#I need to go to the craft store today after work to make costume pieces and I’m like man…. I just wanna mow hay

[elizabysmal]

i know I’m complaining to the wrong crowd (the gay halloween lover website) but the older I get the more I just do not fuck with halloween. Why is a holiday giving me a homework assignment

[sophieswundergarten]

uno reverse! do you have any favorite fun facts/infodumps you would like to share? :D

Hoo boy, an open invitation to ramble about something that gets my brain excited? I hope you won't regret this. (Also, thank you, Milk :>)

Today we're going to be talking about Deb Cook!!!

Deborah Cook, as she is usually credited in films, is the head of LAIKA's costume department. She has worked on every LAIKA film that has been made, from Coraline (2009) to the upcoming Wildwood (2025).

The thing about stop-motion animation is that there is a massive amount of planning that needs to be worked out before the actual filming process even starts. Part of this is the costume designs for all the puppets, so that they fit into the world and can be used as vessels for a cohesive story.

Cook does a lot of research into historical elements that can be used in costumes, as well as using computers and collaborating with other people in the art department to create her own version of textiles that are perfect for the character. She takes her job very seriously, and works to consider what each character's personality is so she can create a fitting look for them.

But, the!! The thing is, these puppets are generally about eight to twelve inches tall!! So you can't just go to a craft store and buy any old fabric, because the weave might be too rough, or when a camera is focussed on a piece of clothing so small the colors are distorted. So there is a necessary level of detail that must be adhered to, otherwise the final product will be kind of disastrous. You can't just make tiny jeans out of regular denim, you have to find a fabric that looks like denim, but is light enough that it'll be flexible when placed on a tiny puppet.

Now, there are a lot of insanely talented people who create all sorts of miniatures and have come up with ingenious solutions to this that can be pointed out. HOWEVER, a great deal of these are because of how much work LAIKA has put into that field of art in the last seventeen years.

In Coraline, some of the costumes were made out of a child's sock. A sock. And it worked because Deb Cook is a fantastic and dedicated artist who works really hard to do her best in literally everything. But, now that LAIKA has had over a decade of experience and accolades and new highly clever artists joining them, they have come up with many new ways to use technology to help.

But Deb Cook is an artist and she will go out of her way to make something look as authentic as possible. For the iconic beetle crest on Kubo's clothing in Kubo and the Two Strings (2016), she dyed rice paste, painted the fabric, and then carefully washed it off to leave the image.

So, after all of that, and the meticulous attention given to every thread, you must remember that they have to animate all this. That means rigging in skirts and weighted sleeves and armature in capes. Each and every piece of clothing, in addition to needing to be replicated or else durable enough to be used for the two or so years required to make a stop-motion film, must be controlled down to the tiniest motion. In addition, the costume department she manages has to be able to make repairs or tiny alterations when something is damaged or an animator needs to get at the inner workings of a puppet.

There are so many more things that need to be considered in stop-motion versus live action, since the majority of the materials and designs are made from scratch in the studio.

And yet, despite all this, the woman hasn't won any awards

SO. That was my insane, unpolished rant about how much I love Deb Cook. Sorry and/or thank you if you made it this far, and if you want to learn more here are some resources:

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[bwwhitney]

Details about the play:

Winter is on the way and the squirrels are restless. Mistrust is growing between the rich Gray Squirrels and the outcast Fox Squirrels. When a wily outsider gets in the mix, he ignites an epic animal kingdom soap opera teeming with rebel armies, conspiracy, love and family loyalties. No squirrel will go unharmed in this deliciously-demented new comedy from Tony Award nominee Robert Askins.

"We're going to bite and claw and scratch until today looks like yesterday.”

An interview in the local paper.

SAND LAKE — Director Patrick White envisioned a movable forest of trees to stage the Capital Region premiere of “The Squirrels,” a darkly satirical allegory about income inequality and political division. It takes a village of community theater enthusiasts to bring the director’s concept to life for the Harbinger Theatre production of Robert Askins’ play that opens June 21 at Sand Lake Center for the Arts. After failed prototypes with wire and foam insulation, artist Barb Berti settled on papier-mache as the ideal medium to create the gnarled bark of the tree set pieces.

Since White had asked for a dozen, 8-foot-tall trees that could be moved around the stage for different scenes, Berti needed a lot of newspapers. Not to mention untold hours of patient layering with gloppy strips of newsprint, flour and water.

“It was a big ask,” White conceded.

It was a labor of love for Berti and her tree-fabricating assistant, Bud Whitney, who work as unpaid volunteers.

“It’s all my fault. I got Barb into this,” said Whitney, 68, who lives down the road from Berti. He’s retired from installing automotive service equipment for Hunter Engineering. Whitney helps make sets at Sand Lake Center for the Arts with veteran set builders Bob Dawes and his wife, Sharon. Whitney and Dawes enlisted the craftiness of Berti.

“I’ve never made trees, but I like a good crafts challenge,” said Berti, 70, a retired registered nurse, who sews costumes for plays at Sand Lake Center for the Arts.

Making papier-mache trees struck a deep chord in Berti, who grew up in the Bronx. She has early memories of fashioning planets of the solar system out of papier-mache as a young girl. She made papier-mache crafts with Girl Scouts during two decades as a troop leader.

“My mom was a crafts queen and it runs in the family,” said Berti, whose daughter works as an arts therapist and granddaughter loves doing craft projects.

First, though, Berti needed the raw material. With an assist from Times Union alumni Julie Phillips and Mike Huber, White was connected with Dan Couto, vice president of operations and integrated services at the Times Union. [Mike Huber works with me at the New York State Writers Institute.]

Creating movable trees for “The Squirrels” intrigued Couto. “It was great to see our recycled papers used in such a creative way,” he said. “It’s cool to realize a community of people worked to make it happen.”

Couto dug around the paper’s recycling bins and came up with five bundles — about 200 newspapers — that he donated to bring the trees for “The Squirrels” to life.

Papier-mache is messy and Berti worked outside, pausing when it rained. Hot, sunny days were the best for shorter drying times. She built up the bark after letting each layer dry before adding more papier-mache.

“Neighbors out walking their dogs became very interested in the trees,” Berti said. After she was satisfied with the thickness and texture, she spray-painted the trees in brown tones to simulate gnarled bark.

There was more. White also asked Berti to craft large nuts for the characters — who will be dressed in squirrel costumes while they squawk and chatter in a series of squirrely noises — to store in the trees.

Berti gathered pine cones from her yard, plucked the scales one by one, and glued them to large plastic Easter eggs purchased at a craft supply store — before applying nut-colored spray paint.

She made peace with sticky sap from the pine cone scales.

“My fingers got stuck together like claws after awhile,” Berti said. She removed the sticky resin with Goo Off cleaner.

Berti provided the artistry, and the engineering came from Whitney, who cut 8-foot lengths of sonotubes — laminated cardboard tubes used to form concrete posts and columns. He sawed holes in the sonotubes to simulate squirrel nests to hold the nuts. He built wooden bases with casters so the trees could be wheeled around the stage.

White borrowed the casters from four local theater companies. “Community theater is collaborative,” White said. “It fits with the theme of ‘The Squirrels,’ which is a reminder that things go better when we work together instead of fighting each other.”

White, 70, of Albany, a veteran actor, director and acting teacher who co-founded Harbinger Theatre, reads dozens of scripts each year and was immediately hooked by “The Squirrels,” a dark comedy by Tony nominee Askins (“Hand to God.”).

“It just leaped off the page,” White said. “I couldn’t stop laughing. It’s very theatrical and speaks to our divided times, with a message that we need to unite to avoid civil war.”

White will have just three nights of tech rehearsals at Sand Lake Center for the Arts to block the fight scenes between warring squirrel factions and to block out the movement of the trees nine different times to create various scenes.

The cast includes six principal characters and six ensemble members, as well as a tech crew of 10. White’s partner, Chris Foster, is the producer.

“Barb and Bud did such an awesome job that my direction has to live up to how good the trees are,” White said.

I haven't been taking many photos recently, which is why I've been reposting some of my favorites. But that doesn't mean I haven't stayed busy. One of the things I've been doing is helping build sets for our local theater. Right now I'm making trees. Yes, the director wants them to be able to roll around*. No, they aren’t Ents.

* I've learned not to ask, "Why?"

[bukojuiice]

the wedding booth  — eren jaeger

ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x  fem! reader)

ೃ after being unwillingly dragged to plan and create a wedding booth for your first university festival, eren accompanies you to a bridal boutique. there, he contemplates about the future and all of the cheesy romantic stuff he wants to do with you.

ೃ genre and warnings: college au, lots and lots of fluff!

ೃ  my nav  →  my aot masterlist

ೃ 1k words

My Big Fat Greek Wedding, My Best Friend's Wedding, The Wedding Planner, Wedding Crashers... hell, even Mamma Mia.

If having to be forced to watch these romantic comedies about weddings doesn't give you the sudden urge to get hitched and run away to some tropical island, then you don't know what will.

For your very first uni fair at Shigashina University, your friends had proposed a Marriage booth. To be more specific, three of your friends did. Jean, Sasha, and Connie are the masterminds behind this stupid idea and it's all because of three things:

1. Jean is pining over Mikasa so so bad. So many years have passed and yet he still hasn't found a way to confess. And so, due to his pompous ass binge-watching stupid rom-coms recently, he thinks that if "fake dating" can bring two people together, then having a fake wedding with his unrequited crush of 12 years could finally make her fall for him too. He wants the booth to be as iconic as a wedding straight out of Las Vegas. Problem is, he's never been to Las Vegas, and his terribly unrealistic basis for wanting it to be as iconic as a "Las Vegas Wedding" is that one scene from The Hangover and that episode from Friends.

He was delusional and yet, he wanted to push through with this proposal no matter what. Nothing was going to stop him... not unless it was one of the three seniors whom you would be proposing this project to in the first place.

2. Sasha's goals are much normal. A bit odd, but still normal and not as desperate as Jean's. All she wants is to get Ymir, the captain of the school's soccer team to confess to Historia, the freshman Bio-Chemistry student who works part-time as a library assistant (and whom everyone secretly fawns over for. she's just that damn cute.) However, the real reason as to why she helped [rp[pse this stupid marriage booth to get them to finally confess to each other is anyone's guess.

3. Connie thinks he's gonna get clout from this. Rise up the university hierarchy perhaps? He's treating the entire festival like it's high school all over again. He prays that the marriage booth will become the hottest thing in the festival, then he'll instantly become that cool and bad-ass freshie whom everyone wants to be friends with. Either way, if the booth is going to be a success or not, you know for a fact he's never going to be a part of the "cool kids" (good lord, can you believe people still use that term in college?) and he's gonna be stuck with you and your other friends for the rest of the years to come.

It didn't take long before they finally finished their elaborate PowerPoint Presentation (despite Connie insisting that Powerpoint is boring) that they were going to pitch to three of the principal members of the student council. Namely, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, and Hange Zoe.

It was gonna be an automatic no for Levi, obviously. Nothing could ever get past that man. But if they can somehow convince Erwin and most especially Hange to get on board with their stupid scheme, then the booth was good to go.

Now, here you are, in a bridal boutique. Purchasing some simple wedding dresses that will serve as your rent-a-dress service for the Marriage booth.

It wasn't originally a part of the plan. Not at all.

However, Hange would only approve of the project IF the wedding booth was going to be made into something more elaborate and memorable. They didn't want something as simple as printing out fake marriage contracts, cheap tulle fabric wedding veils, fake plastic bouquets, and wedding pictures that came out of a polaroid camera.

Oh no no no. They wanted it to be extravagant. The cream of the crop. The absolute bomb. The best booth at the festival.

Hange saw potential in the idea and with an approved budget by the student council, you could make anyone's wedding dreams come true.

 Fast forward to a week before the event, you are currently on a shopping spree with Armin, Mikasa, and your boyfriend, Eren (because Sasha insisted he had the right proportions for the rental groom outfits. She totally did not ask him to come along so that he can see you try on wedding gowns.) to buy supplies, props, decorations, and everything else needed.

"(Y/N), we'll meet you and Eren at the bridal boutique, okay?" Armin proclaims, looking at the time on his wristwatch and struggling to balance the shopping bags on his other hand.  Mikasa notices how much he's been struggling and offers to hold the bags for him.

"Sure! Don't forget about the list that Jean sent!" You shout back, turning to Eren as his fingers interlace with yours, making your merry way to the boutique whilst Armin and Mikasa go off the other direction.

"Don't get too excited." You joke, nudging Eren on the arm. "I'll just be trying on these dresses for the booth."

There's a particular glimmer in Eren's emerald eyes, chuckling at your quip. "Sheesh. Did you really have to remind me? Of course I know that. Besides, we're too young to even think about marriage right now. What's important is that I'm spending the best years of my life with you."

"Eren Grisha Jaeger, it is too damn early for you to make me a blushing pile of mess with your flirty comebacks." You deadpan, the heat rising up your cheeks as you try to hide your embarrassment from him.

The both of you laugh it off, shuffling into the store. The chiming bells of the shop door echo around the area as you look in awe at the luxurious dresses occupying every available space. The wafting smell of a vanilla pinecone scent and the soft sound of a sewing machine doing its work. There was a homey and rustic feel to this boutique that made you feel like you were sent back in time.

From great flouncy pieces adorned in layers of lace that rolled like ocean waves to more humble designs, albeit of the finest cloth.

This plethora of finery- reminds you strongly of the many genteel ladies depicted in those books and historic romances you used to read and watch. Like that of Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility.

Having the opportunity to enter a boutique such as this was a dream.

"Welcome! May I help you find anything?" A seamstress appears from the register. She looks at you from head to toe, as if trying to guess your measurements.

"W-we're looking for wedding dresses. Anything within the 200 to 300 dollar range? We don't need anything extra fancy, though! We'll just be needing them-"

Her eyes shift from you to Eren like she's suddenly a love coach, sizing the two of you up. "Yes, yes, young love! How sweet!" She chirps, breathing out a dreamy sigh. "Of course! For couples on a tight budget, we have-"

"We're looking for wedding dresses that can be used as costumes! Not too short and not too long either. W-we're not getting married or anything." You dismiss the seamstress with a wave of your hand. "I'm sorry if you thought of it that way..."

Although her shoulders visibly drop, the saleswoman still manages to smile. "Oh! I would like to apologize for assuming anything too!"

"Actually, mam, we do have plans sometime in the future." Eren grins cheekily, pulling you close to him. "Not today, of course, but we'll make sure to drop by in a few years!"

The saleslady's eyes lit up at Eren's vow. "Over here are some of our best-selling pieces! Ones that will certainly attract the eye of any groom!" She beckons you over to some mannequins lined up in the middle of the store, your gaze is drawn to the myriad of dresses on display as you walk throughout the space.

You turn back to Eren, studying him closely as he walks a few paces behind you, you thoughtfully wonder if the dresses you would pick out would match his taste.

She leads you to the back of the store to show the other garments and dresses embroidered with simplicity and yet elegance. You then pick two gowns up from their respective racks, satisfied with your purchase and making a beeline to the register to pay. However, the seamstress stops you from your tracks.

"How about this one, dear?"

You turn your attention to her, doe-eyed and curious as to what she was going to show you next.

"It is indeed a wedding dress, although not what you had asked for, the handsome young man did say something about your marriage plans. Perhaps this might help you visualize it? Give you an idea for the future, hm?" She hums wistfully, drawing your attention to the mannequin she placed in front of you. "It would be a shame if you left the boutique without trying anything on."

"(Y/N)?" You hear Eren's husky voice call out for you from the front of the store, "Armin just texted me. They can't find a specific prop in the crafts store so we might have to wait a bit longer for them."

"Okay! We can spare more time in the boutique, anyways." You answer back,  before turning your attention to the seamstress once more.

"Alright. I think I'll try it on then."

"Trying it on" turned out to be more than you had imagined. You thought you could just slip inside the dress and show it off. But nope. You needed a few adjustments to dress, adornments in your hair, and had to wear a wedding veil.

It was almost as if you were actually preparing to be wed.

"Good sir, your lovely missus is ready!" Yup, even the words of the seamstress made you feel like you were living in the 17th century right now. Did she really have to use such fancy words?

"Please, watch your step." The seamstress takes your hand and leads you out of the dressing room and right towards—

Eren who had been waiting in the shop proper.

"Doesn't she look beautiful?" She giggles, glancing at Eren for a response. "Well, I'll leave the two of you here first and bring the dresses you've chosen to the cash register first." In a wink, she's gone and had disappeared into the back almost before the words left her mouth.

The unfamiliar yet elegant garb makes you feel shy and the fact that Eren was gaping at you did not help at all. He was absolutely entranced by your beauty.

You unconsciously lower your head, tucking a strand of hair beneath your ear, unable to bear the thought.

"God, you're not just beautiful. Y-you look breathtaking."

He says in a barely audible whisper, pulling you to him once more.

Placing his hands on your waist, Eren plants a soft, tender kiss on your chest, the low-cut dress affording it easily. In a heartbeat, you feel your cheeks grow hot.

"Heh. Guess I got you again." He grins wolfishly, still admiring your beauty and tracing circles on the back of your hand. "I-I don't deserve you... I really don't."

"If you didn't deserve me, would you be here right now?" You say jokingly, raising your eyebrow.

"I mean it." He buries his face on the hem of your dress, his voice is muffled and soothing. "I can't believe you chose to love me." He looks up at you, eyes practically welling up with tears. "God, I honestly can't believe I'm crying right now, but, yeah... I am. That's how much I love you and how much I want to marry you right now."

You giggle at the expression your boyfriend has shown before you, stroking his hair and burying your fingers into his long brunette locks. "I love you too. But... why so sudden? You already told the saleswoman that we'll be back in a few years. She'd be surprised to hear you change your mind so easily."

"Well, if that's the case, then I better tell Jean to have us first on the list of the wedding booth then. We worked our asses off for this, might as well be the first to be blessed with the luck of that stupid booth."

You giggle once more as he continues to hold you so close. You feel his breath and his heartbeat. Each exhale and pulse brings you to the realization that Eren is the one. The man you want to be with for the rest of your life. The man who will help you through all your faults and mistakes, your burdens and troubles, through all the ups and downs... he will be there.

Just as you will be for him.

Guess those stupid movies centered around weddings weren’t so bad after all

.taglist: @crapimahuman​

[lildevyl]

Tommy Innit's Secret Clinic Chapter 2: Nuke and Ender

Summary:  Tubbo and Ranboo make their Vigilante debut as Nuke and Ender on a grand scale.

AO3 Link Here

Idea for Tubbo and Ranboo's Vigilante debut inspire by Tommy's Ultra-Important Keychain by SeriouslyCalmitous

TW: Bank Robbery, Guns, Mild Gun Violence, Hostage Situation, Mild Explosions. (I think I got it all let me know if I missed any!)

To say Tubbo was excited would be an understatement!  Not only did all three of them (himself, Ranboo and Tommy) have off today and were planning some epic Mario Kart Tournament.  But Tubbo finally has the last piece of his costume!  A Reusable Respirator Mask that he was able to get from Attic Treasures, a second hand discount store in East Side.  Tubbo smiled at the mask. It did cost a bit but it was worth it!  It reminded him of the mask he wore when he went as the Warden that one Halloween.  Tommy did his best to try and scrunge up any material he could use to help make Tubbo his costume.

Speaking of which, Tommy should be coming home from the Craft Store with a bundle of materials that Tommy was going to help make Michael and his two friends their costumes and make something for Michael’s Birthday.  Tubbo's smile grew as he looked in the bag.  Michael was going to turn eleven here soon and start at East Middle come fall.  Tubbo managed to get the last copy the store had of the Heroes vs Villains video game that Michael was a huge fan of.  Tubbo rolled his eyes at the game, it was basically a game where you could easily create your own Villain or Hero and Create Storylines around it.  But it was for Michael so Tubbo had no problem in getting him one.

A shrill alert rang from Tubbo’s phone nearly had him jumping.  Fishing out his phone from his pocket, Tubbo saw the emergency alert and quickly clicked on it.

Emergency Alert:  Bank Robbery at Rutagbag Ville Bank with Hero Arachnid and  local Gang Members with Mercenary Covetous.  Hostages have been reported and confirmed.  Avoid the area at all costs.

Tubbo saw that there was a news van across the street and sure enough there were at least a dozen people taken hostage.  Employees and regular civilians all on the ground while Arachnid was engaged in a fight with Covetous.  The other robbers were quickly working on the Bank Vault while a couple of others were keeping the hostages from interfering.  From the looks of it, a few phones were smashed, probably trying to call the authorities for help.

Tubbo quickly ran into a nearby alleyway, and clicked on the first number he could think of.

“Tubbo?”

“Ranboo!  Did you see the alert?”

“Tubbo, you’re not thinking about doing what I think you’re thinking about doing are you?”

“Ranboo, Arachnid needs help!  Not only did the gang hire Covetous, but there are at least a dozen hostages!  We can help!”

“Alright, I'll be there soon to teleport you out.  Just be careful though!  Covetous can temporarily suppress any powers no matter what!”

“I will!”

“And Tubbo?”

“Yeha, Boo?”

“Good Luck!”

With that Tubbo ducked behind an old dumpster and dragged his Vigilante Costume out it’s time for their debut!

(Rutabag Ville Bank):

After putting on his Vigilante Costume and making sure his backpack and bags were securely hidden behind the dumpster.  Tubbo put on his voice changer that he found on EBay and switched it on.  Tubbo then pocketed his phone, earpiece still intact so he could hear the live news report.  Then Tubbo took off towards the Bank.

Huffing and puffing, Tubbo already felt the beads of sweat starting to spill down his neck and back.  He’s never going to make fun of Tommy for wearing that ridiculous hoody in the middle of summer ever again.  No wait, that’s a total lie - Tubbo will totally still make fun of Tommy for that!  The Newscaster, told everyone that Arachnid after being hit by Covetous’s Power Suppressor was holding his own against the Mercenary.  

Tubbo picked up his pace upon hearing that.  Covetous Power Suppressor may be temperamental.  But that doesn’t stop the other Robbers from taking advantage of it.  Tubbo ready his power upon seeing the Police Barricade.  Feeling the familiar heat in his hands - Tubbo launched a small yellow-orange ball of energy at the Barricade - exploding on impact with the metal barricade.  Dodging the Cop, Tubbo ran right to the front doors.

“Besides,” Tubbo heard Arachnid say.  “I’m not alone.”

Tubbo took that as his cue and burst through the front doors - launching a small explosive at Covetous.  Knocking him completely out.  The playing field just became a little more even now.  Tubbo could tell Arachnid wasn’t expecting a Vigilant - a new one at that - not looking a gifted horse in the mouth.  Arachnid took charge.

“Get the hostages out!  I’ll get the others!”

Tubbo nodded and turned to his right.  Three armed gunmen and at least a dozen people were held hostage.  Sprinting forwards, Tubbo knocked out the one on the far right that was the closest to him.  Grabbing the next guy’s gun that aimed at him, Tubbo used his powers to heat the gun up.  The guy screamed and dropped the gun that was burning his hands.  Tubbo then uppercutted the guy with the butt of the gun.  He then threw the gun to the ground and ready himself to take out the next guy with a small explosion.

Only to have the guy pointing a gun right at Tubbo’s head, seconds away from pulling the trigger.  But before the guy could do anything, purple particles filled everyone’s vision.  The particles disperse and to everyone’s shock, a new Vigilante was standing there.  Knocking the gun out of the guy’s hand and then knocking him out in two quick fluid moves.

Tubbo, then took charge.  Ushering everyone out of the building.  When all the hostages were out of the building.  Both Tubbo and Ranboo went to the three gunmen and tied them using the banks retracting barricade it uses for the line of the tellers.  And then zip-tied the Robbers hands together.

Arachnid came back with the other Robbers and their weapons all tied up in his webs.  Arachnid then saw the two new Vigilantes.  One that just saved him, he was shorter than Arachnid, with dirty blond close to light brown hair, a Painter’s Respirator Mask, a dark green trench coat with a Snowchester, Radioattive and the L’Manburg’s Flag Patches sewn on it.  Black pants and steel toe combat boots.  The other one was closer to Arachnid’s height.  Wearing a black shirt, a yin-yang tie, white suit jacket and pants, with dress shoes that were white with black toes and heels.  Wearing a half white-half black face mask, sunglasses and streaks of white in his black hair.

“Thanks for the assist, um?”

“Nuke,” the shorter one with the green trench coat said.

“Ender,” the taller one with the white suit said.  “Well, it’s been an honor, Arachnid.  Call us if you need us.”

And with that, the two disappear and a cloud of purple particles.

****

Characters:

Nuke - Tubbo

Ender - Ranboo

Covetous - Punz

Arachnid - Spyder (OC)

Tagging: @weirdmixofweirdness, @nightfuryobsessed, @isa-ghost, @septic-dr-schneep, @tracobuttons, @a-humble-narcissus, @ashedflower, @nastiiuu, @iamliteraltrash1, @bonesandthebees, @m4delin, @juju-on-that-yeet

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #14

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Santa Invasion

“What’s this?”

“Ice cream.”

“Well, I can tell that much just by looking, but...”

“To be precise, it is an ice cream cake.”

A gigantic ladybug was sitting on the low table. Its vivid red and dark brown-like black shades were definitely berries and chocolate. The back was decorated with flowers like marguerite. It was adorable. And huge. It was a hemispherical cake that looked like a basket ball cut in half, the name of a store from Dogenzaka printed on its box. It was 7PM. The last customer had left, I was done with the cleaning and all we had left to do was closing the store. It was still the second week of December, so the mayhem of making provisions for winter presents was a few ways ahead, but the number of clients was increasing little by little.

Just what on earth would this beautiful jeweler come up in such times?

Due to a habit of his from whenever he had something that was hard to say aloud and thus failed to speak up, Mr. Richard Ranashinghe de Vulpian had a serious crease forming just slightly between his brows. It made me feel at ease. This guy didn’t make a face like this when he was burdened with something that was actually difficult to say. He would speak more bland and expressionlessly instead.

“This is a little souvenir.”

“Are you going to a customer’s place after this?”

Richard’s reply was a gentle “no” in English.

He’d been often speaking a mix of Japanese and English lately. When English-speaking customers came by, he would switch completely to English as if for practical assessment, so I was desperate just to keep up with listening to them. I was grateful for having him as my English conversation teacher.

“A certain good-for-nothing who works with finances is currently in Japan, so...”

“Ah, Jeffrey-san, is it? He seemed so busy last time... Sorry, forget what I just said.”

“No need. That is a correct interpretation, so it is nothing to apologize about.”

Despite saying this, Richard’s facial expression did not seem even remotely satisfied as he swiftly took an indigo envelope out of his pocket. It had no seal, so it must have been handed over to him. The content was a pop-out card, and under a paper-craft cake colored with gold leaves and uneven printing, it was written in very tasteful Japanese: “I’m going to hold a party at the hotel, so come over. I’ll be waiting.” The date of the party was today and the place was the room of a luxury hotel in Tokyo. A home party? No, a hotel party.

The title was “Richard’s birthday party”. The plate of the pop-up cake didn’t say “Merry Christmas”. It said “Happy Birthday”.

Christmas Eve on the 24th was this beautiful shopkeeper’s birthday.

As I returned the card to him, a crease once again formed between Richard’s brows as he said with an unsparingly decisive tone, “How very embarrassing.”

“Doesn’t seem so much like it from your face.”

“Because I practiced making it. But this is extremely embarrassing. I think it is not something that warrants going through the trouble of arranging a plane ticket.”

“I wonder if anyone else will be going.”

“It seems Chieko will attend. I received an e-mail yesterday saying, ‘I am going to show up as a surprise so please take care of me’.”

“Is that even a surprise? Well, okay.”

Chieko-san was Richard and Jeffrey’s private tutor in the past and I was acquainted with her to some degree. I wondered if Homura-san, who had married her daughter, was also coming. No, not happening. He was a customer of Etranger, so Richard would probably feel abashed if he did so.

“If it goes on like this, the people lying in wait in that room will just gang up into an assembly to celebrate me.”

“What even is ‘ganging up to celebrate’?”

“They are ganging up on me. I likely will not be able to say anything other than ‘thank you very much’. I need reinforcements. If you would like, could you come with me?”

“Me too? That okay?”

“Of course. The party starts at 8PM probably because it coincides with Etranger’s closing hours. That British safe-like man is not narrow-minded enough to leave you out.”

It was written there that the party would begin at 8PM. We had 30 minutes. There was no spare time to make a pudding. What to do? What should I do?

Richard was apparently unable to let my groaning an “ngh, ngh” while deep in thought go unnoticed. “If it is impossible for you, just say so right away. I know that you are at the final stage of studying for your exams.”

“That doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me a bit earlier about this? If I knew, I could’ve made preparations for it... Aah, is that why?”

“It is. I recall saying that you should refrain from being overly distracted.”

“I don’t think a ‘celebration’ is ‘overly distracting’, though.”

“Anything is fine, so please answer. Will you come or not?”

He didn’t have to go as far as asking me something like that.

I bowed in a way that wouldn’t cause any hairs to fall onto the ice cream ladybug. “I shall humbly accompany you.”

“Very well.”

“Sorry, but before that, I gotta go to the toilet for a bit.”

I hastily rushed to Etranger’s restroom and unlocked my phone in a flash. I then tapped on the e-mail app. Of course, the destination could only be one person.

“Help. I’m sorry but I just got informed about the birthday party, so I have no present.”

Jeffrey-san.

The contents of the message were not at all on a level that someone should send to the person they owed their life to, but he would understand.

The reply came in a matter of seconds. As expected, he worked fast.

“Good evening. I have everything, so there’s no problem if you come empty-handed. There will be champagne, canapés, chicken pie and cake, and I plan to have chocolate fondue coming up at the end.”

There was a proud smiley emoji at the end of the text. It seemed this was going to be a big deal.

Richard would probably have work tomorrow, and he wasn’t the type to get wasted or stuff his face with sweets in the middle of the night. It seemed I also wouldn’t have to worry about dinner. It made me feel sorry. This was the same old pattern. This course of eating and seeing good stuff amidst the confusion of the moment made my stomach hurt when I thought better about it.

“Don’t you know anything that Richard wanted?”

The response came after a moment, “My bad, but nothing comes to mind. How about you give him what you want most?”

What I wanted most. I could only think of refill shampoo and new socks. I’d be ashamed of giving things like that to Richard. After all, this was a mixture of birthday and Christmas party—

Just as I was thinking this, a genius inspiration sprouted in my head. It wasn’t the best solution. Not at all. But I felt it could work. This was too obvious, but if only I had the necessary materials for it, I could do it immediately.

Making up my mind, I came out of the restroom, apologized for making Richard wait, and as we rode to the designated address on the jaguar, I had him stop the car in front of a mass retailer for a moment. I told him I wanted to buy refill shampoo for my home. Richard was exasperated, but didn’t have any suspicions in particular.

We arrived at the hotel, got into the elevator, and on the way to the party venue, I made sure to walk a bit behind Richard. Staying out of his sight was essential.

When he opened the door to the suite, sure enough, Jeffrey-san and Chieko-san were waiting inside. Giving off a relaxed atmosphere, a room-service feast even bigger than what I had imagined from the phone call was waiting on the table for the main guest.

“Happy birthday, Richard. Chieko’s here too. Surprised?”

“Of course. Very surprised. Extremely.”

“Hmm, by the looks of it, I guess there was some information leak. Well, that’s okay! Where’s Nakata-kun?”

“What do you mean ‘where’? He’s right here. Seigi... Seigi?”

My eyes locked with Richard’s. I had locked them with Jeffrey-san’s before that. I was grateful that he had done me the favor of not laughing.

I politely shook my head at my boss, who was making a flabbergasted face. “My name is Santa.”

What I had bought at the mass retailer was a handy Santa makeover set. The three-piece set consisted of a hat, a put-on beard and a Santa costume, but I hadn’t had time to change into the costume, so it was folded up in my bag. I intended to borrow the suite’s bathroom to put on the costume. If I at least had my face ready, I could somehow make it work.

Richard was dumbfounded. It was the obvious reaction. But I wanted him to forgive me for this. After all, it was December and today was a party day.

“I’m Santa Claus! I came from the North Pole. Please take care of me for today!” After introducing myself, I thought that maybe this wasn’t an exemplary self-introduction for Santa, but it was already too late.

Jeffrey-san, who completely livened up the mood whenever he got excited, went along with the joke, saying, “Wah, Santa-san, thank you for coming from such a faraway place!”

I was grateful for that one. And that was how I got away with playing the role of a worldwide mascot-like old man character from the Arctic for the day. The ice cream cake brought by the star of the party was a success, and we had a toast with both champagne and royal milk tea. Chieko-san was wearing a kimono, the remade peridot brooch on her chest.

   It had already been more than half a year since then, but to my body, it felt like even longer ago.

My location had moved from Japan to Sri Lanka, as one would expect, and I was busy fully enjoying a spring in which white temple flowers were blooming in Kandy, my new home. But for some reason, Santa was here. A beautiful blond, blue-eyed man slipped in and out of sight, but his outward appearance was that of Santa Claus. It was the kind of Santa costume that you could buy at the costume section of any mass retailer. One of the sad things about unmatched beauty was the fact nobody could actually claim that his natural beauty was ruined by the look. The brilliance of his blue eyes, which looked like they could suck you in, was the same as ever.

“I am Santa Claus. I came from the North Pole.”

“But now’s a hot time of the year.”

“Santa Claus is a symbol of summer in the Southern Hemisphere. I do not think it is particularly strange.”

“T-That might be true. Well, then... what’re you doing?”

“Santa does what Santa does. The tradition of Santa Claus, much like the language of jewels, has a wide variety of legends to it depending on the region, but either way, the role of a saint who grants blessings to little children, women and those in need is a guise commonly demanded in society. And for you, here it is.” Saying this, “Santa” offered me a plastic, loose stone display case that I was all too familiar with. There was a red stone stuck between the cushion and transparent lid. “Can you identify this gemstone?”

“Tourmaline, I guess. Red tourmaline.”

“Good for you. Did you know that it has one more name?”

“Rubellite.”

“Perfect. Large, pinkish-red tourmalines are called by that name, and it is a stone of which huge carved crystals have been loved as works of art, such as the amulet of Empress Dowager Cixi and the Romanov royal treasure, the ‘Strawberry Pendant’.”

As I peeked at the stone inside the case, humming that it was pretty, the beautiful jeweler cleared his throat and started over.

“Just as people’s feelings dwell within beautiful stones, this one is filled with the feeling of celebrating the start of your new life, from your family back in Japan, your friends and your superior at work, with whom you have a relationship other than the aforementioned and that neither of us knows how to define. Santa is wholly thankful for being in the position to bestow you with such a gift. I forgot to say it, but happy birthday. Nakata Seigi-san. I sincerely pray, all the way from my home in the Arctic, that this year will be a fruitful one for you.”

“Thank you. Seriously, thank you for always, Richa...”

“Santa. I am a passing Santa.”

“Then let’s go with that. By the way, if you’re Santa, where are the reindeers?”

When asked this, the man in disguise answered with a cool gaze that the reindeers were using stealth technology nowadays so that they wouldn’t be found by radars, hence they couldn’t be seen. He had it down to the details.

“It’s been about ten years since the last time Santa-san came around. I’ll take good care of this. Santa-san, you take care of your body too. I’ll ask my boss next time I see him about the person who gave you this stone.”

“You should. Well, then.” With a bow, Santa left for a car parked in the courtyard. I probably wasn’t supposed to see him off. I’d feel bad for the stealth reindeers.

The red stone stayed in my hand.

I had told a white lie. It hadn’t been ten years since Santa had last showed up. This was the first time ever since I was born. In my home, there was always someone playing the role of “Santa”, such as Hiromi, Grandma and Nakata-san, so they never tried to tell me nice lies. Nakata-san probably just followed Hiromi’s way of doing things, though. The fact I thought up something like that last December, when Jeffrey asked me what I “wanted most”, might not have been unrelated to this. At any rate, to me, not even once was there any supernatural existence who would leave toys by my bedside if I were a good kid. Until this day.

After a while of standing by the garden, where it was always summer, and listening closely to the cries of birds with my eyes closed, I unlocked my phone. The Wi-Fi range of the house seemed good, and so I could send e-mails immediately. The contents were simple. The destination was my boss, Richard.

“Santa came to my place. But he left so quick that I couldn’t make him tea.”

The reply soon came: “Are you half-asleep?”

If he really thought that I was half-asleep, then maybe I should delay the reply for a few more minutes, I thought, but I didn’t write anything further. The house’s cleaning was half-assed and I had to check the security. I also wanted to know as many of my neighbors as could.

Together with the feeling that I had suddenly been given something I had forgotten, and that I didn’t even know I had forgotten, I put rubellite in the jewelry safe and stepped out into the Sri Lankan provincial city. I had nothing to fear and no hesitation. The ill feeling that I’d be living here alone had disappeared. After all, Santa had come by. Far from elementary school, I was now an adult who had already graduated from university, and it currently wasn’t December but May, where the only anniversary I could think of was my own birthday, yet Santa had come by. Such an impossible thing had happened.

So I could do my best, I thought.

And so, I could be getting ahead of myself, but I began thinking about my plans for this December. Would there be a second chance for Santa to appear? If not, I wanted to make one. I decided to fuss over the outfit a little more and prepare proper gifts this time. Then I’d tell him stories about jewels and try to make him laugh a lot. That, too, was Santa’s duty.

[whoareyoueventhough]

she's doneeeee

here's the rest of the process ^_^

so I took some cardboard and cut it to fit the way I wanted in the jaws, and then put a glob of hot glue and some foam as like. Holding-in-place thingies?

Then I put in two foam rings for structure. She was feeling a bit wiggly. And I traced my fingers and thumb on the two halves. Remember to wear a glove during this part so your fingers are thicker!

Then apoxy happened! It was my first time using 2-part apoxy glue but it was really effective! Recommended for sure!

Next, I glued on some craft foam with glue sticks and mod podge, and painted them white then pink on both halves.

Hot glued around the edges! Then I cut a hole in the back for my hand to go through. It doesn't have to be big, just enough for your fingers in the glove. I put a plastic glove under the fabric one, then put hot glue on my fingers and stuck em in the hole. This was unwise, bc I burned my hand. However it was very effective. So pick your battles ig. Anyway I did that with both sides and then took off the glove. At this point, your two halves should be connected by the glove, one half getting the four fingers and the other getting the thumb. I ended up stuffing some bubble wrap strips in the holes as well, for structure. Idk. It was like 1AM. But it worked.

I took some plastic vines from the dollar store, bent them, and dipped them in hot water to hold their shape before hot gluing them to my plant pot. I also cut a hole in the pot big enough that it could sit on my elbow like a fancy purse. I don't have a picture for that but it should be like

Wow a diagram so nice

anyway I put foamcore on the edges so it wouldn't hurt my arm. Ok on to the next piece

I cut the sleeves of a green shirt I found at the thrift store, and sewed them together to make a megasleeve. That is what I called it throughout the entire project. Then I cut a hole in the button up I got for my arm to go through. Here is the process of putting it on:

STEP ZERO: glasses and pants and socks and shoes and whatever else you want. Also breakfast. Anything you need arms for.

STEP ONE: an undershirt. You need one trust me. I just wore a plain white t-shirt.

STEP TWO: button-up with a hole in it. Stick your arm through the hole. Ask a friend to help button it up bc your arm is in a hole

STEP THREE: plant pot. Fun fact after wearing this costume for a day I ended having phantom plant pot. It sits on your elbow.

STEP FOUR: megasleeve. Try to hook it through the hole in the pot.

STEP FOUR AND A HALF: cherish your wrist for a second

STEP FIVE: put on the glove, move your puppet around, and rejoice in the fact that you will win a costume contest today.

SUPPLIES LIST:

Balloon

paper mache stuff

white glue

water

plastic plant pot

fake plant stuff

acrylic paint (green, dark green, yellow, neon pink, red, white, black)

green long-sleeved shirt

seymour-ish button up

glove

plastic gloves

glue sticks

mod podge/sealant

craft foam

bubble wrap

foam rings (??)

cardboard

hot glue

really strong wrist

makin it believable: hold the pot with your free hand when possible, don't just open-close the mouth try to CHOMP with it, tilt back and forth to show emotion

unexpected drawbacks: the clay on her lips did not survive the day. I'd skip that if I did it again. Also she does not like a full day of use, she is a smaller con puppet!

did I win the costume contest: hell yeah I did

also everyone wants to pet it so you can let them if you want

uhhhh if you have any questions send them my way! Even if this post is 3 years old by then I will try my best to help ^_^

Tag me if you follow this tutorial! Thanks for reading!

AUDREY II PROCESS

hi it's like. 2 weeks before Halloween. Let's see if I pull this off!!

by the end of this process, I hope you can make one too!! (If it turns out ok ;^_^)

I've actually been working on her for a month but literally all of that was paper mache (and several weeks wasted on a failed attempt T-T rip)

anyway here's my egg!!

It's like a million layers of paper on a balloon. I popped the balloon and put paper over the hole. Cool now you're caught up :]

TONIGHTS PROGRESS!! SHE HAS BEEN CHOPPED IN HALF :D I used an X-ACTO knife and a box cutter for different parts, bc the box cutter was better cutting through the glue and the X-ACTO worked for the curved parts

I drew the line so the top half would be a little bigger than the bottom half, referencing pics from the movie

then, I put on some spines with air-dry clay! I mark everything I do in sharpie beforehand (as you can see in above picture), and if you are making an Audrey II PLEASE use a ruler bc I had to redo my eyeballed marks like 3 times lol

I also added clay lips to smooth out the rough edge, and was very careful to keep them turned out and up so the two half's would fit together.

TOMORROWS GOALS: paint top half, add clay to bottom half, maybe paint that half too if I have time we'll see!

if you have any tips and advice, please share! ^_^ this is my first time making a puppet and I do have a plan, but I'd love to know how you did it! It's probably smarter lol I have no tutorial

Will update!! <3

[simplybakugou]

Sweet Like Strawberries

↝ Wanting to make something to cheer your hero girlfriend up, you decide to bake something that’s just as sweet as her.

BINGO SPACE: Baking at Home

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!uraraka x reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: fluff; bakery!au for the reader :) ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1567

A/N: shouldn’t be a surprise anymore but this is another bingo piece for the bingo event by @bnhabookclub​ lol. i loved writing for uraraka and this was just so cute. thank you to @happygalaxymilkshake​ for requesting uraraka for this prompt! credits to @bnhcs​ for the beautiful colored uraraka cap in the banner!

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 08.08.2020✐

Uraraka’s feet felt heavier than they ever did that day as she had to practically drag her feet inside her apartment complex. To make her day worse than it already had been, the elevators were shut down for maintenance and she wanted to burst into tears at the mere thought of having to walk up seven flights of stairs just to get to her apartment. 

The security guard at the front gave her a sympathetic smile, raising a single fist as she was silently cheering the hero on. Uraraka just gave her a lazy smile as she proceeded towards her long and gruelling journey up. 

Although the experience was the worst, obviously since no one wants to walk up so many stairs at once, Uraraka had two reasons to want to push forward instead of simply collapsing at the lobby and taking a small nap there: she wanted to sleep in the comfort of her own home and she was looking forward to seeing you, her lovely significant other.

Finally she made it to the seventh floor, her body even more exhausted than it already had been from a long day of patrolling and keeping evildoers in check for their actions. Uraraka was a sweaty mess by the time she made it to her apartment, missing the lock with her key a few times before successfully unlocking her front door.

You turned your head from your spot in front of the TV in the living room, initially afraid that someone had broken in as you weren’t accustomed to seeing your girlfriend home so early but then you smiled widely as Uraraka leaned against the door. “You’re home!”

“Mhm,” Uraraka hummed, trudging over towards you. She tossed her briefcase with her hero costume to the side, slipping her shoes right beside it as she plopped onto the couch with you. You laughed as she nuzzled her face into your lap, resting her head on you. “I’m so tired.”

“Long day?” You asked and Uraraka nodded. “Did they let you go early?”

“No, I asked Tsuyu if she could cover my last patrol shift. They made me come in at five in the morning today and I don’t think I would’ve made it through the night if I stayed,” Uraraka complained.

“You work so hard, Ochako, I’m glad that you’re getting a little break now,” you said, rubbing your girlfriend’s back. “I’ll go cook something up for you! What’re you in the mood for?”

Uraraka whipped her head up, her expression softening at the sound of eating some of your top tier cooking. “Really? You’ll make something for me?”

You chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Of course, silly! It’s the least I can do.”

“Y/N!” Uraraka exclaimed, leaning forward and hugging you tightly. She pulled away momentarily. “I’m in a sweet mood. Your baking is so good!”

“Alright. Give me an hour. You sit here and get some rest, I’ll be in the kitchen,” you said, standing up and walking towards the kitchen.

Uraraka watched as you walked away, falling back on the couch with a smile on her face. She grabbed the TV remote, switching through the various channels aimlessly, catching up with the many shows she was never able to finish due to her demanding job.

You quickly grabbed your ingredients from the pantry and the fridge, already having the perfect recipe in mind. 

Although you were dating one of the top heroes in the country, you had absolutely no interest in pursuing heroism yourself. You owned a small bakery by your apartment on the corner of the intersection as you grew up baking with your parents which inspired you to own your own store. In fact, it was because of your bakery that you met Uraraka.

One day Uraraka had decided to stop by the new, at the time, bakery by her agency and ended up meeting you. She grew attracted to the beautiful person behind the counter and behind the delicious pastries and soon enough she found herself visiting the shop often just to see your face.

Once you had gotten closer to Uraraka due to her frequent visits, you decided to ask her out, as she was extremely nervous whenever she was around you to ask you out herself. Since then you had been dating for a few years and you eventually moved in together. 

You were busy once you began whisking away at the ingredients and beating them together. You decided to make a strawberry cake as you couldn’t recall the last time you made a cake, outside of work at least. On top of that, you wanted to make something special for your girlfriend and something easy, at least for you since you were experienced. In no time you managed to whip up the cake batter, pouring it into a cake pan and sliding it into the oven. 

Uraraka was still lying on the couch, dozing off momentarily before jolting awake due to the uncomfortable position she was in, especially since sleeping on a couch is not pleasant. She decided to stand up at the sound of you working hard in the kitchen for her, stretching as she walked over to you.

“What’re you making?” Uraraka asked, peeking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of what you were doing.

“A cake,” you said simply, adding more sugar into your icing. You glanced over at Uraraka, noticing that she looked like she wanted to help out. “Come here.”

You set the spatula down, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards you. You stood behind her, pushing the bowl in front of her. “Do you wanna help?”

Uraraka nodded eagerly and you chuckled. “Just fold the sugar in, I wanted to make it a little sweeter for you.”

“Okay,” Uraraka said, following your instructions. You watched her, leaning on the counter as she worked. Although you enjoyed watching as she assisted you, you couldn’t help but want to be more involved with the task at hand.

You took a step forward, wrapping your arms around Uraraka’s waist. She stiffened under your touch, her pink cheeks burning into a more intense rosy color. Your hands slid atop of her own as you worked with her and mixed the icing together. 

“Looks ready to me,” you said, pulling away from her.

“R-Right,” Uraraka said with a stutter.

You simply laughed, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Even after all this time we’ve been together, you still blush when I’m around you.”

Uraraka giggled sheepishly. “I can’t help it! You just make me so nervous sometimes.”

You smiled at her words, taking the bowl from her and letting it cool in the fridge. “Can’t believe I can make a top hero nervous.”

“Well it’s not like you’re a villain that I need to stop or something,” Uraraka said, pulling herself up as she sat on top of the counter. 

You approached her, placing your hands on either side of her body as you closed the gap between your bodies and leaned forward, causing Uraraka to blush even more but still feel anticipated by your straightforward and bold actions. “You’re so damn cute, you know that?”

Uraraka smiled as you kissed her softly, pulling away at the sound of the oven ringing to announce that your cake was finished baking. You grabbed your oven mitts and took the cake out, letting it cool on the counter first before placing it onto a plate and letting it cool in the fridge. On the way you grabbed the icing mixture and some strawberries, washing the fruits and scraping the icing from the bowl into a piping bag. 

Uraraka watched in amazement as you moved swiftly around the kitchen. She loved watching you bake, enjoying how concentrated you would be when making something and how elegantly you moved when working on your craft.

Under any other circumstance you would want Uraraka to ice the cake with you but you knew how tired she must have been and decided to quickly ice little rosettes on the top of the cake and piping swirls at the borders of the cake. Finally you garnished the cake with the strawberries, wiping your forehead as you looked down at your masterpiece with satisfaction.

“It’s ready!” You said, calling out to Uraraka who had gone back to lie down.

She immediately sprung up, her mouth watering as she ran over to you, gasping at the sight of the beautifully decorated cake. “It looks amazing, Y/N!”

You grabbed a knife, cutting into the delectable looking dessert and cut out a big slice for your girlfriend. You placed it onto a plate, handing it to her with a fork and watching intently for her reaction, despite the countless amount of pastries and desserts she had taste tested for you.

Uraraka swallowed the bite she had ingested, a wide grin on her face. “It’s so good! It’s so sweet, too!”

You smiled slightly, content with the fact that Uraraka enjoyed it. “It’s all for you. I know how much you love cake so I thought I’d make something sweet just for you.”

Uraraka set her plate down onto the counter, wrapping her arms up around your neck as she hugged you. “Thank you, Y/N. I know I can count on you to make me feel better when things are tough.”

“Of course, that’s why I’m here, Ochako.”

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[haylanmakesstuff]

Day 12, 13, 14 of my 21 day Skeksis Costume Build

DAY 12: OCTOBER 21th

Just ten days to go until Halloween! Today I took some time off to go to my best friend’s house to make Wizarding World Wands for our annual Hogwarts Feast. I will post these later! For Skekso,  I didn’t do much today but work on the framed backpack and take some silly pictures.  

1.)    This is the updated frame all sealed together, PVC pipe and PVC glue. You can also see the end caps have little metal loops on them where the arms will attach. Husband and I did this part together, and I would recommend a buddy for any part of a project that needs PVC glue and math.

2.)    “Paint me like one of your Thra Gelflings!”

DAY 13: OCTOBER 22th

               It’s a busy one to make up for having fun yesterday: Bulking out the body and frame, beginning to add clothes to the body, and adding cloth and jewelry to the hands.

1.)    I wanted to add something soft around the frame where my head would eventually go, just to minimize annoyance and bonking sounds from my helmet. This also is handy so I will have something to sew cloth and glue to. I used PVC insulation foam from the hardware store, both hot glued and zip tied on. I needed it to STAY pur and carry weight.

You can see I also added a roll of bubble wrap to the back for a lightweight way to bulk out the hump back to give the Skeksis their signature vulture look.

2.)    Then I started to add fabric to make up what is the torso of the costume. For future understanding, there are 4 parts to this costume that come apart: the head, the arms, the upper torso, and the skirt. These photos are all as I add different fabrics, all from thrift stores, to the torso part. To find cheaply priced but originally expensive fancy looking pieces I actually went to the tablecloth/curtain section of thrift stores and found eerily exactly what I was looking for. The most expensive piece was maybe $4? Great deal.

3.)    Next, time to add cloth to the hands. I never found red velvet at a thrift store, so I ended up finding it in a discount bin at Joanne’s Fabrics – yay! It and the gold lame you’ll see in a bit are the only 2 fabrics I knew I had to have and wasn’t willing to compromise on. I am just cutting and gluing it to the hands to make the red velvet gloves he wears.

That’s Lady Gaga’s performance at Coachella on the TV. There are a few things I love re-watching while I do serious crafting; like Christine McConnell’s Netflix or Youtube shows, Bucky O’Hare, Jem and The Holograms, and any Lady Gaga concert or special. These things will always interest me and inspire me and are fun to watch. I really love Gaga’s special with The Muppets, and her gritty and perfectly gross show at South By Southwest.

4.)    After I finished my velvet base and tidied it up, I started adding jewelry. I got this at Goodwill and distressed it on an earlier day, but I knew they were a little heavy so I was very careful about attaching them both with hot glue and tying them around each finger, and gluing again so they wouldn’t fall off during use.

 DAY 14: OCTOBER 23rd

               Hand Armor, Collar spikes, beetle broche, and starting the ruffled shirt.

1.)    Starting today with more hands. Like the face, the hands will be a focal point because they will be on fully movable arms so people will pay attention to them. They’ve gotta look good! I carved and sculpted some armor that will go on the back of the hand once it is dry and painted. Here it is while drying. 

2.)    I decided I wanted some more jewelry on the fingers but without the weight, so I used fun foam, various beads, hot glue, and plumber’s tape to create some different looking lightweight pieces to add to the hands. 

Here they are being made, and a few further along in the background. Below, the hand is mostly done, with the new jewelry added to the distressed rings from Goodwill.

You’ve maybe seen the painting hanging on my wall in some photos, as well as the princess pastel work behind he hand here. These are both by the fabulous and fantastical artist named Ashton Guy. Please check out her beautiful work! 

3.)    Around Skekso’s collar are different types of spikes. I’ve already completed and set aside the large spiked ornaments that go on the back and around the sides, so now I’ve got to make a bunch of small, medium, and large spikes to go around the front of the collar. These were just Crayola Model Magic made into the right shapes, left to dry. Then covered in plumber’s tape, carved into a little with sculpting tools to create a texture, then painted black and wiped off for a hammered metal look (just like the neck ornaments finished earlier).

4.)    Next, finishing the beetle Broche. This was a lot of different materials; a base of craft foam, different pieces of Crayola Model Magic (left to dry a few days after forming), then Plumber’s Aluminum tape, jewelry wire, various sized beads, then painted and distressed.

For the paint on the pretty beetle wings I did regular cheapo acrylic, then covered it in a glitter glue paint, then clear coated for protection.

5.)    The last thing I worked on today was starting the black ruffle shirt front I mentioned earlier. This will look like fancy Skeksis clothing, but will secretly serve as a place for me to see out of the costume so I don’t ruin it and my face (I mean, it’s a great human face, but would look real strange popping out of a Skeksis chest). I used black chiffon, from a discount bin at Joann’s.  Speaking of Joanne, that’s another motivational Gaga concert on the TV. I see a theme here.

 That’s all for today! Come back for more posts about my journey through the very Bog of Eternal Stench to build this Skeksis costume in 21 days. Happy Halloween All Year!

[sophisticated-creepy]

Love is Stranger than Fiction by: Melissa Sain

         Lola threw her mass of fiery locks into a messy bun on top of her head. She was finishing fastening the last few buttons of her denim smock paired with her brightly floral frock as she entered the sales floor, her manager there waiting at the checkout counter, ready to greet her.

         “Perfect timing,” she began. “I just got off the phone with my son’s school. Tommy has the flu and I need to go pick him up. Are you okay if I leave you to watch the store by yourself? My husband can’t get away from a business meeting so I have to be the one to get him.”

         “Of course! Go take care of your family,” Lola agreed. She wasn’t afraid to run the business by herself. At most, there had only been three people in the store at once, and the customers were usually amiable. Lola’s manager Stacy was owner and founder of the boutique of finely crafted perfumes and other delicate assortments, wittily naming the store Lotions and Potions. She needed an extra hand once she expanded the product line and happily took Lola on as part-time manager. Now, Stacy could work during school hours and be home in time with her kids and husband in the evenings. The boutique closed at six, so Lola wasn’t robbed of her evenings either.

         “Thank you so much! You have no idea how much that helps me,” Stacy exclaimed. “It’s been a super slow day. There’s only one lady here, and she’s just looking,” she informed, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day. Call if you need me, okay?”

         “Go!” Lola laughed, shooing her manager out the door. “I’ve got this.”

         “I owe you,” Stacy called back as the door shut behind her. Lola chuckled as she watched her manager scurry to her car and drive away. Turning from the large storefront windows, she set her focus to the customer, a little old lady who was squinting at a shelf of body lotions.

         “Hello, there,” Lola greeted in her slightly higher pitched sing-song voice she saved specifically for retail as she made her way to the lady. “My name is Lola. What can I help you find today?”

         “Do you have any coupons for me?” the old lady demanded with a biting grumble reminiscent of crunchy gravel.

         “Uh…no, I’m sorry, our store doesn’t offer coupons,” Lola responded, taken aback by the customer’s lack of social graces.

         “I’m just looking,” and she shuffled off to squint at a different cabinet. Lola let her be and slowly walked away.

         And to think, I gave up a day of writing for this, she thought to herself. She walked to the back of the store near the register, where resting on a back counter was a record player used to serve as the ambient music for the shoppers. Lola selected a vinyl of a local band and placed it on the turntable. One of the perks of working by herself was that she could pick the music for the day. Normally she played something folksy, or occasionally she would get a wild hair and play Schubert’s piano concertos. For now, she selected music that best fit her mood, and today, she picked something chipper to go along with the spring in her step. As she was lighting a candle reminiscent of lemongrass and cedar wood, she heard the jingle bell lilt of the front door opening, the chimes above the doorframe signaling the arrival of customers.

         “What up, weirdo?” greeted the new voice. Lola smiled at hearing her best friend.

         “Hey, Modesta,” Lola greeted.

         “I come bearing gifts,” Modesta sang as she made her way to the counter. Her chocolate colored hair bounced off her shoulders as she sashayed across the boutique. In her hands were two large cups of coffee.

         “Hand it over!” Lola begged lightheartedly, reaching for the beverage. “Thank you.”

         “I see business is booming, as usual,” Modesta joked, looking around the near empty store. “How do you manage these crowds all by yourself?”

         “It’s a challenge,” Lola replied, matching her friend’s sarcasm. “Seriously, though, thank you for this,” she added, raising the to-go cup slightly to indicate the refreshment.

         “Any time. So, do you have anything for me to read today?” Modesta asked, jumping straight to the point. She smirked mischievously, not hiding her intentions in the slightest, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

         “Not today I’m afraid. Sorry,” Lola apologized. Modesta was the only person with whom Lola allowed to read her stories. Lola wrote with her soul, and trusted few with her words, however, the pair had grown up together, best friends since the sixth grade, more like sisters, if truth were told. Modesta had seen Lola through heartbreak time and time again. She understood that these short little one-offs were a way for Lola to heal and process life’s challenges while at the same time growing her craft as a writer. It was an honor watching her friend develop as a wordsmith, and now that she had hit her stride, Modesta was completely addicted to the wonderfully charming exploits of this make believe marriage. Lola used these free-writes as a way to verbalize her desires in a relationship. One infamous ex in particular, Chad, had clearly shown her what she didn’t want in a lover: an inattentive, complacent, shallow, self-centered coward, and instead, used her imagination to create her heart’s yearnings for a perfected-partnered match, regardless of his fictional status: passionate, intelligent, witty, and a smile with just a touch of magic.

         “What’s this next story about? Is it a dueling sword fight? A pirate adventure? Oh! Are you writing a sequel to the picnic at midnight? I absolutely loved that one.”

         Lola laughed. “No, nothing like that,” she said. “At the moment I’m trying to figure out how to get my imaginary husband’s dick inside of me.” The little old lady was near the counter where the two were talking, and gave Lola one of the fiercest squints she had ever received before going back to glare at a cabinet of bubble baths. Both Lola and Modesta had the most difficult time stifling their giggles.

         “Girl, you know I love you, but maybe it’s time you found the real thing.”

         “You know I’m not ready,” Lola reminded. “Ever since Chad---.”

         “Ever since Chad, nothing, honey. I’ve read your writings, remember? You’re ready,” Modesta stated. Lola rolled her eyes, sighing exasperatedly. That oh-so infamous Chad was Lola’s first. Her first everything. Her first date, her first real kiss, her first lover. They were high school sweethearts, together even in their early college years, and like all young newly dating couples, they thought their love was strong enough to weather any storm. They believed no matter what obstacle was thrown at them, they could face it together in triumph. Love was on their side, after all, and nothing could stand in their way of happiness. That is, nothing could stand in their way of happiness except a blonde, rail thin, five foot ten Tinder goddess who just so happened to be three miles away from his location.

         “It’s been over a year,” Modesta stressed. “I just want to see you happy.”

         “I am,” Loa defended.

         “I’ll believe it when I actually see you hitting the dating scene once in a while,” Modesta retorted playfully. “It helps if you go outside every now and again too, you know.”

         “Rude. It’s not like I’m some basement troll who never sees the light of day. I go outside plenty, thank you very much.”

         “All I’m hearing are excuses, Lola. Cut the crap and go on a date for Christ’s sake, please. Jack and I want to double.”

         “Well, I am so sorry that my lack of a social life is putting such a crimp in yours,” Lola replied with mock indignation.

         “I would settle for you having at least a sex life,” the brunette quipped. “If you’d like, I can give you directions to the specialty shop Jack and I frequent. I’ll even recommend some of the more fun inventory so you can get in some practice before the real deal. Clean out those cobwebs, if you know what I mean,” she waggled her eyebrows lewdly. “Just make sure you’re stocked up on batteries.” The door chimes began tinkling as the front door was pushed open, just as the conversation was taking a turn down a lane that was sure to be glowing in a heady shade of red.

         “Good afternoon, ladies,” greeted Jack, Modesta’s boyfriend, as he came sauntering happily into the boutique. “What are you gal pals talking about on this fine afternoon?” he asked, making his way to the counter. He gave Modesta a quick kiss on the side of her head as he approached.

         “Batteries,” Lola answered.

         “That’s…weird. Anyway, did you ask her yet?” Jack asked the woman whose shoulders were wrapped comfortably under his arm.

         “Ask me what?” Lola inquired.

         “I was just getting to that. Lola, how would you like to visit the Renaissance faire this weekend with us? Jack has some extra tickets if you’re interested.”

         Lola gasped with excitement. “I would love that! Yes! Thank you! God, I haven’t been to the Ren faire since high school.”

         “Well, you’re going to want to be there this year,” Jack proclaimed. “I’m playing the part of the royal court jester.”

         “Total typecast if you ask me,” Modesta cut in. “He’d be better fit as a jousting knight.”

         “Modesta has a part, too,” he continued. “She’s one of the soothsayers.”

         “Now that’s typecasting,” Lola interjected, pointing a knowing finger at her friend. “But, wait, does that mean you’ll both be working the whole time?”

         “I’m only working the booth half of the day,” Modesta responded, “so, yes, you’ll be by yourself until lunch time. But, I figured you wouldn’t mind. You know, now you can wander the grounds freely, get some inspiration, and maybe do a little writing.”

         “That does sound like fun,” Lola agreed. “Okay! I’ll do it!”

         “Awesome! Here’s your ticket,” Modesta said, handing over a slip of paper from her purse. “We can drive over together. I’ll pick you up at nine.”

         “Thanks again, guys,” Lola said, taking the piece of paper her friend offered. “This is going to be so much fun.”

         “There’s just one rule you must abide first and foremost in order to gain entrance: you are to dress in costume.”

         “You don’t have to tell me twice to play dress up,” Lola laughed.

         “It’s going to be a whole new experience, one that you’ve never seen before,” Jack piped in. “Ever since new management took over five years ago, let’s just say the faire has become a lot more immersive.”

         “And, who knows,” Modesta continued, dropping her voice and leaning in over the counter, “maybe you won’t have to resort to batteries by the end of this adventure.”

         “A-hem,” came a gravelly cough by Modesta’s elbow. The tiny old lady, who had been forgotten by the women, roughly slammed a bottle of bubble bath onto the counter. She squinted up at Modesta with eyelids so tight one would have assumed they’d been sewn shut. “A hunk of meat is no good unless you have a fine ass to grab onto.” She shot a squint at Jack, who physically flinched from the look. “It seems like you don’t have a problem in either department, dearie.” The old woman cackled, paid for her item, and shuffled out of the store, leaving the three friends in stunned amazement. Lola and Modesta turned to one another and burst out loud in laughter.

         “Wait, what just happened?” Jack stood in the middle of the store, scratching his head, confused, while the two women continued to laugh for a solid five minutes. 

~~~

[seven-oomen]

Happy Halloween, Ben!  I hope you are continuing to feel better!  Do you expect any trick-or-treaters tonight?  (Is that a thing in the Netherlands?)  I hope you find lots of good candy at the grocery store!  I myself have two bags of dark chocolate Kit Kats to hand out to all the kids I foresee coming by (*wink wink*)  Your pumpkin is adorable, by the way.  I wanted to do some cool faces with mine, but my friends that normally host a Halloween party decided to just hold their Costume and Pumpkin Decorating Contests online, and the theme was “2020”.  I thought “well, I’ll just get two pumpkins, and use one for the contest and one for whatever."  Then one of them started molding, which seemed very on brand for this year, so I just went with it, and ended up with meme pumpkins.  I included a color pic, so you can see just how gross the one got.  Fun fact: the top of it is held on by being skewered with a dowel rod and set in place along the rim.  In case you were curious (you probably weren’t, but oh well), trying to scoop out a moldy pumpkin is indeed deeply gross.  Imagine a physical manifestation of the sensation most people seem to feel when you say the word "moist”.  Just…so gross and squishy…  *shudders in remembrance*

My costume attempt turned out okay given that I managed to pull it together entirely out of things I already had.  In case you don’t recognize the symbol, I was one of the more recent comic versions of Black Canary (this one at least had proper shorts).  Let me tell you, trying to free hand draw that goddamn bird outline with no printer or projector was an adventure.  I had to do it backwards, essentially, too, because I realized that pencil marks are extremely difficult to erase off of craft foam.

And I just wanted to show off that I’m the kind of classy bitch who drinks wine out of a can (also, it’s an awesome can.)  To be fair, it was actually surprisingly decent (I say, as though I know shit about wine).  I sent a picture to a friend, and she started teasing me, and I said “it’s a rainbow can, how was I supposed to pass it up?”, and she was like “you know what, fair, I would have done the same thing."  I also got some kind of sparkling red wine to drink tonight for proper spooky effect.  The cashier commented on it being good as I was checking out, so here’s hoping.

I know what you mean about endless plot ideas, too.  I started a couple of smaller pieces to work on when my longer WIP gets overwhelming, got on a roll, and have almost finished one.  I got super excited when I finally got to a few of the lines that were among the first I thought of for it months ago, then realized "fuck, now I have to write the smut, don’t I?"  So, hopefully the wine will offer some inspiration there, too. XD

By the way, I totally wasn’t kidding about the Chris Evans/Henry Cavill rom com idea.  I totally went and found it in my FB messages and screen-shot it so that I can now inflict share it.  Buckle up, here we go:  So, Chris’s character’s great-aunt (played by Angela Landsbury) talks him into coming to stay with her along the English coast after his divorce, and help her run her mystery book shop.  Only, less than a week in, she runs off to go on vacation with her boy toy (Christopher Walken).  By this point, he’s already ended up in an unexpected rivalry with the co-owner of the comic shop next door (Henry), who’s been trying to get the great-aunt to sell him part of the bookstore’s storage space to build a table-top gaming area.  The woman (Natalie Dormer) who runs the little bakery/tea shop attached to the other side of the bookstore has a running bet with the other co-owner of the comic shop (John Boyega) on how long it will take for the two men to realize just what type of tension there actually is between them.  Chris could wear hipster glasses, and skinny jeans, and cozy sweaters/cardigans, that he could remove at strategic moments to reveal the ridiculousness that is his arms and chest.  Henry could wear tight jeans and fitted nerdy t-shirts and SET THE CURLS FREE GODDAMMIT.  And of course at least one encounter would have to happen at a dog park, because both their RL dogs are absolutely adorable and deserve a moment in the spotlight.  Please, Netflix, I’m begging you.  Make it happen.  (If you curious, this particular moment of inspiration struck during a discussion over "if Evans is America’s Ass, is Cavill Britain’s?"  My friends are also classy like me.  XD ) 

Well, on that note, I’m gonna shut up for a while, and go wash the color out of my hair, because I think it’s been on at least half an hour longer than it should be, technically.  Enjoy your sugary findings, and I hope they and your coffee give plenty of energy for writing your various projects! :D  I hope you continue to feel better, and that things keep looking up!  Take care!  *Properly socially distanced and seasonally spoopy hugs to you both!*

Okay 1: omg I need that gay wine. (Rainbow wine, whatever.) That is amazing, I love it. And I totally get why you needed that. I don’t have any wine for myself tonight. But I have some Budweiser (Or well “Bud” as it is called here), cans of coke and Jack Daniels, so I should be good.

 And I think your jacket turned out pretty well! Looks awesome. (Though I get what you mean about craftfoam. It is a bitch to work with when you only have pencils and no stencils.)

Halloween isn’t much of a thing here I’m afraid, aside from some witches who celebrate samhain and the uprising of general pop culture there aren’t many people who really celebrate Halloween like in the US. So no, I don’t expect any trick or treaters tonight (also because COVID has us on a 8 pm curfew). 

I think the Netherlands celebrates Saint Martin far more which Wikipedia explains pretty well as: Saint Martin's day, also known as the Funeral of Saint Martin, Martinstag or Martinmas, as well as Old Halloween and Old Hallowmas Eve is the Funeral day of Saint Martin of Tours (else Martin le Miséricordieux) and is celebrated on 11 November each year.

The day is celebrated on the evening of 11 November (the day Saint Martin was buried) in the Netherlands, where he is known as Sint-Maarten. As soon it gets dark, children up to the age of 11 or 12 (primary school age) go door to door with hand-crafted lanterns made of hollowed-out sugar beet or, more recently, paper, singing songs such as "Sinte Sinte Maarten", to receive candy or fruit in return. In the past, poor people would visit farms on the 11th of November to get food for the winter. In the 1600s, the city of Amsterdam held boat races on the lake IJ. 400 to 500 light craft, both rowing boats and sailboats, took part with a vast crowd on the banks.

But other than that we don’t really have a holiday where children go door to door to ask for candy.

It’s getting more popular now in recent years to do so on Halloween, as well as Halloween parties, but it’s not very widespread.

I know what you mean about endless plot ideas, too.  I started a couple of smaller pieces to work on when my longer WIP gets overwhelming, got on a roll, and have almost finished one.  I got super excited when I finally got to a few of the lines that were among the first I thought of for it months ago, then realized "fuck, now I have to write the smut, don’t I?"  So, hopefully the wine will offer some inspiration there, too. XD

Yeah I was really excited to write some fanfic for Love and Monsters and then today I started doubting that. And now I’m leaning towards writing more Petopher fic where Chris gets turned?

I blame @for-the-love-of-wolves​ for that one because I read their fic and now I’m like: that’s a good idea. I want to write that too. And now I can’t shake it.

I should really finish things but urgh... part of me just wants to write more teen wolf fanfic.

I’m really curious about your wip though, I hope that when you’re ready to share it, I get to read it too. ^^

Honestly, Netflix needs to make this idea happen. I insists. I wonder if my friend who works their customer service can pitch ideas but I don’t have much hope for that. Would be pretty awesome though to see this come alive because it’s GOOD! Holy moly I want that to happen now XD. Brittain’s ass is it, UK Vs US ass fight!

Wait is that too gay?

Ah who cares XD

I’m still snivelling with a cold but it’s only stuff coming out of my nose, for the most part, I’m doing pretty good and can focus somewhat on things again. And no real pain aside from the general ones.

So I’m gonna wish you Happy Halloween, have a good night and lots of socially distanced hugs from me and Mo.

[chibinightowl]

Roll the Dice

Prompt:

I am a dragon who collects pretty things, you're a kind local game shop owner who always shows me the prettiest dice when I come in and I'm not sure if you're staring at me because you can see through my glamour AU.

Because I just HAD to post something today. Jason’s been going through a lot of crap in the comics recently, so our boy needs some love today! Happy Birthday, Jason! Beta read by @comicroute

~*~*~

The little set of bells over the door jingled as a customer walked into the small shop. Jason barely glanced up from his book, a pencil in hand as he underlined sentences and scribbled in the margins. “Welcome,” he said by rote, barely glancing at the dark haired young man who’d just entered. Classes may have just ended for the summer, but the life of a literature graduate student was never ending. Too many books, not enough time.

Luckily the owner of the game shop didn’t mind if he read on the clock, not as long as everything was clean and where it belonged. Weekdays were slow as hell while the weekends could be described as a Category 5 hurricane. Thank god he only had to close because if there was one thing Jason hated, it was dealing with people. The worst of the chaos was over and long gone by this time his shift started, leaving only the most dedicated of RPG gamers at the table in the back of the store.

Those guys he could deal with. They were polite and always took the hint that when Jason started taking out the trash it was time for them to leave.

The customer stopped right in front of the counter Jason sat behind and knelt, staring intently at the dice that were kept there along with some of the more collectible items the owner sold. He lowered his book and waited, wondering which dice he’d be asked to take out for closer inspection. The man was mostly hidden in front of the counter, but his horns rose up high enough for Jason to see clearly.

Wait, what? Horns?

This was a game shop so Jason was used to seeing some odd characters, and considered himself an oddity as well, but horns were something new. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose to make sure he was seeing things clearly.

Yep. Those were horns. Not those costume horns that some of the cosplayers wore when they game in for an event either, or even the plastic ones that one of the regular gamers wore on their headbands.

These were honest to god horns, rising right up out of the man’s mop of black hair knelt in front of the display case. Jason could hear him cooing over the dice, muttering something about pretty shinies.

“Uh, can I help you with something?” he asked, leaning over slightly to get a better look. It wasn’t often that his second sight kicked in like this. The last time it did, it was because of the nest of pixies that had started roosting in the stairwell leading up to the roof of his cheap apartment building. They loved the milk Jason left for them and gave him gifts of little stones and coins they found out on the streets.

The coins were useful; the rocks, not so much.

A pair of icy blue eyes glanced up at Jason, pupils slit like a cat’s. “Sorry, I always get distracted by the dice when I come to shops like these,” the horned man said, standing upright. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“You new to the area then?” Jason asked. “I haven’t seen you in here before. Unless you’re a weekender…”

The man nodded, his horns bobbing easily despite the added weight on his slender neck. “New to Gotham, actually. I’ll be starting at Gotham University as an adjunct professor for the fall semester.”

“That’s almost three months away,” Jason said, eyeing the man closely. What was he? He seemed friendly enough, even personable, which was just all kinds of off for the supernatural creatures that made Gotham their home. “Besides, you look a bit young to be a professor.”

Sharp fangs glistened under the fluorescent lights as the man grinned. “I hear that all the time. Trust me when I say I’m older than I look.”

Jason tried not to stare, which was really hard because chances were likely this was a being who could eat him and not blink an eye over it. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said instead and gestured to the case. “Is there anything in here I can take out for you?”

The horned man’s gaze dropped to the case, then flickered back up to Jason. “Yes, actually there is. Those teal dice, can I get a better look at them?”

~*~*~

Tim wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the young man from the game shop he’d wandered into after settling into the old brownstone that he’d rented for his time in Gotham. One thing he did know was that buying those teal dice had been a no brainer after he got a good look at the other man’s eyes.

Those were eyes that saw much more than they let on. And if the slightly elevated heart rate and the startled scent that tickled his nose were right, then he’d seen right through Tim’s glamour.

A glamour that had been carefully crafted and honed to protect him in the human world for more than three centuries. Even amongst the Fae, a dragon stood out.

So the fact that a human saw him for who he was made him curious. Very curious. It was entirely possible the man didn’t know he was Fae-touched. Which, considering the shock of white hair on his brow, was surprising.

The next week, he went back to the shop to get a closer look at the interesting human. And, just like before, Tim found himself distracted by all the colorful dice in the display case. This happened to him every single time he walked into a game store. It didn’t matter that these were just pieces of resin and plastic, hardly anything a dragon of his caliber should notice. The shine, glitter, and glimmering colors made his fingers itch and his hoarding instincts rise to the surface.

He had plenty of dice and game pieces in his hoard, many of which he’d even carved himself and, with a little bit of magic, melted his scales around to create a rich, shimmery blue that reminded him of the ocean meeting the evening sky. Those were priceless.

These little pieces of plastic were not.

But the colors…ruby reds that glinted with gold, sea green melded together with the emerald of a forest, blacks shot through with silver. If the smaller dice were bad, then the larger 20-sided dice were the worst. Tim spotted a new one he hadn’t seen last week, a teal colored one that perfectly matched the odd human’s eyes.

He had to have it.

“You must really like dice,” the human said, interrupting Tim’s covetous thoughts.

Looking up, Tim saw the young man was leaning over the counter to watch him, a smirk teasing the corners of his lips. He swallowed hard, staring into those vibrant eyes that were so out of place on a mere mortal. What was he?

“I like the colors,” Tim admitted as he stood to gaze at the human on more level ground. “The palettes have changed so much since I first started playing.”

A dragon who played Warlocks and Wizards. What was this world coming to?

“Never played myself, but you’re hardly the first person to wander in here and get distracted by them. Although I think you’re the first one I’ve heard call them shinies.”

Tim bit his lip and tried not to laugh. “How can you work in a place like this and not play?”

The young man shrugged his broad shoulders. “I started working here as a favor to the owner when I was about 18. He was having problems with some of the kids stealing things and since I’m a former thief, he thought I might be able to scare the crap out of them.”

“How does that logic work?” Tim couldn’t help asking. “I understand the whole ‘takes a thief to catch a thief’, but the rest?”

“He’s known me for almost a decade now. If I spotted some asshole putting something they hadn’t paid for in their pockets, I’d just pick it right back out before they left. Besides, I have no interest in any of the stuff here and the boss knows it. I think it’s all crap for people with too much money and time on their hands.”

Tim let himself laugh at the clearly disgusted expression on the human’s face. “I might be willing to argue that point, but since I’m about to drop some more money in here, that defeats the purpose.”

“Whatever rocks your world,” the human replied, his smirk morphing into a brief grin that did incredible things to his eyes. Tim wanted to fall into them and explore their depths.

Not yet, though. He needed to assess and strategize first, as well as find out some more information about this intriguing person. For that, he needed his name.

“I can think of a lot of things that do,” Tim said easily and pointed at the large 20-sided dice. “Like that. I’m Tim, by the way. Tim Drake.”

His current pseudonym rolled off his tongue. Ironically, it was closer to his real name than any of the other names he’d gone by over the centuries.

The human unlocked the case and offered him a crooked half smile as he knelt to retrieve the dice. “Jason Todd.”

How did that saying go? Oh, yes. Bingo.

~*~*~

Jason didn’t see Tim again until the following week when he wandered in on a Thursday night about twenty minutes before closing time. It would be a big fat lie to say he hadn’t been thinking about the man off and on over the last week. The horns and slitted blue eyes captured his attention like nothing else, making Jason switch up his usual reading material to tackle Spenser’s The Faerie Queen. It seemed appropriate, even if epic poetry gave him a headache.

He kind of wished there was a bestiary that was actually accurate for the supernatural. By all rights, Tim looked like some kind of demon, but he didn’t feel inherently evil or dark. That and he’d first come into the shop in the middle of the day, so there went the Dark Fae idea he’d tossed around and quickly rejected. His sight was more than just vision, but intuition too, which came in handy when he lived on the streets.

“Hello, Jason,” Tim said as he entered. “You’re always here when I come in. Don’t you ever get a day off?”

Jason set aside his book and nervously fiddled with his glasses. Small talk? Really? “I try and pick up as many hours as I can in the summer between school terms. Makes the owner happy since he doesn’t have to hire anyone else.”

“It must pick up quite a bit, what with everyone out for the summer. Do you guys host any of those card games the kids seem to like?”

This was so surreal. Jason nodded and pointed toward the right of the door at all the fliers that hung there. “We have those and some tabletop gaming. Wizards and Warlocks, I think?”

“Wizards and Warriors,” Tim corrected with a smile. A hint of fang peeked out from under his lip and Jason cleared his throat, looking away as something tightened in his chest.

“So, what brings you in tonight?” Jason asked, shoving aside the strange feeling. He pointedly tapped his fingers on the countertop.

Sure enough, Tim’s gaze was directed to the gaming dice and other paraphernalia in the glass display. It was rather amusing how easy it was to distract him, kind of like giving a crow something shiny.

“I’m here for a rulebook,” Tim replied after a long moment, clearly fighting the impulse to get a better look. “I don’t think I packed it.”

“Isn’t that stuff online?” Jason rose from his stool and stepped around the counter to head toward the back of the shop where all the gaming books were carefully arranged and alphabetized. Games may not be his thing, but books were books.

Tim followed after him on silent feet. “Yes, but I like having something to hold on to. The online materials make things a lot easier, I’ll admit that, but you could say I’m a bit old-fashioned.”

Jason wondered how old Tim really was. This was the second allusion he’d made to being older than he looked.

“Well, everything we have is right here, so knock yourself out. If we don’t have what you’re lookin’ for, I can order it, but it’ll probably be faster if you do it yourself.”

There was that flash of fang again as Tim picked up one of the books and started to flip through it. “Now where’s the fun in that? There’s a certain amount of joy in the hunt, in seeking out whatever it is you’re searching for.”

Jason had no words with which to reply, so he simply shrugged and walked back to the counter. The entire way, he would have sworn he felt Tim’s weighted gaze on him, but when he sat back down and picked up his own book, the other man was immersed in his own. A shiver prickled its way down his spine. He had the distinct feeling Tim had not been speaking about a book when he said he was on the hunt.

~*~*~

Tim growled and paced around his bedroom, his claws digging into the palm of his hands. What under the light was wrong with him? He’d come to Gotham to work, to find some relief from the monotonous tedium that was his life, not find himself attracted to a human with the most stunning pair of eyes he’d ever seen, even hidden as they were behind a pair of glasses that Tim was willing to bet his favorite ruby over Jason not needing in the slightest.

Eyes that he craved with every ounce of his being, whether they were lost and far away in the books Jason was reading every time he saw him or laughing in amusement at some smart comment or joke Tim made. He wanted to see their full range, hazy from sleep when Jason first woke up to bright and fiery from the passion that was stoked within.

Who was he trying to kid? He didn’t want just Jason’s eyes. No, he wanted all of him.

Jason Todd was a mystery and Tim was never one to pass up a good puzzle.

Armed with his name, Tim started his search. It didn’t take very long, not with his computer skills. He was definitely an oddity amongst the Fae for even using human technology, but it’s not like a computer could hurt him. He found Jason’s juvenile records first, the ones that placed him in a detention center for a few years because of his sticky fingers. Apparently they were necessary too, because his home life had been less than ideal. It consisted of a father who was never around and then later killed in prison and a mother who wasn’t actually his mother, according to the birth certificate Tim unearthed.

His real mother’s name was known to Tim. It was a name he did not like at all, not after what she’d done to betray the earthbound Fae to a fiend known only as the Joker. The thought briefly crossed his mind to use Jason to get his revenge on her, but he shunted it aside as pointless. Sheila Haywood was slowly wasting away, drooling and mindless, in an asylum outside of Liverpool.

How she came to have a child though, that intrigued Tim more. Jason was clearly abandoned by her and left to be raised by humans, unaware of the gifts that were in his blood, wild talents that waited only for the right time to manifest themselves.

So this was where Tim found himself, pacing and trying to figure out what to do. Did he give in to his baser instincts and simply lay claim to Jason, dragging him across an ocean to his primary residence in Scotland? Or did he do this the human way and properly court the man, slowly and carefully revealing only that which Tim wanted him to know until the time came for Jason to become his?

Tim fell back on his overly plush bed and draped an arm over his eyes. Dramatic, yes, but he was feeling it at the moment. He didn’t really have much of a choice in this, not if he wanted Jason to come to him willingly. Which was going to be hard because the human was more interested in his books than the dragon. There was a quaint human phrase that Tim heard bandied about rather often these days and he thought it rather appropriate to his circumstances.

This sucked.

~*~*~

Jason could often be said to have his head stuck in the clouds considering all the time he spent reading, but he was a Gotham street-rat born and bred, and that meant he was paranoid as hell about his surroundings at any given time, even tucked away in a relatively safe place like the game shop. So he couldn’t help but notice that, week after week, he saw more and more of Tim.

Not that this was a bad thing, because he still didn’t know exactly what the man was, and it kept his mind engaged as he tried to puzzle it out. The long, curled horns were as black as Tim’s hair, matte while his hair shone like a raven’s wing. Delicately pointed ears made Jason think elf, but he’d never read of an elf with horns before, or sharp white fangs and black claws that matched the horns. Honestly though, it was Tim’s pale blue eyes that had him the most curious.

What did he see when he looked at Jason?

A poor, not-quite-starving graduate student, that’s what. Jason shoved aside the thoughts of Tim seeing him as anything other than a curiosity. That’s why he had to be coming back here, right? What else was could it be since there were only so many bags of dice, rulebooks, and games the man could purchase each time he came in.

The next time Jason saw him, he was going to speak up. Call him out on this little charade that had been going on for weeks now.

Satisfied with his decision, Jason went to work. There was a bit of a rush that afternoon from a tide of incoming students who were just moving back into their dorms for the soon-to-start fall semester. It kept him busy and by the time seven o’clock came, the store was empty.

The peace and quiet didn’t last long. Jason was in the back with the gamebooks when he heard the bells over the door jingle, announcing someone entering the shop.

“Welcome,” he said, standing up straight to see who had come in. His throat suddenly became as parched as the desert as he took in the sight of Tim.

Unlike all the other times Tim had visited the shop, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, this time he wore something entirely different. Snug black pants gripped his lean waist, seemingly painted onto his lower body as they left little room for imagination. He still wore a t-shirt, but the electric blue was muted by the long sleeved mesh top he wore over it. Jason was pretty sure there were leather boots involved as well, but he was too trapped by the intense gaze Tim was giving him.

“Hello, Jason,” Tim said, greeting him as he normally did, like he wasn’t dressed up to hit some club after he left. “I’m both saddened and glad to see you’re working tonight.”

Jason tried to swallow, unable to look away as Tim stalked slowly toward him. It took him a few tries to find his voice. “Why’s that?”

Tim held up a small plastic bag that Jason had somehow overlooked. “I understand it’s your birthday. I’d hoped you would be out with friends tonight, but I will admit this works better for my plans. I brought you a treat. Hope you like it.”

Wait, what? “How did you know it’s my birthday? I didn’t even know it was.” It was not uncommon for him to forget. He didn’t have many friends around who cared enough to celebrate with him, so why bother?

“I have my sources,” Tim replied evasively. “Here.” He handed the bag to Jason, his fingers brushing Jason’s hand ever so lightly.

He shuddered slightly under the touch, so foreign and yet…welcomed at the same time. Opening the bag, Jason found a small bakery box and a candle. The bag fell to the floor as he unsealed the box, revealing what looked like a red velvet cupcake.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I hope this is to your taste,” Tim said, stooping over to pick up the bag and retrieve the candle. He stuck the end into the creamy frosting, his eyes burning with some unknown desire. “Happy birthday, Jason. Make a wish.”

Jason swallowed again, remembering his promise to himself about the next time he saw Tim. Time to roll the dice. “Got a lighter? I need to blow out the candle first.”

The smirk that appeared on Tim’s face was downright devilish as he leaned in, pursing his lips as he did. A small jet of fire erupted from between them, lighting the candle in an instant.

“I knew it,” Jason breathed. “I fucking knew it.”

The smirk grew into a pleased grin. “Just as I knew you see more than what I present to the world. But have you guessed what I really am yet?”

Jason was about to shake his head, but stopped, thinking back to the beginning of the summer when Tim first visited the shop and his complete and utter distraction with the dice in the display. He’d compared it back then to a crow and a shiny object, but really, it was more like… “A dragon,” Jason said firmly. “You’re a dragon.”

Tim’s smiled grew and there was the flash of fang that had been driving Jason nuts all summer. He cupped Jason’s hands in his own and raised the cupcake and it’s still burning candle higher. “I am. Does this bother you?”

Far from it. Jason now realized what the tightening in his stomach was each time he saw Tim. It was desire. Finally, he had met someone who was just as odd as him. Odder, even, because those horns were front and center as Tim tilted his head back ever so slightly to watch him. “Not in the slightest,” he replied.

“Good. Now make a wish, Jason. Don’t tell me what it is because I want to spend the rest of your life trying to figure it out.”

[rebellingstagnationblog]

Toyland - Perry Como

@pharaoh-ink asked for a Quackerjack chapter where we explored him working during the holiday season before he was a villain. 

@anachrolady made this gorgeous art piece for this story. Please go commission them! You will not be disappointed! Click here to see what they can do and their prices.  

You can also find their work here: http://www.darkwingtower.com/

The World of Color show soundtrack will pick up again with tomorrow's story. But for now, onto Quackerjack!

It had never been a toy shop in the Negaverse; it looked like it had been a bookstore instead. Quackerjack didn't know why he had wanted to visit except that the idea had consumed him to the point where no other thoughts had been circling in his head the past few days.

So he'd come.

And now that he was here.

He didn't like it.

It had looked better in the Prime Universe. When it had been his.

Sitting in the middle of the abandoned shop, with the roof half caved in and plant life crawling up what remained of the walls, Quackerjack cast his mind back. Visualized his toy store. As it had once been in another universe a lifetime ago.

—…—…—…—…—…—…—…—

The most wonderful time of year was reserved specifically for those who didn't work in retail. Long hours, unreasonable requests, a staggering amount of product being shoved onto the floor only to fly off the shelves moments later. Constant turn around, money flying everywhere, and emotions running high.

It was enough to cause many an employee to swear off the Christmas season. Or to quit retail all together.

But to Jack, it was a magical time of year.

Colors were brighter. Displays were alive with their moving trains and flying reindeer. And the children. Eyes wide with wonder, hopes so very high for what was to come on the 25th day of December.

He enjoyed this time of year so much that he'd even gone so far as to design his shop around a Christmas song. The licensing had gone through so he'd been able to name if after the song in question. Toyland.

From the outside, it didn't look any different from the other stores lined up along the block. A rather ordinary shopfront, the name carved into a wooden sign that hung above the doorway, a jester hat — his logo — painted across the bottom, complete with golden jingle bells on the ends. Large bay windows bracketed the door, giving a clear view to his displays and window dressings. The purple door was the only sign that something was different about this particular store, and often brought in customers to investigate.

The interior of the shop was lovingly crafted from the crown molding to the hardwood floors, dark and light woods playing off of one another across the shop. There were areas with rugs laid out surrounded by plush chairs and small tables where the children were encouraged to unleash their imaginations and test out which toy would be so lucky as to go home with them. The shelves lining all the walls were a smooth varnished wood, always stocked full of the latest and greatest toys. "Toyland"'s lyrics were painted in loopy gold script along the crown molding, a constant reminder to Jack about the sanctity of his vocation.

A large pine tree stood proudly in the center of the shop, children scurrying around and playing with the toy soldiers, nutcrackers, stuffed mice, rocking horses, and dolls that had been set up in an elaborate battle scene around the base. The Nutcracker was extremely popular this year. Which Jack had (correctly) predicted. Not that he was saying his predictions always came true. They just usually did. What could he say? He knew the toy game and how to use it to his advantage.

"Hullo, Mr. Jack!" came a small voice.

Jack leaned over the counter to spy a small girl, hair in messy curls around her face. "Hello, Alex!" he cried, smiling down at her. He spread out atop the counter so as to maintain eye contact with her and kicked his legs up merrily behind him. "Why weren't you at playtime today?"

Playtime was a daily occurrence at Toyland. Jack gathered all the children in the largest section of the shop and debuted his newest creations, allowing the kids to test them out before the products hit the shelves. Some of his regulars, like Alex, prided themselves on attending playtime religiously, and weren't afraid to speak their minds about what worked and what didn't.

Alex's brow furrowed and she drew her beak into a frown. Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "Mr. Jack asked you a question."

Squaring her shoulders and looking up to Jack with no apology in her big eyes, Alex said, "I was in detention, Mr. Jack."

"So close to Christmas?" Jack lamented, placing his beak in the palm of his hand. "What happened?"

"Mrs. Kapla said I was fighting, but I wasn't. Honest! There were bullies pushing Emily around at recess, and she's too small to push back, so I did it for her." Alex crossed her arms. "And I'd do it again."

"Alex!" reprimanded her mother.

"I would!" the girl insisted.

Jack smiled down at her. "I'm proud of you for standing up to the bullies, little playmate. But maybe next time you could get a grown up to help you?"

"There wasn't time!" Alex said, throwing her hands up in desperation. "The bell was about to ring and we were all gonna go back inside and no one saw it happening except me so I had to do something!"

Alex's mother — he never bothered with the names of the grownups; they were all boring people who had forgotten how to use their imaginations — looked at Jack, her eyes half-lidded. "Do you see what I have to deal with?"

Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes and returned his attention to Alex. "You were very brave."

Alex looked at him, hope in her eyes. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. How about this: when you see the bullies pick on someone again, you can help out your friend and then tell a teacher later?"

Alex cocked her head to one side. "I guess that could work."

"Of course it will work! I'm a genius after all."

"A genius toy maker," Alex corrected, already sarcastic at the age of nine. He loved it. "It's not the same. What did you and the other kids play with today?"

"Oh! Let me show you!" Jack careened over the counter to join Alex, hurriedly digging through his pockets and kneeling down to her level. "You've heard of wind-up toy soldiers. How about a wind-up ballerina who can dance on her own?"

"Outside of a music box?" She sounded skeptical. "How does she balance?"

"Magic," Jack said with a grin, pulling out the ballerina and setting it on the counter. He wound the key in the doll's back and it began to dance, arms and legs gracefully moving to a song played by a phantom orchestra. Alex was transfixed, her little hands gripping the edge of the counter as she watched the toy dance.

Her mother mouthed, "Thank you," to Jack but he waved it away, focusing on Alex. Her reaction was what he really needed. He was proud of this particular toy, but the opinions of his playmates were essential to his creative process.

"Does she have to be in pink?" Alex asked eventually, glancing at Jack.

"Well, ballerinas usually wear pink, don't they? What other color would she wear?"

"Whatever color I want. There could be different tutus. Besides, she'd have to have different clothes for all the ballets she dances in."

Jack's eyes grew wide. "A whole wardrobe of costumes." He jumped up, a grin on his face as he turned to his cashier. "A whole wardrobe!" Leaping up onto the counter, he exclaimed, "A WHOLE WARDROBE!"

The adults in the store looked horrified by his actions, hurriedly looking away from him or whispering to one another. Some of the children looked curious while those who'd participated in playtime earlier today looked disappointed that they hadn't thought of the idea first.

Scooping up the ballerina and sitting atop the counter, Jack grinned down at Alex. "You can't get anymore detentions. I need you at playtime."

Alex smiled. "You do?"

"Yes! No one else came up with that idea. It's genius! Isn't it genius, Claire?" He turned to his cashier.

The young woman smiled back, making Jack's stomach do several loopty-loops, before leaning over the counter to cast her sunshine on Alex. "Absolutely. Mr. Jack knows a genius when he sees one."

A customer approached the counter, toys in hand, and Claire invited them forward while Jack jumped down to join Alex again.

"Tell you what, little playmate, why don't you take this ballerina with you?"

"Don't you wanna keep her?" Alex asked, staring at the doll with wonder on her face. "So you can make more?"

"I have more that aren't finished yet in the back. You take this one and in a few months, bring it back and we can set you up with a whole closet full of tutus and costumes."

Alex glanced up at Jack before grinning and taking the doll gently from his grasp.

"What do you say to Mr. Jack, Alex?" her mother promoted.

Cradling the doll close, Alex said, "Thank you, Mr. Jack."

"No, no. Thank you. You always make my toys better." He winked at her before waving goodbye as her mother ushered her out of the store.

A customizable ballerina. Why hadn't he thought of that?

The rest of the day flew by in a whirlwind of ribbons, scotch tape, and colorful paper as he rang up customers and boxed his latest and greatest creations. As the hustle and bustle wound down, Jack worked on putting the store back in order while Claire closed out the registers.

Or, he was supposed to tidy up. He kept getting distracted watching Claire count the bills with her long graceful fingers. Seeing her tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Observing how a faint line appeared between her brows as she totaled everything up. She'd worked at Toyland for a few months now and had become one of his favorite employees. Not just because she was pretty and did funny things to his insides, but because she was kind and patient and saw the same wonder in the children that he did. Because she sometimes took part in playtime with them and gave good constructive feedback.

Because, to her, these weren't just toys. They were a realm of possibility. A chance to help mold young children's imaginations and explore a better tomorrow.

"I know you're watching me."

Jack tripped on the edge of a display case and nearly took out his teddy bear brigade. Righting himself, and hoping he at least looked suave doing it, he glanced over at the counter. To where Claire was watching him with a knowing smile on her beak.

"N-no," he said weakly, leaning up against the dollhouse display and crossing one foot over the other. Like the cool kids in movies. "I was just…." Unable to find a decent excuse, he loped over to the counter, nearly tripping over his own feet along the way, and gesticulated madly to distract her. "Do you think we need some decorations across the front here?"

"The children would pull them down. You know how excited they get." Claire leaned over and studied the bare wanes coating of the cashier's desk. "Though, it could benefit from something."

"See? Just what I had been thinking. We are on the same wavelength."

Claire glanced up with a smirk.

Jack felt his cheeks heat. He cleared his throat and crouched down, trying to visualize something in the blank space. "A mural, perhaps?"

"Or more song lyrics?" Claire stacked the money together before slipping it into a bag and zipping it closed.

"That's an idea! There's gotta be more songs about toys out there." Jack cocked his head to one side, as if the angle would help lyrics fall into his head.

"I've always liked 'Pure Imagination' myself." Claire said. "Reminds me of you."

"Am I as mad as Willy Wonka?"

"Madder."

Jack glanced up, mock offense on his face.

Claire grinned and rested her forearms on the counter, her elegant hands entwining with one another. "You have to be mad to make all the amazing toys that you do."

Jack straightened up, an eyebrow raised. "I'm not sure if I should be offended."

Claire's smile grew soft as she leaned down. "You can be whatever you want to be."

Jack was about to give his retort, but it died on his tongue when he realized how close they were. Only the smallest of inches separating them. Her pale green eyes suddenly the center of his world. The smile slowly slipping off her face as she studied him, her beak opening as if to say something.

She seemed to be getting even closer. Maybe because he was stretching up towards her. Or was she dipping down to him? Both, he realized, as the distance between them grew smaller.

Her eyelids fluttered, long eyelashes sweeping over her cheeks. His heart was racing, the pulse pounding in his ears.

A sharp rap on the front door had Claire jerking backwards, her cheeks coloring as she glanced towards the noise.

She pulled her beak up into a polite smile and scurried over to open the front door. "I'm sorry, ma'am, we're closed for the evening."

"Oh, can't I come in for a moment? I promise I'll be quick. Its just, my son hasn't stopped talking about this Wiffle Boy, and all the other stores I've been to are sold out."

"What's a wiffle?" Jack asked, crossing the shop to stand behind Claire.

"Wiffle Boy. He's a character I think," said the woman, pushing her hair out of her face and shrugging. "I don't really know much beyond it's all these kids are talking about. Do you have anything that's Wiffle Boy?"

"I haven't heard of any board games about a Wiffle kid," said Jack, glancing over at his inventory. Was there a new release? No, he would have heard about it. Maybe if he knew what a wiffle was, knew what shape or color he was looking for….

"Oh, not a board game!" said the woman. "A video game."

Jack turned back, a sneer on his beak. "We don't sell video games here. We sell real toys. Toys that inspire children to create and become well adjusted adults, not something that will desensitize them to violence and turn them into criminals."

The woman's eyebrows rose.

Claire motioned over the woman's shoulder, saying, "There's a video game store down the street. You might have better luck with them."

"I'll try there, then. Thanks, and sorry to trouble you." With that, she bundled down the street to the video game shop that had opened up just after Halloween. Blinding lights flashed through the windows, sure to induce a migraine with their colorful and constant strobing.

There was no finesse to the display. No class. No sense at all. It was all just thrown together, the electric components whirring and blinking in a desperate attempt to pull in wayward shoppers.

The worst part was that it worked on some of them. Children would bounce when they saw the store, distracted by the shiny things inside. Jack didn't like those children; they were the ones who looked at his toys and asked, "But what does it do?"

Claire closed the door with a snap, and ensured their printed sign was turned so the "Closed" side faced the street. "I should probably get going," she said, sending a smile up to Jack as she walked back to the counter and scooped up her money bag. "I have shopping to do myself before I go home."

"Sure, sure," said Jack, giving one last cursory glare to the gaming store. "Thank you for all your help today."

"Of course," she said before disappearing into the stockroom.

Jack turned off the lights in his display windows and was straightening up the train village when Claire returned, buttoning her coat with her purse hanging off one shoulder.

"Don't stay up too late. Even mad geniuses need their sleep."

Jack grinned. "I'll do what I can."

"That means you'll be in that workshop of yours all through the night trying to get your ballerina's wardrobe sketched out."

He shrugged. "These toys won't invent themselves."

"I suppose not. But rest is important, too." Stuffing a hat on her head, Claire nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Jack tucked his hands into his pockets, suddenly unsure what to do with them. "See you tomorrow."

Claire gave him one last smile before exiting the shop, Jack locking the door behind her. He glanced up at the words painted above the frame. The letters were in need of a fresh coat of paint. He would have to book his artist after the madness of the holidays.

He turned off the lights and headed to the stockroom where a staircase curled up to his apartment. Before closing the door and retiring for the night, he paused at the foot of the staircase, hand on the railing, and looked out over his shop. As was his custom.

With the Christmas lights the only beacon shining through the darkness, the words over his doorway practically gleamed. "Once you pass its borders, you can never return again."

Jack flicked off the Christmas lights and climbed upstairs to his apartment where his workshop lie in wait, ready for an evening of experimentation and innovation.

—…—…—…—…—…—…—…—

Quackerjack was startled out of his memories when he heard an insistent banging on the door. Who even knew he was here? He stomped over and flung it open with a ferocious scowl on his beak.

Which he immediately wiped away when he saw who was standing on the stoop.

"Get your stuff," snapped Negaduck, his expression dark. "We're leaving."

"Where are we going?" Quackerjack asked.

Negaduck glared. "I said get your stuff." He spun and marched away.

Quackerjack bounced after him, his pockets already stuffed with toys.

They joined Megavolt, who had been standing a few feet away, and the three of them trudged through the Negaverse with Negaduck in the lead.

This song, in particular, I played on repeat while writing Jack’s dialogue and characterization. 

[wackomcgoose]

"The Not-So-Haunted Factory" - Written for Arachnida (@blood-brainbarrier​) for HWD Secret Spectres @hwdevents​

Human AU, Highschool AU, platonic RusAme

Major shout-out to @littlekroshkakartoshka​ for beta-reading and for letting me use her Yugoslavian headcanons!

[Mood music: Code Lyoko - Kadic Mornings]

It is a blustery fall day. Alfred walks out of the school as the final bell of the day rings. Once out of the way, he pulls out his phone and begins texting someone...

-- heroicBurgers began pestering vodkaMagician --

[heroicBurgers] hey

[heroicBurgers] hey dude

[heroicBurgers] got any plans for this weekend?

[vodkaMagician] Нет, Фредка.

[heroicBurgers] ...dude, i told you i can't read vodka runes

[vodkaMagician] I said nyet. I do not have plan, Fredka.

[heroicBurgers] well then now you've got one

[heroicBurgers] i heard a group of kids talking about exploring that old factory this weekend

[heroicBurgers] you know, the car factory they say is haunted?

[vodkaMagician] Da... Your point is?

[heroicBurgers] my point is, let's go prank some freshman, dude!

[heroicBurgers] we'll make them think it really is haunted!

[vodkaMagician] ...

[vodkaMagician] Fine.

[vodkaMagician] Why you are like to prank freshman, I do not understand, but I will come with you.

[heroicBurgers] it's gonna be fun, ivan, get in the spirit already!

[heroicBurgers] see you there!

-- heroicBurgers ceased pestering vodkaMagician --

With that sorted, Alfred walks off to gather supplies and intel for the prank. This is gonna be great!

[Mood music: Code Lyoko - Sneaking Around]

That Saturday, Ivan makes his way to the supposedly-haunted factory, once again questioning the reasoning of his American-born friend. He arrives, carrying the few requested items: a gallon of glow-in-the-dark slime, an old construction worker's outfit, a spool of twine, and a crowbar.

"Dude, finally! I've been here for hours working on this already!" Alfred's voice can be heard from behind a pillar. Ivan walks over, discovering a rather elaborate device already being built. "Did you get the slime and outfit?"

"Da, I did, though I do not know why. Nor why you did not buy slime yourself, since you are living closer to craft store than me..." Ivan mutters as he hands the stuff over. "What is device?"

"You know those 'audio animatronic' things Disneyland's got? Same concept, but mobile. We're gonna have a 'ghost' ride up to the group, dripping ectoplasm, and scare the pants off them!" Alfred grins, beginning to put the clothes on the dummy. It appears to be one of those poseable store mannequins, attached to a large RC car, with pulleys on various joints.

Ivan mutters to himself in Russian, making Alfred pause. "Fredka, that is not how you scare person. This is how you scare person." He pulls out of his jacket, a piece of rusty-looking lead pipe, with what appears to be a hell of a lot of blood on it. Alfred turns white as a ghost. "...Relax, is fake blood! I scare you muchly, da?"

"N-Not f-funny, dude, we're supposed to be on the same side here." Alfred finishes 'clothing' the device, and picks up an RC controller. "Besides, we can't let them see us, or they'll recognize us immediately and the prank is ruined. What else you got?"

"Hmm... Maybe if they are see us, is problem. But... what if they are only hear us?" The Russian exchange student unpockets a pair of walkie talkies and a few small speakers. "Is from electronics store. Voice changer and different channel select, can hide speaker in different place and make spooky sound."

Alfred's face lights up. "Now you're thinking what I'm thinking! I was gonna buy something like that, but the store was out. High five!" He holds up his hand. Ivan slaps it hard enough to make Alfred wince in pain. "G... good arm you got there... let's try and find places for these... then I got some other stuff..."

The dynamic duo proceed to spend the next few hours setting up various spooks, traps, and jumpscares throughout the facility. The whole time, there is a bit of an evil look in Ivan's eyes, as though it's more than a prank to him. Alfred tries to look away, but he swears he saw Ivan's eyes flicker with a purple aura once or twice...

[Mood music: Wallace and Gromit in Project Zoo - Warehouse (Exploration)]

"This is gonna be great, guys! We're totally gonna debunk a legend, bre!" The Serbian girl walks into the factory, leading her three companions inside.

"...Eh? Is this why you dragged us out here at midnight, Brenka?" Looking around, the Croatian boy rolls his eyes, while the young Bosnian hides behind the Montenegrin. "Calm down, Izet, there's nothing to be afraid of here 'cept Brenka's imagination. And stop hiding behind Jevrem."

"D-Do you m-mean the f-factory o-owner who d-d-died here?" Izet says from his hiding place.

Jevrem yawns. "Can we go back yet? I got sleep to catch up on and a paper to not do."

Brenka stops in the middle of the entry hall. "That 'paper' is why we're here, actually! We have to write about local legends, and I thought why not debunk one of the most popular, the Lithuanian car factory owner that got--" She pauses, staring at the trembling Izet. "Why did you come along, anyway?"

"I-I was d-dragged here..."

"Oh no you weren't, get over it already," retorts the Croat.

"Yeah Izet, get over it and help me look for clues!" Brenka rolls her eyes.

"W-who put y-you in c-charge?" Izet still won't come out from behind Jevrem.

"That's very easy, bre! You see..."

Meanwhile, Alfred listens to all of this over a hidden microphone. "Heh heh... They're so distracted, it's the perfect time to scare them! Ready, dude?"

Ivan grumbles, wearing a ratty factory-worker outfit. "I still do not like idea, Fredka."

"The worker-bot can't go up stairs, I need a real man out there to chase them! Now hurry up and get into position down there..." Alfred looks to the factory intercom system, wired into the voice-changer Ivan brought.

[Mood music: Code Lyoko - Emergency]

"And that is why Srbija is best nation. Any questions?" Brenka beams, having just finished a fifteen-minute 'lecture' on why her home country is the best.

"WHO DISTURBS MY SLUMBER?!" A voice booms out, filling the room.

Izet practically jumps out of his skin, Jevrem's eyes snap open from their half-closed state, Andrej rolls his eyes, and Brenka grins. "Hah! I knew someone was gonna set us up, bre! Show yourself!"

"IT HAS BEEN YEARS SINCE NEW WORKERS HAVE SHOWN UP..." The creepy voice echoes throughout the facility. "YOU FOUR SHALL DO NICELY."

"You wanna fight this?" Andrej puts up his fists. "I'll knock you into the post-afterlife, chump!"

A pair of 'factory workers' shamble into the room, one wielding a rusty pipe. Izet runs off before anyone else can stop him, Jevrem in pursuit shortly after.

"It's fake, guys! Come on, stop being chickens, bre!" Brenka calls after the others, before turning and noticing the one worker walking up to her, pipe raised over his head.

"...Escape first, debunk later, Srbija!"

"I told you not to call me th--" Brenka objects before Andrej grabs her hand and starts running.

Alfred taps the mute button on the intercom, doubled over with laughter. "This is going better than I thought!" Watching the two pairs of kids run away on the monitors, he pulls out his walkie-talkie and radios Ivan.

"Dude, keep following the talkative Serbian and the other guy. I got the sleepwalker and the scaredy-cat." He picks up the RC controller as he resumes piloting the robot. "Best. Halloween. Ever."

[Mood music: Wallace and Gromit in Project Zoo - Diamond-O-Matic (Fight)]

Izet runs through the halls of the factory, Jevrem in pursuit. Shortly behind the two, the robo-worker swings a shovel.

"N-not d-dying t-today, n-not d-dying t-today..." Izet mutters to himself as he continues to flee.

"C-come on, Izet, I can't keep up with you like this!" Jevrem wheezes as he struggles to keep up with the fleet-footed Bosnian...

"In here!" Andrej drags Brenka into a side room, slamming the door behind her.

"What the hell, Andrej! It's just a guy in a costume, it's gotta be!" She manages to wheeze out, trying to catch her breath.

"Fake or not, whatever it is wants to kill us..."

The man shambles up, pipe in hand... but is stopped as Andrej slams the door in his face, sending him reeling!

"..." Brenka is stunned at what she just witnessed, before Andrej continues pulling her along.

"We have to keep moving... Where's the others?"

Jevrem finally manages to catch up to Izet, as the two reach a stairwell. Shortly behind, the robo-worker approaches.

"C-come on... T-there has to b-be a w-way out!" Izet stutters.

"Yeah... upstairs." Jevrem grabs Izet's arm, and begins to pull him upward.

"W-why? W-we'll be t-trapped!" The robo-worker approaches... and bonks right into the bottom stair! It stares up at them neutrally.

"...Very interesting..." Jevrem notices this, staring suspiciously at the stuck pursuer.

"M-maybe z-zombies c-cannot c-climb s-stairs?" Izet offers.

"Ne... I think there is something else going on here." Contemplatively, the two kids run up the stairs.

Alfred groans, staring at the camera feed from the robo-worker's 'eyes'. "Drat. They figured out its weakness already. Well, maybe Ivan's onto something with the two loudmouths..."

He flips through the camera feeds in the control room, noticing Brenka and Andrej approaching a blast door, Ivan in pursuit. "Heh... perfect." Planning to trap them, he hits the button to close the door.

Up ahead of Brenka and Andrej, klaxons begin to blare as the door lowers in front of their escape route.

"Not good, bre! Who is doing this?!" The angry Serb looks around the room.

"Figure it out later!" Andrej runs under the door. Brenka slides under, but her šajkača is knocked off her head in the process!

"Oh ne!" She looks back, seeing the special hat under the closing door. With impressive reflexes, she reaches back, grabbing the hat right as the door slams shut! A thump can be heard as their pursuer faceplants into it.

"You... went back for a hat." Andrej raises an eyebrow, watching Brenka put the hat back on.

"...Do not disrespect my šajkača, Croatian." She gives him an angry glare that could weld a door shut. "Now come, bre. I see stairs ahead."

Andrej giggles at her, as he gets up and follows her toward the stairwell. "Heh heh, you said 'come'."

"Darn it..." Alfred mutters as he realizes his 'trap', actually trapped his partner in crime instead. He looks at the cameras, not realizing which stairwell the kids are walking up...

"And just what do you think you are doing, bre!"

"W-Who are y-you?"

"Guys, I think we found the mastermind..."

"What was your first clue, eh Jevrem?"

Alfred's face goes white as he turns around, seeing all four of the kids standing in the doorway, staring at him. "Well, shit."

"So. What was the meaning of all this?" Brenka says, pacing back and forth in front of Alfred and Ivan. The two pranksters are sitting in the middle of the control room, surrounded by the other kids.

"Do not blame me, was all Fredka's idea." Ivan points out.

"Duude..." Alfred whines, "I didn't /force/ you to come, you /wanted/ to be here!"

"W-what should w-we do?" Izet stutters out.

"You think we should dress them in something embarassing? Heh heh heh..." Andrej imagines what kind of stuff they could make the duo wear.

"...Actually, I think I have a plan." Brenka pulls out her phone, showing off a picture. "They are called opanci. Very weird shoes from my homeland. We will make you wear them to school for a month, bre!"

Ivan flinches at the sight of the ridiculous shoes, while Alfred laughs. "Hah, do your worst! I lost my dignity years ago when my older brother made me wear a tea bag costume!"

Andrej laughs, while Ivan mutters, "...phrasing."

"Not scared, huh? I can think of far worse..." The Serbian woman begins to think... her face plastered with an evil grin. "I might have some /women's clothing/ that may fit you two."

"Serby, that's dirty..." Jevrem whines.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that! I am not Srbija, bre!"

Meanwhile, Ivan's face freezes, looking over the shoulders of the Yugoslavian kids...

"You... do not belong here..."

"Whoa, dude!" Alfred laughs. "Nice work on the second ghost!"

"...Is not me, Fredka..."

Brenka and the others turn around, looking at the mysterious voice. It's coming from a man, dressed in construction gear, with a distinct translucency to him.

"Hah! This one's fake too, bre! Watch!" Brenka walks up, intending to slap the 'fake' ghost... and watches in horror as her hand passes right through, turning frosty in the process.

"Leave... now..."

"...Ohhhh ne." Brenka manages to gasp out, before the kids run away. In the process, Alfred knocks over a CD player he had set up for an earlier part of the prank. It begins to play a song, having landed on the factory intercom button...

[Essential mood music: Mystery Skulls - Ghost (MysteryBen27 Animated Version)]

"Dudes, where do we go?!" Alfred looks around.

"L-let's s-split u-up..." Izet stutters out. "I-it c-can't c-chase us a-all..."

Hearing the ghost behind them, they all bolt in different directions.

'Cause the world might do me in

Izet runs down a paper-strewn hallway, Jevrem following him.

It's alright 'cause I'm with friends

Alfred runs down the stairwell.

Guess I'm giving up again

Ivan heads down a different hallway, the ghost in hot pursuit.

It doesn't matter (Ooh ooh ooh)

Brenka and Andrej carefully make their way across a catwalk.

Had me feeling like a ghost

Alfred kicks down a door... revealing a broom closet.

And that's what I hate the most

Jevrem trips over a cardboard box, Izet helping him up as they continue.

Guess I'm giving up again

Seeing no ghost behind them, Brenka and Andrej take their time with the second catwalk, picking up speed once they're on solid flooring again.

This time, this time, this time...

Ivan finds a rusty pipe, the same one he had earlier...

This time I might just disappear

"Давай, дебил!" Ivan taunts the ghost as it approaches.

Ah yeah (Woah ooh oh oh)

The ghost leaps at Ivan, who swings the pipe. It ducks, and Ivan feels a chill through him as the ghost passes through his torso.

This time I might just dis--

Coughing, Ivan stumbles to his feet and resumes running. The ghost continues, in pursuit of someone else.

(Mo mo mo mo moah~, mo mo mo mo moah~) AH YEAH

Brenka and Andrej round a corner... right into the ghost's path! It roars at them, and they run the other way.

(Mo mo mo mo moah, oooh~) This time I might just disappear

Izet grabs onto a rope and slides down to the ground floor. Jevrem continues to run, unaware of his companion's separation.

(Woah ooh oh oh)

Alfred tries to kick another door, only for it to recoil and knock him over.

This time I might just dis--

Brenka trips over the fallen American, sliding down the hall. Andrej holds out his hand for Alfred to get up, and they follow the sliding Serb.

(Mo mo mo mo moah~, mo mo mo mo moah~) AH YEAH

Jevrem finds a hallway with portraits of the workers of the old factory. He is vaguely unsettled by this.

(Mo mo mo mo moah, oooh~)

Ivan manages to run into Izet. "Come, friend, we must continue!" He picks up the scared Bosnian, and carries him toward the central hall.

Alfred, Brenka, and Andrej reach Ivan and Izet.

"Dudes, there's no exit!"

"I am not getting killed by a ghost that doesn't exist, bre!"

"W-we m-must e-escape..."

"We WILL find way out. Come, da?"

"Hehe..." Andrej snickers.

"Not the time, dude."

A yell echoes from one hallway, while the ghost approaches from the other. The group resumes running.

Try and hear me, then I'm done

Jevrem is caught in a tangle of cables he ran into.

'Cause I might just say this once

Andrej finds him first, and pulls him out. "Did you find something, eh?"

Seen this play out in my dream

"The ghost... it doesn't match any of the pictures on the wall..."

It doesn't matter (Mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm)

Their train of thought is interrupted as the ghost shows up.

Tired of giving up the ghost

The other four enter the hallway, grabbing Jevrem and Andrej and running.

Fuck, it's YOU I hate the most

The ghost points a spectral finger at the group, yelling something in an odd language as it resumes pursuit.

Maybe there's no guarantee

"...Литовский?" Ivan mutters, before Alfred gets his attention again to keep running.

It doesn't matter

The group rounds a turn, running into a hallway filled with doors.

"Dudes, no..." Alfred groans. "I hate the bit with the doors..."

A very close-by roar makes him reconsider.

(Uuh) This time I might just disappear

All six of them run into one door, closing it behind them. The ghost opens the door and follows.

Ah yeah (Woah ooh oh oh)

Ivan and Brenka run out of the opposite door, Izet and Jevrem out of another, Alfred and Andrej out of a fourth, and the ghost comes out of the first door.

This time I might just dis--

The pairs swap room sides, the ghost phasing through Andrej to chase Izet.

(Mo mo mo mo moah~, mo mo mo mo moah~) AH YEAH

More door-shuffling occurs. A comment from Ivan about "dumb amerikanski cartoon reference" is lost in the chaos.

(Mo mo mo mo moah, oooh~) This time I might just disappear

The ghost exits a door, being chased by the four Yugoslavians. Alfred and Ivan are somehow chasing copies of themselves.

(Woah ooh oh oh)

A penguin wearing a red rubber glove on its head waddles out of a door, tripping the ghost in the process. The six kids regroup in the middle of the hall.

"...This chicken looks familiar..." Alfred mutters, only to be interrupted by the ghost standing up. The kids run back the way they came, Jevrem pointing out a 'fire exit' sign on the wall.

This time I might just dis--

"We're almost out, dudes!"

"Now are you believe in haunted factory, Serbian?"

"Okay, bre, I guess it was real!"

"T-the e-exit! C-come o-on!"

"Hehe..."

"NOT THE TIME, ANDREJ!" comes a yell from all five of the others.

(Mo mo mo mo moah~, mo mo mo mo moah~) AH YEAH

Jevrem leads them through a stairwell, going right through the control room.

(Mo mo mo mo moah, oooh~)

"Are you KIDDING ME, bre?!"

"Dude, there's my CD player!" Alfred runs over and turns it off, the music promtly halting.

"Fredka, leave it and run!" Ivan points out the ghost behind him.

"Well, crud."

All six kids roll out the fire exit, and run into the woods back into town. The ghost stops at the threshold, watching them escape, before floating back inside.

"Next year, we are go trick or treat instead, da?"

"Da."

"D-da."

"Da, yeah."

"Da, bre."

"Sure, dude."

The ghost floats back to the central hall of the factory... before reaching up, and taking its mask off. Underneath, an elderly Lithuanian man can be seen.

"Heh heh heh... Every year, it just gets more fun to do that." He begins to walk out... before stopping at a certain hallway. Curiously, he opens a door, and sticks a hand through... before staring, confused, at that same hand sticking out of a door at the other end of the hall. "What in the...?"

Deciding not to question it, he goes back and heads out the factory exit door, chuckling to himself. "Keep this up, Toris, and you'll have a haunting legacy for life..."

[thewritewolf]

Truesight Chapter 12

I remember when I was writing this chapter, I was surprised to realize it was the first actual appearance of Gabriel in my story. Maybe it’s because I like writing fluff, and where there is Gabriel, there cannot be fluff. 

Enjoy!

Read the full chapter on AO3

Adrien awoke in a cold sweat, Plagg still sleeping near his head. He put his hands to his face and tried to remember the dream that woke him up, but he only caught fleeting glimpses of the scene that was so vivid, so real just moments ago. He checked his phone for the time. Four in the morning. And he was completely awake now. Perfect.

Plagg stirred. “Turn that thing off. Some of us still have a chance to get some beauty sleep.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, but returned the room to darkness. Plagg's tiny snoring rumbled against his blonde head as he stared at the ceiling. It had been two weeks since Rena had been permanently gifted the Fox miraculous, and Christmas was fast approaching. He'd gotten presents for his (admittedly few) friends, with one notable exception. He had been struggling with what to get Marinette. It wouldn't be so difficult, except he suspected that she was making him some awesome stuff. Because of that, he didn't want to just buy her something like he did the rest of his friends – superheroes and civilians like.

Well, there was a second reason why he wanted to get her, in particular, something special, but he was barely ready to admit that to himself let alone say it out loud.

Knowing her love for fashion, he had toyed with the idea of making her clothing, and he even made some sketches. The big problem was... well, they were bad. Turns out being able to wear clothing professionally did not confer the ability to design them. Nonetheless, maybe she would find it endearing. Like a child's macaroni painting. He sighed. He had to at least try before he gave up.

He clambered out of bed, much to the irritation of Plagg. The kwami changed his tune once he had the entire, warm pillow to himself. Adrien snatched his mostly-unused sketchbook off his side table and stealthily made his way out of his room. He didn't bother dressing up – he wasn't planning on going anywhere today until late in the evening for training with the others. He frowned. We need a name for this team.

Mentally working on his names to present to the others, he sneaked into his father's typically unused workshop. There was reams of untouched fabric here, plenty of supplies, and, most importantly, a sewing machine. As he gathered up what he needed, he was reminded of a time, years ago, when he would walk into this very room and watch his father work. He hadn't been much warmer back then, but at least he hadn't minded the company.

Of course, these days, if he tried that, he was usually told that Adrien had better things to do, or that his father needed quiet so he could focus. One less connecting thread between him and his father...

He accidentally tore the fabric he was working on. He growled under his breath and started again. His father had made it look so easy, with his dexterous fingers practically dancing around the fabric, unerringly guiding the raw materials into beautiful pieces. Almost as if that was what they were destined to be from the beginning. It didn't surprise him that Marinette had looked up to Gabriel Agreste – at least, as the pinnacle of the profession she yearned to join. As she got to know him better through Adrien's infrequent allusions to his home life, she seemed to have lost a lot of her awe for his father as a person. At the very least, she didn't bring him up in conversation anymore, nor follow his fashion lines as closely.

Adrien frowned. Should he really be making people think such things about his father? He jolted as he accidentally pricked his finger. I really shouldn't let my mind wander when I'm working. Maybe that's why Marinette plays movies while she works?

He stashed that information aside with a proud grin. This task was already giving him insight into his friend's habits. Even if he completely failed to make anything, that alone was worth the hassle.

The opening of the door – and, more importantly, the familiar figure that stood there – made him reconsider. After all, if his father killed him before he could make use of this insight, then it probably hadn't been worth it.

“Adrien? What are you doing up this early? And in my workshop, no less.” His tone took on a more accusatory edge. “Rifling through my personal belongings? Again?”

Adrien winced. His father hadn't forgotten how he'd almost lost his book of inspiration – which, unbeknownst to his father, contained the accumulated lore of the miraculous. Adrien donned the proper expression when appeasing his father – cowed and deferential. “Sorry, father. A nightmare woke me up, and I couldn't get back to sleep. I wanted to see if I could use the time productively.”

Gabriel Agreste let his eyes slowly pan across the area that Adrien had been working in. His eyes narrowed at the several false starts that had been piling up beside Adrien, who grimaced as he waited for his father to pass verdict. “Why are you wasting so much fabric?”

He chafed under that question, some boldness slipping back into him. It wasn't a waste – it was for Marinette. “I'm trying to make a gift for one of my friends. I think she is making me something, so I wanted to return the favor.”

His father once again took in the small pile of ruined fabrics, then looked back at Adrien. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and seemed to at last notice Adrien's sketchbook. “Is that the design you are working from?” He nodded. “Give it to me.” Begrudgingly, he did so. His father raised an eyebrow imperiously. “A dress, hm? You are finally motivated into fashion because of a girl, then.” Adrien was about to respond when his father held up a hand to forestall him.

While Gabriel carefully examined the design, Adrien felt a sense of inadequacy bubble to the surface. Why did I think this was a good idea? Gabriel made disapproving noises as he pointed out several design flaws. “Little of this fits together to form a cohesive whole. Certain structural flaws make it so that this dress would fall apart after a few washings, or vigorous use. It would also be inconvenient to wear. And you seem to have only a rough estimate of her size. Overall, disastrous.” He looked back up at his son. “Who is this for, exactly?”

Adrien, still reeling from the frank dismissal of his design, responded glumly, “Marinette.” Some of his energy returned as he expanded on this, seeing the lack of recognition in his eyes. “She goes to my school. She won your derby hat competition?”

“Ah yes. She has a talent for design, from what I saw.” His eyebrows scrunched up in thought. “Didn't she wear the Ladybug costume that I had made for Clara Nightingale's canceled music video?”

“Yes, father.”

“It fit her like a glove, if I recall.” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait here.”

Adrien didn't respond and simply did as he was told, shoulders hunched and head hanging. He hadn't gone into this thinking that he'd make something to rival what Marinette was making for him, but now he realized how bad of an idea it was to have tried to do so at all. It would have been insulting to her to receive something so well crafted from her, only to give a shoddy dress in return. He sighed. Back to the drawing board...

Gabriel Agreste returned a few minutes later, an electronic pad in hand. “Thankfully, I still have the measurements for that design here. I can use those measurements when redesigning this dress.”

“Father? What do you mean?”

“If you still want to make this dress, then we are going to do it properly. We cannot have the Agreste name attached to anything but the most exquisite of craftsmanship – even if it is only meant as a Christmas gift. Give me a few minutes to rework your piece. I see you made it for use in spring, autumn, and winter?”

This began a barrage of questions as to Adrien's design philosophy, which, since it was largely nonexistent beyond thinking 'this would be neat,' he had to make up on the spot most of the time to avoid looking more like an idiot in front of his father. Still, the next few hours were fruitful and most of the dress was complete by the time his father had other matters to attend to. Adrien was beaming by the end. It had been peaceful, and certainly had been the longest he had interacted with his father in a long time.

By the time he had returned to his room, Plagg was... well, he was still sleeping, but he had definitely been awake at some point in the interim if the cheese wrappings were any clue. He checked his phone. Ten in the morning. Still some time before his Chinese tutor came over. He pulled out a black mass from under his bed.

He had been surprised when he found the Chat-themed (i.e. black with lime green paw prints and some images of bells scattered across it) fabric at the store. He felt obligated to get something for Marinette, both as Adrien and Chat Noir, since she had gotten something for both of them. While Adrien could give her quality dresses made from Agreste fabrics, that might be too much of a hint if it came from Chat. So it had to be something simple and unattached to the Agreste name.

When he saw the soft fabric, he had been struck by inspiration. Hence why he was now sitting on his couch, making a tie blanket. He had been slowly working on it in his limited spare time, and it was almost done. Adrien smiled to himself, thinking about how he would now get the opportunity to watch Marinette's face light up twice when he gave her these gifts.

[vroenis]

Art Created For Mood

I was watching a YouTuber I really like playing a game I really don’t like but from a developer that I also don’t like who does a thing I actually really like. That’s an opening and a half, but bear with me.

I don’t know if this book is good or not, but it’s here for the puns, and so am I. So is Max Kornell, it appears. I sure hope he’s an alright guy cos his children’s book is on my tumblr for a visual gag now.

It doesn’t matter what the game was, and it so happens it was DLC - some of you will be able to figure out what it was once I describe it, but very early on in the gameplay minutes of proceedings, the developers have the player-protagonist/avatar and your companion-of-the-moment engage in messing about in an old, abandoned fancy-dress store, picking up costumes and masks and larking about. I appreciate the YouTuber in question may have been partially or wholly playing up to the streaming audience ever-present at the time when they impatiently remarked “is this all we’re going to do” and “when do we get to actually play the game” etc.,��“when does the game start?” and so on, but as you may remember in my commentary on the Uncharted games a while back, interactions like these to someone like me are most often the most important - and now there’s no question what the game is if you haven’t figured it out already. As a side-note, I think the problem in this particular instance is one of pacing, and cold-opening the DLC with a scene like this may have been the issue. Video game pacing is tricky, tho, so it’s difficult to consider whether most players would be playing this content months after having experienced the main game, or whether the majority of players will be those who will have purchased it fresh on the newest generation of hardware, given the title actually launched a whole console iteration ago. Assuming that might be the case, the pacing experience might be entirely different, but I’m getting side-tracked.

I can’t account for what the YouTuber/Streamer was thinking and I don’t want to throw any shade and suggest they may have been performing for their audience - even if they were, it’s still fine - Streaming is performance, I feel like that much should be clearly evident. It’s not important to me where the truth lies within that individual. What the exterior performance telegraphs tho, is perhaps a misunderstanding of what the purpose of a scene like that is. I realise that in games that feature frequent occurrences of brutal violence, tension, excitement and anxiety, scenes of levity and peacefulness offer reprieve and introspection. They’re effective because of context and their rarity lends them power.

I’m still here to say a whole game of those kinds of things can still be powerful, you just have to be intelligent about the context. Reframing maturity to mean something other than violence takes real intelligence. It makes me question just how many actual adults we have developing video games. No, I don’t hate to bring it up again, but you need to play Kentucky Route Zero, Howling Dogs and a myriad of other Twine games and many other games created in queer spaces to perhaps broaden your understanding of what adults create when they don’t look to violence as a banner for maturity.

Naturally I’m going to turn to the most cliched of mediums; film.

For which I won’t apologise. That’s a frame from the montage in the middle of Mamoru Oshii’s 1995 movie Kōkaku Kidōtai - Ghost In The Shell, based on Masamune Shirow’s manga of the same name. I’d like to say that frame or the set of frames it’s taken from is one of my favourites from the film, because it is, but to be honest, the entirety of the three and a half minute montage is absolute perfection and every frame is equally important. It encapsulates the essence of the film without a single line of dialogue by playing a haunting piece of music expertly crafted by Kenji Kawai and showing seemingly disjointed images of the city in which the film is set. The film’s protagonist does appear in several shots, and some frames exhibit the city in decay, but some are completely urbane and simply show life in ordinary existence. Without discussing the main text of the film further, suffice to say it is the perfect frame for the subject of the narrative without stating it.

Before I embed the Ghost In The Shell montage, however, I want to share one Oshii created 2 years before it in Patlabor 2: The Movie. Let’s watch that one together, and even if you’ve not seen the film yourself, note in particular how topical the images are today, if you’re reading this some time around July 2020.

For those who’ve not seen the film, I highly recommend it. It’s not necessary to have seen either the series or the first Patlabor movie. It may help a little to watch the first film, mostly just to familiarise yourself with characters and terminology, but it’s not a necessity. The first film is much more comedic and while the second still has its funny moments, as evidenced in this montage, it takes a much more dramatic and sombre turn. Various domestic terrorist and military activities cause a declaration of martial law in Tokyo at roughly the mid-point of the film at which point this montage appears. The depictions of the citizenry, their interaction with the military and vice-versa are particularly interesting, and the film’s commentary as a whole is fascinating. That this has for the most part been lovingly and agonisingly rendered by hand in stunning animation detail is amazing.

Feelings are wonderful, weird, oddly shaped things. We use a lot of words in our lives, pragmatically to communicate, to instruct, to describe and tell stories. Funnily enough, when I was deeply entrenched in video games culture doing podcasts, playing a lot of games and writing a lot more about game studies etc., there was a lot of writing about the place about game verbs and it’s a great synthesis of design - a tool for describing the most simple actions in a game; move, jump, shoot, collect, talk, choose etc. In my introductory example, there are still a lot of verbs in play, like move, but the one most absent is of-course shoot, and the one that comes to the fore is talk. I feel like the scene at the beginning of that DLC is wholly intended to create a sense of atmosphere, to evoke certain feelings. Is it there to set the scene for context later on? Maybe. Is it for reprieve from violence? Also possible. But perhaps it’s just there to be relished, to be indulged. Maybe it’s OK to just be there to be felt, because feeling it is good, or even just feeling it is feeling something. Maybe it doesn’t have to be good, it’s just a different feeling to the way we feel when we’re reading an action feedback-loop where we’re engaged in move/shoot/wait/don’t die/melee/die-reload-repeat.

It’s hard for me to separate these montages from the films they come from. I want to say they’re powerful outside of the films, but I’ve seen those films so my viewings and re-viewings of them are loaded with my memories of the entire work; I have the full context. Tempted as I am to embed the montage from Ghost In The Shell 2: Innocence, I think that would be spoiling you too much, plus the film in its entirety really warrants a full viewing. Kenji Kawai’s music in the second film along deserves maximum volume and your time uninterrupted, so I won’t demean it with a tiny little window and a wall of text. I promised you the montage from the first GitS movie, so here it is, at three and a half minutes.

I’m using the word feel quite a lot in this entry and it’s intentional. In recent times, we seem to be de-emphasising our feelings somewhat and I’m all for some semblance of rationality and logic but emotions are important. Feelings are amazing - all of them. The ones that are good, the ones that are uncomfortable, the ones that are uncontrollable. I guess some folks try to talk about understanding feelings and there’s a little truth in that but I don’t think it’s something we can ever fully get a complete hold of, nor should we. I’m not here to attempt to provide you guidance on that, I think if you’re reading this, you’re well capable of gauging for yourself what the impact is of your emotions to your life and what you may need to do about it. Don’t read an implication that I mean to diminish their impact, either - you may well need to amplify their impact, I think a lot of people don’t consider that - now more than ever, but again, I wouldn’t know. You would. Only you do.

Anyway - I feel like a lot of art and moments in art, or sections of art, are being misinterpreted or criticised because people aren’t open to the intent. Again I come back to the example in the opening to this entry. Assuming on good faith that the YouTuber’s/Streamer’s behaviour was genuine, their reading of the activity in the game was that it was somehow not game, and that until there was either shooting or puzzling or adventuring of some kind, that those things would be actually game or real gameplay does that scene and activity a disservice. Of-course, maybe they just straight-up didn’t like it which is fair. I accept that, I guess - but I don’t like it.

It still bothers me tho. Even tho I really don’t like that game, I understand that the point of it is to ground the narrative in very human roots, in emotional engagement so that the character has something to celebrate, to cherish fondly, or even perhaps to regret or look back on with bitterness or anger. Regardless - even if it doesn’t have a payoff in the future, I still feel like it’s important as a representation of human behaviour in a game in which human avatars are depicted. The images on screen within that video game are for the most part not abstract. The themes shown and the narrative woven about their journey, their motivations, the justifications for their actions and the moralising therein within the fictional framework of the universe are all extremely human and intended to be analogous to the real human experience. 

That being the case, on that assumption, I’m surprised and even more disappointed that there aren’t more non-violent indulgences of peaceful human interactions on offer in these games.

People’s tastes in films, I guess, has been quite monolithic for some time. I mean, I’ve always had the throw-away semi-casual assumption of such but I didn’t think it was a real thing. I appreciate I’m into some fringe stuff and I don’t expect most people to get into the super-weird films, but that folks would be so narrow? Like... so narrow. I’ve said it before, I’m well accustomed to the art I’m into being heavily criticised by most people, but even the more approachable material I’m into, people seem to either struggle to digest or still regard as boring because it doesn’t register on some level of excitement that scales on a weird, reductive verb-o-meter not dissimilar to video games designed with the fewest of verbs; move, shoot and collect. Sometimes a film isn’t necessarily about what’s literally happening on the screen, or strictly about the narrative playing out. Sometimes art is about how you feel when you experience it - we’ve quite literally been describing art, in particular music, as mood pieces for years, and for quite some time now, video games. 

In film, David Lynch is a master at it to name only one, and there are a ton of others. You don’t have to immediately have to be able to process his narratives, your first concern is to how you feel when you view his films. The pragmatics can - and often do - come later. Once you familiarise yourself with his cinematic language of emotional tone and atmosphere, you may find that his narratives are actually quite simple and they quite easily make sense - they’re artfully told and are injected with immense feeling because they’re told in such unique and emotional ways.

How do you go about choosing a frame from David Lynch’s Mulholland Dr.?

I tend not to discuss general release films much - I don’t have any particular distaste for them at all, I’ve mentioned that I have a great appreciation for them but if there’s any way I can speak to the emotional responses I have to them, it’s that in a broader sense, most of my responses are more or less the same. That’s why I don’t really talk about them. Their impact to me and how I engage with art in my life is minimal. That doesn’t mean I don’t think they’re important in the world culturally or that I discount their cultural importance to others - not at all. If they’re important to you, then that’s wonderful and amazing and you should celebrate them. Nevertheless, there’s also a place for independent cinema and art and creating things that don’t directly speak to the most transparent of feelings. I understand that the audience is smaller and the financial availability is going to have to be smaller - that’s OK, but mood pieces are special and amazing and weird and sometimes indescribable and maybe you should give them a try because they can make you feel real strange and sometimes strange feelings can be powerful too.

Once in a while, some folks do make something that is super approachable and bridges that magical gap between indescribable emotion and mood, and audiences that need the most gentle of entry-points. I think Thatgamecompany’s video game Journey has to be one of the best examples of a work that transcends and overcomes a lot of barriers by removing so many obstacles not only typical of video games but art in general. It’s a truly gorgeous experience, and one that is uniquely evocative not only for its own but any medium.

While I’m sure there where throngs of mouth-breathers who flocked to reddit et al to decry Journey as NOTAGAME™, there were plenty of people who found themselves disarmed by its approach to play, playfulness, narrative and emotion. While you can watch a full play-thru video of the game, once-again I do encourage you to actually play the game itself altho so far from its release, there may be a critical component of the experience missing. A minor spoiler; central to the game is a sense of connection and yet separation. Lead designer Jenova Chen at the time was dismayed by online gaming behaviour and that engagement between players was so so toxic - it remains so today. He wanted a way for players to connect but not be able to be harmful and hateful to one another. The game will actually pair players together via online services, but there is no VOIP or text communication utility at all, nor can you see the username of whom you’re liked to. There is almost no way to communicate, save for a single button that will emit a musical note and an abstract symbol above your character’s head - that’s it. Beyond that, you may freely move about the world together, choosing to follow one-another or separate and ignore each other. That is the extent of interaction, and when the game launched in 2012, we discovered this together as a community - it was amazing and breathtaking, especially as the whole experience unfolded.

If Jenova Chen and his team at Thatgamecompany can teach people who usually shoot heads that moods can be engaged in and enjoyed with Journey, I feel like people have the ability to identify all forms of art that does the same. Art that deviates from the usual MO of fulfilling our usual roster of base needs. I’m not denigrating mass-market art by describing base needs -  not at all. Base needs are hella important, but if the violence in The Last of Us gives the reprieve of giraffes context, surely the base needs of mass-market art does the same for mood pieces?

This is a frame from Exit (2011) directed by Marek Polgar and you should 100% find it and watch it.

These are some of the more fringe works I’m into, if you’re particularly daring. I’ve no doubt that someone will find them pedestrian and that’s fine. At some point, tho, people have to be able to either go to a shop a buy it, or at least find it online somewhere, so I’m sure the video your mate from uni made is the highest of couture art, but if no-one other than you and ten friends have seen it, it legit doesn’t count ay.

By the way - these are all listed in Film Notes, but I’ll lazylink their IMDB pages here so you can see how bad their audience scores are.

Tokyo.Sora (come-on, it’s my favourite film of all time) Exit (OK so as much as I was being facetious just before, this is going to be difficult to track down, but worth it if you can) Womb (CW: incest) The Sky Crawlers (my favourite of Mamoru Oshii’s) The Limits Of Control To The Wonder (I know - Malick, but I feel like if you’re going to try one, try this - shorter, more intimate, less abstract - I find it’s his most tender) Holy Motors (be thankful I’m linking Carax and not Noé/Void or Climax)