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obsessedwithceleste · 2 months

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Reflections

Mattheo Riddle x reader

Interlocked pt 1

Based on this request.

Summary: reflection (n) a serious thought or consideration.

word count: 2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

You feel your hands beginning to tremble as you stare up at the large statue of a golden griffin that supposedly lead to the headmaster's office. An owl had dropped a letter on your bed just hours ago summoning you to him, and since then, you had been racking your brain trying to think of a reason for his request.

It was the last day of term before you were to return home for the summer. Most of your friends were in the dorms packing at that very moment, but not you. No, you were standing here, wondering why on Earth you were being called to the headmaster's office.

Your grades were fine, you hadn't gotten into any spats with a professor, or another student for that matter, you hadn't lost your house any points. You couldn't think of a single reason Dumbledore would want to see you. No. That wasn't true you realize. You were one of the names on the list of Dumbledore's Army.

But then why were none of your other classmates being summoned?

Before you could worry yourself any further, you look up at the statue in front of you.

“Lemon drop” you say timidly, not entirely sure that the password would work.

To your surprise however, the griffin lets out a loud grinding sound as it turns slowly, revealing a hidden staircase behind. Taking a deep breath and stealing yourself, you forge ahead, carefully making your way up the winding staircase.

You find yourself standing in a large study, bookshelves lining the walls, and previous headmasters roaming about the grande picture frames hanging above. Peering about, the room appears to be empty as you make your way up to the large desk that is centered in the room.

You didn’t mean to snoop. Well, maybe a little. A handful of seemingly random objects lay strewn atop the dark mahogany, a glimmer of silver catching your eye. Picking up the small object carefully, you find it to be a thick, silver ring embedded with dark emeralds. An ornate letter S carved into the heavy metal.

“I see you’ve taken a fancy to the Slytherin ring,” the raspy voice of Professor Dumbledore states as the man seems to materialize next to you.

Startled, you jolt back from the desk, the ring clattering against the wood as it falls from your hand.

“Professor! I’m so sorry. I hadn’t meant to snoop,” you rush, holding your hands tightly behind your back.

With a light chuckle, Dumbledore picks up the silver ring, a contemplative look on his face.

“Strange things heirlooms. This particular ring belonged to a Salazar Slytherin, you may have heard of him,” he says, a glimmer of mischief in his eye.

Your jaw drops open in shock. The Salazar Slytherin?

“In fact, all of these heirlooms once belonged to the houses of one of the founders.” He continues, picking up a heavy looking silver necklace dripping with sapphires and diamonds to inspect. “Curious that you choose that ring.”

“It just caught my eye,” you mumble. “What are you doing with all these anyway, Professor?”

The old man pauses, considering the jewels clasped tightly in his hand.

“I’ve been searching for something. Or somethings, rather. Which leads me to the reason you were brought here today. It is my understanding that you were one of the students involved with Harry Potter’s, tutoring sessions, shall we say?”

You hold your breath. Here it comes. You must be in some sort of trouble you think as you give a slight nod.

“You must know then, that Voldemort has returned.” Dumbledore states, a seriousness taking over his face.

Again, you nod your head slightly. You had heard what had happened at the department of mysteries obviously.

“And I assume you also know he has a son at this very school?”

Of course. Mattheo Riddle. A Slytherin, obviously, in your class. Mischievous and rowdy, with a reputation for breaking the hearts of girls throughout the school. How could you not know of him?

“Yes professor.”

Dumbledore once again takes a moment to observe you and you shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

“You must know, y/n that what I am about to ask next is not to be taken lightly.”

You blink back at the old man, not at all sure where this was going.

“During times like these, it is essential that we gather as much information as possible in order to overcome our enemies,” he explains, eyes never once leaving yours.

“I don’t think I quite understand what you’re asking sir. You want me to become a spy?”

Dumbledore pauses, head tilting as if trying to put his next words together as carefully as possible.

“It would be, quite beneficial, to have someone form a sort of- attachment to the young Mr. Riddle. Someone for example, who isn’t as connected to Mr. Potter, but still dedicated to his cause.”

“Someone like me.” You finish, taking in his words. “You want me to date Mattheo Riddle to gain information for you.”

You can see the glimmer in Dumbledore’s eyes once more as he ever so slightly gives a nod of his head.

“Of course a decision doesn’t need to be made immediately. You’ll have the summer to think things over, though y/n I must ask that this conversation remains private.”

His words churn in your head as you take a moment to truly understand what was being asked of you. If Voldemort had truly returned, this would send you right into the heart of the snake pit. A dangerous position indeed.

“Of course professor,” you mumble, as the old man leads you back in the direction of the staircase.

As you make your way back to your dormitory, you can’t shake the proposal from your mind. It was a monstrous ask for a teenager to become a spy so early in what you were sure was inevitably going to be war. But you were also sure that Dumbledore wouldn’t request this of you unless he was certain that it would be relatively safe. Especially considering you’d be within the confines of the school.

You let out an anxious sigh. You certainly had a lot to think about in the coming months.

Mattheo shivered feeling the cold draft that seemed to be a permanent resident of Malfoy Manor.

After his father’s self-proclaimed abominable travesty at the department of mystery, he had been moved into the manor with the rest of his father’s mindless followers. The only solace he had was the fact that both Draco Malfoy and Lorenzo Berkshire had been brought to reside in the manor as well, the three banding together to make it through the summer.

He sat with Enzo now in the library, the fireplace giving off just enough light for them to make out the small black print on the pages. This is really all life had been recently. Sitting in the library waiting for one of the adults to come calling for one of them before coming back to disassociate.

“He’s calling for you. Father told me to fetch you,” Draco says, from the library doorway, as if vocalizing Matthew’s thoughts. His pale face looked especially hollow, as if he’d seen a ghost- or more likely the Cruciatus curse.

Mattheo let’s put a deep sigh, dropping his book onto the table beside him as Enzo looks at the two with pity.

He despised the fact that his father had returned. Utterly loathed it in fact. Slytherin students at Hogwarts were already pariahs in the halls. But add on the last name Riddle? He was set up for failure, he thought bitterly to himself. And now with the whole Dark Lord nonsense. Mattheo sighed in annoyance.

He knew he should fear that thing that was his father, but honestly, he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d spent his entire life ostracized, assumed the worst of, beaten down, what more could the Dark Lord really take from him? He’d already made his life a living hell by simply giving him a name. He just didn’t care.

Mattheo lazily made his way to the Master’s wing of the mansion which his father had quickly taken over, displacing the Malfoys to a small guest room on the opposite side of the house. After placing the blame for his most recent failure on Lucious Malfoy, his father was reveling in humiliating the man in any way possible. He knew it was hitting Draco hard too, but they were too proud to say anything.

Finally reaching the large, perhaps intimidating double doors of the study his father was currently presiding in, Mattheo didn’t even need to knock as the doors flew open, eyes turning towards him.

The usual goons were there. Bellatrix of course, Lucius and Narcissa, Pettigrew, Severus. Even Theodore's father Nott Sr. They all watched in silence as he stepped a few feet into the room.

“Mattheo,” the eerie voice of his father hisses with glee as the boy enters.

“Father.” He replies dryly.

“Just the one I was looking for.”

“Well you did summon me.”

The Dark Lord glared at the petulant boy in front of him.

“Mattheo, dear boy, come closer.”

Mattheo frowns at his father’s request, grimacing at the thought of being anywhere near the ghastly creature. Nevertheless, he walks confidently further into the room, coming to stop directly in front of his father.

It didn’t take long for Mattheo to feel his father begin to try and pry into his mind, scavenging for something, though Mattheo wasn’t sure what. He steeled himself, having become rather familiar with occlumency since his father’s return. It really wasn’t difficult to off-track the Dark Lord, he had tended to see what he wanted to see, but not many of his followers had seemed to pick up on that particular trait.

After a few minutes of this, the Dark Lord seemed to grow frustrated.

“Mattheo, I have a special task for you,” he announces finally, a large grin overtaking his face. “You should feel honored that such a role is being entrusted with you. Do you feel honored boy?”

“Of course.” Mattheo grits out.

In actuality however, he was growing nervous. He knew that Lorenzo had already been tasked with fixing a broken vanishing cabinet at Hogwarts. And Draco- well. Draco had been assigned a task as well. Both seemed impossible. It was only a matter of time before he was assigned a task himself.

The Dark Lord smiled menacingly at his son.

“We want a spy. Someone in Dumbledore’s little army to feed us information about his sacred chosen one.” He announces. Bellatrix lets out a cackle from beside him.

“Father, I’m not quite sure you’ve thought this through. I’m not exactly in the good graces of most of Hogwart’s population,” Mattheo responds, slightly annoyed.

His father’s face immediately turns to one of rage.

“Silence you impertinent child!” He bellows.

“You dare question your master?” Bellatrix screeches. “Let me punish him master. Let me practice on him like I did little Draco,” she begs.

Mattheo frowns at the woman in disgust.

“Silence Bellatrix. All in good time. But Mattheo you will not be the spy, no. I am no mere amateur to the games that Dumbledore will play. No, dear boy, your task is to lure in someone from Dumbledore’s order. Form an- attachment. Seduce them, do what you must and they will spill their secrets. Affection makes one weak Mattheo. Love might have prevented me from getting rid of their savior once. But it will not again. Love makes you weak, and they will learn.”

Mattheo looks at his father with disdain. A ridiculous task, he thought. And definitely something far better suited for Lorenzo who would have absolutely no trouble chatting up some witch. But that’s just the thing wasn’t it. The Dark Lord wanted to see them squirm. Struggle.

“Is that all father?” He asks, growing bored.

The Dark Lord considers the boy in front of him before waving his hand.

“Bring me the Berkshire boy. Bellatrix needs a new play thing.”

God I'm slow😫 idk why this was so hard to write but here we are🫠

tag list: @elsafromcabinsix

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire #matteo riddle #slytherin #harry potter universe #enzo berkshire #draco malfoy #matteo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

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weekendviking · 1 year

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Further adventures in Experimental Archaeology.

So, throughout my many years as a reenactor and aspiring bang the rocks together experimental archaeology adjacent loon, it's always interesting to be at the cutting (or bruised, bleeding or dazed) edge.

So when this paper crossed various blogs, we couldn't resist:

Collins, R., & Sands, R. (2023). Touch wood: Luck, protection, power or pleasure? A wooden phallus from Vindolanda Roman fort. Antiquity, 1-17. doi:10.15184/aqy.2023.11

After reading the various hot takes, a few of us decided that it was worth trying out the various non bodily penetrative possible uses of the item to see if we could match the wear patterns.

Construction: We don't have readily available European Ash where we are, so the green roundwood to hand this weekend was Poplar, of which I'd felled a sapling to supply billets for the spoon carvers. I roughed out the taper with a side axe, and then used one of the early medieval utility knives I made earlier in the week to whittle the phallus down to about the dimensions described, but a little larger to account for the variously cited 5-8% shrinkage of ash as it dries, and a little more for post burial archaeological shrinkage.

Part of the build montage:

It was very quick to make - around two hours from first cut to finished object. Would take a little longer in seasoned wood or hardwood.

Because the different possible uses of the object may leave different wear patterns, more than one will need to be made. First proposal: It's a Pestle, and any wear patterns are from the pounding of food or mineral materials, rather than the pounding of the denizens of Vindolanda.

As we were about to cook the evening meal, some coarse salt needed to be ground, with a spare bowl standing in for the mortar, and the freshly carved phallus as pestle:

It works really well as a pestle, and reduced 4-8mm grainsize coarse salt down to a sub millimeter size in a minute or two, and was a comfortable shape to use, with the slope of the glans against the base of one's palm, and thumb and middle finger on the underside of the shaft, forefinger on the top near the bulge of the base for control.

While a single use isn't going to show much wear, because this is fresh green poplar, the base quickly started rounding, with a distinct patch of abrasion obscuring the tooling marks from my whittling knife:

I'll continue to use this in my kitchen mortar for a few weeks, and see if it develops any more distinctive wear patterns. Just from this weekend's use, one could see a little wear and high points on the shaft beginning to pick up use marks from my hands, mostly just discolouration from soot and so forth on my hands from being busy around an open fire cooking site:

This is an ongoing project, and there will be further iterations, with each replica only used for one tool type, to see if the wear patterns are specific to the different uses:

Drop Spindle, to see if it functions as a dealgan type drop spindle. Personally, I think the detailing on the glans section is a little light to provide an effective tye point for use as a drop spindle.

Mallet, for woodworking, driving chisels, etc. Probably unlikely, as this would leave very distinct impact marks on the flared base, especially if it was used while still greenwood.

Darning mushroom, for repairing knitwear. Some of us think this is quite likely, so it's a hot favourite.

Further details will be posted here :-)

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deadpoolsoci3ty · 4 months

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so you're the a (alastor x reader) ch 1

(a/n: so i've been posting this on ao3 for about a week and just decided to post on here too now. also i do not have a posting schedule im busy lol sorry)

summary: finding the radio at that thrift store may have completely changed the course of my life, but really i'm not complaining at all.

word count: 1,789

warnings: none i think (let me know if should add some!)

ao3 link

masterlist

Chapter One: thing of beauty

The cold wind of Chicgo bit at my face as I walked the short walk from my apartment to the thrift store. I’m not totally sure what I was going there to look for, but I just needed to get out of my apartment. The walk was pleasant because I’m a college student home at one o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday, so the sidewalks are barren. The store finally comes into view, and then I’m walking in. I greet the woman at the register, and immediately book it towards the trinkets in the back. I look through their selection of shot glasses and mugs, not seeing anything that I just had to have. I pace around the back of the store until I see this gorgeous antique radio. A radio would be great for background noise when I’m reading, and plus this was a thing of beauty. I may not have a lot of money, but I knew in my heart whatever price this radio was, it was coming home with me. I rushed over to pick it up so I could find the price, but before my eyes could land on the price tag they first saw a small ‘A’ carved into wood in the corner. Maybe it was like an Andy Toy Story situation, a cute little memory from a previous owner. Then I found the price, a solid $60 which I am truly willing to part with for this beautiful radio.

With an extra pep in my step, I made my way to the register to pay for my lovely new friend. I greeted the employee at the register once again, and she looked somewhat excited that I put the radio on the conveyor belt. “Has this been here long?” I asked because I was confused how someone would pass up this piece of art.

“Longer than me, pretty sure,” she shrugged, “all the employees here have made up our little stories about the history behind it.” She rang me up and the screen prompted me to put my card in, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get a sweet treat for a week or two but the radio was worth it. “It has been bought before though,” I furrowed my brow because what was wrong with this damn clock? But, to be honest I didn’t care if the radio even worked or not (I was hoping it did though) it was just beautiful. “The people always come back in basically begging us to buy it back, don’t even care for how much. One guy sold it to us for fifty cents one time.”

Now, normally I would not be caught dead with an object that people had been begging to return, and with the way the employee had been describing the situation the radio was definitely scaring the shit out of everybody that purchased it. But, for some reason I needed this radio. A little about me, I’m a textbook snobby english major. I love all things vintage, I think the classics are the greatest works in English literature, and hold a deep detestment for many aspects of modern culture. Yes, I am annoying.

“Mmm, something tells me I’ll be keeping it for the long haul.” I don’t know what possessed me to say something like this, but I’m just gonna go with it. I thank the employee and make my way out of the shop.

The walk home was much less brisk now that I was carrying this heavy radio, but I didn’t think about it much. I was just so excited. My roommate was out filming for some school project so I could fiddle with it when I got home.

After what feels like forever, I see the fence in front of my apartment. I whip out my keys, and put them in the lock of the first door and lock it behind me, while putting the key into the next door which leads to my apartment. I take off my shoes and lock the door. I walk over to the dining room table and put my purse down along with the radio so I can take my coat off. Once coatless, I grab the radio and set it down on the coffee table in front of the couch. I mess with the knobs and dials until I hear a crackle. “Yes!” I yelled, as I began switching through the stations, most of the stations I knew from the radio in my car were entirely static. After a couple of minutes I heard someone speaking, the voice was filtered through what sounded like a microphone from the early days of audio.

“Hello dearie!~” the strange voice spoke, I assumed it was a prerecorded file a station was playing. Like a radio version of the history channel. So, of course I didn’t speak back to the radio. Then, the voice came back, “I said…” a loud static started to emanate from the speaker, “Hello!”

My first thought was ‘fuck me, if this is a demon in here, I’m definitely going to fall for one of his traps’ I had just though about this a couple days ago, I want things! Sue me! And I’m not fucking with you two days ago I had been thinking about this shit and now here I am. Welp, I’m fucked, but still I carry on. And now I was sure I had completely lost my mind, so since that had already happened and I was obviously in the middle of an episode of psychosis, I decided to reply, “Oh! Umm I didn’t think you were speaking to me. My apologies!” Whoever this person who was speaking was, I definitely did NOT want him to be upset with me.

“Oh dear, oh dear! Far in the past now! You’ve got my radio!” I could tell whoever was speaking was smiling, I could hear in their voice.

“This is yours? It’s gorgeous, I can assume you’re the ‘A’ on the bottom of it.” I could have asked so many questions, but I went with this one. I’m not totally sure why, but I really want to know more about the strange voice.

“Alastor! That’s my name, sweetheart!” He seemed excited to introduce himself, and honestly I was just as excited as him.

“Hello Alastor! My name is Y/N! It’s nice to meet you! Where do you live, Alastor? I found the radio in Chicago!” Why was I telling this strange voice over a creepy radio where I live.

“Oh when I was alive, my home was New Orleans. Absolutely fantastic! It made it all the way to the Windy City!” My heart froze after his fifth word, hair standing up, goose pimples all over my skin, and a shock through my spine. When he was alive??? What the fuck does that mean? He’s definitely a demon, yep fuck me.

“Just to clarify, you did just say ‘when you were alive’ right? That wasn’t me hearing things, right?” I was hyperventilating out of my damn mind. I absolutely understood now why people had returned this freaky fucking radio

“Oh yes, of course, dear! I’m coming to you straight from Hell.” The way he said it like it was the most casual thing ever, had me feeling like I was overreacting to what he was saying.

“And you’re not messing with me?” After it came out of my mouth I heard him clench his teeth.

“Oh, now what is your impression of me that says I would do that to you?” He seems frustrated with my question, and that did not sit right with me. I was quick to appease him.

“No, no, no, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant by that, I promise!” I try to stop myself from spilling my guts to this man who I believe might be a demon, because the voice in my head was telling me giving personal information to a demon was probably not the best decision I could make, but I just couldn’t stop myself. “It’s just I never believed in an afterlife or a religion, so it’s just that you have just told me that hell is real and that is absolutely insane to me because now I’m terrified hell is horrible. Is it horrible? I mean I guess that’s the point?” I took a deep breath before I continued my word vomiting, but before I got the chance, Alastor began speaking again.

“Sweet girl~ please stop with the yammering…” His voice seemed like nectar to me, I could listen to him speak all day, “before we continue with our little back and forth, I am going to need to know what I’m getting out of this?” I immediately started thinking about the things I could offer him, not my soul. Wasn’t there just yet.

“What could you possibly want from me?” This was the most genuine question I had asked in a long time, I had absolutely nothing to offer him. I had money for groceries, rent, and utilities. Most of my possessions were books, he was in hell what use could he have for anything I could give him.

“I just adore your voice, little deer!” He was back to being his chirpy self, and it rubbed off on me making me feel a little calmer. “I’m sure you would love to continue our little chats, and in return I’d just like for you to read to me, from a book of your choosing of course.” I was trying not to let off how excited I was, I wanted him to feel like he was getting more out of this than he was. “I’m trusting you have immaculate taste, but give a couple of your favorites just so I can tell.”

After a few quick beats I respond with, “My favorite book of all time is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, I’m a big fan of the classics, nineteenth century literature.”

“Oh how swell!” he seemed like he was buzzing with glee, “A beautiful voice with even better taste!” He seemed to chuckle to himself and as his laugh faded out his voice came back, “Well, dearest, I’m afraid I must be going for now! I’ll excuse your payment for today, but be ready for next time, my dear,” I took a deep breath at the thought of a next time, “When you want to contact me again, just tune back into this station, I’ll be able to tell. I won’t always be able to talk, but when I can I’ll be there in a jiffy!”

Before I could respond to him the static that accompanied his voice faded and it eventually became silent in my apartment once again. I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and leaned back into my couch.

(a/n: i've written five chapters so far i'll be posting the other four asap)

#alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor fic #hazbin fic #hazbin hotel fic

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vintagesimstress · 1 year

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Mirai's Medieval Activities Add-On

Would you like to make your game a bit harder? Constantly worry that your sims might starve themselves to death? Or just add another touch of realism? If yes, look no further! Those add-ons are guaranteed to turn your TS4 into a survival simulator and give you a decent amount of frustration and stress :P

Here come two little add-ons for MiraiM's Medieval Activities mod. In case you haven't heard of it: it adds a new option under 'Travel' cellphone menu, called - you guessed it - Medieval Activities, which lets your sims pick from a list of rabbithole... well... medieval(ish) activities. While most of them are indeed distinctly medieval, some can be used also in other eras - especially the first one, which makes your sim go to the woods and collect logs. Your sim returns from this rabbithole activity with a bunch of logs in their inventory (plus a tense moodlet and tragic hygiene stats), which can later be sold for a decent amount of money. Unless... You download add-ons which make those logs necessary for using certain objects.

I fell in love with this mod the moment I found it, but was a bit disappointed to see the logs being (optionally) required only for otg stoves and fireplaces - both of which I'm not allowed to use in the iron age. I tried asking the creator if she could make an add-on for campfires as well, only to realise that the last post on her page was written half a year ago, not even by her, and it states that she's in a very bad health condition... And so, after overcoming the initial 'feeling like a total insensitive idiot' phase, I decided to give it a go myself.

There are two add-ons: one combined for campfires, bonfires and grills, and another one for the woodworking table. As for the amount of logs required, I totally made those numbers up, trying to adhere to some basic logic and Mirai's og stove & fireplace requirements:

lighting a campfire: 3 logs

lighting a bonfire: 5 logs (cause bonfires are bigger, right? And the fire seems to last much longer)

adding a log: 1 log

grilling anything: 2 logs

woodworking: requirements vary depending on the size of the craftable; anywhere from 1 log (knifeblock) to 5 logs (bathtub, table)

All has been tested in game, of course, especially the campfire, and oh boy, let me just tell you: this combined with the off the grid and simple living challenges makes every simday a fight for survival. Which sounds pretty darn accurate for pre/protohistorical times, so... Hurray?

Anyway. Have, ehmmm... fun with it and... ehmmm... enjoy.

DOWNLOAD (free on Patreon, no ads)

ABSOLUTELY, 100% requires Mirai's original mod to work. Don't put it in your mods folder if you don't have her Medieval Activities!

A hundred thanks to Mirai for creating such a cool mod in the first place. Sending you all my love and best wishes <3

***

Altered resources (aka potential conflicts):

recipe tuning files for all the woodworking craftables

campfire_AddLog (102352)

campfire_Light (101940)

grill_StartCrafting (35026)

grill_StartCrafting_RequiredIngredients (261962)

herbalism_BrewPotion_Grill (103875)

bonfire_light (121477)

bonfire_add_fuel (121485)

#mods #medieval #ts4 mods #iron age #dark ages #mirai

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changingplumbob · 4 months

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Woods Household: Chapter 1, Part 2

In this part the couple work together to get the file from the sheriff, Reece learns how bad the attacks were, then the couple unwind at the romance festival.

I changed my limit of pic collages per story post to 20 a while ago but I felt like I wrote a lot here. I did math and it's 52% longer than part 1 so... grab that snack, grab that coffee, it will probably take a few extra minutes to read so may as well be comfy.

Low level content warning: Some sim spice, mentions of death and violence

Reece: You’re so damn precise, I love it

Samir: Sometimes, like when we’re together, I have to be. Safety first. Other times, well…

Samir pulls out a knife and begins swinging at the block, causing Reece to wobble in his tree pose.

Reece: *shocked* The hell are you doing???

Samir: If they didn’t want me to use a knife for woodworking, why would they include one with the table. There, one horse sculpture done

Reece: *quizzically* Are you… starting another one?

Samir: We have to earn money somehow. But go back to your brainwave

Reece: My brainwave?

Samir: I know you. If you were thinking about the sheriff then you were bound to come up with a brainwave

Reece: I was thinking, the file on your parents deaths has to have a hard copy in records. Do you know where they’re kept?

Samir: The station is technically a small office above the library, so they’ve got to be kept nearby but not inside

Reece: I was thinking I'll go and talk to Sheriff Captain about the deed stuff while you go have a look for the file. Then we, you know, run away

Samir: I don’t like the idea of using you as a distraction

Reece: I’ll have you know I am very distracting, it’s a quality I have. Besides, I don't think you'd be able to have a conversation with that jerk. Unless it was a see who blinks first contest

Samir: *snorts* Well if Captain seemed to think you were a responsible person, we may as well take advantage

Reece: Okay just... let me take a cold shower first. Hearing you work there gave me... some kind of feelings

Samir: *smirks* Alright but no cheating. Remember, good boys follow the rules

The two head to the renovated mill which now serves as the Recreation centre for the town. Before heading in Samir grabs hold of Reece’s wrist, and twists him so they’re face to face.

Reece: Are you all right? There doesn’t seem to be too many people around

Samir: It’s not… I mean people are difficult but… I wanted to say, whether we pull this off or not, it means the world to me that you want to help

Reece: Of course I want to help, I love you

Samir: And I love you. Have I told you that today?

Reece: Yes, but that doesn’t mean I object to hearing it again

Samir: 🎵I… Love… You🎶

Reece: Well be still my beating heart

Samir: I’m so proud of you for coming up with this idea

Reece: It wasn’t that tough, I just… you know… thought it up

Samir: It still came from your brain blondie. You're a genius

Reece: We should get inside before I turn red, or the sheriff hears your singing and figures out what we’re doing

Samir: You go first, then I get the best view. One damn fine backside

Reece: Just admit you want me to fail at not getting off. You’re so- oh hey look, laundry machines!

Samir: Good. You always get your clothes dirty

Reece: It’s not like I get them dirty by myself. Is it this way

Samir: Should be. Nothing else has changed here

Reece: That’s one big sign. Hey *laughs* do you get the feeling he’s compensating for something?

Samir: Please don’t suggest that to him

Reece: Don’t worry boss. I’m going to distract him, you’re going to find the file, and we’re going to meet back home after, no problems. You should be able to pick it from first page stuff without having to read the details

Samir: *sighs* We can do this?

Reece: We can do this

...

Captain: Oh, it’s you again

Reece: Yes sir, I’m Reece

Samir timed the closing of the records room door for when Reece shut the office door. The records room was larger that he thought but didn’t appear to be too disorganised. Now, if he was a cop who thought murders were bear attacks, where would he put the file?

...

Captain: I hope you didn’t think I was out of line this morning. As sheriff I'm supposed to... extend courtesy to the citizens here

Reece: Seemed to me like you were just making sure no one was damaging the property, for which me and my boyfriend are extremely grateful

Captain: Did you bring a copy of the deed? To prove you have a right to be there?

Reece: Did I- why yes, I did, hold on a second

Bear attacks would fall under the umbrella of animal attacks. But there was nothing labelled animal attacks. Instead from what he could see every case of an animal attack that the town had had was kept separate from one another. His parents were the only fatalities though. Most others just had people losing consciousness and being unable to say what happened.

...

Captain: I’m glad to see you’re true to your word

Reece: So is my boyfriend

Captain: *scoffs* he doesn’t seem to say very much

Reece: He doesn't need to. Besides, he’s had a hard life, remember

Captain: Right. Watcher I’ll never forget that scene, I can’t believe they managed to clean it all up to try put the place on the market. I would have just torn the whole thing down

Reece: It was… really bad then?

Captain: I had seen dead things before, growing up near the woods you do. But I hadn’t tossed my stomach like that before, nothing prepares you to see bodies like that for the first time

Reece: You said there were urban legends...

Captain: Sure. Go anyplace and you're bound to hear about one house where things went sideways, people got hurt, and rumours say you won't survive a trip inside. It so happens your house is that place in Moonwood Mill. The deaths... but that’s just memories now. Good luck renovating and selling the house

Reece: Oh, we’re not selling it

Captain: You’re... not selling it?

Reece: No. We’re going to make a home there

Captain: You mean *scoffs*… you two will be sticking around?

Reece: *carefully* Yes, Samir and I are both big nature fans. The woods here are lovely

Captain: They are but *sighs* nevermind kid. Look, you proved you can be in the house, I have work to do here. You should... you should leave now

Reece turns to go when he hears the sheriff clear his throat.

Captain: I hope you and your boyfriend aren’t doing anything too… intimate. Because if you are getting up to stuff when you’re still a teen, he will be held responsible in the eyes of the law. We take protection of minors seriously here

Reece struggles not to swing for him. How dare he talk about looking after minors when he'd been so insensitve to Samir, who was only 5 when it all happened. He took a deep breath, and chose his next words carefully

Reece: He is a teen himself Sheriff, and I turn 18 tomorrow... but thank you for your concern you... clearly take your job seriously

Back at home...

Samir: I found the file. It was labelled so I didn't have to look in it. Were you okay

Reece: Piece of cake. Apart from it seeming like he would be a lot happier if we left town

Samir: What did he say

Reece: When he implied we needed to sell the house or when he implied he would arrest you if we had woohoo

Samir: Jerk. Almost makes me want to bend you over the table just to spite him

Reece: I mean you could and I would endorse such action

Samir looks sternly at Reece.

Reece: *sighs deeply* But I can't get off until my birthday, I know

Samir pulls Reece close and kisses him on the forehead before the two turn their attention back to the file in front of them.

Reece: Okay, you ready

Samir: Yeah just... maybe read in your head... please

Reece: You take care of me, I take care of you

Report of first officer on scene: Sheriff Giles. The station had a call mid-morning from a woman out on a run. She said she saw the door at the Hadji house was knocked in. She told me she approached the property but got a "weird feeling" so decided to call me instead of heading inside. I left Deputy Greenway manning the station and I went over there. I sent her on her way and approached the house. The door was completely detached and the doorframe was splintered. The smell hit you before you could even see inside the house, it's a good thing the woman didn't get closer. My late father used to hunt the wild boar in the area. He would drain the carcass of blood in our backyard before cutting up his kill, the smell put me back there.

Reece: Okay this bit is just saying a Sheriff Giles was first on scene

Samir nods, indicating Reece should keep reading to himself.

Upon entering the property it was clear that there were the remains of two bodies amongst the wreckage, most likely the property owners Othman and Nadia Hadji. Around the body I assumed to be Nadia were chunks of flesh leaving gaping wounds in her back, enough gone to see bone. I'm sorry to say Othman was in several pieces, and the blood pools around him appeared to have been walked through. However it had likely been some hours since the attack, and alongside the main tracks were small tracks, most likely from investigating animals. The larger tracks weren't clear enough to place. Most of the household furniture in that main area had been broken and touched by blood spatter. I looked up and there was even some on the roof, figured whatever did it got mad. I called in to the station then to alert my Greenway to the situation. I told him I would require camera equipment first off, and that he should bring the town doctor with him because we had bodies to process. Poor bloke was silent for the longest time, probably figured all he’d be doing in a small town like this would be parking tickets.

Reece: *softly* Samir... I didn't know

Samir: *clears throat* anything strange yet

Reece: Seems like the sheriff then thought Greenway was not cut out for something like this

Samir: He had kind eyes that sheriff. Giles I think he said he was

Reece: You're right, that's what it says

Reece gave Samir’s hand a reassuring squeeze and carried on reading.

Once the lads arrived, I set about taking photos of everything I could. The doctor wondered about Samir but whatever did this likely dragged him off, the boy was tiny and would be easy prey for something that took down his parents. I figured if anything needed following up on, we should have original pictures. Sure the scene had clearly been contaminated by wildlife, but the higher powers would want evidence. I had moved on from photos of the bodies and was photographing the door, well what was left of the door, when the doctor said the strangest thing. He said the young Hadji boy was under his mother, and that he had a pulse? I had hoped that if Samir wasn't dead then at least he wasn't in the house when the attack occurred. No such luck. Together, the doctor and I, we shifted Nadia’s body as carefully as we could. Under her it was clear Samir had been torn, the doctor said it looked like the same kind of marks that were on his parents. It was a miracle he was still alive, I know not all the blood was his but those cuts on his chest looked deep, I was sure he didn't have long.

Reece: Your mother… you were stuck under her

Samir: I mean… I can’t remember much of that, I think I’d been in and out of consciousness for too long to take stock of anything *sighs* has it mentioned Greenway again

Reece: Yeah, down here, hold on

I called out to Greenway who had been tasked with taking pictures of the outside damage and setting up a cordon. The doctor said we had to get the boy to a hospital, that the local clinic might not be enough. I instructed Greenway to call for a helicopter but upon entering the house and seeing the bloodied boy squirming he… contaminated the scene. The helicopter arrived and I helped the doctor carry Samir, who was now crying and trying to push off the material stopping the bleeding. When he was off safe I had Greenway inform the local social worker while I continued cataloguing evidence alone. He contaminated the scene once, I wasn't about to let him lose his insides again. Still can't get the boys wild eyes out of my head though, that poor kid's all alone now.

Reece: This bit makes it sound like… you nearly died

Samir: *shrugs* That’s true. They said…

Reece waits patiently while Samir gets his words sorted in his head

Samir: They said ommi’s weight on my chest stemmed the blood enough to stop me bleeding out. It’s... not exactly the best pillow talk you know

Reece: I’m so sorry

Samir: *sniffs* Is there anything else in there

Reece: Yeah umm... Coroner’s reports, photocopies of pictures that I do not want to look at right now. Here we go, sheriff’s concluding statement. I guess that's kind of like an inquest

I have talked to the doctor and the local rangers. It seems clear to us that no man committed this crime. The violence was too severe, and too random, to have thought behind it. Doctor determined the victims suffered claw and bite marks, had to be a large predator. I inquired if the damage could have been done with tools, a butcher knife or scythe or something, watcher knows there are enough amateur hunters in the area. Doctor could see no evidence to support the conclusion that instruments were used though. With that knowledge I have determined the most likely culprit was a rogue bear, no other predators would have the strength to smash the door in such a fashion. I know the rangers doubt a bear would wander inside a house but agree bears can hunt down prey. This time the prey was just our citizens. Greenway is keen to support this conclusion, saying he had seen bear attacks like this before-

Reece: Wait, that’s not right

Samir: What isn’t?

Reece: When I was in distracting Captain... he said he’d never seen anything like that crime scene before

Samir: Yeah. That's what he said when I reminded him he vomited

Reece: But in here it says he told the old sheriff he had seen bear attacks that looked the same

Samir: *sighs* Thank the watcher for you blondie, I knew you’d find something. I know sheriff Giles thought it couldn’t have been a person but it must have been. I mean I can't imagine Greenway lying to protect a rogue bear

Reece closes the file, putting it back on the table. He hold Samir's hand, tracing patterns on the back with his other.

Reece: I just wish I could go back and comfort you. Samir you must have been so scared

Samir holds Reece's hand to his mouth and kisses it softly.

Samir: Pretty sure I wouldn’t have been in the mood to humour a talkative 3 year old, even one as cute as you

He puts his arm around Reece who snuggles closer.

Reece: You knows what I mean. I’m so glad you survived it

Samir smiles, kissing Reece on the forehead again.

Samir: Yeah, I’m pretty glad I survived it too. Now, good boys that find leads deserve rewards

Reece: So you’ll let us-

Samir: Go to the romance festival

Reece: *pouts* well that’s a good second option I guess

Reece: This tea tastes good

Samir: What’s in it

Reece: I don’t really know. It can’t have any alcohol since it’s a free for all

While Reece continues to speculate what might make the drinks, and themselves, glow Samir took a moment to relax. The past would be solved eventually, tonight he just wanted to be in the moment with the guy he loved. When Reece declared his intention of raiding the gardens for their own stock Samir took the opportunity to approach the romance guru. He didn't believe much in superstitions and fortune tellers but when in Rome.

After the guru assured him the future was bright Samir approached Reece’s mum who was here selling some of her lower level work.

Samir: *clears throat* Reece’s birthday?

Kayleigh: Don’t worry. Harvey and I figured you two will probably want your space tomorrow, I promise you won’t get swarmed by every Foster in the save

Samir: *chuckles* thanks. Umm… Monday... not busy... if you…

Kayleigh: Say no more, we will be there! Will we get to meet your mum and brother

Samir: Umm… crowds are…

Kayleigh: I understand, Keira is just the same. But Harvey and I would love to meet them sometime if you can arrange it, since the two of you are living together and all

Reece: What were you talking to mum about

Samir: Oh I said she and your family should come over on Monday

Reece: You? Inviting people over? People plural?

Samir: I know your family are close and I don’t want that to stop just because I can only tolerate people in small doses

Reece: Except me

Samir: Except you. I gladly have you in large doses

Reece: *gleefully* What a concidence, I enjoy your large doses

Samir: *smirks* Do you now?

Samir brushes Reece's hair behind his ear and leans in to whisper.

Samir: Imagine, a pretty blonde piece like you enjoying my "doses"... in you... on your-

Reece: *playfully* Excuse me Mr Hadji but that talk sounds rather forward and I’m under strict instructions not to get off until my birthday so unless you want me to fail you’ll need to dial it back

Samir moves back smiling proudly.

Samir: *chuckles* Good boy, you pass even if you are flushed, but I do love that colour on you. Let’s go get some food

Samir orders food for them, barely taking his eyes off Reece. When they sit down Samir begins to dig in happily before noticing that Reece is letting out sighs of frustration. Normally he enjoys those sounds, but that's when he's the cause of them.

Samir: Blondie, what are you doing

Reece: It’s these wooden things! How does anyone eat with them

Samir: The chopsticks? Relax, you’re a genius, you’ll figure it out

Reece: Charlie and Kaori make it look so easy!

Samir: Are you-

Reece: Yes! I’m stabbing the food to make it cooperate

Samir watches Reece as he attacks his food, and smiles. He's got most of the morning planned already but he does like running it over in his head to make sure he's thought of every variable.

The pair arrive home still glowing, but before they can sleep Samir has a gift.

Samir: I know there were a bunch of flowers at the festival, and many of them are more symbolic of love but… yellow is your favourite colour so I wanted to get you a chrysanthemum

Reece: Aww, I love it. I’m afraid I just got you the traditional rose

Samir: Hey blondie, I’ll happily take anything you give me

Reece: *giggles* normally I’m the one saying that

Samir: *chuckles* okay Mr smut for brains, time to go to sleep before you wind your self up

Reece: Do we have to boss?

Samir: Trust me, you are going to need your energy for tomorrow

Previous Part ... Next Part

#sims 4 #the sims 4 #the sims #Rotation8 #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #WoodsHousehold #SamirHadji #ReeceFoster #simblr #R0806

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garaksapprentice · 5 months

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In search of compostable clothing closures

Making clothes that are 97% biodegradable is surprisingly easy. Pick a natural fibre fabric, buy some 100% cotton or linen thread, and you're there. (You can even get 100% cotton overlocker thread - though you have to go searching for it.)

Those last few percent, though? That can be tough. One of the biggest offenders is closures. While there are plenty of clothes that don't need something to hold them shut, I confess I like having the option. Below is a round-up of various closures, and their compostability.

Note: for the purpose of this article, I'm treating metal closures as "compostable", in the sense that they're 1) easy to remove before you compost the rest of the object, and 2) infinitely reusable on other things, unless they break - at which point they're usually recyclable using our current commercial systems. And remember, re-using things that already exist is always preferable to buying new, "better" items.

Buckles/Rings

While less common than other closure methods, I find buckles, D-rings and O-rings are great when used in the right context. They're usually metal or plastic, neither of which are compostable - but metal will last practically forever, if it's good quality. Plastic tends to degrade over time, especially if exposed to the sun.

I find rings especially quick and easy to use, and a set of D-rings can give a very fine-tuned amount of tightening. My favourite belt uses two square D-rings instead of a buckle closure.

Buttons

The humble button, while ubiquitous now, took a while to catch on. Buttons as a common method of closure didn't become popular in Europe* until about the early 1300s, around the same time that the tailoring revolution[^] happened.

Nowadays, plastic is by far the most common material that buttons are made from. It's cheap and sturdy, but obviously it doesn't compost. So what are some alternatives?

Liz Haywood, a pattern maker who focuses on zero-waste designs, has thought a bit about this conundrum here. There's photos of several different DIY compostable and recycled buttons in her post.

For a completely compostable garment, wood, leather, horn, fabric, and thread buttons are your best bet. If, like most sensible people, you remove the buttons from something that's about to be worm food before you ditch it, the options expand considerably - metal, clay, recycled bottle caps, even glass buttons are all possible. You can have a lot of fun with making your own buttons - to match an outfit, or contrast with it, or maybe you'd like a different button for every buttonhole...

Another, related option is cufflinks - 18th century shirts often used cufflinks on the sleeves and one or two small thread buttons on the collar. That way one set of cufflinks could be used on multiple shirts, showing off a bit of wealth, while saving them from the (admittedly harsh) laundry practices of the day.

[*]: I have no doubt that buttons became popular in other parts of the world, too, but unfortunately I don't know much about it. Europe in the 14-15th century is my main area of study, mostly due to the fact that the historical re-enactment group that I'm a part of operates in that time period.

[^]: The tailoring revolution refers to the period where garments for the higher classes underwent a dramatic change in the way they were cut out. The very short version is, fashion garments shifted from primarily rectangular construction to more form-fitting, using the precursors of many standard cutting practices used today.

Elastic

While elastic isn't technically a closure, it's used that way in many different objects. Most elastic nowadays is made from polyester and synthetic rubber. No composting there.

But, all is not lost! You can now find elastics made of natural rubber and cotton! (I was quite impressed by this, to be honest. I thought I'd have to give up elastic for good.)

The downside, as is usual when you actually give a crap about the planet, is cost. You'll mostly only find it for sale online (Etsy has several options), and it can be more expensive (especially factoring in shipping). Prices on the compostable elastics I found were comparable to a mid-range polyester elastic at Spotlight (before shipping). I think that's actually pretty good, all things considered. (I don't trust the cheapest elastic, it loses its stretch ridiculously fast. A fact I discovered to my sorrow only after buying a 20m roll of it.)

As a bonus, supposedly natural rubber elastic lasts longer than synthetic elastics - this has been my experience with many natural vs synthetic things, but I haven't tested natural elastic specifically to know for sure.

The biggest downside here is the rubber - if you're dealing with a latex allergy, this is not the solution for you.

Hooks and Eyes

While these have fallen out of favour over the years, they do have their uses in a compostable closet. They're easy to buy, and easy to make if you can get hold of the wire - all you need is a set of needle-nose pliers.

Being metal, the hook/eye can be re-used until it breaks - which takes a while. Like buttons, they're easy to take off a garment and move to another one. Unlike buttons, they don't need a buttonhole - you can move both the hook and eye almost anywhere on a garment, really refining the fit of an item.

They are, however, somewhat limited in that application - hooks and eyes work best if they're under a small but constant amount of tension, pulling in opposite directions. I once tried to use hooks and eyes on a loose-fitting medieval tunic, and it just didn't work.

Laces and Ties

Before buttons became The Big Thing in medieval Europe (and for quite a few centuries after), laces and ties were the closure method du jour. Why did they stick around so long? The same reason pyjama pants often have a drawstring in them - they add adjustability to garments in a simple and easy to use (and create!) way. Stays and corsets are one of the most recognisable examples of this concept in action.

Lacing does work better on some things than others, but just about anywhere that you'd put elastic nowadays can likely use a drawstring instead. And there are some patterns (YouTube link) for adjustable garments that use lacing as an integral part of the design.

The main downside for me? They can be slow to use, and awkward, if you have difficulty with fine motor control. Mine is variable enough that I'll usually opt for a different closure, unless lacing or ties really is the best or only option.

Snaps

Confession: I adore snaps. They're fast and easy to use when my hands don't want to co-operate, and they can be wonderfully decorative as well as functional.

There are two general types - those you sew into place like you sew on hooks and eyes, and ones that are applied to the fabric using a press. The former takes more time to install, but can be replaced relatively easily if they stop working. The latter can technically be replaced, but it's a LOT harder and you risk damaging the fabric behind it while you try. They're also more likely to rip out of the fabric in the first place.

As for material, it's pretty much just metal and plastic (sometimes a combination). From a sustainability standpoint, metal is the better option - as long as you recycle it at the end of its life.

Zips

Zips are everywhere nowadays. They're easy to use, but can be hard to replace when they break. Putting them in correctly isn't always a cake-walk either. And in terms of compostability, the answer is definitely "no".

The vast majority of zippers on the market use a polyester or poly-cotton tape, with plastic or metal teeth set into it, and plastic or metal tabs and pulls. Because of the mix of materials, and the size of a typical zip, most municipal waste streams can't take them for recycling. However, textile recyclers` such as Upparel usually take zips (and the things they're attached to!).

I also found a couple of different manufacturers creating zips out of post-consumer recycled materials - a pleasant surprise, and a strong move towards closing waste streams.

[`]: Clothing retailers are increasingly taking responsibility for their part in reducing waste by offering recycling programs through their stores. Recycling Near You and Frankie list some of the major programs in Australia, though it's worth noting that most of those listed only want whole textiles or large pieces - to my knowledge, Upparel is the only place that will take scraps, broken textiles, and related.

If I've missed a closure type, or you know of places selling compostable or truly recyclable versions of any of the above, I would love to hear about it. While I'm (currently) a far less prolific sewist than the blog name implies, I want to be deliberate and thoughtful in my sewing choices going forward.

Also, as a last random thought, I wonder if anyone has started making bioplastic versions of any of the above? *Wanders off to do some research...*

Originally published at my blog: https://garaksapprentice.blogspot.com/2023/09/in-search-of-compostable-closures.html

#sewing #produce no waste #use and value renewable resources

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samglyph · 2 years

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Three’s a Crowd Scene #1

A little intro into my Parker “lives” au for some context onto how everything begins. I’m not gonna write a whole fic for this, mainly because it’s mostly just a rewrite of the show and it would take forever and I don’t have the spoons nor the time for that, but if you want to send me asks/prompts with this au in mind OR if you want to take this idea and write something yourself, feel free (and share with me if you do!) writing may be a bit sloppy because i am writing these bits pretty quickly. Nothing I post will be in chronological order.

(also yes this is mainly just based on the original dialogue, I’m telling you it’s not that drastic of an difference, it’s literally just episode 1 but Parker is here also.)

A man awoke in darkness, scared and confused.

“Where am I? What’s happened?” He called out, though he didn’t know who would hear him.

“Don’t you remember?” A gentle voice replied. Something about it was strange, like the noise was coming from… inside his head, but the voice rang clear as a bell, and he jumped slightly.

“Who are you?”

“Who am I?” The voice repeated, “I’m a friend. The best friend you have right now… the only friend you have right now-“

“Arthur!” A second voice rang in his head, this one familiar, though his head felt so scrambled that he couldn’t place it. “Arthur, listen to me, it’s lying to you, it’s me. It’s Peter, it’s your partner, it’s Parker,”

“Quiet,” the first voice growled, though Arthur thought he heard a tinge of surprise in the word.

“Parker? I don’t… remember…” Arthur said, and he must be Arthur if this other voice, this Parker was so adamant about it.

“Please, Arthur, we’re in the office, tell me what you see,” Parker was much more frantic than the other voice. Afraid. Much more in line with what Arthur was feeling in the moment, and his breath caught in his chest as he tried to respond.

“I can’t… I can’t see anything. Why can’t I see anything?”

“If you had let me finish,” the other voice, and Arthur could tell that if he could see them they would be sneering, “I would’ve gotten to that.”

“What?”

“I have your eyes, Arthur, and I need you to get something for me.”

“My- how can you have my eyes?”

“Doesn’t matter, on the floor by your feet, there’s something you dropped.” Arthur started to lean down when the second voice called out again.

“Arthur, why are you listening to him?” It said, desperately. “Don’t do anything he tells you too, he’s evil.”

“I can’t remember anything, I barely remember you or my own name,” his voice shook, “maybe- maybe this will help. Doing what he says.” Parker didn’t respond.

Arthur obeyed as the mysterious voice told him to pick up the object.

“Now turn and walk towards your desk.” Arthur obeyed to the sound of Parker’s grumbling. Arthur, caught up in the emotion of what was happening, failed to heed the voice telling him to stop, tripping over a large object laying across the floor. He hit the wood hard, eyes snapping in the direction of what caused his fall.

“I said stop, friend!” The word friend held a certain sort of reeled in malice that filled Arthur with even more unease. Though he didn’t have time to focus on it, instead reaching for what he had fallen over.

“I just tripped over something… what is this… it feels…. like….”

“It doesn’t matter,” came the response in unison from the voices in his head. Arthur swallowed.

“It feels like a body, oh God-“

“It is a body, Arthur,” the mystery voice piped up, sounding gleeful and threatening all at once.

“Shut up-“ Parker hissed.

“It’s your partner’s body. Peter Yang, based on the nameplate by the door, though… I’m guessing he tends to go by a nickname. ”

“I can’t- I can’t-”

“Arthur,” Parker, Peter, said, “breathe for me. I don’t know what’s going on but I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Those words were less than comforting from the ghost of a man he could barely remember.

“How do I know you’re not both lying to me, how do I know this isn’t some trick.”

“It’s not a trick, friend,” said the first voice, “But I need you to get to the desk and look through that book.”

Arthur did as he was told and began to flip through. He placed the book back down again when the voice seemingly got what it wanted. Or didn’t. It wasn’t clear.

“Did you learn anything?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know,” the stranger sighed. “I don’t know why someone gave you this book, Arthur but in opening it you’ve cursed yourself.”

“No shit,” Peter piped up.

“Cursed my…”

“Self and in a manner of speaking me as well. We’re bound.”

“Bound, how?”

“I’m trapped inside you. I can see through your eyes and… as far as I can tell… I control nothing else. And it seems Mr.Yang’s soul has managed to join in as well, though I have no idea how.”

“But I can hear you.”

“Yes, well, I guess sharing a body means that we share a mind.”

“What are you?” Peter demanded.

“What am I? Let’s save that for now. The simpler question for now is who are you, Arthur?”

“You told me who I am…”

“I mean who are you to have received this book. As for who you are, I know that because it’s written on the door to your office; Arthur Lester and Peter Yang Private Investigative Services. It’s on the open door.”

“And my partner….”

“Is Peter Yang, I assume. He did call out your name in retrospect.”

“You… you called out my name?” Arthur directed his question at the other voice, softly, but Parker didn’t answer, letting the stranger answer.

“Yes… you dropped the book and turned to him. He called out your name and then…”

“And then what?”

“And then he died.”

“I didn’t just die, you lying son of a bitch.”

“Oh, really, Peter?” The voice said, sounding put upon. “You want to tell Arthur how you came to be lying dead on the floor of your office. I can see some bruises around that neck of yours, and-”

“Arthur,” Parker spoke to him again, “Please don’t listen to this- this- this monster. I know it wasn’t you, it wasn’t your fault, he was in control.” Arthur felt himself becoming more and more unsteady as thoughts pushed their way to the surface of his subconscious.

“It doesn’t matter,” the entity said softly, in his saccharine tone that was becoming less and less sweet as they continued speaking. “I’m unsure how Peter here ended up inside your head but I know that as soon as you opened that book we were bound together, for better or worse, and I need you to stop panicking and do as I say. And I’m not in control of your body, Arthur. I have no wish to be in control of your body. Now- the door to your office is open.”

“What?”

“The door. It’s open. Meaning anyone could simply peek in and see your dead partner lying on the floor.”

“I’m not dead,” Peter grumbled, though it was a weak argument. The voice laughed, low and cold.

“Oh, I’m afraid you very much are, friend.”

“Don’t call me friend, you fucking bastard-”

“Please- please stop,” Arthur said, raising a hand to his face. “I just- I will close the door, this is just too much and I can’t think with you both shouting like that.”

“Do you need a moment to compose yourself?”

“Arthur…” Peter said softly, “There’s a piano in the office. We brought it in last year for you to play. Close,” he took a deep breath, as if accepting something. “Close the door first and then maybe play something. That always helps you calm down.” The stranger hummed.

“Sounds as promising as anything else, go on, Arthur the Piano is to your right.”

“Alright,” Arthur said, and did as he was told.

The keys felt familiar under his finger tips. The melody came naturally, and as he played he could feel his heartbeat slowing and a modicum of sanity returning. He was Arthur Lester. Private Investigator. Peter Yang’s partner. Peter Yang who was now lying dead on the floor, but whose voice was still ringling clearly in his head.

“Well. Now look at that. Don’t you feel a whole lot better too?” The stranger murmured.

“A little bit, yes. I.. also remember things. I remember opening that book. I remember hearing a voice, then turning to Peter and then…”

“You remember killing him.”

“You didn’t kill me, Arthur, it wasn’t you, I’m telling you.”

“How could it not be him?” The stranger had no physical form, not that Arthur could see, but he got the distinct impression that if he did he would be shrugging. “It may have been an accident, but how could it have been me, Peter? I don’t control Mr.Lester’s body or movements. He still has most of his faculties. I saw the whole thing, of course, but blame doesn’t really matter at this point.. If somebody finds out that it was you, all three of us will be in trouble, but mostly you. So what do we have to do first, Arthur?”

Arthur froze as there was a knock on the door.

“Arthur, it’s okay. Relax. We’re in this together. Tell me. Do you remember anything else?”

“I remember Peter was my best friend and–”

“About who might be here.”

“Right. No.. Maybe… Yes. There was an appointment. A widower. Mrs… umm.”

“That appointment isn’t until tomorrow, Arthur.” Parker chimed in.

“What?” Arthur asked, but the entity pressed on.

“It doesn’t matter who it is, I see a closet in the corner. Do you think it’s empty?”

“Yes, it is.”

“You’re going to have to move Peter in there.”

“Excuse me?” Peter gasped in Arthur’s mind. “Come on, we can think about this, we can come up with an alibi, you should absolutely not shove me in a closet, that will be incredibly incriminating if they find the body-” Arthur cut Parker off.

“Is there any blood?”

“Arthur!”

“No. Call out. Just tell whoever it is you’ll be a minute.”

“Sorry! I’m just in the middle of something. I’ll be just a few seconds, I apologize.”

“I said a minute.”

“I mean a minute! Sorry!”

“Drag the body to the right of you, no other right. Now straight back. Good. The closet is already ajar, just kick it a little bit. There. Now stand the body upright. Good.”

“Oh I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe you’re shoving me in a closet.”

“I will get you later, Parker, I promise, we just need to deal with this now,” Arthur assured as he blindly maneuvered his friend’s corpse into the empty space and carefully closed the door.

“Follow the left wall with your hand. The door is right there. Wait!” The stranger almost yelled.

“What?” Arthur and Parker asked at once, Arthur concerned and Parker still raging.

“Do you have a gun?”

“Of course.”

“If whoever it is starts asking too many questions or goes to that closet I’ll let you know. Then you use it.”

“Arthur, do not kill whoever is at the door,” Parker said firmly, “This was not your fault and we do not need to resort to anything drastic.”

“Well, we’ll see about that. Open the door.” Arthur reached out and turned the knob, swinging open the door to the hall.

“There is no one here,” the stranger sounded confused.

“Oh, thank God,” Parker breathed out.

“Perhaps they got tired of waiting?”

“We’ll see.”

#malevolent #malevolent fanfic #peter yang #parker yang #arthur lester #john doe #arthur malevolent #john malevolent #three’s a crowd

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therulerofallpotatos · 1 year

Text

Wyler Fanfiction Rec List Part 2

For @ourloveisdahliaoh, here’s part 2 of that rec list I said I’d make.

My Monster by Wyler4Lifer

Summary: None

Words: 3,721 Chapters: 2/? Rated: E

There’s no summary for this fic and it breaks my heart that it might be overlooked because it is so much fun. I’ve talked about how delightful this fic is to my friends irl and how much fun it is to see Gomez pick up himself a pet hyde and Wednesday to find Tyler fucking Galpin in her house being dressed like a purse dog by her father who is excited about his new beast. The family meeting and harboring Tyler is so good.

Who is in Control? by green_writer

Summary: “Please, flattery will get you nowhere,” Wednesday says, holding her ground as he stalks towards her.

Tyler grips her lapels, jostling her roughly forward. She watches his face, the Hyde lurking just underneath the surface, wonders how much control he has, how much of the boy she met at the Weathervane is still there. She’s reminded of the last time he got up in her face like this, gloating about his kills at the Sherriff’s office. The rage that his little monologue had inspired deep in her gut. That he could deceive her so easily, not just covering his own tracks but misguiding her towards a wholehearted conviction that Xavier was the Hyde. She had felt stupid and small and entirely disgusted with herself. He would have to pay.

----

What if Wednesday, not Enid, had gone against Tyler in the woods in episode 8?

Or - How to Discipline Your Hyde 101.

Words: 10,781 Chapters: 3/3 Rated: E

I’m sorry. Did you say smut? Because this is 3 chapters full of Wednesday fucking Tyler from the cockroach scene onwards. green_writer understood the fucking assignment. 100/10. Will read again.

Friendly Neighborhood Phantom by ThatOneAntiHero

Summary: Strange murders, a mysterious ghost boy, a missing teenager, and numerous suspects.

Maybe Wednesday Addams was going to stay at Nevermore longer than she expected.

Words: 8,447 Chapters: 3/? Rated: M

I swear i felt like the three spidermen meme when i saw this. I had just rediscovered “Sex with a ghost” and had thought of my own haunting au and then i read this and i’m so happy. It’s dead amnesiac tyler investigating with Wednesday who can see him and it’s amazing. I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for the next chapter.

Kiss Me Before It’s Too Late by JHoeUNeed2Stop

Summary: Tyler & Wednesday's last encounter told differently.

More spicy.

Words: 2,090 Chapters: 1/1 Rated: M

It’s another cockroach scene where Enid doesn’t cockblock and I am having such a good time with each and every one of them. JHoe is making the world a better place.

my unconquerable soul by melpomenemuse

Summary: “Who is your master?” she asks dispassionately.

Wednesday doesn’t care who Tyler’s master is. An objective part of her does, the one that wants a satisfactory conclusion to her novel, but the only thing she cares about right now is this: Tyler has a master.

And it isn’t her.

Or: an insight into Wednesday and Tyler’s relationship through the season finale and post Season 1.

Words: 16,983 Chapters: 13/? Rated: M

The amount of want between these two is delicious. Wednesday seething at the idea that Laurel touched him first is just *chef’s kiss*

Tipsy Truth Telling by Realmermaid333

Summary: Wednesday never thought she’d get drunk, she thought being drunk was for immature fools who couldn’t control themselves— that was until she went to Yoko’s party.

Words: 2,675 Chapters: 1/1 Rated: T

This is just fun. It’s so much fun. @realmermaid333 is such a gift and I’m so happy I got the privilege of encouraging this in the server. Drunk Wednesday is exactly what I need to brighten my day with some silly little low stakes shenanigans.

Finding Dr. Jekyll by its2014again

Summary: “A Hyde is just a puppet, their mind brainwashed by the puppet-master. To reverse the damage, you have to delve into their subconscious. You have to find the Jekyll beneath the Hyde."

After 30 days in prison, Tyler still won't talk. He won't talk to his father, to the doctors, or to his therapist. Maybe this has something to do with being chained to a chair - or maybe it's because the only person he will speak to... is Wednesday.

Words: 8,154 Chapters: 5/? Rated: NR

Riddles and brainwashing and attraction oh my! The latest chapter had me on the edge of my seat and i highly recommend you all read this fic to see exactly what I mean

a crack run down right the front of me by Morbidmuch

Summary: Tyler's teeth are bright in his paint-splattered face.

“Red looks good on you.”Wednesday doesn't know what to reply when he says things like that: things like I mean it, Wednesday, you look beautiful and I knew there was a reason I liked you. It's all too much and the stone walls protecting her center quiver. Traitors.

Words: 2,194 Chapters: 1/1 Rated: T

what a wonderful dance au and there’s talking and emotions and Wednesday being Wednesday.

the simulation we’re dreaming in by angelconstellations

Summary: If the blood-paint hadn't rained and the dance had continued...

Set during ep 4. What might have happened if the prank didn't happen and Wednesday didn't have her vision to go after Eugene.

Words: 1,789 Chapters: 1/1 Rated: T

a what if they actually finished their date at the dance au and i love it to pieces.

Ennui vs. Wednesday Addams by Klyson

Summary: Tyler had always known he was better than everyone else. He couldn’t make it a reality yet, but someday he’d get out of this backwater hellhole called Jericho and make himself great.

His mother’s death throws a bit of a wrench in his plans, and so does the beast he can morph into and the woman who dares call herself his “master”. She will die for that… someday. Until then, though, at least she isn’t boring.

And then Wednesday Addams comes barreling into his life.

Tyler is a sociopath or something and Wednesday is much more interesting than Laurel Gates.

Words: 15,821 Chapters: 3/6 Rated: E

This is one of my absolute favorites. Seeing Tyler growing up and meeting Wednesday? I love leaning more into the “sociopath finds love” plot. it’s a favorite au of mine.

#wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday fanfic #tyler galpin #wyler #weyler #there will be a part 3 #there's a lot of fic to go through

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evelhak · 1 year

Note

Since you were so gracious to give me some asks, I shall do the same! Artists asks: 2, 7, 19, 26, and also 30. ^__^

Always happy to hear from you and to know more about you!

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)?

I think it's the easiest to draw someone facing left. That one usually takes the least amount of redrawing.

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

Pottery is something I feel very drawn to, as well as glass blowing. I don't have the physical requirements to become good at it but I'd like to try some time.

19. Favourite inanimate object to draw

I'm stuck between flowers and books. I'm so basic.

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended?

Wow, what a question. Nothing came to mind from the art I have on Tumblr, so I had to look for something I haven't posted.

Someone interpreted this as your typical fantasy character with fire powers. It's SO far from that, actually. The fire is symbolic, because this character plays with fire metaphorically, and because what she's holding in her hands can symbolically be burning for better or worse, and also because she is blinded by magic in the story, although it's more the lack of it than the thing itself, and because she's seeing what she wants to see.

I guess it's not that "wild", but I couldn't think of anything else.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated?

I'm going to have to go with writing for this one, because sometimes I can't believe how much more interaction smut fics get on AO3 than long fics like mine that are basically like another season of the story (with a different focus or angle, but still).

I get that another reason why I'm never going to get that many readers is because I'm pretty much never posting at the height of a fandom's interest, because I need to mull things over for months after the series ends, and I never create anything while the original story is incomplete, so I'm usually only starting when the peak interest for a series is already going down, and my fan works tend to require a bit more of an attention span than the average fan seems to have for one thing. Even my She-Ra comics were a bit late for the fandom, although they are of a much more readable length than my fics, so I assume that's why they got relatively popular. I guess comic form is easier to digest for a lot of people, too.

Anyway, I think if I have to pick the fics I'm the saddest that many people haven't read them, they are my retellings.

I'm really proud of the way I basically paraphrased the whole Into The Woods to tell a KnB story! I don't understand how most people's brain doesn't light up with all the good hormones from wordplay like this! I was SO high, writing this.

I'm also really fond of this one, which was inspired by the Romance of Silence. Where are all the people who love intertextuality, hiding??

Yes, I understand another reason why people aren't into these stories is that they are so niche. That's always going to be my curse too, because I love the interaction of specific and general, but I love to go about it by combining things that are niche and don't usually go together. Not because they are niche or rarely combined, it just happens, I can't help but be drawn to specific concepts in a specific thing and then finding another equally specific thing with compatible concepts that send me right into hyperfocus, and I can't leave them untouched, I have to create something new from the interaction of those separate elements, because the abstract connections just sing to me. But I guess there's always the hope that when someone whose niche my stories perfectly fit into, finds them, then they are going to really love them. And honestly, I'd rather have one person to whom they are the perfect fit, than a hundred who thought they were "okay".

Also, I know these stories don't work very well unless you read the whole fic series, though I guess Kuroko's Fairytale makes more sense, and I tried to frame it like you could read it as a standalone, since I think technically you can, but you're probably still going to be very confused at some parts.

#art #knb #TOTverse #into the woods #romance of silence

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littlespace-imagines · 1 year

Text

Broken Dreams pt. 3

Warning Pt.1 Pt.2

Pairing: Cg!Jason the Toymaker × little reader

Contains: very dark, abusive themes, forced

Littlespace, kidnapping, toxic cg/| dynamic, unhealthy relationships, humiliation as punishment, time confusion

*This is very different from my regular stories on this account, please exercise caution*

**Ageregression and Littlespace will never be sexualized on this blog**

It was finally the weekend, I had work on Monday and all my errands for the week had been completed so I was finally able to stay in and just relax. I decided to grab a glass of wine and read a bit, as I was in the kitchen preparing my charcuterie board of fruit, cheese, and crackers I heard my phone ding. I went to check it and saw it was only a notification one of my friends had posted something to their story I briefly considered messaging them before deciding that I deserved some time by myself and clicked my phone off, then as I sat down in my comfiest pajamas and opened my book the plush bunny caught my eye, I grabbed it off the table and moved it to the couch where I felt it would be a bit more comfy.

As I sipped my wine and red I could feel myself getting sleepier and sleepier,

"This wine must be stronger than I thought." I thought aloud before deciding to take a nap, this is my relaxing day after all so surely catching up on missed sleep counts as relaxing, I chug what's left of my wine and make my way to the bedroom. It wasn't long before I was drifting off to sleep.

I woke up with a big stretch, I noticed that there was no light coming in through my blinds. I got up and made my way into my living room and turning on the lights, I saw my book, the remains of the cheese and fruit and empty wine glass. I gather these objects to put them where they go, it's at this moment that my ears pick up on a low noise.

I go as silent as possible trying to listen.

What is that?

It sounds so odd, there's music and a voice but they don't go together.

It's not a song.

I walked back towards where the noise was coming from, I freeze at my bedroom door and then my blood goes cold.

I never shut my bedroom door.

I left it open.

Someone else shut my door.

My hand flies up to my mouth as I clamp my hand over it I slowly back away from the door doing my best to not make a single noise. I slowly make my way into the kitchen to get my keys only to find them missing, so I grab a hoodie and slip on my shoes before opening my front door and running out not caring if it alerted the person, I ran towards the woods just behind my apartment complex, it's not long before I can hear them chasing me, maniacal laughter and gasping breaths from behind me feel my ears as I run. Tears slipping down my face in panic.

THUD

I was caught and pushed down, my whole body hurt, my knees were skinned and bleeding, my captor rolled me over onto my back and I stared up at him in disbelief, he was wearing a mask and hoodie and I couldn't find any features on his face,

"I've got you now." He says before pulling his fist back, I brace for impact fearing the worse.

"No!" I scream and sit up, I wait to be hit or something but it never happens, I open my eyes to find myself in my bedroom again, this time there's a bit of light pouring from my blinds, I jump out of bed and run crying into my living room before collapsing on the floor, I hadn't had a nightmare that vivid since I was a child.

#littlespace fanfiction #x little!reader #xlittle!reader #little!reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x little!reader #creepypasta x y/n #jason the toymaker x reader #jason the toymaker #jeff the killer x reader #eyeless jack headcanon #slenderman x reader #eyeless jack x reader

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crownedcroweprince · 2 years

Text

Prompt #1: Cross

Character: Grimm Porcelain

cross

noun

noun: cross; plural noun: crosses

1. a mark, object, or figure formed by two short intersecting lines or pieces (+ or ×)."cut a cross in the bark with a sharp knife"

a cross (×) used to show that something is incorrect or unsatisfactory.

a cross-shaped decoration awarded for personal valor or indicating rank in some orders of knighthood."the Military Cross"

the constellation Southern Cross.singular proper noun: Cross; plural noun: the Cross

2. an upright post with a transverse bar, as used in antiquity for crucifixion.

the cross on which Jesus was crucified.noun: Cross; plural noun: the Cross"the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross"

a cross, or a representation of it, as an emblem of Christianity."she wore a cross around her neck"

short for sign of the cross (see sign).

a staff surmounted by a cross carried in religious processions.

something unavoidable that has to be endured."she's just a cross we have to bear"

There's a wet sound of tearing, and then the sound of flesh hardening. A sickening, tinkling, noise. Like shattering porcelain or glass as it dances across the floor. But it dances across their chest. White blood pouring out of the wound instead of healthy read blood. The voidsent before them screeching and cackling as they reel at the damage to their person.

No words escape from the maw before them, and they take a deep breath in, staring at that which caused them such damage before readying their next spell. And explosion of light magic takes out the upper half of the monster they sought. The corpse, falls unceremoniously to the ground. The wings giving a few last electric twitches. They huff and puff, trying futilely to heal their wounds. The skin doesn't soften with their magic, only growing more stiff the more they try to reverse the gashes on their person. Blood loss being a worry that might do them in. The smell of carcass hits them. Dark and sweet. Reviling and relieving. The wander towards it painstakingly.

The pause. A chunk of meat in their hand. Slick with void blood, dripping wet from their pale hand. Disgust roils about in their stomach, hand shaking with both hunger and fear. Tears prick at their eyes. A final glance around them is given before the impulse to bite into the flesh takes over. Swallowing hard, they choke down the meat from the enemy they felled. No going back now. Handful after handful they swallow it down. It's sweet and disgusting but the pain eases away, and the bleeding stops. The wound starts to heal, but leaves a deep and stiff scar. Something brittle that needs to be filled. The first of many injuries they'll need to learn how to tend to survive. Blood soaked and tear stained, they wipe their face off into their white sleeves, soaking them red with a corrupted life passed. They make no sound as they pick up their cane, and give another look about the verdant clearing. There's little left of the voidsent they were tasked with taking care of, but they can't return to the conjurers guild like this. Not anymore. There's something wrong with them that only seems to be quelled with darker aether something to soothe their own tipping further and further into the light. They blink the last of their tears away. Suddenly tired and longing for sleep, they shamble through the woods to find some hovel or nook of a tree to rest in. They'd figure out how to bear this cross another time. For now, they need to sleep for the battles ahead. With themself, and the monsters they hunt.

#ffxivwrite2022 #Grimm Porcelain

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chetbakeralmostblue · 2 years

Note

Top 5 favourite designs seen online (of what? idk anything)

this is a great question anon thank you for giving me a bit of freedom with this (and shout-out to @toewsy for saving this ask from being all about watches). i took this possibly way more seriously than what was called for

muji wall-mounted cd player

i am a self-proclaimed muji stan and have yearned for this for years and the sad fact of the matter is that i simply do not listen to cds often enough to justify it. but i absolutely love the design, i love the aesthetic, i love the way it--like record players that require use of headphones--necessitates that the listener sit still

2. olivetti lettera 35 typewriter

this is one of 2 objects that i wish i could be reborn as (the other being an OP-1 synthesizer). i don't own a typewriter but i love thinking about them in the context of indexicality, materiality, impermanence, etc., and frankly this one is just one of the most beautiful i've ever seen

3. HMM mugr

thanks to my wonderful partner i actually have the black mug and it is just soooo gorgeous and beautifully made--feels incredible to hold and drink out of and is so thoughtfully designed. by far my favorite mug

4. this incredible house in british columbia

i actually first saw this house in a tumblr post and i have not known peace since. tbh i don't see as much of the "hobbit" style in it, but the craftsman and art nouveau influences are so incredible--this house to me is a perfect embodiment of "god is in the details." plus i love wood. like that sounds like such a silly thing to say but i fucking love wood

5. a genuine toss-up between koss porta pros and merippa house slippers

i really tried to pick between these 2 objects and i simply could not. i'm fortunate to own both and they're examples of some of the best-designed--and also favorite--objects i have. the porta pros are extremely straightforward, the ones i have don't have a mic and there is no noise cancellation, but imo the sound quality is fantastic, and they also look incredible if you're into a little design throwback. you can also get ear pads in a lot of different fun colors. and the house slippers are just superbly well-made and user-friendly. to me these are both buy it for life purchases

#ask games #anon

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sallertiacallidus · 1 year

Text

Tagged by @grimalkinsquill! (and also @purrfectlypunny before I could finish it on the first tag, lol [I had to go to sleep :p])

Rules: Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or a few), and share it! Then tag people! (If you don't have 10, that's okee! Just post what you can! <3)

Tagging: @applebearly, @coracries, @amystarsmith (if y’all want to), and, uhhhhhhhh, anyone else who feels like it?

It’s Just… I Wish Someone Would Listen - Chapter 2

And whoever that person was, couldn’t be farther from who Félix was now. He remembered vestiges. Of not having as many heavy, paralyzing, thoughts. Of being able to approach others out of his own volition. Of talking. Then a giant fog of uneasiness and unsafety, then his throat getting more and more clogged up as the years went on.

Rumpus, Ruin, and a Third One

“Cut it out, Knick!” he snarled to the goblin smacking his head against the wood. “Denting your thick skull won’t help us.” He knocked his own head for emphasis. “We gotta think.”

“Yeah!” Knick threw hands. “Because thinking has always helped the captain! Thinking has never disappointed the Goblin King! Thinking has never made Wuvvy demand satisfaction for making Rue cry!” He jumped high at the end, pulling at his ears.

Trickster - Chapter 5

He sighed after confirming no page had been wrinkled or ripped and turned to scowl at his deskmate, only for it to fall at the red-faced and slightly disheveled Dupain-Cheng muttering under her breath. Her hands shook as she tried to take out her materials, making pencils, papers, and a cookie fall around her, irritating her even more, which made her drop more materials.

Félix blinked out the flashing thought of a bottomless bag that’d never let this cycle end and waved a hand in front of her face. Her eyes focused on his hand and he slowly took a hold of her shaking hands so that she’d follow his movements and pull away anytime she wanted; but she didn’t, and the cycle was successfully broken. With his other hand, Félix began to pick up the fallen objects.

A Pretty Special Date

And she didn’t need to pretty herself for him, but she wanted to; even if he only took her for a walk around the public park, she wanted to look as pretty as he made her feel.

Technicolor Phase

This was one of the scarier movies. The kind that made Félix’s eyes gleam at the details like the green from the grass right after a rainstorm. That hooked his breath out of his lungs like a gray snowstorm right before the tension released the bright aurora—that, in this case, would most like be colored in a gory red. She knew all of that because of how closely she watched him, she had no idea what was going on on the screen.

But instead of snorting or poking him about his little eeps and arghs, she just smiled and felt the thud of the evening stars wanting to burst out of her chest and replace the gory blood from the movie’s scene. And when Félix clutched her arm, she was almost sure the DUM from the sound speakers was exactly that happening.

City of Fools - Chapter 1

It felt dirty, to simply run away from her home while it fell apart, when, maybe, she could be there, doing more for it. She helped her maman to make the amnesia potion, but that was it; she took herself out of the picture after that simply because it was too painful to continue being there. So she draped herself in blue and ran away to somewhere she wouldn’t be in direct contact with that pain.

The Mouse’s Tale: of the Twilight

When Mullo found the first piece of cheddar on the counter, she had assumed it had simply been forgotten there by Marinette. But the Parmesan plate seemed very intentionally placed in front of the door covered in glittering stickers.

Bridgette’s gray eyes—dimmer from the nighttime and brighter from her ecstasy—peeked through the door’s breach, smiling crinkles creasing their edges as she gazed at the small mouse sniffing at the Parmesan. Mullo waved at her and took the food to a crane on the ceiling.

Stray Cats - Chapter 2

She scrunched her nose. After seeing how he took care of his little brother, thinking of him as the “blond jerk” didn’t seem right. Just like letting him go out in this rain with his little brother, when he obviously didn’t have where to go, ticked her off with wrong, wrong, wrong, for several reasons.

A thunder roared out.

Even the sky agreed.

Symphony of Lights - Chapter 1

A laugh escaped her. Hundreds of bells tinkling in harmony with the glistening in her eyes as she took him in. He focused back on what his face was doing and made it give her a smile he hoped conveyed his delight at seeing her well enough—because he was; even if there were others, harder to discern, emotions sizzling his brain.

Alternative Cuisine

“Just jelly!” She took a seat across from him, putting an elbow on the table and placing her chin on a palm. “Come on–” She pushed the tray to him. “The taste is divine, you have to try it.”

He arched a brow at her. “Did you taste it first?”

She bit the inside of her cheeks.

Félix grabbed his book and stood up.

“Nooooooo! Félix, pleeeeaaaaaase!” She leaned over the table, pushing the tray aside as she grasped his wrist. “I need an impartial judge! I can’t criticize my own cooking properly.”

“Translating,” Félix said, groaning as he let her pull him back to his sitting position. “You need someone that still has a decent paladar.”

Marinette humphed and crossed her arms. “There’s nothing wrong with my paladar, thank you very much.”

“Love, you swear that crickets are just like crackers.”

“If they’re crispy enough, people can’t even tell the difference! And they have way more nutritional value.”

#tag game #all but one is from Miraculous Ladybug lol #and all of the ML ones has felinette #I’m a very narrow-focused writer #my writing #fanfic #I tried my best to choose segments with little paragraphs. but then I reached Alternative Cuisine and like. the interaction is what makes so #*the interaction is what makes that fic #goddamit

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flightofaqrow · 2 years

Note

Five of the Tribe headcanons

Please also see!!!:

the original five ( past vs present, hierarchy and movement within, how they got and treated the twins, naming ceremony )

things @littleblackqrow has helped me out on and/or I absorbed from her ( community variation; pets/animals; )

good @/strqyr commentary

How well did Qrow fare in the tribe when he was younger?

Okay, let’s dig deep for some more. This is the hardest thing about writing this character, I swear. Entire worldbuilding. (Thank you though, always makes for good questions!)

The tribe isn’t isolated from modern society entirely. Many people know about things like scrolls, and cars, and mechas, etc. Some joined after having lived in metropolitan areas, after all, but a roaming band of nomads doesn’t exactly have access to electricity or public sewage/water. So they do without. Maybe some exceptions of using something battery operated until it died and then was sold off, or if they happen upon some solar powered lanterns or similar.

Vol 4/5 definitely gives the impression they’re not always on the move. There are whole wooden shelter structures and fences set up, and they were in the same place from Vol 3 when Raven let the location “slip” to Qrow, up until the fall of Haven, which is probably several months at least? They probably have a hideout for 1-3 years unless something comes up that forces an immediate move.

They take care of each other in a biological needs and survival sense, but loyalty does not extend to objects. They steal from each other. That’s just how it is. They have a concept of, and people are allowed their own “property”, and goods are distributed from raids (see prior post), but this is a temporary state at best. Once you have something, you have to protect it, otherwise it’s up for grabs by someone smarter (stolen) or stronger (claimed via fight). Granted, doing so might get you on someone’s shitlist, and/or land you in a fight with that person you stole from to get it back, so... pick your targets wisely. The chief and their closest leaders are usually pretty solid to leave some stuff lying around in their quarters. (This is part of why Qrow has a propensity for jewelry. It’s easier to guard and move goods if you wear them on your person.)

I know this is something Khristle and I share as well, it might even be on some of those links - it wasn’t all bad! The tribe had festivals and ceremonies and rituals, mentoring and music and storytelling, mishmashes of things from all around Remnant. They had fun and encouraged each other - just so long as you didn’t show weakness about it. They still fostered a sense of community and family this way, small glimpses of freedom and hope within a cruel world. The rules and fights were brutal, but it was still frowned upon to maim, murder, touch without consent, each other. Not that it didn’t happen, but those individuals would see retaliation or be ostracized until they shaped up. This ‘respect’ did not extend to outsiders. They didn’t discriminate based on anything except whether you could carry your own weight and place.

Also gonna share with Khristle here - they are superstitious. It’s difficult to live out in the woods and weather and hearing all kinds of myths and ghost stories and not be. They named Qrow and Raven for some. Bad omens, ghosts, faery rings and courts, haunting grimm, spirits in the wild, not all, but most, believe in a non-zero chance they’re out there at least. Many of those ceremonies and rituals were based on keeping bad luck/spirits/creature or inviting good luck/spirits/creatures, too. Mistral seems to be somewhat East and/or Southeast Asia based, while Branwen is Welsh and the Poetic Edda is Norse, so double bonus for tales and holidays from these areas. (Personally, I treat the twins as if they look Korean but have a Gaelic history. It all blends, though.)

#* the man behind the militant machine = caeloservare ** james *#* hey i got a tip for ya = meme response *#* hey don't get mad cause i'm right = headcanon *#i need a tribe tag tbh

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