#Attic Room or Cellar Door

[vaguekiwi]

Attic Room or Cellar Door

Read on Ao3

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

A horrific fire destroys Peter's home, and he finds himself alone to sort through the remains. But then Tony — his ex-husband — shows up to help. Tony is left to assuage his irate ex, Peter is left to wonder at Tony's motives, and both of them must grapple with the circumstances of their breakup — admitting to truths they'd rather forget.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

It needs rehabilitation, but I'm in love with this old book shop and it's cute apt. in Haarlem city center, the Netherlands. It's the dream of owning a bookstore and living above it on a beautiful street. Built in 1807, it's been a book shop since 1876. 4bds, 298 m² / 3207.65 sq ft, €1.3m / $1.412 approx. USD. The caveat is that it could have asbestos and of course, it's not going to be up to code, so it's sold "as is." The current owner does not live here.

Isn't this a classic old book shop? Books everywhere, beautiful stairs. Antique cabinets and shelving.

I wonder why they want so much for it, if it needs so much work, though. I don't know what the property would be worth once it was renovated and brought up to code.

Look at the little stepladder. I wonder if the furniture stays.

Here's the back room.

So much stuff. Look at the leaded glass window and the old photos on the walls.

Look at the patina from the wear on the stairs. There's some work that needs to be done here. It looks like the electrical stuff.

Just look at this cellar. Can you imagine putting a little bar or coffee shop down here? That wall is made of green bottles.

Some wine shelving. Look at all the jars.

Back to the main floor, this store room leads to the yard.

All of this has to be cleared out and landscaped.

This could be super cozy. Love the fireplace, but the walls are damaged.

Looks like the roof is leaking. But, it's so cozy. What a great apt. it would be if it was restored.

This will need some work.

It has a kitchen and I would at least save the built-in cabinet. Otherwise, it's just about a total gut.

Then, there's another storeroom here and back stairs to a 3rd level.

What an interesting place. It just goes on and on.

There's still more.

This could be an amazing property.

Small bedroom up here.

Can you imagine this attic room as an art studio or an apt.?

Door to what would make a cute little rooftop deck. Looks like they've been replacing the tiles.

You can see by the shape of the roof, the interesting rooms that we were in.

The street that it's on is like a picture. The plot that the building is on is 120 m² / 1291.67 sq ft.

Haarlem city center.

https://www.funda.nl/detail/koop/haarlem/huis-warmoesstraat-10/89260855/

[highprettybabyy]

Seeing Red

Part 6 - Please Don't Die

jenna ortega x fem!reader apocalypse au

summary: they go house hunting and things go sideways.

warnings: enemies to lovers, typical apocalypse stuff, violence, blood, zombies, gore, maybe angst... some fluff...

AN: a bit more angst because why not

word count: 2.8k

Part 5

—//—

The street was quieter than expected.

That was your first clue something might be off. No dragging footsteps. No guttural moans carried by the wind. Just the low rustle of breeze through trees and the faint creak of an old street sign swaying lazily above the cracked pavement.

You and Jenna slowed your bikes at the edge of the block, shoes hitting asphalt almost in sync. She scanned the rooftops while you pulled the crumpled flyer from your jacket pocket and looked up at the actual house - or what was left of it.

“This the one?” Jenna asked, coming up beside you.

“Yeah,” you said slowly, holding out the page for her to see. “It’s a match.”

Or, it had been.

The front porch had collapsed inward, boards snapped like ribs. One of the support beams was cracked in half, crushed beneath the weight of a massive tree that had fallen straight through the second floor. Glass crunched underfoot as you moved closer, boots skimming along the edge of a splintered welcome mat now buried beneath debris.

You gave a low whistle. “Damn.”

“Yeah.” Jenna frowned. “Looks like a hurricane came through here.”

She crouched near the foundation, lifting a cracked plank with her knife and peering into the ruined understructure. “This place is a coffin waiting to happen.”

You exhaled slowly. “Was really hoping this one would hold up.”

“Me too.” Her voice was neutral, but you caught the flicker of disappointment behind it. She’d been hopeful too - just quieter about it.

Still, neither of you wasted time mourning it. You were already moving - circling the house, checking sightlines, exits, rooftops, scanning for movement. It felt easy. Natural. Like you’d always done this together.

You split off briefly to check the detached garage. Jenna scouted the overgrown backyard, her boots making almost no sound in the grass. She moved with purpose - sharp eyes, quiet hands. You heard the soft click of her rifle safety disengaging for half a second, then a whisper of breath as she flicked it back on.

“No good,” you said when you met back at the front. “Too many structural weak points.”

She nodded. “And there’s a crawlspace behind the fence. Not safe.”

You both paused for a beat, standing there in the soft hum of the late morning, the wind tugging lightly at your clothes.

Then Jenna reached for the flyer in your hand.

“Cons: compromised roof, unstable foundation, one tree through the guest bedroom.” She flipped the flyer over and scribbled it down with a stub of pencil.

You snorted. “Pros?”

Jenna raised an eyebrow. “Nice hydrangeas out front.”

You chuckled, then nudged her shoulder. “On to the next?”

She tucked the flyer away. “Lead the way.”

-

The next house was three blocks down - a squat, single-storey thing with boarded windows and a cracked chimney. You climbed the fence while Jenna boosted herself up with the help of a low brick wall. The gate squeaked but didn’t break.

Inside, it smelled like damp wood and dust.

You moved through it fast - room by room, tight corners, open hallways - Jenna taking point while you swept behind. Neither of you had to speak. You knew the routine. Doors first, then windows. Look for water lines, cracks in the walls, attic space, floor rot, cellar access. Rinse and repeat.

“This one’s clear,” she said eventually, voice low.

“Not bad,” you replied, glancing up at a patch of black mould blooming across the kitchen ceiling. “Still smells like a swamp threw up in here.”

Jenna looked at you, nose wrinkled. “It’s the carpet.”

You kicked it gently with your boot. “What’s left of it.”

She cracked a grin. “We��ll put it down as a maybe.”

You ended up checking four more houses that afternoon.

Some were too cramped. Some had broken locks. One had a basement you both noped out of the second you heard that echo - not quite a growl, not quite a moan, but close enough.

You stopped writing cons by the third one. Started using symbols instead. “ 🐳 = flooded.” “⚠ = damaged.” “ 😵 = smells like death.”

Jenna drew that one.

By the fifth house, you weren’t even trying to be quiet anymore. Not unless you had to. It was strange - moving through the ruins of civilisation with someone again. Someone who didn’t need everything explained. Someone who moved with you.

You climbed through a broken front window while Jenna secured the back door. By the time she reappeared in the living room, you were kneeling over a gutted fireplace, scanning for loose wiring.

She leaned in the doorway and crossed her arms. “You always take the electrical stuff so seriously?”

You looked up at her. “I’m not giving up my coffee machine when we find a house.”

Jenna smirked. “Apocalypse priorities.”

“Say that again when I brew you a cup.”

She held your gaze a little longer than necessary - not teasing now, just curious. You caught her eyes flick to your mouth, then back up. A breath passed between you. Quiet. Steady.

You stood and dusted off your hands. “Not it,” you said, nodding toward the sagging roof.

“Definitely not it,” she agreed.

Back on the bikes, the air cooled slightly as clouds drifted across the sun. The wind picked up. You adjusted your pack, feeling the familiar weight against your spine, and glanced sideways.

“So,” you started. “What do you think? How long do these things last?”

Jenna turned toward you, a brow raised. “Zombies?”

You nodded. “Assuming no head trauma. How long before they just… fall apart?”

She thought for a moment. “Six months. Tops. The fresh ones are strong, but that’s adrenaline. After that, muscle decay’s going to hit hard. No food. No oxygen. No brain.”

You hummed. “I say three.”

“Three?” She scoffed. “You’re optimistic.”

“They’re already rotting. The moment they turn. It’s just delayed. Something in the virus slows it down.”

“And when’s the last time you saw one that far along?”

“Exactly,” you said, smirking. “We haven’t. Yet.”

Jenna narrowed her eyes playfully. “You think you’re gonna win a Nobel for zombie decomposition theory?”

You grinned. “I’m just saying - if we make it to Christmas, they won’t.”

She chuckled. “Bold of you to assume we’ll be around to find out.”

You paused, looked at her sideways. “Well, I plan to be.”

That quiet settled again.

Not heavy this time. Just full.

And when she smiled at you, soft and crooked, you smiled back.

Together, you turned down the next street.

-

The sun had started to sink behind the rooftops, spilling honey-gold light across the street as you pedalled slowly ahead. The silence was changing - less of a threat, more of a hush. A settling.

Jenna pulled up beside you at the end of the cul-de-sac, scanning the last house on the map. She didn’t even get off her bike.

You did.

You stood beside the rusted gate, hands braced on the handlebars, squinting at the peeling paint and crooked shutters. “Well?”

Jenna didn’t respond right away. She was still looking around, but you could tell by her posture - half-tired, half-bored - that this one was another no.

You sighed. “Alright. No more for today.”

She gave a little nod, but said nothing.

You paused. Watched the way her jaw shifted. She was trying not to show it, but the exhaustion was there - in the tightness around her eyes, the slump in her shoulders. She hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of dried fruit since midday. And neither of you had slept properly in days.

You cleared your throat and adjusted the strap on your shoulder.

“My place isn’t far,” you said casually. “We could crash there tonight.”

Jenna turned her head toward you.

You shrugged. “It’s secure. Reinforced. Two-storey. I’ve got rainwater collectors and a half-decent mattress.”

She hesitated, something unreadable flickering across her face. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” You raised a brow. “You gonna sleep in a tree again?”

She shot you a look - but it was mostly smirk.

Then you tilted your head. “I’ll cook.”

That made her blink.

“I’ve got canned potatoes. Lentils. Spices. Some ham. I can do a warm meal. Might even toast the bread if we’re lucky.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You have heat?”

You tapped your temple. “Solar panel battery backups. And I rationed my last camp stove cartridge for emergencies.”

Jenna folded her arms. “And this qualifies as an emergency?”

You grinned. “You look like someone who hasn’t eaten a hot meal since the world fell apart.”

She didn’t deny it.

You leaned closer, voice dipping just a little. “Come on. Warm food. No tree roots stabbing you in the back. Real pillows. I’ll even let you have the couch.”

She stared at you a moment longer. Then: “I’m not cleaning up after.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Another beat.

Then Jenna swung her leg back over the bike and adjusted her gloves. “Alright.”

You laughed, pedalling ahead. “Try not to starve on the way.”

-

You were less than five minutes from home when it happened.

The neighbourhood was familiar - rows of overgrown lawns, shattered windows, the wind knocking an old windchime somewhere out of sight. You were already starting to relax. The streetlights were crooked, long dead, but the amber glow of the setting sun was enough to guide you. You could almost smell the spices you’d stashed in your pantry. You were already thinking about the lentils. The warm meal you’d promised her.

You were thinking about the smile she’d given you, rare and quiet, like she didn’t know she’d done it.

And then you heard it.

A shuffle. A grunt.

Too close.

Too fast.

You didn’t have time to shout.

It was on you before you could even draw your machete - tall, still heavy with muscle, a face not yet rotted, jaw twitching with feral hunger. One of the fast ones. One of the fresh ones. It lunged with no hesitation.

The impact sent you crashing backwards, your bike clattering against the pavement. Pain shot through your leg - something tore, something snapped - and then the edge of the curb slammed into your back, knocking the breath clean out of your chest.

“Y/N!”

You heard her shout before you could even register where she was. Your vision blurred as the weight pressed down on your abdomen, hot breath on your throat, teeth snapping inches from your face.

You screamed.

Your hand found your blade.

Instinct took over.

You shoved upward with all the strength left in your arms, the machete piercing through the side of its neck - not clean, not deep enough to kill, but enough to send it reeling.

Then Jenna was there. She moved like a strike of lightning - her rifle swinging down too close to your ear, the butt slamming into the zombie’s skull with a sickening crack. You heard the sound of bone giving way. The creature dropped, twitching once before going still.

Everything was silent again.

Except for your breathing - ragged. Sharp. Wet.

And the pain.

Oh God, the pain.

You curled sideways, arms wrapping tight around your midsection, but the burning in your abdomen was already spreading. You touched your side, and your hand came away soaked.

Jenna dropped beside you in an instant. “Shit. Shit- Y/N- where are you hurt? Where-”

“I don’t-” you panted. “Leg… side- fuck-”

“Okay. Okay, I’ve got you. Just-just breathe, alright?”

You were already trying not to pass out. The world kept tilting. Black dots danced at the edges of your eyes.

Jenna pressed a cloth - something, her sleeve maybe - to your stomach. “Stay with me. Where’s your place?”

You blinked, blinking hard, trying to focus on her voice. “Two streets down. White siding. Solar panels.”

She looked up. Calculating.

“I can get us there,” she muttered. “But you have to stay awake, alright?”

You groaned. “No promises.”

She ignored that. Her hands were already under your shoulders.

The pain was indescribable when she moved you. Your leg throbbed, your vision went white, and you screamed - not just noise, but a sound torn out of you like it didn’t belong to anything human. Jenna flinched but didn’t stop.

“I’m sorry,” she kept whispering. “I’m sorry. Just hold on. I’ve got you.”

You couldn’t walk, not properly, but you gave her directions between choked breaths.

“Left… behind the blue car…”

“Yeah, I see it. We’re close. You’re doing so good, Y/N. Just a little more.”

Every step was a fight not to black out. You kept blinking, forcing your mouth to stay open, kept talking just to make noise. Your ears rang. Your ankle felt like fire. You were fairly certain you’d torn something deeper than you wanted to admit.

Jenna kicked the door open when you finally reached your house.

You didn’t even register the stairs.

You didn’t remember the couch.

You remembered Jenna’s boots slamming against the tile.

The sound of your own breathing - gasping, hitched, like your lungs couldn’t decide what they wanted.

Then there was fabric. The scratch of the blanket. The cold against your back. You were lying down. Your eyes fluttered open for a second, catching the ceiling above you - cracked paint, water stain, familiar. Home.

“Stay with me,” Jenna was saying. Over and over. Her voice was everywhere. Beside your head. Near your stomach. Somewhere by your hands.

You tried to speak. Only managed a whimper.

She was kneeling next to the couch now, her backpack already tossed aside. “Where’s the kit? Y/N, talk to me- where is it?”

“Pantry,” you rasped. “Bottom shelf. Behind… the rice.”

She was up before you finished the sentence, vanishing into the back of the house with heavy, frantic footsteps. You blinked slowly, the world pulling in and out like a tide. Your fingers curled weakly against the couch cushion. It felt like something was leaking from you - not just blood, but strength. Time. Whatever thread you were holding onto was fraying fast.

Jenna returned in less than a minute, the kit slamming onto the glass coffee table hard enough to rattle it. She pulled it open with trembling hands, her gloves discarded, hair sticking to her face.

“I need to see it,” she muttered. “I need to see.”

You didn’t argue.

You didn’t have the energy.

She peeled up your shirt. Her breath caught.

“Oh my God.”

It was bad. You’d seen enough injuries in the last two months to know. The wound across your abdomen wasn’t just deep - it was jagged. Torn. The blood had already soaked through half your shirt, down the side of your hip.

Jenna’s hands hovered over it, then shook once before she snapped on latex gloves from the kit.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Okay. We’re fine. You’re fine.”

You weren’t. And she knew it. But you let her say it anyway.

She cleaned the area - iodine, gauze, more gauze, more blood.

Then she picked up the needle.

You flinched.

“Y/N.” Her voice cracked. “I need to stitch this.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“I’m going to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to.”

You blinked, tears stinging your eyes. “It’s okay.”

She knelt beside you, knees pressing into the floor, hand on your waist.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Then the needle sank in.

You screamed.

It ripped out of you like fire - a sound so loud, so sharp, it made Jenna jerk back, her whole body tense.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry- please just- don’t move-”

You couldn’t help it. Your body twitched, convulsed slightly as your hand slammed against the back of the couch, trying to brace against the pain.

She was crying now. You could hear it in her voice, even if you couldn’t see her face.

“I can’t numb it- there’s nothing to numb it, Y/N, I’m sorry- I need you to stay still-”

You whimpered, your whole body shaking. “I c-can’t- Jen- please-”

“I know, I know-” She bit down on her own sob. “But I have to-”

She pushed the needle in again.

You cried out, louder this time, a strangled sound that felt like it broke you in half.

Her voice cracked. “Please just pass out. Please, Y/N. Just-just go under, I’ll handle the rest- just let go-”

“I’m trying-” you gasped, hands fisting in the blanket.

“I can’t do this if you keep-” Her voice failed. “You’re going to tear more- God, please. I've got you, I got you, please- Y/N-”

The next stitch went in.

And something snapped - not inside your body, but in your mind.

The pain blurred. The light dimmed.

Everything tipped sideways.

You stopped fighting it.

The last thing you heard was Jenna’s broken sob as she gripped your hand tightly in one of hers, the other still working.

“Please don’t die,” she whispered.

And then-

Nothing.

--//--

Part 7

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Franciszka Halamajowa

Chana and Moshe Malc were traditional Jews living in Sokal, Poland (modern-day Ukraine) with their two young children when the Nazis occupied their town in 1941. Immediately, local residents were emboldened to persecute their Jewish neighbors and violent attacks became common. A squalid, overcrowded Jewish ghetto was established in 1942 and the Malcs were taken from their home and forced to live there.

The Germans began rounding people up, a thousand at a time, and sending them from the ghetto to death camps. Frantically, the Malcs found an attic where six-year-old Chaim Malc could hide, and then Chana, Moshe and their toddler Lifsha, growing desperate, took refuge in a dank cellar with 30 other Jews. They were able to rescue Chaim from his solitary hiding place and bring him to the cellar, but unfortunately Lifsha wouldn’t stop crying. Tragically, a Jew who was forced by the Nazis to search for hidden Jews heard Lifsha’s wails and took her from her family and handed her over to a German soldier, making sure that the other Jews in the cellar wouldn’t be discovered.

Devastated by the loss of their precious daughter and aware that their own days in the ghetto were numbered, the Malcs knew their best chance of survival was to find a place to hide outside the ghetto. They managed to sneak out, but where could they go? They knew one Polish woman, Franciszka Halamajowa, and with nowhere else to turn, they went to her home and pleaded for help. Chaim Malc later explained how the family knew Franciszka. “You never know when you do a favor for someone what it will bring eventually. In 1936, my father and grandfather were traveling with a horse and wagon and they stopped for a woman who was waiting at the side of the road with a lot of parcels – this was how they met Franciszka.”

A kind-hearted woman who was grateful for the Malcs’ help several years before, Franciszka and her young adult daughter Helena warmly welcomed the Jewish family into their humble home. They furnished a small attic room above the pigsty for the Malcs and provided for all their needs. Franciszka’s son Wilmus helped them procure extra food and supplies for the hidden Jews. Franciszka and her family were fully aware of the risks they incurred by secretly sheltering the Malc family; the penalty for hiding Jews was execution on the spot. Franciszka was a devout Catholic who believed that God put the Malcs in her life so that she could help them. 

Soon, members of the extended Malc family also moved into Franciszka’s cramped attic, including Moshe’s mother, sisters and niece. A few months after that, Moshe’s brother Shmelke joined them, along with the four-person Kindler family, bringing the total of attic dwellers to thirteen. They had to keep quiet, and spent the long days praying, writing, and playing chess. Moshe Malc kept a diary in Yiddish, his native tongue. Amazingly, young Chaim later said, “There were high spirits in the hideout in the attic.”

Dr. Kindler was an experienced local physician who provided medical care when needed to the thirteen people in the tiny attic. Sadly, Chaya-Dvora Malc, Moshe’s sister, died of typhus and was buried under the apple tree in Franciszka’s yard. Dr. Kindler’s medical acumen prevented anybody else from getting sick, and in fact saved their lives in another way. Franciszka’s neighbors found out about the hidden Jews and threatened to report them to the Gestapo. In exchange for free medical care from Dr. Kindler, the neighbors kept their mouths shut. Meanwhile, the Polish residents of Sokal were abandoning the city because of the fear of enemy attacks. 

After the Jews had been safely hidden for twenty months, Franciszka was devastated when Nazis suddenly turned up at her front door. They didn’t know about the hidden Jews; they were there to build radar equipment on the roof of Franciszka’s home. Certain that the end was near, the Jews actually contemplated committing mass suicide rather than be sent to a Nazi death camp. Miraculously, the Germans suddenly abandoned the project – perhaps because the Russian army was closing in on Sokal. 

One month later, the city was liberated and for the first time in almost two years, the Malcs and Kindlers went outside. They were surprised to learn that Franciszka had actually hidden three more Jews inside her home, and they helped her cook meals and do laundry for the Malcs and Kindlers. Chaim later remembered the monumental day of liberation. “We emerged on a sunny day in July. We could hardly talk or walk. I was eight years old.” The thirteen Jews hidden by Franciszka were among only 30 of Sokal’s 6000 Jews to survive the war.

The Malcs went from Sokal to a Displaced Persons camp in Germany, where they had another son, Nathan, and then they immigrated to the United States. Franciszka never told anybody about her brave actions during the war, and went to her grave as an unknown hero. In 1984, Franciszka (posthumously) and Helena were honored as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem.

Moshe Malc’s diary survived the war to become a family treasure. Sixty-four years after they were liberated, Moshe’s granddaughter Judy Maltz made a feature-length documentary about Franciszka Halamajowa, the brave and pious Polish woman who saved three Jewish families. The movie is called “No 4 Street of Our Lady” – Franciszka’s address. It wasn’t until after the movie came out that Franciszka’s own grandchildren learned the extent of what she did.

For saving 16 Jews from the Nazis, we honor Franciszka Halamajowa as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 13

@flufftober

Prompt(s): Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

Title: Attic

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gn!Reader (with use of doll but no other gender references used)

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, Arachnophobia, implied smut at the very end (but I did write with the intention of just kisses!), retching/vomiting/nausea mentioned, literally as scared as you could possibly imagine, crying, panicking, comfort, friends to lovers (ig?), petnames (doll)

Summary: You haven't cleared out your attic in a long time and rope in Bucky to help you; not expecting to be scared out of your wits.

Word count: 2k

A/N: This is one of 3 fics I had for this prompt. They will get linked here and on the Masterlist once they've been edited. Can you tell I'm arachnophobic? I'm so scared of spiders it's untrue (and I may have or may not have experienced the retching from fear hahaha) - Love, Grem x

Attic | Cellar | Hidden Room

Prev | Next | Masterlist

Your attic had not been cleared out in years. The accumulation of stuff and things was now too much and you knew you needed to sort through memories, keepsakes and – let’s be real – shit you no longer needed. So, you enlisted the help of your roughest, toughest, friend to help you along; Bucky Barnes.

Although he usually preferred holding onto memorabilia, he knew how to keep you on task, unlike Steve who would simply melt at your puppy dog eyes. No. You needed Bucky to help you be strong.

And you needed him to stand guard to protect you from anything that might move in the attic.

You weren’t necessarily squeamish, but one big reason you had opted to ignore the growing mass of stuff-and-things was spiders. Attics , especially old ones like yours, held untold horrors of gigantic eight-legged fiends that 100000% would attack you if given the chance.

Maybe poison you.

And eat you.

Maybe.

Regardless of whether the fear was justified or not, the fear remained and Bucky was the only one you felt would adequately protect you from such a creature. Even if you had never seen said fiends in your house thus far.

You made Bucky go into the attic first. There were two reasons for this. The first was if there were any spiders lying in wait as the attic door popped open, they would get him first and you could run. The second was so that you could subtly appreciate his strong build from the other end of the landing.

“Doll, why are you standing so far away?” Bucky had queried after opening the hatch and turning on the attic light. He was turning to look at you with a raised brow, utterly confused as you tentatively stepped closer to the ladder.

“Just in case you fell,” you lie, your nerves shot. “Wouldn’t want to get crushed.”

Bucky chuckles. “So you’d not cushion my fall? That’s nice to know.”

He crawls up the ladder and you follow closely behind, racing up the steps quickly before you chicken out. You and Bucky pull boxes and make chit chat about memories linked to your boxes and share stories about growing up. Soon, you’ve relaxed enough to actually begin enjoying the time you’re spending with Bucky.

“Thanks for helping me,” you say, smiling over at him as you open the next box.

“It’s no problem, doll.” Bucky smiles back, filling up another bag of stuff for charity. “But I don’t know why you couldn’t get up here yourself?”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should say anything about your irrational fear of spiders, but decide against it.

“Just wanted the company, is all.” It’s a half truth, you like having Bucky around. Well, a lot more than just like. But it’s a can of worms you aren’t willing to open with him yet.

Bucky seems satisfied with your answer and hums in response. A comfortable silence settles as you both work, sorting through your stuff-and-things, dust pluming and giving a stuffy air to the warm attic. Your eyes occasionally rake over Bucky and your thoughts begin to walk in circles. You were grateful for his friendship, his help and his kindness. You only wished you could pluck up enough courage to ask him out on a date – without the worry that it would jeopardise your friendship. You also didn’t want to embarrass yourself if you’d read too much into the spared glances and giggles you both shared.

You stuck your arm into the black bag before you, mindlessly repeating the same conversation with yourself when you felt something on your arm. You frown and try to peer into the bag. The sticker on the side read winter clothes so it must have been a finger of a glove or a-

It moved.

You freeze. No. You were imagining things. It was totally a glove. Your hand is balled into a tight fist in the bag, lost between layers of scarves and jumpers, but there is definitely something moving against your forearm.

Bucky looks over at you concerned. Super soldier hearing means he can not only hear the sound of your stuttered breathing ; he can also hear your heart racing so erratically that he thought you would pass out. Bucky watches as you stay still and you whisper his name so quietly he almost misses it.

“Yeah doll? You okay?”

You turn to look at him slowly and Bucky’s concern grows exponentially when he sees tears in your eyes. You shake your head, slowly. He takes a step towards you, making the floor board creak loudly. The vibration of the floorboard makes the thing against your arm wriggle further and you let out a hushed sob.

What had you said about not embarrassing yourself in front of Bucky?

Your lip quivers and tears spill from your eyes as you look at him, seeing his confused and concerned expression. Words die in your throat and you just nod and your arm. Bucky's blue eyes drift downwards following your arm into the black bag. He doesn’t see anything at first and was about to ask if this was some sort of prank. However, as bad luck would have it, very long, very hairy legs appear at your elbow.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky mutters, staring wide eyed. You’re too busy having an existential crisis to care but if you weren’t you’d probably throw something at him.

“Please,” you choke out hoarsely refusing to look down at your arm. You felt nauseous. Maybe you’d pass out. Or throw up.... or both.

Bucky looked at you and then back down to your arm where four pairs of eyes blinked up at him.

“I’ll need a cup.”

“Fuck you and your cup!” You hiss angrily. “You have a metal arm. Just pick him up and throw him out.”

Bucky looks at you dumbfounded, as if you’ve suggested something utterly disgusting, then realisation dawns and he flexes his metal hand. “Oh, yeah.”

The spider moves a little higher, long fuzzy legs tickling the crease in your elbow as it feels its way up your arm slowly. It’s enough to make you heave. If being freaked out by a spider wouldn’t embarrass you in front of Bucky, vomiting from fear would. Your retching seems to snap Bucky out of his stupor of forgetting he does in fact, have a metal arm to deal with the spider. Bucky watches as your shoulder violently move as you retch again, harder this time, and listens to your staggered breathing as you attempt to stay in control.

He reaches over with his metal palm up, placing it gently against your bicep. The vibranium was luke-warm against your flushed skin. You were already breaking a sweat from anxiety mixed with the tepid dry heat of the attic and wished for once his arm was cool to bring some relief.

“Just stay still, doll.” Bucky instructs softly, waiting for the perfect moment as the spider makes its way into Bucky’s palm. You bite back a venomous quip, clamping your mouth shut instead. Once the spider is nestled in his palm, Bucky reels back and throws it across the attic. The spider lands in the cushioned yellow foam between the floorboards, re-orienting itself briefly, before scuttling awkwardly into a crevice.

Bucky would have turned back to you to comfort you but there was an empty space where you once stood. Upon feeling the spider and Bucky’s hand leave your arm, you had practically thrown yourself from the attic. You didn’t even know if you took the ladder or jumped. You were too pre-occupied crying on your bed, trying desperately to calm down.

Bucky appears at your bedroom door with a gentle knock and a soft smile as your wiping your eyes, breathing finally evening out enough with only a few hiccups of sobs.

“Sorry,” you say thickly, sniffing pitifully. “And thanks for getting rid of it.”

Bucky shrugs and comes closer to you, sitting next to you on the bed. “He was pretty damn big, gave me a fright too.”

The thought of the spider scaring Bucky too makes you smile over at him. You sniff again and realise you must look crazy; crying and hyperventilating over a spider touching you. You shiver at the thought and try to quell a wave of nausea. You rub the arm the spider was on subconsciously, your mind tricking you into thinking that something is on you again.

Bucky seems to take notice because he places his flesh hand over yours to stop you rubbing your arm too hard. You look over at him again and notice his eyes are looking into yours with a knowing kindness that makes your heart stutter.

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He says firmly and then, quieter, he asks, “Is that why you wanted me here?”

You nod. “I... I don’t do well with spiders.”

“I can see that,” Bucky grins and you shoot him a glare. But it’s half hearted and you falter into a chuckle. You rub at your eyes again, removing the last of the tears.

“I just wanted to make sure I didn’t pass out if I saw one. And I like your company so... two birds.” You shrug sheepishly and Bucky nudges your shoulder with his playfully.

“Well, congrats doll. You didn’t pass out. And...” He trails for a moment, deciding on what to say. “I like your company too.”

You feel your cheeks go a little pink but say nothing. You take a deep breath and exhale a long  exhaustive, lung-emptying breath, body finally letting go of the adrenaline. However, it all kicks up again when you feel Bucky inch closer to wrap his arm around you in an incredibly awkward, yet incredibly comforting side hug. He pulls you close and you're squished against his shoulder as he rests his chin on your head. Your face heats and you don’t know where to put your newly sweaty palms other than onto your jeans. Finally, you breathe and it’s like a switch flips. You relax entirely in Bucky’s embrace and lean your head into his shoulder, mumbling thanks.

You head vibrates as Bucky’s chest rumbles with a chuckle. “No worries doll. But maybe we cut the sorting short for today, huh? You made good progress.”

You beam proudly, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah. I think so. We were only up there for about two hours."

You hum thoughtfully, breathing in the scent of his aftershave. "So, uh, do you want to watch a movie or something? I’d feel bad that you came all the way here to help.”

“Sure. I’d like that.”

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

You don’t really know how long you sit together, breathing in the smell of him, slotting under him as if you were always meant to. It isn’t  until you sigh as your eyes flutter closed that you feel Bucky’s head move. His nose brushes the your crown and he inhales the scent of your shampoo and ever so gently presses his lips against your hair.  You shift, unsure of how to react, and that makes Bucky stiffen with the realisation he’d just kissed your head on autopilot. Your cheeks flush – as do his. Yet you both remain silent for a few more moments.

“Bucky?” you call out quietly.

“Yeah, doll?”

Another pause.

“Do that again.”

He hesitates but complies.

And continues to comply every time you command it, eventually kissing all the way down to your cheeks, hovering at your lips. With one last command, he meets your eyes briefly before they flutter closed and your lips meet.

Neither of you watch the movie until, much, much later and even then you’re both too wrapped up in one another to care. That day was the first of many good days to come.

Who'd have thought you would be thankful to a spider for bringing you and Bucky together?

[ckret2]

I believe I remember a post you wrote once, as an answer to an ask maybe, where you mentioned that you forgot not everyone has a clear mental map of the Mystery Shack's layout as you do, and some people were confused about what floors existed and how you were writing characters coming from where. I wanted to check the post again since iirc you explained or described some stuff in there, but I can't find it >_< I was mostly wondering, does the Mystery Shack have a basement that isn't connected to the elevator, and is this where Ford's room is, or is it in the ground floor? I feel like I see people treat the shack like it has 3 floors completely separate from everything the elevator leads to but I might also just be confused

i'm not gonna put the effort into digging that post back up but you're in luck because the basements weren't addressed in that post so it wouldn't have helped anyway!!!

Yes, the Mystery Shack DOES have another room that appears to be a basement, separate from THE basement with the elevator where the portal is! We see it in Bottomless Pit:

We never see how this room connects to the rest of the shack so we can't guarantee that it's underground. But the concrete-looking floor, plain cracked walls, bare bulb, exposed pipes, utilitarian hot water heater & washing machine, and very high window all scream "basement."

I personally call this room "the cellar" to distinguish it from THE basement.

We never fully see the wall that would be to Soos's left, so we aren't SURE that there's no additional doors down there, but there's no evidence of any.

As to where Ford's room is, it depends on which of Ford's rooms you mean. If you mean Ford's room as in the one that was revealed in The Last Mabelcorn, it's part of the elevator basement levels:

But you probably don't mean that one since we see them taking the elevator down to it.

If you mean the one revealed in Carpet Diem, it's somewhere in the main house:

Both the room itself and the hallway outside the room have normal large windows, preventing the room from being underground; and the room has a tilted ceiling with sunbeams coming through, indicating it's directly under the roof.

A complication: we don't know where the staircase on the left goes and there's no sensible place to put it based on what we do know about the house's layout. But that's the case with several locations in the house.

Based on the map we have of the house, this room is likely the "study." Notice that the shape of the hall leading to the room (dead ending against an outer wall) and the fact that there's a hall on the side of it lines up with the study's location; even if the staircase doesn't lol.

The reason a lot of people headcanon the shack has three stories is because the first floor's fully accounted for with these blueprints, (the three unlabeled rooms are the entryway, kitchen, and office), there's nothing in the attic but an open floor and the kids' room, and yet there's multiple rooms we have no location for (Stan's bedroom, the storage room the wax figures were found in, ANY of the bathrooms). The doylist explanation is that the showrunners wanted the shack to be a little magical with a confusing layout (up until they dropped these blueprints) so it doesn't always make internal sense; but if you want a watsonian explanation for where those rooms were, "second floor" is the easiest.

[phoenixs-fandoms-and-writings]

Saving You

Fandom: Harry Potter (fuck JKR)

Pairing: Poly!Marauders/GN!reader

Plot: you’ve been taken by the Death Eaters. Even though you’ve been trying to break out from your attic cage, you haven’t been able to break free until one day, you see three familiar faces coming towards the house.

Notes: I don’t agree with JKR and her views or beliefs.

This was inspired by @flufftober 2024’s day 13 prompt: attic, cellar, hidden room.

Flufftober 2024 Masterlist - General Masterlist

I do not give permission to anyone to repost or translate any of my stories. I also do not give anyone permission to feed my stories through AI or to be posted to any third party website or app. If anyone sees any of my work posted anywhere but here or my AO3 (simplyreflected), then it has been posted without permission.

Read on AO3 here.

You don’t know how long you’d been in the attic of this house. You couldn’t figure out why they didn’t shove you into the dungeon. That seemed more like what Death Eaters did.

But up here, you had a window, but even though you had been told that it was unbreakable, thanks to their charms, you still tried.

You hadn’t tried breaking the window yet today, but maybe you didn’t have to. Coming towards the house were three figures that were familiar to you; Sirius Black, James Potter and Remus Lupin. You thought one of them had looked up and saw you, but you couldn’t tell since they kept walking.

When they were out of your line of sight, you started screaming, “HELP! I’M UP HERE! HELP! PLEASE HELP ME! DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!”

Finally, you heard banging on the other side and when you shut up, hoping that it was one of them, you heard James’ voice, “Get away from the door!”

You moved away and told him, “done that, now what?”

Next thing you knew, the door was halfway across the room and for the first time, you saw James walk in. You ran up to him, hugging him, “thank you, Jamie.”

“You’re welcome,” he pulled you back to look at you before leaning down to kiss you. “Go on a date with me?”

“Yes,” you hugged him again and there you stayed until the other two walked in.

“You don’t need to worry about them anymore, dove,” Remus told you, before he kissed you. When you pulled back, you were confused, but Sirius pulled you in for a kiss. The other two coming in from behind you - James kissing your neck and Remus kissing the top of your head, before kissing Sirius’ neck.

When Sirius pulled back, you saw him stare at you and James with complete lust. “Go on a date with all of us, darling, please? We want you to be ours.”

James stopped kissing your neck and kissed your cheek.

“Yes, I’d love to be yours. To be with all of you,” you looked around the room, moving more into James, “but can we please get out of here?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Remus said as he led all of you out. And you never once saw any of the Death Eaters who had been holding you, but you didn’t care, you finally had your guys.

[spookitordukeit]

Okie dokie!!! This is a rough image of the house layout in Dykwyk?

I have redrawn this 5 times. I have spent 164 hours into this. I can’t keep looking at this thing thing, please take it from me—

This isn’t a one-to-one scale by any means, and some rooms might be smaller or larger then they are in this layout— I’ve never made a layout before but I tried my best ;^; some things may be subject to change, but this is generally what I’m going off of when I write.

A Helpful Key:

Red lines are doors, double red lines are double doors.

Purple lines are hidden doors.

Yellow lines are hidden passages.

Ground floor:

It contains four bedrooms, a kitchen, scullery room, butlers pantry, a garage/workshop, a parlor room, four bathrooms, a laundry room, dining room, mud room, conference room, sun room, and a library.

This floor is more for show then to actually be properly used. It’s where you entertain guests and show off your wealth. Even the kitchen is more show then actually used, as most of the cooking is done in the scullery by employees. Generally at Kristen’s request.

There’s many places to access the secret passageways on this floor, and Harper uses them regularly to hide away or sneak around the house. They were her favorite place as a child.

Bedroom one and two have a connected panic room hidden behind secret doors. They used a be two children’s rooms when the house was built, but now function as a hide away or extra storage.

A spiraled staircase in the library leads down to the lower level of the library, and brings you down to the basement.

The butlers pantry has a hidden servants door that leads to the main cellar in the basement.

The back door leads to the gardens.

Upstairs/second floor:

It has six bedrooms, including two master bedrooms. Master Bedroom 1 belongs to Kristen.

Besides that, it has a lounge, a kitchen, a dining room and bar space, an office, a laundry room, and three bathrooms.

This is considered the main ‘living’ floor. The stairs up require magic confirmation from the security system, or specific permissions imputed for guests. It’s a far less formal, and more intimate space. Still spectacular, but more like a home then a showroom.

The lounge hosts an array of electronics and general livingroom items, along with a needlessly large flat screen for optimal viewing.

The two master bedrooms have a connecting secret passageway that has access to the office and the dimming room.

Attic/Harper’s room:

It contains a bathroom, a walk-in-closet, a laundry shoot, a hidden panic room, a small living area, a sun/cat room, and of course, Harper’s bed.

This space was converted specifically for her as a child, so there’s many things catered to Harper’s taste. Such as a dedicated cat room and a panic room with access to the hidden passages.

The SPE stands for Secret Passage Entry. The black and white void across from it is a perma-portal Harper had installed for Tortellini. The gray box next to the tv is a mini fridge.

Basement:

It contains three bedrooms, two bathrooms, the second floor to the library with direct connection with the study, a gym room, an art room, a home theater, a small kitchen, a wine and food cellar, a panty, fridge, and freezer room, an open space game are, the main laundry room with connections to all the laundry-shoots throughout the house, a large panic room, a storage room, and a utility room.

This is the den of the home. It’s cozy, with warm lighting and soft carpet floors. The walls are lined with rich woods, and the whole space oozes with comfort.

It was the servants quarters when it was originally built, but has long since been converted.

The panic room on this floor is connected to every secret passageway in the house.

Now onto the outside!

This is the grounds layout

The main fixture is, of course, Harper’s home. Beyond that, the building labeled S.S stands for Sulfur’s Security.

As head of security, Sulfur opts to reside right at the entrance of the grounds. He’s in charge of everything from watching the cameras, to operating the front gate. Beside his home is a small shed and utilities like condenser units. (The AC machine.)

Further up is the Garage. Self explanatory. Holds more than 20+ cars for when hosting events. Mainly used for employee parking.

Just above that are two Guest Houses labeled G.H. Outside is a shed and utilities. The smaller guest house is occupied by the head gardener and their family.

The square simply labeled G is the gazebo, located just within the edge of the garden.

The large structure in the back labeled H.H is Helper Housing. They are fairly sized condo-like homes that the people employed by Harper live in along with their families. It’s a pretty sweet deal.

The big, somewhat circular shapes behind the guest houses and the main house are the gardens.

And a rough idea of Sulfur’s home:

The red outline is a bunker that can only be accessed by getting into the secret entrance, and then traveling down the hidden elevator. Because Sulfur is a paranoid freak. The SPE room leads to the underground tunnels that cover a majority of the grounds, including the main manor.

The above floor is mostly just a decoy, as being the first building people come across when approaching the grounds, could be subject to attacks.

The weird zigzags on the main floor is because once again, Sulfur is a freak from a horror verse where he essentially played the role of Horror Sans. He likes his traps :)

He has access to tons of sensitive information, and the entire upper floor is rigged to, at the very least, put anyone unauthorized into mild-to-major peril.

Because Sulfur is a Grillby, and because he suffered severe damage in his original AU, he has to manually heat his core. Thus the ‘heat room’. It’s basically a broiler room on steroids, and it would probably kill a human if they needed up caught in there.

Okay okay, I’m done yapping now. I need to go to bed anyway because I’ve got the Night Shift and I haven’t slept yet— *sobs*

Lemme know if you have any questions or is anything was confusing! I’m always happy go elaborate and yap more!

Also, any suggestions about what skele should go where??? The only one I’ve really settled on is putting Grim in room 11, and Maybe putting Edge in master bedroom 2, because he’s vain like that.

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Whump vs Flufftober: Day 13

familial curse / Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

After the initial upset, it turned out not to be so bad living here, Yuu thought.

Living in a creaky old mansion had its downsides- shopping was annoying, though Yuu was able to outsource it. Cleaning, they could also outsource, although they felt bad when they weren’t pulling their own weight.

The staff for a house of this size was extraordinarily small, but it was balanced out by the fact that only the shadowy, unseen master lived here as a resident. So that still left Yuu, as the manager of this house, to figure how to make repairs and fix things.

Building up their initial reservoir of knowledge had been difficult, but Yuu felt stronger and more self-reliant now that they were able to cut, sandpaper, paint and varnish their own doors, or figure out a whole meal from little else than the catch of the day and an orange.

It was the thought of meals that took up a lot of Yuu’s mind nowadays.

Ever since that fateful day, when the master of the house, Tsunotaro, had sent up word from Lilia that he’d found the rosemary and chives made the roast pheasant dish they’d had served delectable, Yuu had sough to capture that joy that had crept into Lilia’s voice when he’s relayed the message.

Most of the servants had a grim sort of pallor to them, or at least they he when Yuu had begun to work there. Nowadays, they didn’t all look so bad, but Yuu was still under the impression that expressions of happiness in association with the master were something of a small treasure.

Yuu hadn’t had to guess for long, though, because that very master had visited that night.

Shaking off those thoughts, Yuu reviewed the meal they had planned for tonight. Hearty, warm and plentiful, their creamy-chunky potato soup, to be served with crunchy and savory bits of toasted bread, as well as a few sprigs of fresh vegetables Yuu had plucked from the budding garden they’d been working on, and had made the best they could.

The presence of the master permeated through all of the walls of the formerly drafty house.

When they'd first gotten here, Yuu had thought there was nothing but his presence in this desolate house, stirring the dust with a lazy finger, and tickling the noses of the sparse staff.

But, as Yuu had boarded up holes, swept up the mess, arranged furniture, and hung curtains, the true spirit of the house had come to life, as if it had been dormant prior to their arrival.

The winds blew harsher now, the first time winter had returned since they'd come here, but the house no longer rattled with every gust. Instead, it stood firm, protecting the fires that slept within, and allowing its inhabitants to stay warmth.

Yuu could walk around and feel the strong heart of the house beating under the floorboards with them. It felt like a crazy thought, but Yuu was sure it was true.

As the potatoes simmered, one of the other servants opened the kitchen door.

"Hey, Yuu?" Ace, a hire Yuu had made to help around the house whom they'd grown surprisingly close to, was sticking his neck into the kitchen.

"What's up?" they said, sprinkling in a bit of salt for flavor. The potato soup was good, but Yuu was going for fantastic.

"Do you know where we'd have a flathead screwdriver?" he asked.

That was, in fact, something Malleus knew well. "There should be one in the toolbox in the cleaning closet. but check with Silver first, because he has a habit of taking it and putting it down in the sitting room."

"Thanks!" Ace slapped the doorframe and ran off, and Yuu turned their attention back to the soup.

They got an idea, and tried to banish it as soon as it came.

Biting their lip, Yuu grabbed flour, yeast, and a mixing bowl, and quickly stirred together dough for biscuits.

With one eye on the burbling pot of potatoey goodness, Yuu quickly got a batch of biscuits in the oven as the kitchen filled with the delightful scent of cozy, autumnal food.

Lowering the heat on the pot, Yuu kept stirring until the biscuits were almost done. Then, they quickly ladled out the appropriate number of portions, at least one on a silver tray that would be delivered to Tsunotaro.

The rest of them had been given permission to eat in the main dining hall. so long as there was no one else to be hosted that night. The ranks of the servants had grown quite a bit, and they all liked to eat with each other nowadays.

As a warm, buttery, and faintly burning smell overtook the kitchen, Yuu scrambled to get the stove to turn off and serve each bowl of soup with a nice, warm biscuit.

Yuu wiped the sweat off their brow, the heat of the kitchen getting to them, and dashed off to serve the food.

That night, Yuu was finishing up a few scribbles in their notebook, cross-legged as they sat in the fading candlelight of their desk.

Yuu yawned, wiping the tears of exhaustion from their eyes. They were ready to go to bed, when the shadow at their door appeared.

They could hardly contain the gasp that threatened to spill out of their lips, but the surprise was impossible to hide.

It was him. Though rarely seen and hardly visible, Yuu didn't need to see the horns curling off the top of his head to know it was him, in their hearts.

They stood there, staring at each other for a few moments.

"Hello," he said, in a low tone. "I... I wanted to tell you that the soup was delicious."

Yuu didn't say anything at first. "Thank you," they finally replied.

They stood there, staring at each other as their shadows crawled up the walls of their room.

"You know," they said, rising from their chair. "You haven't come by."

"I know," he replied. "I have been somewhat busy."

"You haven't done anything else, either," they said in a contemplative tone, approaching him more.

He usually stuck to door frames and corners, the darkest shadows of any room. Yuu had taken this to mean that Tsunotaro didn't like it when they got too close.

Right now, however, he wasn't backing up.

"I-"

"Do you not like me?" they asked, in the slightest bit of a mocking tone.

"It's not that," he insisted.

"Then... what is it? You haven't made a move in all these months," they pouted.

Tsunotaro scoffed lightly. Yuu was only inches from where they thought his chest was.

They tried to stare at his eyes, meet his piercing gaze, but Tsunotaro's eyes flicked away quickly.

The last of the candlewick gave out, and Yuu felt someone grabbing their arms, bring them in for a kiss, and shove them back into their room.

[pinesfamilyguidetotheweird]

Gravity Falls Headcanon: Mystery Shack Layout

This is the kind of stuff that makes me lose sleep/braincells over.

The Mystery Shack itself is an anomaly, I feel. A lot of the time, its interior is bigger than what the exterior shows. Of course, these inconsistencies are kinda commonplace in Western animation (heck, it even happens in Bluey) and are sometimes changed to fit a perspective or scene.

Me, a gal who worries/overthinks too darn much, is incredibly bothered by this…And I really shouldn’t be. I think the Mystery Shack was meant to be like this for the sake of weirdness.

Still though…

I want to do my own little headcanon about the Mystery Shack.

First and foremost, there won’t be a 100% accuracy for the reasons above. This is my take on it. Also, while the Gravity Falls Wiki doesn’t show or imply that there is a second floor before the attic, I will add a second floor because…the shack has one helluva to it. Why won’t it have a second floor? There are other things too, but I’ll get to them when I get to them.

I am also trying to make visual aids too, via Google Slides. Not sure if they’ll get the point across. If you see a dot, that’s for scale. The dot is a person…not sure if it is the right size for it though…

Some would be obvious, others would probably be different from your own views.

First off…this place is massive! Wow…

Attic

I wanted to start at the tippy-top.

So, here is the attic floor that leads to the room that acts as Dipper and Mabel’s room. There is an alcove space next to the door and a loft area above the alcove.

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

Second Floor

I realized that the idea of extra rooms on this floor makes the plot/conflict of Carpet Diem moot. Then again…I feel that the plot/conflict was kinda filler-y (outside of the twins being siblings). The only point of interest is the reveal of Ford’s room and his glasses.

Plus, some sources seem to point that Ford’s room was on the first floor, but the way the Pines looked up when Soos made his discovery made it seem like the room was on a floor above…at least to me.

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

First Floor

The only consistent thing about the Mystery Shack is the kitchen, living room, and gift shop.

Also, did you know that there is a cellar beneath the gift shop? I didn’t either until I looked at screenshots! Speaking of...

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

Cellar/Basement (B1)

In most places, the laundry equipment is in the basement.

I decided to place the storage room here because 1) the cement flooring and 2) the window. The size of the window is usually for basements/cellars.

There are two basement entries: One below the stairs to the second floor and another that leads to the elevator in the storage room.

As for the elevator, I estimated it to be in the storage room, but Stan made a new wall around the elevator to keep the secret. I'd imagine that the wall isn't there anymore.

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

B2

I do think that there are more rooms here for other research purposes. I’m not entirely sure if I want to add more rooms, but I guess it depends on the story I write.

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

B3

Not much to say here, except for the obvious that the Portal room might have a new purpose.

[mothmothm0th]

an invention that is safe to create

Buttonbush had fun at the farmer's market! Fresh produce! Foreign streetfood! Fellow dolls darting about! Plenty to awawa about! But now it was on its way home. Buttonbush couldn't wait to see Miss again! Miss had been working on something sure to be amazing and clever for days now. She hadn't been eating too much. That was typical of her when she got into something exciting. But surely she would love the panini Buttonbush chose for her! Buttonbush knew what Miss enjoys!

No one was there to welcome Buttonbush home. Not even her fellow dolls were there! Usually, Snowdrop would be doing preliminary research for Miss, or perhaps Jessamine would be doing the dishes. Baneberry had a habit of sitting on the bottom stair like a silly kitty cat. The fact that the cottage was empty meant Miss' project must be at a critical juncture. And that meant Miss needed food, badly!

Quickly, though not hastily, Buttonbush put away its groceries. Gosh, the pantry and the fridge felt so barren before Buttonbush's intervention. Even emptier than when it left for the market! Though, the fridge had only had a half-empty jar of mayo so perhaps it was exaggerating. Still! Even the mayo was gone!

With just the panini in its basket, Buttonbush climbed down to the cellar. Dank airs and low light was how Miss liked it. Her cottage had two floors and an attic aboveground but below it was a sprawling mess of tunnels and chambers. A rhizome, Miss called it! Many of the tunnels led to a dead end. Sometimes, Miss joked about luring one of her amicable enemies down a tunnel and laying down a brick wall behind them. Or maybe she had already done that. Several of the tunnels were blocked off by brick walls! Not all of them. Some just had an unfinished feel to them.

But the winding tunnel Buttonbush walked down was neither blocked off or unfinished. No, it led to a set of doors. And behind them, another set! Buttonbush made sure to close the first doors before it opened the second. A light gust of oxygen, hydrogen, and assorted gasses from foreign realities welcomed it to Miss' newest workshop. Buttonbush needed to take gentle steps now. The path sloped downwards and Miss had decided not to waste her dolls' time tiling it. Smart of her! Once, a patch of ground had challenged Baneberry to debate the ethics of floors. Poor doll. It still wore Miss' floaty spell charm sometimes to avoid having to touch the ground. If the Walpurgis Council learned of Miss' use of strange spaces, they would frown! One time, a nice maker had come 'round to talk to Buttonbush and Jessamine about it but neither doll told him. Miss was just that good! She had used alternate methods to remake herself, after all.

Soon, the tunnel opened up to a large chamber. Buttonbush hadn't actually been here before. It was neither a familiar or an assistant engineer, and Miss generally visited upstairs for meals, so Buttonbush had no need to come visit. Thus, you can imagine its shock when it saw the room was dominated by a massive wooden construction. Thick branches or perhaps roots had seemingly grown in a wicker-like pattern into a cage around a floating orb made of... was that teak? Branches jutted out like giant spikes. Buttonbush wasn't quite sure what the thin ribbons that seemed caught in the teak orb's rotational currents were but they reminded it of fungal hyphae. Oh, but there was Miss, covered in dirt and half-dried mud, sniffing the air. She could explain! Hello Miss!

"Buttonbush my saviour, I shall savour the savoury treat you have brought me. Your savoir-faire is most..." Miss scratched the base of her antennae. "Salient. That shall have to work." Buttonbush couldn't help but giggle. "Say, my sacred darling, you look ever so fascinated by my sable contraption. Shall I satiate your curiosity? A light seance before we activate it."

"Buttonbush would love to listen to Miss explain her work! Buttonbush loves listening to Miss," Buttonbush said. It paused for a moment and continued: "Even when Miss has been reading her rhyming dictionary."

Miss' laugh straddled the line between a cackle and a giggle. "Worry not, worrywort. My work is nearly done. I shan't need use warding speech any further."

Warding speech. Buttonbush had heard Baneberry talk about it. Sometime about avoiding predictability, to keep strange spaces strange. Mundanity led to stagnation, and stagnation made Miss' magicks worse. But Miss always spoke a little strangely. Buttonbush couldn't tell the difference between her regular and warding speech.

Miss whistled, beckoned her dolls to her. Buttonbush snapped back to reality as Baneberry, Jessamine, Foxglove, and Snowdrop wandered to them from whichever dark nooks Buttonbush had overlooked. All ball-joints on deck! Jessamine's pretty porcelain dripped oil-like sap, and Snowdrop with her fully articulated face seemed exhausted. Foxglove seemed to practically vibrate with excitement. Baneberry, floating like a carnival balloon, struggled to hold Foxglove's hand.

Miss clapped her hands. "Now then! It is time for framing and naming! Buttonbush!" Miss pointed at Buttonbush, who clutched its basket tighter. "I believe this is your first time! Thus, I shall explain." One finger in the air. "The framing and naming is the final step in strange magicks. Look to the machine. It is a structure in motion, yet the motion is undefined, lacking in Purpose." Buttonbush felt sorry for the wicker and the orb. "This is vital! For only at the end, when the physical shape is prepared, ought one grant it Purpose.

"Hark, machine! For thine thorns shall puncture the veil between This and That! Through you shall flow in the airs of thought and feeling. Thus I define thee." The air felt electric around Buttonbush. "Woven wood, hear me! Arrange your paths so that you may judge thoughtful airs. This shall be your purpose." Buttonbush heard little sounds reminiscent of those sorting algorithm videos Snowdrop had been listening. "Dearest ribbons. You shall flutter, and through your flutter you shall weave for each airy judgement its appropriate doom. Thus you shall be." In an instant, each gossamer ribbon began moving in strange and complex patterns. Yet, Buttonbush could tell, these patterns were empty for now. "And hey, eyes up, you orb. You shall be a portal. A seed that grows inward and strangeward. Guide these doomful thoughts through your rhizome to their rightful minds. Infect the thoughts of wrongdoers!" Buttonbush's head spun. It was glad its Purpose lacked the ability to do wrong.

"And thus, you are framed." Miss was out of breath! She fell to one knee! Buttonbush rushed to her side. Miss shook her head. "No no, dearest. I shall be fine."

"But Miss!"

"I shall be fine," Miss repeated. She rose to her feet again. Her lips were stretched to their limits by a slightly concerning grin. "I'm so close. So close. Finally, I shall have constructed a solution to bullying."

Buttonbush tilted its head. This was about bullying? It knew Miss had been a victim of bullying in her school years. As had Snowdrop, come to think of it. And Baneberry! Jessamine never spoke of such matters but Buttonbush could tell it was hiding things.

"You'll see, Button dearest." Miss cackled, turned her attentions back to her invention. "Hear me now, o contraption mine. For while each part of thee knows its means, now I shall imbue thee with the gestalt of ends. Permit I weave a tale." Miss cleared her throat. "Each and every day, people bully those they deem weaker than them. Each day, their victims' psyches are damaged. The airs I shall have thee pluck from the realm of thought are these painful feelings and the motivations which caused them. These you shall organise and categorise. For each pain, you shall weave a salveful dream. For each perpetrator, you shall conjure a vivid nightmare. These dreams none shall forget, and in rememberance shall one and all realise means to a kinder and happier future. This is your Purpose. A center of pain and healing, the heart of revelation. Thus your name shall be..."

Miss paused, as if waiting for a realisation. It seemed to evade her. She turned to her dolls and motioned towards herself frantically. She needed their ideas! Snowdrop spoke first, bringing up a book she had read; a cautionary tale about the construction of a machine one might indeed call a 'center of pain'. Baneberry laughed to the point of hiccups. Jessamine emoted like a character from its favourite MMO. Miss seemed tired. She turned to Buttonbush, seemingly holding her breath so as to not name the machine the sound of an exhale.

Buttonbush hemmed and hawed. It was bad at names! But it liked the word 'contraption'. So this was a contraption for... thoughts? Dreams? Nightmares... Something something Contraption. It was supposed to make lives better. Hm... perhaps...

"So it's like, a thing that makes dreams into therapy? Like a Dream Therapy Contraption?" Buttonbush said. It wasn't sure. Not one bit. It was silly of Miss to not have a name in mind but perhaps she needed to keep her options open while working on her project. Stagnation and such. But Miss seemed to like it. Maybe that was just relief.

"Thus I name thee, the Dream Therapy Contraption," Miss proclaimed. In an instant, the machine, the Contraption, whirred into life. And as it did, the chamber seemed to stabilise. Buttonbush had already gotten used to how the air here smelled but as it inhaled normal air again, it realised how it had missed it.

Oh, but Miss was not doing so good. Foxglove was already helping prop her up. So resourceful of it. It nodded at Jessamine to get Miss' other side. It wasn't the first time they had served as Miss' crutches. Baneberry floated off ahead of them; to prepare Miss' bed, surely. Snowdrop in turn began collecting tools and grimoires. It just left Buttonbush and its basket, and...

Oh, the panini!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Well, it's a gorgeous 1900 Victorian in Monett, MO. 5bds, 4ba, 2,989sqft, for only $230k. So, I looked up the town and this is what it said: Monett overall is an industrial town with plenty of job offers, a great school system, and average social activities, but doesn't offer many of the needs we rely on as a growing town. Monett is a good-sized town with places to shop and eat; however, it has high crime activity for such a rural town. Well, look at it and see what you think.

It's a beautiful home with original features. The misleading listing says it would make a great bed & breakfast. (Yes, people would flock to a hi-crime town up in the Ozarks.)

Isn't this fabulous, though? The glass windows in the vintage doors look intact, so maybe no one has messed with this house.

Such beautiful original details- the pocket doors and fireplace.

Cozy sitting room. Look at the refinished original floor. I like patina.

Nice large dining room between the kitchen and sitting room.

Oh my, look at the original cabinet in the kitchen. What an amazing piece. There's a glimpse of the half-bath with a great Victorian repro toilet.

Love that it's not remodeled to ultra modern standards. It's still got the original flooring and layout.

This sink fits in perfectly.

From here, you can see the beautiful stairs.

Nice & bright main floor bedroom.

And, it has a vintage ensuite. Looks like an original tub w/a repro sink and water closet toilet. That's how you remodel a Victorian bath.

Stained glass window and plenty of space for a sitting area upstairs.

Large bedrooms.

Very nice.

What a cute original sink in the hall.

Sunny bedroom.

Partially finished attic.

Half bath up here.

Storage under the eaves.

It's pretty bright down here for a cellar.

Laundry and creepy toilet.

Cute original garage.

Nice little garden.

Large side porch on a .32acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/500-5th-St-Monett-MO-65708/126118118_zpid/

[antiquatedsimmer]

“How many bedrooms? Is there an attic? And what about bathrooms?” In Josephine's excitement she hounded Lucile with questions. Lucile chuckled. “Four bedrooms in all. No attic, but there’s a wine cellar—which I I’ll be claiming for myself.”

After a brief pause Lucile added. “I would've gone grander...”

“No, no—it’s wonderful,” Josephine quickly cut her off, drawing in a deep breath. “It’s been so long since I’ve lived in a house that felt like this. It’s just so nice to have room to breathe again.”

Lucile smiled, her gaze softening. “The girls’ room is on the west side, and Aster’s is just down the hall, then a servants room, and facing the front our room should be just around this corner here.”

They stepped inside the master bedroom, across the room sat a chaise lounge, positioned just beneath the tall window, and for a quiet moment, neither of them said a word.

Josephine’s eyes settled on the far wall. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

Lucile turned to her, brow furrowed in confusion.

Josephine smiled, eyes misty. “Because now I don’t want to leave.”

Lucile laughed “Then don’t. Stay here tonight. Get it all out of your system—peek in every cupboard, admire every windowpane. I’ll be back first thing in the morning with the children."

“I should get going,” Lucile murmured, already halfway out. “ Try not to wear yourself out poking through every corner, alright? I’ll see you in the morning. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait—!” Josephine’s voice caught in her throat as she reached out and grabbed Lucile’s wrist.

A sly smile crept across Josephine’s face. Her fingers trailed slowly up Lucile’s sleeve, gentle as ivy, her touch lingering as she inched forward.

“Isn’t it tradition for a couple to christen their new home properly?”

Lucile blinked, caught off guard for a moment—then grinned. “You’re right. How could I forget something so important?”

In that moment, Josephine became acutely aware of just how much strength Lucile had built from her years working the fields—before she could so much as blink, she was swept clean off her feet and slung over Lucile’s shoulder in one effortless motion and out of the room.

" ?! WHA - Lucile what are you doing!? "

" Tradition! " Lucile laughed, already carrying her bride out the room. “You said so yourself—it’s only proper to carry one’s wife across the threshold.”

Before Josephine could utter another word, Lucile spun on her heel taking them back into the to the room and the world shifted beneath her—Lucile plopped her onto their fresh, springy new bed.

“I’m fairly certain you’re meant to carry me over the front door,” Josephine teased.

“That’s true,” Lucile said, crawling across the bed toward her with a wicked gleam in her eye. “But I feared I’d drop you if I had to go all the way down and back up. I can still do it, if you’d like.”

Josephine gasped softly as Lucile’s lips brushed her neck. “No—no, this is more than fine.”

“I love you.” Lucile whispered.

“I love you too.❤️”

[caelwynn]

Caelwynn's Mod List for Stardew 1.6.9+ - PIF (Personal Rooms)

Last Updated: April 17, 2025

PIF - Personal Rooms — A framework that allows the addition of PIFs, rooms that are reached via a purchasable door warp. Allows for the addition of rooms/space beyond what's provided on the map.

AT Screen Doors - PIF — adds paper door retextures to PIF doors using Alternative Textures.

Balcony (PIF) — adds a cute little balcony to decorate and grow a few crops.

Cozy Backyard (PIF) — a cozy backyard for your farmhouse that slightly increases in size with each farmhouse upgrade.

Door Mania (PIF) and More Wall Decor — adds two catalogues, one with over 200 doors to use with PIF, and one with a bunch of other wall decorations.

Dynamic Glass Doors for PIF Windows and Plants — adds three dynamic glass doors that can also be used for PIF mod, six dynamic windows, three plants, several curtains of various colors and two Persian carpets.

Hall of Doors (PIF) — adds three different size PIF hallways where you can fit doors if you're running out of door space.

HxW Cozy Outdoor Dining Area for PIF — adds an adorable outdoor space. Features plenty of space to decorate as well as some tillable tiles for gardening.

HxW Small Business Kitchen for PIF — adds a quaint little kitchen. Features a working kitchen stove as well as a free mini fridge.

HxW Tea Conservatory for CP and PIF — a tea-themed space with room for plants and decor.

(CR) Kisaa's Extra Floors Pack for PIF — a pack of two undecorated extra floors that expand alongside farmhouse upgrades.

(CR) Kisaa's More Hatches and Ladders — a set of vanilla-matching recolors of the 1.6 decorative ladders and hatch + a new attic ladder furniture. Available as an Alternative Textures pack and as additional doors for PIF (can be used simultaneously).

(CR) Kisaa's Tiny Rooms Pack for PIF — a pack of five versatile tiny rooms to spice up your farmhouse or cabin. Some rooms upgrade alongside the farmhouse.

Jen's Storage Rooms (PIF) — offers three different size rooms that allows for the use of casks.

Rustic Attic (PIF) — adds an attic to your farmhouse with PIF. Grows with each farmhouse update and allows for the use of casks.

Aimon's Farmhouse Rooms for PIF — Adds Balcony, Attic and Rooftop as PIF rooms for your farmhouse!

Upper Hall Vanilla — Adds a Second Floor using PIF Framework.

Kana's Bathroom (PIF) — Kana's Bathroom (PIF). Floors and Walls are replaceable and decoratable, bathtub functioning as a source of water and to recharge energy, animated bathtub and shower, and you can sit on the toilet.

AT More Doors - PIF — Adds Retextures to the PIF door sprites. Accessible through Alternative Textures.

Small Room (PIF) — It's a real small house, here you can place beds and mini fridge, the animated fountain works as a water source and the fireplace works for cooking. Walls and floors are replaceable and decoratable.

Simple Cellar for PIF — A PIF room that adds a cask enabled cellar.

The Masterpost for all of the mods is located here.

[ckret2]

I give you... The Sims 4 Mystery Shack. Work in progress.

This isn't done-done, so I'm not gonna show off the whole thing—just some shots that show off just how much I'm trying to match up the details. I'm working with a 30 image limit here so I can't show EVERYTHING, mainly I wanna brag about how accurate it is with some comparison pics.

The reason the cellar door next to the gift shop is so much bigger in my version is because it camouflages an actual functioning doorway to the cellar seen in Bottomless Pit. The back porch currently has a window that's gonna be moved; I put the attic window there based off of its location in Headhunters, but I've now made the executive decision that Headhunters doesn't know what it's talking about and I'll make that window the one under the roof hangout spot.

The Sims 4 doesn't give you the ability to walk on roofs. You have no idea what kind of finagling I've been doing to try to sneak a subtle ladder onto this roof.

Please notice that Bill rug made out of seven other rugs. The blanket-covered table in the middle of the gift shop isn't show-accurate, but it's a yard sale table—so, you can load it up with knickknacks and collectibles, start a yard sale, and let people come in to buy them, thus actually running the Mystery Shack like a business while keeping it a residential lot.

There's no swinging vending machine so I put the hidden staircase behind a bookcase door instead, but I still need to experiment to see if I can't do something tricky with a vending machine.

I even included the hidden safe in the living room, but I'm trying to sample this house with a 30 image post limit, so you'll just have to trust me. There's a LOT of little details like that, but I'm proudest of that one.

Due to the restrictions of making this house fit in a 3D space with walls that line up and converting from cartoon proportions to Sims 4 proportions, the dimensions of a lot of spaces get adjusted—and I think you feel that the most in the kitchen, which is pretty squished. But even squished, it's got everything it's supposed to, in the right places. (Except a wolf head on the fridge. I had a statue up there that the game deleted, I'll put something back up there later.

And I've hit my 30 image limit, so I'm subjecting you to a part two in a moment.

[bessmertny]

We've been living in our house (that we bought together!!!!!) for 1 year and 3 months now! We moved in on bonfire night, 2023.

The house is an 1880s stone mining cottage and is just a little 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom house - the end of a terrace. We have a wooden front porch with a falling-apart front door. The tiny kitchen is a sun trap but always cold, with stone steps down to the back garden - there is sage, rosemary, a buddleja bush, rambling white roses, a pear tree, and 3 blackcurrant bushes.

The living room is also on the ground floor (with a woodburning stove and a door to the cellar!), a bedroom with a wall of pine wardrobe doors and an adjacent bathroom on the 1st floor, and up the stairs behind a door is the attic conversion bedroom (where we keep our computers, and i work from home). We love it, and although a 3rd bedroom would be really nice for hobbies and stuff, it's great for us.

The reason i'm explaining this is bc I've never shared what our house is like, and I used to share everything here. I also want to share that i'm enjoying s l o w l y collecting old furniture and useful trinkets for the house and have absolutely no desire to like - buy anything new. Even lamps, cutlery, prints, etc. I want to replace our ikea stuff (which served us well when we first moved out) with like... old pine chests of drawers. I want to buy a second-hand salt grinder and swap the Billy bookcase for a wooden hutch with closed storage at the bottom, full of sewing bits and our hats and scarves.

The point is: I've always liked enamel and gloss paint and single-pane glass windows and big fat quilts... it's my own taste for things feeling old and cozy... but I equally have this prompt in the back of my head that I'm filling our house with loved and heavy, raw materials like cotton and ceramic and pine and stone because I'd hope it would all be a good-handfeel, warm-smelling, heart-warming place to raise a happy and loved baby