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bitterspoons · 5 months

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Dead Girl's Wish Oneshot

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader

Summary: Ever since you were little—you were different. So was Remus. You went to therapy together and you were perfect....He asked to marry you...Happily Ever After is dead

Flashbacks are in italics

Warning: Lots of Angst and Lots of Blood

No use of Y/n

Word Count: 1.9k

Your boyfriend, Remus said he had a surprise for you. He wanted to hang out in the gardens of Hogwarts.

You had a surprise for him too—just not a good one.

As you walked towards the Greenhouse—tears already building up in your eyes...you remembered why this had to happen in the first place.

You two met in therapy when you were eight.

***

“We thought it would be better if you had someone similar around you—it would be easier for you to progress.” Miss Kempe, the therapist explained.

Little Remus rocked on his feet. “There’s another werewolf?” He asked excitedly, nibbling on a bar of chocolate.

“Well…no but…you’ll see.” Miss Kempe stood up and opened the door. “C’mon sweetie, you can come in.”

Slowly, a pale little girl trudged into the room. She was clutching onto her oversized cardigan for dear life as her long hair hid her face. Her dirty white sneakers entered the room and sat on the chair near Remus.

“Okay—how about you two get to know each other while I talk to your parents?” She closed the door.

“Hello!” Remus waved.

“Hi…” She said back. “What’s your name?” She asked quietly.

“I’m Remus! What’s yours?”

You two introduced yourselves to each other for a while—getting to know each other a bit.

“Can I see your face?” Remus inquired.

But the little girl backed away a bit. “I don’t think you want to. It’s scary.” She warned.

“People think my face is scary.” Remus insisted. “It’s because I have a scar—do you have a scar?”

“No—and your face isn’t scary.” The little girl said before turning away bashfully. “Your face is pretty.”

“Please?”

In a moment of confidence, the little girl tucked her hair behind her ears and looked at Remus nervously.

Her skin was practically translucent, and around her diluted red eyes you could see colorful veins decorating her eyelids and cheeks.

“I think you’re pretty.” Remis grinned.

“Really?” She asked. “How’d you get that scar?”

Remus scootched his chair closer. “Don’t tell anyone…but I’m a werewolf.”

She gasped. “Really? Like you can turn into a wolf?”

Remus nodded. “It hurts alot but I can! Once every months at a full moon!” He recited.

She also looked around. “I have a secret too. I’m half zombie.”

Remus’s eyes widened. “I never heard of that!”

“Nobody has! The doctors don’t know either. That's why I look like this.” She explained.

“Does it hurt?”

The two kids spent 5 hours chatting about their ailments and other things and soon became best friends.

The parents and Miss Kempe watched them from outside the door. “I think this arrangement will work nicely.”

***

You weren't sure if that qualified as a meet-cute but either way—your love story had to come to an end.

After all, he didn't deserve you. How could he? Look at yourself.

***

Today was a particularly rough session where they were encouraged to talk about their biggest insecurity with each other while Miss Kempe was out of the room.

The two tweens sat in silence.

“I wish I looked like the girls in the magazines.” You blurted, staring at the pile of newspapers and magazines on the table.

Remus nodded before looking down. “I wish I wasn’t dangerous.”

You laughed. “Well clearly I’m an asshole.” You scoffed at yourself. “I’m only worried about myself for cosmetic reasons.” You picked at your nails, the conversation pitted again.

This time, Remus started it. “I think I fear it because it means that nobody deserves to love me.”

Your head shot back up. “Same…I would feel bad for the person who loved me.”

“Maybe we deserve each other.” Remus laughed and the two 11 year olds laughed off their pain.

“You deserve someone a lot better than me.” You concluded—grabbing a caramel from the candy bowl.

“Likewise.” Remus replied—sending them both into another fit of sad laughter. “Well then…” He grabbed one of the ring pops from the candy bowl. “Will you marry me?”

You laughed, taking another ring pop from the bowl. “Only if you marry me!”

“Wonderful!”

You spent the rest of the lesson talking about what Hogwarts would be like and eating enough candy to feed a village.

***

But that isn't how today was going to end. You refuse to laugh this off and eat candy until you had a stomach ache—you were going to face this like a big girl.

You remembered how Remus asked you out two years ago.

You were at the Great Hall for dinner. Remus had been repetitively proposing his hand in marriage to you—each time you said no and that he deserved someone better than her.

***

Ignoring all the stares you got from your grade mates, you sat down to eat when a fortune cookie appeared on your plate.

"Why don't you go see what it says?" Remus asked, nudging it closer to you.

"Oh god, what did you do?" You tried hiding your face and moving as far away as you could as you opened the cookie. Nothing happened so you sat comfortably again before reading the message inside.

________________

Will you marry me? — Remus J Lupin

________________

"No, Remus. You deserve somebody better than me." Came your usual response. "How did you even manage this?"

"Please?" He begged.

You laughed—grabbing some lasagna onto your plate. "No!"

"Even with an itty-bitty cherry on top?"

"You know I don't like cherries."

Remus pouted. "But that's why it's itty-bitty!" He protested. "Marry me?"

"No."

He slouched "Fine how about helping me study next Sunday for divination?"

"Sure." You grabbed out a pen to do your homework—ignoring the crushed up paper balls that people were throwing at you.

"Is 9 okay?"

"Sure." You responded once again, catching one of the flying paper balls and unrolling it so you could write your potions essay on it.

"Can you also help me pick out an outfit?"

"Sure." You started focusing on your essay.

"After can I take you on a date?"

"Sure." You hadn't even realised hat you agreed to for a moment. You shot your head up. "What?"

"Well you already said yes." Remus grinned, stealing a bite of your lasagna.

"You cheeky little—"

***

You two had continued going on more dates until you two finally kissed under the Mistletoe at Honeydukes. You returned to Hogwarts as a couple.

You really wished you could stay together. You made such good memories over the years and you really wished you could stay Highschool sweethearts once you graduated from Hogwarts in a few days but...you didn't want to condemn Remus to living a life with you.

Everyday, you woke up and checked how dead you looked that day. How green were you, how colorful were your veins, were your ribs decaying again?

Everyday you watches as girls fawned over Remus, flirting with him and you couldn't help but wonder how they could look so pretty.

It looked right—Remus with a pretty girl by his side and yet he felt obligated to be your girlfriend.

You didn't want to torment him like this.

So as you met each other in the greenhouse—you two made small talk for a while.

Helping water flowers, you told Remus how excited you were to spend more time with your newborn brother, Teddy.

Remus told you how excited he was to live a life beyond school. He told you how nervous he was to live his life when a war was going on.

"I'm just worried about you, ya know? I'm worried about everyone. Lily, you—all our muggleborn friends... That's kind of why I wanted to talk to you. Ya know, live life while we can." Remus shuffled his feet as he blushed.

You didn't see the blushing—instead you saw the worry and dread on his face. You realised how selfish you had been—spending so much of Remus's time where he would be safe and free—the time he should've spent with prettier, and smarter girls.

So you turned to him and told him you wanted to break up. Plain and simple. It wasn't him, it was you and you were sorry.

Without seeing his reaction—you ran out of the greenhouse and apperrated home.

Remus stood there stunned as he clenched the small black box that was in his hand.

It was all a misunderstanding, wasn't it? They probably needed to talk it out and everything would be okay.

Wouldn't it?

He loved you ever since your first therapy session–he genuinely thought you were the most beautiful person ever—inside and out. (Quite more literally too.)

He had spent weeks building up the courage—too many pep talks from James and Peter and too much time picking out a ring with Sirius and Lily.

He wanted to give you space—maybe wait for the initial shock to blow over so he did.

The next day, he figured you went home already so he used the Floo network to get to your house.

It was dark inside your usually bright and lively household.

A house that was usually filled with laughing, yelling, scolding and giggles was reduced to silence.

"Hello?" His voice echoed in the house was he was not alone.

So he walked through the rooms of your house until he saw your parents and older sister in your living room.

Dead.

He saw a trail of blood leaving the living room and he started running.

As he followed the trail—it lead to your room and the amount of blood was getting increasing—he was leaving foot prints in it. The hem of his pants were swimming in it.

His running came to quick stop when he slipped and fell.

Groaning, he tried getting back up but stopped in his tracks as chills ran down his spine.

His eyes glances at his hands and his pants as he dusted himself off from the fall when he realised that he had slipped on blood.

His eyes trailed further in front of him and he saw your dead body in a giant pool of blood.

The same pool of blood he had slipped in.

He checked for your pulse and did CPR for a good half an hour until he broke down sobbing. Cradling your body— he looked out the window to see the Dark Mark in glowing traces.

He swiped his hair off his cheek—unknowingly smearing the blood from his hands onto his face.

He fumbled with the ring in his pocket and slipped it into your cold dead hand. "Will you marry me?" He wailed. "Please answer..."

But your dead body didn't answer.

He cried even harder, pounding his fist against the floor boards when he heard something.

A baby.

His eyes darted to your closet. He scrambled up and saw the bloodied hand prints on the doors as you had opened them in your final moments.

He carefully opened the door to your closet where he saw your baby brother Teddy crying in bloodied blankets.

Remus quickly took off the blanket and made sure Teddy wasn't injured to see that your baby brother was completely fine and the only one alive in your family.

You had sacrificed yourself to save Teddy.

Remus shed off his hoodie, getting Teddy out of the blood stained blankets and cooing him to sleep.

Remus started wailing again—seeing your cold smile against the dirty carpet.

He clutched your baby brother and apperated to where all his friends were waiting—waiting to celebrate the newly engaged couple.

Instead—they got a broken Remus and a baby Teddy and the start of a tragedy.

Because as each of his friends died.

He promised to take care of Teddy like his own son.

Your last wish.

#remus lupin angst #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #Remus Lupin x self insert #remus lupin imagine #marauders era #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #Remus Lupin scenario #marauders #the marauders #marauders fic #hp marauders

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squirmydads-creations · 1 month

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There actually is a creative benefit to having too many projects going on at once, but I'll come back to that. The contrast color Asurmen blue is a really rich and saturated blue, in fact it's too saturated and blots out all subtlety. The contrast paint Pylar Glacier is a really nice pale blue but goes on so thin as to be inconsequential. I've been trying to figure out how to use both of these contrasts effectively, and just diluting the dark blue with water causes it to break apart, now I know I need to use contrast medium to do the thinning, and multiple coats of the light blue never resulted in anything really useful. However, using the light blue to thin the dark blue gave me the color that I was actually after, which is the goofy psychic space squid on the left carrying all the equipment. The one on the right is a slightly diluted dark blue, like three to one, and the one on the left is more of a one to one dilution.

Having a lot of projects going at once can result in chaos, but in a chaos situation your mind will look harder for solutions to calm the chaos, thereby helping create creative solutions. So I always take on just a little bit more than I actually need to do to help get a little bit of chaos energy moving. Of course, having too many projects can result in a complete shutdown of the system as you become overwhelmed, so you need to find a little bit of balance to be effective.

#painting miniatures #miniature painting #creative chaos

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stingandsnoutbindery · 1 year

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Advent Anthology by @pacific-rimbaud

A Compilation of PR's one-shot entries for DHr Advent, years 2020-2022.

Fandom: Harry Potter

Relationship: Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger

Art by the wonderful @chestercompany

My binderary baby and second fanbinding project.

read below the cut for the process and other binding deets.

Quick Specs

20,015 words | 179 pages | Quarto (1/4 of Letter)

Technique: Flatback bradel Title & Body Font: Libre Baskerville (in various style emphasis)

Fics included:

Les Pelerins (10k; 2020 entry)

I'm Never Lonely When I'm With You (5k; 2021 entry)

On The Virtues of Inexhaustible Burning (5k; 2022 entry)

Pac is the type I could trust to write anything and I know I'll absolutely love. Her advent fics, in particular, I especially adore. The writing is very visceral and I will not admit how many times I've reread these.

On The Book

I had not intended to bind any book/s for @renegadepublishing's binderary because of my hectic schedule, however FOMO won over and this book was born. It was a relatively quick design and typeset (I really do better under pressure lol). I wish I could say the same for when I started the actual binding though. This is the 8th book I’ve bound and I had expected it to go relatively smoothly, but this book fought me every step of the way and I'll indulge in expressing my distress on this post.

First, the print place I go to messed up my typeset, thus me having to travel back home to use our old crappy inkjet (that took 3 hours to print). And because said printer is crappy, I had to use 100gsm short grain to minimize show-through, and well, you can imagine how stick straight the pages are. Second, I made the case too small (I worked on the book after a toxic 12 hour lab day and was not in the right state) and instead of redoing the covers, I re-trimmed and repainted the fore edge (at cost of my lovely margins ..wails). Third & last, the vinyl refused! to stick to the cover and I proper burnt the HTV as well as my finger on my iron. In the book's defense, it was my first time using leather paper and I forgot to test their chemistry.

On The Bind

Everything else went swimmingly, aforementioned shit aside. I tried not to make this book scream Christmas and leaned into a more subtle theme through color choices. I finally got to use this lovely red leather paper from Itoya, which my parents bought me during their trip in Japan. Many thanks to @celestial-sphere-press for helping me out with the shops to visit!

The design cover was made on Illustrator. The words are actually the fic prompts which I arranged in concentric circles, inspired by the arrangement of the advent candles in our local church from years back. I have no idea what paper my print place used, but it has some nice pulp to it.

As I said, I melted the HTV and certain parts refused to stick, so I peeled all of it off, except for the spine title (which miraculously stuck) and used my foil quill pen instead. I used an off-brand one and it's really good!

I also did this sort of strip across the edge which I learned is called a "river" as Nic @bindsbymunchkin called it. The side near the spine though, looked asymmetrically empty, so I added the foiling. And as this is an anthology, the punctuations was a design choice to convey the start and end and pauses in-between stories (and mostly because they just look fancy lol).

Like my last bind, the edges are gold which is comprised of an undercoat of diluted dark gray Sakura acrylic paint and many layers of Liquitex iridescent gold acrylic ink.

Endbands are made with alternating colors of cream, gray, and gold DMC cotton threads, however I'm learning I don't very much like how sewn endbands look on small flatbacks.

The endpapers are my fave. I had already tipped in plain cream cardstock but then I was like: this book needs MARBLED PAPER! so I ripped off the one I had stuck and replaced it. It's actually not real marbled paper HAHA. I sourced it from this site, printed it on some heavy paper, and oh my god I believe the universe really meant for me to find this pattern because it coincidentally matched the colors of the endbands!!

On The Typeset

I wanted to keep things cohesive but also give each story its own character. Libre Baskerville was a lovely typeface to do that on.

From left to right: Les Pelerins, I'm Never Lonely When I'm With You, On The Virtues of Inexhaustible Burning

For Les Pelerins, I wanted to mimic the silhouette of the establishments in Montmartre, hence the varying heights of the letters. If I wasn’t on a time crunch, I would’ve spent more time editing the headers but alas this is what we get. INLWIWY is more straightforward– a pinecone, which was a recurring theme in the story. And I think OTVOIB is my favorite. I drew tiny gold cracks onto the coal rock which is a significant element in the story. It still gives me that stomach flip whenever I reread it (iykyk).

#sting and snout bindery #buzzing books #z’s biblioteca #fanbinding #bookbinding #binderary2023 #dramione #pacificrimbaud #dhr advent 2022 #dhr fic #ficbinding #dhr advent

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bonefall · 6 months

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decided to try my hand at some oc clanmew translations because i think it's fun :3c i have more but here are the ones that are either my favorites character-wise or took some thought!

STAR HIVESWARM - shai ffawsbabfsfsafen

star bee-home swarmed. there's no word for a hive in term of bugs, so i just shoved ffaws with the first part of babipanna to make hive. She's called hiveswarm because her gray ticked fur looks like a swarm of bugs and she was overwhelmed with many things as a warrior and deputy, swarmed with them

ISOPODSPOTS- booiwoowoo

rollypolly-spotting. Isopodspots is white with black spotting like a dairy cow isopod! He's in star hive's clan, which has an abundance of bug names

booiwoowoo is really fun to say.

BLUEFLOWER - luparponma

blue flower... hers is very simple but i like her. she was named for her blue eyes, bluish grey parts of her dilute calico patterning, and for her knowledge of medical flowers as a medicine cat. If her clan knew what lotuses were she'd be bluelotus (blue water-flower?) instead. a very straightforward name, but as a character she's far from straightforward!

STAR BREEZESONG - shai hraa'ahwuosoon.

star breeze wind-whistling. i would have used the singing verb, but I thought the hypothetical literal "song" the wind sings would be fitting for her name instead. she wasn't named breezesong for any super specific reason in particular but i imagine she may have been born on a particularly windy day, or maybe her fur flows in a specific way akin to a breeze

HOUNDSNIPE - bayaokikaboohafefyl

large hound-wader-bird. her name is a joke about guns since the character she's based on uses guns as her main weapon, but uses the name of a wading bird! as for why the hound prefix... she looks somewhat doglike, being large with black and white markings and having huge paws, teeth and distinctively pointed ears. she's breezesong's sister. breezesong looks like a normal cat

JUNGLEHOPE - papayaogshaba

steady rain-forest-prayer. jungles and rainforests would probably be synonymous to warrior cats since they don't know a lot about em, and i'd imagine a prayer to starclan is similar to hoping!

SPLINTERFLOOD - boekarkworrl

a lot-broken piece-flood. the clanmew word for splinter, as in the piece of wood or thorn that gets stuck in your paw pad, isn't what i imagined for splinterflood's name. splinter as in the verb, splinter as in breaking into many small pieces. he's flooded by the splinters in his namesake, parts of himself. his old name was floodheart, but he changed it to splinterflood, then eventually splinterheart again. (worrlbabun, boekarkbabun) he's indecisive and also very dramatic, almost like cat the shakespeare

MOTHFLARE - ffyyfyn

moth-flame, her name is an honor title! she survived major burns as an apprentice from a forest fire that occurred during a battle with a warring clan, and when she recovered she was granted her honor title. she's also a sorta charcoal black color, with long fur that wisps like a flame

ffyyfyn is a very nice coincidence of a name. it's very pleasant sounding

very nervous to send this but who cares i'm having fun it's clanmew time. i love better bones it's super cool

No need to be nervous! These names are all great! Booiwoowoo my beloved!

I'm going to give you words for homes that insects construct. I AM GOING TO BE POSTING IMAGES BELOW THE CUT. So here's a Trypophobia warning!

There's BEES down there, and SPIDERS, and HOLES. And weird plant tumor things called galls. Basically, bugs are adorable but they are also horrorshows who bend nature to their little leggy whims.

A home that an insect constructs is a Kin. Kin is also a word with many meanings in Clanmew. It can mean...

An insect's home

A clay pot with only a small opening

A strange object

A belonging of someone, especially an object that has special value to that person; a prized possession

A hole with a biting animal in it

Something that someone will fight you for; something you may have to fight to keep

There's a LOT of words for specific Kin.

Large, flat web = Yyb

Cobweb = Feep

Gall/Bauble = Kichaw

Honeycomb = Mlogur

Hive = Skib

Anthill = Shein

Yellow Meadow Anthill = Eebo

Large, flat webs = Yyb

The sorts of webs made by orbweavers, hanging straight downwards. Big, strong, and sticky. Word can also mean that something is vertical-- perpendicular to the ground.

Cobweb = Feep

NOT made of dust. Cobwebs are formed first by cob spiders, and then dust can settle on them in a house after they've been abandoned, damaging them beyond use.

In Clanmew, a cobweb is a fuzzy, 3D web with an odd structure. It can describe any spiderweb that doesn't have the "classic" flat shape, like the webs you may see in your cellar or the corner of your house.

Gall/Bauble = Kissaw

These are ALL galls that Clan cats can find on oak trees alone. They're specialized growths that certain types of wasps and flies can force the tree to grow into, to protect and feed a larvae before it pupates.

The word can mean gall, or it can refer to any interesting little natural object or adornment. Clan cats also can't always tell these apart from blights, chawb, so the word tends to be applied to useful galls (ink can be made from one type) or ones that are particularly interesting.

Honeycomb = Mlogur

SPECIFICALLY the hives of honeybees. Cartoons lie to you; honeybees do not create the grayish, papery hives that wasps and hornets do. A mlogur is yellow, droopy, and sometimes drips with honey.

And they're VERY important. Honey is one of the best natural antiseptics in the entire world, INVALUABLE for treating wounds. The wax can also be repurposed into all sorts of useful things, and even the larvae can be eaten.

Hive = Skib

EXACTLY what you usually imagine when you hear 'hive.' A nest of stinging bees, wasps, and hornets; but NOT honeybees.

Dangerous and useless. Clan cats avoid these at all costs; nothing good comes from messing with them.

Anthill = Shein

The hilly, bare structures that 3/4 of the ant species they encounter create.

Yellow Meadow Anthill = Eebo

A term mostly used by WindClan! At first glance, one may think these are strange little natural landmarks, but in reality, they're actually colonies of yellow meadow ants. After they build their homes, grass comes up to cover the structure.

Sometimes WindClan apprentices like to play hopping games with these, seeing how many they can successfully bounce over without stopping.

#Clanmew #Insects #Hives #anthills #tw trypophobia #Spiders

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hollyhomburg · 2 years

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Before I Leave You (Pt. 41)

(Sneak Peak) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Tae’s first day living as a girl looks something like this;

Tags: no plot just fluff, Trans! Tae, Discussions of Dysphoria, fear of transphobia but no real transphobia, Omega-space, Fluff, Comfort no hurt, brief non-sexual nudity, Brief 4th wall break, possessive behavior,

W/c: 12.0k

A/n: this ended up being a lot longer then i originally planned, but maybe that’s just cuz I’m so soft for taetae 🥺 this chapter is coming out on my birthday! i’ve put together a little wishlist over on amazon of some birthday things, but this also functions as a birthday present for you guys too!!! i can’t think of anything that will make me happier other than posting this on my birthday <3

Previous Chapter- Masterlist

Chapter 41: Tae’s first day

One of the stylists pauses by your chair, the short haired one with a plastic mixing bucket in her hand washed out from Yoongi's dye now. A smile toying at the edge of her mouth as she watches you fuss with your alphas jacket.

And Jimin sits up straighter as she nears. She casts an easy grin in his direction, tipping her head in deference, “I’m sorry, you know we don’t have an omega in our pack yet,” her eyes are almost catlike as you tug and pull at the jacket. Uncaring at their discussion. “It’s not often that we get to see an omega exercising their nesting instincts.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin says with a grin that it’s barely more than a show of teeth, leaning forward to balance his elbows on his knees, stance wide and occupying the space, “our omegas are quite good at it.”

Jin blinks slowly at the mild confrontation, letting the alphas take care of the posturing. Taking a sip of his tea as the stylist picks through your hair with her long-manicured fingers. Jimin actually does get up when you look up, eyebrows furrowed at the strange woman playing with your hair, but not entirely put off by it.

You are incredibly weak to head-pets, even outside of omegaspace. She leans in, giving you a sweet smile that makes you want to hide. “You know, sitting in my chair, you might as well get a trim too?” it’s too much attention- from an alpha you don’t know setting you on edge. Your hands tighten in Namjoon’s jacket but he’s just there- just on the other side of the room. Jinnie and jiminie and TaeTae are here too- your sluggish brain reminds you- there is nothing to fear with so many of your alphas around. They’d never let anyone hurt you.

You look at your own face in the mirror. But it’s all warbly, everything feels so soft. It has been a while, probably years since you’ve gotten a haircut. And it feels nice, someone’s hands in your hair even if it’s not one of your alphas.

“Sure!” you chirp, deciding that it can’t be the worst thing. You continue to fiddle with Namjoon's jacket as she draws a brush through it, getting it parted and partially soaked with a spray bottle full of diluted leave in conditioner. She sprays the cold water near the base of your head and you flinch, but it’s a good flinch, the kind of one that happens when your body is oversensitive and stimulated just right. You giggle.

And oh, the female alphas smile is not something that Jimin likes, especially when she near purrs, “sorry, are you ticklish?”

Jin keeps his eyes on you, recrossing his legs and making eye contact with Namjoon.

You eye the bleach, the pink strawberry colored buckets that tae’s stylists pulls from then make a little noise. Needy and small. Every alpha in the room stills and turns to look at you, the stylist's painting brush hovering an inch from Tae's hair, already on her second round of bleach.

Jimin actually comes over to stand next to you, waiting, willing to give you anything that you want. Some hidden dark part of him roils when you look up at the female alpha (because you should only be looking at your packmates like that, all wide-eyed and lower lip pouty. The way that omegas look at alphas when you want them to give you everything).

Your eyes are so glazed over that Jimin's surprised you're not chirping. Communicating with whines and purrs instead of words. “Can you? Do a strand at the back of my head? Just one, so that I can match Taetae a little?”

Wanna look like Taetae cuz I love looking at Taetae, she's so pretty did you see how pretty she looks today? I mean she looks pretty every day but now that she can be a girl all the time and not just during secret time- it's like- Poof! like pink lemonade and butterflies and fluffy fluffy nesting blankets- and alpha got me one and it's the best but’s not as good to cuddle as Taetae is- did I tell you she’s pretty yet? Didn’t you notice?

You blink, the haze clearing a little when you recognize that the hand in your hair has gone still. That no one’s talking too. You’re unsure if you've spoken that last bit out loud when you come back to yourself a little. A look around the room tells you that oh-

Oh no.

Tae's head is in her hands hiding her flaming cheeks, bleached hair all sticking up, Jimin looks like he might actually pick you up and take you out of here, but Jin and namjoon are choking back laughter. The stylist doesn't choke on her own spit (through some act of will) instead of meeting your eyes in the mirror and chuckling gently.

"Well then, thank you for telling me that. I’m sure Tae-tae liked hearing that too” Tae lets out a whine from next to you, equal parts endeared and flustered- her heart fluttering uncontrollably. painfully and hopelessly in love that even this- even you saying all that in front of them doesn’t have her feeling a lick of embarrassment.

“i’ve got the cutest mate in the history of mates” Yoongi comments to no one in particular, “you really do” says the stylist currently lacing his own hair with deep mauve strands. The same look on her face that people have when they behold other small cute things like baby animals of small fist sized stuffed plushies.

Your stylist leans back in, tugging on your hair playfully. “Well pup, let's make you pink.”

Coming Saturday, October 15th at 5pm EST (Time zone adjustments below)

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mothwingedmyths · 1 year

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Food related Rain World headcanons or something

Honey is bright red and glows slightly, and due to the aggressive nature of the bees it's incredibly dangerous to collect without proper gear and training (also medieval beekeepers dyed the wicker basket looking parts of their masks light red for color coordination because it's cool)

Eggbug eggs are like caviar rather than chicken eggs

So are fire eggs but they're spicy and more delicate (and also way more expensive)

Popcorn is kind of an all-purpose plant food-wise; you can grind it into flour for baking and stuff, you can take off the kernels and season/butter them for a snack, the outer shell can be used to wrap things if you don't have monster kelp or pole plant leaves, etc

Speaking of which! Monster kelp and pole plants are both very common basic leafy vegetables (you need to be careful harvesting them though); monster kelp is more bitter and very slick, and pole plant leaves are sickly sweet (they're almost always boiled before consumption to dilute them) and very sticky and the "pole" part is mostly used as a seasoning

Glow weed is like if you took a watermelon and made the rind the thickness of apple peel or something, and it has a mild taste

Slime mold is like a marshmallow with nutrients and also it's not made from animal parts

There are a few types of eggs typically used for cooking and breakfasts; noodlefly eggs are the main ones due to them being a nice color and easy to collect if you know how, vulture eggs are the second most common because while they taste the best and have a natural saltiness to them they're really dangerous to collect, and miros bird eggs are the rarest because even though they taste good and are easy to cook they also have a slightly metallic aftertaste to them when prepared wrong (and also miros birds can't really be domesticated, which makes them way harder to collect than noodlefly eggs or vulture eggs)

The shells of cherrybomb thingies are fully edible, but if you try to eat the actual thingies your head will probably blow up

Centipedes are the main meat but instead of giving you salmonella or something when you eat them raw they'll either paralyze you if they're small or stop your heart instead if they're big! :D

Also they taste very different based on the type of centipede, age, and environment (there's probably things like "gourmet young centipedes imported from outer expanse!!!" or something

Bubble fruit is impossible to eat dry, but when you put it in water it's basically glow weed with way more flavor and a really hard seed in the center (i think it probably tastes best with iced mineral water)

You can actually use any liquid thin enough but that doesn't mean it's always good idea. Like you shouldn't put it in ramen broth why would you do that that would taste horrible (it probably tastes really good in other fruit juices though)

Rain deer are often kept as a basic general livestock since they produce both milk and wool And they can be ridden

And I can't think of anything else right now

#probably more applicable to an anthro au but whatever #and btw you're 100% free to steal these if you like them!!#rain world

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nevermore117 · 29 days

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figured I might talk a little about how I've been making soap so yall can judge my dirty ass workstation

I'm making a new batch this evening so it seems like a good way to show everything from the top. This is a long post, I just like sharing my hobbies and I think soapmaking is fucking cool ok

Part 1:

Essentially, when you make soap you're mixing sodium hydroxide (or another similar base like potassium hydroxide) with water and oils and blending them up. When mixed they go through a process called saponification, during which (from my rudimentary understanding) the fatty acid tails break off from the fat structure because the hydrogen atom in the NaOH (sodium hydroxide) really wants to bond in that spot instead. The Na is an ion and breaks off from the molecule in water anyways, and it and the remaining O bond with the fatty acid tail and make a soap. Don't ask me any more please I'm not out of gen chem 2 yet.

All that means is, you take some water and some oils and some sodium hydroxide and mix it together, let it react, and you get soap. The key is the ratios of oils, water, and sodium hydroxide.

The thing is, sodium hydroxide is a strong base. Which is kind of like a strong acid in how bad it is to touch. You don't want it on your hands, you don't want it in your mouth, and jesus fucking christ it WILL blind you if you get it in your eyes. So PPE (personal protective equipment) is a must. And not just some gardening gloves either, you need proper eye and skin protection.

I have latex gloves, a long-sleeved denim shirt I got from my old job for free, and some decent protective goggles. All of this goes on before the lye is opened and doesn't come off until I'm completely done with everything. PPE isn't a joke.

Anyways. When you're making soap you need stuff like measuring bowls of course, since like I mentioned it's the ratios that matter. I measure everything by the gram with a digital scale. Silicone spatulas are also a must, I have two.

I also have an immersion blender. You COULD stir by hand, but I'm not eager to splash 10M lye around willy nilly so I got the blender. It just makes it easier and gives a better final product. I keep my tools separate from anything I would eat with bc, yknow,

, so no smoothies for this bad boy. Not pictured are plain spoons for adding stuff to the measuring bowls. I use glass bowls bc the lye can corrode metal.

Once I measure out an oil/butter I dump it into a big glass measuring cup. I could use a bowl but the measuring cup has a handle and I'm gonna be heating it up later.

Did you think I was done fearmongeroing about sodium hydroxide? Nope! It isn't just bad to touch, it's also bad to breathe! And it generates heat when you dilute it! That's hardly unique to lye, but it's still a little scary and cool.

The lye comes in little round pellets that I have to dissolve into a specific amount of water to get the right concentration of sodium hydroxide solution, and while that's happening it gives off vapors that SUCK to breathe. Ask me how I know. It's not "gonna kill you, call 911 asap", but it's "OWCH my LUNGS". You know if you breathed some in, it stings for a bit when you breathe in like something irritated the lining of your esophagus. Because it did.

So you have to make soap (or at least dilute your sodium hydroxide) in a well-ventilated area. Hence why I do this in my dirty ass garage instead of a nice clean kitchen. I have a big fan set up right next to my water bath (for keeping the lye cooler as I dilute it plus emergency water for washing), and I open the garage door to get that shit out. No enclosed spaces for me, please.

Now... actually making the soap look and smell nice. I have fragrance oils I add, plus I can also add stuff like soap colorant (NOT FOOD DYE), clay (like a clay mask), exfoliants, etc. I just kinda fuck around with trying new oils together. The appeal of this hobby for me is trying new things and experimenting.

I'll update more with actual in-progress photos once I'm done. I took these after cleaning all my supplies, I have some work I have to do before actually making soap bc it takes a while to measure everything out. Hopefully I'll find some time later this afternoonnnn

#furry.txt #soapdate #yes I know my workstation is a mess #I have to be able to pack everything down once I'm done so I can't really establish a permanent workspace #it's not actually as dirty as it looks this table is just fucking old and covered in speckles #I've tried washing it #it's just damage and not actually dirt #long post

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thebusylilbee · 4 months

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Hi, I'm sorry to bother you with this question but you are the person I know who knows more about pigeons. Yesterday, I was feeding some and I saw one that had 3 colours, sort of like a calico cat. I've never seen one like that before and it really baffled me. Would you know if that pattern has a name or something? She looked like a common pigeon, except for the colours, and I didn't even get to take a picture, she was only there for less than a minute

Hi anon please know that you are doing the opposite of bothering me, I am legit super sick today and barely starting to be properly conscious at *checks clock* 6:03pm so a question about pigeons is a very nice distraction from The Horrors and such !

anyway as far as I know there's not a single general name for them the way there is for calico cats. I think it's bc there are far more variations in pigeons and people who like them get really intense about them and their genetics real fast so they're very precise in describing them.

How it works in pigeons is each bird has a "base color" among three options :

Each bird also has a pattern among these choices :

And in addition to these two basic elements, plenty of modifiers come mess with things a little bit ! One is called dilute and does this :

There's also the stipper gene that makes pigeons look like they were sprinkled with some paint :

There's also the "grizzle" gene that means pigeons get to have white + another color exist completely mixed on the same feather, and it can do things like this :

There's also the "pied" genetic trait, which apparently is still considered really complex and not properly studied, which creates zones of white feathers on the bird :

And other stuff also, like for exemple a combination of several factors can create "Tortoise Shells" which can look like this :

There's also the "Almond" variation which can look like this :

So basically it's a little complicated.

But, to still answer your question, what I usually see is either a vague "multicolored variant pigeon" when the genetics start getting a little too crazy to describe the bird, or "multicolored pied pigeon" or "multiple patterns of pied pigeon" when the pigeon seems pied but the rest is a little too complex. Exemples of multicolored beauties that are difficult to describe quickly in any other way :

Some sources if you or anyone reading this is curious :

"Pigeon breeding : genetics at work", web portal of the university of Utah which is a good place to start

Pigeonetics, the video game created by the university of Utah to understand the basics

This page on color basics of the National Birmingham Roller Club which has many cool exemples

#Anonymous #pigeons #birds #I think what I said is fairly accurate but if I forgot something please forgive me I am legit sick as hell im doing my best #ornithology #pigeon genetics #columbidae #ask #bee tries to talk

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taxevasiontactics · 11 months

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The Godmother's Godchild [3] - Olive Branch Offerings

Synopsis: You're not sure how much you like that you're making a name for yourself in town. It's fun work, sure, but it's work nonetheless. However, since you're technically your own boss (and by extension the unofficial, temporary caretaker of some youths) that means you get to reward yourself with pizza parties as often as you want. You have a good idea of who you want to supply them, as long as you're here.

Warning: None

Today is a nice summer’s day. The sun is not too hot, the breeze is not too cold, and there are no clouds on the horizon. It’s the perfect weather for you to brew.

Your initial batch did get the cottage to maintain, but the iridescent stones were drained of their held power much quicker than you had expected. Within two days - just two! - you have to make a new set to tide you over until you figure something out. You suspect it’s a problem with the size of the stones – inverse square law still holds true when it comes to magic. It’s something you’ve never had to consider nor an issue the transmutation book hints at. You plan on making a singular, bigger power stone (some alchemist working in material engineering is probably itching to correct your terminology) to serve the entire house, utilizing the giant kettle that you found while clearing out the library.

Aggie and Marnie show up outside the cottage’s gate just after you get the vessel set over a crystal boiler in the front yard. You’re so busy pulling the garden hose around and trying not to step on the cat that you nearly miss their expectant faces looking over the peeling paint.

“Did you two…” You gesture towards the house. “Want to come inside?”

“No, that’s ok!” Aggie calls over. “We just wanted to see if we could stay here today!”

You question if this is just small-town logic, or kids taking a shining to you. You slide the hose into the kettle (cauldron, actually, you think at a second glance) and turn it on.

“That’s fine. Go ahead and sit on the porch, I have to go inside and grab a few things. Do you two drink soda? Pop? Soda-pop?”

“Yup!” “Yesssss!” Marnie yells enthusiastically, popping the gate open and running through.

You get the sodas and a paddle to stir with. The girls situate themselves on your porch, where you can hear the cat meowing for attention. Marnie is more than happy to oblige, sitting down on the ground just as you come back out with the cold cans of citrus-flavored drink. After a moment’s pause, you go back inside and grab a wide-brimmed hat. You’re going to be out there for a while.

“Do your parents know you’re both out here?” You turn off the water and pull the hose out as the level nears three-quarters full. Much more would be too dilute, but you have enough leeway for evaporation. “I don’t know how much they’d appreciate it if you decided to hang out at a near-stranger’s place all day.”

Aggie shakes her head. “Mommy knows we’re here and Daddy’s still working. She said we could go, as long as we minded our manners and didn’t make ourselves a nuisance.”

“Don’t know how much of a nuisance either of you can be…”

“Marnie can make herself one, trust me,” Aggie mutters. You laugh unexpectedly; kids are brutally honest when they want to be.

For the most part, you get through the brewing process unhampered. They ask questions every now and then, ones you try to answer as best you can. You have to go inside every so often to get and refill some water glasses for them, but once you’re deep in the process you only need to focus on adding, stirring, and keeping the temperature even.

“Are you a witch?” pipes up Marnie, lying on the floor with the cat.

The question catches you off guard. “What?”

You look down at yourself and what you’re doing. You can see where the confusion would start. You’re stirring a giant cauldron full of bubbling, strangely colored liquid while wearing a giant hat (though it’s missing the stereotypical point). You even have a cat that seems to understand humanoid speech. It’s what a kid her age would expect to see out of a witch, nevermind the outdated hat and lack of a laboratory setting.

“Oh, no, I’m not a witch. I’m a doctor, remember?” You pull the paddle out and whack it twice on the side of the cauldron to shake off any excess drops, turning the boiler’s heat down to a simmer. “I don’t have magic. Even if I did and I were trying to do a witch’s job, I’d be in some pretty big trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have a witch’s license, of course.”

Marnie gasps, then very seriously murmurs, “Are we going to get in trouble for using dousing rods? That’s magic!”

“Of course not! We’re just trying to help Daddy’s farm!” Aggie interjects. “They can’t get us in trouble for that!”

Your meddlesome instinct jumps on the opportunity before your logic can wrangle it.

“What’s going on with the farm?”

A dam breaks, apparently, as Aggie quickly comes over to sit next to Marnie in front of you. They both start babbling at the same time, talking over each other, and debating over which facts are true, but you get the gist of it. Their father (Mr. Anderson) is having a hard time getting the crops to grow well. The new irrigation system he installed last year doesn’t seem to be doing anything. They just won’t reach up to the sky like they used to.

“That’s why we were trying to find a well out in the woods,” Aggie finishes, “because the water out there is magic. You were collecting plants out there! You know that they’re magic.”

You nod, though your mind is elsewhere. The case bears enough resemblance to the dormmate houseplant incident that you barely have to search your memory. It’s simple enough that scaling the recipe should be easy. It might not be your place to butt in this time, but you hate to see them so upset.

“That’s right, the water there is special.” You turn the crystal boiler to its lowest setting. “You don’t need to dig a well for this one, though. I’ve dealt with this situation before.”

“What do you mean we don’t need to dig a well?” She winges, getting up.

“I mean you two can help with much less time and effort involved. I have a giant pot; you both have two hands.” You start to head towards the cottage door, looking for your bottomless bag. “How would you two like to be assistant foragers for the afternoon? You get a free lesson and pizza out of it!”

---

You let Marnie hang her head out of the window as you drive to Peppino’s place. You’re all riding the high of an extremely successful foraging session; you’re hardly surprised that they picked up the ropes so fast. With dirty hands and singing hearts, you all hop out of the truck as soon as you throw it into park and yank the emergency brake up.

“Guess who-o’s ba-ack, Pep-pi-no!” you singsong as you enter. Who you see, however, is not the Italian you were expecting.

“Oh, ‘scuse me!” The man at the counter exclaims. “Sorry, he’s on a delivery right now, but welcome to Peppino’s Pizza anyways! How can I help you young people?”

He’s a shorter man compared to you, curly brown-red hair puffing up underneath his toque. The guy has an air of joviality around him, and it’s not just because he has a round nose with a rounder face to match; he’s all smiles from the moment you enter, spreading from the curve of his thick mustache to his smile-line eyes. You can’t help but smile right back at him, leading Aggie and Marnie to the counter. You also note that he’s actually wearing an apron, a small step above his coworker.

“I think I recognize your voice, actually.” You pull out your wallet in preparation, leaning on the counter. “You’re Gustavo, right?”

He laughs, apparently amused, “That’s me! Sorry I don’t remember you too. People call in, the phone isn’t so good as those new smartphones, you know how it is.”

“It’s alright, it was a while ago,” you assure. You motion to the girls. “Same as last time?”

They both nod. You relay the orders (pepper and sausage, cheese, you feel proud for still remembering) along with your own. Gustavo nods and heads to the back to get to work. You and the girls sit down at the same booth as last time. The entire time you wait for your pizzas, you talk with them about what you’ll be making with the plants you gathered. The concept of a wild growth potion is utterly amazing to them, they ask you to explain every single detail. From the method of application, to what the brew itself does, to even how much it might grow. You oblige them at every turn. It’s your favorite part of the job, explaining to children how it all works.

The spark of curiosity in their eyes is twice as satisfying as making anything.

“Marone, the heat is killing me today, Gustavo!”

You turn to look at the ringing door, but you already have a confident idea of who’s come in shouting. The restaurant’s namesake slogs in, fanning himself with a hand and wiping his face with his white tank top. He beelines for the counter, complaining about this and that and the bugs and the roads being so congested today in town Santa Maria the drivers could not be any slower! You watch as he heads in back, disappears, and reappears with a faded plastic cup that he promptly fills at the soda machine.

“I nearly showed up too late too, but I still got there!” He swaggers as he turns from the machine, taking a triumphant swig. “Peppino’s still got it!”

He catches sight of you. He freezes. You wave, delicately fluttering your fingers his way.

“Hi Peppino,” you casually greet. “You sound very happy today.”

“Can I not go one week without being made fun of?” He groans to himself. Or maybe God, you don’t know. “Don’t you have better places to be, Doctor?”

“The food is good and they wanted some.” You gesture to the kids.

“Hi Mr. Spaghetti,” Aggie politely says.

“Hi Mr. Spaghetti!” Marnie shouts, though just as politely.

Peppino rubs a hand over his face and mutters something too low to hear. You didn’t even intend to use the kids as a weapon against his distrust this time, but the lack of an overlong interrogation as to your intentions is progress.

“No more jokes and don’t be a bother,” he tiredly orders.

You grin, holding your hands up. “No jokes, no more. Crossed my heart, I meant it.”

“Good.” Peppino turns to the girls. You catch a small fondness. “You two make sure the Doctor does not break the promise.”

“Promise!” They echo. You feel betrayed by their stern eyes on you immediately after.

He goes back behind the counter to yank his white hat on and sip at his drink. He and Gustavo have a quiet conversation in Italian. Of what, you don’t know, but between the two of them they point in your general direction no less than five times. You can only assume you’re a hot topic and go back to polishing off bready, cheesy, saucy goodness.

---

Good news: the new power stone works. The decently heavy, physical manifestation of energy sits on the living room’s coffee table (a temporary place, you promise yourself) and has been humming nicely for the last few days. It keeps your fridge on, your microwave spinning, and the temperature comfortably low as the land brings on summer in full swing.

You welcome Aggie back inside the cottage as you’re working through organizing the library (still! STILL organizing it! You’re barely a third of the way through!) for another soda and talk. The girl fondly recounts all the good your joint project has done for the farm. Already, her father’s tomato fields are as tall as Marnie is, and the rows of other vegetables have finally put out healthy leaves at a respectable size. You remind her about the potion’s application schedule as you heft a stack of books into the “donate” pile.

“I remember!” she exclaims, thumping her chest. “Once every two weeks, add one part concentrate growth for every two parts water used in the sprinkler.”

“Correct,” you reply. You dust your hands off, even if the place has no more dust to dust off. “When you need more, I still have extra for a few more big batches.”

Aggie’s feet stop kicking from where she sits on a red velvet chair. A pensive frown takes over her face and the cat meows from her lap, asking for the petting to start again. You get the feeling she’s going to repeat her father’s morals, so you come over to lean on the desk opposite the chair.

“Still don’t like taking without giving in return?” You offer. “You paid for it by getting the stuff, last time.” “Yeah.” Her hands rub against each other. “Daddy won’t accept it without paying you back somehow. It’s not right if we just expect those kinds of kindnesses without being kind ourselves.”

She, and Mr. Anderson by extension, have a point. You sigh, pushing back off the desk to pace the room. More and more, you feel like the logic in this place is firmly stuck in the past, but you don’t feel good accepting money. The recipe is too easy for that.

“Alright,” you concede. “How about a deal? A cut of the first harvest, or something. Whenever your dad has time, we’ll talk about it.”

A knock comes from the front door and turns both of your heads. You wave at Aggie to stay with the cat while you answer it. At the door is not one, not two, but three hopeful farmers, all glad to see you.

Bad news: Aggie and Marnie’s father let slip why his fields look so lush. Those three were just the start. Over the course of the next week, more and more come knocking at your door asking for the same potion. You ask for the same deal you make with the Andersons: a cut of the first harvest. Unfortunately, in their eagerness, they keep interrupting you organizing Aunt Marian’s belongings and slow progress more than ever. You barely get halfway through the library by the deadline you gave yourself to be done.

You run out of those extras quicker than you anticipated, forcing you to enlist the help of your new favorite gatherers and Thomas (who picks up the trade just as quick, you gladly note) to stock up on more. Their payment is, of course, afternoons spent at the cottage while you brew, then free soda and pizza after every successful foraging mission. You know this is unsustainable for both your wallet and the forest in the long run, but you probably won’t be in the town long enough for it to get to that point.

The unintended positive side effect is Peppino’s reluctant acceptance of your presence. Over the days, he goes from surveilling you the moment you walk through the door to making small talk while he charges you out. He even starts to remember what your posse’s usual order is. Gustavo is much the same, though much friendlier. He even throws in the odd free plate of breadsticks for the kids when Peppino isn't looking, winking at them over the counter.

Now, you and your team slog into the restaurant on quite possibly the hottest day yet. You feel like your face melted off on the walk from the truck, whose air conditioning did nothing for any of you. Aggie and Thomas lean on your sides, exhausted. You push Marnie in front of you like the world’s slowest slime monster. The bell rings, welcoming you all into the embrace of sweet, sweet air conditioning.

You shuffle in so haggardly Peppino sets his book down with a tsk, tsk, tsk. Gustavo waves hello, moving to the kitchen to start on the pizzas.

“Did you have a busy day?” Peppino probes. You hear a hint of amusement as he gets out four cups. You go to collect and fill them while the kids sit, groaning when the cool, faux leather hits their overheated skin.

“Oh, yeah, busy day. Super busy.” You fill your cup first, quaffing the entire thing while you get the rest. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I’m sure you’d understand.”

He scoffs. “Not anymore.”

“Not anymore?”

“You might have noticed. The restaurant is always empty when you come in.” He sweeps his hand over the dining space. As he says, it’s devoid of anyone but you, him, and the children. “It’s like this all the time.”

“But you still take deliveries, don’t you?” You pluck straws from the metal box, ripping and placing one in each cup. “That’s how I found out about the place.”

“Sure, we take deliveries, but delivery is the only stable thing we do anymore. We are just not how we were before. It is…” Peppino’s hand rolls in the air, searching for words he can’t pluck out of his head. “It is how it is.”

Gustavo comes out of the kitchen, announcing that your food is ready. You dig your wallet out of your pocket, settle the bill with Peppino, and get to eating with the kids. A nagging feeling starts in the back of your head. Your meddlesome instinct smells blood in the water; you’re just not sure where.

---

The wild demand for growth potions tapers into a manageable schedule a month later. Your team of foragers is sad there won’t be any more near-daily expeditions into the woods, but you promise that you’ll need their help at times regardless. In spite of this, Aggie and Marnie still come over frequently for visits. Thomas too, though less often. His mother gives him an earful every time he’s out longer than promised.

The cottage’s library is finally organized into keep and donate. It’s a simple affair to load the latter into your truck for the town’s bookstore to keep. Your guilt over getting rid of them has long since passed – the majority was comprised of junk mail cookbooks, anyways.

You’re driving back when you get a craving for pizza. You expected yourself to be sick of it by now, but after years of subsiding on the same cheap ramen you suspect you’ve grown an addiction to salty, fat-packed foods. You just hope Peppino and Gustavo don’t mind you stopping in so late.

The lights are still on when you park in the dimming lot. You never noticed how remote the place is until now, perched up on the second tallest cliff of the coast. It’s dark when your truck’s headlights cut out, asphalt made darker without help from the setting sun. You can see both of them inside, talking over something behind the counter – by how they flip their hands around, it’s probably something they’ve been going at for a while.

Your entry makes them stop short. The men look away from each other as the door closes once again, clattering ring a stark contrast to the sudden silence. Gustavo is the first to pipe up, looking behind you expectantly.

“No kids today?” he inquires.

You shake your head. “Just me. They didn’t visit today.”

“The usual?”

“Yeah. To go, I know you’re closing up in a bit.”

“You’ve got it.”

He heads to the kitchen, leaving Peppino to ring you up with a pat on the man’s shoulder. You feel even more awkward in the quiet, desperate to fill it with something other than plastic keys clicking and whining receipt printing.

“What was that about?” you blurt, curious cat throwing itself in front of the metaphorical vespa. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two argue.”

“Argue?” Peppino pushes a dismissive breath out. “That was no argument, we were just talking.”

“Looked like an argument to me.” “It was a conversation about the restaurant, that is it. I have to mop soon, will you sit up or something so you’re out of the way?”

You do as he bids, sliding onto one of the slippery counter stools. Oh. It spins. You’re entertained by the novel discovery while Peppino disappears, reemerging with a mop bucket and a wet floor sign tucked under one arm. He clacks it open, sets it down, and gets to work. With nothing left to do and the only other person here clearly not in the mood to talk, you watch.

Peppino works with a practiced route, swiping the mop under tables and chairs like he’s done this a million times before. He probably has, he owns the place – better yet, he never wastes a single movement. He guides the mop in figure-8s, expert hands swaying side to side. Now that you get a longer look, you notice that his arms are more than just big. They have some definition to them. Subtle muscles flex and relax while he cleans, and hands that look used to handling hard work all day strain just the littlest bit. The veins and knuckles shift underneath his skin as he goes, thin scar lines dotting the more prominent bones.

The focus Peppino devotes to mopping relaxes his features into something resembling a man at peace. He stops frowning so much, his jaw unclenches, and he stops furrowing his brow. You can’t lie to yourself, he’s not bad looking when he’s not pissed off at something. You imagine he was somewhere on the “conventionally masculine attractive” scale in his youth. You’d never know unless you got your hands on some old photos, though.

You quit staring just in time. Peppino rounds the corner of the counter, moving back the other way with his front towards you. You nearly laugh to yourself. What would he do if he saw you ogling him? Demand that you stop? Kick you out immediately? You know he has a presence with gravitas, but you really shouldn’t make a habit of letting yourself be swept up in it. You lean on the counter, humming to get his attention.

“Hey, Peppino?”

“What?”

“What were you two talking about for the restaurant?”

He groans, stopping for a moment to frown at you once again over his mop, “Dio mio- Will you drop it if I tell you?”

“No promises, but I’ll stop for tonight at least.”

He sighs, visibly weighing his options. He tells you, you shut up for the night, but you will know forever. He doesn’t, you continue to pester him forever. Either way, he loses. You know your persistence has won so far. It doesn’t fail you now either.

“Fine,” he spits, “but you will stop about it tonight. We were talking about the restaurant’s debt. We have been breaking even so far, but the interest will pile up if we don’t think of something to make more profit soon.”

A sour coldness hangs on your ribs. You remember hearing the same thing at the hospital, belly up if no increase in profits is made. They don’t have a choice if treatments cost more, anyways. They’ll pay for it. The memory makes you grimace. The memory chums the waters, and your meddling desire resurfaces. You grab onto it. Wait, you tell it. Not yet.

“You guys don’t have any other options?”

He scoffs, “None but to close up and move out! But I’m not giving up so easily. This place is mine. I can’t quit on all the hard work I’ve done to make it happen.”

(Not just yet, you tell it. You grip its fin even tighter.)

“I could help,” you tentatively propose. “There’s a thought or two I have that you might not have gone over.”

“I doubt it,” Peppino dismisses with a hand. He turns his back on you again to mop down another lane of tables. “We’ve tried everything!”

(Almost, you urge it. It’s chomping at the bit.)

“You never know, an outside source and fresh perspective could do some good.”

“What makes you so confident that you won’t give up the moment it gets tough, eh?” He stops, turns, and slaps the mop in its bucket loudly. The water barely turns black, cleaned floors hardly touched by any customer’s shoes. “You have no obligation to stay, and you said it yourself that you won’t stay long. You barely have a foothold to tell anyone to do anything here.”

“I wouldn’t say that” you drawl, sitting up.

(Now.)

“I’ve been talking with most of the farmers in the area about growing advice. I think they’ll listen if I direct them this way, considering I’ve eaten here plenty of times. I think I can get a few to at least stop by. Word of mouth spreads quickly among them, you know. I’ve told more people how to help their fields in the past month than I’ve meaningfully talked to patients in the past year. It works.

“If worse comes to worst, though?” You shrug. “There are a lot of places that take junk you don’t need. I should know, I’ve been visiting them for the past month. You can tell me ‘I told you so’ and everything if I’m wrong.”

You conveniently leave out why you’ve been talking with every green thumb in the area. You still don’t have a license to practice in the area. However, if good news about Peppino’s place spreads as fast as your potion popularity, he might see new people as soon as tomorrow.

He finishes his mopping in silence. You worry, for a moment, that your lackadaisical delivery worked against you. He squeezes out the mop for the last time, wheels it next to the kitchen door, and leans on the red countertop to meet you eye to eye.

“What’s your angle?” He leans forward, pushing his space into yours. “What do you want out of this?”

You smile in response, shrugging again. “Lifetime supply of pizza?”

“HA!” He guffaws unexpectedly and pushes back, loud enough to make you jump. “Only when you save my life! Lifetime supply… No, you expect an equal exchange, is that it? No money? No favors?”

Peppino actually seems on board with the idea when you nod, body language opening up. No money, something he desperately needs to settle the debt. No favors, something you assume he would hate to owe.

“Just some food whenever I help,” you confirm. “It’s the kind of deal I’ve been cutting with everyone else. Plus, I’ve said before, I like your cooking. I would hate for it to go away.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Alright, Doctor.” He grins, a face you never thought you’d see on him, and holds his hand out across the counter. “Then we have a deal.”

You feel giddy as you reach out and grasp his hand. The firm grip makes you wince, but you shake on it. Gustavo comes out with your boxed pizza; he looks happy, too. He must have heard everything from within the kitchen.

“Sure, it’s a deal.” You take your dinner, hopping off of the stool. “Looking forward to seeing this place shine, Peppino.”

--------------------------------------------------

hoo boy do you have your work cut out for you. time to make some big moves, doc, if you want in on that ~lifetime supply~.

#peppino spaghetti x reader #peppino x reader #pizza tower x reader #the godmother's godchild #tax writeoff (fic)#honestly this is the one i've been happiest with so far #ten pages and 4.5k words. aaaaaaaaaaaaa #now begins the post-posting mistake finding.

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Finding Family (Fizz's Found Family)-Chapter 4 pt. 1

Fizzarolli didn’t have many outfits to choose from. If he was meeting with Lust and Greed tomorrow, he should likely be in one of his uniforms. None of his personal clothes were really appropriate anyway: mostly pajamas, shorts, and crop tops. The choice of uniform was obvious, too. He only had two of them. Fizzarolli was trying to market himself as a clown, not as a brand baby for LooLoo Land. His Little Top costume it was, then. That one was colorful, entertaining, somewhat creative. His other uniform was also distinctly clown, but remained red and white, with accents of green for when he ran games or concessions.

Barbie stayed up after Fizzarolli went to sleep and managed to make a few patches for the threadbare pieces of his costume with scraps of fabric she managed to steal off tourists from wealthier rings. She made three diamond shaped patches to stay on brand with Mammon and one heart for good luck.

She really wanted this for Fizzarolli.

Barb painted Fizzarolli’s face with the limited supplies left in his Mammon Branded Clown Cake palette that had been issued to Fizzarolli when he accepted the job. Only one per year unless he wanted another one to be taken out of his salary at double the retail rate, so they had to be frugal with it. Thankfully, with his neck ruffle, most of Fizzarolli’s natural red pigmentation was covered. He didn’t need to cake his face with white to give off his clown appearance, he simply needed to cover up discolored gray spots. Barbie added purple to his eyelids, lining one eye with green and the other with blue.

“Are you sure?” Fizz asked, as if he could stop her.

“You’re going to Lust. That’s all about confidence. And don’t tell me you don’t want to be wearing more colors. You always did like more than just the black and white.” Barb booped Fizz’s nose, just to annoy him.

“I don’t want a full color clown face.”

“I’m touching up your white and doing your eyes. Calm down, princess.” Barb put her brush down and held up her compact mirror for Fizzarolli to see.

It was actually quite nice. The purple was diluted enough that it was sort of a light lavender, which complemented his uniform in the way that it also used to be a deeper shade but had faded. The two toned eyeliner was an interesting touch, it complimented the new patches that had appeared on his suit overnight.

“You sure this will give a good first impression?” Barb looked him over carefully, taking much consideration in it. She pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Fuck no. You need glitter.”

The First Meeting

Lust is all about confidence. Back straight, head high. Deep breath, you can do this.

Fizzarolli had only ever been through the Lust ring to get to Sloth before, he’d never actually stayed. He liked the blue skies, much like the pink skies of Sloth he found them calming. The rain alarmed him at first, he worried about the ache that would start to settle in his bones the longer he was here, but he found when he got out that it was relatively warm and comfortable. Interesting.

Asmodeus’s palace was huge. The ceilings taller than any of Mammon’s spaces that weren’t practice locations or stages. It was cleaner and well taken care of. All of the Lust ring seemed to be. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it definitely wasn’t to feel so….comfortable. The waiting area outside of Asmodeus’s office was haunting. If he were alone, he might have worried that the room could swallow him whole. Mammon sat beside him babbling on about his own ideas on….Fizz didn’t know, he’d stopped paying attention. He tuned back in when he realized Mamm’s babbling was about him again.

“And the fucking glitter, interesting touch. What are you planning to do, Fizzy? You want to fuck him?”

The large double doors opened and save Fizzarolli from having to reply.

“Mammon” The deep voice carries crystal clear through the large room. Fizzarolli had never seen Lust himself, he hadn’t considered what to expect until this moment. He was huge, just as large as Mammon if not bigger. He was styled. Fizzarolli couldn’t help but admire how his outfit complimented his natural colors. He realized that the ram and bull’s head on the double doors were actually in his image, their colors complimenting his outfit and general color scheme. The heart at the base of Lust’s jacket mirrored the hand stitched patch over his own shoulder. Fizz realized what Barb meant when she told him it was for good luck now.

Asmodeus was commanding of a room, he had Fizz’s full attention. So much so that he hadn’t realized he was supposed to stand up and walk inside the office until Mammon was kicking him in his spot. He stumbled, but was thankfully able to catch himself. He didn’t catch the concerned glance that the Ram’s head gave when they noticed what had happened.

The office was even larger than the waiting room had been. Blue flames taller than Fizzarolli roared in the fireplace. He nearly made it to the sitting area without stumbling. He’d promised Barbie that if he stumbled more than twice he’d use the collapsible cane he had tucked away in his jacket. He’d now stumbled twice, even if the first time wasn’t entirely fair, and decided that he’d use it if he stumbled again.

Mammon sat in the large, velvet backed chair opposite Asmodeus’s seat, leaving Fizzarolli to lean awkwardly against the coffee table. He wouldn’t admit to being in a flair because he could still walk, but he was pushing it after yesterday. Fizzarolli’s eyes widened as he watched a chair appear next to Mammon’s. It wasn’t outrageously large, either, it was something Fizzarolli could climb into relatively easily. When he did, he couldn’t help but laugh as the chair grew in size so that he was more or less on an equal playing field with the other two. It was the closest he’d felt to flying in a long time.

“So, Mammon. Yesterday when we spoke you said this was urgent. Seeing as you’ve come out of Greed to meet with me, this must be important to you. What’s going on?” Asmodeus addressed Mammon directly, but the bull and the ram are looking at Fizzarolli. He isn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Yeah, mate. Well, look at him. You think he has much fucking time? Hit the lights, Oz”

Fizz shrunk as he saw the faces staring at him grow in concern. He fucking hates pity. The blue flames dim with a clap of the sin’s hands and Fizz soon realizes what Mammon’s approach to this pitch was going to be.

A screen appears from Mammon’s phone and projects into the air for all of them to see. The music starts, Fizzarolli hides his head in his hands but only for a few moments. By the time the emcee in the video speaks, Fizzarolli is back to sitting upright and forgetting about the video that was about to explain his entire history to the King of Lust.

“Introducing The Buckzo Family Circus’s own Fizarolli!” The familiar tune began to play. A young Fizzarolli stands on the high platform with a rope in his hand. He jumps off the platform easily, flying around the big top and making it look like anyone could fly if they just smiled big enough. The screen cut and changes to Fizzarolli balancing on the big ball, Fizz making balloon animals, Fizz uni-cycling and juggling flaming clubs, acrobatics on horses, more trapeze, some pantomime, a cream pie or two. “What couldn’t this little clown do? Dedicated, talented, destined for stardom. Raised by the Buckzo family as an orphan, he was the family’s pride and joy…...until..” Photos of Fizzarolli and Blitzo appear on the screen. Silent clips of Blitzo faltering at a routine and Fizzarolli saving him were scattered in-between. “Jealous by the talent and fame, Fizzarolli’s life went up in flames…” The newspaper page with the pictures of the accident flashed across the screen. Tents on fire, horses running to escape, fire crews getting there entirely too late. Photos of Fizzarolli in the hospital came next. Nothing but bandages, tubes, and wires. Headlines reading “We Thought He Was Dead” and Circus Star Medical Miracle. Video clips of Blitzo and Fizzarolli playing as children replace the images of damage and destruction. The emcee becomes vicious. His best friend turned enemy…….The Great Fizzarolli has lost everything: his family, his home, his livelihood but not…”

“Is this necessary?” Asmodeus hadn’t agreed to this meeting to watch tacky, exploitative, inspiration porn. Especially when he’d looked over at the jester and noticed the hollow, glazed over look in his eyes. How many times had he had to watch this video already? “What was it you came here to ask?”

Lust was angry. Fizzarolli could pick up on the tone, it’s what brought him back into the moment. The video had stopped playing before Fizzarolli’s cue. Mammon looked pissed. Fizzarolli’s heartbeat picked up pace. This was his only chance, he hadn’t even been here fifteen minutes and he was going to lose it.

“I-I came here to ask, Sir.” Fizzarolli interrupted. He wasn’t sure if it was rude or not, he hadn’t been given an etiquette lesson before coming here. Confidence Fizzarolli reminded himself. Lust is about confidence. If there’s anything Fizzarolli knows how to do, it’s fake confidence. He just needs to get himself into the right headspace. He needs to get into clownspace. It’s harder to do than usual when there’s two deadly sins staring at him, waiting for him to make the pitch that will save his life, hopefully get him some mobility again. One deep breath, and then another.

Asmodeus leaned back in his chair. He’s given the floor to Fizzarolli.

“I’ve always been a performer.” Decent start, Fizz. Keep going. “And I always will be one.” His contract with Mammon ensures that but Fizzarolli doesn’t feel that’s an important detail to bring up right now. Mammon doesn’t seem to be Lust’s favorite subject. “I used to be good, Sir. I’m sure you could see that from the video.” Granted, Fizz was much younger in many of those clips. A lot of the stunts he’d been seen doing were likely ones he’d never get to perform again. He was hoping Asmodeus wouldn’t know that, or wouldn’t care. One deep breath.

“It has been my dream since I was five to perform. To inspire others, to bring smiles to people, to make things better in the only way I know how.” Asmodeus’s eyebrow flicked up in amusement. Fizzarolli kept going. “I still try. I do 50 shows a week. One an hour, down at LooLoo Land? But…..I want more than that.” Breathe, Fizzy. “I want to be the best performer in Hell. I want to win Mammon’s contest. In order to do that, I need to be able to do more than sit on a stool and crack jokes.” The anger that he had yesterday wasn’t present. Fizzarolli had the feeling that Asmodeus wouldn’t take too well to anger, and Fizzarolli wasn’t feeling spiteful. The anxiety was there, yes, but he didn’t feel the need to fight his way out of it quite like he did with Mammon. Things felt calmer.

“Mamm told me you had ideas…..” Fizzarolli can’t tell if Lust is curious or cautious. Maybe he’s bored? Perhaps it was best to not try and read tone right now, he was letting Fizzarolli continue.

“Well, King Asmodeus, Sir. I know you have your deal with Mammon. About the customizable-”

“Robots, yes” There’s definitely annoyance in his tone. Shit. Breathe, Fizzarolli. The show isn’t over yet.

“They’re very advanced. Excellent design work, from what I hear. Water resistant, fully articulated, and smooth. I’ve seen the advertisements, there’s very little they can’t seem to do.” Fizzarolli wasn’t sure who’s ego he was stroking more, but if nothing more it served as a nice distraction and a good segway. “I was wondering, Sir. What the possibility would be of…..re-purposing some of the robot limbs into prosthetics?”

The room is silent, but not hollow. Asmodeus is thinking. Fizzarolli’s eyes are locked on the other’s face, studying each micro expression he can catch between the three faces.

“I’ve never thought about using the technology in that way….” That wasn’t a no. “It’s an interesting concept. I’m not sure how it would be done.”

“I have ideas for that, too, Sir.” Fizzarolli is desperate. He doesn’t have blueprints or sketches written down, his ideas are all theoretical. He doesn’t have the engineering background that he assumes Asmodeus or his team does, he’s never even taken a science class. But his ideas have gotten him places before. He didn’t have to have the solution to be part of it.

The room is silent again for a moment. Mammon won’t stop staring at the two of them. Lust is examining Fizzarolli. He could understand why Mammon had arranged for this meeting. Fizzarolli was something special, there was no denying it. Creative, resilient, hard working and dedicated…..Asmodeus wasn’t sure he could fulfill this imps dreams, but he was interested in hearing more about them at the very least.

“I’d like to hear those ideas.”

Fizzarolli’s eyes went wide. Did he manage to win over Asmodeus? No, no of course not. But this is good. This isn’t a no.

“Does this mean we have a deal, Oz?” Mammon takes the opportunity to butt in. He leaned in with his pointed grin and stretched a hand out to shake with Ozzie. Asmodeus does not take his hand.

“It means it might be possible.” Asmodeus glared at Mammon, then turned his attention back to Fizzarolli. “Do you have time this afternoon? The sooner we can go over your ideas, the sooner I’ll have an idea on what I can do to help.”

Fizzarolli wanted to say yes, but he’d taken on a shift at the milk rings stand at the theme park this afternoon. He’s not sure if Mammon knows or cares, but his attention shifts to his boss. “I-I’m supposed to work games tonight, Sir.”

“So be back tonight, Fizzy. Shit. What’s the big deal?” Fizzarolli swallowed and nodded. That isn’t an unreasonable ask. Hopefully it’ll be a slow night at the park, moving might be hard by the end of his shift.

“As long as I can get back to Greed by 4:00.”

Asmodeus nods. “I’ll clear my lunch.”

Asmodeus didn’t really have to clear anything. He hated mid-afternoon meetings and often blocked out an hour or two to be unavailable in the middle of the day. He usually spent that time finding something entertaining to do between the routine monotony that his day could become. He felt blocking out his afternoon to be with the jester would be more entertaining than anything else he’d planned on doing today.

“Are you hungry?” Asmodeus asked. Mammon had since left to go back to Greed but not before telling Fizzarolli that he better make this work on time or else his wages would be docked for the day. Fizzarolli wasn’t sure what would be waiting for him if he couldn’t convince Asmodeus that they could pull this off.

“Oh, I ah…..” Starving he wanted to say. The pizza he’d had last night was all they had in the house that hadn’t gotten raided by vermin or spoiled in the broken fridge. But he didn’t have money for food, there was no way he could pay for anything in this ring. It was all too nice. “No, I’m. I’m okay. I’ll have some popcorn when I’m back at work.”

Asmodeus’s eyes narrowed in confusion. It took him a moment to remember that Fizz was from Greed. His expectations were probably much different.

“You won’t have to pay for it. I’m offering.” Now it’s Fizzarolli’s turn to be confused.

“Mammon…”

“Mammon isn’t involved in this. I’m the ruler of this ring, I am more than allowed to offer my guests lunch. I’m keeping you during lunch hour, it’s the least I can do.” His voice was firm, but not controlling. And Fizzarolli couldn’t really argue with a single thing he had to say. Asmodeus repeated one more time. “Are you hungry? Because I could eat.”

There was no menu, Fizzarolli was told he could order whatever he wanted and it would be brought up to them. This had to be some sort of test, but what Asmodeus was testing, Fizzarolli had yet to understand. So he decided to test Asmodeus back and call his bluff.

“Are you sure you’re not from gluttony? That’s damn near Bee’s order and she’s four times your size, at least.” There wasn’t a hint of frustration or anger in Lust’s voice. Curiosity, confusion perhaps, but not anger. Fizz took that as enough of a sign that he was passing, he could continue on how he was.

“You told me to order whatever I want. If asking for robotic limbs wasn’t enough of a clue, I have expensive taste.”

“An interesting idea” Asmodeus guides the conversation back to business while his kitchens go on and prepare a feast. “I’d like to hear more about your ideas. Where did you get the inspiration?”

“I mean, you market these bots as the most advanced sex toy in the seven rings. What can’t it do?” Fizz started reciting Mammon’s commercial for the clown robots in a horrible accent. “Sixteen different positions and a customizable amount of holes! These freaky fucks can get you off standing up, laying down, while running! Program your bot to do anything you can do! Fully articulated fingers allow for extra pleasure for any type of sick fuck!….”

“That’s enough” Asmodeus commanded. Fizzarolli stilled immediately. They sat in silence for a few moments before Fizzarolli decided to speak.

“I figured if these robots could do anything you can do….why couldn’t I? I mean, I don’t even have fingers, Sir. Your robots already have an advantage.”

The silence that follows this statement isn’t tense but Fizzarolli felt his chest tighten regardless. The air in the room was cool despite the fire roaring on beside them. Each of Asmodeus’s faces appear to be thinking something different. This wasn’t the perfect pitch he’d imagined. He hadn’t even prepared a perfect pitch, he’d had so little energy in the time he’d been given. Had he fucked it up with the accent? Maybe pretending to be Mammon was a little bit too far. What was his deal with Mammon anyway?

“You make a very good point” When Fizzarolli only looked at Asmodeus in response, the sin continued on. “Now, you said you had ideas for logistics?”

Asmodeus listened. He was agreeable to this. Fizz considered this a win. Asmodeus was agreeable to it. The hardest part was over. Now they just had to figure out how to get his plans to work.

“I think the biggest problem would be the power source.” Fizzarolli started, to which Asmodeus nodded in agreement. “I don’t mind having to charge at night if that’s necessary” That was a weird sentence “But I’d like to be able to get through a day without having to be connected. Especially if I’m going to be a performer.”

“A reasonable request. The bots have a battery life averaging 30 hours…”

“But.....there’s a catch?” Fizzarolli caught on to his tone easily.

“The battery is large. It’s stored in the chest cavity.” Where Fizzarolli was made of flesh and a battery very much couldn’t go.

Fizz stuck his tongue out in a moment of contemplation. “Any chance you could make it slimmer? If you could sew it up in some cloth and make it a back brace I’d marry you.”

Asmodeus’s cracked a smile at the demon sitting across from him. He considered the idea. It wasn’t horrible, though he wasn’t entirely keen on him having to keep a battery that close to him, or having to keep a battery at all.

“And I’ve heard you have these crystals? What are they for?” The sin chuckled to himself “What I mean is, could they harness energy?”

“You really did come with ideas” Asmodeus mused. “Do you have any sketches or plans?”

Fizzarolli paused. He didn’t, he wasn’t that prepared. Confidence. “No, sir. But give me a pen and paper and I can draw up some sketches.”

The sin leaned back in his seat and nodded. Fizzarolli wondered what he was thinking.

“Alright. Would you like to see my workshop?”

#fizzarozzie #fizzmodeus #fizzarolli #asmodeus #first meeting #ao3 link in title #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #fizzarolli x asmodeus #asmodeus x fizzarolli #mammon #barbie wire #fizzmodeus fanfiction #helluva boss fanfiction #found family fizziverse

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