#are now valuable antiques

[marzipanandminutiae]

also someone on that post of McMansion getting renovated into a different McMansion was like "people who love old things don't realize that a lot of it was just cheap mass-produced stuff like the furniture and household goods they hate today!!!!"

and like. okay. there are articles on how cheap mass-produced stuff has gotten worse in just the last ten years. is it really that hard to believe that it was vastly better-made 100+ years ago?

also that should make MORE of an impact, I think, than simply assuming it's all the same as exquisite artist-crafted furniture in mansions. even the equivalent of Wish.com housewares in the 19th century were often 100X more durable than what we have today

(and no, that doesn't mean Western Society BetterTM or anything else the marble statue PFPs spout. forms of mass production happened in many societies, from cheap ceramics made in China and Japan for export to copies of ancient grave goods made in Egypt and the Mediterranean during archaeological revival crazes)

I have been living in Working or Middle-Class People's Apartments c. 1910-1920 for the past ten years. one of them was just rendered uninhabitable by fire, but a surprising number of the walls and doors were still standing. I firmly believe you could run a tank into those radiators and not damage them. things WERE often better-made in Ye Olden Times, and it doesn't make one ignorant or a Trad to say so

[siena-sevenwits]

:-)

[merchen-aeravellae]

A Yandere Through Time

Yandere Time Traveler x Royal Reader

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, forced confinement, obsession

No one knows who created it, but every owner of the mysterious mirror has met a fate so tragic it chills anyone to the bone. The mirror appeared out of nowhere, wandering from hand to hand, from life to life. At first glance, it seems like a blessing, but in reality, it is a curse in disguise. If you cross paths with it, beware: it offers you your deepest desire, but the price is your sanity.

°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●

Yandere Time Traveler who is dedicated to collecting antiques, a passion that has been passed down through generations in his family since the famous Rosa Era. Each member of his lineage has their own personal museum. His collection not only includes legally acquired pieces but also artifacts that the world does not know exist and are in his possession.

Yandere Time Traveler who is mainly dedicated to purchasing items from the Roja Era, not because it is his favorite time period, but because his favorite person lived during that time. The fifth child of a king who ruled what is now his city, the castle where they lived still stands proudly on the outskirts of the city, now converted into a museum that he visits weekly as a way to be close to his beloved

Yandere Time Traveler who has been intrigued by your story since childhood: a member of the royal family beloved by his family, the common people, and even his enemies. One day, you disappeared from your own home, and no one ever heard from you again. Everyone searched exhaustively for decades but never found you. A group of people tried to exploit the situation by impersonating you to gain all the luxuries and privileges that rightfully belonged to you. Only one person resembled you both in appearance and manner of speaking. The only problem was that nearly 70 years had passed since your disappearance, and this person was too young to be you. In the end, their husband had to clarify that they were suffering from mental issues, and as a result, no one took them seriously.

Yandere Time Traveler who feels like a lunatic: how could he be in love with someone who lived nearly two hundred years ago? However, he has always felt a connection to you, and the only way he finds to be near you is by acquiring all your belongings through illegal auctions. Selling and buying items related to you is prohibited in his country; museums tirelessly search for all your belongings across the continent to display them alongside those of your family. But he is faster and acquires everything before the museums can get their hands on it.

Yandere Time Traveler who, of all your belongings, has searched the black markets most fervently for your hat. In the Roja Era, royalty did not use crowns to show their lineage; instead, they used special and unique hats to demonstrate their noble position. The hats of your sisters and brothers are in the castle museum, but yours was never found. The theory is that you wore it the day you disappeared, and wherever you are, the hat is with you.

Yandere Time Traveler who acquired a mirror from an antique shop during a sale. He didn't know what era it was from, but its beauty convinced him to place it in the room dedicated to you. The mirror carried a dark legend: all its owners ended up losing their sanity or disappearing without a trace. However, he was not intimidated, believing it was just people's tales. He was sure you would have been fascinated by it, imagining you using it to admire your reflection while trying on clothes.

Yandere Time Traveler who, one night, woke up startled by strange noises coming from a nearby room. With silent steps, he approached to discover the source of the sound, but his concern grew when he realized the noises were coming from the room dedicated to his beloved. He immediately thought someone had broken in to steal something from his valuable collection. Wasting no time, he grabbed a bat he had purchased a couple of weeks ago, perfect for defending himself against an intruder. Upon entering the room, he found no one, but the mirror looked different. Strange figures were forming on its surface, and he couldn't resist the temptation to touch it. It was as if the mirror was calling to him. However, the moment his fingers brushed against the glass, he lost consciousness.

Yandere Time Traveler who woke up with a terrible headache. As he opened his eyes, he realized he was lying on a wooden bed that creaked with the slightest movement. The room was unfamiliar, filled with objects that didn’t match his home. The walls were made of wood. Various items adorned the space, from wooden toys to old tools, along with portraits and simple household decorations. As his vision adjusted, he noticed a small window allowing the morning sunlight to illuminate the room. The smell of wax, burnt wood, and a faint scent of food filled his nose.

Yandere Time Traveler who panicked. He tried to get out of the bed to figure out where he was, but only succeeded in worsening his headache from the sudden movement. He heard footsteps coming toward him. Fear took over as he desperately looked for something to defend himself with. But before he could act, the door opened, and an old woman entered the room, calmly looking at him.

Yandere Time Traveler who discovered that he was in the house of an elderly couple. They had found him unconscious at their doorstep and, out of compassion, had taken care of him ever since. Maybe he had gone mad because nothing made sense. The date on the calendar in their house showed that it was 200 years before his own time. It wasn’t possible that he had traveled to the past. Maybe he had hit his head, and all of this was just a delusion, a hallucination caused by the injury. Perhaps he was in a hospital, in a coma, dreaming a nonsensical fantasy.

Yandere Time Traveler, unable to find a way back to his own time, was now trying to adjust to his new life. The elderly couple who had taken him in gave him work in their small antique shop and allowed him to live in their home. In return, he had to handle the heavier tasks, like feeding the animals, repairing anything that broke, and keeping the shop in order.

Yandere Time Traveler was organizing some items in the shop when he heard the bustle of a crowd outside. The voices and shouting filled the street, but he didn’t even bother looking out the window. He didn’t care what celebration or festival was taking place outside. Everything went quiet for a while until the shop bell rang. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone, but it was his job. With a fake smile, he greeted the customers who had entered.

Yandere Time Traveler was startled to see a familiar face. It wasn’t someone he had met in person, but someone he had seen in portraits—it was the crown princess of Adrionia. Adrionia was the name of his city when the monarchy still existed. Although he knew he was in the Roja Era, he never imagined he would meet a member of the royal family in a place like this. The heir was about to speak when a pair of voices interrupted from the hallway in front of them.

Yandere Time Traveler who was shocked to see the rest of the royal siblings there. His heart swelled with longing; if they were here, it meant that you must also be here. He couldn't help but search for you among the crowd, but he couldn’t find you. His hope deflated into sadness, until someone emerged from one of the back hallways, holding a trinket in their hands.

Yandere Time Traveler who wanted to die right then and there—you were standing before him, the love of his life. As you asked your sister to buy the trinket for you, he couldn’t help but admire you. You were even more beautiful in person; the paintings didn’t do you justice. He wanted to leap over the counter to be closer to you, but he knew if he did that, he'd be thrown into the dungeon. All he could do was watch you from where he stood, his heart pounding at a thousand miles an hour.

Yandere Time Traveler who felt you so close, yet so unattainable. As he rang up your sister’s purchase, he never took his eyes off you for a second. He watched you with a mix of fascination and desperation, knowing that this might be the only time he’d ever be so near you. And just as you had appeared, you left. His world crumbled with each step you took toward the exit, moving further away from him.

Yandere Time Traveler who couldn’t stop thinking about you after that encounter. His heart filled with yearning to see you again. Now that he had seen you in the flesh, he couldn't allow everything to end with just one brief meeting. He needed to see you once more, needed you in his life in a more permanent, closer way. But he knew he couldn’t just approach you without a plan—and for that, he needed to scheme carefully.

Yandere Time Traveler who decided to use his knowledge of the past to his advantage. He began calling himself a prophet and would go out to the town square to “predict” events he already knew would happen soon. At first, people looked at him with skepticism, and many called him crazy. But when his predictions started coming true with eerie accuracy, everything changed. Word spread throughout the kingdom about his visions, and people gathered in the square to hear him speak. It wasn’t long before the royals heard of him and summoned him to the castle. Everything was going according to plan.

Yandere Time Traveler who was tested by the court, but he was ready for whatever challenge came his way. He “predicted” the betrayal of a court member, and a week later, a respected and seemingly unblemished noble was discovered stealing large sums from the royal treasury. The impressed kings offered him a permanent position at the castle. His goal was now within reach. Every day, he grew closer to you. He knew you better than you knew yourself and was confident that soon you would fall in love with him.

Yandere Time Traveler who, over time, befriended the royal family, but you were different. You seemed deeply distrustful of him. Every time he tried to approach you, you fled. If he entered a room through the door, you left through the window. The more frequent these encounters became, the more frustrated he felt. He left you gifts, but you discarded them. The letters he sent, you burned in the fireplace. And every time he tried to speak to you, you ignored him. Couldn’t you see that destiny was bringing you together? Why did you run from him as if he carried some contagious disease?

Yandere Time Traveler who knew he had to be patient, but every moment away from you felt like a blow to the heart. Then, during a casual meeting with your brothers, everything he had worked for unraveled. Without meaning to, your brother let it slip that you were seeing someone in secret—a mere guard, someone far beneath him. He had to keep his composure; he couldn’t afford to break his facade in front of them. But all he wanted to do was rush out and bury that filthy man deep in the earth.

Yandere Time Traveler who now understood everything. You had always rejected his efforts because you already had someone in your life. The idea of you being with someone else was unbearable. Every touch, every word shared between you and that guard ignited a wildfire of jealousy within him. Just thinking about it made him feel sick. He needed to devise a new plan, so he decided to accuse your lover of trying to seduce you to rise in high society. The kings were furious with both you and your lover. The execution seemed imminent. However, something unexpected happened. On your knees, you begged your parents, saying it was all a misunderstanding. At other times, he would have loved to hear your voice, but at that moment, he wished you'd be quiet. You were ruining his plan and breaking his heart as he watched you plead for another man.

Yandere Time Traveler had to leave the castle for a few days; the whole situation was overwhelming him, and he feared he might do something that would compromise his facade. He returned to the shop where he had worked at the beginning. The old man greeted him cheerfully, happy to see him after such a long time. While the older man talked about everything that had happened in his absence, he wandered around the shop, looking at the new antiques that had arrived, hoping to distract his mind. Suddenly, something caught his attention: a mirror that seemed too familiar, sitting in a corner. He now knew how it had ended up in the couple's home. As he stared at it, an idea formed in his mind: "If I couldn't have you in your world, maybe I could in mine." With that thought in mind, he decided to buy the mirror, flashing a disturbing smile.

Yandere Time Traveler returned to the castle with his new treasure, eager to figure out how it worked as soon as possible, though it was easier said than done. It was during a fit of rage that he grabbed the bat he had brought with him to smash objects and vent his frustration. You had convinced your parents that your lover was a good man, and they had allowed you to marry him. He should have been that man, the one who would marry you, but his place had been taken. After breaking several objects in his fury, he left the bat leaning against the mirror and stormed out of the room, not noticing that the reflection in the mirror had begun to change.

Yandere Time Traveler who could only watch as you prepared for your wedding felt as if you were mocking him. Unable to bear it any longer, he retreated to his room to devise a plan. He would not let anyone else have you. Upon entering, he found something magnificent: the portal in the mirror was in all its glory. He gazed at the bat and suddenly, the idea of how it worked came to him. He had been so foolish; the answer was so simple, and he hadn’t seen it before. Now, you would be where you belonged, by his side, living in his own time, where you could never escape.

Yandere Time Traveler who sent you a letter pretending to be your brother to get you to the library. If you had known it was him, you never would have gone to meet him. The mirror was positioned in such a way that you couldn’t see it at a glance, and he would ambush you from behind. Hearing your footsteps approaching down the hallway, you entered and called out for your brother. He stood momentarily stunned, witnessing something he never thought he’d see: you were wearing your hat, the object he had longed to see all his life. But that feeling quickly faded when, angrily, you yelled at your "brother" to come out of hiding because you had a date with your fiancé and needed to leave immediately. The mention of the other man and the fact that you wore something as significant as your hat just to see his rival gave him the strength to push you into the portal, following closely behind.

Yandere Time Traveler who woke up on a floor that seemed familiar, was back in his own home. He watched as you lay unconscious beside him, and since he had already gone through the experience of the portal, he managed to get up before you. He reinforced all exits to ensure you couldn’t escape and then let you rest in what would now be his shared bedroom. Hours later, he heard a blood-curdling scream. He rushed to his room, but you were not there. He found you in the room he had dedicated exclusively to you. You tried to escape, but seeing such a room had frightened you so much that you couldn’t help but scream.

Yandere Time Traveler who pretended everything was fine for a while. You stayed at home while he went to work. It didn’t matter that you did nothing all day; he believed your hands weren’t meant for work. He preferred to do everything himself to keep you content. One night, upon returning from work, he noticed something strange: the house felt too silent. Although he was convinced there was no way you could have escaped, his home felt empty. He searched every corner, but there was no sign of your presence. As he pondered where you could be, his gaze fell on the mirror.

Yandere Time Traveler who had underestimated you. You had managed to find a way to use the mirror while he was away, but he already had an idea of where you might be. Using the mirror, he traveled 70 years after the date of your disappearance. True to his assumption, he quickly found you; everyone knew you for trying to claim that you were the missing royal member, even though that was now impossible. He approached you slowly from behind while you were talking to a couple of people, trying to convince them of your identity. He placed an arm around your shoulders, noticing how your skin prickled. He was too angry to care about the effect he was having on you. With a fake worried look, he explained to the people that you were his fiancée, but that you were suffering from dementia. The people left, leaving the two of you alone.

Yandere Time Traveler who took you back to his time, determined not to make the same mistake. With the bat he had used earlier, he gathered all his strength and smashed the mirror into pieces while you screamed for him to stop. His rage was relentless; he hit the mirror so many times that it became irreparable. When he finished, he embraced you while you cried out loud, knowing that your only escape had been destroyed. He tried to comfort you, whispering soothing words, but his attempts at calm only had the opposite effect. Every whisper and every caress only heightened your desperation, reminding you that you were now trapped with a lunatic, with no hope of returning.

Yandere Time Traveler "No matter what era you're in, I will always find a way to find you."

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Now, here's a prime example of how rare, valuable, antiques get thrown away. This was on a site for shaming architecture, when the owners clearly preserved their Victorian shower. Luckily, several people set them straight.

Here is one of the comments:

"The stuff people put on here to ridicule, unfortunately just shows me how ignorant folks are. So, pls go back to whatever generic 'modern' bs you think is so great, and learn a hot minute about design & history. This was called a rib cage shower, and was brilliantly, walled off from the wood window sash. As I said, it was quite the indulgence in its day."

They were beautiful and probably only in the wealthiest Victorian homes. Yet, developers & flippers think they're ugly and don't understand the history. They get torn out and thrown in the dumpster when they should be sold to an architectural salvage yard.

[adiradirim]

Sephardic Jews from Thessaloniki in their traditional costumes, in the city’s old cemetery, before the war // a contemporary photo that shows where the destroyed cemetery once was, which is now Greece's largest university, built partially on top of and with land and materials (particularly tombstones) stolen from the razed site.

Thessaloniki or Salonika, once referred to as “the Jerusalem of the Balkans” due to its Ladino-speaking Jewish majority, saw roughly 96% of its Jewish population murdered during the Holocaust. This mass destruction extended to the city's Jewish cemetery, which had been the country's largest, established in the 15th century and housing hundreds of thousands of Jewish graves until its razing by city authorities who had long desired to repurpose the land and resented the inconvenience of Jewish presence. Despite its large-scale destruction during German occupation in 1942, which was initiated and carried out primarily by Thessaloniki authorities with Nazi consent and arrangement, some parts of the cemetery survived intact as late as 1947. Many tombstones were subsequently appropriated and used by city authorities and the Greek Orthodox Church. After the war, people were still carrying away Jewish gravestones each day and regularly looting the cemetery in search of valuables. The city's officials, led by their mayor, completed the cemetery's destruction and sold the tombstones to contractors for use as building materials in various projects; as such many were and are still found in various walls, roads, structures, and churches around the city. A 1992 commemorative book pictures Greek schoolgirls playing Hamlet with skulls and other bones they found in the cemetery.

“[T]he ‘rape’ of the cemetery escalated, marble flooded the market, and its price plummeted. Jewish tombstones were stacked up in mason’s yards and, with the permission of the director of antiquities of Macedonia and overseen by the metropolitan bishop and the municipality, used to pave roads, line latrines, and extend the sea walls; to construct pathways, patios, and walls in private and public spaces though out the city, in suburbs such as Panorama and Ampelokipi, and more than sixty kilometers away in beach towns in Halkidiki, where they decorated playgrounds, bars, and restaurants in hotels; to build a swimming pool – with Hebrew-letter inscription visible; to repair the St. Demetrius Church and other buildings...” Devin Naar, Jewish Salonica: Between the Ottoman Empire and Modern Greece

Most of the efforts to return found tombstones throughout the city are led by Jews, particularly Jacky Benmayor, the curator of the Jewish Museum and last Ladino speaker in Greece, who has personally recovered hundreds of tombstones including his own family's. Surviving Greek Jews never received compensation for the confiscation of the land under the destroyed cemetery, upon which now partially rests Greece's largest university, Aristotle University, which also used Jewish gravestones as building material for its long-coveted expansion finally made possible by the dispossession and annihilation of the city's Jews. In 2014, 72 years after the cemetery's destruction and appropriation, a small memorial was established on campus grounds to acknowledge the Jewish cemetery the school is built on and with; the ceremony just 10 years ago involved the first-ever acknowledgement of the atrocities and apology from a Thessaloniki mayor. The memorial has been vandalised multiple times since its establishment.

[katerinaaqu]

Did Odysseus have horses or not? (An Iliad and Odyssey Analysis)

This little thing came from a post made by @wolfythewitch and my response in regards to some Cephallenian horses that can still be found to Kephallonia to this day: see here So here is a more extensive analysis on the question of horses and Ithaca or the kingdom of the Cephallenians in general

So as we know from antiquity, horses are known to be a sign of nobility, proof of status and of course a valuable animal for work such as farming or war. Horses play a very important role in the homeric poems with of course the most infamous example of all the Trojan Horse that was the symbol of Troy and became its destruction. Many heroes have had the pseudonym "tamer of horses" including Diomedes and Hector.

It seems also that horses are linked most to some of the richest and most powerful kingdoms are shown to have beautiful or good horses. For example except for Troy that as also linked to god Poseidon and thus to the sumbol of Horse, we also see Argos be famous for the horses (and king Diomedes earning his name from it) or even Sparta (Menelaus providing horses to Telemachus which are praised) and Pylos when Nestor also provides Telemachus and Peisistratus with horses.

But what about Ithaca?

As mentioned above and as others mentioned before me, it seems that Ithaca, the tiny rugged place Odysseus speaks about does not seem to have terrains that are capable of hosting horses like wide plains or wide and smooth roads where horses can trot freely or graze. The existence of animals for work as well seems to be touched in post-homeric sources such as Hyginus Fabulae where we see the infamous story of Odysseus pretending madness. He ties to his plow a donkey and a cow instead. Both of the animals are more frequent for plowing fields or carrying loads especially donkeys and mules that are still famous in Greece and greek islands and they are known for being capable of marching across the wild terrains and uphill paths.

Ironically, or not so much, Ithaca seems to have a lack of horses according to Telemachus himself for when Menelaus offers him parting gifts, including horses, Telemachus replies to him thus:

However the horses I shall not take with me to Ithaca but I shall leave them to you, with your permission (lit: to your glory): for you are a king of wide fields, rich in clove and galingale and plenty of wheat that is dicocum and white. However in Ithaca there are neither wide roads nor grassy meadows; place that is fit for goats to walk and graze on rather than horses. For no island that leans in the salt (here: sea) is fit for riding and grazing horses: Ithaca least of all.

(Translation by me)

So here Telemachus seems to imply that not only most of silands have unfriendly terrain for horses but also that Ithaca is "least of all". Now there are a couple of things here that are toned out:

Ithaca is described as a ragged place by Odysseus as well when he speaks on his homeland to the Phaeaces and even nowadays it is indeed true that Ithaca has more mountain plains than wide fields given how small the island is as well and in general Greece is over 80% mountains anyways.

Homer makes Telemachus speak on how Ithaca is the "least of all" suitable for horses. Probably that is a small hyperbole. For starters maybe one could speak on "least of all" in the islands of the Ionian sea instead, which Telemachus probably is familiar with because islands in the Aegean sea are much dryer and uphill than the islands on the Ionian sea so it is probably a hyperbole used by Homer to show how unsuitable Ithaca is for riding horses or comparing them to islands of the Ionian sea instead (because see for example an image of Folegandros which has even less greenery for horses to feed on:

However the image that Ithaca is probably boarderline hostile for horses and riding is also linked to the fact on how Ithaca is often perceived as a land rich in certain products such as olives or fruit trees (due to the mild climate) but a generally poorer island and kingdom compared to others like Mycenae, Argos or Sparta. When Telemachus visits Sparta is is mesmerized by her beauty and richness.

Even if we do have examples in Ithaca that show that Ithaca is not a weak or penniless kingdom (Penelope sits on a chair with ivory which is an exotic material very hard to find or Odysseus leaves for war wearing a crimson woolen mantle that is decorated with a golden brooch. Both gold and the color crimson were extremely valuable. For example crimson pigmentation is found only at the shells that come from the east so it would require good economy to obtain) Ithaca is by general idea a poorer and less powerful kingdom than the rest (Odysseus is one of the kings that brings the least amount of ships with him at the number of 12 and around 603 men in total including himself)

The absense of horses or the hint that Ithaca does not breed horses at all, according to some readings of the passage, is also linked to the lack of powerful status for the kingdom. The kingdom itself is not one of the great powerful kingdoms of Greece like his peers from Mycenae or Argos and the fact that a status symbol like Horses is absent is rather interesting way to show that. In fact Ithaca seems to gain fame by its people rather than its political power.

(See how Odysseus calls the island κουροτρόφο aka "nurturer of men". Odysseus implies that the importance of his kingdom is not to the status symbols but to its people and their braveness)

But can we really talk on complete absence of horses in Odysseus's life?

Cephallonia's Semi-wild Horses:

As I mentioned to the post I reblogged under @wolfythewitch post we do seem to have a breed of horses to the area. The horses are being left to roam about according to an ancient custom because Cephallonia has no much space to keep them so the farmers do tame them but leave them roam free to the plains and now they are part of the national park of Aenus mountain:

These horses have been adapted to ride perfectly well to the rough rocky terrains of the mountain. Now of course the breed was probably imported from the mainland (most likely from Pindos mountains). Cephallonia has also been suggested as the location of the homeric Ithaca (and the giver of name of his kingdom) due to the fact that it deprives from homeric description that Cephallonia was "the most far western island" or, as I would probably be willing to believe, that maybe the land of modern Ithaca and Cephallonia were connected by land at that time (take that hypothesis with a grain of salt but I think it is highly possible) other locations suggested were even Lefkas for they discovered Mycenaean remains there

It is of course unclear when these horses enter the terrain. Itis possible that the horses arrive way after the bronze age that Odysseus ellegedly lived or even after Homer's time even, if Homer doesn't mention them or mentions that horses are not possible to grow in Ithaca.

It could also be, though, that homer completely dispatches horses from Ithaca to that degree again to point out the difference of status between Ithaca and Sparta. And, another totally wild guess, is also interesting how the animal symbol of Poseidon is absent from the island of Ithaca to the poem that speaks about the hubris of Odysseus against Poseidon and the god's wrath against him! Food for thought! XD

No horses in Ithaca doesn't necessarily mean Cephallinians had no horses at all:

Another thing that people often forget is that Odysseus was not king of Ithaca only. The kingdom of Cephallenians was a kingdom that spread over several islands AND part of the mainland where modern day Aitoloakarnania is:

The kingdom is not limited to the island of Ithaca only. Acarnania is also a wide area. Horses can possibly be bred there and also be providing the islands if needed. It is interesting because Odysseus is not only in posession of a chariot in the Iliad but he also seems perfectly capable of riding horses. In the Iliad for example both he and Diomedes steal the Thracian Horses in rhapsody 10:

So she spoke and he (Diomedes) recognized the goddess's voice and swiftly jumped on the horses: Odysseus smote them with his bow and they trotted towards the fast ships of the Achaeans

(Translation by me)

Interestingly Homer uses the 3rd singular of the verb: ἐπεβήσετο (he rode) but then proceeds using the 3rd plural ἐπέτοντο (they flew/rode away). So what could it be? Could it be perhaps that Odysseus jumped on the horse behind Diomedes and smote it with his bow to start trotting away? In that case we could speak indeed on the fact that clearly Diomedes was a better rider than Odysseus given that he is more familiar with horses. However if both of them ride away that means that Odysseus is not completely oblivious of horses he just doesn't seem to be so capable with them indeed. In fact the first is rather confirmed at the passage that follows soon after:

Then Odysseus beloved to Zeus restrained the quick horses, while the son of Tydeus jumped on the ground, placing the bloody spoils to the hands of Odysseus and once more he rode the horses; hitting them with a whip and nothing stopped them from flying to the hollow ships, as they so much wished to be.

(Translation by me)

So in this scene Diomedes seems to be the protagonist, being more knowledgable on horses (he is the one who rides first and trots) while Odysseus plays a more auxiliary role (steeds and holds the horses or holds the spoils in hand) but he doesnt seem completely oblivious to the exietence or treatment of horses. He both knows how to restrain and steer them but he is also in posession of a chariot with which he fights in the Iliad and covers the retreat of Diomedes and later that same chariot comes to pick him up from the battle (see rhapsody 11).

Conclusions:

So Homer seems to be sticking to the notion that horses are not widedly used in Ithaca or the rest of the kingdom due to its rough terrain. Not only does Telemachus speak of it but we also see the image in Iliad where Odysseus is clearly not as capable rider as Diomedes given how while they trot away. Of course needs to be noted how the horses are often depicted unbriddled and without a saddle in the artwork so it is also interesting to think that Odysseus wouldn't be able to ride without equipment while Diomedes who is more familiar with horses he has no problem.

Odysseus seems to stick more to chariots than horse riding which also indicates that he is not familiar with horse riding to that extent or that he is not particularly confident in it, however he seems capable of doing it.

The existence of the horse breed in Cephallonia as well as the fact that the kingdom also involves the mainland could indicate that horses were not unknown to the Cephallenians just not widedly used. Odysseus speaks many times on horses and their beauty and strength so he is familiar with them and he can judge (bet he also learnt a bunch from his fellow kings like Diomedes and the idea of Diomedes showing Odysseus even more stuff about horses sounds a cute image doesn't it!?) but from the incidents such as the one from the Iliad, suggest that he is not confident rider.

His knowledge seems less extensive compared to his knowledge on other stuff such as sheep and goats (he praises the flock of Polyphemus for example, elemet that I also used to my retelling/one-shot fic "Escape from Cyclops Island: Hubris") or stars and navigation so indeed even if he does have knowledge on riding or chariots he is not very confident in it.

So I tend to be somewhere in the middle; I don't believe that the Cephallinians had no horses at all or that they had no idea on horses (Telemachus himself has some knowledge after all since he mentions immediately to Menelaus that his gift would be unsuitable for his land) it is just that if they can host horses it is just some very sturdy and adaptable ones like the ones used at mountain passages and even those were not widedly used. They would probably have more mules or donkeys for transportation like it happens to mountain terrains and use more cattle as farming animals. The use of horses must have been very scarce to the point of providing them general knowledge but not as widedly used as in other places

But what do you guys think? Let me know!

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Azul Ashengrotto - Luxe Couture Vignette

"Please come this way"

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Azul: …Now, now, don't say that!

Azul: I would be honored if you would come by the Mostro Lounge to come see my photo with Eric-san.

Vil: I'm staggered. You would not only use my father, but also myself to increase your reputation?

Grim: Oh hey, if it ain't Vil and Azul. What're you guys talkin' about?

Azul: We just happened to come across each other over here, so we were merely chatting about plans once we return to campus. Have the two of you been shopping?

1. I bought some clothes for myself.

Azul: You bought clothing at the Crystal Galleria? You must be a better shopper than I thought.

2. I bought some gifts for everyone back home.

Azul: A wonderful sentiment. Keeping people in your debt is very valuable.

Azul: I myself just finished purchasing some cosmetics. After this, I plan on perusing some tableware.

Grim: Huh, tableware? Don't really matter what gets used, to me.

Grim: The food 'n drinks're waaay more important than the plates 'n cups.

Azul: I fully believed that would be your response, Grim-san.

Vil: I absolutely adore that sort of dedication. The more opulent the tableware, the more sophisticated the mealtime becomes.

Vil: Weren't the plates, cups, and cutlery at the restaurant we dined at yesterday utterly sublime?

Grim: I don't remember a thing about 'em.

Vil: ...Right, I was a fool for even asking that in the first place.

Azul: The golden rimmed white porcelain plates at that restaurant was indeed spectacular.

Azul: Decorated in both matte and glossy gold, these surely were high-quality wares. A rare sight, indeed.

Vil: Well, now. You're well informed, Azul.

Vil: It may be interesting to shop for tableware with someone who actually knows a thing or two. I'll join you.

Azul: Why, certainly. Would you like to join us, [Yuu]-san?

1. I'd like to. 2. I'm definitely interested.

Grim: 'Kay, then I'll tag along too, then. But anyway, do they even sell stuff like that here?

Vil: Of course. Fine ceramic wares are yet another major product of the Fairest City. There are also many antique shops.

Grim: Uh-huh. So it's not just make-up 'n clothes 'n food, huh.

Azul: It is said that there were 3 primary factors that led to the development of those fine ceramic wares in the Fairest City.

Azul: The first factor was due to the nearby mines.

Azul: The neighboring mountain range had an abundance of high-quality clay, for which artisans from all over began to come for.

Azul: The second factor is the development of pharmaceuticals thanks to knowledge passed down from the Fairest Queen.

Vil: That pharmaceutical science was then used to develop a diverse array of pigments, and that allowed for the field of colors to become what it is today.

Azul: Indeed. It's just as you say.

Azul: And the final factor is the sense of beauty that every Fairest Queen-loving inhabitant of the Fairest City carries.

Azul: Thus, the potters and sculptors who were raised with a heightened awareness of beauty themselves brought their ceramics to an entirely new level when it comes to works of art.

Vil: Only the residents of the Fairest City would find ways to elevate beauty in fields other than fashion and makeup.

Azul: We've arrived. I hear this shop carries a rather large collection of antique tableware for sale.

Vil: Have you already done prior research?

Azul: Yes, indeed. I must admit I have been looking forward to purchasing new tableware.

Grim: Woah! There's a ton of sparkly dishes and stuff!

Vil: What sort of tableware are you planning on purchasing, Azul?

Azul: I believe I'd like to find teacups, saucers, and a matching teapot.

1. What about this golden tea set?

Grim: Yeah! The shiny gold color is so cool! Azul: I see they allowed gold to oxidize and used that to create a pattern for the design. I must admit it is extravagant and definitely draws an eye. Vil: An opulent design. However, I feel it may not suit the Mostro Lounge.

2. Look at this pink tea set!

Azul: I see it is a set of teacups with a frill molding. The flower pattern along the rim is so wonderfully subtle. Vil: A rather cute design. However, I feel it may not suit the Mostro Lounge.

Azul: Fufu, I agree completely. Perhaps now we can look at the wares that had caught my eye?

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Azul: This is the one I am looking to purchase here.

Grim: This one, huh? It's just a borin' looking white cup with a tiny bit of blue stuff on it.

Azul: That dainty and subtle touch is intended to be its charm point… It seems you fail to comprehend that, Grim-san.

Azul: This bright white porcelain shows not a hint of translucency… Does it not seem to be the pinnacle of class?

Vil: It certainly does have a refined beauty about it.

Azul: The elegant design carved out of the rim of the teacup is called a "scalloped rim."

Azul: And consider this wave-like handle curled along the side… Even the minute details are so stunning.

Grim: A handle? What, you gonna steer somethin' with this cup, then?

Vil: Obviously the handle is where you hold the cup.

Vil: But, Azul. These cups and teapot are a vintage set.

Vil: Is there any need for you to use such an extravagant tea set in a café that caters to students?

Azul: Indeed. I consider this a necessary investment.

Azul: Just because my customers are students does not mean that I intend on compromising my standards.

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

[camera shutters clicking and screaming]

Fans: KYAAAAAAAAA! VIL-SAMAAAAA!!!

Reporter: If I can run an article on Vil Schoenheit, then there's no doubt that both magazine sales and website traffic are gonna go through the roof!

Reporter: Alright, now I just gotta hop this barrier so I can cover Vil Schoenheit up close…

[Grrk…]

Azul: Oh, my, it is dangerous to attempt to climb the barrier. Please take all photographs from the designated area.

Reporter: You little brat, don't get in my way! [Azul starts pushing] Urgh, what strength! He's pushing the whole barrier back towards me…!

Azul: If those instructions cannot be followed properly, I may have to take appropriate countermeasures…

Azul: For example, I may be inclined to ring up your place of employment and file a complaint at the highest levels.

Reporter: Okay, fine, just get out of my way, then! I can't even take a picture with you like this!

Azul: How wonderful that we've reached an understanding. Vil-san, please come this way.

Vil: Thank you… You were awfully efficient in handling that.

Azul: When you've made as many deals as I have, it's not uncommon to encounter troubled clients in need of extra firm handling.

Azul: I'm just glad I was able to put the mediation skills I've accumulated to good use.

Vil: Not only are you handling the press well… But you are doing a fantastic job as my escort.

Azul: Well, it also is not uncommon for me to host prospective business contacts personally, either.

Azul: Ah, we are almost at the staircase.

Azul: Right this way. If you wish, my hand is yours to take.

Vil: Well, then. I shall accept it.

―A few days later

[Mostro Lounge]

Octavinelle Student: Welcome!

Azul: Oh my… If it isn't Vil-san! You've come, as promised! I'm so elated.

Vil: Excuse you. I don't recall ever promising you anything. However…

Vil: I was merely thinking back to how you handled yourself previously. I do expect exceptional service today as well.

Vil: Business seems to be going well… Are you using that tea set you purchased back then?

Azul: I am. Right now… The guests at that table are enjoying the tea served in it.

Deuce/Epel: AHAHAHA!

Vil: …There is no way those two even remotely understand the worth of those cups.

Vil: Neither would the rest of these customers. Do you still think that it was worth selecting that specific set?

Azul: Absolutely. I vow to serve drinks and meals on quality dishes that I have personally selected.

Azul: That is something that I will never compromise as the proprietor of the Mostro Lounge.

Azul: You yourself would never touch clothes or cosmetics that don't suit your design or aesthetic taste, yes?

Vil: So, just as I carefully concoct my personal brand by being particular on how I fashion myself…

Vil: You look to enhance the Mostro Lounge by careful consideration of the tableware and table linen.

Vil: I think that fastidious approach of yours is just as spectacular. Perhaps I have judged you a tad harshly.

Azul: Why, thank you. I fully believed that you of all people would understand, Vil-san.

Azul: However… I cannot deny that at times I would like to share that appreciation of the tableware's elegance with someone who actually understands their worth.

Azul: That being said, Vil-san, allow me to prepare your order on my absolute finest plates.

Requested by Anonymous.

[jadeleechsupportgroup]

Closet Prison

“And those pitiable robes return once more to their closet prison.”

You get trapped in Malleus’s closet. Well done.

malleus x reader

cw: none

also on ao3

You are starting to wonder how many different job titles you have collected so far in your short tenure at Night Raven College. Even if you gathered several of them under the ‘Janitor’ heading that Crowley had so proudly bestowed upon you on the first day, there were enough now to make for one hell of a résumé: Glasswork Repair Technician, Antique Plumbing Specialist, Magestone Recovery Agent, not to mention every version of the word ‘therapist’ that existed. Now, you suppose, you could add Laundry Cleanliness Coordinator to the list.

“I demand to speak with someone at once! This is an outrage!”

Ah, yes. How could you forget Customer Service Punching Bag.

You peek out to the front reception area, hiding between hanging garment bags and swiping your over-steamed hair out of your face. You could have easily - and correctly - guessed at the owner of the voice for several reasons, primary among them 1. This happens every week and 2. Anyone would know that voice because no one ever gets to stop hearing it.

No one is coming to his rescue, even though you know you are not the only one on a shift today. But you are the closest one to the door. You balance your fingertips on the white paneling and close your eyes, steeling yourself for battle, your best and brightest fake smile serving as both armor and weapon. You tuck your lint brush into your back pocket in case you need something portable that won’t leave a mark.

“Why, Sebek, fancy seeing you here,” you say in a voice not your own. Your Customer Service Voice is a different person. You don’t know her. “You’re looking very well.”

“No, I am not!” he shouts, rattling the change in the tip jar on the counter behind you. Before you can have a chance to react, he shoves a garment bag with a paper receipt into your face. “You have made a grave error, and you must pay for it immediately!”

Your smile wanes, but you stay strong. “Me? In particular? Are you sure?”

“Who else would have committed such an unforgivable act, human?!”

You fold your arms patiently. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the error of my ways?”

Sebek flings down the garment bag in disgust. You catch it, somewhat, but its heft and size make for an awkward movement, something Sebek no doubt enjoys. “Since humans are of such feeble mind, I shall, as they say, ‘spell it out for you.’”

His chest heaves, and you brace yourself for the volume that’s about to assault you and anyone else within a three-mile radius.

“You have misplaced the ceremonial robes belonging to the great Malleus Draconia!”

The urge to beat him over the head with the tip jar strikes you abruptly, but you file it away. Inside, a very small part of you does panic - did Malleus bring some valuable, irreplaceable robes from home? But then you realize what Sebek means, and all you can do is wonder whether you could make assault with a deadly weapon look like self defense.

You put on your Voice again. “Like, his orientation robes? I didn’t even see those come in.”

“Of course not! And now they have landed in someone else’s filthy, unworthy hands!”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” You hang up the offending garment bag and check the receipt. Sure as shit, it has Malleus’s name on it. You refrain from suggesting this is all part of an elaborate prank. It would be funny, but you’ve heard enough of Sebek’s voice for one day. “I’ll get it sorted out.”

“See that you do! And that you prepare an apology for Lord Malleus at once!”

You force yourself to take a deep breath and hold it until he storms out the door. The tip jar lives to see another day.

You go over the books and cross-check a few numbers. A simple mistake - someone accidentally skipped a line on one side of the page, so now the entries are misaligned. You check the tag on the inside of the robes and find Leona’s name embroidered on the lining.

The prospect of hiking across campus with a heavy garment bag longer than you are tall is hardly enticing, but you don’t have much of a choice. The last thing you want is for Sebek to come back in ten minutes demanding to know why you haven’t fixed everything by now. You pull on your coat and head outside.

It’s cool and cloudy out - probably normal September weather for some, but you hail from somewhere hotter this time of year, and you’re already cold. The chill hastens your steps as you make your way across the stones and grassy pathways to the Hall of Mirrors. You wish you had a giant mug of hot cocoa or spiced apple cider. One of each, you decide as you step through the Savanaclaw mirror.

The jump still leaves you queasy, but the warm humidity of the pocket dimension embraces you and eliminates the cold clinging to your shoulders. You wander past groups of students, trying to catch glimpses of their faces while avoiding eye contact. You don’t recognize anyone, so with a sigh, you plod toward the main building.

A tall beast-eared student leans against the wall of the entryway like some kind of bouncer. You’re hoping he’ll ignore you, but he stands to his full height and blocks your path.

“You lost?” he asks gruffly.

“I need to give these to Leona,” you say evenly, losing some of the bravado that empowered you against Sebek earlier. “His robes got mixed up with someone else’s.”

He leans in and sniffs the air around you, prompting you to move away, bringing a satisfied glint to his eye. His ears twitch, but he finally backs off and resumes his post. “Go on.”

You find yourself breathing a little more deeply in a vain attempt to slow your heart rate. It would not do to pass out from a panic attack in the midst of all these predators. It occurs to you that you don’t know where to find Leona, but you really don’t want to ask any of these people for directions, so you start wandering. You’re up the stairs and halfway down the hall when a door opens and a familiar head of sandy brown hair ducks out of it.

“…last time I help that guy with anything,” he grumbles to himself. He glances up at you, and his dour expression lifts a bit. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Hi, Ruggie,” you say, breathless from the stairs. “I have Leona’s robes.” You have to pause for one huge breath. “They got switched around at the cleaners.”

Ruggie cackles. “That explains a lot. I’ll swap ’em out - he just went back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” You hand him the garment bag. He disappears back into the room, then returns with a different bag. Unfortunately, it’s no less long or heavy. You decide to fold it in half, hoping it will be a little easier to carry. “Best of luck with…whatever he’s having you do this time.” You gesture vaguely at the closed door.

“Haha, yeah.”

You’re almost too warm from all this manual labor by the time you re-enter the Hall of Mirrors, but the shock of cold that smacks you full force on the other side of the Diasomnia mirror leaves you instantly shivering. Is it always this cold in here? How does anyone stand it? The fog curling around the clusters of thorns at your feet does not help. Unlike at Savanaclaw, you don’t see any students milling about here. Just a long, lonely stone walkway winding up through the mist to the castle.

You hope just a little that the doors will be locked and you’ll have to leave, but no luck. The massive wooden doors are propped open, though nobody is standing guard here. They probably assume (correctly) that no one would waltz in here without a reason.

You try not to make it too obvious that you’ve never been in Diasomnia before, but there are plenty of things to gawk at in the lavishly-appointed lounge. Fine leather seating, antique wood tables that look like the much nicer versions of the ones in your dorm, expensive imported rugs - yet even with all that, and the flickering green candle flames dotting the room, the whole space feels…vacant. Lacking. And cold. So cold you can smell the stone.

“H- hello?” you call out, losing what little courage you had remaining. You consider leaving the garment bag on the nearest chair and escaping to safety, but a set of footsteps catches your attention.

“Why, good afternoon,” says a sunny, cordial voice completely at odds with your surroundings. He smiles and tilts his head to one side. “What can I do for you?”

“Lilia, right?” you guess, and to your relief he nods in response. “I’m just returning these.” You set the garment bag down, suddenly aware of how badly you were scrunching it. “Malleus’s robes,” you add.

Lilia blinks his bright cerise eyes. “Oh, that must be where Sebek went in such a hurry.” He allows himself a light chuckle. “You didn’t need to come all this way just to bring these back.”

“Yeah? Sebek was ready to burn me at the stake for it, so…” You frown over the state of the garment bag. You didn’t mean to crumple it so badly, but it just got so freaking heavy after more than a few minutes. “Would it be alright if I brush these out before I go? They probably got wrinkled, and I’ve reached my quota of stake burnings for the month.”

“Of course!” Lilia seems a little overjoyed at the idea of a visitor, but at least he is polite and appreciative of your efforts. “Right this way.”

You have to endure another set of stairs, passing by an enormous bat-winged chair at the top that would be practically comical in any other situation. Lilia trots along merrily ahead of you, humming to himself as you study the iron latticework of the huge windows lining the hall. Outside, you catch glimpses here and there of the gargoyles that stand guard along the parapets. The green firelight casts shadows through the grating that appear to bring their carved stone faces to life.

“Do you like architecture?” Lilia asks, bringing you out of your musings.

“Yeah, I guess so. This is all…very different from what I’m used to.”

“Well, you are certainly free to stop by at any time. We love having visitors.”

Lilia stops at a set of double doors and tugs them open before leading you inside. He looks about to say something when his watch chirps at him. He checks it curiously. “Hm? Oh, of course. We have a club meeting - I nearly forgot.” He offers you another kind smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, but I trust you can find your way out?”

“Pretty sure.” You balance the garment bag on one arm while you try to open the closet doors with your other hand. There’s an absolutely frigid draft in here, strong enough to disturb the curtains, and you wonder if Malleus is one of those monstrous types that sleeps with the windows open. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and be careful with that door. It can stick a little.”

With that, he bounces out of the room.

You hook the hanger over the closet railing and unzip the bag. The damage is minimal, actually; the robes’ heavy brocade fabric is pretty resilient as long as it’s dry. But you spot a few dozen hairs that must belong to Leona. You’re glad you brought the lint brush now.

The cold draft of air spills over your shoulders and freezes your hands. This is getting downright ridiculous. You step back into the main room and go to close the windows, but they’re already closed. The breeze is just there. You grumble to yourself about having two hot cocoas and two apple ciders upon your return home and go back to your work.

Malleus’s entire room looks like it hardly receives any use at all. Whether due to his position as housewarden or his family name, his closet is larger than what you would expect for a dorm room, large enough to stand in comfortably. (Although, for him, you think, perhaps not, as his horns might brush the ceiling. That would be funny.).

You can hardly concentrate because it’s so damn cold. You finally get fed up with it and pull the closet door most of the way shut behind you, leaving just enough of a gap for light to enter. The relief is instantaneous.

You carefully brush and straighten the robes, ensuring all the stray hairs and lint fluffs are removed, trimming a stray thread here and there. You run your fingers over the specially tailored openings in the hood. They’ve been hand-sewn by an expert, even adorned with their own decorative embroidery. You appreciate the craftsmanship, knowing that few people would notice it, let alone care.

As if enraged by your attempts to thwart its presence, the draft of air returns with a vengeance and slams the closet door. You jump - at the noise, the sudden inky darkness, the freshly chilled breeze - and, feeling indignant about it, you push on the door.

Only, it doesn’t open.

You try again to no avail. Then you try pulling on the door, just in case, but it budges even less. You push against it with your shoulder, wondering if this is Sebek’s magical idea of a joke or a punishment, but you’re fairly certain he would rather die than leave you unattended in Malleus’s room. You listen carefully, but you hear no footsteps or voices. Lilia already said he was leaving.

Okay, calm down. Think. And keep throwing yourself into the door while you do it.

You can’t understand why it’s not working. Maybe there’s a magic seal on it. Or maybe you’re just weak. Weak and pathetic.

Frustration turns into a combination of anger and fear and sad. You hate that you’re not able to open the damn door. You hate that you’re getting so worked up over not being able to open the damn door. You hate that thinking about that isn’t enough to make you stop.

“Hello?” you try calling out, but there’s no response. You yell a few more times and knock on the wood for good measure. It changes nothing.

You slump down to the floor and try to breathe. It’s not the dark or the enclosed space that gets to you. Good thing, too, or orientation day would have been a lot more graphic for your audience. It’s just that the whole thing makes you feel…

…stupid.

Your eyes are adjusting to the dark, for all the good it does you, which is hardly any. And the cold breeze has now permeated the supposedly impenetrable barrier, so you’re shivering now, too. You reach up and feel the hem of the robes that caused you all this trouble.

Well, it hardly matters now.

You tug them off of the hanger and snuggle into them. A gentle, woodsy perfume wafts up from the depths of the silk lining, subtle but strong in the enclosed space. You press the fabric to your face and draw in a deep breath. The smell soothes your nerves - fallen leaves, pine needles, fresh rain, even a touch of mycelium.

You don’t have forests around where you’re from. You’ve been to them a few times, sure, on camping trips and one brief foray into the world of hiking, but none of them smelled quite like this.

You lie on your side and stare up in the general direction of the ceiling. The breeze hits your face, so you pull the hood down to shield yourself. You would laugh at how ridiculous this is, but you’re too worn out to care. You roll onto your side and let your eyes loll shut.

“-classes today?”

You mentally tell the voices to go away. You haven’t slept this well in ages.

“They were adequate. I shall go to the library later to acquire some other materials.”

You don’t want to get up. Even though you’re not really that comfortable…

“Excellent idea, my liege! I shall be honored to acquire all the necessary books for you!”

Your eyes shoot open. You’re not dreaming anymore.

The past few minutes - hours? - come back to you, and you scramble to sit up, fumbling with the robes you were using as a blanket. You’re about to try the door again when the voices come back.

“Do not trouble yourself on my behalf, Sebek. I am quite capable.”

“It’s no trouble, my liege!”

You sink back against the wall and try to control your breathing. You don’t even want to imagine what Sebek will say if he finds you like this. Whatever it is, it will cause permanent hearing loss.

You sit in the dark and wait.

“Very well, Sebek.”

“Thank you, Lord Malleus!”

You grit your teeth in annoyance and wish Sebek would go buy a personality since he doesn’t have his own. No wonder Malleus looks to be in such a dour mood all the time. He must have eternal patience to tolerate someone like that. You wouldn’t last ten minutes-

Light suddenly bursts in front of your eyes and blinds you. You squint and hold up one hand to shield your face against the brightness.

Malleus blinks down at you.

You wonder, briefly, what this must look like to his eyes. You, disheveled, wrapped in his ceremonial robes, on the floor of his closet. You are positive that every blood cell in your body is rushing to your face.

You don’t even have time to stand up.

Malleus steps inside and closes the door, plunging you into darkness once again.

“Wh-?”

“Shhh,” he whispers with hardly a breath of air. A rustle of fabric, and his hand locates yours without any of the blind searching you would have done. He helps you stand.

“Behold, Silver! I have been chosen to accompany Lord Malleus to the library!”

“Sure thing, Seb…”

You giggle before you can stop yourself, then clamp your hand over your mouth in a vain attempt to shut yourself up.

“S-sorry,” you stammer hopelessly. “I didn’t, um. It’s a long story.”

Heat soars to your face when Malleus closes his hand over your mouth.

“Shhh,” he says again. You can’t see a thing in the dark, but you can tell he’s listening. He must still faintly hear their voices. You have no idea. You can’t hear a thing over the fervent hammering of your blood against your bones.

You have no idea how long you both stay like that, unmoving, but eventually he pulls his hand away from your mouth. You take several panicked breaths even though you were breathing just fine.

He seems alarmed. “Have I injured you?”

“No, no. Sorry.” You give up and laugh, first from nerves, then relief. “I’ve just been stuck in here for…hours, I guess.”

A bulb of green firelight winks into existence and hovers above your head, where it casts sharp shadows over Malleus’s features. You think of the gargoyle statues. But rather than fierce and intimidating, he looks amused.

“Lilia mentioned that you dropped by to return my robes,” he says. “Did he not warn you about the door?”

You scoff. “He said it sticks a little. Not that I would need inhuman strength to open it.”

Malleus reaches forward and gently tugs the hood off of your head. You forgot you’re still wearing the robes and start to pull them off, but he stops you.

A smile seems to flit across his face, though it may be a trick of the light.

“They suit you,” he says with a low, delicate laugh that turns your heart upside down in your chest. “At least someone has found a use for them.”

“It was cold in here,” you reply lamely.

He leans in close enough that the heat from his breath dances across your nose. “And now?”

You are certain he can hear your pulse louder than you can. One hand is still holding yours, but the other he lifts to the side of your face, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek and ear before sweeping through your hair. You close your eyes and sigh into his mouth.

He holds you as though you are fragile, yet something he does not intend to let go. He mirrors your movements, letting you choose how deep or delicate the kiss, sliding his hand down your back to hold you closer. Everything shows that he wants to be careful with you.

Fireworks burst in your heart and under his hands. You reach up to his face, run your fingers through the liquid silk of his hair. Forest and rain and fresh earth overwhelm you, and you realize faintly that it’s not a cologne or anything artificial. It’s the smell of his skin.

You barely nudge the side of his horn with a fingertip. He laughs against your lips and has to pull away.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to…”

Malleus brushes your fingers against his mouth, then cradles your hand to the side of his face. “You simply caught me by surprise. That is all.”

“You first.”

You catch sight of his grin before he snuffs out the green flame. “I only wish this had happened sooner,” he says, wrapping both arms around you. You do, too, though what he next murmurs against your ear suggests that his reasons differ slightly from your own. “What a marvelous hiding place.”

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 1

Chapter Links: Chapter 1 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour! ---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–-- A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Arriving in Hell had been a difficult adjustment, but you figured that was likely by design and not some personal failing on your part.  You'd stumbled out of the gates of Hell right into the aftermath of what you now know was an extermination; alone and terrified amidst the burning rubble and mutilated corpses that littered the ground.  

You were lucky in a sense, even though it didn't feel like it at the time.  Everyone is usually pretty busy in the days immediately following an invasion from Heaven, too occupied looting bodies for valuables and deleting the newly deceased from their phone's contact list to give much attention to a new arrival.  The Gates of Hell were usually swarmed by traffickers looking for new merchandise and mid-level thugs looking to make an easy deal for a soul or two, so you were able to slip through the cracks and wander the outskirts of Pentagram city largely unnoticed while most of the sinners were either still in hiding or sleeping off their celebratory hangovers.  

Initially, you stuck out like a sore thumb, clad in the baggy dress that you'd been buried in; a garment that had likely been looted from your Grandmother's closet based on the large shoulder pads and unflattering mauve color.  You figured that your family had deemed all the dresses you actually owned and liked as too inappropriate for funeral garb, which aligned with how they usually regarded your fashion choices.  The fabric was uncomfortable, starched stiff and itchy against your skin, so you didn't feel any guilt about using your newly discovered claws to shred a slit into the back of the skirt to make room for your long and incredibly poofy tail.

Upon further examination in the cracked glass of an abandoned store front, you discovered that you also now possessed a set of rounded black ears atop your head and large, dark smudges around your eyes that made it look like you'd slept with mascara on for a week straight.  

The powers that be had, apparently, found it suitable for you to spend the rest of eternity living as a raccoon.  

And while you greatly preferred your animal form to many of the other, more intimidating body shapes prowling the streets of Pentagram City, looking what most people would consider adorable wasn't necessarily a desired trait in Hell.  Wide-eyed prey animals were quick to disappear, materializing weeks later on posters outside of strip clubs and porn theaters.  

You'd darted from the predatory glances of other sinners, spending your first nights in Hell sleeping curled up behind back alley dumpsters; tearing through the freshest smelling trash bags for scraps of food with a voracity that surely made your Raccoon forefathers shed tears of pride.  

Repeatedly choosing to wander down the least sinister looking streets had inevitably led you to the heart of Cannibal Town, an antiquated borough that looked like it had been lifted straight out of the background of a classic movie.  Naively, you had assumed that the more polished appearance of buildings and fixtures meant that the area was safer than the dilapidated city center you had wandered in from.  That notion had been quickly dispelled when you stumbled across a group of middle aged women sitting on a park bench, merrily chatting as they took turns ripping hunks of flesh from an obviously human leg with their sharpened teeth.  

Thankfully, the abundance of readily available, post Extermination sinner flesh kept the cannibals well satiated and dissuaded them from making you the victim du jour.  That, and the fact that more than one cannibal had gleefully admitted to you that they found raccoon meat too gamey for their liking. 

You'd managed to secure a job fairly easily, with numerous businesses looking to fill vacancies from recent employee murders.  In the end, you'd settled on working at a small butcher shop a couple blocks away from the main promenade.  You'd been unwillingly charmed by the store's on the nose name, ‘Time to Kill’, and the fact that it supplemented your meager paycheck by providing you with a small room above the storefront to live in.  

Hal, the owner of the store, was a heavy-set man with a bushy mustache that wouldn't look out of place attached to a broom handle.  He'd been admittedly skeptical about your potential as a butcher when they had to tuck a bucket into the back room for you to throw up in after the first half-dozen times you'd hurled when breaking down your first carcass.  

But you'd slowly grow accustomed to the grizzly task, focusing on the fact that you were cutting up meat and ignoring that it was likely human in origin.  Hal was pleased by your hard-working nature, but mostly he was thrilled by the fact that you didn't help yourself to a five-finger discount like the rest of his employees did.  

“Seriously,” Hal had said, his mustache twitching in displeasure .  “They're eatin’ all the fingers!”

Day after day passed without much distinction, working from sunup ‘til sundown hacking up bodies for pennies on the dollar.  It wasn't much of a living, but since technically you weren't even living at all, you did your best to be content with your lot in death.  

After all, it was your discontent in life that had landed you here in the first place.  

And if waking up in literal Hell wasn't a wake up call to turn over a new leaf you didn't know what was.  

You were coming up on the first anniversary of your arrival in Hell and the citizens of the Pride Ring were all in a tizzy trying to stock up on supplies to last through the impending Extermination.  Drug dealers were working double shifts to keep up with demand and the liquor stores had long since sold out of their top brands and had switched to selling bathtub gin to supply their customers with.

The line outside of Time to Kill was already wrapped around the block by the time you had flipped the deadbolts, barely managing to escape being crushed by the door as it crashed open; a densely packed group of cannibals rushing inside.  You'd fled from the crowd into the back workroom, taking up your post at a carving station with a cleaver in hand, ready to do your part to supply the hungry masses.

The hours bled together as you skinned and chopped, filleted and ground; so focused on the tasks before you that you didn't realize your coworker had been calling your name until they slapped their hand firmly down onto your shoulder.

“You okay?” They asked, glancing at your dewy face with concern.

“Oh- yeah, I'm alright,” you assured them, placing your cleaver down across the cutting board and wiping your bloody hands on a nearby towel.  “What's up?”

“It's your turn up front,” he said, gesturing towards the front of a store with his stubby thumb.  “Ms. Rosie is here.”

“Ms. Rosie?”

“Yeah, she's the Overlord here in Cannibal Town,” your coworker explained, elbowing you out of the way to take your place at the cutting station.  “Fresh Meat deals with the Overlords- shop rule.”

“Oh,” you murmured nervously, wandering over to the sink to wash your hands.

“Might want to hurry up, there!” one of the other workers called over her shoulder as she dropped a bunch of bone fragments into an awaiting bin.  “Your chance of survival decreases every minute you keep an Overlord waiting!”

You slammed the handle of the faucet to the off position and quickly took off to the front counter, your coworkers laughing raucously at your expense while you frantically wiped your hands dry on your blood-spattered apron.

The politics of Hell were still largely unfamiliar to you.  But even though you did your best to keep your head down and nose in your own business, you'd gleaned a little knowledge from snippets of overheard conversation in the butcher shop.  You weren't entirely sure what Overlords did exactly, but you knew that in order to become one you had to be powerful.

So it was with great trepidation that you stepped into the front of the store, doing your best to hide how absolutely terrified you were, but knowing your stiff legged gait and tight smile likely gave you away.  

The tall, elegant form of Ms. Rosie wasn't what you'd been expecting.  While dressing up was the norm in Cannibal Town, Rosie took it to a new level; looking as though she never let a fabric less expensive than silk grace her form.  But despite the absolutely enchanting picture her elegance painted, the aura of raw power she exuded prickled your skin and caused your tail to poof up in an instinctual, and utterly useless, bid for intimidation.  

“Well, look at you!” Rosie drawled, her dark eyes widening in delighted surprise as you approached the counter.  “It's been a while since we've gotten someone new in town.  Where've you been hiding, sweetheart?”

“Uh- my room, mostly,” you manage to stammer out, nervously smoothing down your ruffled tail fur.  

“That's a real shame, keeping a cute face like yours all cooped up!” Rosie cooed.  “How long ya’ been living in my part of the city?”

“Nearly a year now, Ma'am.”

“A whole year?” Rosie gasped.  “You weren't kidding ‘bout keeping to yourself, huh?”

Not really knowing what else to say, you opt to helplessly shrug before reaching for an order pad and pen.  

“So, uh- what can I get for you today, Ms. Rosie?”

“What's still available?”

“I won't lie, it's pretty slim pickings right now.  But I was just working on a pretty nice looking rack of ribs if you're interested.”

“Ribs it is then,” Rosie smiled, patiently waiting as you disappeared to the backroom and returned with multiple wrapped bundles of meat, all cinched together in a stack with fraying twine.  

“Thank you, darling,” she said, passing the stack of meat to one of the well-dressed attendants waiting beside her.  “Add it to my tab, will ya’?”

“Of course, Ma'am,” you agreed readily, sliding the sale record underneath the cash register tray for Hal to deal with later.  

“Oh, and sweetheart?” Rosie called out, catching your attention, as you moved to assist the next customer in line.  “If you make it through Extermination Day, make sure to swing by and visit me for tea sometime, will ya’?  I'd really like the chance to get to know ya’ better.”

And despite every neuron of common sense and self-preservation screaming at you to decline the invitation, you gritted your teeth and quickly nodded your assent; swallowing thickly when Rosie bared her teeth in a delighted, feral smile.  

You knew better to say ‘no’ to an Overlord.

[bannanasrus]

Should have picked a different Apartment

Contains Unwilling M/M vore with implied digestion

Going into the apartment that gave the thief bad vibes in the first place was the thief’s first mistake knocking over a vase was the second.

“Hell” cursed the thief hopping against hope, that no one had heard the crash of the vase.

Unfortunately for him the owner of the apartment had heard it, and very casually walked into the kitchen from the bedroom. “Can I help you” he asked in a polite manner that never the less held a threat.

“Oh hell”

“Indeed”

“Stay back I’m armed” warned the thief

“I quiver with fear” replied the owner a shark toothed grin spreading over his face

The thief swallowed, he hadn’t considered how big this guy really was when he’d made that threat but, taking him all in - he was about twice as wide as he was, and nearly a foot taller.

“Don’t even think about calling the cops!” He said attempting to gain some kind of control over the situation.

“Goodness me no” said the owner “I would never drag law enforcement here to deal with something so trivial”

“I’m trivial?” Asked the thief angrily in spite of his fear, yes he did have a reputation to uphold, in spite of the fact that he was currently frozen in fear.

“Yes” replied the owner “In a few hours, maybe a bit longer, you won’t be here” he considered something “Unless you want to get out right now that is, and save me the trouble”

“Hey! I think you’ve gotten mixed up with who is making the demands here!” snapped the thief. Less angry and more… huffy.

“Oh you are quite correct” replied the owner still smiling all the while - the same shark toothed calm smile.

“So, are you gonna give me all your money?” said the thief. It wasn’t actually a demand, it was a question. He really would have preferred to just get out of here, but his pride demanded that he at least make the attempt to leave here with some kind of valuables to put in his bag on the Balcony.

The owner stepped from the shadows, into an area that was bathed in moonlight and, shit thought the thief he really was Big, not big with a small b, but Big with a big B. He had short brownish hair which sat in a quiff, blue eyes, very lightly tanned skin, and it was impossible to not note his physique - he was positively herculean - the dressing gown he was wearing was only highlighting the thick round of his pecs which were visible at the top, and each of his thighs were as thick as a tree trunk - well maybe not literally but metaphorically yes!

“Is this a hold up?” he asked inquisitively still smiling “If it is, I feel the need of introductions, since we might be here a while - my name is Cecil”

“I won’t tell you mine!” replied the thief

“Very well” replied Cecil and thief could have sworn he added under his breath “It’s not as though food needs a name”

“Well I was just going to - ” quick as it had been said Cecil had moved forward at speed closing the distance between them, looming over the thief who gulped in fear again - he really didn’t want to see what this guy was going to do to him.

“Go?”

“Um”

“I wouldn’t like you to come all this way for nothing”

“No no, I want you to let me go”

“You know, I realised you looked familiar - though granted with those balaclavas every thief looks similar, but your build well that’s very distinctive - you robbed this building before didn’t you” his voice suddenly became very dangerous

The thief did remember it had been a few nights ago - an old lady’s apartment she had gotten up tried to take him, and he’d pushed her to the ground then he’d robbed her apartment. Not that there had been that much to take, only an antique necklace with a locket, it had been a waste though - too distinctive to get anything for it.

“Your silence, whether of fear or guilt is very confirming” said Cecil “Luckily for you, she isn’t dead” not thought Cecil that that’ll change your fate “But you did steal something of great sentimental value to her, a necklace, with a locket, made of gold?”

His and his boyfriend’s neighbour was an old, old lady who had once had to flee her home - the only treasure she had from it was in a necklace her parents gave to her as a child it contained a locket inside of which was a series of small locks of hair from her siblings. “Uh yeah” said the thief nervously, really regretting shoving that old lady now.

“Where is it?”

“In my bag”

“Which is where?”

“Oh the balcony”

Cecil moved to look at the dark balcony and saw the idiot thief attempting to lunge at him with a heavy lamp.

A few things happened in quick succession: first, Cecil dodged the swing, second the thief stumbled backwards losing his footing and finally third Cecil lunging forward like a python wrapped his huge arms around the thief opened his mouth wider than should have ben possible and shoved him headfirst into his mouth.

The thief shrieked in surprise and started kicking his legs trying to get out, but he was doomed Cecil slurped trying to see if any flavour came off of his meal. He disliked eating people like this he could never be sure that they were really clean, but oh well he was doing his part to keep crime off the street, and only part of his muscle came from the cheat of devouring people There was also the issue that clothes stood in the way of tasting the guy properly, there wasn’t much meat on him anyway. Sometimes - infact most of the time he preferred them this way - lean and mean easy to subdue though they still kicked up a storm in his gut speaking of which.

Angling his head back to help gravity do the rest he grabbed the socks and shoes off of the thief's feet and tossed them to the one side. In a few seconds the thief was curled in the stomach of Cecil whose dressing gown came loose exposing his tan thief filled gut and who let out a loud deep belch and moaned.

“you ate me, you actually ate me!!” Yelled the thief

“You tried to kill me with a lamp buddy” said Cecil

There were footsteps and in stepped Blake who merely sighed at Cecil’s gut. Whilst Cecil sat down on the sofa and spread his legs - the better to accommodate the expanse with.

“hey darling, said Cecil grinng at Blake who walked into the room and sat beside him

“it’s the middle of the night” replied Blake grumpily

“hey I didn’t choose what time this ruffian decided to perform home invasion!” Said Cecil cheerily

“you are way too upbeat at all times” grumbled Blake as he reached out with one hand and began rubbing Cecil’s stomach coaxing up another belch

“You are way too good at this” sighed Cecil dropping his head back and wrapping an arm around Blake’s torso pulling him against the dome of flesh that bulged occasionally with the struggles of its unwilling occupant in spite of himself Blake grinned and began rubbing with both hands as he shifted himself to straddle Cecil earning him a grunt of surprise and a belch as Cecil placed a hand on either side of Blake to keep him there. Blake leaned forward and tenderly kissed Cecil on his lips Cecil responded by wrapping his arms more firmly about Blake and giving a small moan of pleasure as Blake’s hands continued to massage him feeling as though he had found a good sized pocket of air Blake leaned away from Cecil as a gurgle starting in his stomach rapidly made it’s way up and out of Cecil’s mouth who had been sitting there eyes slightly heavy lidded

“Bouarrrrrrp” he moaned and Blake immediately fell back upon him “You are so so hot when you are like this” he whispered in Cecil’s ear “all full and belching” Cecil loved the praise from his gorgeous Boyfriend but…

“I’m hardly full” he replied “in fact I could scarf down 2, 3 more of these guys no problem” he whispered in Blakes ear he belched again smaller this time yet he chuckled as he saw Blake blush and giggle “in fact I still could do with another snack” he bit gently on Blakes ear relishing how it made Blake tingle all over “For some reason whenever I eat you - I feel at my fullest, my belly stretched to the max like I’ve eaten a full buffet plus some assholes that bother us on the way home - all of that just from you stretching me out” his voice was filled with desire, but it softened to gentle tenderness “all that from just you - my favourite 5 star meal”

“Cecil…” said Blake his hands moving from Cecil’s gut to his face “you are the most beautiful man” he kissed him moaning as Cecil’s hands began to grip his body until they were interrupted by a voice from Cecil’s gut

“Ewww, excuse me if you are going to, engage in activities then show me some respect and let me out”

“How are you still alive?” asked a gobsmacked Blake to Cecil’s gut “That last belch should have taken you to the Flats in the sky” he looked at Cecil who was similarly surprised

“Wait what the hell?” Yelled the thief

“Hey buddy good food shouldn’t talk” snapped Cecil annoyed that his time with Blake was being taken up by this asshat.

“I’m not food” shrieked the thief shoving violently against Cecil’s stomach walls

“Stop speaking and squirming” Said Cecil “Squirming’s all well and good at the start really gets me going - but after a while it’s just like shut up accept your fate and digest”

“You’re going to digest me?!!!” Shrieked the thief kicking again more violently

“Stop that” groaned Cecil grasping his stomach and belching again Blake slid off of his lap and onto the floor. It was surprisingly painful getting kicked - usually it didn’t hurt this much

“Hell no, Let me out - you can’t do this”

“You shouldn’t have broken into our Flat buddy”

“I am not your Buddy” yelled the thief shoving again at Cecils stomach walls this time actually hurting him more than quite a bit, damn it felt like getting stabbed - please tell me he didn’t actually have a weapon he thought to himself

“Ow” he whined “stop”

“Ha ha ha ha” not so confident now are you - you stupid greedy musclebound glutton”

“Stop hurting him” snapped Blake getting off the floor and ramming both hands onto the squirming mass Blake may not have had the ability to devour people and turn them to mush - but he certainly had the power to deliver a fierce push the thief yelped as we felt the shove and Cecil let out a loud rumbling belch. “BOUARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP Damn” ,he said “I must have gulped down a lot of air with that guy”. His hands returned to a much less engorged stomach.

“Would explain why he lasted so long and how despite being so scrawny he was able to give you such a bloat” said Blake whose own hands were on each of Cecil’s broad shoulders and were tracing down each of his biceps.

“Yeah” sighed Cecil “I mean he wasn’t so much scrawny as lean and thin”

“How did he taste” asked Blake

“Not of too much” replied Cecil “I was more eager to get him down than to taste him” Blake’s hand returned to and rubbed Cecil’s stomach feeling the lumps were moving weakly but not for much longer he thought

“Blake” asked Cecil

“Yes”

“Can you check the balcony please? This guy said he left his bag with Miss Olgania’s Locket in it”

“I will do that once I’m sure he can never rob Miss Olgania or us or anyone ever again” said Blake leaning forward and kissing Cecil

“Mmmmm” moaned Cecil moving forwards “My gut, my muscles - the most secure prison”

”Just right” Replied Blake smiling as his hands returned to his stomach.

Miss Valecia Olgania was aged somewhere in her seventies though she would never admit it insisting that she stopped aging at 39! She had grey hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head and wore a patterned black and white skirt and a pink top.

Upon hearing a knock at her door she moved over to it and after checking the spy-hole and seeing that it was her downstairs neighbours Cecil and Blake she unlocked, unchained and opened the door with a smile.

“Miss Olgania, it is our pleasure to return to you the locket that was stolen by the thief” said Cecil presenting the locket which was indeed within the black bag that the thief had said it was in, alongside several other presumably stolen goods which they had handed over the the police.

“Oh you really both are the kindest gentlemen!” Said Miss Olgania gladly taking the locket in her hands and holding it to her chest

“We just do our part for the community” Said Cecil

“and you are a part of it Miss Olgania” added Blake smiling

“But how did you get it back?!” Said Miss Olgania slightly puzzled - but only slightly.

Cecil laid a hand over the slight increase in thickness in his abs that was the only indication of his meal “let’s just say that he won’t be bothering you or us again any time soon.”

Miss Olgania simply smiled and laughed “Well all I can say is thank you my dears, and an invitation to my humble abode for a most ordinary meal is most certainly in order!” She invited them in and closed the door bustling over to where her calendar hung on a small hook and pulling it off, shall we say Friday night between 5 and 6?”

“That sounds wonderful said Cecil”

“Concurred” said Blake grinning

“And while we’re here why not have a cup of tea?”

“why not indeed” they chorused - after all who would refuse a cup of tea from such a nice lady?

Well I know someone who might but since he’s now part of someone who would never do so - I think we can leave him out!

Thank you so much for reading if you’ve made it this far

I very much hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments about grammar and spelling and punctuation would be very very welcome - I would much rather know if I’ve made a stupid mistake than not know!

[naffeclipse]

Now I'm invested in the monster bf OCs AHAHAH like Hawthorn sounds like such a cutie !!! Also a mothman hello?? 😍 ( I kinda lowkey wanna draw him even tho I'm not well versed in drawing monster-esque characters 🤣✨ )

May I ask about how they'd all give affectionate gifts to MC? Any way shape or form to tell MC they love them and stuff 🥹💕 thanks in advance 🙏🏻

AH THANK YOU! I'm glad you like Hawthorn, he is such a cutie!! Ohhh, if you did, I'd love to see it! I need to get some refs commissioned for the monster boys but that's gonna have to wait a minute due to school starting soon for me ;-;

Hawthorn has a plethora of natural gifts for MC and he painstakingly takes the time to find the right beauties to present to his darling human. He sets spiral snail shells into MC's palm and tucks feathers from beautiful birds into MC's hair. Mostly, he brings flowers. He's a bit of a sap like that when he swoops down and stands before MC, all endearing, and quietly telling MC to take the bouquet of pink, blue, and yellow wildflowers that he spent the entire day collecting with little twigs and shrub leaves. He really hopes MC enjoys each and every gift. He puts a lot of thought into them. He just wants to see a pleased smile and a little bit of a twinkle in MC's beautiful eyes.

Grease isn't great at gifts but when he does have something to give, he bewilders poor MC with his offerings. A shiny ring that doesn't fit on MC's finger. An antique wristwatch with a cracked face. Once, a phone that clearly belonging to someone else. Misplaced valuables. MC grills Grease until he confesses that he finds most of his 'gifts' while he's going after fresh victims to feed on. MC tells him to stop stealing. Grease gets grumpy about it but he does turn to dumpster diving and finding little treasures tossed away along the side of the road. The things he does for MC.

Calmo doesn't have a way to give gifts like the other boys. He lives in MC's house and refuses to leave the safety of its walls. He figures out how to order items off of the internet but doing so costs money, and he's not going to dip into MC's bank account to supply MC with a gift. That would be meaningless. Instead, he turns to learning how to do human things, like cooking, dancing, and immersing himself in MC's interests. He gives MC a fresh, home-cooked meal after the end of a long shift at the diner. When MC's favorite song comes on, slow and romantic, he takes MC by the hand and softly spins with his dance partner around the room. A new book comes out that MC loves and Calmo ensures he reads it when MC is not home so they might exchange thoughts about the text later. MC doesn't realize they're gifts, but MC seems happy.

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

What R# Means: The ABC's of Fear.

The grading system used by the OIAR is one of TMAGP's more central mysteries. The show is rife with administrative work that's obfuscated even to the employees that assign each case's rating.

I have my own theory about DPHW that I think is proving more and more likely each episode, but as of yet I don't think a comprehensive theory on CAT# or R# has been given. CAT# is still proving a hard to crack but I now think I can take a strong stab at the meaning behind R#.

Spoilers for TMAGP 1-7 below the cut.

For the people who aren't keeping close track of this I'll break down how those terms are used. Each incident the OIAR assesses is assigned a case number in the following format CAT#R#DPHW. CAT, short for Category, is assigned a value of 1, 2, 3, or any combination of those three digits (12, 13, etc.). R, short for Rank, are graded C, BC, B, AB, A, or S (potentially AS but it's not come up). For DPHW each letter is a category itself and replaced with a digit from 0-9 for its grading. So there are 6 separate statistics that the OIAR uses to assess each incident.

If I'm correct about DPHW it's a ranking based on the qualities the incident presents. That's obviously very valuable information. Because of how CAT# is formatted we know it's likely three non-mutually exclusive facets. I had some idea about what it could be but it's proving quite tricky to nail down.

However it's R# that is the topic of today's post and it's something I've had a few ideas on before. We know can assume from its formatting it's a linear scale. C is the "worst/weakest/etc." while S is the "best/strongest/etc.". Initially, I thought that R# was simply a straight forward ranking of potency or threat. Higher the rank, spookier the incident. Very early on that seemed like a strong idea. It was quickly disproven but I then had the idea that Rank was instead the scale of the effect. Higher the rank, wider the incident. Also quickly disproven.

Now I'm thinking it's graded on how hard it is to deny an incident's supernatural nature. Simply put, an outside observer can more readily find a believable rational explanation for an incident of lower rank than of higher rank. Either via their own conviction to believe the supernatural isn't real, or based on the story the OIAR cooks up to explain it.

For that to make sense it needs to tick two boxes. It needs to be able to be pre-assigned to an incident as all CAT#R#DPHW's seem to be, and it needs to be useful information to track. As they're operating under the assumption that CAT#R#DPHW's can be pre-assigned then they're operating under the assumption that each type of incident is relatively stable. Meaning that the likelihood that it can be rationally explained is also relatively stable. Tick 1. There is also a really strong reason for the OIAR to use this as a grade. They're the Office of Incident Assessment and Response, the Response Department might be dead but it was a part of the initial plan. Grading each incident on how likely they are to cause concern should the details go public is very useful for deciding how to approach any given case. Tick 2.

It being useful is all well and good but it does also need to have some evidence so let's look at our highest ranked incident to this point: CAT23RAB2155 - Transformation (Eye) -/- Trespass. A man grew eyes over his body. That's pretty tricky to explain away as a medical mystery. On the other end of the scale we've got CAT2RC1157 - Dolls (Watching), or CAT2RC3338 -Agglomeration (Miscellany) -/- Congregation†. Just a creepy doll and some crappy antiques. I think of all the incidents the one that's the least immediate fit is CAT3C7494 - Collection (Blood) -/- Musical. Most of that incident is very easy to slot in here. "It's just a violin that has sharp strings, so what?". But it's also a violin that made some people eat some other people. However, mass hysteria events do get reported every so often IRL and do have a very long history. So in the grand scheme of things I don't think the details of the event are necessarily all that outlandish. It's really in the realms of urban legend and witch hunts than it is definitive proof of the supernatural.

With all that out the way this is the broad strokes of how I could see this breaking down. C ranks are things you can entirely write off as urban legends, freak accidents, and stress. Potentially things that might not need any covering up at all. I think the majority of events people could entirely say didn't happen will end up in C. "Of course the doll wasn't watching you, dolls aren't alive". B ranks are things that are harder to entirely discount as things that happened but are themselves still relatively easy to excuse as mundane. "Sure, the circumstances of that blogger's disappearance are strange but people go missing all the time, doesn't mean a monster did it". We don't have any A ranks but given the AB rank we do have I'd say A's are things in which no rational explanation can account for it, and as such require more extensive covering up, if it indeed happened. "Okay, maybe the supernatural is real because people don't just grow eyes like that".

As I mentioned early, an S rank does exist. We've not seen this attributed to anything in the show yet and so it might prove to be a special case. However on Klaus' sheet‡ from the ARG it's attributed to an interesting incident. A CAT1RS[No DPHW] with the note Mr. B. And, well, if you know, you know.

From Klaus' sheet we also know that the higher ranked incidents happen less often than lower ones and that idea generally tracks with what we know of TMP and TMA. The supernatural tends to be something you can explain away. It often is explained away. Incredibly overt manifestations are a rarity.

This one will be a slow burn to see if it bears out. Much like with DPHW's it's only really interesting when things go against the theory. I'm not as certain on this one as I am the DPHW theory but I do think it's got legs with our current data.

† This did also feature people who seemed to erase their physical features from your memory after you interacted with them. This isn't something I mention in the theory because it's not taken into account by the header and case number. A major flaw in the OIAR's methodology here is that all incidents are only ever one thing. So the case number is based solely on the presence of lots of miscellaneous objects, rather than the mind-wiping people carrying them.

‡I have made an incident master doc here, containing all the current cases, their CAT#'s, R#'s, DPHW's, etc. It has about as much information on each as I think is reasonable, including who narrates it, a link to its episode, and any other relevant notes, as well as headers for incidents we didn't hear. Additionally it also contains the Klaus sheet (German and English) and links to it when an incident matches. It will be updated each episode after the episode is publicly available.

[cowboypigsy]

Lewis Handler / The Director

Formally a secret agent, now an agent supervisor who has a bit of an antique collecting habit. While searching a junkyard for any valuables, Director had found his now companion’s, Phoenix Polyblank, radio in the junk heap. As an elite himself, he tends to send Phoenix and Niles Tonopah out on missions to collect evidence for other elites or to keep consistent tabs on individuals.

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(Side note: this character in particular also serves as a fan rendition for Jazzpunk and IEYTD The Handler. But they are STILL an oc)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

You know how I love offbeat properties and I found this seller's For-Sale-By-Owner ad on Zillow. He started building the home in 1969, in Eureka, California, and it's been under construction for 43 years! It's a French ornamented cathedral Gothic, with all custom ornaments, molds and scaffolding techniques. This mansion is based on Newport, Rhode Island style and spirit from the 19th Century.

This is what it's supposed to look like - The Vision.

And, in 43 yrs., this is what he's done so far. He's asking $4.5M. Now, he has been living in it, so you can live in the finished part. The house is being sold furnished, and what furnishings! Read what he wrote about them below:

"Also for sale here are 1500 sq. ft of the ultimate grade palatial antique Italian marquetry, veneer and solid wood furniture, ranging from console tables and mirrors; 10 different sizes of round antique tables, up to a 12' x 6' museum-piece dining table, various rare cabinets, marquetry, upholstered chairs, couches, china and other cabinets, solid gold (plated) grandfather clock and two huge antique chandeliers, all worth over $300k on the market now and arguably TWICE that!"

This outer door is amazing.

Here's a gargoyle and other ornamentation that still has to go on the house.

But, look at this - it says the exterior designs are ready for installation "when the lawsuit is over." So, the property is involved in a lawsuit, too? (Check the blog - I found the lawsuit papers and posted it.)

There's so much stuff here.

This room is done. It must be a ballroom. I don't know what to make of all this. This looks like the Romanoff's place.

This must be a music room. There's a harpsicord and a harp in here.

Look at these walls. He says the walls are hand done- are these the actual walls?

The walls are hand painted according to the description.

Here's a mantel waiting to be installed.

This is going to be the kitchen.

The gold double sink.

I don't know if this is an old picture of the original inspiration for this home, but it's definitely a representation of the home itself.

This is an amazing fireplace.

Another beautiful fireplace.

He's using the bedroom, but it's not finished.

I'm disappointed in this bathroom. Maybe it's just temporary?

He has a lot of photos of the furniture and these are really primo antiques. So, this would be one of the dining rooms.

This looks like a brand new bedroom set. Looks like a furniture store that used to be near me called Roma Furniture.

The chandelier in the ballroom that he says is included in the sale.

One of the sitting rooms.

Nice inlaid table.

There's a lot of furniture. If you want to see it all, click on the link b/c he's posted 100 photos. But, I'm very confused.

The property measures 6 acres and there are "massive fall color and rose gardens, 20,000 plantings, plus 10,000 daffodil, iris, lily, etc. Bulbs are spread over 6 acres, still there mostly, alive and colorful. Plus, hundreds of valuable landscaping sculptures are included."

[blueiscoool]

Iran Police Seize 2 Golden Elamite Masks More than 2000-Years-Old

The Bushehr provincial police chief seized some holy relics, including two more than 2,000-year-old golden masks, in an operation against antiquities smugglers.

The experts of the Cultural Heritage Department estimated that these objects are more than 2000 years old, dating back to the pre-Achaemenid period and the late Elamite period.

“The seized artifacts include two gold masks, a bowl, statues, and several pottery items,” Esmaeel Sajjadi-Manesh stated on Sunday. “Which experts from the provincial office have dated back to the Parthian and Elamite periods.”

“Among the items recovered, one of the most valuable is the gold mask, estimated to be over 2,000 years old,” he noted, “The mask was reportedly being sold for several billion tomans (about 50.000 USD) during the illegal transaction.”

The Elamite Empire is where Bushehr originated, according to research conducted in 1913 by a French excavation team. The Elamite civilization was an ancient culture located in what is now western Iran, existing roughly from 3000 to 500 BCE. Elamites are known for their rich artistic traditions and complex social structures.

Typically, Elamite period golden masks were used in burial rituals as a symbol of the passage to the afterlife. These masks often featured intricate designs and served as representations of the human face, imbued with religious or ritual significance. The craftsmanship of Elamite gold masks showcases detailed workmanship, often incorporating various symbols that reflect their beliefs and values.

These artifacts are very important for the understanding of Elamite culture and for obtaining information about social and religious practices.

By oguz kayra

[irish-dress-history]

Irish dress history sources online:

A list of sources for Irish dress history research that free to access on the internet:

Primary and period sources:

Text Sources:

Corpus of Electronic Texts (CELT): a database of historical texts from or about Ireland. Most have both their original text and, where applicable, an English translation. Authors include: Francisco de Cuellar, Luke Gernon, John Dymmok, Thomas Gainsford, Fynes Moryson, Edmund Spenser, Laurent Vital, Tadhg Dall Ó hUiginn

Images:

The Edwin Rae Collection: A collection of photographs of Irish carvings dating 1300-1600 taken by art historian Edwin Rae in the mid-20th c. Includes tomb effigies and other figural art.

National Library of Ireland: Has a nice collection of 18th-20th c. Irish art and photographs. Search their catalog or browse their flickr.

Irish Script on Screen: A collection of scans of medieval Irish manuscripts, including The Book of Ballymote.

The Book of Kells: Scans of the whole thing.

The Image of Irelande, with a Discoverie of Woodkarne by John Derricke published 1581. A piece of anti-Irish propaganda that should be used with caution. Illustrations. Complete text.

Secondary sources:

Irish History from Contemporary Sources (1509-1610) by Constantia Maxwell published 1923. Contains a nice collection of primary source quotes, but it sometimes modernizes the 16th c. English in ways that are detrimental to the accuracy, like changing 'cote' to 'coat'. The original text for many of them can be found on CELT, archive.org, or google books.

An Historical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish By Joseph Cooper Walker published 1788. Makes admirable use of primary sources, but because of Walker's assumption that Irish dress didn't change for the entirety of the Middle Ages, it is significantly flawed in a lot of its conclusions. Mostly only useful now for historiography. I discussed the images in this book here.

Chapter 18: Dress and Personal Adornment from A Smaller Social History of Ancient Ireland by P. W. Joyce published 1906. Suffers from similar problems to An Historical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish.

Consumption and Material Culture in Sixteenth-Century Ireland Susan Flavin's 2011 doctoral thesis. A valuable source on the kinds of materials that were available in 16th c Ireland.

A Descriptive Catalogue of the Antiquities in the Museum of the Royal Irish Academy Volumes 1 and 2 by William Wilde, published 1863. Obviously outdated, and some of Wilde's conclusions are wrong, because archaeologists didn't know how to date things in the 19th century, but his descriptions of the individual artifacts are worthwhile. Frustratingly, this is still the best catalog available to the public for the National Museum of Ireland Archaeology. Idk why the NMI doesn't have an online catalog, a lot museums do nowadays.

Volume I: Articles of stone, earthen, vegetable and animal materials; and of copper and bronze

Volume 2: A Descriptive Catalogue of the Antiquities of Gold in the Museum of the Royal Irish Academy

A Horsehair Woven Band from County Antrim, Ireland: Clues to the Past from a Later Bronze Age Masterwork by Elizabeth Wincott Heckett 1998

Jewellery, art and symbolism in Medieval Irish society by Mary Deevy in Art and Symbolism in Medieval Europe- Papers of the 'Medieval Europe Brugge 1997' Conference (page 77 of PDF)

Looking the part: dress and civic status and ethnicity in early-modern Ireland by Brid McGrath 2018

Irish Mantles, English Nationalism: Apparel and National Identity in Early Modern English and Irish Texts by John R Ziegler 2013

Dress and ornament in early medieval Ireland - exploring the evidence by Maureen Doyle 2014

Dress and accessories in the early Irish tale, ‘The Wooing of Becfhola’ by Niamh Whitfield 2006

A tenth century cloth from Bogstown Co. Meath by Elizabeth Wincott Heckett 2004

Tertiary Sources:

Medieval Ireland: An Encyclopedia edited by Sean Duffy published 2005

Re-Examining the Evidence: A Study of Medieval Irish Women's Dress from 750 to 900 CE by Alexandra McConnell