#;; he has no idea how to use an electric stove

[shotmrmiller]

cw: age gap, reader is mid 20s, call off the pitch forks. f!reader, smut:)

dbf!price babyyyy

dbf!price met you on your 18th birthday for the first time, and he thought nothing of you. Just a slip of woman, if he can even call you that.

you are just simon's precious daughter.

and it stayed that way for years. he came over a lot, mostly to get away from his nagging wife and occasionally he'd see you whenever you were home from college.

again, nothing other than polite.

until one day, the guys had come over for some beer and sports. price had walked into the kitchen to get himself another beer when he noticed you on your tip toes trying to get a box of cereal from the very top shelf of the pantry.

he chuckled under his breath as he heard you mutter a string of curses when your fingertips pushed the box closer to the wall and decided to intervene.

his footsteps were silent as he approached you from behind, and easily reached for the cereal, grabbing it with a large hand.

"Oh! Thank you, daddy! I don't know why you insist on-"

you choke on your spit when you turn around and realize that it's not your dad that helped you, but his friend. his captain.

a bright, rosy hue spreads across your cheeks as your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

"I- oh! oh my god i, listen, jesus, i'm so sorry mr. price i don't- i thought it was my dad, obviously. i'm so sorry god how embarrassing-"

you're babbling but john hears nothing other than the word you so sweetly said on repeat inside of his head.

daddy, daddy, daddydaddydaddy-

"-right, mr. price?"

he's snapped back to reality with your question.

"yeah, love, i'm alright. I was just thinking if i turned off the stove before coming over or not."

thank god for your naïveté because you take him for his word, and ramble about how it happens to the best of us, good thing that stoves are now electric and whatever other nonsense.

he hands you the now-indented box of cereal and swiftly steps away from you.

"i'll tell simon that he's got to be mindful of the short occupants of his house," john playfully teases.

the peal of laughter you let out sends a jolt straight to his stiffening cock.

"i'm not short! it's not my fault all of you guys are just so big!"

oh sweetheart, you have no idea how big he is.

he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from thinking about you and the pussy he undoubtedly knows is just so tight, scorching hot and arousal sweet as honey-

"i'll see ya later, mr. price!"

he blinks rapidly, smiles and watches you walk out of the kitchen and turn the corner.

john grabs himself from outside his trousers, palm shifting his now fully erect, thick length around to hide it as best he can.

damn.

he scratches the side of his bearded face, and pops open the fridge, finally grabbing a beer.

god fucking damn.

later in the evening, once he's sobered up enough, he goes home and he fucks his wife with renewed vigor, until she's a sobbing mess under him, clawing at his broad back with her nails, and her walls spasming around him, drenching him with her slick.

john comes violently, black dots peppering his vision and a guttural groan clawing its way out of his throat, your name on the very tip of his tongue.

he doesn't hold his wife as she falls asleep just as how he left her- naked, body cooling with sweat, cunt full of his spend.

this mutton is not the lamb he wants.

[spongeyspot]

can I please have some Arthur Morgan headcanons? here’s some ideas for it

His experience at a target

getting a little treat after a hard day of work

being a passenger princess

basically following his new “caretaker” around while he figures out the modern world.

1890s!Arthur being thrown into the modern world HC

A/N: I'm gonna go with the last two bc I find it so funny. ALSO: I should clarify, that this isn't a relationship hc. The reader (You/yours pronouns) is g/n, and Arthur becomes their roommate

(And they were roommates...)

Arthur Morgan was in the blast zone of Francis Sinclair's time machine and accidentally hitched a ride to the year 2023.

- Gets hit by (your) a car when he wandered into the street

- It took him quite a bit to come to terms that this place was not the one he once knew

- Wants to get home so badly, but it seems he's stuck. He can't find Vincent Sinclair anywhere.

- He seeks out your help and at first, when he explains his predicament, you think he's a crazy homeless guy

- He tries to go off on his own to figure things out but comes back immediately because things have changed so much from the place he once knew.

- He also almost got hit by another car

- You decide you want to show Arthur the finer things in life, first starting with getting vaccinated... God knows how many diseases Arthur would be exposed to, let alone the ones he already has.

- Also a toothbrush because his breath is probably rancid

- He sleeps on your couch for a while

- eventually moves into your spare bedroom and starts having to pay some of the rent

- He'd have to work under the table because his birth certificate says he was born in 1864...

- Probably gets a job with Construction or Bartending

- Also, clean slate? No Bounty! Hell yeah!

- tends to follow you everywhere because he likes how you explain modern life to him

- You got him a cell phone.

- He's never trying to be funny when he asks questions

- "What the hell is a "tik-tok"?"

- "Blue-tooth? Never heard of that, only gold ones... I used to sell em'."

- "And you can just.. talk to this? And it'll bring ya food?? Whenever ya want???"

- holds the phone pinched between two fingers on either side like he's holding a pair of dirty underwear and starts to yell at it that he wants some steak

- Absolutely blown away by pizza

- Astonished when he sees no horses, just giant metal boxes with wheels that seem to move on their own.

- When you explain how it worked and what it was, he called it a "magic stagecoach" for a while

- Passenger princess

- fascinated by modern music. It just comes out of your magic stagecoach with the press of a button?

- Huge Bon Jovi fan. his favorite song is "Wanted Dead or Alive".

- asks "What does this button do?" seconds before he presses it

- holds the "oh shit" handle in your car at all times.

-The first time he was in your car he probably actually screamed

- you got him an electric beard trimmer for Christmas and he acted like you handed him a gold ingot

- quite honestly starts to warm up to the domestic life. having to rob and steal to keep himself alive weighed on him way more than he liked to admit.

- adores movie nights. Movies in the 1900s-2023 are incredibly different than the motion pictures he was used to.

- after he gets used to this new world, he WANTS A MOTORCYCLE SO BAD but opts for a pickup truck instead because it's more convenient

- Insists on cooking dinner on the weekends

- didn't understand your gas stove the first time and he almost blew up your apartment

[devilst0at]

We need Dale headcanons for like his everyday life. What do you think he does? How many times does this man jack off a day😭

I feel like he probably doesn’t do much, to be honest 😭 yes, there is probably some jacking off involved because wtf else is he gonna do. Poor thing is probably lonely and bored. Making dolls would take up the majority of his time I feel like, they’re his duty and really his life’s main purpose. I feel like he does everything to serve the devil in a way, but also parts of the real him do show through his interests and such.

Maybe.. sleeps, takes little naps when he’s bored, writes, maybe listens to music or sits on the floor and strums on the electric guitar he has, organizes and cleans, and every once in a while goes on a little outing. Obviously he goes to the hardware store/craft store to pick up supplies for his dolls, but I could also see him going to used bookstores every once in a while, scanning the occult section for anything he didn’t see last time. Maybe he would also go to small antique or thrift stores and just kinda shuffle around awkwardly.

He probably doesn't have much of a normal routine since he's constantly in that basement. His idea of time must be somewhat warped. I mean, I imagine he would probably stay up into the night and early morning sometimes and then nod off while reading and not wake up until afternoon. I wonder what he eats, does Ruth make him food or does he buy stuff for himself? It's not like he'd have a stove down there though, and he would need to eat actual food eventually so I think Ruth probably brings him stuff at least once a day. I feel like he’d probably snack on popcorn, pretzels, pudding cups, fritos etc in between meals, just lame easy to store snacks. I would love to make him a nice meal like steak or something and give him a kiss on the forehead like here bbg let me take care of you :[

I feel like he’d be lonely and bored when he isn’t making dolls 😭 Maybe sometimes he’d lay on his bed and just stare off into nothing, thinking about things, sulking. Or he’d go for a drive and not go anywhere in particular, just staring off into the wilderness and the trees passing him until it gets dark and then going home, as much as Ruth’s house can be home. Maybe sometimes he likes to listen to music and do his makeup, we see in some younger shots that he used to and maybe still does wear some eyeshadow, so perhaps for fun or to feel better he’d do some makeup in front of his little mirror, look at himself for a bit then wear it til he goes to bed. Maybe do something cute like lipsinc in front of the mirror or try on his old clothes. I could also see him picking up sewing or something, especially for making clothes for his dolls.

Let’s be fr, he also probably has a collection of old fashioned porno magazines, judging from the fact that he has pinups on his walls… I think he’s mostly just kinda sad and washed up though, there’s obviously a lot of personality and also genuine talent in him but the duty he’s been chosen to serve and therefore the life he must live doesn’t always allow for that to shine all the way through. Still, he does what he can to maintain some semblance of purpose and individuality outside of being a servant for the devil.

[juustozzi]

more inajapan shenanigans in finland! quick edits on lq photos of train doodles, which you can see from the overall quality, haha..

no owlposting goes without culture explantion:

1st comic: soccer is "jalkapallo" in finnish, but it might be hard for japanese to pronouce correctly, due to japanese language not having the "L" sound finnish has (the L sound is tied to japanese R, which for explains how sometimes names with R in japanese are romanized with L). depending on the area, soccer can also be shortened to "jalis" or "futis" (from swedish "futbol" for soccer, I think?).

(oh! and someone mentioned in tags or somewhere that they think Endou would be good with languages? that made me think that what if Endou's good with them, but just not good at studying them? like, textbooks do him nothing, but when he's surrounded in another language, he's like a sponge and learns it like nothing on the go? I think I really like that idea!)

2nd comic: I actually drew this after watching the scenery on a 3 hour train ride - if you travel long distances here (on train or motorways), you'll see mostly forests, fields and lakes. especially up in north, there will be like swams too, but... it's pretty empty here. (I might be biased, but I personally love the scenery) ((and it was kinda freaky to visit tokyo and think that there was a looot more people than in my whole freaking country.....)

3rd comic:

sauna habits. yes, we gather a bunch of birch branches and hit each other with them. no, it actually feels good!! it's hard to hit so hard it'd hurt, the leaves feel nice and it smells good. you can also find them sold in bigger stores, right in the freezer section.

rally english: the way of pronouncing english like you pronounce finnish. it's dumb and fun and usually done by race drivers, hence the name. also to note: if you write it down, no english speaker understands, but every finn can read it (ai käänt rait it pat ai vil trai) ((if you want to hear it, here's a video. watch at least the first clip because poor timo...))

also: "voi juukelis puukelis" is literally how the finnish subs translate saiki k's "yare yare daze" and I love it so erne is gonna say it, even though I doubt no one actually says it

also also: not important but a fun fact, traditionally with summer cottages and other summer places, the sauna is a separate building. the living place is a bit further inland, and the sauna is close to the body of water. some newer cottages etc. can have another sauna in the actual building too, usually with an electric stove, instead of wood-heated ones used in the separate sauna.

[misc-obeyme]

what kind of face do you think Barbatos would make if he learned I microwave my tea? i need a constant stream of tea usually and microwaving is the fastest way to get a cup of hot water, if the hot water kettle isn't already going. 1 minute and tea bag and it's already drinkable.

if he told me to wait and went to make me a proper cuppa id probably wither and just beg him to microwave water and a tea bag. do you think he would disown me?

Yes, anon. I do think he would disown you.

I mean, no I don't actually think he'd disown you, but it'd be kinda cute, right? He's so appalled that he just kinda has to take a time out. Can't think clearly about it until he has his own calming cup of tea. And then he feels better and starts brainstorming ideas to help you with this issue.

Now, when you say the hot water kettle are we talking the traditional stove top situation? Because you know they make electric kettles, right? They're muuuuch faster. You can also get a Keurig type situation.

Why does this matter? you may be asking. It all makes water hot, right?

Yeah, technically. But in order to steep tea correctly, your water has to be a specific temperature. And you can't really get a specific temp with a microwave. Whereas most Keurigs and electric kettles either automatically heat the water to the correct temperature or you can change their settings so they do.

This is so your tea isn't too bitter.

And if you want my honest opinion, I doubt Barbatos uses tea bags, either.

He strikes me as a loose leaf only kinda guy, maybe using a tea bag if he's in a pinch or something.

However, I think Barbatos is likely to just... make you a whole pot. He'll put the loose leaf tea directly into the pot, followed by the water already heated to the right temperature, then let it steep the correct amount of time depending on the type of tea. Then he'll have a little strainer for you to catch the tea leaves in as you pour the tea from pot to cup.

A pot will last you a lot longer than a single cup. And I'd be really surprised if he didn't have a spell for keeping the pot warm until the tea is gone.

And then he'd just make sure you never run out.

Of course, if you have any interest in iced tea, you wouldn't need to worry about any of this. Because you can cold brew any type of tea. Leave a pitcher of it in the fridge over night and bam - tea all day.

HOWEVER. Since you did ask me what kind of face he would make, I'm going to subject you to my terrible art skills to demonstrate how I think it'd go. Now you can all see why I'm not an artist.

He's upset.

I mean, I would be too if someone drew me so badly. I'm sorry, Barb. My MC is an artist, but I'm not, I'm afraid. I just realized I forgot to give him a nose. I MEAN that was totally on purpose, it's a style choice. Anyway, I hope the frown at least conveys how sad he is about you microwaving your tea lol.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hey hey-!!ahhh ive just had a marvelous idea-! So I was thinking house wife! Reader w yandere! Sanemi, tengen(+his wives with him if that's okay), giyu, mitsuri, (and maybe rengoku, but I don't want to overload you so you don't have to add him-!!). I was thinking of house wife reader, who has a electrix fly swatter-! So-- here's an example of how she uses it; someone enters the kitchen while shes cooking right? She tells them to leave and it'll be ready soon, they don't.. So.. She taps them on the hand with fly swatter and shocks them!! "Hya!! Take that-!!" (Not hard enough to actually hurt though!!) So long, so sorry!! Thank you for your time lovely💗💗

Ah! I’ll try it! I’ll do kinda-short stories for each to spice things up! I would love to add Kyojuro but five is too many!

Yandere! Shinazugawa Sanemi

Sanemi was irritated and calm as he slowly walked up to his Estate, blood staining his snowy white haori and sheathed katana’s hilt. He may have been done with today and his many missions but he was very eager to get home to his beloved wife. Though, his brief excitement as he thought about you was cut short when he heard a sudden yelp echo past the closed front window, leading into the kitchen

Concern started pumping through his bloodstream in a instant, as he immediately drew his katana and kicked down the mansion’s massive doorway, prepared to murder whatever demon was trying to attack his wife. Rushing down the hallways at his top speed, he leaped off his heels to turn the corner, pushing open the kitchen door with his shoulder

Flaring his katana threateningly, he was ready. But the sight before him relieved his tense nerves quickly yet made him feel still a bit on edge. You, with a electric fly swatter raised over your head as you pouted at the demon crouched before you. The demon was holding it’s hand, clearly, it was shocked by the fly swatter

“It’s not ready yet and it’s not for you! Don’t try take it!” You chirp mad with that soft silky voice of yours, readjusting your apron over your elegant kimono. “Naughty boy!” You suddenly say in a scolding manner, before turning around and facing your husband. Your eyes glowed with joy as you smiled at Sanemi, making his frown convert into a prideful and excited grin in a instant. He was obsessive over that smile, he could look at it all day

“Welcome back, my love. Dinner is nearly ready. I kinda got distracted!” You remark nervously, quickly returning to the stove and the boiling pot of rice, ready to be served with the rest of the piping hot parts of the delicious bento box you were making, originally as a surprise for Sanemi. Veins of rage grew on Sanemi’s forehead as he glared deadly lasers at the demon laid there pathetically. This demon deserved unbelievable lord of hell for bothering you, a crime punishable by death

In a mere blink, the Wind Hashira diced up the lowly demon on the floor into the tiniest chunks that disappeared into black ash quickly, all in movements you couldn’t possibly concept as he mindlessly dropped his katana when the deed was done and threw his arms around you in a slight tackle-hug, basking in your warmth and comfortable skin as you turned off the stove

He missed you dearly. He hated being away from you, but at least he always gets to see the wife he is so insane for every single day and nobody will lay their hands on you, Sanemi will ensure you’ll stay safe and his forever and ever

Yandere! Uzui Tengen(+ a bit of his wives)

Tengen laughed pridefully, accompanied by his beloved three wives on each of his sides as the big couple walked back up to the one and only eccentric Sound Estate after they left in the morning for a important business meeting, arriving back in the late evening. All four are beyond excited to see their precious little housewife again. The three girls chatted among each other as Tengen thought intently about you, your beautiful face and the amazing memories of his wedding with you

Suma hopped up the elevated steps hyperactive and ready to relax on her futon, going ahead her husband and co-wives and dainty hand reaching for the huge classy doorway. All four stopped in sync, raw fear shooting through until it clouded their rational thinking when they heard the loud noise of a splatter against the wall, something like a liquid spraying

Tengen immediately shot off his powerful heels with no more thought left, other than extreme concern for your safety, traversing through the flashy and luxurious halls so fast, he simply blurred by like he was a semi-invisible insect. The three Uzui wives followed their much quicker husband in a rush, pushing off the nearby wall to get a further boost forward as their usual running speed couldn’t keep up. Are you okay? Are you hurt? The Uzui wives stopped in place at Tengen’s still self, he kicked down the kitchen door he stood before

Blocking the kitchen’s entrance with his massive frame and shielding his three wives, the Sound Hashira rose his mighty Cleavers up and ready to strike, the three women close behind prepared their on-standby Kunai incase their husband needed backup. The scene before the unsuspecting four almost made Tengen giggle outloud, despite the immense concern and anger he was currently experiencing

You huffing annoyed, quickly fishing out the recently cooked Tempura onto the pile of cooling down Tempura and turning off the piping hot deep fry device as the demon clutched it’s shoulder with shocks coursing through its flesh, leant up against the nearby wall. The electric fly swatter rested in your palm as you flared it enough for the demon to see and a opened carton of milk was discarded on the floor, making a small puddle of white liquid

“Making me leave my post… What a naughty young man! Trying to take my food when it’s not even finished!” You frowned annoyed and grumbled under your breath. You were quite occupied with fixing up the dinner that you didn’t notice your husband neither co-wives were standing silently the doorway

Suma cried out, throwing herself onto your waist and accidentally pushing you up against the counter, sobbing loudly and pressing her cheek onto your stomach. She was so unbelievably worried that you had gotten hurt by the demon, thankfully, she and her loves arrived just in time to protect you and her heart was returning to usual pace in relief

“Dokusssha! I’m so so so so soooo relieved that you didn’t get hurt! Thank you, gods!” Makio growled annoyed at Suma, yanking her off entirely and scolding her for hurting your back when shoving you up against the counter’s hard rim. “I’m sorry, Dokusha. I’m happy that you’re okay” Makio remarked much gentler towards you before going back to arguing with Suma

Hinatsuru chimed in gently, checking your hands for any burns from the hot stove and your body for any injuries, feeling around for any wet but luckily, nothing. The demon hadn’t gotten the chance to try get up from it’s place as Tengen rushed over to the demon in a single blink of the eye and swung his mighty cleavers in a up-swipe, cutting the pathetic being’s head clean off and then carelessly walking away from the body beginning to shed off into clumps of black dust

“How wonderful. You’re in perfect condition, I’m glad” She purred pleased and relieved as Tengen came back to you and running his gigantic hands across your rosy cheeks, relief poured out of him like oxygen as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead, a loving kiss. All four were so happy that they came home to you alive and well, for everyday to be the same as today would make them all happy enough to never ask for anything again

Yandere! Tomioka Giyuu

What a beautiful present for his and his wife’s first year anniversary. A golden promise ring decorated by a big F/G gem. Giyuu smiled internally to himself as he imagined your reaction to it, such praise and rosy cheeks falling off you as you proclaim how much you love him. He was beyond excited to get back to the Water Estate

Each step felt like a eternity, yet he was so close as he passed through the gates with the bag clung to his wrist. He finally reached the big front door of the mansion and placed a hand on the wooden frame when a very loud thud emitted from the furthest right window

Where the kitchen is. Giyuu dropped the bag in as extreme panic coursed through him and rushed through the halls after slamming the door open, quickly finding his cleaned and sharpened katana perched on the wall besides his bedroom door. Snatching it out of the hilt, Giyuu breathed heavy on speeding feet

He needed to get to you before the demon in the house could lay it’s filthy hands on you. Pasting through the maze like halls as fast as he could, Giyuu pushed open the door with all his might, almost breaking it and positioned himself ready to perform Dead Calm but all his bloodthirsty means washed away at what he saw it

You, scolding the demon on it’s knees before you with a big pan of cooked salmon discarded on the floor and the electric fly swatter in your hand as you smacked the whiny demon’s back again. Causing it to twitch with the electric shock

“Why would you touch my husband’s dinner! I spent all day on that! Naughty! So naughty!” You chirp madly, crossing your arms disappointed. But your anger didn’t last long as you felt Giyuu suddenly grab your hand and that drew your attention onto him. You smiled in a instant, blushing at the feeling of him pressing a passionate kiss onto your knuckles

“Hello, my love. I’m sorry about the mess, I accidentally dropped your dinner but I’ll fix it, I—”

“I don’t care, Dokusha. I’m just so thankful that you’re okay” Giyuu avoided the food mess on the floor with careful slight movements to reach you, wrapping a arm around your waist possessively, after he finished worshipping your hand, and pointing his katana at the demon. Giyuu’s glare of pure disgust and hatred was more than sharp enough to dice the demon on it’s own. He can barely stand anybody looking at or touching his wife, let alone a dangerous animal like a demon

Giyuu gently pushed you out of the way with his eyes still on the demon, so you won’t be in any risk as he swung down his sword, dicing the demon into thin slices, like how you cut cheese, before turning back to you and kissing your forehead

Giyuu could care less for the mess of wasted food nor the demon, he loves you too much to let you go, so all he truly cares for is having you with him for everyday. The little time he gets to spend with you is driving him lunatic, more than he already is. He genuinely believes that you deserve to have every ounce of his love so he does it, with no problem

Yandere! Kanroji Mitsuri

Almost overwhelming excitement bubbled so much in her tummy, she felt like her blood was becoming as weightless as balloons. Mitsuri hopped forward, like a curious little bunny on her way to her eccentric mansion, the Love Estate where she knew, her beloved wife awaited for her to come back

Even if she hadn’t done any gruelling missions but instead gone to pick up groceries for you, Mitsuri was still very happy to see you again as she missed you. She always has been so joyous merely seeing you clean the kitchen counter, quietly and calmly before bringing over the dinner you made for her. She loved how cute you are, her little housewife and her relief over the fact she got to marry you over every man was endless

Mitsuri, with many bags full of fresh groceries strapped to her back, over her shoulder and on her left hand as her right hand reached out to the pretty home’s massive doorway. She was about to push it open, her smile unbreaking until the sound of something hitting the wall. What… what was that? Mitsuri asked herself, panic and anger rushing through her in a instant

Without care, she kicked the door wide open and shot off like a speeding cannon towards the nearby cupboard, laid her signature katana. She didn’t have time to unsheathe as she pulled the entire thing away from where it sat and pushed off on the corner to keep running. You’re in danger, you’re in danger

How did a demon get in?! When did a demon get in?! Are you okay?! God, please don’t take you away from her, Mitsuri knew she wouldn’t be able to live anymore if she lost you. Quickly charging through the door of the kitchen, she knocked it down altogether but she didn’t care as the bags of groceries she couldn’t take off in time were half empty, a trail of food was left behind her but thankfully, all intact

Mitsuri’s eyes watered in thankfulness and she bit back her cries as you were in the far corner with your hands on your hips and the electric fly swatter cupped between your left palm and hip. The demon was growling lightly at you, the thing thrown was a pot that laid on the floor besides the door. Clearly, the demon tried to knock you out with a pot but you were faster

“Don’t touch the food! It’s hot and it’s not ready!” You scold firmly, keeping your trusty fly swatter on the go as you frowned and shook your head at the demon’s lack of response nor understanding. You sighed before speaking in a slightly disappointed tone; “So naughty…” The stove you were previously using was off and the ramen noodles you were cooking was still left steaming in the stiffer

Mitsuri cried audibly with no more self-control left, grabbing onto you and pulling you towards her. She wrapped your dainty yet mighty arms around you tightly, softly sobbing in relief and digging her nose in your nape to breath in your beautiful perfume. She was so afraid she lost you in that moment. The Love Hashira hissed back when the demon begun hissing like a feral cat

“How dare you… how dare… you… try hurt my precious wife” Mitsuri barked, openly aggressive and openly furious. She didn’t bother trying to hide her rage any further as she unsheathed her thin ribbon-like katana in one smooth motion, gently moving you out of the way so she can swing it with no risk of cutting you, the lengthy metal twirled in a tornado style as it quickly sliced the demon into ten equal parts

She watched it start to dissolve into smoky dust, metaphorical steam blowing out of her nose as you laughed gently at her, moving one of her long braids off her shoulder. The delicate gesture snapped Mitsuri back to reality, she dropped her katana and hugged you again, smiling and sniffling at the same time

Yes, Mitsuri has made quite the mess with the groceries she was so carefully bringing home but she did not care a single inch. She will happily sacrifice a dinner or five to make sure you are safe and healthy and now that her anxiety has died out, she will silently cuddle you until she has to go back to clean up her mess

[vividentropy]

Entry #1

The Entries Catalog | Monday, July 8, 2024

12:36 PM

I finally got my ass out of bed. Today, Hurricane Beryl decided to make its way here. We have no electricity, so I have no idea when this will be posted.

At least I charged my laptop so I can at least write what’s been going on. The back door suddenly opened from the wind. I ran over there to close and lock it. Figured my dad could just knock the shit out of the door when he needed to go in, but mom said to leave it unlocked and just make sure it was closed well. So, I did that. Then I told my cat he was a good boy for not running outside when the door was wide open. See, he’s a retired veteran from the outdoors. Usually, he would sprint the moment he sees his chance to relive his younger years but not this time. I take it the wind was too intimidating for him. I still called him a good boy for not running out.

My family got lucky. All we’re getting is high winds and no electricity. Some areas north and west of ours got flooding and worse damage. Don’t even want to think of the areas south of us. My far neighbor’s tree got split in half with some of the branches on top of the car. Three small parts of the fence in our backyard got toppled down. Those won’t be repaired until my parents come back from their trip. I can hear the rumble of a generator from a neighbor in another street. I wonder how they got their generator set up. It always powers on immediately when there’s no power and off when there is. I’ll ask my dad one day.

Currently, my mom is making homemade chili. We have a gas stove, so we can still cook food. We also have plenty of water. My family uses this water service this for our water dispenser thingy upstairs. They send several three-gallon things of water. I have some right now. My dad is working on our generator, wondering when my brother will get up. My mom is back to crocheting a shirt and my sis is reading this book on seeds. My cat is just laying on the floor all cute and stuff.

I’m not gonna lie, it is a tad humid in here. Thankfully, the sun is covered by the clouds, so we aren’t dying of the heat, but we do have light to see.  I do have a handheld fan that I’ll grab in a second. That and more water since I’m thirsty as fuck.

Off in the distance I hear someone using a chainsaw. Probably to cut down the tree branches they can cut off. That’s wild, to be honest. The wind is strong enough to push me aside like tumbleweed. I have to use force to push the door shut. It’s not as bad as Harvey or Ike (I do recall with Ike that the wind being so strong I could see the wind punching the door partially open). But I know there’s still others less fortunate out there than I.

Anyways, to better things.

Yesterday, I downloaded FFXIV Online. I downloaded the free trial. Definitely did not expect it to take over six hours to download, but it did. I spent all that time waiting watching YouTube videos from AstralSpiff and Chickeninja42. The moment everything was done downloading, I hopped on the game. I only got as far as character creation. Which is not far, to be honest. But I did finish the character! I customized her the same way as I do in every video game that I own that has character customization - white hair, red eyes, fair skin, and some muscle. Her hair had to pulled back. Funny enough, choosing the voice I wanted for her took longer than anything else. It was great having my sister helping me out though. Not that she plays the game, but I like having her input. If I have time and electricity, I’ll put a picture of her below this paragraph.

[I am absolutely not in my computer to screenshot. RIP.]

I hope we get electricity back soon, but my gut tells me it’ll be a good while before it comes back. Maybe tomorrow morning. Will I even work tomorrow?

Eyyy, my brother finally made it downstairs. I’ll take it as my cue to go write or do something else. Cause, to be honest, I can only type as long as this laptop battery will last me.

5:41 PM

Electricity isn’t back yet. I’ve spent the last several hours napping my life away after I ate. For some reason the tiredness washed over me. Could keep my eyes open. So far, my phone is on 80% because I haven’t been using it. I need to remember to call my boyfriend later because I want to hear his voice. We won’t be able to FaceTime today which sucks but that’s okay. I need him to know that I’m alright. I mean, he knows I’m okay, but I want him to hear it out of my mouth.

The sky is blue. Like nothing ever happened. My mom stuck her tongue out at it.

I did finally wash my hair. I didn’t put conditioner, just leave-in. My lower back pain flared up which made me cut my wash time in half. Let’s see how long my hair lasts. For now, I’ll just sit here and talk to my mom and sister.

7:10 PM

My dad and brother got the generator working. It’s working upstairs for sure. Got my phone charging. I think they’re trying to get the refrigerator and freezer to turn on. I’m just saying, we can do without the TV. And we could just keep the power downstairs instead of both. I can sleep on the floor that’s chill.

For now, my mom is going to find something for us to eat. I am going to try to cool down some more. All I want is to cool down. At least the A/C is on so the upstairs can cool down. There’s nothing much else to say.

I did talk to my boyfriend on the phone for a little bit, but the call dropped. It was nice hearing his voice. He’s more freaked out than me, but in his defense, I’m used to this.

Just talked to bro. He said the freezer and fridge are working. He’s going to turn off the A/C because we don’t have enough gas. That’s cool, to be honest. We can survive the heat for a little while. It could always be worse. I have my handheld fan, it’ll be okay.

8:11 PM

WE GOT POWER BACK, BABY! Wifi isn’t working but honestly, I don’t care.

I’d like to thank the hard workers who oversee the electricity shit because I know they’ve been working nonstop. I also like to thank my boyfriend for being patient with me. Honestly, just give it up to the electricians who were working honestly all-day getting shit done.

Now, I have to be real, I’m probably one of the lucky ones. While the storm was only during the day, there’s probably still well over a million people without power. I hope they get theirs soon. For now, I’m going to finally relax, maybe take a cup of decaf coffee, and continue playing minesweeper for the rest of the night. Hey, I might even get on YouTube. I’ll see what I’ll do.

Until next time,

Vivid Entropy

[the-feral-one]

Say, how'd Wo-Chien handle the technological/scientific advancement of... Well, everything. I mean, it must have been quiet a shock to wake up to a world that's alien to him. To moving pictures, to medicines that cures, roughly, everything... Must've been a lot to take in. And what would be his favorite piece of technology/science?

Wo-Chien has lived in Paldea since it was ruled by royalty, and he's seen two kings come and go(with the first being eliminated by his own hand..err..vine), and he earned his freedom after asking for it and having it be granted by a mon that he only got to know while conversing through a hole in the shrine wall. After wandering around for another few hundred years following those events, Wo got to see the rise of the Paldean industrial revolution.

During that time, he was kept very busy. Wo wasn't an assist mon, but he did help the humans build their towns, and he wrote down their ideas so they wouldn't be forgotten. The snail got to see a lot of what went on, including the formation of what would be known as Mesagoza, and the various inventions that were made by those that requested that he wrote down their ideas.

Wo-Chien still embraces progress, even in the modern day. He likes to see new inventions, which often leads to him thinking about what they could do for him if he got to use them.

Over the years, he's been introduced to things like roombas, electric stoves, solar panels and smartphones by those who have more knowledge about them than he does. Wo-Chien makes sure to write down as much as he can whenever he's told about them, including how they work so that he could figure out how to use them on his own.

Wo also likes the older tech too. In the Mesagoza cinema, he got to find out about what sort of projectors they used in the past to show movies. The sort of machine used - one of those big bulky ones that most likely had to be wound up - intrigues him so very much. He spends quite a while looking over the one that they have in the Mesagoza 'Museum of Cinema', pondering about how it works.

Wo-Chien does like movies. He was there in Mesagoza when the city's cinema opened, and from then onwards he's been a regular patron. When he goes to see movies, Wo usually stays for several at a time, and his favorite genres are comedy, vintage(those old silent black and white ones), old horror(like '2001: A Space Odyssey' and 'The Thing'), murder mystery, and anything by Wes Anderson.

Wo knows that medicines don't cure everything, but that doesn't stop him from looking into them to find out more about them. He sometimes helps the science students in the academy with their studies, offering his plants to become parts in their experimental remedies. One day he would like to see medication get invented that does cure every disease...but, until then, he'll keep thinking about it.

His favorite parts of science would be biology, and he has a big liking for botany. He also likes to look into things like prehistoric life too(both the plants of the past as well as the animals that existed way back when), as he's heard of fossil Pokemon, but hasn't seen any. He hopes to do so one day so he can write about them.

Wo's favorite tech includes the Rotom Phone, the roomba, the electric stove, solar panels, and big bulky old movie projectors.

[canary0]

May 7 - Dracula 2023

I finally had a chance to rest the last day or so, and it’s the wee hours in the morning again when I get to this. When I finally woke up yesterday, I found a cold breakfast laid out with coffee kept warm on the hearth. Another reminder of the lack of electricity – the last time I’d had a drink warmed like that was hot chocolate on a friend’s wood stove during an especially cold winter, and it was more out of enjoy the ambiance of doing so than necessity.

This may be the greatest wealth I’ve ever been around personally, which makes the things lacking stand out all the more. The table setting is made of gold of all things, and wrought with great beauty and detail. All of the fabrics in the room were equally fine and elaborate and the designs didn’t look like any kind of modern reproduction. They reminded me of some of the historical displays in Hampton court, but far better preserved. Even if they weren’t so finely woven and of fine materials, they would represent enormous historic value.

Yet, despite the ostentation, there are no mirrors anywhere that I could find. There wasn’t even a mirror for shaving, so I had to use my phone’s camera in selfie mode to shave and brush my hair. Not exactly what I wanted to use its reserves of power for, but it’s important to look professional in front of a client. Consider this a note to self to pack a mirror in the future just in case.

Once I had finished grooming myself, breakfast (or dinner? It was around 5 or six when I ate), getting dressed, etc, I looked for something to read, since I didn’t want to go wandering around without permission and I didn’t want to waste my laptop’s charge. There was nothing in my room, bookshelf, writing materials or anything like that… which seemed odd, since without electricity or internet, writing seems rather important. I opened another door in the room, and lo and behold, it was the complete opposite.

Books lined multiple shelves in the room, all in English, as well as bound volumes of magazines and newspapers. The table at the center was covered in books, magazines, and newspapers, as well, though they didn’t look recent. The subjects – aside from all being related to English life and customs and whatnot – were as varied as you could imagine, in every conceivable direction. Botany, geography, politics, history, law, you name it, there was a book on it. Plus, there were a lot of reference books, like an ancient print copy of the London Directory, GDP estimates, the Financial Statement and Budget Report from a few years ago (before COVID, it’s grimly amusing to think how much that has likely changed), and Almanac, the Army, Navy, and Law Lists, which haven’t been published since before 2000. It was like the conspiracy room of someone who’d gotten it into their head that England didn’t exist.

Photo by Gabriel Ghnassia on Unsplash (https://unsplash.com/photos/VmS8VQ0n39Q)

While I explored the vast array of book, the Count entered and gave me a hearty wave and said, “I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is much that will interest you. These companions have been good friends to me, and for some years past, ever since I had the idea of going to London, have given me many, many hours of pleasure. Through them I have come to know your great England; and to know her is to love her. I long to go through the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its change, its death, and all that makes it what it is. But alas! as yet I only know your tongue through books. To you, my friend, I look that I know it to speak.”

He said alas out loud in a sentence with no irony. I could assess the issue. “You speak English very well and clearly know it thoroughly. I suppose you mean getting a feel for natural conversation in it?”

He bowed gravely. “You estimate is all too flattering, but the latter is accurate. I know the words and the grammar, but should I move and speak in your London, there are none who would not know me for a foreigner. That is not enough for me. Here I am noble; I am boyar; the common people know me, and I am master. But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one; men know him not—and to know not is to care not for. I am content if I am like the rest, so that no man stops if he see me, or pause in his speaking if he hear my words, ‘Ha, ha! a stranger!’ I have been so long master that I would be master still—or at least that none other should be master of me. You come to me not alone as agent of my friend Peter Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about my new estate in London. You shall, I trust, rest here with me awhile, so that by our talking I may learn the English intonation; and I would that you tell me when I make error, even of the smallest, in my speaking. I am sorry that I had to be away so long to-day; but you will, I know, forgive one who has so many important affairs in hand.”

It felt a little sad that someone would be so worried about seeming too foreign, but after the treatment of Polish people and the whole Brexit thing, I could understand. Not wanting to stand out in England’s current political climate is nothing if not understandable for someone purchasing an estate with intent to move there. Naturally, I assured him I would be more than happy to help, and asked if it was all right for me to come and go in this room as I pleased.

“Yes, certainly,” he agreed, and added, “You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the doors are locked, where of course you will not wish to go. There is reason that all things are as they are, and did you see with my eyes and know with my knowledge, you would perhaps better understand.”

“Yes, indeed. I can only imagine,” I agreed. My mind naturally drifted back to the experiences I wrote about on my way here.

“We are in Transylvania; and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things. Nay, from what you have told me of your experiences already, you know something of what strange things there may be.”

It seemed like a perfect segue into all the questions I had wanted to ask about local superstitions, rumors, practices, all the things I had seen an experienced on my way in. He answered most of what I had to ask straightforwardly, though occasionally he tried to shift subjects or pretended to understand, and I let it go aside from making a mental note about it. There seems to be a lot of sudden disappearing language knowledge going around. I eventually asked him about some of the previous night’s experiences as time went on, like the coachman going out and building caerns where he saw the blue flames. He explained that apparently there was a common belief that at last night in particular (when all evil supposedly holds sway) blue flames appear where treasure has been concealed.

“That treasure has been hidden,” he went on, “in the region through which you came last night, there can be but little doubt; for it was the ground fought over for centuries by the Wallachian, the Saxon, and the Turk. Why, there is hardly a foot of soil in all this region that has not been enriched by the blood of men, patriots or invaders. In old days there were stirring times, when the Austrian and the Hungarian came up in hordes, and the patriots went out to meet them—men and women, the aged and the children too—and waited their coming on the rocks above the passes, that they might sweep destruction on them with their artificial avalanches. When the invader was triumphant he found but little, for whatever there was had been sheltered in the friendly soil.”

I’m sure I looked confused to him when I asked, “How isn’t everyone going out on that night to try and find these treasures?”

“Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those flames only appear on one night; and on that night no man of this land will, if he can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear sir, even if he did he would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame would not know where to look in daylight even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare be sworn, be able to find these places again?”

Peasant, was it? He did mention how he was nobility – or at least was before Romania changed its government structure, and before communism and whatnot. He stilled seemed to hold some sway in the local area from the way people behaved. I suppose that sort of thinking is to be expected. Still, I mentioned, with not a little hesitation, considering his apparent passion on the subject, “If I had marked them on a map, I probably could.”

He chuckled at that. “There are very few maps of this land, my friend.”

I wasn’t sure whether to bring GPS into this discussion, so I simply nodded in agreement. Come to think of it, I have little sense of direction after the coachmen took us hither and yon the other night.

Note to self: figure out how to use the offline GPS once I’m done writing here.

The conversation wound away into other things soon after. “Come, tell me of London and the house which you have procured for me,” he said, making a sort of inviting gesture. I apologized for getting so off-track and got up to go get my laptop and the printed materials for him. As I did, I heard a clattering in the other room, and by the time I had everything sorted out and came back, all the food was taken care of, the lamps were lit, and the Count was laying back on the couch, reading the National Rail Timetable from 2007, the last time it was printed. When I arrived, he cleared off the table and I opened my laptop and started going into figured and details of all sorts about the place, its surroundings, and the neighborhood past that. I brought up the pictures I had taken of the area and what I had gathered from the real estate listing. In the end, he seemed to know a lot more than even I did about the place, though the pictures were very interesting to him.

When I commented that it seemed like he knew everything there was to know about it, he replied, “Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should? When I go there I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker Jonathan—nay, pardon me, I fall into my country’s habit of putting your patronymic first—my friend Jonathan Harker will not be by my side to correct and aid me. He will be in Exeter, miles away, probably working at papers of the law with my other friend, Peter Hawkins. So!”

We went over all the contracts and informational documents, and he signed everywhere he needed to. I was halfway through typing out an email to send to Mr. Hawkins about it when I remembered that my little generator was the only thing with electricity. I shut off the computer and wrote out the letter by hand instead.

I also read out my notes about Carfax to him: “At Purfleet I found a listing for a property that seemed to meet all of the criteria. It’s off on a side road, and the notice on the actual property that it’s for sale seems years old. It’s surrounded by a positively ancient high stone wall that’s also looking much worse for wear.

The estate is called Carfax, probably a corruption of “quatre face”, since the original building seems to have been four-sided facing the cardinal directions. It’s 20 acres, all of it contained in this massive surrounding wall. The interior is essentially forest, and I ran across a small, clear, likely spring-fed pond with a good sized stream that runs away from it. One of the walls of the house itself is very thick and with high, narrow windows with bars over them – probably a late medieval structure that was added onto. We’ll have to have an inspection done to make sure it’s up to code for this kind of thing. It’s near an old chapel or church, and I couldn’t enter, since it wasn’t a formal showing (although I did have permission to inspect the grounds). The house has been added to in what seems like a very intermittent and uneven way, but it seems huge altogether. It’s not a densely populated area – the closest house, a large one that was converted into a private mental hospital, can’t even been seen from the house.”

“I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old family, and to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century. I rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young and gay. I am no longer young; and my heart, through weary years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken; the shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I may.” The smile that he gave as he spoke wasn’t a pleasant smile of contentment. There was something dark and malignant in it. I managed to maintain my professional dignity and not squirm under it.

He left shortly after with an excuse about something or other, and it lifted the pressure in the room. I got the papers in order and went to look at some of the books, taking an atlas off the shelf. It was worn to the point that it opened to England naturally, where a few locations were circled: the east side of London, where Carfax was, Exeter, and Whitby on the Yorkshire coast.

It was a good while before the door opened and the Count swept in again, seeming in a good mood. “Aha!” he said, “still at your books? Good! But you must not work always. Come; I am informed that your supper is ready.” He took me by the arm to guide me into the other room. I’m not sure if anyone but Mina touches my hand and arm this much.

As the night before, he just sat by while I ate, saying that he had dined out while he was away. Dined where? I have to think there must be a village or something nearby that I’m not aware off. Under the circumstances, it wouldn’t be a terrible surprise. We spoke until it felt like it must be getting very early, because the chill that comes over people at around 4 am, no matter how warm it is otherwise, came over me and I shivered a little. I’ve heard that people near death will often die at the changing of the tides or of the sun at the horizon – something about the change in the atmosphere. It must have been even later than that, because just then we heard a cock crow from below, and the Count nearly leapt to his feet.

“Why, there is the morning again! How remiss I am to let you stay up so long. You must make your conversation regarding my dear new country of England less interesting, so that I may not forget how time flies by us.” He left quickly after a bow. The whole thing felt very sudden.

Regardless, I went into my room and closed the curtains. It didn’t seem to make all that much difference, though, so I opened them up again, and decided to write. With that, it’s time to make sure the solar panels are secure and try to figure out the GPS. It’d be nice to have some idea of where I am beyond, “kind of near the Tihuta Pass somewhere.”

(A/N: As far as I know, most dudes these days don’t casually pack mirrors, so… selfie camera time! Also, yes, that was a Pepe Silvia reference, since when I reread the description of the England Library for this, it IMMEDIATELY reminded me of that scene.

Feel free to correct me on the Army, Navy, and Law lists if you know. The lastest date I could find on any of them was 1970, which… uh… honestly seemed fitting for Big D. For similar reasons, I haven’t changed his dialogue at all – he’s in much the same headspace in 2023 as he would have been in 1896.

I can already see at least one point of major plot divergence coming now that I’ve written this chapter, so it probably won’t be a scene-for-scene retelling for the whole time. Info moves fast in the modern world.)

[uptoolateart]

All That Is Necessary (A Gone AU)

Co-written with @raspberrycatapult​

CHAPTER 14 PREVIEW:

As if reading his mind, Luka called over the counter, ‘Hey, how long do you think all that food back there will last?’

Kim was doing something with a large metal bowl and some eggs. Without taking his eyes off it, he answered. ‘Well, there’s loads of stuff back here. Heaps of flour and bread and eggs. The freezer room’s full too. And there’s all these boxes I haven’t opened yet. I need to do a full inventory to work it all out, but it’ll last weeks, for sure. Max is helping me figure out the calculations.’

Max raised his head at his name and gave a little wave before pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. ‘There are several shops and other cafés and restaurants nearby, as well – not to mention the boulangeries, the patisseries, and so forth. Alix has just brought us some of what we need to keep us going for a while. Bottles of water, mostly.’

Alix looked up from a bag of groceries she was setting down. ‘Hell yeah, I did.’

‘The oven and stove work, and the lights,’ Max explained. ‘But the taps don’t have any water.’

‘What happens when the generator goes?’ Luka asked.

Kim smiled. ‘You worry too much, my dude. We’ll get the electricity running again before that becomes a problem.’ He said this with such confidence that it was hard to doubt him.

‘You really think so?’ Marinette asked.

‘Oh yeah. Max here is going to sort it out.’

‘Well, I’m going to try to figure out the solution,’ Max said. ‘It’s a strange problem we have, here. It doesn’t make sense for the water and Wi-Fi to stop working. Even if all the adults have disappeared, the satellites should still work, and the taps should still run until the water from the source runs dry.’ He spoke like he wasn’t used to anything stumping him as much as this.

He didn’t know about the dome.

Adrien felt Marinette’s eyes on him, and he forced himself to become engrossed in a handwritten list of specials scrawled in chalk on one of the walls.

‘This will all be over soon enough, anyway,’ Alix said, ripping open one of the packs of water. ‘The adults outside Paris will realise what’s happened when they can’t get through to anyone on the phone or whatever, and they’ll come investigate and then save us.’

‘What if it isn’t just Paris, though?’ Luka said. ‘What if everyone has disappeared? Everyone in France? In Europe? The whole world? ’

What if the adults never come back? What if we’re truly on our own, now? Forever?

Alix, Kim and Max gaped at him.

Then Alix let out a dry laugh. ‘Nah. This’ll be over in a few days, trust me. Meanwhile, I’m gonna have some fun. No school, yeah! I’m gonna try to skate down the school steps later.’

‘But what about your dad? And Jalil?’ Marinette said.

Something flickered in Alix’s expression. Then she shrugged. ‘I’m sure they’re fine. Probably got teleported to a tropical beach or something. Dad must be freaking out about leaving the Louvre unattended, though.’

Kim returned to the counter, handing them three croque madames on plates. ‘I’ll make sure to give you the rest when you go.’

‘Thanks,’ they all said.

They sat at the table with Juleka and Rose, who scooted over to make room. Both of them looked uneasy. They’d clearly been listening to the conversation.

Luka’s forehead creased with his concerns. Maybe they’d been on his mind all night. In a low voice, he said, ‘I don’t think people are taking this as seriously as they should. We have no idea what’s happened. Or what might happen. I don’t think this is just Paris. I think it’s much bigger than us. Much bigger than all of us.’

Juleka placed a hand on her brother’s arm and mumbled something.

He nodded. ‘Exactly.’ He looked at Marinette, and then Adrien. ‘I think you have the right idea, going to find supplies. It might be sensible to stockpile.’

Stockpile? Adrien hadn’t considered what they were doing to be ‘stockpiling’, but….

‘…like it’s the apocalypse?’ Rose asked, her eyes darting around the room as if to check no one could hear them. The other kids seemed to be lost in their own conversations.

Luka gave her a long look.

Adrien looked down at his plate of food – focused on picking it up and taking a bite. It wasn’t just Max. None of their friends knew about the dome.

We need to tell them.

Keep reading at Ao3

[mymanymerrymuses]

Modern world Hobbit au where none of the characters are made unnecessarily tall (or beardless) for reasons I don't understand but also they're almost all ignorant to modern technology.

Like, Fili and Kili still use phones with the full button keyboards and the small screens, maybe even the ones that slide up to reveal the keyboard.

Thorin has to use a computer at work but if he gets logged out of his email he's screwed.

Ori hates e-readers with a passion ("BOOKS SHOULD JUST BE BOOKS WHY CAN BOOKS PLAY MATCH-3 GAMES THEY CAN'T THEY SHOULDN'T BE ABLE TO!") he does, however, enjoy that the Internet exists for fanfiction purposes.

Dori refuses to get an electric kettle and will boil water in a kettle on the stove and no other way.

Bilbo does not own a mobile phone at all. He has a landline and it's on his kitchen wall.

Only like 3 of the company have any social media. Balin uses Facebook like a middle aged mother.

Nori is absolutely on tumblr though you can't convince me otherwise, but he doesn't know how to use Word or PowerPoint beyond the basics.

Bofur watches silly videos online, but he refers to every video as 'A YouTube'

I just like the idea of them keeping their actual canon ages instead of being changed to match human ages so even though Kili for example would be like, the equivalent of being in his 20s, he's 77, you know, he didn't grow up with smartphones, he's still learning even though he's young.

[the-firebird69]

We have to tell you they're not getting the idea.

You saw blade is a ripping saw that's what you said it's because cutting that direction doesn't take that much energy and it is kind of beefy so it doesn't bolts are afraid to upend or and it can heat up and stay straight. This is a good symbol for the vehicle I would like it and we can come up with new ideas and the car the truck or car really be like A like the one he showed that can SUV kind of it would look more like a Troy build vehicle and it looks dirty and Stout hey people buy it 'cause they want that kind of truck and we'll research how big things are like a regular full size stove inside the box and things like that. We're going to go ahead and present this idea it is intense and it is awesome. There are several companies we have in mind that we have an idea that these would sell like madness people are asking how big is it it would be the size of a small SUV but the shape would have a lot more space inside like a Volkswagen Golf has space And we want to make it so you can order it as utility vehicle or an SUV and we'll have one size on 1 vehicle. we wil have attachements and each an electric motor no need for a pto which are dangeorus hard to use.

he adds a winch windless and it means electric and enough to drag it we do it..and a bumber system if one wnts not needed but cooler and good.

i added the bumper Hera says

we add a cooler, spot too and plugs in to theoutlet right on the inside near it

we add a fishng rck system for the rear and or top you can move it but fits boht

we add a normal rack no hd and nice

we add a luggage hold for atop the roof on the rack or smaller self racking

we add tinted windows

we add two tone and mag wheels

we add lrger wheels as an optoin

we add towing packages and two i think yes

we add thetow bar and optoins all troy bilt style

we add a snow plow like i had on my small utility veh. and they are cute but work so add allwheel or four wheel drive

we shall. too. but we add a larger motor and aspriated from the to for coolness

we add a bbq system for out back

we add an offroad package wiht offroad jeck tow package front rear winch light rack racks push grille and bar etc

we add a smooth transiton to this projectyes

good we work

Thor Freya

Olympus

[mightbelola]

Fake News, It’s True

I can’t write anything so I’ll just tell you what’s happening. I’m standing in the kitchen. Kitchen and TV are in the same room. Our living room is smaller than the size of the classrooms back at school, remember the English room? Yeah, smaller than that. I like it, easy to clean. I’m also writing on my iPad. Joe gave me this very loud keyboard for me to type my boring stories with. My iPad is between the rice cooker and the stove. We’ve got this electric stove, it sucks but it works. I can make eggs with it, the simplest healthiest thing, so it’s fine. It’s not like I know how to cook anyway.

I think it’s about to rain. “I hate it here so I will go to secret garden in my mind,” Taylor Swift said that in her song, it’s playing on the TV. A lot of what she says makes a lot of sense to me, a lot of time. She’s telling different stories, but they always feel the same way. It’s not exactly about what had happened to us that’s relatable. It’s about how we feel.

I feel okay lately. I decided I want to live. It’s not a perfect world down here, but it’s not so bad either.

Has it been two weeks since? I feel a lot normal now, like was I even pregnant? Did I imagine it? Was it only like a dream? Then again, I look around and I see crucial evidence that I didn’t imagine the whole thing. Like, this dress I’m wearing right now, the one I wore when I was at the stadium that day. It was hot and I was pregnant. The people witnessed it. The shortest pregnancy reveal in history ever, it’s like, “Hey guys we’re having a baby!” “Congratulations!” Then, a week later, “Fake news.”

It’s like, what’s that for, you know?

Instead of a baby, we were having twins. Instead of fake news, it’s true. There are no twins.

It’s raining now, and I am so sleepy. I’m still full. I had that egg sandwich I made. Although that was probably four hours ago. I need to lie down. My head is spinning.

Ah, the ceiling. I’m on the couch now, writing on my phone. My head feels funny. I think I worked too hard on the camera. I can’t find the right setting. I need the right setting for the photos to look aesthetically pleasing in my eyes. I’m almost there but yeah, I think I need a little break.

I enjoy this little house. This house is a lot smaller than any other house we lived in. It reminds me of his place back in Mutiara, because of how small it is. It’s also quite pleasing to know that it doesn’t matter whichever room you’re in every night, you can always just lie down, stare at the ceiling and let your mind brings you places.

My mind brings me back to Medalla. I miss my old room there. There’s this tall mirror I had, and it brought out someone new in me. My teenage self wouldn’t believe me if I told her, “You’re a strong confident woman. You’re also pretty. Your teeth are still messed up, but you like it, you’ve always secretly liked it. Your skin will clear up, and you will love those scars on your face that you’re worried about.” That mirror had witnessed so many things, like when I had that nervous breakdown because Joe hadn’t called me back. I needed to know if he had landed in Bali. It felt so long since his flight, so I got a little worried. That same night, I played dress up. My teenage self would love to hear all this. She could only imagine having a room all to herself, put on some cute jeans, shirts, shoes, dresses, nice music. She wouldn’t believe she’d get to have all the things she loved, a cute house, a handsome husband, books and cats. She wouldn’t believe if I told her, she’s there, alone all by herself with a real husband in mind, exactly how she imagined it. She’d read books all day and dance all night.

That was a moment of pure bliss. Not knowing, not having any idea of what’s coming for me in the future. Now I’m here. I look at myself in the mirror every morning before I shower, I’m still me but I am a different person. I will never be the same. I wonder what my teenage self would think if I told her, “Hey, life update. You lost the job you loved, you moved to another country with the man you love, you got pregnant soon after that, you were having twins, but you got really homesick so you left the man you love, went back to your family, that was a stupid idea by the way, had a preterm labor, gave birth, can’t keep the babies, sorry, and here we are, back to like when it’s just us, back in Medalla.”

[mysticalrambling]

Kitchen Disasters (H.S)

The following fan fiction is based on this idea. I hope you like it because I definitely had fun writing this.

My Main Masterlist is here.

Harry Styles Masterlist is here.

Summary: Harry’s attempt at making Mother’s Day lunch.

Warnings: mentions of food and swearing.

._._._._.

What is he thinking? He can’t cook to save his life. Sure, he knew how to bake when he was a mere sixteen year old but now he simply can’t. Admittedly, you are the cook in this relationship.

‘Come on, man, you’ve got this. Get it together.’

With the mantra repeating in his mind, he gets to work. Thank god, you weren’t awake to see the disaster that was about to ensue. You would’ve had his head served on the platter instead of the steak.

Harry wasn’t here for mother’s day because he had to fly out to Italy for some dress rehearsals with Allesandro and Harry Lambert for his upcoming public appearances. You wanted to go with him but having a six month old toddler and a four your old pre schooler wasn’t exactly an ideal traveling situation. Handing Harry the children the moment he came back, you trotted off to your bedroom for some much needed sleep. If you knew having two kids would’ve been this stressful, you wouldn’t have allowed Harry within a six mile radius of you. Oh, who were you kidding, its Harry Styles. No one can resist that narcissist’s charm.

“Where’s the bloody pan? Y’shouldn’t have bought a damn mansion. Who needs one anyway?” Clattering of the silver is possibly echoing throughout the kitchen but he cannot bring himself to care. Harry’s main concern is finding the right utensils for his venture. You were going to get a steak, no matter what. You deserved a nice lunch for taking care of your children alone when it was both of yours’ responsibility.

The cabinets are thoughtfully organized because let’s admit it, you are a bit of a control freak. Rummaging through them really makes a mess but he is nothing if not a man on a mission. Once he finds the right cabinet, he jumps, forgetting he is six feet tall in all the excitement.

‘Ow! (Y/N) always told y’to close the cabinets. Y’should listen to her but please god, don’t let her notice this bruise. She’ll be t’smug.’

Taking out the frosted meat from the freezer, he dumps it right into the frying pan. The meat is already defrosting a little bit so he figures it shouldn’t be a problem.

‘Hmm, should I use the sauce pan instead, don’t want the oil t’spill.’

The transfer proves a little difficult when the steaks keep slipping out of the tongs and onto the marble tops.

‘These bloody steaks need a spankin’, I swear.’

The olive oil is thankfully right besides the stove so he didn’t have to go on another wild hunt. After spraying a generous amount into the sauce pan, he has one more task to achieve: turning the stove on.

Tick, tick

Tick, tick

Tick, tick

“Daddy, y’need to use the gun.”

“Huh, wha’?” There at the entryway, stands your mini replica with a slight frown on her face. The folded arms, the foot tapping, and the glare hauntingly reminds Harry of his wife. Maybe it would’ve been better if you had busted him. Atlas was a stickler for rules and cleanliness even at the mere age of four which is not exactly an ideal thing for the beloved rockstar. You aren’t the only woman that bosses him around the house. From the moment Atlas learnt to walk, she was already organizing her stuffed animals and having proper tea parties with her parents. She wasn’t the one to mess around with and now, right in this moment, she is definitely pissed off at the sight of the messy kitchen with the open cabinets and the cutlery haphazardly thrown on the floor.

“Y’gotta light it up, daddy.”

“But it’s electrical, pet.”

“Mummy lights it up w’this.” Handing him a gas lighter, she stares him right in the eyes with an annoyed glare.

“Th- Thank y’darling. Guess it’s not electrical, then.” He knew he wasn’t helping his case but he was breaking under her intense gaze. In the trials of parenthood, he has found nothing to be scarier than the glare of his four year old .

“Daddy, Arty threw her binky at me and woke m’up.”

Sighing, he turns the stove on and starts taking milk out of the refrigerator. He just knows that Artemis is going to be in one of her moods and that the nap hasn’t worked. Now, he has two cranky babies instead of one. Just great.

“Y’want a pouch, baby?”

The chubby finger came onto her chin because this was such a big decision. Well, it was a big decision for a four year old. “Applesauce, please.”

“Thank yeh for using your manners, darling.”

Atlas moves towards the living room with the pouch tucked between her puffy lips. Walking towards Atlas’s room, he was glad that he had put pillows around the bed for both of them because Artemis was rolling towards the corner. She has been mobile from the past one month and it has been one hell of an experience. Every single day, she tries to find new ways to escape her crib and injure herself in the process.

“Come on, li’l monkey. I bet you’re hungry.”

“Dadda! Dadda!” The feeling that comes with this one word has never gotten old and for this, Harry has only one person to thank: you.

“Yeah, ‘m your daddy. Come on, let’s get y’fed up.” Softly gazing at her as she peacefully sucks on her bottle, Harry thinks back to the first time he met you. A journalist running into him during the Grammy Awards. Harry has never been glad that his thousand dollar suit was ruined because he met you through that incident. You are still as feisty and ferocious as you were back then. Really keeping the relationship alive.

Seeing his little creation flapping her feet around and fervently sucking on the bottle, he starts his one sided conversation.

“It’s just tha’ yummy, li’l monkey.”

“I understand, I’ve tasted it as well.”

“Your mummy’s amazin’, isn’t she?”

“Love m’three girls so much.”

Time flies by when he is with her because she is a perfect mixture of both you and him. This little girl came into the world very early and there was a heavy chance that she might not have survived. However, she fought her way through this world and here she is, safe in his arms. To imagine a life without one of his girls is more painful than a knife stabbing at his heart.

“Daddy, somethin’ is burning.”

“What are y’talking about?”

“The smell, daddy.” Sometimes it really felt like she was the parent in this dynamic.

“Oh shit!”

“No cursing, daddy!” Correction: she is the parent in this relationship.

“Sorry, pet. Let’s go downstairs and see if mama’s lunch is alrigh’.”

Harry should be thankful that Atlas is listening to him today because she does not move from her seat while he tends to the charred meat. Artemis keeps looking at her father with curious eyes as he runs around the kitchen to find a cloth. He doesn’t want the fire alarm to go off and wake you up.

“Daddy, whatcha lookin’ for?”

“A cloth, baby.”

“Why?”

“For t’alarm.”

“Y’can open the window.” Halting in his steps, he does not acknowledge her statement and just goes to open the window above the sink. No need to give her the satisfaction.

’This meat can be salvaged. She’d just ‘ave to chew a li’l bit more.’

Next come the mashed potatoes because no one likes to serve steak without them. The only problem is that he didn’t know where the potato peeler is so he has to use the knife. Towards the end, there are not many potatoes left to boil. But they have to do because he is running out of time. Soon, the potatoes are boiled and Harry gets to working on them.

‘The potatoes shouldn’t be stained. Did (Y/N) use water in the mashed potatoes? I think she did. They’ll be t’dry without it.’

A whole stick of butter is thrown into the pot along with five tea spoons of salt. The pepper, on the other hand, is a totally different case. The container does not budge and he knows his trainer would have his ass if he could see the struggle right now.

The cap twists unexpectedly and the powder directly flies into his eyes. “My eyes! Oh, m’eyes!”

Running to the sink, he tries to open the faucet but he can’t open his eyes to see a damn thing. After several tries, the water starts coming but it doesn’t really help matters.

“Daddy, I don’t think y’should cook.”

“Thanks, pet.” He knows that a four year old doesn’t understand sarcasm but he can’t help himself.

When it doesn’t seem like his eyes will melt, he goes towards the stove and slowly starts working on the mashed potatoes. Safe to say, he is afraid of another disaster.

Hot potato, hot potato

Hot potato, hot potato

Hot potato, hot potato

Potato, potato, potato

“That’s our song, daddy!”

“Oh, that’s where I heard it.”

“Daddy, dance?” A small tradition between the duo is to dance on the Wiggles’ song. It has been there since she took her first steps and Harry silently hopes that it will never go away.

“Always, baby.”

Cold spaghetti, cold spaghetti

Cold spaghetti, cold spaghetti

Cold spaghetti, cold spaghetti

spaghetti, spaghetti, spaghetti

Spinning around the kitchen, he can’t help but look at his daughter with utter love and devotion. She is his second love after you and she made him a father. The feeling of holding a bundled up baby for the first time was an experience he still cannot put into words.

Whooo, wiggy wiggy wiggy

Whooo, wiggy wiggy wiggy

“Arty, y’can do this with dadda until y’start walking. You better do, pet.”

“I don’t think she cares, daddy.” Again, she is right. Artemis appears to be more interested in fitting her whole fist in her mouth rather than looking at them.

When he is finally done with cooking, he doesn’t want to focus on the fact that the mashed potatoes are still looking a little slimy. He will just call them his special dish. Everyone has their own unique dish. Taking the tray in his hand, he walks upstairs with Atlas hot on his tail.

I'm on the roof

You're in your airplane seat

I was nose bleeding

Looking for life, out there

Reading your horoscope

You were just doing cocaine

In my kitchen, you never listen

I hope you're missing me by now

He has been singing his songs for a very long time in the house so Artemis isn’t even phased by it. The moment he opens the door, he sees you leaning on the headboard with your phone in your hand.

“I was about to come down-“ You were cut off by your husband’s singing and you weren’t going to complain. A free Harry Styles concert? Who would say no to that?

If I was a bluebird

I would fly to you

You'd be the spoon

Dip you in honey

So I could be sticking to you

The small shimmy that he does from your door to the bed tempts you to make a video of him. He looked so good in his simple grey joggers with tattoos on display and slightly tousled hair. An epitome of beauty, if someone asks you.

“Hi, baby. What’s all this?”

“Just to show a li’l appreciation for my baby mama.”

“H, what is this?” Looking at the tray, you can’t help but wonder if the food is actually edible.

“This is food tha’ I prepared with m’sweat and blood.”

“Thank you, baby but this doesn’t exactly look edible.”

“Y’have to try it.”

When Atlas comes sits beside you, you realise that your other daughter isn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Harry, where’s Arty?”

A realisation dawns upon him and he exclaims sheepishly, “Oh, that’s wha’ I was forgetting. Be back in a jiff.”

“Till then I’m going to try this out.” A sense of dread fills your stomach as soon as you cut into the steak. It didn’t look well done but you thought that it’ll be okay as you liked it medium-rare anyways.

“This is definitely raw.” Spitting the meat out in to the napkin, you tried to wash the taste down with water.

“Here’s the bub.” Artemis didn’t look up as she was too invested in biting onto his shoulder with the single new tooth that had made its appearance known a few days back. Excitement seeping through his voice, he asked “How’s t’steak?”

“Are you trying to give me salmonella?”

“Darlin’, isn’t that a fish?”

“Harry, it’s a disease.”

“Oh.”

“Please never help our kids with homework.”

Dramatically, he places his hand on his chest in mock offence. Although, he isn’t ashamed to admit that you are the smart one out of you two.

“Try out t’mashed potatoes. They are m’own recipe.”

Looking at him with a silent wonderment, you voiced out your question, “Isn’t there just one recipe for mashed potatoes?”

“Oh hush.” Taking the spoon from your hand, he feeds you a mouthful.

“Harry, it’s too salty!”

“But-“

Cutting him off, she put the tray aside, she pulls him closer, “Don’t fret about the food. Thank you so much for doing this, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s go out today and m’mum can take the bubs today.”

“Then maybe when we come home, you can show me your real appreciation.”

“Y’got yourself a deal.”

._._._._.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

A/N: So I have been working on this for a couple of days and @peculiarpenman and @pettinesspersonified have been helping me with it. A big thank you to both of them because they are the ones who do most of the work. I have been currently obsessed with Harry’s album so I added one of my favorite songs into this piece. Hope you guys love it!! Do let me know. Love y’all!!

Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._.

[noellawrites]

We Are Family - Yandere!Johnny Lawrence x reader + Robby Keene

here are part 1 and part 2 of this series

summary: Robby has suspicions about what his dad did and decides to come to yours and Johnny’s apartment to confront you

note: this takes place after the s3 finale, and Robby and Johnny are not at odds like how they currently are in the show

warning: discussion of dub/noncon

Your eyes fluttered open as the noise of Johnny rustling around in the living room hit your ears. Miraculously, Johnny Junior was still asleep in his crib, so you climbed out of bed to see what was going on.

“Sorry babe, I couldn’t find my tool belt this morning. Turns out it was under the sink,” Johnny apologized. He flipped some bacon on the stove and slid a plate of eggs towards you.

“Do you really have to leave so soon?” you pleaded, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Since Eagle Fang is on thin ice, I can’t rely on the kids’ karate dues anymore. If I pick up some part time handyman work it’ll help us pay rent,” Johnny explained, to which you nodded.

“Junior is gonna miss his daddy,” you frowned as Johnny pulled you into his chest comfortingly. He kissed the top of your head as you nuzzled into his chest. He smelled like peppermint, sweat and baby ointment.

“Don’t forget, dinner at six with Robby. I should be done by then, I just have to fix some plumbing and do some electrical work in San Fernando. Are you still planning on cooking?” He asked, grabbing a paper plate from your cabinets and tossing his bacon and eggs on it to go.

“Yeah, I’m making chicken parmesan from scratch and—“ Johnny Junior’s screams rang out through the apartment as he woke up, “—there goes your son. Anyway, I’m making some mac and cheese too, since you said it’s Robby’s favorite.”

“God, you’re amazing. You’re like, super-mom or somethin’. I knew you’d get the hang of this. I love you, babe. See ya later,” Johnny said, grabbing his tool box and rushing out the door.

You grabbed a piece of bacon that Johnny had left for you and went back into your bedroom to grab Junior from his crib.

“It’s okay, shh, shh, mommy’s here,” you whispered, gently rocking him back and forth as his screams continued.

After Junior calmed down and you had time to think, you went through the kitchen and made sure you had everything you needed to make dinner tonight. For the first time since Robby came to visit Junior in the hospital, all four of you would be together again. Your beautiful, dysfunctional little family.

It was a bit odd considering you were closer to Johnny’s son’s age than Johnny himself, but you loved Robby because you got along so well with him. You understood the same pop culture references and exchanged stories about school (him) and what you’d been up to. You hoped to help Johnny and Robby heal their broken bond and move forward as father and son, and you were glad they were both making a solid effort.

-

A few hours later, you heard a knock at the door. You figured it was probably Carmen or Miguel, so you rushed over to answer it.

“Oh, I— Robby? You’re a little early, dinner isn’t ‘til—“

“Is my dad home?”

“Well… no, but I—“

“Can I come in?”

“Of course,” you nodded, opening up the door for him completely.

Robby entered and glanced around to make sure Johnny wasn’t home as you shut the door behind him.

“Would you like to sit down? How about a drink? We have water, lemonade—“ you offered, walking over to the kitchen as Robby walked into your bedroom where Junior was still laying. You watched as Robby looked down at his half-brother with tears in his eyes.

“You can hold him if you want,” you offered, and Robby picked up Johnny Junior exactly as you’d shown him in the hospital.

“We need to talk about you and my dad,” he said, sitting down on the couch with Junior in his arms.

“Of course, Robby. What’s on your mind?” you asked, masking the nervousness in your voice. What if he knew?

“Miguel approached me about a week ago. He wasn’t thrilled at the idea of talking to me, but he’s really worried. He told me how you were acting weird and had been through your pregnancy, asking me if I noticed it too. He said Johnny seemed to love you a lot more than you loved him. How your pregnancy came out of nowhere; apparently you were just his neighbor that occasionally helped with paperwork at his dojo. Miguel said that Johnny was more intense about training around the time you got pregnant. Saying weird things to him and the other students like, “when there’s something you want, you gotta take it at any cost, even if you’re met with resistance at first.” Miguel said you would yell at Johnny about not wanting the baby. Tell me the truth, (y/n). Did my dad force you to do something with him?” Robby asked, meeting your eyes with a sympathetic look.

You couldn’t tell him. A part of you longed to be able to tell someone the truth, for someone to know you weren’t crazy. The other part of you knew you couldn’t mess up your family, the life of your son. You had grown to love Johnny and now you couldn’t live without him, you were even engaged on your own free will.

“Robby, I know it might look weird to you but love is a process. Some days, I love your dad more than others. But love means sticking by someone no matter what,” you answered.

Junior had begun to cry again, so Robby passed him to your open arms. You cooed to your son and rocked him gently to calm him down.

“(Y/n), c’mon, don’t be like that. We’re friends, remember? I just want to figure this out. I-I mean my dad is twenty seven years older than you. He could be your dad.”

“Robby, your dad’s age doesn’t matter to me,” you answered without meeting his eyes, still gently rocking Junior in your arms.

“If you don’t tell me the truth, I’m going to call the police and tell them everything I know,” Robby said, voice getting louder and louder.

“There’s nothing to tell, Robby! We’re in a consenting relationship now,” you cried. Junior was back to crying again.

“Now? You’re in a consenting relationship now?”

“Robby, you can’t report him. Please. They’ll send him to jail and I’ll have to raise Junior on my own. I don’t have a job or any friends here that can help me. Please, Robby. I’m just trying to keep my family together,” now you were really crying, tears rolling down your face and onto your son in your arms.

Robby looked down at his feet in contemplation, tears threatening to escape his eyes.

“I won’t report him or ask him about it as long as you tell me the truth. I want you to get counseling or something because if you really do want to stay with my dad, it’s probably because of Stockholm Syndrome and not just love. I don’t want my brother to grow up without a dad like I did, and I really think my dad wants to stick around for Junior.”

After Robby finished explaining the ultimatum, you were relieved. You, your fiancée and your baby were safe, for now.

“Alright. The truth is that Johnny was a little forceful with me the first time we, uh, had sex. I just wasn’t used to that. I got pregnant that day, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep it, but we talked about it and decided to give it a shot. There were moments where I regretted my decision, but my pregnancy was difficult on me. I didn’t have a mom, sister or best friend to tell me what was normal or wasn’t. I felt stupid asking your dad for help, since he hadn’t really been around for you. I’m really sorry if it came off as anything else,” you admitted, lying through your teeth.

Some things were true, of course. You wished you had some friends your own age. But you couldn’t tell Robby the complete truth without him hating his dad.

“Oh… I’m sorry for speculating then. I just thought maybe you were unhappy and I… guess I just doubted your relationship. You’re a great mother to Junior and I’m really thankful to have you as a friend. You can always call me if you need help with anything and Johnny isn’t around. I-I’m sorry I bothered you,” he apologized, itching his head awkwardly.

“Oh, no worries! I love having you here. Johnny will be home from work in a few hours, would you like to stay until then?” you asked.

“Really? Uh, yeah, sure.”

[oumaheroes]

Swinging a bit off of Arthur being a grandfather. He has his giant manor in the country where he raised a chunk of his children but the house was never really... meant for children to be their age there. Everything was don't touch or it might fall over and kill you. Though in the modern era it still suffers a lot from this problem, he's acquired a few things more suitable for a younger age. The Billard's Room that popped up in the Victorian era is still largely that but has some additions. There're two train sets. One is modeled after an area in the country Arthur enjoys traveling to and the model trains are based on some of his favorite models that England has developed in its history. No touch. Then there's the paytable of Big Jigs and Thomas the kids can have at. Two dollhouses, one is the most elegant thing you've ever seen. Working stove, electricity, the works. No touch. That's for the faeries and Little People. There's a second one still beautiful just nowhere near as ornate or functions as an actual living space. He spoiled his sons and daughter more or less centuries ago and now he spoils his grandchildren in his own right.

Omg a big yes to Arthur's home being full of shit that's ridiculously expensive, if only for the age or rarity, and that are very much considered 'do not touch under threat of death' items, (there's a sole survivor of a pair of Georgian glassware ornaments that Canada watches with ever increasing panic as the years go on). And I love the idea of him having a really beautiful dollhouse somewhere!

But overall though, I don't think Arthur's too bad with his belongings. He likes things that are practical and have a use so, as long as they still function, he doesn't care how expensive humans consider it to be. Old fragile sofas, ancient Old English tomes and delicate China tea sets- if Arthur finds it stable and working he'll still use it and won't mind other people doing so either, unless they've been proven to be clumsy (Australia cannot touch the fancy China tea sets)

When they were younger, the children had their own nursery wing all to themselves (now the guest wing) and here they could be as rambunctious as they wanted to be with their own furniture and items. As they grew old enough to wander the rest of the house unsupervised though, the same rules were applied that still apply now- I trust you once. Keep my trust or lose it, the decision is yours.

Sealand and Wy have this rule applied too. They can use and touch mostly what they want (the things England does care about, usually strictly sentimental more than valuable, are hidden away) but if they fuck about and break something that's it, they're back to being treated like a child in the nursery with wooden bowls and spoons.