The Basket furniture collection by Alain Gilles Studio
For the British Vincent Sheppard furniture company the Alain Gilles Studio created a modern interpretation of rattan furnitures. The Basket collection is an armchair and a side table. The side table is set together of a basket and a removable tablet. The rattan parts are supported by lacquered steel.
if the Concierge was about to show it to us as one of the rooms, and this episode has CANON written right there in the title, then The Case of the Time Juno Steel Rescued Every Single Orphan In Hyperion City is undeniably something that happened, in canon continuity.
I don’t know if this is common knowledge or not, but this scene here is the first, and only time Edward cries
in the series. From the day he and Al burned down their home until now, this is
the only time.
Ed didn’t cry when he and Al discovered what had become of
Nina. He didn’t cry when she was killed. He didn’t cry when Scar destroyed most
of Al’s body, or when Scar was moments away from killing him. He didn’t cry
when Al accused him of creating a fake soul and binding it to armor, of
inventing a brother as some kind of sick joke. He didn’t cry when he learned
Hughes had died, or when he confronted Gracia and admitted the murder was
likely his fault. He didn’t cry listening to Al admit that he was at his wit’s
end, that he couldn’t stand all the nights alone anymore.
He didn’t cry when he
learned Scar had killed the Rockbells after saving his life, or when Hohenheim
accused him of running away. He didn’t cry when he discovered the thing he’d
transmuted wasn’t actually Trisha, or when Envy told him they were doomed to
die inside Gluttony’s failed portal, or when Bradley took Winry hostage, or
when the fight with Kimblee left him with a ten foot steel beam puncturing his
side. He didn’t cry when Pride hijacked Al’s lifeless body, or when he let Al
be locked up in total darkness with Pride, or when Father took them captive and
used them to kill everyone in Amestris.
And he didn’t cry when Al sacrificed his own soul to save Ed’s
No. He’s gotten angry; he’s yelled; he’s exploded, but he’s never cried. This is the only time, and it’s when Hohenheim tells Ed to his face that
he loves them, more than anything in the world, and only wants for them to be
happy—that everything that happened had been his fault, as their father, as an adult, as the one who should have
been protecting them, and not Ed’s.
And Ed bawls.
Here’s why: Ed hates
Hohenheim, and will easily admit it, but he doesn’t hate Hohenheim in the way
he hates other people. Ed enjoys talking smack about those he genuinely hates—he’ll
talk about wanting to beat Scar bloody for everything he’s done, and wanting to kick the
homunculi’s asses for trying to use him and Al as pawns. Hell, he even enjoys
jabbing at Roy for the personality traits he dislikes. Hohenheim is different though.
Hohenheim is the only person Ed hates that he also hates talking about. Every time
Hohenheim is mentioned, Ed responds with a quick, scathing comment about
the man and desperately changes the subject.
And this is all because Ed doesn’t feel right about his
hatred toward Hohenheim. For all the others, Ed hates them from a blameless
position. The homunculi hurt innocent people, as does Scar, as does Kimblee. Ed
securely knows he’s the good guy who hates these bad guys. He’s the moral one,
the blameless one, pushing back against a truly antagonistic force. And this is
what Hohenheim is not. All of Ed’s
hatred toward Hohenheim stems from a place of projected guilt and
self-loathing. Ed decided to try to
bring Trisha back to life. Ed performed
the transmutation that got Al’s body taken away. Ed burned down their home and enlisted in the military, and Ed agreed to do awful things in order to
try to fix what he’d done to Al. But, if Ed dials everything backwards, he can
almost justify rooting this in the fact that Hohenheim left them first.
If Hohenheim had stuck around, maybe Trisha wouldn’t have
died. And if she had, Hohenheim could have stopped Ed and Al from doing
something so reckless as human transmutation. He’s their father after all. He’s supposed to be responsible for them. But he
left, so Ed can almost rationalize the idea that it was Hohenheim’s leaving
that led to everything bad in the brothers’ lives.
Ed knows this is grasping though, and he clings to it in part
because he’s convinced Hohenheim hates him too. The clearest memory Ed has of his
father is from the morning he left, standing stiff at the doorway, glaring down at Ed before heading out the
door and never returning. (A glare which we later learn was the result of
Hohenheim furiously holding back tears). Clearly, Hohenheim hated Ed and Al and
Trisha enough to just walk out the door one day without saying goodbye. Ed’s probably spent a lot of sleepless nights wondering what
they’d done wrong as a family—what he’d done wrong as a son—to make his own
father not want him anymore.
So when Ed talks about how he hates Hohenheim, it’s 100%
intertwined with a hatred he feels for himself. And it’s an insecurity Ed would
never, ever admit to.
Meeting Hohenheim again in episode 20 only works to confirm
Ed’s fears. Hohenheim is unbelievably cold to him—Hohenheim confirms that, yes, all of this was Ed’s fault. Ed
committed the taboo; Ed burned down their home as a means of hiding the memory.
He’s disappointed in Ed. He hates him as a son. And he leaves, again, without
goodbye, because Hohenheim didn’t return home with any sort of change of heart.
Learning the truth about Hohenheim only serves to scramble
Ed’s feelings. He’s confused; he’s uncertain. He can rationalize Hohenheim’s
departure in the context of preparing the counter-transmutation circle, but
what about his memories of the man who glared at him, filled with hatred, and
left? What about the man who accused him of being a scared, stupid child who’s
to blame for all his failures? What about the man who—if only he’d stuck around—could
maybe have stopped Ed from doing all of this? The truth makes sense, but it
does nothing to alleviate all the guilt and self-hatred Ed feels in relation to
Hohenheim, so he doesn’t soften to his father like Al does.
Until this scene.
Until finally, Hohenheim says everything Ed’s desperately
wanted to believe for the past ten years. Hohenheim loves
him. Hohenheim cares about him.
Hohenheim blames himself for what
happened—he should have been around for Ed and Al, he should have been there to stop them from
doing the impossible, he should have been
their father. He wanted to. More than anything in the world, he wanted to just be there for them. Their family
was everything Hohenheim had loved in life, and he’s sorry, from the bottom of
his heart he is sorry, for how he
left them behind. So sorry, that he wants to sacrifice his life in order to fix
what little of it he can.
And that’s what breaks Ed. He was strong enough not to cry
at any other time, for any other reason, but in these few panels Hohenheim destroys
the mangled, tortured sense of fear and guilt and self-loathing that Ed had been harboring for a
decade. Hohenheim loves him. Hohenheim is happy to be Ed’s father, proud, and
so so sorry.
For the first time, Ed cries. Because for the first time, he feels like he can call Hohenheim “Dad”.
Manufactured by Tipping and Lawden on Oxford St, London, England. .577/14,6x50mmR Snider, 8,5″ twin damascus steel barrels, side lever break action, exposed hammer, removable stock. I love how both beautiful and overpowered this firearm is.
there is a church on every street corner for miles. they promise absolution and salvation. no one ever goes in, and no one ever comes out.
you get in your car and drive. you will run across a town you have never seen before just as the dashboard clock ticks over to Too Late. the people there will look at you as if you are a freak of nature. you will keep driving. you will never see that town again.
along the cracking highway are nothing but empty fields. a sign amidst dead grass and melting snow tells you HELL IS REAL. it offers no solace, no solution, no way out. it simply tells you what you already know.
the cities have names that strangers can never pronounce, but that you were born with on your lips. they are more than letters–they are unpronounceable symbols in some ancient tongue. they fill you with melancholy, and with yearning.
there is a river that still stinks of ash and soot. the sun sets across it like blood spilling across the floor, and you can imagine that it is still burning.
the steel mills have been closed since before you were born. keep telling yourself that when you walk by them and hear the clanging of ancient machinery and feel your scalp tingle with unseen eyes. you will dream about white hot sparks and wake up with black grease staining your hands. the steel mills have been closed since before you were born.
it’s round on the ends, and full of an aching sense of desperation and loss in the middle.
the sidewalks are crumbling, and the buildings are nothing more than decaying ribs poking out corrugated steel sides. the clock on that building has shown the same time since before your mother was born. you cut yourself and you bleed, rust red.
we have no accent here. we have every accent here. every word is tinged with a trace of something that you can almost place. you ask us about it and we just smile. we have no accent here.
John refuses to let you guys go walking in the woods anymore because of that time Alex got lost because he ran away to chase a rabbit and you couldn’t find him for almost two hours
He literally ran almost three miles after this rabbit in five minutes
He then had a panic attack because he was lost and the sun was coming up
You found him though, thank God, with just enough time to get him home before he got hurt
He doesn’t like the taste of certain blood – most vampires don’t care but he does
He won’t take his steaks as anything but rare but his pork has to be fully cooked or he throws up and gets a nosebleed
He likes to stay up late – it’s either you or John who has to drag him to bed because he goes the weakest for the two of you
But he doesn’t even do things he can’t do in the daytime
Literally, it’s like he could go outside and take a walk – he could do something he can only do at night – but no, there he is, writing a thirty-page essay and drinking more coffee at 1 AM
He’s got soft spots though
Laf’s wings are his favorite thing like just show him a feather and he’s up like Laf’s wings are warm and Jesus this boy loves being close to his boyfriend like that
He’s a kinky boy, suck his neck and he’s just t h er e
John can get him in with a blowjob just sayin’ (He could sing at the poor boy, but that would mean sex before bed because nothing turns Alex on more than John’s singing) so he’s just kind of like ‘I’ll let you fuck my throat if you come to bed’
Herc just has to give him that look and he’s shuffling quietly into the bedroom
But that’s only in severe cases because, although vampires tend to be fearsome, nothing is scarier than an angry demon, and when Herc is angry, you’ll know
It’s the look Alex gets when he’s done something wrong
He goes all non-verbal after that and it’s awful because Alex may be the most dreaded species out of all of you guys, he’s still fragile
Hercules hates doing it
But after three nights of not sleeping, Alex still won’t go to sleep, so he kind of has to
Angel!Lafayette: (I said wings like 90 times here much sorry)
Laf has the nicest wings!!!!
They’re so soft and warm
They’re pure-white, but fade down to a baby-swan grey and they’re so pretty!!!
He closes them when he blushes but they’re nice ‘n open when he’s excited it’s so cute he doesn’t even know he does it
They provide lots of shade so he’s the best to go to the beach/picnic with because there’s never any sun in your eyes
He sleeps with them like a blanket and encases whoever is next to him as well, usually meaning Alex wakes up with a feathery blanket wrapped around his waist and his actual covers missing
But that’s okay though because he’s right up against Laf and that makes him all gushy and gooey and cute
and warm Laf’s so warm
The biggest Supernatural fan you’ve ever met
Probably has a crush on both Dean and Sam
Hates Castiel because he “Looks too much like mon père.”
Also when he stretches, he does this thing that’s just… wow
Like the fact that he stretches his arms over his head and it shows off his biceps and toned stomach is enough
But then his wings stretch out and the tips point up and god he’s perfect
But he does this thing where he’ll keep his wings stretched after he drops his arms down and yawns
And then he wraps himself in his wings and it’s like a giant hug!
You, Alex, and John have developed a contest to see who can hug him at the perfect time to get wrapped up in his wings with him
And he’s just kind of like “Ah! Bonjour, mon amour!” and he smiles so wide and kisses your forehead, spinning you slightly in his wings and hes so happy I just,,,,,
He wears giant hoodies in public because he doesn’t think they’re as beautiful as everyone thinks they are because… Well…
Like most angels, the dude’s pretty old
Most monsters like him were kept in circus’, freak shows, things like that
He was basically the property of the famous French traveling circus: ‘Nightline Brother’s Travelling Carnival Of Freaks, Mystery, and Tricks!’
The name is burned onto the sole of his left foot, and, even though it’s been almost a century, it’s still there
He won’t take off his socks for almost anything because of it
But his wings, they… They’re not great
He’s missing large patches of grey and white feathers here and there, but the skin underneath is all red and rough and bumpy like it’s been burned it’s… It’s not good
“I messed up one time… A few times.”
He’s got a few scars on his back and doesn’t like taking off his shirt, because they’re red and angry and pronounced and ugly – not to you, to him – and it hurts him to see them
“The people liked it when I screamed, I… I do not know…” He sighs. “It hurt. But it’s okay, I amfine, mon chou. It is over.”
He likes to fly but only does it when he wants - you can’t ask him too because then he’ll think he has to or he’ll disappoint you
Yet another side-effect from being a captive for so long
Sometimes you’ll walk into him flying around the bedroom
Or the library,
He does it in empty shopping centers
He always has this goofy grin on his face when he flies
It’s a reminder that he’s free
You guys are allowed to touch his wings as long as he knows you’re doing it, but the second someone else touches them he has a panic attack
“When I was… Uncooperative, they… They used strings. You could never see them, but if I did not want to show my wings they would make me open them… It hurt a lot… Hands just feel the same I suppose?”
Unless it’s a little kid, he trusts them because they were always the ones who were gentle with him back in his freak-show days; plus they were the ones who gave him scraps of food and whatnot when they noticed ‘how skinny the bird in the cart with bars is’
Also, he can’t have his hands tied - it’s too big a reminder of the shackles he was once bound by - he’ll cry and thrash like a madman because it brings back too many memories
Like one time he was kind of freaking out because of something and tried to get his sweater off quickly and in a moment of panic, it got caught around his wrists behind his back
He fell to the floor and writhed, shrieking and flapping his wings like a deranged pigeon when Alex went to help him
And John freaked, asking if he should just start singing to try and calm the Frenchman down, but Laf only sobbed harder, begging him not to because he didn’t want to lose consciousness like this
He only calmed down when Alex managed to yank the sweater off him, and then he curled up, wrapped himself in his wings, practically hiding in the feathers, and sobbed for almost half an hour
None of you left his side though
Alex missed work
John was tired
You were crying
Herc was petting his hair, whispering sweet nothings into his ear the whole time
But none of you left
“Je suis désolé, mes amours, I just… It is a memory – it just hurts to think about, I am… I am so sorry.”
But the one that really gets you is the scar where his wings meet his skin
It’s a deep, dark, unfading scar that he’ll have panic attacks over and point to and all of you guys just know
It hurts when it rains and aches when he flies too high
That was the only deformation you asked about, and you were met with a sigh as he rubbed his hand over his tired face
“I… They wanted to try to make me human, I suppose? Didn’t get very far – they said the screams were heard for miles.”
He says it like it’s an accomplishment, but you just feel your heart break and you hold him real close
He wraps his wings around you
And you just sob
“I love you…” You mumble into his skin. “I love you, you and your scars, you and your wings, you. I’m so sorry, Laf, I’m so, so sorry.”
He’ll wake up in the middle of the night panting in a cold sweat at least three times a week - probably more
He’ll need someone to hold onto, so don’t get mad if he wakes you up and doesn’t let go for like twenty minutes
He just needs to forget all those nights where he was chained up, alone, in a wooden cart with cold, steel bars on every side, with only the moon and the screams of other “freaks” to fall asleep too
John’s singing is just… Oof
The minute those golden pipes start a-rollin’, whoever passes is horny for the rest of the day
He’s never taken a shower without at least one of you there because he legit can’t contain his singing in the shower
Laf and Herc are better about that stuff – it doesn’t affect them as much, maybe because they’re older and more dominant
But the minute Alex even hears a note out of that boy’s mouth he’s either on his knees and pliant or ready to taste some of that sweet blood (With John’s consent of course)
But he can’t help it, he loves to sing
And why shouldn’t he? He’s great at it!!
Sometimes it attracts unwanted attention though
They once got into a bar fight because some guys couldn’t keep it in their pants when he drunkenly quietly sang along to Kelly Clarkson while Alex, Herc, and Laf were getting more drinks
Now, your boys don’t get angry easily
A bar fight? They would’ve probably given the dudes a few bruises but they’re smart enough to get out of there while they can
But they legit came back to find John pinned against the wall by his wrists, disgusting lips on his neck, writhing as they tried to slip their hands into his pants
The pedophiles barely made it out alive
John basically had a constant panic attack for the next few weeks, though, because, although those men did basically try to rape him, it was his fault - he sung
He refused to go out for almost a month after that until you and the boys had an intervention of sorts and convinced him that it wasn’t his fault
Literally, all Siren’s singing does is turn you on they were bad men and John, please don’t cry, it wasn’t your fault
Poor bbyg has a lot of problems
He has bad memories of boats
Doesn’t like nets either
But he refuses to tell you why
He absolutely despises aquariums and fish stores
Can’t sleep in anything but his boxers and sometimes falls asleep in the bath
Knows a lot about octopi, loved finding Dory and finding Nemo and cried during both movies
He’s the baby, though, he’s only about 400 years old
He can control the whole half-fish thing pretty easily
When he was younger he couldn’t control it and would just swim up to shore and then as soon as he’s on the sand whoops he’s on two legs
The rare and interesting 7.62mm AK mag collection grows. Left to right: Izhevsk bakelite, Tula bakelite, 40rd RPK bakelite, Izhevsk side stamp steel, Izhevsk aluminum “paratrooper” magazine, Izhevsk early “slabside”, and a Chinese factory 36 75rd wind-up drum.
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Author’s Note: I’m sorry it took me so long to write this part, but I think you’ll like it! There WILL be another part to this story, and it’s already almost done, so I promise there won’t be such a long wait for the next one. Enjoy!!
Everything seems like a horrible dream. You feel like you’re treading through the
thickest mud, barely able to move forward.
Your mind is full of cobwebs, making everything muffled and dull. You moan as aches and pains come back to you
in full force, sending waves of agony through your body. Your chest in particular is throbbing,
through you can feel spikes of pain coming from other areas, like your injured
arm and leg.
You slowly open your eyes, blinking sluggishly, your
eyelids feeling very heavy and weighed down by your extreme fatigue. Everything looks too bright and blurred, and
you blink a few more times, trying to clear your vision. It helps a little, but nothing really comes
into proper focus, leaving you feeling dizzy and disoriented. You realize that someone is touching you, and
you can feel something warm and wet against your neck. You feel it move away from you and eventually
realize someone had a washcloth on your skin.
Why? You can’t think clearly
enough to figure out an answer. You
can’t remember what’s going on, and your heartrate spikes as fear and confusion
start to take over your brain.