll run eight head max and walk out of here seven hundred dollars richer.” Nesta only rolled her eyes and looked out the window. He went on, “Plus, I heard from Beron there will be sponsors here tonight. Granted, they’re here for some big headed jock from VHS, but once they see me, he won’t matter.”
Nesta stopped listening, but subconsciously, she knew that Tomas talked until they parked.
“You don’t even have your horse,” she said, as a last ditch effort. She knew this fact hadn’t somehow escaped him, but she didn’t understand what he was hoping to accomplish by being here without Rain.
“Oh, I’m buying one,” he laughed, as if that was such a minor thing to forget. “Yeah, that’s the whole reason we’re here. So, I can test out this horse. If she’s got some crack to her, I’m not putting a national championship on the line.”
Nesta couldn’t believe him. He’d taken their last night home together and hijacked it.
Pulling into the dirt lot, Nesta breathed a heavy sigh. Tomas hopped out of the truck and reached into the backseat, grabbing a beer out of the cooler and popping the top. She laughed incredulously. “Are you serious?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you something, too,” he smirked, lifting the wine coolers out of the ice. She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t that she was looking to drink, too. It was that, once again, she’d been overshadowed by roping. “Come on, I gotta go warm that horse up.”
“I’ll be right there,” Nesta said, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing her sister’s number. “I need to ask Elain something real quick.”
“Alright, well, hurry up,” he said, smacking the roof of the truck. “I want you to get some video of me I can post.”
Grinding her teeth, she nodded, and put the phone to her ear. Tomas shut the door and Nesta lowered the phone back to her lap, never even having pressed the call button. She looked out the truck window, out over the fields, that rolled on and on, and just saw...nothingness.
Without thinking about it, Nesta hopped out of the truck, threw her purse over her shoulder and began walking towards the road.
The rustic back roads of Velaris weren’t lit with street lamps, so she pulled her phone out and used it as a flashlight. After about fifteen minutes of walking, her phone died and she was left in the dark.
An older truck, heading in the direction of the arena, stopped when they saw her walking along the side of the road. An unfamiliar voice called out, “Hey, are you okay?”
She didn’t answer.
“Miss? Do you need a ride?”
She kept walking and ignored the truck, passing it and disappearing into the darkness.
————
At quarter after midnight, Nesta finally walked up the worn wooden steps of the ranch house. Her phone had been dead for hours and by the time she reached the city, she knew her family would be asleep.
She wondered if Tomas had noticed her absence. She wondered if he’d tried to call her.
She unlocked the front door and crept in, trying to miss the creaking board by the living room doorway.
“That you, Nes?”
She sighed, hoping he wouldn’t come into the foyer, where she stood with one door already on the first step. ��Yeah, dad.”
He groaned as he sat up on the couch. “Tomas with you?”
She swallowed heavily. “No, sir.” She started to ascend the steps. She looked like shit, he couldn’t see her like this, covered in dust and who knows what else. She didn’t want to tell him what happened, didn’t want to deal with him telling her that Tomas was the best thing to ever happen to her. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”
She hurried up the stairs and shut her door with a soft click.
Begging herself not to cry, she slipped off her clothes and slipped into a cozy pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She should take a shower, but she didn’t want to wake her sisters by turning it on. So, instead, she trudged across the hall, into the bathroom, and wiped herself off with a wet cloth.
All she had wanted was one thing: to go to a nice dinner with her boyfriend. Instead, she was left alone for the night in a place that she hated, expected to cheer Tomas on in a sport, in an environment, she couldn’t care less for.
And Tomas didn’t even seem to care or notice. At least now she would get a weekend alone, a weekend spent in the kitchen, a weekend creating dishes that people would praise her for. And it wasn’t that Nesta needed the praise, but when her world revolved around Tomas’s accomplishments, it was nice to be the one appreciated for once.
When her phone finally booted up, she didn’t have a single text from Tomas.
—————
Friday went by pretty uneventfully. She was exhausted, yes, but she was mostly distracted by the fact that Tomas hadn’t responded to her text message that morning.
She had bumped into someone in the halls, between economics and chemistry, and after she’d apologized, he’d stopped her and asked if she was alright. His hazel eyes were bright and his voice was kind. She’d given him a quick nod and gone on her way.
After school, she went straight to the store, gathering ingredients for delicious baked goods and savory recipes she’d been dying to try. Just as she was getting into a good mood, excited to bake for hours on end, she got home, and that mood went straight to hell.
“We’re going to surprise Tomas.”
She had just set her bags down on the kitchen counter when she froze, her father’s words making her smile fade into nothingness. “What?”
“I’ll drive you down, go pack,” he said, waiting for her to be grateful. “Tomas wanted you to go so badly, and I know you want to be there to support him. So, I worked it out, bought tickets, booked a room….Come on, Nesta, take a little roadtrip with your dear old dad to support your boyfriend.”
Nesta frowned. “I- I can’t. I just bought all of this to make for the guests-.”
“I called your aunt to come stay with your sisters and take care of the guests,” Isaac replied, beaming. “Come on, Nesta. This could be life changing for him, which means it could be life changing for you. You want to be there, don’t you?”
No, she thought, she absolutely did not want to be there.
She was fairly sure, if Tomas lack of communication was any indication, that he didn’t want her there either.
“I can’t, dad,” she said, grasping for any chance to get out of this. “I’ve got a final paper due on Monday and I haven’t even started it.”
“You can work on it in the truck,” he replied, packing a cooler with the essentials - beer, of course - and patting the top of it when he flipped the lid closed. “Now, go pack. If we want to see the numbers ceremony, we have to leave before four.” He hefted the cooler up, and was out the backdoor, going to load it in the back of the truck.
Nesta sighed, knowing that her father was just as hard headed as she was. She wasn’t going to win this battle.
She dialed Tomas number one more time, seeing the other three times she’d tried to call him, unsuccessfully, and listened to it ring. When the voicemail started, she said, “Hey, it’s me. We need to talk about last night and I- I need to talk to you. Can you call me, please? I love you.”
------------------------------
It was a four hour drive to Guthrie, Oklahoma. Four hours to sit on her phone and scroll through her timeline. Four hours for her dad to listen to shitty music and act like this was a fun, little trip they were taking. Four hours to flip through recipe boards and save things she wanted to try next. Four hours to call Tomas with no answer on the other line.
Nesta couldn’t even lie to herself and pretend something had happened, couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t getting her texts or calls. He was still posting on Facebook, still sharing pictures he found funny, still going about like nothing was wrong.
And then, with a little less than an hour left in their silent drive, they blew a tire.
For the first time since they began their journey, Isaac’s smile faltered. They pulled onto the side of the road and Isaac turned off the engine. Nesta still had her bare feet up on the dash, still was scrolling through her phone when Isaac got out of the truck.
He was muttering something under his breath but Nesta didn’t pay him any mind. She was too bitter that she was there to begin with.
Maybe they wouldn’t have a spare and they’d be stuck there for the entirety of the weekend. With any luck, they would have to call Elain to come and get them and take Nesta back home.
That hope faded when Isaac pulled a tire out of the back.
The tire was changed, the flat caused by a deep gash from a nail they hit along the road at some point, and they were back on their way. It cost them nearly two hours, though, and by the time they pulled into the skeezy motel her father had booked a room in, the first night of the rodeo was all but done.
Isaac kept apologizing, saying they’d get to the arena early the next morning, that was she could find Tomas before everything began. Nesta wasn’t stupid though, she knew her dad’s old roping buddies were all here, all with their sons or daughters, if there were here for breakaway or to run barrels. She was sure he was excited to tell them that the up and coming Tomas Mandray was his soon-to-be son-in-law. Or so he thought.
The last thing she heard him say before he fall asleep was, “Man, I can’t wait to see his face.”
Yeah, she thought. Me either.
She didn’t sleep at all that night and when morning came she was completely exhausted. On top of that looming exhaustion, she felt nauseated at the thought of Tomas seeing her. She had called him once more before she’d “gone to sleep” the night before but got his voicemail, once again.
As Nesta hopped into the truck with Isaac, she thought she was going to puke all over the floorboards. Her father was so excited at being back at the rodeo that he didn’t even notice his firstborn's silence or discomfort.
Nesta hated him for that, hated him for not noticing, for not listening.
She hated him for forcing her to be here, for forcing her into this life, just like he had her mother.
Tomas was just like her father.
And her? She was just like her mother.
Two people who were attracted to one another but shouldn’t have a future together, because that future would be shit, no matter how hard they tried.
By the time Isaac parked their truck, Nesta was paralyzed. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could hardly breathe.
Perhaps she should be the bigger person. She should go and find him, apologize, and tell him good luck. But even though that’s what she should do, the thought had her hands shaking at her sides.
You can do this, don’t be an idiot, she told herself. She should consider herself lucky. At seventeen, she had found someone who loved her.
At least, he told her he did.
Until he got pissed and stopped answering her calls.
“Coming, Nesta?” Isaac asked, grin wide, tapping on her window. He was ready to go dwell in his safe haven. Nesta had to follow him. She was his excuse to be there, after all.
She nodded, and took a deep breath before opening the passenger side door and hauling herself out.
Nesta and her father gave their tickets to the man at the door and walked in. Isaac stopped and stood there, breathing it all in.
All Nesta could smell was horse shit.
“Isaac Archeron, you son of a bitch, what are you doing here?”
With that one sentence, her father was whisked away, into conversations with his old rodeo friends, seeing people he hadn’t seen since before Nesta was ever even thought of. And she was on her own.
Nesta sat down in the stands. She fiddled with her phone, not wanting to scroll through Instagram for the fiftieth time that day, but having nothing better to do.
Until her phone rang.
His name flashed up on her screen. She’d been trying to get in touch with him for three days, yet now that he was calling her back, she couldn’t make her hands work, couldn’t remember how to swipe her finger across the call to answer the phone.
She answered, but her voice was hesitant as she said, “Hello?”
“Nes? Hey, sorry, my phone hasn’t been working.”
Bullshit bullshit bullshit.
“It’s okay,” she lied. She stood, walking down the bleachers and looked towards the entrance. Her father was still where she’d left him, telling war stories and talking about the good ole days. She could see the stables behind a tarp with the rodeo association's name on it. She asked, “Are you warming Rain up?”
“Nah, he’s good to go. I got a ride in this morning. Just getting him brushed down.”
He hasn’t said a single word about her leaving the other night. Had he not noticed? Was she that insignificant that he hadn't even realized she was gone?
“Well that’s good.” She sighed. “Can we talk for a-?”
He cut her off. “Hey, babe, I gotta get going. Wish me luck?”
“Oh, I- Okay. Good luck,” she said. “I love you.”
“Yeah, you, too,” he said, already pulling the phone from his face. “Bye.”
Nesta stood still as the line went dead. With a deep sigh, she shoved her phone into her pocket. He must be getting ready to make his debut for the day, maybe she would be able to catch him, surprise him, before he went.
He wanted her to wish him luck.
Maybe she would, if only she could catch him in time.
She wandered around the bleachers, dodging people who looked like they lived and breathed watching underage rodeo championships.
She had never seen so much hype. The rodeo was somewhere she hoped to dodge as often as possible even though, obviously, she wasn’t always blessed enough to do so.
Either way, she continued on her journey to finding Tomas, but she came up short.
Looking down at her tennis shoes, which were covered in dust and dirt, she scolded herself for not packing different shoes. Not only were her sneakers filthy but her feet hurt like shit from all the walking.
Another name was called to get on deck, but she didn’t hear Tomas’, so she went on her way. Maybe he was off somewhere trying to clear his head.
With that thought, she went around to the back of the bleachers, where trucks and trailers were lined up. She passed people laughing and celebrating in deep conversation, but they all ignored her, thankfully.
She turned the corner at the end of the row, though, and froze.
She had found Tomas, but he wasn’t getting ready.
At least, he wasn’t getting ready alone.
His lips were stuck to a girl’s neck, whose head was thrown back, her eyes closed. He was palming her breast beneath her tied up flannel shirt.
Nesta tried to say something, but she had once again been paralyzed, frozen in place.
“‘Scuse me, ma’am.” An older man leading a horse stepped around her, and the horse whinnied as it passed.
The sound got Tomas’ attention.
His eyes went wide as he saw her standing there, in the doorway to the stables. He blinked a few times, and the girl didn’t realize their fun was over. Her hands roved over his body and she kissed his neck. Nesta began to shake her head and walk away.
“Ne- Nesta, wait!”
She turned and it took everything in her not to break into a run. She wanted to leave. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream.
She wanted to cry.
Her entire future, that stupid future she was dreading so much, but the only plan she’d ever had… it was gone.
“Baby!” His voice was much closer than it had been and his hand closed around her wrist. “Baby! Baby, baby, baby. Hey, it’s not what it looks like.”
Her voice was small, but she said, “Get your hands off of me.”
He didn’t. Instead he gripped her shoulders and said, “Whatever you thought you just saw, I promise you’re wrong.”
“It’s a little hard to misinterpret that,” Nesta snapped, snatching her wrist free. “You ignored my calls. Made me feel like shit for the other night. And while I was feeling like shit...you were getting….” Nesta’s words trailed off, and she laughed, loudly, humorlessly. “Fuck off, Tom.”
“Hey,” he begged, brushing her hair back, the hair that had come undone from her ponytail. “Don’t do this.”
Nesta hated herself for crying in front of him, for shaking her head, for taking a step back. “It’s over. I never want to see you….never want to see you again.”
Her voice broke, and that only made the pitiful scene worse.
Nesta Archeron walked away from Tomas Mandray, and she never wanted to look back.
#the ranch nessian#shara collab#tacmc x throne of ashes and beauty#toab tacmc collab#tacmc toab tag team#nessian#nesta archeron#cassian
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TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 3: The Aftermath (Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here)
It took 10 minutes and lots of questioning and cajoling to get Jenny to calm down enough to listen to anything Abbie said. She maintained an air of defensiveness, shoulders squared, muscles rigid, face a drawn mask of doubt. Even now, sitting across the table from Abbie while he sat between them at the head of the table, he saw the tension in her, unsure and unwilling to believe, even as her defenses began to crumble.
"Tell me again," she demanded.
Abbie sighed patiently in resolution and explained everything in detail: how she'd emerged from the lake, the knowledge she suddenly had that felt like a light coming on in her brain, missing three and half days and the significance of that, the questioning Ichabod had done. He noted she conveniently forgot to tell Miss Jenny of their...ardor, for which he was most grateful. Somehow he knew she'd be excited and tease them incessantly, if not this night then starting with their next encounter. As it stood now, he felt like the flayed end of a raw nerve and didn't think he could handle much more of anything, let alone good-natured ribbing of something so momentous and incredible.
Once he noted that Miss Jenny had calmed—indeed, even showed relief and elation—he silently excused himself, pussyfooting to the kitchen to make some tea and heat up some of the lemon loaf that Abbie favored.
At the sight of it, his stomach grumbled, and he realized he couldn't remember the last meal he'd had. With the hum of the Mills sisters' voices as background accompaniment, he set about making himself a PB&J.
His eyes burned like fire with every blink, but he couldn't possibly head to bed right now, not even sure sleep would find him, no matter how desperately he needed it, for fear Abbie would disappear while he slumbered. She had to be here to stay, didn't she? He couldn't consider otherwise. Besides, she'd returned with a deeper understanding of their mission. They were destined to this life, called to something greater.
He nearly chortled out loud at the absurdity of his own thoughts—he sounded nigh like one of those blasted Hallmark movies Abbie indulged in during certain times of the month. Destiny, fate, meant to be... Perhaps he was delusional.
But the Bible foretold of them as an unbroken pair, and Abbie had confirmed their entwined fates upon her return.
And her return had certainly entwined them more than they'd ever been before. A flush rushed through him at the memory of kissing her, touching her, of her in his lap, closer than he'd ever thought possible. She'd floated in like a dream and started to fulfill his in brilliant Technicolor.
The kettle began whistling, and he shook off his wayward musings for a moment to remove the pot from the burner. He poured for the sisters, and while the tea steeped he ate his sandwich, nearly inhaling it to quell the growling monster in his belly.
He heard sniffling from the other room, the sound drawing him back to the tunnels after Pandora's wretched box had exploded, blowing his last hope of finding Abbie to Hades. The dreams—or had they been visions? He'd have to ask the Lieutenant if she remembered coming to him telepathically, spiritually, or by some other supernatural medium—haunted his waking hours, and if he'd slept the past few days he knew he'd find them there too. Her seemingly contented goodbye, acceptance of him moving on without her, the way that, even in that netherworld, they danced so smoothly around the way they truly felt.
He hoped...Heavens, how he'd hoped she'd felt the depth of passion for him that she inspired in him. At times he could barely refrain from spelling it out, touching her simply to feel the softness of her skin, holding her close because she was there.
Now he knew a touch of her fervor and he longed to burn in it, wholly consumed and happily so. Let it consume him the way his grief had, a pleasant and pleasurable replacement that'd taken her dying to bring about. What a fool he'd acted, skirting the issue this past year. After everything that'd happened to him, all the things he'd lost, he should've known better.
Tears pricked his eyes. The places she'd gone to for him, for them, for the world...Purgatory, the catacombs, death. He had so much to make up for. Lost time, chances, moments, and words. He'd only begun to speak the avalanche of emotions held in his heart.
The timer beeped loudly, signaling the tea had finished steeping, and he moved before he fell asleep on his feet right there in the kitchen. Extracting the tea strainers, he set the mugs and cake slices on a serving tray and put the sandwich fixings away. Every move felt like swimming through molasses, but he forged ahead, delivering the tray to the dining room.
The Mills sisters stood in a tearful embrace, neither facing his direction, and he quietly slid the tray onto the table and made a silent escape.
Hell's bells, but he needed rest. He didn't know how long the sisters would spend reuniting and discussing what's transpired the past few days, and he didn't want to interrupt, so he slipped down the hallway and into the bathroom. He took a quick, hot shower, scrubbing the strain of desperate wallowing from himself and washing his floppy hair into some semblance of normal. Drying off, he slipped on his robe and brushed his teeth, freshening his body the way he'd started to clean his spirit by speaking what he'd so long cherished in his heart.
He took a long look in the mirror, barely recognizing the gaunt face staring back at him. Dark circles framed his tired eyes, his cheeks seemed to have sunk into his face, and his beard looked slightly untamed. He fixed the latter with haste, knowing the rest would improve with sleep and proper hydration and nutrition, which he'd sorely lacked as of late.
He shuffled to his room and stopped short. A whirlwind had blown through it: clothes and books lay scattered and strewn about, the desk chair lay on its side, and the covers of his bed had been thrown off. Confusion briefly set in until a quick flash of a memory surfaced. In a grief-blind rage, he'd swept his arm across the bookshelves, sending his favorite tomes flying. Grabbing at the clothes hanging in his open closet seemed the next destructive step, and he'd made quick work of it. Throwing the bedspread, shoving at the chair, kicking at the items already littering the floor gave him minute catharsis. Then he'd crashed down, both emotionally and physically, sliding onto the floor in a devastated mess.
Ichabod took a deep breath and, after exchanging the robe for a dark grey t-shirt and black yoga pants (he'd never trade in his now-antiquated attire, but he found the current leisure styles most comforting while at home), began tidying the room, switching the overhead light for the bedside lamp. The room took slightly longer to clean up than it had to deconstruct it, but he set about it quickly, ashamed of his childish outburst but feeling it necessary all the same.
He'd believed the prophecies: the Bible, the tablet, the enemies' words that they were the Two Witnesses. He hadn't understood how he could've set his whole modern life, indeed, his heart, on that belief, only to have it crumble in the space of a heartbeat with the loss of his partner. His Lieutenant. (He hadn't the right to think of her as such, but it hadn't prevented him from doing so.)
He righted the desk chair and picked up some of the remaining scattered books, still marveling that she'd walked back into their home, whole, healed, and heralding promises of their future together. The Two of them promised to Witness until the end.
He had to be dreaming.
Something quietly sounded behind him, and he turned to see the subject of his thoughts and affections leaning against the door frame, watching him. She'd changed into a pair of pink and black plaid pajama pants and a matching light pink shirt. It, coupled with the low lighting of his room, cast her face in a bewitchingly warm glow.
He watched her eyes scan the room, some of the books still lying strewn about, then flash back to him. Sorrow etched her face.
"It's been a hard few days," he murmured unnecessarily as an explanation before turning from her to stack the books in his hands onto the desk.
He set them down, one hand resting on the top cover as he took a moment to gather himself. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to ravish her. He wanted to simply stare at her until he'd had his fill of all her beauty. He needed to speak of the days without her, to purge the ache that only she—living, breathing—could ease.
She moved into his peripheral and, slightly startled, he turned to her. She held out the last of the books that'd littered his floor, and he took them from her, his eyes never leaving her face, her gaze intently holding his.
Even after his earlier revelation, there were still so many things to say...where could he start?
He cleared his throat, his brain finally catching on to the fact that he hadn't heard the other Mills sister in the past several minutes.
"Miss Jenny?" he nearly croaked, his voice quiet.
"She went home. Said she needed rest and a little bit of time," she explained softly. "And that she'll stop by tomorrow."
He nodded in understanding, feeling the same oppressive, cloying need for space to process her return in conjunction with the desire to never let her out of his sight.
It all felt so overwhelming.
Suddenly he moved away from her gaze, her proximity, and rounded the bed, sitting on its edge before he collapsed under the dueling weights of grief and elation. He didn't want to send her away and couldn't ask her to remain here, but strewth, he was wrung dry. He could hardly keep his eyes open, his head up.
Gratitude filled him as Abbie remained where he'd left her for several moments, giving him time, space. Neither felt as good as she had in his arms, but he needed them just as badly.
"In either of my lives, I've never felt as scarred as I have following your disappearance into that box."
The words, spoken softly on a broken whisper, surprised even him since he hadn't planned on speaking them—hadn’t even known his brain was forming them—and the gravity of his admission sat heavy in the room. His entire 18th century existence, the loss of his parents, his best friend, his wife and son, his homeland. He'd felt those things as surely now as he ever did. But Abbie...losing her had felt different. Weightier. Like a millstone around his neck drowning him even as he still breathed. Mayhap because of their bond as witnesses. Or because she'd somehow become the glue that'd held his two worlds together, the only person who'd believed him, helped him, trusted him. Made him feel real.
He stared straight ahead, the closet before him yawning open like the space between them. Perhaps he'd said too much. His heart beat wildly waiting for her response.
It didn't take long.
He heard her bare feet padding in his direction, and she appeared before him, petite, radiant, and stunning.
He couldn't meet her eyes, afraid of what he'd see in them, but her hands sluiced through the hair at his temples, the heels of her hands resting on them as she leaned closer. He felt her lips press sweetly against his forehead, and his eyes dropped closed at the sensation.
On sensory overload, he felt barely able to function, yet somehow his hands found her hips, resting lightly on the flare of them as if he'd done this a thousand times before. He felt the bones beneath her toned skin, the slimness of her figure, and his heart nearly exploded with the feelings he had for her.
But Abbie chose that moment to retreat, though just enough to see him, her hands still deliciously tangled in his hair as her fingers absently massaged his scalp. He was going to crawl out of his skin if she didn't stop torturing him. Her touch both invigorated and drugged him, powerful in its simplicity, soothing in its method.
She moved her hands down to his cheeks, and her thumbs arched along his eyebrows. He fluttered his tired eyes open to stare at her, finding her watching him with a sympathetic, loving gaze. Her thumbs brushed against his cheekbones, her touch sending warmth coursing through his body. The realization that she felt comfortable enough to freely caress him made him shiver all over.
"You should rest now," she soothed. "We can talk more in the morning."
He could imagine how wretched he looked right now, how she must see him. Gaunt and pale, red-rimmed eyes and dark hues beneath them. A sight bedraggled enough to make her eyes sore.
Bringing his hand up to grip her wrist, he turned his head slightly to the right, kissing her palm reverently. She ran the fingers of her other hand through his hair again as he did so.
God's wounds, he'd better not be dreaming all of this up. He wasn't sure how much more heartache he could survive.
He didn't want to let her go, but his bed called to him like a siren. Reluctantly releasing her, he stood up and turned down the bedspread and sheets, then plopped listlessly down again. He eased down onto his side as Abbie stood by smiling sweetly at him. She watched him so attentively he thought she might just stay until he'd fallen asleep. Which wouldn't take all that long, to be sure.
But then she softly bid him a goodnight as she turned to leave.
"Please," he breathed in desperation, again speaking without forethought. "Stay with me." A few seconds later, he realized his words sounded like a paltry invitation. "I don't mean anything untowards," he rushed to assure her. "Just...please don't go. Don't leave."
He swallowed hard, waiting for her response. Surely she wouldn't think him a scoundrel for requesting such a thing after she'd just returned from the beyond. Would she?
Through his bleary eyes he saw her lips upturn in a small smile. She tucked one leg beneath her and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised him.
Ichabod's heart pounded wildly in his chest as he scooted to the other side of the bed. Abbie slid into bed—the sight left him again wondering if he might be hallucinating—reaching up to turn off the bedside lamp.
The room plunged into darkness, but he felt her every movement: fluffing the pillow, pulling the blankets up, settling comfortably into the mattress. He, conversely, didn't move, could barely breathe. And when he did, the scent of Abbie's shampoo filled his senses. She lay so close he could he could reach out and touch her, wrap his arm around her, hold her close to him, to feel her breathing. To prove to himself she was real and living and here and...dear heavens, he didn't dare do such a thing. It was enough she'd agreed to stay with him this night.
He'd thought he'd fall to sleep the moment his head hit the pillow, but he hadn't anticipated sleeping next to Abbie. Was he too close? Had he given her enough space? Should he move to the edge of his side of the bed? Was she comfortable? Maybe he'd compromised the covers, not leaving enough for her to stay warm with.
"You're thinking too much, Crane," she murmured.
Something about her tone, that reprimanding but teasing duo she had, made him huff a relieved sigh, and most of his tension evaporated.
A moment later, she reached her hand back and grabbed his, pulling it over her side and draping his arm around her waist. Instinctively he moved forward as she settled back against him, and he noted how easily they fell into this most intimate of reposes.
She felt real enough, had matched him in fervor and passion. She'd returned with all the grace and grit and poise of the woman who'd fearlessly and faithfully fought by his side since the moment he'd met her. And now he held her in his arms. His Lieutenant...
He needn't have wondered if he'd ever get to sleep with Abbie in his bed; before he could even marvel at how wonderful she felt tucked against him, he'd fallen asleep.
#ichabbie#ichabbie fanfiction#ichabbie fanfic#ichabbie fan fiction#ichabbie fan fic#abbie x crane#abbie x ichabod#ichabod x abbie#crane x abbie#sleepy hollow#shady hollow#sh#sleepy hollow fanfiction#sleepy hollow fanfic#sleepy hollow fan fiction#sleepy hollow fan fic#ichabbie fix#ichabbie fix it#my ichabbie writing#my writing#personal
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It’s The Little Things We Remember (collab)
We’ll Do It All Over Again - A Modern/Reincarnation AU with @trueblueoceaneyes
Welcome to the second part, or the “head” of the We’ll Do It All Over Again (Modern!AU) Collab! This Modern!AU collaboration is divided into two parts, @trueblueoceaneyes’ “It Took A While, But We’re Home Now” and mine “It’s The Little Things We Remember”. It’s about you and Giyuu meeting in a new life where the Corps and the Demons still exist, armed with the memories and experiences of a past life. Although both of them are set in modern times, and technically within the same timeframe, they are not direct sequels or immediate continuations, so it can be read alone. (Although, we would appreciate it if you read the other’s part UwU)
NAVIGATION:
PART 1: It Took A While, But We’re Home Now by @trueblueoceaneyes
Novelist Giyuu Tomioka passes off his past life as a fantasy series but shit goes down when the main heroine of his book shows up in front of him.
PART 2: It’s The Little Things We Remember by @krabstick32 (You are here!)
You’re tasked to go on a mission with the Water Pillar. He was a bit of a jerk, but despite meeting him for the first time, you already knew that - among a couple of other things.
header was made by trueblueoceaneyes and image used was by @/sinba_ on twitter
Pairing: Hashira!Giyuu x Hashira!Reader (mentioned Mitsuri x Obanai)
Synopsis: You’re tasked to go on a mission with the Water Pillar. He was a bit of a jerk, but despite meeting him for the first time, you already knew that - among a couple of other things.
Tags/warnings: There is some light angst, swearing, a semi-graphic depiction of a fight scene, and a bit of blood. If you’re not comfortable with that please do read something else uwu
Word count: 14.1k~
A/N: I honestly can’t believe I was able to work with the one and only @trueblueoceaneyes. Like literally, all of this was possible by their wonderful and amazing self, and would not exist without them (i still can’t believe how we literally wrote a grand estimate of 23k words) UwU working with her was so fun, and her writing is beautiful and i am willing to sing her praises day and night, so go check them out!! <33 BECAUSE BOTTOMLINE IS: SHE’S GREAT.
To be completely honest, both of us were freaking out with how long this is, and were crying over how we would cut it, until we said fuck it, let it be 14k words long. We thought that theirs was long, but we thought wrong lmao. Anyway, we hope you like our labor of love, and enjoy it as much as we did writing it. Please Enjoy~
NAVIGATION:
PART 1: It Took A While, But We’re Home Now by @trueblueoceaneyes
PART 2: It’s The Little Things We Remember by @krabstick32 (You are here!)
Thursday 9:37 PM
From: Headquarters
9:37 PM
Head to Ubuyashiki Tower—Oyakata-sama’s office at 10:00 PM. Meeting Assignment.
Taking note of the short message, you shut your phone and tucked it into a shirt pocket before heaving a sigh and standing up from where you were perched at the edge of a building.
Ensuring that both your Nichirin blade and Nichirin gun was tucked well onto your person, you turned around and leaned your body back, letting yourself fall as you grabbed a stray railing to hoist yourself back up.
Despite the late hour, the city was loud as you jumped from building to building. From the height you were on, it was relatively easy to hear the sound of cars and sirens, and the faint thumping of music from the bars that dotted the streets. You made sure to keep yourself hidden in the shadows and on top of the rooftops to avoid detection as you were rushing to get to the Ubuyashiki Tower in the few minutes you were notified to arrive. Thankfully, the building wasn’t far from your previous assignment, so you were able to arrive in record time, landing at the top with little difficulty as you walked towards the lone structure settled in the middle for those like you, and entered the elevator inside to go down a few floors.
Exiting the metal contraption, you were greeted by a welcoming lobby with an adjacent garden open to the crisp night air, filled with wisterias and designed with a respectably sized koi pond. Nodding to the young girl at the receptionist table, you continued walking to a brightly lit hallway cushioned with lush carpets, and wall-mounted lamps.
As you walked, you composed yourself for a moment and brushed off your skirt, using your fingers to lightly comb over your wind tousled hair. When you finally reached the large door at the end of the hallway, you took a deep breath before knocking three times and entering.
Upon your entrance, you quickly noted Oyakata-sama sitting on his desk chair and Giyuu Tomioka, a fellow Pillar, standing tall in front of the master. As per protocol and to show respect to the leader of all demon slayers, you quietly bowed and greeted the master as soon as you were in front of his desk.
“Good Evening Oyakata-sama. I apologize for being late, I got caught in a mission.”
“Raise your head.” You obeyed, and saw him smiling calmly at you, easing your nerves. “It’s alright my child, you aren’t late. In fact, you arrived at just the right time. Giyuu himself just got here.”
“Thank you Oyakata-sama.”
The master gave a small nod and gestured to the chairs the two of you were in front of. “Well, now that (F/N) is here, I have something to discuss with the both of you. Please, take a seat.”
You tossed a quick glance at the man beside you and mirrored his actions as the two of you took a seat. Upon your and his movement, Oyakata-sama clicked a button, and the room instantly dimmed as a projector dropped down behind him.
“As the both of you know, we’ve been getting reports about disappearances focused around Natagumo Prefecture.” The screen showed a sizable map with a specific area highlighted in red. “Specifically the town at the base of the mountain. It seems to be acting as the base of operations of the demon.”
He clicked at a small remote and the screen showed fifteen humans aged around ten to sixteen years old. “It’s been a month and over fifteen missing cases have been reported to the police.” The slide changed and showed seven people wearing demon slayer uniforms. “Seven of our own haven’t returned after that mission.”
Immediately your stomach twisted into painful knots upon hearing the deaths of so many innocent lives - you felt sick unto your very core. No matter how long you’ve been a demon slayer, it never gets any easier hearing a death count.
“Could it be an upper moon?” The Water Pillar asked after a moment of silence.
“I’m afraid it’s possible. I hate sending any of you into the battlefield, but I need the two of you to handle this as quickly as possible, to avoid more lives from being taken.” Oyakata-sama replied somberly. “Take the necessary supplies. You can leave at dawn.”
The two of you stood and bowed in respect to Oyakata-sama.
“We’ll update you on any major news.” Giyuu spoke, and you added “Yes, We’ll take our leave now.”
The two of you left and walked back out into the hallway, and through the reception area. The girl from before was nowhere to be seen, so once the elevator doors opened, the two of you rode in silence down to the swordsmiths' floor. A mission such as this would require the two of you to have your weapons checked and to grab any necessary items.
On the way down, you decided to engage in a conversation with Giyuu. Despite being a Pillar for a few months now, this would be the first time you were paired with the raven-haired man, or spoke to him for that matter. You wanted this mission to go as smoothly as possible.
Taking a deep breath, you started, “So, Tomioka-san, this would be the first time we're on a mission together, yeah?” You broke the silence and gave him a smile, only for the silence to stretch on uncomfortably after your words left your mouth. Thinking that maybe he didn’t hear you, you were going to repeat it until the doors opened and he spared you a quick glance.
“Uh, Tomioka-san?”
“Stay focused. This is an important mission.” He spoke, in a strong yet quiet voice, and exited with a brisk pace until he disappeared behind a corner, leaving you standing alone in the elevator to gape at his response.
You were dumbfounded. “He did not just…” you asked yourself, because how rude was it to ignore your coworker and leave them hanging? Those were the first words you spoke to him - apart from the compulsory introduction of you being the new Thunder Pillar - and yet you were promptly snubbed. Even Obanai replied to you when you spoke to him.
In your stunned silence, the doors started to close until you reached out a hand, and exited as well. Briefly, you heard a small shhk that signaled it closing, but didn’t care as you were absorbed in your thoughts, carefully picking apart the situation.
There was nothing wrong with what you said. You were only trying to engage in a conversation - trying to get along for the benefit of your mission, because nothing was worse than a tense atmosphere between a team. But then he goes and slaps your metaphorical face by insinuating that this was all a big game to you, that you’re not taking any of this seriously? You were a Pillar; as if talking to a handsome man would distract you from doing your job and exacting vengeance for those poor souls killed in cold blood.
Letting out a dignified huff, you continued walking, and resisted the urge to stomp your foot down at the Water Pillar’s unfriendliness.
In the back of your mind however, you were barely surprised. He was always like this—always putting up a front in the presence of others, always acting cold as ice, always pretending like he didn’t care even though he did care, he cared so much, all because he felt that he didn’t deserve to be happy after—
“Don’t come closer.”
You were losing breath as you tried to catch up with the raven haired male after a Pillar meeting. How was he even walking so quickly? Not to mention it didn’t look to be as taxing to him as it was for you. He was practically strolling when you were full on sprinting. He was a Pillar, sure, but so were you!
“Hey! Don’t ignore me,” you gasped as you stumbled over the uneven path, but you quickly regained composure. Giyuu doesn’t even pause for a second. “I just wanted to-”
“No thank you. Please leave me alone,” he gruffly replied. How come he didn’t seem the least bit tired? You heard he trained at a mountain, fine, but how the hell was he this fast in such a thick forest? You still couldn’t go around that quick without tripping over some root or getting hit in the face by a random branch!
Making up your mind, you go as fast as you can and tackle him. It doesn’t look like he ever expected you to do that, because he loses balance and you both go crashing into the forest floor.
Whatever you were on top of shifts and you’re forced to move. You groan as you get up, only for the breath to hitch in your throat as you find yourself staring into blue eyes.
Gods above, he looked absolutely divine.
“Why?” he grumbled as he softly pushed you off of him and sat up. “What were you trying to accomplish by doing that?”
“It’s not my fault you were walking so quickly! Who does that when you’re talking to someone?” you huffed, your cheeks feeling incredibly warm at how close you both were. He probably caught how you had gawked at him.
“Fine. What do you want?” he groaned, frowning at you. He doesn’t miss how red your face had gotten and how you couldn’t seem to look him in the eye. “Why do you keep following me?”
“We’re going to be friends.”
“...What…?” Giyuu stares as you smile brightly at him. You were practically sparkling. “You’re joking, right?”
“Of course not, you idiot. Do I look like I’m joking?” you huffed again, before getting up and dusting your kimono and uniform free of dried leaves. “We’re going to be friends even if it’s the last thing I do.”
Giyuu is completely dumbfounded, until you reach down and pull at his hands to get him up on his feet. He takes a mental note of how your hands looked so fragile and soft compared to his own, but you had pulled him to his feet with strength that did not match your smaller body frame.
“Why… are you doing this?” he whispered. He couldn’t understand.
“Well, I don’t like seeing people alone. Especially when they don’t look like they want to be,” you grin at him as you both find your way back to the village. Giyuu is quiet, both by your words and because you haven’t let go of his hand. “First off, let’s have lunch! My treat, of course.”
When you blink, you feel like you just took a sudden breath of air and the room comes back to view. What just happened? What the hell was your subconscious on about? Where did those thoughts even come from?
You barely knew the man. You didn’t know where he came from or what his circumstances were. You tell yourself to get your facts straight and effectively push back whatever that was, only leaving the memory of the conversation you just had - or the lack of a proper one, to be exact.That small thought quickly dampened the fire of your irritation, because admittedly, you believed that first impressions aren't everything - to always take them with a grain of salt. Despite how plain rude he was, you had no right nor the sufficient amount of experiences to be able to understand his character and pass judgement.
Slowly, you took a deep breath, and exhaled.
Maybe he just had a rough day, or maybe he was just shy and socially inept, a farfetched and random thought may it be. Perhaps that was just how he really was. Regardless of his personality though, you can’t deny the fact that he must be an exceptional demon slayer to be granted the rank of a Pillar, and because of that, you’d try your best to at least be respectful to him, even if he didn’t return the same courtesy.
Shaking your head, you resumed walking, and turned the same corner he did to reach the weapons room.
You wouldn’t say it out loud, but you were willing to admit to yourself that he was amazing.
The way he moved and handled the sword was absolutely unparalleled, you noted as you watched from the side. His actions were like water - the way he dodged was perfectly calculated, his slashes fluid, and precise. It was like no movement was wasted because everything was precise and deliberate. It almost seemed like he read the battle in the blink of an eye before executing an attack.
You couldn’t help but feel awed as you watched his fight. He truly was something else.
“Hey, am I really that pathetic to you? How annoying are you to turn your back on an opponent to ogle your comrade?”
From your periphery, you felt the air vibrate, and without batting an eye, you unsheathed your blade and cut off the approaching appendage with little effort. “I was enjoying the show y’know. It’s not everyday I get to see him fight,” you sighed as you turned, and slashed at air to get rid of the blood on your sword. “But you’ve ruined my fun. Might as well get this over with. So, what’s your name?”
“Are you stupid? You don’t even know me, the great upper moon six?”
“Frankly, no. Not really.” This wasn’t upper moon 6. It was strong yes, but no matter how many humans a demon ate, this was nowhere near the strength of an upper moon. Although with it’s impressive blood demon art of replicating multiple limbs, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a lower moon.
It seemed to pause, before screeching out a loud “How annoying!” as a dozen arms lunged for you.
You quickly jumped out of harm’s way and up a decently sized branch. “That’s a pretty cool blood demon art you got there. Imagin—!” You leaped off the tree before a large snap cut you off as the demon broke the branch you were previously on. “Hey! I was talking!”
“Annoying! You’re so annoying! Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
“Ugh, is that all you really have to say?”
Crouching on the branch, you pushed your feet, and catapulted yourself into the sky. You shut out the world as you breathed deeply, focusing and positioning your body into one of your breath forms.
“Thunder breathing, First form: Thunderclap and flash.” And in a flurry of movement, you landed deftly on your feet before hearing a loud thump sound from behind you.
“Well.” Dusting off your skirt, you stood and faced the demon. “That should do it.”
“How annoying!”
Immediately, you turned around and was surprised to find the demon floating 15 feet off the ground.
“Not so pathetic now, am I? A Pillar like you can’t even kill me!” It taunted, before raising his hands and the ground beneath you crumbled.
It all felt so real. You felt the ground shake and how the earth seemed brittle - only instinct made you twist out of the way as the forest floor seemed to cave under you. A tiny mistake on your part caused you to land quarter of a meter short from what was supposed to be the edge, but once you felt a completely intact forest floor, you immediately knew that multiplying elastic body parts was not its Blood Demon Art.
You need to talk to Tomioka. This could get ugly fast without knowing which was real and which was an illusion. Your eyes immediately found him fighting, but widened in horror as you watched the demon he was fighting pushed at his shoulders and slammed his head against the ground. You felt your heart freeze as you screamed his name, not even noticing that you used his first.
“Giyuu!”
In your haste to reach Tomioka, Giyuu’s vision suddenly slowed as he watched one of the demon’s limb aim for you.
You were distracted from seeing him hit his head, and in a moment of weakness you didn’t notice the demon preparing for the kill.
It was too familiar; it felt like he’s seen this before, like he lived through this. His vision overlapped with a visage, of you wrapped in a painstakingly familiar haori, your skin pale and painted with red, his hands wet and drenched in your blood…
“Giyuu, stop, please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. It hurt having to be moved around so much. You felt really tired, despite being carried.
Red. Red. So much red.
“No, no. Just shut up, please,” Giyuu could feel his lungs constricting. He was so panicked he had forgotten how to use his breathing technique. He felt like his whole chest was on fire, legs only moving due to adrenaline. “Please. We’re close to Shinobu, just-”
“Giyuu…? You’re still there, right?” your voice was so small, so unlike how he usually heard it laughing or calling for him. “Why…? Can’t I see you…?”
It was like something in him snapped.
No, I'm not letting you die again!
“WATCH OUT!” Giyuu screamed as he moved so fast that only your fellow pillars would be able to see how he grabbed his gun from its holster and aimed at the hand reaching for you.
Upon hearing his warning, you immediately flipped back, using the forest floor as a springboard to push yourself out of the way. When you landed, a solid arm got a hold of your waist and you felt yourself being pulled to a strong body, as the air brushed past the two of you.
Quickly, he pulled the two of you behind the cover of a massive tree, Giyuu only letting go of you when he took a quick glance at where the demon was cradling its hand and screaming its head off. You were breathing heavily, immediately aware of how close you were to death’s door.
“Are you okay? Did you get hit?” He turned to you as he asked, gently holding your shoulders and inspecting your uniform for any blood. Whatever he saw just now felt so real, he had to check for himself if you were alive.
You shook your head, dazed as you saw the worry cloud his eyes. “No.”
He breathed out a heavy sigh, feeling relief flood into his system before scolding you lightly. “You need to be more careful! You almost got yourself killed!”
“Sorry, sorry. But that’s besides the point. How are we going to kill it? It’s blood demon art shows some pretty damn convincing illusions.”
Tomioka thought for a moment. “We need to distract it, keep one of us at the front while the other takes the kill from the back.”
You nod in affirmation. His idea made sense. “I’ll be the distraction.”
“What? No, i’ll do i—“ Giyuu stopped talking once he noticed the sound of a clashing sword and found that you weren’t there in front of him anymore. “Sure,” he sighed before gripping his sword and jumping on the trees’ branches for cover.
He didn’t notice you fighting earlier, but as he jumped from branch to branch all around the opening, he saw that you were incredibly fast. Even with his enhanced senses, you appeared to be a blur as you weaved in and out of the demon’s clutches, laughing all the while taunting it.
“Ahh, this is fun! You should’ve put on a fight like this with me back then!” Squealing, you darted out a hand and slashed at its neck. Unfortunately for the both of you, the demon was nearly as fast as you were, and you only managed to land a scratch on its skin.
“Annoying! The way you’re jumping around is annoying!”
Giyuu wanted you to stop talking so badly, because you weren’t supposed to rile the demon up like this! Distract it sure, but not bait it to want to kill you more!
“Oh, are you getting mad already? You seem a little red there.”
“ANNOYING! STOP! MOVING!”
“Ah, would you prefer me to stand still? I wouldn’t mind! You should have said so earlier.”
And when Giyuu saw your eyes dart to his for one quick second, he immediately knew what you wanted him to do.
In an instant, he launched himself off the branch he was on as you pulled back your sword and jabbed it at the demon’s forehead.
“Water breathing First Form: Water surface slash!” Quickly, he extended his sword and slashed at its neck before it could move a muscle as he twisted his body to avoid hitting you. The leaves crunched under his shoes as he landed on his feet a couple of feet away.
“Annoying, annoying, annoying! Put me back on my body so I could prove to you that I’m not pathetic!” The demon wailed as it started to disintegrate on your sword. “He would’ve let me move from Lower Moon 1 and let me join the Upper Moons if the two of you didn’t meddle! You two will pay for this!” It threatened, as the last of its body turned into ash, and its clothes fluttered down to the ground.
The clearing was quiet save for the wind whistling past and the tree leaves rustling by.
“That was the real one right?” You whispered, slightly anxious that another one would pop up in the silence.
“It is.”
Heaving a sigh, you looked back at Giyuu and saw him walking towards you.
“Are you okay? You hit your head right?” You asked him, surprise coloring your face when he tore a portion of his suit. “What are you doing?”
Gently, he took your arm and inspected a decently sized laceration settled neatly in between your shoulder and elbow. It was deep, but it was a clean cut and it wasn’t too bad, considering that you’ve had much worse such as broken bones and dislocated joints.
“Worry about yourself first, will you?” He turned your arm carefully, making sure that his actions were slow and steady before wrapping the piece of cloth carefully and with practiced ease.
You frown. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I feel fine. Now focus on yourself. This is pretty deep. It might need stitches.”
Though it was unlikely, you hoped that it was too dark for him to see your face clearly—it felt too warm for your liking. “I… didn’t notice.”
He tied the bandages off neatly, before answering, “You will soon. The adrenaline will probably wear off in a few minutes.”
“I’m not the best at first aid, but this will do for now. Try not to move so much until we get to Shinobu?”
It felt oddly nostalgic, seeing him worry like this a little, almost like a distant dream or a distant memory. “Thanks.”
Giyuu nodded before pulling out his phone from his coat pocket. “I’ll be updating HQ. Kakushi should arrive in a bit. Do you want to wait for them, or head back?”
You weighed the pros and cons before responding, “I wouldn’t mind waiting for them. The fight was fairly easy, but I feel drained. We could get checked too.”
“That’s a good idea,” he said as he typed another message while you sat down slowly beside a nearby tree trunk. Once he shut his phone, he followed your lead and leaned down on a tree a few feet from yours.
After a few minutes of a slightly tense silence, Tomioka decided to break it, and be the one to start the conversation.
“That… was the first time I saw you fight. You’re pretty fast (L/N)-san. It was amazing.”
“Oh?” You tried to mask the surprise in your voice. Hearing him initiate unnecessary conversation was something you weren’t used to, especially after your first conversation (if it could even be considered one) back at the Ubuyashiki tower. Was he offering an olive branch?
Regardless, you couldn’t deny the warm feeling in your chest as you looked up and automatically smiled up at him. “Well, you were doing really good yourself. I’ve never seen someone move that gracefully in a fight like that.”
At your compliment, he looked down at the ground as he tried to hide his nervous habit of fiddling with the hilt of his sword. “I’m not.”
“Oh don’t be modest now Tomioka-san! You looked amazing!”
“I was complimenting you; don’t turn it around on me.”
Laughing lightly, you let out a breathy “Okay, okay.” After deciding to not push your luck and that you’ve bothered him enough, you raised your hands in defeat before bringing them back down to your lap.
The silence that followed was definitely nicer compared to before, until he broke it again with a near inaudible whisper.
“Giyuu.”
“Hm?”
“Just… Giyuu. Giyuu is fine” he added, rubbing a hand on the nape of his neck.
Smiling widely, you turned to him, “If that’s the case, just (F/N) is fine too, Giyuu.”
“(F/N) it is then.” he spoke, feeling a sense of warm familiarity as he tested the way your name felt on his tongue.
Truthfully, he noticed when you called out his first name even in the heat of battle. It wasn’t much of a big deal back then, because the two of you were focused on staying alive and doing your job, but as he processed the fight in his head, he found that he didn’t mind, and that he actually liked how his name sounded in your voice.
As if on cue, the cracking of dried leaves and branches alerted you and Giyuu, instinct driving the two of you to grab onto the hilt of your nichirin blades. The tight grip on your swords only eased up when the familiar uniform of the kakushi moved into the clearing. There were around ten of them, seven surveying the area and taking down any evidence of the demon’s existence while there were three holding medical kits who walked over to the both of you.
They stopped once they reached a reasonable distance before bowing slightly. “Tomioka-sama, (L/N)-sama, please excuse us. We’ll be checking on your injuries.”
You muttered a grateful thanks as the kakushi attending to you started cleaning the wound Giyuu wrapped earlier. It was wrapped pretty well, so they only applied an ointment before replacing the cloth with gauze. “I apologize (F/N)-sama, I can’t suture your wound here because I’m not trained. We’ll immediately take you in the medical wing of the tower once you and Tomioka-sama head back.”
“Thanks,” you smiled as the kakushi bowed in front of you. “Hey, no need to bow, I really appreciate your help…?”
“...Tanaka Ayaka.”
“Really, thank you so much Tanaka-san.”
“O-Of course (L/N)-sama!” Tanaka said, bowing deeply in gratitude for your kind words.
As you and Tanaka argued on why she should or why shouldn’t bow, Giyuu watched discreetly, feeling the warmth pool in his stomach from the kindness you displayed. He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt the pain on his head multiply as the kakushi tending to him started wrapping gauze on his bleeding wound.
“Please bear with it for a bit longer Tomioka-sama, you have a concussion-”
Immediately, your gaze darted to the side. You weren’t eavesdropping on his conversation - truthfully, you only overheard - but when your eyes landed on a stream of blood coating patch of his hair and a portion of his pale skin you didn’t notice before, you absolutely flipped because how dare he tell you to worry about yourself first, when he was the one with a head injury!
“You idiot! You told me you were fine!”
The kakushi watched on in wide-eyed surprise (and slight fear as well) as the mighty Water Pillar looked everywhere else except at you, the fuming Thunder Pillar, who were scolding him (fairly lightly) for not telling you about his injuries.
Ayaka didn’t even argue with you afterwards.
Arriving at your estate after a mission used to be a nice moment for you, because you could rest and train at the comfort of your own home, but hearing the silent clunk of your keys resonate through the walls… you couldn’t help but feel a little cold and lonely.
It’s been a week since that mission with Giyuu back in Natagumo Mountain happened, and only a couple of hours since you left Ubuyashiki Tower. After your initial report to Oyakata-sama, he suggested that the two of you stay and take a few days off to heal your injuries at the medical floor. The two of you didn’t even resist as you were both led to adjacent rooms, showering immediately before dropping dead at the futon laid in your respective rooms. Now, you were as healthy as you could be, the laceration, bruises and scratches all healed thanks to the week of rest. Before you left, you made sure to inform the master of your recovery and thank Tanaka-san who took care of you and kept you company.
Taking off your blazer and loosening your blouse, you passed by your living room and walked into the kitchen to try and make something to appease the grumbling of your stomach. You did occasionally have your home cleaned on a schedule when you weren’t around, but moments like these were when you were a bit regretful of not hiring any at-home help.
The fridge was a welcome sight as you grabbed the handle to open the door; the contents however - or the lack thereof - weren’t as appealing because it was empty save for a wrinkled lemon, a few bottles of water, and a quarter-filled jug of milk.
“This is pathetic,” You grumbled as you recalled the moment you ate the last bit of leftovers without restocking your kitchen. Whyy.
“I hate myself,” you moaned to your empty kitchen.
Deciding to put yourself out of your misery, you walked up to your room to store your weapons and to change into a pair of jeans, and a hoodie. Once you were in something comfier, you grabbed your phone, your keys, your wallet, and a small nichirin dagger - for safety, at the off chance of getting ambushed by a demon or a human - and put on some white sneakers before locking your door and leaving your estate.
Taking a deep breath, you felt the cold night air nip at your lungs and the exposed skin of your face. The difference in temperature shook you a little, as you broke out into a jog. Pulling up your hood, you tug the strings tighter and into a cute little ribbon to prevent it from falling.
The walk to the convenience store would normally take fifteen minutes, but with you jumping on roofs and taking shortcuts you knew by heart, you were there in record time, and feeling hungrier than you did before.
The convenience store was a sight for sore eyes as the familiar ding sounded upon your entrance. Smiling at the clerk, you grabbed the largest basket and moved around the store, grabbing everything that looked appealing and piling them on as best as you can.
Once you were satisfied, you proudly walked back to the cashier and presented your precious loot to the boy in front of the register.
“Stocking up huh?” He smiled as he rang up your items.
“Yup. The lone lemon in my fridge was feeling a little lonely.” You joked as you grabbed your wallet.
The two of you chuckled as he bagged your food, pointing to the little screen of the cash register once it was done. “That would be 6,854 yen.” You gave a light nod and handed him a ten thousand yen bill. “Here, you can keep the change.”
His eyes bugged out of his sockets at the large tip “Yo, thanks, dude!”
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed familiar black hair, and a quick glance behind you took you by surprise.
“Tomioka-san! Why are you here?” You asked in surprise.
He eyed your overflowing bag and your silly attire. “Same reason why you are.” He answered. At his surprisingly sarcastic response, you quickly pulled back your hoodie, and looked him over to note that he was in a similar attire to you, though he was wearing a sweater and a cap, instead. “Although i’m just getting dinner, not the entire store.”
The remark caused you to flush red in embarrassment. You didn’t want him—or anyone really!!—to see you pig out. “Oh, um. Well, I’m just… restocking.” He seemed skeptical, but there was a ghost of a smile settling on his face.
“Okay,” He said casually as he moved past you further into the store.
Nodding at the cashier and grabbing your bags with both hands, you walked after giyuu, instinct ruling over rational thought.
“Hey,” you called after him. He turned back to look at you, causing you to stutter in your words a little. Why did you call for him? What could you say to make him stay for a little bit without making yourself look like a total fool? “I—… um, i mean, uh would you like to share my loot? I think i just bought most of their stock, and I… still haven’t thanked you for saving my life back at Natagumo.”
He raised a brow at you. “Loot?”
“The food I got,” you mumbled as you dropped your gaze to the ground and felt your face burn at your choice of words, because who in the world calls their groceries ‘loot’, except you? Ah, how embarrassing!
While you were wallowing in your misery, you missed the way Giyuu turned his face away from you and the way his shoulders shook from containing his laughter. You just looked too cute, all flushed and flustered like that, but he did his best to hold it in because he didn’t think you’d appreciate him laughing in your face.
After a moment, he composed himself, and went back to his cool and normal facade before replying a short, “Okay.”
“Great!” You beamed at him, trying to squash the butterflies in your stomach. “Want to head outside for the tables?”
“Sure. Lead the way.”
Unconsciously, you grabbed his hand after moving your other bag. You didn’t notice his face warm at your casual touch, but the cashier did, and he gave a thumbs up to a flustered Giyuu as the two of you passed by.
“Ah shit. I forgot to get drinks!” You exclaimed as you rummaged through your bags.
Giyuu watched you with a small smile. “With the amount of food you bought, I’m surprised you didn’t raid their drinks too.” He was joking, but he really was surprised. It’s like you bought everything in the store - The two of you already ate two bento boxes each, five bread buns each, three rice balls each, and had a cup noodle… each.
There was even another bag of chips open at the table, and your bags were still full!
“Is that a joke I hear?” You smiled, leaning back in your chair as you popped a chip into your mouth. “Well I didn’t expect to meet you here. I was originally going to eat at home.”
He nodded before standing and stretching a little.“Don’t worry I got it.”
“Wai-“ you were going to hand him spare change, but he was already at the vending machine two houses down the street.
You sighed and used your hands to prop your head upright. How unfair.
As he inserted a few bills in the slot, you couldn’t help but admire his profile. You always noticed him back at work. He was extremely professional, nearly passive as he was assigned missions and at the rare times you catch him training at headquarters. But as the two of you were here together in a convenience store, all of it felt so… so normal. In this short moment, you could just pretend that demons weren’t real, that you still had a family waiting for you back home, that you were just a normal twenty-one year old woman hanging out with a friend from work who you wished was a little more than just a friend.
“Cheater.” You pouted as he walked back within hearing range.
He ignored you, passing you a bottle. “Here.”
“Thanks.” You said, taking the bottle and looking at the cover. “Oh! Yuzu Juice! I didn’t know I told you about my obsession with these.”
“You didn’t.” He answered taking a seat, as you rummaged through your pockets for a bit of change.
“Really? Huh.” You didn’t seem to notice how he scrunched his eyebrows and looked at the drink carefully.
Normally, buying a drink for someone wouldn’t be a big deal, but he didn’t just randomly guess. It was almost second nature for him to pick that drink. He could almost hear a voice in his head that sounded so much like you.
You couldn’t come with Giyuu to Natagumo Mountain because you were hurt pretty badly from the last mission you went to. He had come to visit you at the Butterly Estate.
“Why are you so excited about a fruit?” Giyuu asked incredulously, as your eyes shimmered at the basket of yuzu fruits he brought. “It’s just a fruit right?”
You gasped as you hugged the basket away from him. You looked so offended that Giyuu was taken aback for a second, halfway considering an apology.
“Just a fruit? JUST a fruit?” you gasped again, more dramatically than the last, but you don’t think Giyuu understands you’re pulling his leg because he looks even more worried. “Am I actually hearing this from my own lover?”
“Why? What’s so great about it?” he asked, but you don’t miss the hidden panic underneath his voice. “Am I missing something?”
“It’s a yuzu fruit, Giyuu,” you lean in and whisper, like the greatest of secrets were being shared between the two of you. “And do you know what that means?”
Giyuu shakes his head slowly, entranced. He leans in as you motion for him to come closer.
“It means,” you whisper, before pecking his cheek and grinning as he blushes. “We can make my favorite drink.”
You laugh as Giyuu groans, burying his face in his hands as he fell for another one of your stupid jokes.
“Don’t forget, Giyuu,” You toss him a yuzu fruit from the basket before leading him to the kitchen of the Butterfly Estate. Hopefully Aoi and the other girls wouldn’t mind if you borrowed it for a bit. “I can never turn down some good yuzu juice.”
Giyuu blinks, and suddenly he can’t remember what he was thinking about just a second before. He felt like he was forgetting something very, very important.
“I… just took a wild guess.” he muttered. There was no use pondering about it now, no matter how hard he tried to grasp at the straws of his memory.
“Well, you made a pretty good guess.” Placing a hand over the cap, you opened the bottle and took a hearty sip “Ah, I love this so much! Here’s my share.” You said, offering a hand with the money.
“Oh please, as if I can’t afford to get you juice. Think of it as thanks for sharing your food with me.”
“Okay then,” because If he wanted to treat you, who were you to argue?
“Meeting adjourned. Stay alert, the issues we’ve talked about will be sent later as a mission to some of you.” The room was once again bathed in light as Oyakata-sama pressed a button which shut down the projector and automatically drew the meeting room curtains back open. You and your fellow pillars stood as Amane-sama grabbed the handles of the master’s wheelchair. “I’ll be seeing all of you at the next meeting. Take care, my children.”
All of you bowed deeply as Amane-sama closed the door shut, before the nine of you stood from the chairs situated around the large table, moving to talk to the others.
“(F/N),” you immediately felt your heartbeat faster. You would’ve kicked yourself for reacting in such a way when he called for you, but damn it if it didn’t make you feel nice.
I think my heart is broken, what the hell.
“Ah, Giyuu, are we still on for training later?” you smiled politely at your co-worker, and Giyuu faltered for a second too fast for you to have noticed before he had already recomposed himself.
“Yes, but don’t expect me to pull my punches just because it’s training,” Giyuu felt the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly as he watched your face flush.
“I’ll have you know that I hardly break a sweat from fighting off demons alone, so I should be the one to tell you that,” your cheeks were puffed from indignation. The words pour out of you without thinking and you don’t even realize what you’re saying anymore. “Besides, when have you ever pulled your punches? You said you’d always spar with me using everything you had so I wouldn’t die out in-”
“What…?” Giyuu’s voice knocked you out of your rant. He had a funny look on his face, like you had said something odd. You immediately backtrack to your little spiel in search of something wrong - something embarrassing - you might’ve said. “When did I…?”
When has he ever pulled his punches? I mean, it’s true, I’m sure of that, but…?
You stop. How would you have known that? This was your first training session together. What were you going on about? By the thoughtful yet confused look on Giyuu’s face, you could tell the words had not gone unnoticed.
“N-nevermind that,” you tried to salvage your pride, despite your ever glowing face. “I, uh, I don’t know what I’m saying. Sorry, I just…”
“No, it’s fine,” Giyuu shook his head and waved away your apology. There was a pause before he seemed to make up his mind. “Actually I was—“
“Tomioka-san!” You and Giyuu jump as Shinobu suddenly pops up between the both of you. You’re confused whether to be thankful for her cutting in or not - on one hand, she had saved you from more embarrassment, but on the other, you wanted to know what Giyuu was going to say. “Sorry to cut your conversation short, but we need to borrow (F/N)-chan for a little bit. This won’t take long!”
Without even waiting for Giyuu to respond, Shinobu’s already dragging you away from the black haired male. You turn to look back at him apologetically.
“Sorry, I’ll meet you in the training hall,” you see him wave at you in goodbye before Shinobu makes you turn a corner and you both enter an empty meeting room. Well, it was mostly empty, save for a couple of people.
“So, Shinobu, Mitsuri… Uzui and Kyoujuro? What’s up...?” you ask hesitantly. You don’t like the knowing looks and the mischievous grins they have on their faces.
“You tell us.” You don’t like the glint in Shinobu’s eyes as she stares you down. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen Tomioka initiate a conversation on his own.”
“Or smile for that matter.” Mitsuri added, barely suppressing her grin. Shit, didn’t she live for this kind of thing? You were definitely fucked. You need to get out or you’re dead.
Uzui hummed before getting all up in your face, making you take an involuntary step back, but Kyoujuro blocks you from taking another step. You were surrounded on all sides. “Yeah, it was weird. Did you do anything flamboyant to him?”
“Excuse me?” Did they think you pulled some sort of magic trick over him? A sort of spell? “I did nothing!”
“Nothing, she said!” Mitsuri squealed, before turning back to you with eyes glittering. “Did you see the way he looked at you? He looked like he was on cloud nine!”
He… he did?
Brushing it off, you wave off their words, because the very thought of him being genuinely happy while talking to you made you ridiculously happy. And you didn’t want these idiots to see it. You were not going to give them the pleasure of seeing you turn into a bumbling, blushing mess.
“Oh, please, if anything It’s m-” You cut yourself off once you realized that finishing that sentence would lead to an entirely different ballpark you were not willing to enter. “You know what? Nevermind. Giyuu’s waiting for me so I have to go.”
“Oh, so it’s ‘Giyuu’ now huh?” You catch their words before you make up your mind to book it. You thought you were free because you only had to take one more step to get out of this cursed room, but a strong, yet slender hand darted out to grab your wrist, effectively preventing you from walking out of this room and out of this conversation.
“Nu-uh, not until you answer us,” Misturi grinned, locking you into a hug to make sure you didn’t try to run away again.
“Guys, I swear, we need to train.” you grumbled, feeling the sweat gathering over your forehead.
Uzui tsk-ed, and placed a hand over your shoulder. Great, just what you needed: another restraint. “Look, we’re just curious. Tomioka’s flamboyant, but he’s a pretty quiet guy so we’re worried for him.”
“Aw... well, tough shit, I’m going now.” You say, finally prying yourself free from Mitsuri’s soft albeit annoyingly strong grip.
“(F/N)-chan, you don’t have to deny it.” Placing a hand over your shoulder, Misuri smiled softly at you, and you didn’t like how you could practically see the hearts flying around her back.
“Deny what?” Maybe, if you acted like you had no idea what they were talking about, they would drop it, and you can leave, and you can train with Giyuu.
But such things in life would never happen, and you were doomed the very moment Shinobu snuck up on your conversation. You didn’t like the thought of him waiting for you while your coworkers hounded you.
The four of you turned when you heard a light sniffle come from Gyomei. “Ah, to be young and in love.”
“Wh-? No, it’s not like that at all!” you tried to defend yourself, but by the look on their faces you knew you were fighting a one-sided war. They were convinced there was something going on. To be honest, the more time you spent stuck in the room with them the more you were slowly coming to terms with your own feelings. And that was not good. “Besides, we only went on one job together, so why-”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of love at first sight~” Mitsuri giggled, and by the look on her face you had a guess she was already planning the wedding.
“Love at first sight, my ass,” you groaned, recalling your first assignment together. “He basically told me to shut up the first time I tried talking to him. What’s supposed to be cute about that?”
“The first time,” Shinobu emphasized, and you buried your face in your hands at her knowing smile. “But from what we just saw, not only did you talk again, but he even initiated the conversation himself.”
“Not to mention you’re going to be training together,” Kyoujuro nodded vehemently. “And as far as I can remember from my time as a Pillar, Tomioka has never trained with anyone because he preferred to train on his own.”
“And I guess now I’m never going to find out what training with him is like because you guys insist on keeping me here,” you were honestly proud of yourself that you haven’t punched someone yet - but you were oh so painfully close. If not one of them, then you might just punch yourself just to escape the shame. This felt oddly claustrophobic and it was making you slowly lose your mind. “Also, when have you guys turned into detectives?”
“(F/N)-san, we would’ve let you go already if you’d just admit what was going on between you and Tomioka,” you stared dumbfounded as they all nodded, waiting patiently for your answer.
If you guys think I’m going to crack first, you’re dead wrong.
“It’s nothing, okay?” you sighed, exhaustion over this whole ordeal finally setting in. Would you even be able to train with Giyuu like this? “He invited me to train with him after I almost messed up during our mission. That’s all there is. You guys have just been looking too much into it.”
The room goes quiet, the other Pillars taking turns to look at one another, unsure of where to go from there. You shake your head as you pass by them and make your exit.
“NO! I refuse to believe that!”
Oh my god, no, please.
You look incredulously at Mitsuri as she blocks the door in front of you. You feel your eyes twitch sporadically, your hand that was already holding on to the doorknob tightening and your knuckles going white.
“Mitsuri, come on,” you groan. You weren’t too keen on saying anything (too) bad at the pink haired girl since she was honestly really nice, just ever so slightly airheaded, and getting into bad terms with her husband Obanai didn’t sound too appealing. “What more do you want from me?”
“How about the flamboyant truth, (F/N)?” your head whipped back at lightning speed at Uzui, who merely laughed at the dead-eyed smile you gave him.
“What ‘truth’? I already told you guys, I-”
“(F/N)-san, one last thing,” your head turns to Kyoujuro, who shares a look with Shinobu. You watch as something passes between them, before the Insect Pillar nods back at him with a sweet smile. Kyoujuro grins as he turns back to you. “Just do this one thing for us and I promise we’ll let you out.”
Shit. I don’t like that.
But you stand your ground. “And that would be…?”
“Can you look into my eyes and tell me that there’s nothing going on between you?” he raised an eyebrow, challenging you with his wide eyes that seemed to stare deep into your soul.
You lower your head, mentally preparing yourself. You pray to whatever higher being that could hear you to give you the strength to get through this unscathed.
Please, for the love of my sanity-
You look back to Kyoujuro, head held high. He holds your stare - his eyes were intimidating as hell - but to your relief, he backs off first after a good few seconds. He sighs, as does Shinobu.
“Fine, fine. You win, (F/N)-san,” Shinobu grumbles.
“For now,” Uzui throws you a mischievous grin as you pass by. You scowl at him.
“Whaaaaat? We’re letting her go?” Mitsuri wailed as Kyoujuro practically pried her off of the door.
“A deal’s a deal, Mitsuri-san,” Kyoujuro said.
You’ve barely taken a step out the door when a hand is placed over your shoulder. You don’t bother to turn around, scared you really might punch someone this time.
“(F/N), one last thing,” Sighing, you turn back heavily, because it feels like they’ll never let you leave, but when you see Gyomei smiling kindly at you, you can’t help but return it too. “Remember, there is no shame in admitting your feelings. Face them head on and find strength within it. You can only run from your problems for so long until you loop back to where you started, because you can never stop things that were set in stone by fate.”
Despite how drained you were feeling, you manage a genuine smile. “Understood, guys.”
Letting out a sigh, you were finally able to breathe after your nosy coworkers got all up in your business. You were glad that you were alone in the elevator, because at least now you could take a moment to compose yourself and get rid of the blazing blush before you faced Giyuu.
“Can you look into my eyes and tell me that there’s nothing going on between you?”
Kyojuro’s words echo in your head. You were unbelievably lucky for being able to keep your poker face before he cracked, because if that stare-down lasted a second longer, you would’ve burst, and confessed your feelings to them instead of Giyuu.
Snapping out of your thoughts, the doors opened to a bright wide room that smelled of wood and steel. The training hall was one of the many floors in the building and the Corps spared no expense in getting it look as it did with high ceilings, and large areas divided into varying sizes. Some areas were even designed after different types of terrain.
You spot Giyuu with his back to you, warming up in the center on the biggest mat of the entire hall. He was doing practice swings with a wooden sword.
“Hey, sorry I'm late,” You say, causing him to pause mid-swing as he turns to see you grabbing a wooden sword on the far wall and depositing your own blade beside his. He watched, slightly mesmerized as you gathered your hair into a high ponytail on top of your head. “Want to get started?”
He shook off his daze before he raised a brow at you, setting his sword tip down against the ground and leaning a bit of his weight over it. “You’re not going to warm up?”
Smirking, you say “Oh please, this is my warm-up.” You don’t give him a chance to reply as you move straight for him, sword held high.
In one effortless swoop, Giyuu had his sword in front of him blocking your swing with ease. “That’s cheating, in case you weren’t aware.”
“I know.” You smiled, before retracting and swinging again. “But I prefer to call it strategy.”
“Haaaa,” You breathed out before dropping on the floor. “I’m glad we’re on the same team. Fighting you is crazy exhausting.”
Walking towards you, he offered you a water bottle and once you took it, he sat down beside you. He was so close, you could feel the warmth radiate off him. “Likewise. You’re ridiculously fast.”
“And you’re ridiculously strong.” You smiled, taking a sip from the bottle he gave you.
The two of you were quiet, keeping each other company as the other regained their breath. In the silence, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to the conversation back in the meeting room.
“I don’t think we’ve ever seen Tomioka initiate a conversation on his own.”
“Did you see the way he looked at you? He looked like he was on cloud nine!”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of love at first sight~”
“But from what we just saw, not only did you talk again, but he even initiated the conversation himself.”
“As far as I can remember from my time as a Pillar, Tomioka has never trained with anyone because he preferred to train on his own.”
“Remember, there is no shame in admitting your feelings. Face them head on and find strength within it. You can only run from your problems for so long until you loop back to where you started, because you can never stop things that were set in stone by fate.”
All of their words passed by your head like a snapshot. It was slightly disorienting hearing the others comment on your relationship with the Water Pillar. You liked him, but you already planted it in your head that you had no chance. Because who were you kidding? One look at him, and you knew that you were out of his league. He was good-looking (though that was more of a bonus than anything), dedicated, strong, and had a dry sense of humor that could rival your own. A guy like that was bound to have someone waiting for him at home. He was too much of a catch for you to believe otherwise.
“(F/N)?”
“Yeah?” you hum distractedly, still completely submerged into your own head.
“Do you-” He started, and abruptly, your bubble of fantasies popped.
He was looking at you weirdly, an expression you’ve never seen him make, and somehow your mind managed to mix that up with him being able to read your thoughts. You just panicked, your mouth spouting off nonsense before you could process anything, trying in vain to protect yourself from rejection. “No! I don’t like you!”
“Oh.” He looked back at his folded hands before adding a short “I’m sorry.”, before you realized what you just said. Regret immediately washed over you.
“No, I mean, I don’t not like you, I-I’m not making any sense-”
He interrupted you gently before standing up and dusting off his clothes. “No, it’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself. I understand. Sorry if you felt forced to train with me.”
Oh my god, you’ve never wanted to slap yourself harder in your life than you did in this moment.
You fucked up. You fucked up so bad.
You reach for him, trying to explain, “Wait, don’t misunderstand please, I was jus-”
“Really, it’s fine. I know I'm not the easiest person to like. Especially with how I treated you back on our first mission.”
“Giyu-”
“I’ll be leaving now (L/N)-san. I’m sorry again.”
And that was the last straw. Hearing him call out your name in such a cold voice hit you so deeply that you tell the consequences to fuck off as you stand up, and pull him back to you.
“(L/N)-san, I swear, it’s fine-” Neither of you get to hear how he ends his sentence, because you grab his shirt, and pull him closer, until your lips were pressed against his.
You felt your resolve crumble as your lips moved against his own, and as his hands reached over, cradling your face closer to his. It was so soft, so warm, and your heart ached as you felt your eyes start to sting. After a moment, the two of you pull away, bringing your foreheads close, before you spiral into a wild spiel.
“You idiot! If you would just listen!” You whisper lightly, afraid of what his reaction would be. “I like you. I really, really like you. I didn’t mean what I said. I only said that because you caught me off guard and I didn’t think you’d like me back! I’m scared of being rejected by you because you're smart, you're funny, you're nice… ”
“I didn't want to tell you but I got caught up in my thoughts, and I just… I know what I said, and I’m sorry, I'm really sorry. It might sound like an excuse to you, but you really did catch me off guard. If I could take it back I would.”
“I’m really sorry, Gi...Tomioka-san. I hope you could forgive me.” You say, before you untangle your arms wrapped around his neck, and walk yourself to the elevator, not even waiting for the inevitable rejection you’d get from him.
Pushing the doors open, you didn’t notice how the other pillars - namely Mitsuri, Shinobu, Kyojuro, and Uzui - were still situated around the room, because your only goal now was to get the bag you left earlier, leave straight for your home, and sleep.
When they saw your puffy eyes however, all of them looked amongst each other, before pushing Mitsuri closer towards you.
“(F/N)-chan, are you okay?” At Mitsuri’s soft voice, you jumped out of your skin, cradling your bag to your chest as a shield.
“W… What are you guys still doing here?” You ask, before furiously wiping at your eyes.
“You’re avoiding our question. Why are you crying?” Normally, you would’ve brushed them off, and replied in a snarky comment, but you were tired, and you just wanted your bed.
“I... Tomioka and I got into a little fight, is all.” You replied, not even looking up from fixing up your bag.
Mitsuri immediately looked back at the others upon hearing you say ‘Tomioka’, before rubbing your back consolingly. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”
You sniffed. “No, not really. I’m just tired and I want to go home.”
A quick look passed between Mtsuri and Kyojuro before the Flame Hashira walked over to you.
“And home you shall go! C’mon, (F/N), I’ll drive you back.” Kyojuro said, grabbing a hold of your bag while Misturi took your hand, leading the two of you after Kyojuro. “Yeah! I’ll make you some pancakes, and lots of other food!”
Once the three of you left, Shinobu looked up at Uzui, and nodded.
Shinobu and Uzui found Giyuu splayed back at the center training mat.
For a good second the pair thought that the Water Pillar had fainted, or something of the same degree. But upon getting closer, they noticed him looking up, dazed, with a hand over his lips. Making their way over, they sat at either side of him, waiting for him to acknowledge their presence.
“What are you two even doing here.” Giyuu blinked as he realized he wasn’t alone in the room anymore. They were looking down at him with a mix of surprise and amusement. “Did you just come to stare at me?”
“We should be the one asking you that,” two seconds into talking to Giyuu and he was already testing Shinobu’s patience. “(F/N) went back to the meeting room.”
“Yeah. She was crying flamboyantly, by the way.” Uzui nodded briskly, arms crossed and eyes closed in thought.
Giyuu couldn’t deny how his chest had tightened at the memory of you walking out earlier, “I know.”
When he didn’t speak for another few seconds, clearly having no plans to elaborate until prodded, Shinobu sighed. “Care to tell us what happened?”
Do I have to…? Giyuu scowled softly. But he might as well, since he was lost ever since you left, with no clue what to do next.
“... She told me she didn’t like me, so I apologized and moved to leave,” Giyuu’s voice was no louder than a whisper, as if he was scared someone would overhear. But the other Pillars heard him nonetheless. “But then she kissed me and told me she liked me before leaving me here.”
Shinobu would be lying if she didn’t admit she felt victorious. So you were lying. HA! But that’s a conversation for another time. Right now, you left the other half of the party lying down on the training room floor and it seemed they needed to drag him back to his feet if they wanted a straight answer from you.
“And? How do you feel about that?” Shinobu poked the side of Giyuu’s cheek, but it’s like the male was still lost somewhere they couldn’t reach as he failed to give the slightest reaction besides words.
“Confused.” Giyuu muttered mostly to himself. “Really confused.”
“I feel like there’s a flamboyant ‘But’ in there...?” Uzui honestly felt like he was getting his child to admit what he did wrong - except he had no child, he was talking to the Water Pillar, a grown man who should’ve been easy getting answers from.
Giyuu’s eyes softened at the idea of you, and the kiss from earlier, and the look didn’t exactly escape the surrounding Pillars. “I like her too. A lot.”
Shinobu suddenly stood up, surprising both males. “Well, then, you’ve got your answer. So what are you lying around here for?”
“She left, I doubt she wants to speak with me now,” Giyuu muttered, disheartened - which was the exact opposite of what Shinobu wanted to achieve.
She remembered something odd she noticed when you had left earlier, so she looked around the room and felt like she struck gold.
“Oh, she did leave, it’s definitely too late for that,” Shinobu says, brushing aside Giyuu’s sarcastic “gee, thanks”. “But I have a hunch that she’ll be returning soon.You’ll just have to wait.”
Shinobu pointed to the far end of the training room, forcing Giyuu to muster the energy to sit up to see where she was pointing to. There on the wall was your Nichirin blades among the rack of extra training swords.
“I can’t believe how stupid I am today.” You grumbled before exiting the elevator.
You were on your way home with Mitsuri and Kyojuro, when you noticed that the sword strapped to your waist wasn’t your nichirin blade, but the wooden one from the training hall. Kyojuro was nice enough to turn the car around back to the building, and pressed the hazard button on the car as he pulled up in front of Ubuyashiki tower.
“Take your time (F/N)-san, Mitsuri-san and I will wait here.” Lightly, you smile at him before grabbing the wooden sword and going into the building.
And this is where you find yourself. You were back in the training hall, warm orange light filtering through the large windows as the sun began to set. You were glad you noticed your missing sword when you did because not being prepared for a mission could cost someone’s life. Running your fingers through the wall, you open the lights and feel a slight disappointment at how empty the hall was of people - or rather one raven-haired male.
You messed up once already, (F/N). Why add to that by wishing he was here?
Letting out a sigh, you move to the wall, to where your sword was supposed to be, and jump out of your skin when you notice the Water Pillar leaning over and facing away from you towards the window.
Of course. Of-fucking-course. Because why not?
Quietly, and in hopes to avoid him seeing you, you creeped carefully along the wall, clutching your nichirin blade to your chest, as you exchanged it with the wooden sword. You turn around, thankful that he didn’t seem to notice your presence before walking to the ele-
“Why did you leave earlier?” He asks, not moving an inch from his position.
Of course he noticed you.
“I didn’t think any of us had anything else to say.” you fiddle with the blade in your hands, refusing to turn and face him. Your hands haven’t shook this much in years, the last time being when you had first fought a demon.
“Well, I had something to say,” You cringe as he turned to you, his face as beautifully stoic as you had always known.
Okay, wow. You knew he had a bit of a mean streak going on, one that died down when it came to talking to you but you didn’t really think he was mean enough to roast you for having a stupid crush. Sure, you did accidentally say you didn’t like him, but that was a lie - obviously, since you kissed him like the suicidal dumbass that you were.
“Well, I’m here now, so we might as well rip the bandaid,” you say that, but as his eyes bore into your own, you realize that you’re not ready for what he has to say and you cut in as he opens his mouth. “Before you say anything though, I just wanted to say that I completely understand if you want to stay away from me and-”
As you rambled on, you didn’t notice him walk closer. Giyuu had a determined look on his face as he grabbed onto your hands that were nervously playing with your sword, and held them in his own, softly running a thumb over your knuckles. You immediately drag your gaze from the floor and into his eyes, seeing warmth and gentleness in his blue irises.
Giyuu’s eyes never leave yours, even as he asks, “I do have something to say… If you would listen?”
You swallowed, your mouth feeling dry, as you give him a slight nod.
He breathes deeply before he speaks. “I’ll admit. I don’t really care what others think of me, as long as I’m doing my job and they’re doing theirs. I’m used to people saying I’m cold, and unlikable, but for the past few weeks, I found your company comforting, and I thought that we’ve been genuinely getting along with each other. So when you said you didn’t like me when I was going to ask if you wanted to have another match, I was really confused and hurt.”
“I’m sorry-” You interrupt, before he shakes his head and asks you to let him finish.
“So, I was really surprised when you pulled me back and kissed me. Then you go off telling me that you like me, not even 5 minutes after you told me you didn’t, and then you leave, not even letting me process anything, or telling you what I had to say.”
Giyuu stops for a moment, opening his eyes and looking deep into yours. He seemed to debate something for a moment before he decided, and took a short breath.
“If you would have waited, I would have told you that I like you too.” Your knees felt absolutely weak as he placed his forehead over yours. You could feel the rough calluses on his hands as he squeezed yours softly.
“You would have?” You ask. He nods. “Do you really?”
Your heart melts when you see his face change into a soft smile, a smile he only put on for you. “I do. I really like you (F/N).”
It felt so surreal hearing him say that he liked you too. You felt like you could fly.
“I like you too.” A small watery laugh bubbles up from your throat, and a warm giddy feeling swirls around your stomach, easily replacing the heavy feeling of regret.
You could feel the tears fall from your eyes and the blood rush to your face. You pull your hands off from his as you use it to cover the raging blush on your cheeks. “Ugh, stop making me cry. This has to be the most I've ever cried in my life.”
“And it’s the most I’ve ever been confused in mine too… but I hope it’s happy tears now?” He takes both of your hands into his left, using his other to wipe at the tears and cradle your face, like you were a priceless jewel.
“Yeah,” You hum, moving closer and letting his left hand release your hands as his arm wraps around your waist. He pulls you closer and you revel in his warmth. “Can you say it again?”
“I like you.” His smile grows fonder as you lean into his touch, and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Giyuu has never felt so content in his life.
“Again?”
“I really, really like you.” He says softly, and your mouth stretches into a smile that mirrors his.
“Prove it?” You ask, faintly hinting at what you wanted him to do as your faces move closer and closer until you were an inch apart and could feel his breath fan over your face.
“Okay,” He whispers, before he finally leaned in and kissed you again.
BONUS:
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Obanai groaned as he rolled over in the large training room floormat. You might have used wooden sticks, but it still hurt like hell.
“I didn’t know the training room floor was so cozy,” Muichiro mused, staring up at the ceiling as he was splayed on the ground. “I don’t think I’ve ever been knocked down before. (F/N)-san, help me sit up. My spine feels tingly ever since you hit me.”
You laughed sheepishly, crouching beside the Mist Pillar before helping him sit up. Giyuu, on the other hand, was standing over Obanai, looking down at the Serpent Pillar with a bored gaze.
“You told me not to hold back,” Giyuu deadpanned, bi-colored irises glaring at him from below.
Word had travelled fast that you and Giyuu were going out. And of course, since you had always been dragged into the Pillars’ shenanigans, you had decided it was time that Giyuu be a part of the group. So to warm up a bit to the idea of having him around, you had offered the idea to have a training session with everyone, doing pair up battles to save time and promote teamwork. They agreed, since they have never seen Giyuu train with you, much less have trained with him themselves.
But the idea backfired hard.
“Tomioka and (L/N) win,” Gyomei announces, a small smile on his face. He looked amused more than anything. “That’s 3 wins.”
You decided the pairs by letting four people write their names on scraps of paper and letting the other four pick from the pile. Gyomei had decided to sit this one out and be the moderator, so the numbers balanced out. And since Giyuu was the so-called “guest of honor”, the others had allowed him to pick first.
“You guys rigged it. I know you fucking did,” Sanemi grumbled.
Giyuu had miraculously pulled out your name from the pile. Sure, there were only four names, but it was still a one-out-of-four odds.
“You can check if you want, Sanemi,” you sighed in exasperation. “I didn’t do shit to that paper.”
“Bullshit,” he roughly grabs the scrap from Giyuu and inspects it, the other Pillars laughing as he nitpicks your paper.
You stand next to Giyuu, who was leaning on a wall away from the Pillars, and ask in a soft voice so no one else could hear. “Alright. How’d you do it?”
You see him smile for a fraction of a second from the corner of your eye. “You press down on your pen too much when you write, so I just felt around for the paper that had the most indentations.”
“How the fuck…?” Sanemi exclaimed, and you laughed again.
“You’re so amazing!” Mitsuri squealed, bounding up to the training room floor and glomping you. “You guys worked together flawlessly! ”
“That’s putting it too lightly,” Uzui laughed. “They flamboyantly wiped us out.”
“Yes! Truly amazing!” Kyoujuro nodded. “I’m aware of both of your prowess, but this was truly overwhelming.”
“You fuckers cheated!” Sanemi growled, walking over to the training room floor and pointing his wooden sword at the two of you. “How did you-”
“Your attacks are mostly mid level swings, aimed at the stomach,” Giyuu answers passively as he sits down beside you and Muichiro on the floor.
“Wh…?” For the first time, Sanemi is caught off guard, and so are the other Pillars, but you nod at Giyuu’s words. You don’t notice how they stared at the both of you weirdly.
“Yeah, you do,” you laugh softly, before making a slow sweeping motion with your wooden sword, Giyuu parrying it once it’s within his distance. “You swing, and then when your opponent curls up, either from pain or to try and dodge, you go for a thrust.”
When you stop talking, you and Giyuu turn to the other Pillars, who were mostly looking at you with gaped mouths. Shinobu and Kyoujuro had frozen smiles on their faces and Obanai and Sanemi were looking at you like you had force fed them rotten food.
Was it something you said…?
“Hey, (F/N)-chan,” Shinobu suddenly cut in through the silence, smiling as pleasant as ever. “How did you beat me? Tomioka-san uses hard force to deflect but-”
“You usually do thrusts. I guess because of your sword style, right?” you answer, almost impulsively. “It ends up leaving too many openings, especially if someone hits you from the side.”
“You only do slashes when you’re close enough,” Giyuu adds. “But you thrust when you’re too far away because it helps with your speed and momentum.”
You blink again, the room coming into view again, and find the others staring at you, more confused than anything.
“Tomioka-san? (F/N)-chan?” Shinobu asked, the smile gone. Shit, did you say something you shouldn’t have? “What are you talking about…? I only use a revolver because it carries my poisons better. My sword is usually reserved as a last resort, but I haven’t used it in a long time. I was a bit off today since I’m not used to it anymore, but...”
“Not to mention,” Sanemi grumbles to the side, looking at the both of you suspiciously. “I haven’t gone on any fucking mission with you guys. How the hell do you know how I fight? You stalkers, or something?”
You turn to Giyuu, and he turns to you with a confused look that probably mirrored your own. The other Pillars stared, waiting for your answer. But you blanched.
How the fuck do I answer that?
Finally, Giyuu breaks the stare and turns to the other Pillars, “Mission and Training videos.”
You blinked. And so did the others. Every single one of you had the same confused looks on your faces.
Mission and training… videos?
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of them?” Giyuu raised an eyebrow at the Pillars, who looked at one another, expecting someone to know. He sighs as he points up at a surveillance camera at the corner of the training room. “They’re a collection of videos in the Corps archives, mostly of the Pillars during joint training sessions or battles with the Twelve Demon Moons. They’re captured using the crow-drones or the cameras scattered inside and around the building. Demon Slayers can ask to view them for educational purposes, like learning a new breathing technique.”
You gape at Giyuu and Pillars in turn, a frown slowly etching over your face. Something told you that wasn’t the whole truth. Maybe the videos were real, but on how you knew about the other’s battle styles, well…
“There’s such a thing…?” Shinobu mutters thoughtfully, looking at you and Giyuu.
Uh-oh, looks like she doesn’t buy it.
“EEK!” Mitsuri suddenly exclaims, and Shinobu and the others jump from the shrill sound. “What if my videos are super embarrassing? I have to check!”
And she’s out the door, followed closely by Obanai who was trying to reassure her that it was okay. You’re rather surprised Obanai got up so quickly when he was just on the floor earlier.
“Shit like that exists? And I’m only finding out about this now?” Sanemi grumbled, his aura carefully getting angrier and angrier. “What if the fucking demons get a hold of those videos?”
Sanemi was out the door in the next second, yelling about giving away the corps’ battle strategies. Kyoujuro and Uzui followed, interested about seeing the videos. Gyomei took Muichiro to the clinic with Shinobu. The Insect Pillar cast you a questioning look before trailing behind the Stone and Mist Pillars.
And then it was just you and Giyuu again.
“Giyuu?” you called out softly in the silence. When you hear him hum, signalling that he was listening, you push on. “I’ve never seen those videos before. I didn’t even know they existed.”
You turn to him when he lets out a soft laugh, “I haven’t either. I read about them in a report a long time ago, but I never felt the need to see them.”
Wordlessly, Giyuu lies back down on the training mat, arms crossed behind his head. He stares up at the ceiling, looking deep in thought. There’s a question at the tip of your tongue, something you’ve always wanted to ask, but could never muster the strength to actually say outloud.
“It’s odd. Shinazugawa was right. I’ve never been assigned to go on a mission with him,” Giyuu started, still staring up at the ceiling, seemingly muttering to himself. “But I knew how he was going to move. It was almost like-”
“Like you’ve fought with him before?” you finished, and you turned to Giyuu to find his eyes already staring deep into your’s.
“That’s the thing, though,” Giyuu scowled, your image blurring at the edges. Was that a kimono you were wearing? “I’ve never trained with any of them before today. But it felt like I knew what to do. Like I’ve seen it before. Not in a video, though.”
“More like muscle memory,” you mumble, lost in Giyuu’s eyes. Has his hair always been that long? “Like my body already knew how to move on its own.”
The silence stretched on, but it was almost like time had stopped for the both of you.
“I’m not ready,” you sighed shakily, your hands wringing around as you paced in the room before the Ubayishiki garden. You could hear the yells and grunts of your fellow Pillars, mixed in with the clash of swords. “Sanemi always looks at me like I’m a demon and I think this is his chance of actually cutting my head off.”
“Relax, (F/N),” Giyuu sighed, taking your hands into his and rubbing them, trying to get the blood circulating again. “On the bright side, at the very least, he still sees you. I think he sees me as an annoying fly.”
You manage a shaky laugh, and Giyuu takes it as a small victory before making you look him in the eye.
“You’ll be fine, but if you need help,” he smiles softly and you don’t miss the mischief in his eyes. “These are just some things I’ve noticed when he tries to attack me…”
You blink, and you're back in the training room. Where were you just now? There wasn’t a room like that in the whole building. It was old, like the traditional Japanese houses you’d see on T.V. and books. But Giyuu was there, and so were you and the other Pillars, apparently. Your eyes find Giyuu’s face again, and he looks just as confused. Did he see that, too…?
“You know, (F/N), there have been moments where I feel like I’ve seen them happen before, especially when I’m with you,” Giyuu starts hesitantly. You wouldn’t think it weird, would you? “I know for a fact they haven’t, Shinazugawa and Kocho was proof of that, but they just feel so real. And I couldn’t explain them.”
You think of his words for a second - they were exactly what you felt - and nod for him to continue. “But now I wonder - I always push them away because I don’t remember them happening, but now that I think about it, just because they haven’t happened from what I remember, doesn’t mean they never happened, at all.”
“Don’t remember...but doesn’t mean they never happened…?” you whisper, the question you’ve wanted to ask threatening to break out. But looking at Giyuu’s eyes, the wall you’ve been building around to keep your thoughts in place are broken down. “...Like in another life...?”
The question hangs in the air for another second before Giyuu’s face breaks into a small smile and he lets out a small laugh. He turns away from you, and you’re left confused all over again.
“You should see the look on your face right now,” he says, and you turn red at the realization he’s laughing at you. “It’s priceless. Sorry, but you’re really cute.”
“You…!” you tackle him, straddling him and lifting him by the collar of his shirt. “Were you just making fun of me?”
Giyuu stares at you fondly, basically confirming your question. Your blush gets darker as you stand up wordlessly and pack up your belongings. You couldn’t believe he was just pulling your leg! And you fucking fell for it!
Your cheeks are puffed up in anger as you walk out of the training room. You hear Giyuu’s footsteps and his voice calling out for you, but you don’t make the effort to let him know you noticed him.
When you step out of the building, Giyuu finally catches up to you, holding on to your hand.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said. You frown at him hard and he responds by raising his free hand in surrender. “I really am. Sorry for laughing.”
You pout, before returning his grip. You suppress laughing at the relieved look on his face. “You’re paying for dinner, I’ll have you know.”
The two of you walk in tranquil silence on your way to your favorite restaurant. You don’t notice Giyuu’s loving stare as you walk hand in hand. For a second, you’re both walking back from a mission. Your kimono and uniform were battered pretty bad, and you had a bruise at the corner of your mouth, but you look up at him and smile.
You turn to Giyuu in surprise when he suddenly squeezes your hand. “Giyuu…?”
“If it really was another life,” he whispers, and you had half a mind to tell him off for trying to pull your leg again. But at the misty look in his eyes - the same one you stared at earlier in the training room - you shut your mouth. “I’m glad I found you again.”
You smile softly, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, me, too.”
#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer#kny#giyuu#giyuu tomioka#giyu tomioka#tomioka giyuu#tomioka giyu#kimetsu giyuu#kimetsu no yaiba giyuu#kimetsu tomioka#kimetsu no yaiba tomioka#fluff#angst#light angst#kny x reader#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#demon slayer x reader#giyuu tomioka x reader#tomioka giyuu x reader#oyakata#kagaya ubuyashiki#amane ubuyashiki#shinobu#shinobu kochō#uzui#uzui tengen#kyojuro#kyojuro rengoku#mitsuri
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Hello there! Could you write a combination of fluffs 3, 39, 45 and general s 12, 23, 38, and 49 of Eren and Female!Depressed!Anxious!Fragile!Reader with PTSD where she had trouble sleeping at night and snuck down to the living room breaking down crying/trembling. Then Eren comes down (wrapped only in a blanket covering his bare body) to see if she’s okay and help her. Then Eren embraces her and have a heart to heart talk with her before they both head back to bed together and sleep? Thanks!
✧ notes. hi there!! i hope this is okay! hope you are okay too ♡
✧ more. modern au + aged up eren
#3 — “you’re everything i could’ve wanted and more.” #12 — “come back to bed, please.” #23 — “hey, look at me. focus on me all right?” #38 — “don’t let go.” #39 — “you’re safe now. i’m here.” #45 — “take my hand. just trust me.” & #49 — “have you been sleeping?” // with eren.
if u know somebody who suffers from ptsd ➔ here is a link on how you could help them.
“come back to bed, please.”
eren turned around, feeling the empty space beside him just when you were heading out the door, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. eren sat up, looking at you as he waited for you to return.
“i... i’ll be back in a minute,” you lied, already making your way out, “i’m just going to a cup a water.”
eren nodded, watching you leave— and that was already a few minutes ago. nearing 10, 15, 20 minutes ago and he finally got up, grabbing a blanket as he made way towards the couch, knowing where you were. he thought that maybe you needed some space, and he gave you that— but he worries about how long you could stay in the dark with a dim lamp as he heard you sob silently, covering your mouth with your hands.
“i’m sorry,” you cried— wiping your tears away as you stayed holed up on the corner of the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest as you felt eren sat by your feet. “i’ll be back in a while— go back.”
“i’m staying,” eren whispered, finding your hand in the dark as he held it between his own. “have you been sleeping?”
“it happened again,” you shook your head, breathing deeply. you raised your head, looking at him, “i don’t know what else to do. i should’ve been fine— i’m fine! why? i just do not get it-!”
“hey,” eren stopped you, searching for your eyes, cupping both of your cheeks as he reached for you. “look at me. focus on me all right? you’re safe now. i’m here. nothing’s going to harm you, i’ll make sure of that.”
“i just feel so... scared,” you mumbled, closing your eyes as you try to block the images— the feeling of being scared, “i don’t even have to be.”
eren nodded, even when you couldn’t see him. he listened to you hold in your sobs— and it pains him so much because he doesn’t know how else to relieve the pain that you are feeling. he wanted to respect the space you are asking, but seeing you like this—.
“take my hand,” eren murmured, placing a kiss on the top of you hands. you looked up at him, sniffling, almost pulling away, “just trust me.”
eren rubbed his hands on yours, bringing them to his mouth as he placed kisses multiple times. you stayed silent for a few minutes as eren breathed with you— placing your hands on his laps as he counted.
“don’t let go,” you whispered so quietly, as you closed your eyes. “i’m sorry for being difficult.”
“you’re not difficult,” eren breathed, pulling you to him as he stroked your back— placing a kiss on the side of your head, holding you tight. “you are everything i could’ve wanted and more— you are not difficult.”
eren grabbed the blanket, covering the both of you together in the dark as he held you close on his chest, rocking you back and forth gently as you cried your tears away. you held on tightly around him, pressing your cheek on his shoulder as you calmed down just a little— breathing as the same as him, pulling yourself back away from your thoughts for a while as you hold on to his words, believing.
#sending smooches & love 2 everybody!#eren yaegar imagines#eren yaeger imagine#eren yeager x reader#aot imagine#aot imagines#snk imagine#snk imagines#attack on titan imagines#attack on titan imagine#aot fanfiction
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A Designer’s 1970s Bells Beach Dream Home!
A Designer’s 1970s Bells Beach Dream Home!
Homes
by Lucy Feagins, Editor
Artwork in the background is ‘Checked Square’ by Jacob Leary. ‘Tufty-Too’ modular sofa from B&B Italia, designed in 2011 by Patrizia Urquiola. 1970s Italian chrome and glass coffee table. 1957 Saarinen ‘Tulip’ side table. Rug from RC&D. Vintage Italian chair in Mongolian wool dyed blue. Recycled French oak coffee table designed and build by Leo. Alfredo Barbini Murano Italian art glass dish. ‘Vesuvius’ lava glaze bowl by Jonhathan Adler. Hand-woven cotton light pendant from Paris au mois d’aout. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
The lush entry foyer. ‘Planula’ dining chairs by Giovanni Carini, 1970. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Interior designer Léo Terrando; and model, actor and a producer Jessica Watts. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Artwork in the background is ‘Checked Square’ by Jacob Leary. ·’Tufty-Too’ modular sofa from B&B Italia, designed in 2011 by Patrizia Urquiola. 1970s Italian chrome and glass coffee table. 1957 Saarinen ‘Tulip’ side table. Rug from RC&D. Vintage Italian chair in Mongolian wool dyed blue. Recycled French oak coffee table designed and build by Leo. Alfredo Barbini Murano Italian art glass dish. ‘Vesuvius’ lava glaze bowl by Jonhathan Adler. Hand-woven cotton light pendant from Paris au mois d’aout. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Artwork is ‘Act 1 Scene 2’ by Deidre Bruhn. 1959 Verner Panton wire cone chair. Mimi Kelly untitled print. Green Gaudi chairs by Vico Magistretti for Artemide, 1970s. ‘Four’ dining table Desk from Kartell designed by Feruccio Laviani. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
1970s Cristalart mirrored console table. Charles and Ray Eames executive table for Hermann Miller with Arabescatto marble top. Limited edition 1974 ‘Monk’ chairs by Afra and Tobia Scarpa for Molteni. 1962 ‘Arco’ floor lamp by Achille and Pier Giacomo Castiglioni for Flos. Zac Koukoravas artwork. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Dulux ‘Milton Moon‘ paint. Charles and Ray Eames executive table for Hermann Miller with Arabescatto marble top. Limited edition 1974 ‘Monk’ chairs by Afra and Tobia Scarpa for Molteni. 1962 ‘Arco’ floor lamp by Achille and Pier Giacomo Castiglioni for Flos. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Volkswagen Kombi 1977. Framed photograph Leo took inside the escalator of the Centre George Pompidou in Paris beside his surfboards. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Kartell ‘Ghost stools. Mayday lamps by Kanstantin Grcic for Flos. Dulux Klute, Dulux Luck and Dulux Vivid White paints. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Danish high sideboard. 1970s Italian table lamp. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Early 1900s church pew·. Moroccan rug. ‘TOIO’ floor lamp designed in 1962 by Achille & Pier Giacomo Castiglioni for Flos. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Mid-century Australian credenza that Leo found at the tip. Ceramic from west Germany. Laurana Rame D’arte Italian copper enamel bowl 1960. Mid-century modern Italian ‘Selenova’ table lamp in murano glass. Collection of 1960s clear glass Czech vases. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Java Couple sculptures. 1950s French mirror. Jielde Floor Lamp Loft D 1240 from Flos. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Rug from RC&D. Red lacquered metal frame ‘Vanessa’ bed designed by Tobia Scarpa for Cassina. Chrome and glass Italian coffee table. ‘Brumbury’ table lamp by Luigi Massoni for Guzzini. Original ‘Mushroom’ armchair by Pierre Paulin for Artifort. Artwork ‘Difficult Pleasure’ by Brett Ferry. Cedar cladding on walls. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Jess with the couple’s dog, Button. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Jess, Léo and Button! Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
The awe-inspiring view out to Bells Beach. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
It really feels like we are living in the middle of the forest,’ says Léo. Photo – Nikole Ramsay for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.
Interior designer Léo Terrando purchased this incredible Bells Beach house (on Victoria’s Surf Coast) 10 years ago, which he shares with partner Jessica Watts.
Believed to have been designed by acclaimed architect Kevin Borland in 1975, the house is characterised by vaulted timber ceilings that bring warmth and a distinctly eclectic character to its otherwise beachy feel.
‘The structural timber is entirely exposed and it follows the origami shape of the house, which means that the lighting – either natural or artificial – creates so many different contrasts and shadows,’ Léo says.
Léo was taken with the property’s unique design, as well as its awe-inspiring location set back from famous Bells Beach. ‘I love the fact that the house is away from everything,’ he says. ‘Being able to see the ocean from the house as well as hearing all the birds living in the area is truly magical.’
Not interested in stripping the home of its original character, Léo has undertaken only modest renovations over the past decade. ‘Internally I removed some walls in the upstairs bedroom and got rid of the carpet,’ he says.’
Other updates have been cosmetic only, such as updating the lighting fixtures throughout the home. ‘The lighting is so important for me, I have brought in so many different styles and types of lights, lamps, shades, from all different designers and eras,’ Léo says.
The home has also been painted inside and out, in colours including Dulux Milton Moon (in the living and dining room) with Dulux Klute, Dulux Luck and Dulux Vivid White in the kitchen and skirtings throughout.
The house has been a challenge to furnish due to its many windows – over 50 in total! To overcome this, and to balance out the extensive timber panelling, Léo has styled the space with an eclectic mix of free-standing furniture, and large indoor plants. Most of the furniture and accessories are 1960s and ‘70s Italian pieces, and alongside these are personal items that show off the couple’s personality, such as surfboards and bold, abstract artwork.
Overall this home feels effortlessly cool, relaxed and unpretentious – just like its Bells Beach location. Léo says, ‘Waking up to kangaroos, wallabies, wombats, and echidnas… It really feels like we are living in the middle of the forest.’ Living the dream!
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chapter 10
paragraph xvi
Gyuri left us out in the Sixties, not far at all from the Barbours’. “This is the place?” I said, shaking the rain off Hobie’s umbrella. We were out in front of one of the big limestone townhouses off Fifth—black iron doors, massive lion’s-head knockers.
“Yes—it’s his father’s place—his other family are trying to get him out legally but good luck with that, hah.”
We were buzzed in, took a cage elevator up to the second floor. I could smell incense, weed, spaghetti sauce cooking. A lanky blonde woman—shortcropped hair and a serene small-eyed face like a camel’s—opened the door. She was dressed like a sort of old-fashioned street urchin or newsboy: houndstooth trousers, ankle boots, dirty thermal shirt, suspenders. Perched on the tip of her nose were a pair of wire-rimmed Ben Franklin glasses.
Without saying a word she opened the door to us and walked off, leaving us alone in a dim, grimy, ballroom-sized salon which was like a derelict version of some high-society set from a Fred Astaire movie: high ceilings; crumbling plaster; grand piano; darkened chandelier with half the crystals broken or gone; sweeping Hollywood staircase littered with cigarette butts. Sufi chants droned low in the background: Allāhu Allāhu Allāhu Haqq. Allāhu Allāhu Allāhu Haqq. Someone had drawn on the wall, in charcoal, a series of life-sized nudes ascending the stairs like frames in a film; and there was very little furniture apart from a ratty futon and some chairs and tables that looked scavenged from the street. Empty picture frames on the wall, a ram’s skull. On the television, an animated film flickered and sputtered with epileptic vim, windmilling geometrics intercut with letters and live-action racecar images. Apart from that, and the door where the blonde had disappeared, the only light came from a lamp which threw a sharp white circle on melted candles, computer cables, empty beer bottles and butane cans, oil pastels boxed and loose, many catalogues raisonnés, books in German and English including Nabokov’s Despair and Heidegger’s Being and Time with the cover torn off, sketch books, art books, ashtrays and burnt tinfoil, and a grubby-looking pillow where drowsed a gray tabby cat. Over the door, like a trophy from some Schwarzwald hunting lodge, a rack of antlers cast distorted shadows that spread and branched across the ceiling with a Nordic, wicked, fairy-tale feel.
Conversation in the next room. The windows were shrouded with tacked-up bedsheets just thin enough to let in a diffuse violet glow from the street. As I looked around, forms emerged from the dark and transformed with a dream strangeness: for one thing, the makeshift room divider—consisting of a carpet sagging tenement-style from the ceiling on fishing line—was on closer look a tapestry and a good one too, eighteenth century or older, the near twin of an Amiens I’d seen at auction with an estimate of forty thousand pounds. And not all the frames on the wall were empty. Some had paintings in them, and one of them—even in the poor light—looked like a Corot.
I was just about to step over for a look when a man who could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty appeared in the door: worn-looking, rangy, with straight sandy hair combed back from his face, in black punk jeans out at the knee and a grungy British commando sweater with an ill-fitting suit jacket over it.
“Hello,” he said to me, quiet British voice with a faint German bite, “you must be Potter,” and then, to Boris: “Glad you turned up. You two should stay and hang out. Candy and Niall are making dinner with Ulrika.”
Movement behind the tapestry, at my feet, that made me step back quickly: swaddled shapes on the floor, sleeping bags, a homeless smell.
“Thanks, we can’t stay,” said Boris, who had picked up the cat and was scratching it behind the ears. “Have some of that wine though, thanks.”
Without a word Horst passed his own glass over to Boris and then called into the next room in German. To me, he said: “You’re a dealer, right?” In the glow of the television his pale pinned gull’s eye shone hard and unblinking.
“Right,” I said uneasily; and then: “Uh, thanks.” Another woman—bobhaired and brunette, high black boots, skirt just short enough to show the black cat tattooed on one milky thigh—had appeared with a bottle and two glasses: one for Horst, one for me.
“Danke darling,” said Horst. To Boris he said: “You gentlemen want to do up?”
“Not right now,” said Boris, who had leaned forward to steal a kiss from the dark-haired woman as she was leaving. “Was wondering though. What do you hear from Sascha?”
“Sascha—” Horst sank down on the futon and lit a cigarette. With his ripped jeans and combat boots he was like a scuffed-up version of some below-the-title Hollywood character actor from the 1940s, some minor mitteleuropäischer known for playing tragic violinists and weary, cultivated refugees. “Ireland is where it seems to lead. Good news if you ask me.”
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“Nor to me, but I’ve talked to people and so far it checks out.” He spoke with all a junkie’s arrhythmic quiet, off-beat, but without the slur. “So—soon we should know more, I hope.”
“Friends of Niall’s?”
“No. Niall says he never heard of them. But it’s a start.”
The wine was bad: supermarket Syrah. Because I did not want to be anywhere near the bodies on the floor I drifted over to inspect a group of artists’ casts on a beat-up table: a male torso; a draped Venus leaning against a rock; a sandaled foot. In the poor light they looked like the ordinary plaster casts for sale at Pearl Paint—studio pieces for students to sketch from—but when I drew my finger across the top of the foot I felt the suppleness of marble, silky and grainless.
“Why would they go to Ireland with it?” Boris was saying restlessly. “What kind of collectors’ market? I thought everyone tries to get pieces out of there, not in.”
“Yes, but Sascha thinks he used the picture to clear a debt.”
“So the guy has ties there?”
“Evidently.”
“I find this difficult to believe.”
“What, about the ties?”
“No, about the debt. This guy—he looks like he was stealing hubcaps off the street six months ago. “
Horst shrugged, faintly: sleepy eyes, seamed forehead. “Who knows. Not sure that’s correct but certainly I’m not willing to trust to luck. Would I let my hand be cut off for it?” he said, lazily tapping an ash on the floor. “No.”
Boris frowned into his wine glass. “He was amateur. Believe me. If you saw him yourself you would know.”
“Yes but he likes to gamble, Sascha says.”
“You don’t think Sascha maybe knows more?”
“I think not.” There was a remoteness in his manner, as if he was talking half to himself. “ ‘Wait and see.’ This is what I hear. An unsatisfactory answer. Stinking from the top if you ask me. But as I say, we are not to the bottom of this yet.”
“And when does Sascha get back to the city?” The half-light in the room sent me straight back to childhood, Vegas, like the obscure mood of a dream lingering after sleep: haze of cigarette smoke, dirty clothes on the floor, Boris’s face white then blue in the flicker of the screen.
“Next week. I’ll give you a ring. You can talk to him yourself then.”
“Yes. But I think we should talk to him together.”
“Yes. I think so too. We’ll both be smarter, in future… this need not have happened… but in any case,” said Horst, who was scratching his neck slowly, absent-mindedly, “you understand I’m wary of pushing him too hard.”
“That is very convenient for Sascha.”
“You have suspicions. Tell me.”
“I think—” Boris cut his eyes at the doorway.
“Yes?”
“I think—” Boris lowered his voice—“you are being too easy on him. Yes yes—” putting up his hands—“I know. But—all very convenient for his guy to vanish, not a clue, he knows nothing!”
“Well, maybe,” Horst said. He seemed disconnected and partly elsewhere, like an adult in the room with small children. “This is pressing on me—on all of us. I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you. Though for all we know his guy was a cop.”
“No,” said Boris resolutely. “He was not. He was not. I know it.”
“Well—to be quite frank with you, I do not think so either, there is more to this than we yet know. Still, I’m hopeful.” He’d taken a wooden box from the drafting table and was poking around in it. “Sure you gentlemen wouldn’t like to get into a little something?”
I looked away. I would have liked nothing better. I would also have liked to see the Corot except I didn’t want to walk around the bodies on the floor to do it. Across the room, I’d noticed several other paintings propped on the wainscoting: a still life, a couple of small landscapes.
“Go look, if you want.” It was Horst. “The Lépine is fake. But the Claesz and the Berchem are for sale if you’re interested.”
Boris laughed and reached for one of Horst’s cigarettes. “He’s not in the market.”
“No?” said Horst genially. “I can give him a good price on the pair. The seller needs to get rid of them.”
I stepped in to look: still life, candle and half-empty wineglass. “Claesz-Heda?”
“No—Pieter. Although—” Horst put the box aside, then stood beside me and lifted the desk lamp on the cord, washing both paintings in a harsh, formal glare—“this bit—” traced mid-air with the curve of a finger—“the reflection of the flame here? and the edge of the table, the drapery? Could almost be Heda on a bad day.”
“Beautiful piece.”
“Yes. Beautiful of its type.” Up close he smelled unwashed and raunchy, with a strong, dusty import-shop odor like the inside of a Chinese box. “A bit prosaic to the modern taste. The classicizing manner. Much too staged. Still, the Berchem is very good.”
“Lot of fake Berchems out there,” I said neutrally.
“Yes—” the light from the upheld lamp on the landscape painting was bluish, eerie—“but this is lovely… Italy, 1655‥… the ochres beautiful, no? The Claesz not so good I think, very early, though the provenance is impeccable on both. Would be nice to keep them together… they have never been apart, these two. Father and son. Came down together in an old Dutch family, ended up in Austria after the war. Pieter Claesz…” Horst held the light higher. “Claesz was so uneven, honestly. Wonderful technique, wonderful surface, but something a bit off with this one, don’t you agree? The composition doesn’t hold together. Incoherent somehow. Also—” indicating with the flat of his thumb the too-bright shine coming off the canvas: overly varnished.
“I agree. And here—” tracing midair the ugly arc where an over-eager cleaning had scrubbed the paint down to the scumbling.
“Yes.” His answering look was amiable and drowsy. “Quite correct. Acetone. Whoever did that should be shot. And yet a mid-level painting like this, in poor condition—even an anonymous work—is worth more than a masterpiece, that’s the irony of it, worth more to me, anyway. Landscapes particularly. Very very easy to sell. Not too much attention from the authorities… difficult to recognize from a description… and still worth maybe a couple hundred thousand. Now, the Fabritius—” long, relaxed pause—“a different calibre altogether. The most remarkable work that’s ever passed through my hands, and I can say that without question.”
“Yes, and that is why we would like so much to get it back,” grumbled Boris from the shadows.
“Completely extraordinary,” continued Horst serenely. “A still life like this one—” he indicated the Claesz, with a slow wave (black-rimmed fingernails, scarred venous network on the back of his hand)—“well, so insistently a trompe l’oeil. Great technical skill, but overly refined. Obsessive exactitude. There’s a deathlike quality. A very good reason they are called natures mortes, yes? But the Fabritius…”—loose-kneed back-step—“I know the theory of The Goldfinch, I’m well familiar with it, people call it trompe l’oeil and indeed it can strike the eye that way from afar. But I don’t care what the art historians say. True: there are passages worked like a trompe l’oeil… the wall and the perch, gleam of light on brass, and then… the feathered breast, most creaturely. Fluff and down. Soft, soft. Claesz would carry that finish and exactitude down to the death—a painter like van Hoogstraten would carry it even farther, to the last nail of the coffin. But Fabritius… he’s making a pun on the genre… a masterly riposte to the whole idea of trompe l’oeil… because in other passages of the work—the head? the wing?—not creaturely or literal in the slightest, he takes the image apart very deliberately to show us how he painted it. Daubs and patches, very shaped and hand-worked, the neckline especially, a solid piece of paint, very abstract. Which is what makes him a genius less of his time than our own. There’s a doubleness. You see the mark, you see the paint for the paint, and also the living bird.”
“Yes, well,” growled Boris, in the dark beyond the spotlight, snapping his cigarette lighter shut, “if no paint, would be nothing to see.”
“Precisely.” Horst turned, his face cut by shadow. “It’s a joke, the Fabritius. It has a joke at its heart. And that’s what all the very greatest masters do. Rembrandt. Velázquez. Late Titian. They make jokes. They amuse themselves. They build up the illusion, the trick—but, step closer? it falls apart into brushstrokes. Abstract, unearthly. A different and much deeper sort of beauty altogether. The thing and yet not the thing. I should say that that one tiny painting puts Fabritius in the rank of the greatest painters who ever lived. And with The Goldfinch? He performs his miracle in such a bijou space. Although I admit, I was surprised—” turning to look at me—“when I held it in my hands the first time? The weight of it?”
“Yes—” I couldn’t help feeling gratified, obscurely, that he’d noted this detail, oddly important to me, with its own network of childhood dreams and associations, an emotional chord—“the board is thicker than you’d think. There’s a heft to it.”
“Heft. Quite. The very word. And the background—much less yellow than when I saw it as a boy. The painting underwent a cleaning—early nineties I believe. Post-conservation, there’s more light.”
“Hard to say. I’ve got nothing to compare it to.”
“Well,” said Horst. The smoke from Boris’s cigarette, threading in from the dark where he sat, gave the floodlit circle where we stood the midnight feel of a cabaret stage. “I may be wrong. I was a boy of twelve or so when I saw it for the first time.”
“Yes, I was about that age when I first saw it too.”
“Well,” said Horst, with resignation, scratching an eyebrow—dime-sized bruises on the backs of his hands—“that was the only time my father ever took me with him on a business trip, that time at The Hague. Ice cold boardrooms. Not a leaf stirring. On our afternoon I wanted to go to Drievliet, the fun park, but he took me to the Mauritshuis instead. And—great museum, many great paintings, but the only painting I remember seeing is your finch. A painting that appeals to a child, yes? Der Distelfink. That is how I knew it first, by its German name.”
“Yah, yah, yah,” said Boris from the darkness, in a bored voice. “This is like the education channel on the television.”
“Do you deal any modern art at all?” I said, in the silence that followed.
“Well—” Horst fixed me with his drained, wintry eye; deal wasn’t quite the correct verb, he seemed amused at my choice of words—“sometimes. Had a Kurt Schwitters not long ago—Stanton Macdonald-Wright—do you know him? Lovely painter. It depends a lot what comes my way. Quite honestly— do you ever deal in paintings at all?”
“Very seldom. The art dealers get there before I do.”
“That is unfortunate. Portable is what matters in my business. There are a lot of mid-level pieces I could sell on the clean if I had paper that looked good.”
Spit of garlic; pans clashing in the kitchen; faint Moroccan-souk drift of urine and incense. On and on flatlining, the Sufi drone, wafting and spiraling around us in the dark, ceaseless chants to the Divine.
“Or this Lépine. Quite a good forgery. There’s this fellow—Canadian, quite amusing, you’d like him—does them to order. Pollocks, Modiglianis— happy to introduce you, if you’d like. Not much money in them for me, although there’s a fortune to be made if one of them turned up in just the right estate.” Then, smoothly, in the silence that followed: “Of older works I see a lot of Italian, but my preferences—they incline to the North as you can see. Now—this Berchem is a very fine example for what it is but of course these Italianate landscapes with the broken columns and the simple milkmaids don’t so much suit the modern taste, do they? I much prefer the van Goyen there. Sadly not for sale.”
“Van Goyen? I would have sworn that was a Corot.”
“From here, yes, you might.” He was pleased at the comparison. “Very similar painters—Vincent himself remarked it—you know that letter? ‘The Corot of the Dutch’? Same tenderness of mist, that openness in fog, do you know what I mean?”
“Where—” I’d been about to ask the typical dealer’s question, where did you get it, before catching myself.
“Marvelous painter. Very prolific. And this is a particularly beautiful example,” he said, with all a collector’s pride. “Many amusing details up close—tiny hunter, barking dog. Also—quite typical—signed on the stern of the boat. Quite charming. If you don’t mind—” indicating, with a nod, the bodies behind the tapestry. “Go over. You won’t disturb them.”
“No, but—”
“No—” holding up a hand—“I understand perfectly. Shall I bring it to you?”
“Yes, I’d love to see it.”
“I must say, I’ve grown so fond of it, I’ll hate to see it go. He dealt paintings himself, van Goyen. A lot of the Dutch masters did. Jan Steen. Vermeer. Rembrandt. But Jan van Goyen—” he smiled—“was like our friend Boris here. A hand in everything. Paintings, real estate, tulip futures.”
Boris, in the dark, made a disgruntled noise at this and seemed about to say something when all of a sudden a scrawny wild-haired boy of maybe twenty-two, with an old fashioned mercury thermometer sticking out of his mouth, came lurching out of the kitchen, shielding his eyes with his hand against the upheld lamp. He was wearing a weird, womanish, chunky knit cardigan that came almost to his knees like a bathrobe; he looked ill and disoriented, his sleeve was up, he was rubbing the inside of his forearm with two fingers and then the next thing I knew his knees went sideways and he’d hit the floor, the thermometer skittering out with a glassy noise on the parquet, unbroken.
“What…?” said Boris, stabbing out his cigarette, standing up, the cat darting from his lap into the shadows. Horst—frowning—set the lamp on the floor, light swinging crazily on walls and ceiling. “Ach,” he said fretfully, brushing the hair from his eyes, dropping to his knees to look the young man over. “Get back,” he said in an annoyed voice to the women who had appeared in the door, along with a cold, dark-haired, attentive-looking bruiser and a couple of glassy prep-school boys, no more than sixteen—and then, when they all still stood staring—flicked out a hand. “In the kitchen with you! Ulrika,” he said to the blonde, “halt sie zurück.”
The tapestry was stirring; behind it, blanket-wrapped huddles, sleepy voices: eh? was ist los?
“Ruhe, schlaft weiter,” called the blonde, before turning to Horst and beginning to speak urgently in rapid-fire German.
Yawns; groans; farther back, a bundle sitting up, groggy American whine: “Huh? Klaus? What’d she say?”
“Shut up baby and go back schlafen.”
Boris had picked up his coat and was shouldering it on. “Potter,” he said and then again, when I did not answer, staring horrified at the floor, where the boy was breathing in gurgles: “Potter.” Catching my arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Yes, sorry. We’ll have to talk later. Schiesse,” said Horst regretfully, shaking the boy’s limp shoulder, with the tone of a parent making a not-particularly-convincing show of scolding a child. “Dummer Wichser! Dummkopf! How much did he take, Niall?” he said to the bruiser who had reappeared in the door and was looking on with a critical eye.
“Fuck if I know,” said the Irishman, with an ominous sideways pop of his head.
“Come on, Potter,” said Boris, catching my arm. Horst had his ear to the boy’s chest and the blonde, who had returned, had dropped to her knees beside him and was checking his airway.
As they consulted urgently in German, more noise and movement behind the Amiens, which billowed out suddenly: faded blossoms, a fête champêtre, prodigal nymphs disporting themselves amidst fountain and vine. I was staring at a satyr peeping at them slyly from behind a tree when, unexpectedly —something against my leg—I started back violently as a hand swiped from underneath and clutched my trouser cuff. From the floor, one of the dirty bundles—swollen red face just visible from under the tapestry—inquired of me in a sleepy gallant voice: “He’s a margrave, my dear, did you know that?”
I pulled my trouser leg free and stepped back. The boy on the floor was rolling his head a bit and making sounds like he was drowning.
“Potter.” Boris had gathered up my coat and was practically stuffing it in my face. “Come on! Let’s go! Ciao,” he called into the kitchen with a lift of his chin (pretty dark head appearing in the doorway, a fluttering hand: bye, Boris! Bye!) as he pushed me ahead of him and ducked behind me out the door. “Ciao, Horst!” he said, making a call me later gesture, hand to ear.
“Tschau Boris! Sorry about this! We’ll talk soon! Up,” said Horst, as the Irishman came up and grabbed the boy’s other arm from underneath; together they hoisted him up, feet limp and toes dragging and—amidst hurried activity in the doorway, the two young teenagers scrambling back in alarm—hauled him into the lighted doorway of the next room, where Boris’s brunette was drawing up a syringe of something from a tiny glass bottle.
#boreo#the goldfinch#the goldfinch donna tart#donna tart#boris pavlikovsky#theodore decker#theo decker#boris x theo#theo x boris#finn wolfhard#ansel elgort#oakes fegley#aneurin barnard#the goldfinch book#book#books#quote#quotes#lgbtq#lgbtqia#lgbtqia+#lgbt#gay#gay ship#gay ships#otp#mlm#the goldfinch quotes#the goldfinch quote#boreo quotes
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Curtains Vs Blinds
How To Black Out A Room.
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Content
Bright Green Roller Blind.
Roller Blinds For Bay Windows.
Browse Our Gallery Of Day & Night Blinds
Blinds And Curtains
Plain Straight Roller Blinds Top Quality Made To Measure Up To 240cm X 210cm.
Our Ranges Of Made.
Pewter Rock Roller Blind.
Bright Eco-Friendly Roller Blind.
What blinds are best for privacy?
If you have blinds the normal thing to do is to open them during the day and close them at night. Whether or not you happen to be home or not is irrelevant.
Whether wood, PVC, mirrored or synthetic timber, when shut, shutters are essentially little doors, so will completely block out all light that gets in an area, supplying full privacy whenever needed. So, explore various colours to match the interior decoration you're going for.
Should you leave your curtains open or closed when away?
Curtains can give a sense of warmth and coziness to a room. The fabric of curtains also acts as a sound buffer to quieten a room. Blinds, on the other hand, make a room seem larger because they are less intrusive, folding out of the way more easily.
Roller Blinds For Bay Windows.
These blackout drapes are made from one hundred percent Belgian flax bed linen that has a classic appearance. They feature a polyester blackout lining, as well as there are 3 hanging alternatives-- post pocket, hanging loops, or rings. They're made with an enzyme laundry that offers the textile a worn-in look, so they need to be completely dry cleansed if they ever get dirty. The transition from sleep time to wakefulness is physiologically really stressful on the body, so you're never ever going to be all that buoyant first point in the early morning. To wake up at your freshest, awakening seven to eight hrs after falling asleep is ideal.
Browse Our Gallery Of Day & Night Blinds
You can hang them up by means of the rod pocket, as well as they can be maker washed and dried out for simple care. Something to note is that the gold as well as silver choices don't have metallic polka dots-- they're a lot more bronze and grey. These panels are made from a cotton-linen mix, as well as the material is tightly woven to give it a soft feel and also boosted sturdiness.
One more best exampleof how to shut out light from bedroom window or any type of various other roominvolves the use of privacy film. Attempt covering the home window glass with aluminum foil if you want an alternative that keeps the light out and also cuts your power expenses.
At Way of life Blinds, we have a large choice of colours readily available online. Check out our Going To Bed White, Going To Bed Shocking Pink and also Bedtime Black alternatives here today. Functionality plays just as much of a role as style when it comes to dressing your home. Besides, having the most beautiful space on the planet will not add up to much if it can't be made use of for the wanted function.
These drapes are thinner and lighter than the other kinds and also may be made with loosely woven fabric which permits light to come via. Light filtering system curtains enable you to fill up an area with a cozy, relaxing glow, as well as you can still see without the requirement for lamps or other lights. Because you can not see through blackout curtains in any way, they enhance personal privacy far better than various other drape kinds. Also if motorized window treatments aren't in your budget, you can streamline the look as well as feature of your blinds with cordless lifts. Sunlight makes our areas look brilliant and makes you healthy.
Any much less or any more and also you run the risk of interrupting either phase of rest. Leaving your blinds or curtains a little open will additionally help suppress melatonin manufacturing, assisting you to withstand 10-minute snoozes.
Skylights and roller blinds make perfect companions, enabling you to manage the light and collaborate your design on every home window in your house.
We have actually also obtained some design exclusives from brands such as Orla Kiely, Successor Living and also MissPrint as well as our own in-house roller blinds breaking with modern design.
For the perfect fit on a criterion home window, gauge the full recess of your home window.
Do not be lured to eliminate any dimension of size from either to make up fittings - we will do this for you.
Measuring as well as installing roller blinds is reasonably simple depending upon the sort of home window your blinds will certainly being in.
Blinds As Well As Curtains
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Are day and night blinds easy to clean?
Command Hooks
Command hooks are a super popular way to hang no-hole curtain rods (see this article and this tutorial post from the Happier Homemaker). They can also work for hanging your blackout shades. Simply put a hook on each side of your window (and an additional one in the middle for extra support).
There's no refuting that this is more vital in certain areas than others. For example, room blinds play a crucial duty in the high quality as well as health and wellness of our rest. As a result they influence the income of everybody in your family. And, when it pertains to finding the ideal blinds for your room, it aids to comprehend all the alternatives out there. You also require to understand precisely what you're wanting to attain.
However when it ends up being way too much, the light can disturb your rest pattern and make you feel uneasy. Apart from using home window blinds, you can try various things to resolve this trouble. Do you need the most effective means to blackout home windows for resting?
Zonwering Made To Measure Up To 240cm X 210cm.
Because these drapes are typically lightweight, they do not block noise or insulate a space as well as blackout and space darkening drapes. Light filtering system drapes do not block light, which might make them improper for rooms or house cinemas. Light filtering system drapes allow the most amount of light into an area contrasted to blackout and room darkening curtains.
Our Ranges Of Made.
For babies and also children specifically, the least rise in lighting can cause disrupted nights and complication between night and day. Skylight blinds are the only design that will entirely eliminate this. Nonetheless, you can minimize light seeping in by making sure your blinds supply the most effective fit feasible. Once again, these blinds resemble their roller blind counterparts in that they can be found in a series of various colours as well as patterns. The custom-made fabric layering makes sure that lighter colours can still attain the very same light control as darker alternatives.
In today's blog, we'll be discussing the various types of bedroom blinds as well as which ones help contribute to the very best evening's rest. Colors and fabric In spite of the name, blackout drapes come in a wide range of shades-- consisting of white. Polyester as well as various other synthetic products are generally a lot more budget pleasant than bed linen or cotton. Installation To see to it that blackout drapes work correctly, determine a couple of inches beyond the home window framework and make use of a wraparound rod. The textile of these curtains is made from a polyester-cotton blend, and also reviewers say they do a sensational job straining daytime.
Pewter Rock Roller Blind.
Plus, the fabric is treated with ecologically safe dyes, so you do not have to fret about damaging chemicals in the baby room. The curtains are then completed with a polyester cellular lining that blocks out any kind of traces of light. What's distinct regarding these drapes is that they have a 3-in-1 hanging method-- you can choose to hang them by means of loopholes, drape hooks, or post pockets. The only drawback is that the curtains require to be completely dry cleansed to keep their honesty.
#Zonwering#zonwering op maat#zonwering Haarlem#zonwering Bloemendaal#zonwering rolgordijnen#zonwering ramen#zonwering prijzen#zonwering binnen#zonwering overkapping#zonwering buiten#zonweringen#jaloezieen#jaloezieen op maat#houten jaloezieen#horizontale jaloezieen#jaloezieen hout#houten jaloezieen wit#aluminium jaloezieen op maat#aluminium jaloezieen#houten lamellen#rolgordijnen#rolgordijnen verduisterend#duo rolgordijnen op maat#dag en nacht rolgordijnen#goedkope rolgordijnen#elektrische rolgordijnen#opmeten rolgordijnen#rolgordijn
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Daeul
Preview / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / bonus
Chapter 6
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You sure you didn't forget anything?
She read the text from Minji who worried her sister may have left behind some of her belongings. It was Monday morning, the day she would move into the estate and with a heavy heart she dragged her plain black suitcase from the bus stop.
Minji had a difficult time understanding why her sister had to leave home and had also forgotten that the job was live-in. They both decided that with one less sister at home, it was better that Minji move into Hanji's and put up her own apartment for rent.
Her older sister packed her bags for her, folding her favourite pieces of clothing and leaving the difficult things like skincare and makeup for Hanji, herself.
I'm not gone forever, Minji. Besides if I forget anything, it's only a half-hour drive :)
It's true, Hyuk had granted her permission to return home every weekend if she wanted to and she very much liked the offer as she would get to see her sister.
Tucking her phone away into the pocket of her long mid-calf skirt which was coloured a pale blue, a colour she learned was one of Daeul's favourites -- the others being green and red. She arrived at the gate where one of the drivers, perhaps twice her age, was waiting, and waved her hand in the air.
"삼촌/samcheon/uncle!", she called out with a beaming smile on her face. They older man jogged toward her and opened the door, smiling widely as he took her luggage from her and carried it into the house.
Suddenly, she heard the familiar sound of small feet pitter-pattering against the tiled floor and instantly knew who it was.
"Hanji!", she heard Daeul's small yet raspy voice call out to her, making her turn around to see him still dressed in his pajamas running to her with open arms.
"Good morning, buddy!", she laughed and held back from lifting him up to carry the boy in his arms. Instead, she patted his head as he tugged on her skirt and clung next to her. Taking the suitcase from the older man, she uttered multiple thank you's before walking inside with Daeul.
"Why're you up so early, huh?", she teased.
Missus Chae had entered the living room dressed in the same satin and grey outfit she always wore. "He heard you're coming early, today."
Hanji smiled warmly, looking toward the small boy next to her who covered his face in embarrassment. "Is that right, Daeul?"
"Daeul, why don't you show Hanji her room? Maybe you can help her unpack after breakfast.", the older woman suggested, grinning toward the boy. He proceeded to dragging her by the skirt toward the bottom of the staircase. She carefully dragged her luggage behind her, watching out for his little toes which she tried to avoid stepping on.
The older housekeeper had told her to leave her items downstairs for someone else would come to claim them and place them in her room in the evening, so Daeul ascended the stairs as fast as he could but took two steps per level due to his short strides.
When they had reached the top, he ran toward the pale white door at the end of the corridor and pushed it open with Hanji trailing right behind him.
The first thing she saw was the clock on the wall which was decorated with Roman numerals. It was large and beige, its numbers painted brown. On the adjacent wall rested a bed perhaps the same size as hers at home, only this one was plain white and not pastel pink and instead of one pillow it had three.
The walls were a creme beige colour, welcoming her with a warm and homey feeling which eased her nerves upon moving in.
"Does it fit to your accommodations?", Missus Chae asked with Daeul holding a small smile of anticipation on his face.
"Y-Yes! Yes, Missus Chae it's l-lovely.", she reassured, taking a step in and observing the features including a mahogany nightstand table and a matching closet.
"Missus Chae, is your room on this floor as well?", she asked in curiosity. The older woman shook her head, grinning. "Oh, mine's downstairs along with a few of the other housekeepers."
Hanji tilted her head, wondering why she who was not that different from Missus Chae and the other members, had a room on the second floor while they rested downstairs. Perhaps it was another rule needed to be close to Daeul much like the table one.
"Alright, I'll be prepping breakfast if you need me. Make yourself at home, Hanji.", the elder said with a grin before exiting the room and proceeding down the stairs.
Hanji looked toward Daeul who had already found his way onto the large bed, sprawling his limbs across the fresh white sheets with a smile on his face.
"Look at you! Will you sleep here, Daeul?", she teased as she sat next to him cupping his face and cooing at his giggles.
~
She spent her day like all the others -- breakfast and reading in the morning, lunch, drawing and physical activity in the afternoon. Daeul enjoyed music and oftentimes danced to the songs on Hanji's playlist, which was compiled of modern day pop and a few songs dating back to the 50's like Elvis Presley and the entire Back to the Future soundtrack.
By the time it was past six in the evening, she had forgotten that at that time she would probably have been home already. Daeul was to take his bath before bedtime which was eight in the evening, and it certainly took a while for the boy to wind down hence why they made bath-time early.
"Daeul, come! Let's have your bath now.", Hanji called from the bathroom on the second floor, already running the lukewarm water and foaming up the bubbles in the one foot level water.
Suddenly, the said boy came running into the bathroom butt-naked, laughing from the top of his lungs and throwing himself into Hanji's arms.
"Why are you --"
"S-Sorry, Hanji! He managed to strip himself, already.", one of the younger male housekeepers explained, catching his breath at the doorway. She laughed loudly, throwing her head back while embracing the boy in her arms.
"Alright, let's get you cleaned up."
If only she had known he was the most hyper during bath-time, she wouldn't have worn such a nice skirt while bathing him. By the end of the twenty minutes, the bathroom floor was covered in bubbles and puddles of water which she knew she would have to clean up later.
She wrapped him up in a towel and changed his diaper, patting some baby lotion and powder onto his neck and chest before changing him into a pair of teddy bear pajamas. Laying him down in his small bed, she turned on the nightstand lamp and sat next to him in bed.
"You wanna read, Daeul?", she offered as she pulled up a picture book and rested it between their laps. It was a new book they hadn't read yet -- about a pair of siblings who wander off in the city after their parents ask them to buy a list of vegetables -- a carrot, two stalks of celery and one large broccoli bunch.
By the time the siblings had picked up the celery, Daeul's eyelids had already became heavy and shut completely. He breathed and snored lightly, letting Hanji know that it was time to place the book down, turn the lamp off and switch it with his rocket ship-shaped nightlight.
She slid off the bed and tucked him in his duvet before slowly creeping out of the room and softly shutting the door behind her.
--
Fun Story Fact #6:
The team in the house is composed of seven with Missus Chae being the head of housekeeping with four others, two of which alternate on cooking duty, and two drivers.
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<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>
1.2.3 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1st 2:10 AM
Haddonfield, Illinois
As the Tate family continued eastward through Missouri in the rain, Officer J.T. Swain pulled his police cruiser into the parking lot of the Warren County Sherrif's Office. Swain jerked the hood of his rain slicker up, took a long and shaking breath, and braced himself for the deluge from above as he gripped his door handle. He quickly exited, shutting the door with his hip, and sprinted toward the doors, kicking up large splashes as he sloshed through the puddles in the parking lot---a parking lot that had been empty a few hours before when Samantha Nguyen had entered it.
It was now full.
His fellow officer, and friend, Greg Mullenix, met him at the front entrance, and held the door open for him as he stepped inside. “Where the hell have you been man?”
Swain threw his hood back, “I had to escort the Tramer's from the police station to the park.”
Mullenix winced as he opened the glass door on the inside annex.
“It was horrible,” Swain continued, “that boy's mom kept crying and crying, and I had to hold an umbrella over her while they ID'd their son.”
Mullenix put a hand on his friend's back. “I'm sorry man.
“What did I miss?” Swain asked as they headed through the lobby, passed the plastic chairs, and to the right of the front counter with it's frosted glass window...still shut. They could hear Officer Williams and another voice, a female voice, talking away from behind the glass. The phone still rang incessantly.
“It's a shit show.” Mullenix replied, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and tapping it to the little white square beside the large metal door that read: AUTHORIZED PERSONELL ONLY. His little plastic keycard inside reacted to the pad and a light at the top of the square went from red to green. He jerked the door open.
A cacophany of voices hit them immediately. The first door on the left gave way to a large conference room. The overlapping conversations were emanating from there. Six or seven Officers sat about the large mahogany table and about the same number stood in various places around the room. As Officer Mullenix and Officer Swain entered the doorway, they were bumped from behind by two other men. Deputy Sheriff Ben Meeker had exited his office from across the hall and pushed through the crowd. He was holding a manilla file folder in his hand. Another man, with a receding hairline and smart black and white business attire, followed him.
“Feds?” J.T. Mouthed to Mullenix as they moved to get out of the way of the two men.
Greg shrugged.
“Alright everyone!” Meeker rose his voice to a level that could be heard over the other conversation. “Everyone shut up!”
The conversations ceased.
“So as you know, Sheriff Brackett is of course in the hospital with his daughter so all operations has been handed over to me.”
He looked around the room, took a deep breath and then said, “Look---I know tonight has been,” he stopped for a moment, looking down at the desk, trying to fight the urge to get emotional. “Well,” he continued, “let's just say it, tonight's been really shitty. I know and you know we're stretched to the breaking point right now as it is, but US Marshals have something else we need to pay attention to, so this is Deputy McGrath out of the Springfield outfit, I need you to give him your full attention.”
The room was dead quiet, save for a solitary cough from the back corner of the room. Meeker switched places with the man who had come in with him. He cleared his throat and when he spoke, a sharp New England accent came through,
“Hello,” he said, pausing for a moment, thinking about what to say. “Deputy Meeker here has been telling me about the clusterfuck of a night you guys have had,” he looked around the room at the tired faces of the officers, “and I want you to know that the last thing I want to do is add to the little shitstorm you guys got going on in this little town tonight, but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to.”
Meeker handed the file folder to the officer next to him, a fat, snow white young looking kid with pink cheeks and frosty blonde curls all over his head. The kid's name was Kip Kinnerly, but all the other guys called him “Doughboy.”
“Kip, look at this and then pass it.”
“Yes sir.” Doughboy replied curtly as he took the folder.
Meeker raised his voice. “I want everyone to take a good look at this!”
The man in the suit cleared his throat again. “As he told you, I am Deputy Mark McGrath from US Marshals, and as most of you have no doubt already heard, we have been hunting two extremely dangerous persons and we believe they may have just arrived in your back yard, that is, in the general area of Warren County.”
“Are you fucking serious?” An Officer who stood in the corner of the room spat. “Are you talking about those two shits from Mississippi?”
“Let's watch the language Spaulding.” Meeker snapped.
“It's alright Sherrif Meeker,” McGrath smiled. “Two little shits are exactly what they are. Their names are Lloyd and Lee Chumway of Biloxi Mississippi. And we are requesting---hell we are begging—for your assistance so we can nab these sonsabitches and at least give y'all a silver lining to this terrible night.”
“Oh fuck.” Officer Malcom Donald breathed as he looked into the file folder. “I thought I'd seen enough of this kind of shit tonight.”
The photograph of the Chumway brothers had reached Mullenix and Swain. They had already seen their faces on the television the days before. Hell, all of America had.
“Someone snap pics of that with their cellphone and text it out to everyone. I want everyone to have those two faces burned in their brains.” Meeker said.
“I got you boss.” Swain replied. He passed the picture back to Mullenix and began to dig in his pocket for his cellphone. “Here, hold this.”
“Who is this chick?” Spaulding asked, taking another pic from Doughboy and handing it to Officer Emrah Lagenbruner next to him who had just squeezed himself into the circle that was forming around the conference room. .
“Whoa,” The young African American officer said upon seeing the picture, “Gonna be a closed casket for sure.”
McGrath pointed to the photograph in his hand.
“Her name was Marina Madden, Lee Chumway's brother...he's the younger of the two. On Thursday afternoon, around 13:30 Central Time, these two upstanding citizens apparently brutally raped this woman, and then pummeled her with a bedside lamp.”
Mullenix took the picture from Lagenbrunner. The aforementioned Marina Madden was sprawled out on burgundy carpet, near the foot of a bed-frame, her lifeless eyes gazing upward at a ceiling that was out of view of the camera. Blood was congealed on the side of her head, a broken bedside lamp lay beside her, a dark spot in the carpet spread out from beside her head. The darkened puddle was flecked with bits of brain matter.
Mullenix passed the picture to Swain.
“Who's this?” Spaulding asked, holding up another picture before passing it to Lagenbruner. “Whoa, hello sexy!” Lagenbruner quipped again upon seeing the picture and passing it to Mullenix. It was a circa 1977 Olan Mills portrait of a woman, wearing a bright floral print dress, cat-eye tinted glasses and a large brown bee-hive hairdo in front of a tacky painted background with a sunset, trees, and ducks. Two young boys in white suits and red ties sat on her knee.
McGrath answered, “That is the mother of these two fine citizens. Melba Jean Chumway. Aparently they grew bored of Miss Madden and decided to drive over to their mommy's house. They beat her to death with a hammer.”
Lagenbruner whistled as he saw the next photo. “Good night,” he breathed as he passed it to his left.
Mullenix's stomach tightened as he saw it. Even though she was face down on a linoleum floor, you could tell it was the same woman. Her dress was different, but an equally as offensive floral print. Her bee-hive was gray now, and a different, more modern pair of glasses lay broken beside her. The side of her head was split open, and old darkened blood was pooled on the tile beside her. Large shoe tracks were printed in blood all around her as well. A blood soaked hammer lay just beyond her elbow.
For not the first time tonight, Mullenix was feeling nauseated. As the wave of sickness washed over him and through him, he closed his eyes, gulped and opened them again to receive another photo. The time, a pretty but a little chunky woman in a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt and camouflage pants was sitting atop a tractor. A field of snowy white cotton gleamed in the background. An older gentleman stood beside the tractor with a cigarette handing out of his mouth and a battered confederate battle-flag hat laying crooked on his head. He wore a simple blue shirt with the words TRUMP in bold white letters, along with the tag-line in red below it: Make America Great Again.
“I'm guessing this one is their engagement photo?” Swain tried to quip as he took the picture from Mullenix. It came out hollow as his voice cracked.
McGrath guestered to him. “They then left for Lloyd's apartment where Lloyd's unfortunate girlfriend Kelly Willis-Ross was living. They nearly decapitated her with a kitchen knife.”
Another grizzly crime photo was passed over. Poor Miss Willis-Ross lay in a bathtub, soaked red. Her head lay disjointed on her shoulders, her chin impossibly almost touching her right breast. Swain felt another surge in his stomach. He tried to focus on something in the picture so that he would appear to be looking at the slide, but not really looking at the carnage itself. His eyes fixed on a blue bottle which sat on the side of the tub next to the unfortunate carcass of Lloyd's now ex-girlfriend. HERBAL ESSENCES CONDITIONER. BLUE RASPBERRY.
“Jesus Christ,” Mullenix breathed.
Swain shot him a glance. His friend and partner's face was caught in a grimace.
“I know,” Swain whispered, “good luck sleeping tonight.”
“I don't think I'm ever going to sleep again,” Mullenix mumbled.
McGrath continued, as more horrific scenes of gore was paraded down the line.
“They then drove to their place of employment: a Papagayos Mexican Restaurant. These two star employees were on the clock for only 53 minutes before they murdered their boss and everyone in the store with kitchen knives. They have been on the run every since.”
“How do we know they're coming here?” Meeker asked, taking a seat on the edge of the conference table.
McGrath answered, “On Thursday night around 20:00, 911 operators at a Southern Star Gas Station near Oxford Mississippi were alerted to a robbery and homicide, and closed circuit cameras in the store captured the Chumway brothers. Two of the men they beat to death inside the store were concealed carry operators who were overwhelmed before they were able to withdraw their weapons. The Chumways stole the weapons and are now considered armed and dangerous....well...more dangerous.”
A few more cops trickled into the conference room from outside, looking pale and cold, shaking off the rain. McGrath paused as they took their place around the room, then continued, “Early Friday morning, around 02:30 we got a bead on to what direction they were heading in when 911 dispatch got word of a robbery at a Dixie Donuts outside Memphis Tennessee. Again surveillance at the location confirmed that the Chumway brothers were perpetrators of the crime. They were tracked to a strip club in the area and then to a motel, but apparently just missed the grasp of Memphis police. Their pursuit was also put off by trick or treating traffic, something I heard you guys had trouble with as well as you were tracking your own psychopath through the town.”
A few of the cops nodded and murmuring in agreement. Agent McGrath paused , rubbing his chin, his eyes clouded over, as if he were lost in his thoughts. After a moment he said, “We have every reason to assume they continued north, and would be entering this vicinity very soon if they continued at their assumed rate of speed. Unfortunately we have no idea what they could be driving now, they keep switching vehicles, but we just need you boys to keep an eye out.”
There was another cough and a few moments of heavy silence. Then Doughboy snapped to attention, his blue eyes wet, and barked: “Sir yes sir.”
The others officers followed suit, but all were less exuberant and most were merely mumbling. Deputy-Sheriff Meeker sat up from the edge of the table and approached Agent McGrath, and placing a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. McGrath gave a half smile, shooting a glance to Meeker and then back to the assembled officers. “Well okay then, we know what to look for, and we'll do our best to nab these sonsabitches.” Meeker extended his hand and McGrath took it.
Officer Mullenix yawned. Officer Ted Mitchum came in to the room with a large WANTED poster of the Chumway brothers. He lifted a stapler and stapled it to the wall next to the whiteboard at the far end of the conference room. Mullenix fixated on their face.
They look so normal, he thought, like just two simple men....two...really normal simple men.
NEXT>>
#halloween#halloween franchise#michael myers#horror#horror writing#fan fiction#fan writing#spooky#haddonfield#horror film
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Top 10 Souvenirs in India
India Travel is a great opportunity for shopping! Exotic souvenirs will be a great reminder of your India Tour.
Bustling bazaars with native handicraft and pottery, and boutiques with brilliant textiles are found in all streets to entice the visitors. Bringing back a small part of India, be it an herb, exotic spices or accessories and apparel are some great ways to preserve the incredible memories you had on your India Tour.
Here is the short list of items most tourist find interesting during their India Travel:
Bangles
Glass or metallic- these pretty accessories around dainty wrists can exponentially increase the glam factor of any trendy outfit. Available in almost every region of India, each state presents its own unique take on the bangles’ design. The vibrant hues and glittering designs are essential part of any Indian bridal apparel or any other traditional outfits. There are also bangles basic designs for every day usage. The subdued jingles of the bangles are common wherever Indian girls or grown women gather. Bangles have been gaining popularity with celebrities all over the world and its is only a matter of time before the fans start following suit.
Jewellery
Another popular souvenir from all regions of India, are the quintessential Jewellery pieces such necklaces and anklets which can be made from gold, bronze, silver or any other suitable metal unique to certain regions. Designs vary from different region of India but their beauty is not compromised. There are parts of India, where there are craftsmen who are skilled in creating unique pieces of these intricately designed Jewellery. Such traditional Jewellery especially from the Rajasthan cities are perennial favorites for all on India Tour Packages.
Incense sticks
India is the land of Hinduism where prayers are everyday affair as well as popular attractions. Using fire, oil lamps and incense sticks are inherent part of most religious rites in India. While the thin scented sticks are commonly placed in front of the statues of the Hindu deities, these sticks are also comonly used as a part of aromatherapy. Scented with sandalwood or some other exotic aromas, these sticks will certainly add a touch of India to any home.
Dried spices
Indian food is all about aromatic spices. Not only do these dried spices add rich flavor to the exotic dishes, the color and aroma enhanced by the spices, cannot be replicated easily. Cumin, fennel, fenugreek, cinnamon and cardamom are some of the members in the huge family of spices, essential to Indian cooking. Among the vast types of spices, saffron is one of the premium spices- costly and luxurious to any dish. Just including a couple of saffron strands can make a significant difference to food from all cuisines. Lovers of Indian cuisine will most certainly bring some spices back with them and enjoy the taste of India long after their India Tours are over.
Sandalwood figurines
Sandalwood is known to be indigenous to Southern India region, especially with Mysore, though there are different species found in few other parts of the world. Sandalwood has multitude of purposes and its distinctive aroma and therapeutic properties makes it a popular beauty product. The wood is also a favourite material for making figurines such as elephants or other handicraft products. Usually such souvenir items are palm-sized yet the aroma from these items can be very potent and durable, perfect for the long haul home and for longer-lasting memories of the your India Tour Packages.
Handicrafts and Artifacts
Metal handicrafts such as stoneware and silverware, utilitarian objects made from brass and artifacts made of marble are easily found throughout India. While the miniature Taj Mahal marble figurine has a permanent place as a top-selling souvenir, the antique artifacts made from bronze, such as tribal animals or religious images and intricate silverware, including candlesticks and decorative receptacles are worthwhile purchases too. Different regions of India have carved their niche in particular craftwork. Owning such native handicrafts is yet another way to preserve memories of India Tours.
Textiles
Even in the most modern and cosmopolitan cities of India, traditional attire such as the saris, Kurta and Salwar-Kameez are common sight. Very much part of the intriguing sights in India, owning such ethnic apparel is certain add an interesting dimension to one’s wardrobe. The gorgeous prints and handiwork on saris and chic designs on Salwar-Kameez or the glamorous lehenga will transform any female into an Indian princess. One can also opt for the ultimate classic clothing for all wardrobes- the pashmina shawls or scarves that will upgrade any simple attire to a more formal look. If donning such outfits is not appealing, there are traditional fabrics such as silk cushion covers and cotton quilts will beautify any room.
Tea
Home to world famous Darjeeling tea and one of the largest tea exporters in the world, India has several tea plantations as part of its diverse landscape. Picking up a box or an assortment of flavoured tea will be irresistible to any tea lover. Purchasing one’s preferred tea can be done during a tour to the tea plantations that give additional boost to India Tourism as one of very popular attractions for tourists.
Ayurvedic and Herbal Products
The birth country of Ayurveda, India is the place to obtain authentic Ayurvedic products and treatments. Kerala India is renowned for its Ayurvedic centers where the herbal preparations can be customized and readily available. These natural products, which are preferred by those inclined towards holistic methods for wellbeing, can be easily found in big-name retailers or reputable malls located in major region of India. If you would like to enjoy a full Ayurveda treatment it would be the best to schedule your India Tour during monsoon season as the results would be better due to high humidity and temperatures.
Henna Dye And Paste
Henna dye is commonly used to beautify the hands of a bride-to-be and other ladies during festive season. While female hands are adorned in intricate and dainty designs, the males usually choose basic designs such as circles on palms. Besides decorating the hands, henna is a versatile substitute for temporary tattoos. The henna leaves are ground to powder form and then mixed with water to make a strong smelling paste. This paste is then applied on the hands or other parts where the ‘tattoo’ design is desired. After a few hours when the paste is finally dried, it can be washed off to reveal the desired pattern. Depending on the depth of the color and exposure to water, the henna design can last up to few weeks before fading away. One can still sport semi-permanent Indian tradition outside India, and serves as a perfect memorabilia on the India Tour Packages.
These affordable and easily available souvenirs are perfect as gifts or just touches of India to one’s home. Visitors should take care to shop at reliable retailers for a pleasant shopping experience and ensure that their purchases are authentic products. Shopping for Indian products is another fascinating facet of all India Tours.
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Gratulation for your 700 followers! Since I’m one of those can I ask about one about JaimexCersei and Cersei’s evil vagina?
Title: Afterhours
Author: lainelannister
Ship(s)/Characters: Jaime/Cersei, Brienne
Rating: T
Trigger Warning(s): None
Brief Summary: The Senior Vice President of Lannister Incorporated and his beleaguered executive assistant discuss the definition of insanity. Modern AU.
At the strike of 2 AM, the power supply to the 52nd floor suddenly shuts down (one of Lannister Inc.’s perfunctory nods to its “green” initiative, to be sure). Off with the fluorescent lights, off with the computer screens, off with the antique reading lamp on the Senior Vice President’s desk, the one that used to belong to his late mother.
“…Fuck.”
Jaime Lannister grasps his half-empty handle of Bulleit in one hand before rising from his desk chair and using the other hand to grope his way out of the pitch-black office. The neon “Exit” sign provides the only light, and he sidles toward its vermilion glow, wincing as his hip collides with the corner of a desk and his shoulder scrapes a cubicle wall.
He wonders whether it’s even worth the effort to try taking the elevator up to the top floor or if he should just cut his losses and stagger down the many flights of stairs to the ground level- but no sooner does he press the call button then the elevator opens, and he considers it a sign.
(Of what, he’s not so sure…but his stomach aches and he’s having trouble focusing his vision, so a trip down the dim back stairs may not be a wise move at this juncture.)
The main office lighting isn’t in use on the penthouse level, but the pendant lamp in his personal office (the one on the 52nd floor is just his “guest” office, his workplace home-away-from-home) casts its bright luminescence through the windowed walls.
(It had been Cersei who convinced him to buy this obscenely-expensive fixture with its blown-glass fripperies and its fussy Edison bulbs- the Edisons cost a full $10 each, but when she’d stripped out of her sundress and reclined on his desk, her bronzed body painted with rich golden light, he had to consider the pricey bulbs a worthy investment.)
A few crooked, heavy, wavering steps lead him to his office door, already slid half-open. He braces himself against the doorframe and leans farther and farther and farther- before he loses his balance entirely, he spots his executive assistant still perched at her desk, and he calls to her at a far louder volume than he intends:
“What are you still doing here?”
Brienne jolts in her chair with enough force to send her wheeled office chair gliding several inches backwards. When she recognizes Jaime, she breathes a relieved sigh and places her sensibly-shoed feet on the ground to guide her chair back into place.
“I had to sign off on the latest budget proposals. I meant to do it earlier, but time got away from me…” She shoots a glance at the gold-rimmed clock on the wall and winces. “Didn’t realize it was so late.”
Jaime leans against the wall and takes a swig of bourbon, allowing his lips to curve into a smile at the sight of Brienne’s eyeroll.
“Why are you still here?”
“Didn’t feel like going home.” He allows gravity to do what it does best, sinking his body down to the carpeted ground until he sits splay-legged on the floor.
“You’re not gonna throw up, are you?” Brienne glances warily at the bottle clutched in Jaime’s fist, and although he shakes his head in response to her question, she grabs the wastepaper basket from under her desk and places it at his side.
“Anything you wanna talk about?”
Jaime laughs at that, a sharp edge of mockery painfully present, and he can tell from Brienne’s frown that she doesn’t miss it.
“Do I ever want to talk about anything? With you?”
“Yeah, you do sometimes.” She’s annoyed, he can tell- she quickly snatches the bourbon bottle away from him and places it atop her desk, her movements too fast and elegant for him to resist.
She lowers herself back down into her office chair, eyes focused on him in an unnervingly expectant way. Barbed insults and suggestions to go fuck herself tickle his lips, but in the end, he just huffs a sigh through his nostrils and mumbles under his breath: “We had a fight. A bad one.”
“You and your ex?” Brienne asks, obviously making an effort to keep her tone free of judgment. Not for the first time, Jaime wonders how much Brienne really understands about his “difficult” relationship with his “ex-girlfriend”…wonders whether his assistant has managed to connect her boss’s conflicted love story to Tywin Lannister’s golden daughter…
She’s not that perceptive. Or that fucked up.
“Yeah.”
And maybe it’s the drink, maybe it’s the benevolence of Brienne’s silence, but something urges him to continue:
“Nothing’s ever enough for her, you know? I give and I give and I give, and what do I have to show for it? Not a goddamned thing, that’s what.”
“And how is that her fault?”
Jaime blinks in Brienne’s direction, and even in his inebriated state, he’s certain that he must look absolutely ridiculous with his eyes wide and jaw hanging agape.
“Excuse me?”
Brienne swivels her chair to face him head-on, her face adopting a near-exaggerated expression of calm that puts him in mind of a high school guidance counselor. “You’ve complained about this before, about how you keep giving and giving and giving…and yet, you keep doing it.” She hesitates for a moment, as if trying to find a tactful way to finish her thought - too late for that, Tarth-
“You’ve heard that Einstein quote, right? ‘The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results’ or something?”
And suddenly, he’s overcome by the need to obscure her from his view- he closes his eyes and breathes deeply- in through the nose, out through the mouth. He’s distantly aware of Brienne packing her shoulder bag and powering down her computer, but he’s genuinely surprised when she places his bottle of Bulleit on the floor beside him before opening the office door.
Her smile is kind - nearly contrite- when she nods her farewell, calling over her shoulder as she heads for the elevator:
“Turn off the lights before you head out.”
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