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sixstepsaway · 3 years ago

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My rant may have gotten a little unhinged there, so pardon the caps and and wild swerves in topic. You've got a great point in how their interactions show that they know Izzy is mostly talk. And Fang really is worried about poor Izzy's foot, isn't he? Also, in regards to that scene, when injured angry Izzy comes in snarling about the books not being thrown overboard, Ivan looks kinda taken aback. "It's a lot of books, Izzy." Not only is he comfortable talking back, Ivan seems surprised that Izzy would say something like that. I get the sense that while Izzy might be on everyone's ass about work, he isn't generally the type to push people to work harder if they're already doing their job. (I also think this suggests Izzy is afraid of Ed now in a way he wasn't before. They need to move fast, or who knows what Ed might do?) No one's had to deal with forced autocannibalism from Izzy on that crew. And I do know what you mean about the spat and pushing away with Stede. Ed tends to flee when rejected or feeling rejected. But my visions of the future have made me realize something so important. Point 1: We've established poor behavior on both Izzy and Fang's parts in regards to each other, and the need for communication. That means there's a good chance character development stuff might involve them communicating to one another. I have Reasons to believe the Izzy the Spewer incident might come up again as a topic for discussion. Point 2: Confirmed babygirl kinkster who is only capable of expressing physical affection toward men in violently charged interactions frequently pulls large, daddy-shaped man's beard. -dd anon

nonny. nonny. nonny. nonny of my heart. i've been staring at this fucking message since you sent it nonny and i havent gotten any less feral over my brain suddenly opening up and the skies parting and all i can see is izzy/fang. nonny. i had to sit here for this long before i could come up with a reply to the rest, nonny.

Okay, the rest:

I think maybe something that we're not really adding to our thoughts is that we've actually only really seen Izzy as attempting-to-be-first-mate of the Revenge? Not of Ed's ship?

So, as a brief rundown of the Revenge from what we've been shown so far: they are a crew who were scooped up from god knows where, on a ship that's pristine because it was literally built all of a month ago, the crew are being paid wages rather than having to work for their dinner, no one ever actually seems to do ship things except maybe Buttons who seems to have a clue what he's doing but I don't think I've seen him actually work either, and no matter how much some may argue they're real pirates, they all hide behind the ship in 1x01 when the English show up, just like Stede.

Furthermore, the ship's surgeon is actually the cook (and although he's sewed up his shoulder in the past and makes a bangin' orange cake and goes in to amputate Lucius' finger, we don't know that he's actually qualified to be the surgeon), Stede had no idea Jim was "really a woman" (I mean, they're not, but you get my drift for the early episodes), and in 1x02 they forgot to steer the ship, which is why they ran aground.

So when Izzy comes around in 1x05 and is trying to do his job, which is basically to oversee and wrangle the crew into doing their jobs, what he finds is that there are two functional crew members (Ivan and Fang, who they brought along from their ship), and a bunch of folks that... don't do their jobs.

Literally in 1x05 you have Frenchie who went off and put on nice clothes he found from their raid (which is not working, though he did look dapper), Stede and Ed very distracted by the invitation, Lucius and Stede swinging their legs watching Ivan do all the work of going through the bodies for loot, Fang who is--

Wait, hold on. What is Fang doing?

I mean the general, main answer is "attending Ed", which makes sense because they're on someone else's ship and it makes perfect sense to have Fang nearby while Ed and Stede are distracted, just in case something bad happens.

But what is he actively doing in this scene? Is he knitting? Sewing? What? What? WHAT IS HE DOING WITH HIS HANDS? You literally only see him in this shot and I am losing my mind because I want to know what he's doing???? fuck!

Anyway, Fang is off skinning a guy for Ed after this, Lucius and Pete are fucking in the storeroom amongst the food while Wee John takes a nap, Frenchie and Oluwande go over to the ship with Ed and Stede, and when you get wide shots you can see literally no one is working on that ship.

Izzy is losing his shit and yelling at Lucius because every time he turns his head, no one is doing anything. It's a ship! It needs a crew because the crew keep it moving and functioning and clean.

Like, I understand if cleaning barnacles isn't Lucius' job, but someone has to do it?

So Izzy is presented with a ship whose crew is just, not doing their jobs, and all we really get to see is Izzy yelling at them and trying his darndest to actually get them to work, while they're just like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ meh it practically sails itself.

What we don't see is how Ed's ship runs. We don't see how his crew work, we don't see whether Izzy has to yell at everyone on that ship or if all he has to do is hand out a chore roster and everyone does their jobs.

If everyone is doing their jobs and pulling their weight, it's likely that they're treated with the respect they've earned and deserve as working and functioning members of the crew, and that their needs are also seen to, and who would be in charge of seeing to their needs?

Izzy.

Extra points: in the books scene, Ivan calls Izzy by his first name, Fang calls him 'boss', but the tone he uses makes it sound less like a mandatory title like when Izzy tells Lucius he expects sir or first mate hands or god or whatever, and more like he's showing him respect in return, the respect he's earned from that crew.

I get the sense that while Izzy might be on everyone's ass about work, he isn't generally the type to push people to work harder if they're already doing their job. (I also think this suggests Izzy is afraid of Ed now in a way he wasn't before. They need to move fast, or who knows what Ed might do?) No one's had to deal with forced autocannibalism from Izzy on that crew.

This, too. There's "expects the crew to do their jobs" and there's "is unreasonable about it", and there's no actual demonstration that Izzy is ever unreasonable about it. He just wants them to do their jobs and pull their weight!

#izzy's dd anon #ask #izzy hands #izzy hands meta #ofmd #ofmd meta #our flag means death

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aziraphalescloset · 4 years ago

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Hello, world!

I’m making a new Tumblr for the express purpose of sharing photos of the various doll cosplay projects I create. It seems like an incredibly frivolous pastime and yet it brings me so much satisfaction. The Tumblr is named for Aziraphale, one of the two main characters in the book and show Good Omens. However, it will feature all the work I do on costumes for a variety of characters in film and fiction, and likely other sewing projects as well.

This is Aziradoll. He’s an American Girl Truly Me doll. American Girl dolls are 18 inches tall, jointed in only five places (hips and shoulders), with soft bodies and vinyl limbs and head. They’re more voluptuous than most dolls at this scale, which makes them a really good base for sewing -- you can comfortably sew everything on a sewing machine that you would sew by machine at full human scale. When I bought him I thought I’d trim his hair shorter but every time I look at those curls I feel such joy that I couldn’t possibly.

More detailed commentary and process photos after the jump.

I started with this collection of costume reference photos:

There are two main aspects to cosplay: the design and the materials. This is no different when executing cosplay at doll scale, except that the materials need to work properly at a quarter human scale. Patterns need to be smaller, and fabrics thinner. New fabrics are often too stiff, so worn fabrics from old clothes can be better. Especially for a character like Aziraphale, whom Neil Gaiman described as being like a comfortable old couch -- a little outdated, a little worn, but very comfortable and well-loved.

As you can see from the photos, Aziraphale is never pictured undressing beyond the exchange of the frock coat for the house coat. But fanfic clued me in to the fact that the trousers were old-fashioned and likely supported by braces, so I used this pattern to sew them, with minor alterations to the shape of the pockets and to make the button fly functional. I used a remnant of a very light wool suiting fabric that had a nice drape. (The shoes I already had.)

Next, the shirt. This one was pretty much straight from this pattern, a straight up reproduction of a men’s dress shirt at doll scale. I used one of my husband’s old dress shirts for the fabric -- an incredibly tight weave that was able to hold up to all the tiny details. It was worn from repeated washing, drapes nicely and holds creases, and had a tiny check pattern that looked nice even at 1/4 scale.

There’s no button at the collar because I have to keep room for the all-important tartan bowtie. I’m not happy with the fake leather material I made the braces out of, but they don’t show in the end so for now I’m leaving it.

I couldn’t find a pattern for anything like Aziraphale’s shawl-collared waistcoat. I made a Frankenstein of several other patterns and cut a draft version out of nonwoven fabric. After two iterations I was ready to cut the real fabric. I also made the bowtie while I was working out this pattern. The bowtie fabric is from a different one of my husband’s worn-out dress shirts.

The back and lining were remnants I picked up at fabric stores. The “velvet” front was from a pair of fine-wale corduroy pants that I wore and wore and wore until I wore through the butt. The fabric is so soft and worn, perfectly old-couch feeling.

The final waistcoat has functional pockets, because every garment should have functional pockets.

Only one step left: the frock coat. Again, I didn’t find a pattern, but I had already sewn a coat that had a lot of the right elements, this peacoat design with notched collar and princess seams. I had to fool around a little to figure out how to do the slit at the back and I really don’t want anybody to look too closely at the topology of the welt pockets with respect to coat and lining, but in the end, it looked pretty good. The fabric is another remnant, a taupe twill.

Sometime around this time I ordered Aziradoll.

There was one last detail: the pocketwatch and fob. The watch I had found a charm for, and chain was easy, but the fob was not a thing I could just buy. So I learned how to use polymer clay to form a shape and make a mold and then cast a thing and there it is. You may notice another Crowleyan costume element that I was creating at the same time.

Phew. That was quite a journey. Hello Aziradoll!

#Aziraphale #American Girl #Pixie Faire #18 inch doll #sewing #historical costume #Victorian #Good Omens

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 4 years ago

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gently rings a little bell in your ear My fic updated with two new chapters when you weren't paying attention! but now i am tilting your chin up with the point of my sword, forcing you to look. its very villainous and cool. this is part three of an increasingly convoluted story, part one can be found all the way over here but if you just want the high school romance stuff and don't care about found family, that's fine, i guess, but like, what's your deal

The weekend is a welcome relief from everything at school. He’s tired of feeling like shit, so Saturday, annoyingly bright and early, he startles Lydia awake by flopping on her bed. It causes her to bounce, and she groans, pulling the dark purple blanket further over her head. “Beetlejuice…” “I was thinkin’, today we should spend th’ whole day outdoors, in th’ park or somethin’,” he grins, and she lifts the blanket just barely, to glare at him. “You only want to play outside because all your stuff was taken away,” comes her accusation, and she’s not exactly wrong, but he just wiggles a hand under her blanket and gives her nose a poke. “Let’s go get lost, somewhere. Come on, Lyds, please?” She tries to hit him with a pillow but her grip is tired from sleep, and all she manages to do is shove the thing at him.

Twenty minutes later, she’s dressed and ready, bouncing on the balls of her feet, as he mulls over which button up to wear, the highlighter yellow with purple bugs, or the dark green with orange bones. They’re two equally ugly shirts that kind of give him a headache to look at, and both are favorites. “I can’t believe you woke me up at eight so I could stand around watching you go through your wardrobe.” “This is important.” He settles on the bugs, finally, and pulls it on before turning to Lydia, but she’s gone. He blinks, and sticks his head out his door, in time to headbutt her as she comes back in. Both siblings reel back and hold their heads. “Beetlejuice…” she groans. “Lyd-eee-uhhh,” he mimics her. She huffs and throws what she’d gone to her room to retrieve at him. He catches it, then stares. It’s his hoodie, his ruined one from that disastrous Halloween. He can still see that faded dark copper stain in some places, but it's better than it was. Also, the holes slashed in the arms have been very sloppily stitched with a thick, black embroidery thread. He looks back at his sister. “You seemed like you were having a hard week,” Lydia says, shuffling her feet. “I never sewed anything before, I’m sorry it looks kind of messy, and I tried really hard to get the bloodstains out...” He slips his familiar stripes back on and feels much more at ease. “It’s cool,” he tells her. “I like messy.” He holds open his arms and she falls into them, pressing her face against his stomach. It's a nice moment, and for once, he doesn’t feel inclined to ruin it, just pats his little sister’s head. “Love you.” “Love you too.”

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` Charles, ever an early riser, is surprised to see his children in the kitchen this bright eyed and bushy tailed on a Saturday. He’s pouring two coffees, one for himself and one for Emily, who is sitting at the table, head propped up on her hand, and still functionally asleep, when Betelgeuse and Lydia come bounding in to raid the fridge. “And what are you two getting up to today?” he asks, and the siblings pause to look at him. “Goin’ to th’ park.” “You think so?” Betelgeuse’s shoulder slump. “Seriously? You take all my stuff away an’ now I can’t even go out?” “You’re still in trouble. Why should you be allowed to go out and have fun?” “Cause that wasn’t specified!” Betelgeuse tries, and then turns to Emily. “Ma, tell him!” Emily mutters in her sleep, and Charles wordlessly sets the coffee down in front of her. The smell hits her nose, and robotically, she lifts the drink to her lips, eyes never opening. “Let BJ go do stuff,” she manages, maybe not as eloquent as she normally speaks, her voice gruff from sleep. Betelgeuse grins up at Charles. His father sips his own coffee, and then pats his son’s head. “Home before dark. No fire, no demon nonsense, no taking drugs from strangers.” “Home at midnight, commit arson, summon Satan, enjoy stranger candy. I gotcha.” Both his children receive a kiss on the head before stuffing Lydia’s little black coffin bag with snacks, and heading out.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````

It’s a big city, and there’s not a loss of things to do, especially with his powers, and there’s no adult supervision today. They find a café and enjoy a big breakfast, then he turns them invisible and they sneak away before the check comes, only reappearing a block later, Lydia grinning wildly. “Food tastes better stolen!” she says, and he pats her head. “There’s my little criminal.” They sneak into a movie, next, some horror thing Lydia had wanted to see that even Emily, the fun parent, had said she was too little for. It’s absolutely a gore fest, but not especially good, and they throw popcorn at the screen and cheer whenever the killer scores another victim.

“I think you’d die early in a slasher,” she says after, scattering their uneaten popcorn on the pavement in front of the theatre. She gets the attention of a whole flock of pigeons, which land and begin pecking at the kernels. “What’s your logic, there?” “You die on screen early and then the twist is you faked your death and were the killer.” “Ohh, classic. I love it.” “I’m a total final girl,” Lydia turns the half empty bucket upside down, much to the joy of the starving sky rats. “And then at the end, it’s like, I knew you were the killer the whole time, and I was just acting. Cause we’re in it together. You know, partners in crime.” He picks her up, slings her over his shoulder. “Always.”

He takes them to Central Park, next, holding her hand behind the theatre and apparating, accidentally, up a tree. She gasps and clings to him, and he digs his claws into the bark of the tree to steady them. “No worries, no worries. I just gotta..” They appear on the ground below, and Lydia looks dizzy. “Feels weird when you do that,” she tells him. “Like riding a rollercoaster, except your limbs are all asleep. But.. Kinda not that, at the same time.” It feels normal to him, but he regularly eats tin cans, so what does he know about normal to begin with?

Lydia takes her camera from her coffin bag, and readies it. It’s a little instamatic she got for her birthday, a few months ago, and she’s going through film like crazy, taking some pretty shitty pictures. He’s not that blunt to her face, though. It’s not like he was a rockstar on the ukulele when he first started, and she’s got a lot of enthusiasm for taking photos. He’s not going to be the one to squash that for her.

Also, he’ll bite off the hand of whoever tries.

“You think this can take pictures underwater?” she asks, aiming her camera at a random woman jogging by. The jogger makes a face, which seems to be what Lydia expects, because she snaps the picture as the woman continues on her way, and the little photo pops out the bottom. Lydia gives it an aggressive shake.

“I’m gonna guess no. Besides, it’s too cold for you to take a swim.” “So let’s go somewhere warmer. I’m thinking Hawaii.” “Good idea, genius, an’ how do you think we’re getting there?” “You can teleport us.”

He actually has to stop and think about that. “I don’t think I could do it in one straight shot,” he says at last. Lydia has moved to a different kind of voyeurism, because she’s on her stomach on the grass, following the movement of a trail of ants with her lens. “I’d probably have to do little distances, an’ get tired and need a nap in th’ middle.”

“Maybe through a mirror? Like Sam?” She adjusts the optic, an entirely useless motion, because this camera doesn’t have any kind of zoom feature. But she’s seen people do it in nature documentaries. “Never done mirror travel before.” He mulls that over. “I’ll practice when I get home, an’ see if I can even pull you through.” “You’re not allowed to go to Hawaii without me,” she gets what she considers her perfect shot, and then stands, brushing off her dark red dress. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They go bone hunting next, Lydia’s camera still at the ready, his keen nose leading the way. It’s easy to find owl pellets, and she breaks one open with her bare hands, as he teases her.

“Ew ew ew, Lydia gross, you’re touching it!” he pitches up his gruff voice to sound like a tweenage girl, and she rolls her eyes. “No skull in this one,” she frowns, wiping her hands on his hoodie.

“Maybe there’s a bodiless mouse head around here, livin’ it’s best life.” She looks doubtful.

Another, different smell hits his sensitive nose, just then. It’s death, new and fresh. His pupils dilate, and he follows it, her trailing after him, assuming he’s on the scent of more animal bones. What they find instead is an old man propped against a tree. He’s still warm, but the color is draining from his face, and rapidly. He doesn’t look hurt, he’s not bleeding. It’s like he sat down for a rest and died.

Lydia doesn’t get it, not right away. Death is a funny punchline in an overly gorey movie. She’s never seen the real thing, before. “Should we wake him up? It’s cold to be sleeping here.” He lifts the man’s arm, and it flops bonelessly back down. Her eyes go wide. “I doubt he’s gettin’ back up, kiddo.” She lifts her camera and takes a picture.

“Hello?” He hears a voice, and turns. The old man is standing next to himself. He looks back at Lydia, but she’s staring in fascination at the corpse, so he leaves her to it. “Hey,” he nods to the man, who looks relieved. “Can you call my grandson? My phone battery died,” he says, not seeming to understand the position he’s in. Betelgeuse tilts his head to the side. “You’re dead,” he says, a bit unkindly, and Lydia, who has been kneeling by the body, poking it, looks up at him. “I am?” “Wh- No, not you, Lyds, th’ stiff.” He gestures to the ghost, who has seemed to notice “himself” laying there. Lydia looks at her brother, confused. “There’s no one there.” “Sure there is. You just can’t see ghosts.”

“That’s me,” the old man says, not that anyone’s listening to him. “Should we tell someone about this?” Lydia asks him, and Betelgeuse shrugs. “Why? Someone will find th’ body eventually. You know. When it starts smellin’ like shit.” “I don’t want to leave him out here.” “Please, don’t leave me out here!” “I wouldn’t want to be left out here.” “Lucky for you, you’re never gonna die. You even try it an’ I’ll shove your soul back down your throat, if I have to.”

He smells the netherworld, and grabs Lydia, pulling her back, in time for another ghost to appear. A guide. The guide doesn’t even take a moment to look around, just instantly busies herself with getting the newly dead situated, and Betelgeuse picks Lydia up and carries her away. “That’s so sad,” she says, taking one last picture of the body from atop his shoulder. “I guess.”

They find the next official looking person they see, someone cleaning up trash, who doesn’t believe them, clearly, until he sees one of the photos Lydia took. The deathly pallor of the old man convinces him to go looking. Thirty minutes later, that part of the park is crawling with breathers, and the two of them are stuck on a bench, being talked to by cops. It’s a whole, boring process, and it’s drawing a big crowd. “Told ya, we shoulda minded our business,” Betelgeuse nudges his sister. Lydia is looking overwhelmed. Neither sibling ever gets this much attention. There’s even a news crew, though he can’t imagine what for. It’s just one old dead guy, and it’s not even a murder. Someone with a microphone tries to approach them, and he turns their mic into a black and white striped snake, forcing them to fling it away from themselves in a panic, and then he grabs Lydia.

They blink from existence and appear a ways away, and Lydia’s clutching his hand harder than she needs to. “Hey, come on.” His grating voice is soft, for her, as he kneels to her level, and she throws her arms around his neck. “How are you so calm? Doesn’t it make you sad?” she asks, softly, and he gives her an extra squeeze. “Happens to all breathers, Lyds. But it’s not somethin’ I gotta worry about, ever. So… no, not really.”

“Will you be sad when I die?”

He scoops her up, holding his little sister in his arms, and stands, her still clinging around his neck. “When you die at a hundred and twenty,” he tells her, carrying her along the path. “Wherever in the netherworld you end up, I’ll go too. Won’t even have time to be sad, me an’ you’ll be too busy causin’ trouble, even then.” She seems satisfied with that answer, and he doesn’t mind carrying her, so they enjoy the autumn leaves like that, her in his arms, as he follows the winding pathways of the park.

They don’t tell Charles and Emily, when they finally do get home, the sun just barely still peaking over the horizon. It doesn’t seem like a good idea, and Lydia doesn’t especially want to talk about it anymore. She pins her new photos up on the twine strung between the tall bedposts in her room. There’s a couple nice ones, and she lets him eat the ones she decides she hates. “Does it count as part of being grounded if you watch my tv?” she asks, and he grins. “Let’s find out.” She pops in Coraline, which he has to assume she’s got fucking memorized at this point, but they also talk through most of it. By the time the tasty looking bug furniture is on screen, her eyelids are drooping. “I dunno why they make her eatin’ bugs so evil. I wanna try beetles from Zanzibar,” he complains, and she just snorts in response “I’ll get you some fancy beetles, for your birthday.” “Kay. Sounds good.” She falls asleep on him a minute later, and he waives a hand, snuffing the lights, but lets the movie finish playing as he settles next to her, and sleeps.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` That next week is boring, but normal. Adam’s in the library every day, despite his earlier insistence that he had better things to do. Betelgeuse honestly just wheels the cart along and lets Adam shelf the books, now, which the nerd seems to unironically enjoy. He’s all smiles as he gets to put things away neatly. It’s embarrassing how endearing and cute Betelgeuse finds that. It’s Tuesday, Barbara isn’t there that day, at least, not right at that moment, so Adam is babbling about her. “Barbara and I aren’t really performers,” he’s telling Betelgeuse, returning a stack of history books to their proper places on the shelves. “But we thought it would be fun to try theatre together, and then we really enjoyed it, so we’ve been in the last two productions. She can really sing, she does this high note, and it’s-” “Angelic, I bet.” Both boys give a stupid, love sick sigh. Adam pauses, and nods, and then studies the other teen. “So.. You.. You like her?” “Yeah,” he says easily. “But that doesn’t mean anythin’.” “What do you mean?” “I mean,” he clarifies, flopping across the cart, stomach first, and laying on it, staring down at Adam, who is crouching to reshelf some more books. “That despite me being a hot piece of ass, I’m probably not her type. I imagine she goes more for…” he studies Adam, trying to think of a nice word for boring, plain and vanilla. “More stable guys,” he lands on. “Like you. I bet she even likes how cute your butt looks in your khakis. I know I do.” Adam flushes. “You think so?” “It’s a good butt.” He nods, and Adam goes redder. “I meant, you think Barbara.. Might like me?” “Well, don’t push your luck, or nothin’, but you probably got a better chance with her.”

“You’re not entirely unlikable,” Adam offers. Betelgeuse lets out a guffaw that’s too loud, because someone in the next aisle over shushes him. “You already forget what I told you Friday?” he rests his head on his hand, tone condescending. “I know no one wants me around.”

“You’re setting yourself up for failure, with that attitude.”

“You think so, huh? Think I just need to hold hands round th’ campfire and sing kumbaya with all you breathers? I don’t think anyone would even take my hand. Probably couldn't get away from me fast enough.” There’s a pause. He doesn’t realize what he’s said until Adam is repeating it. “Breathers?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply, because he feels a push on the cart, and turns to see Barbara, hands on the handle. “You’ve completely given up even trying, haven’t you?” she says, and he thinks she means about the books, and smiles. “No point. Adam’ll just do it for me.” “I mean with talking to people. With making friends.” His smile falls quickly into a scowl, and he runs a hand through his wild mess of green hair. “Lay off me, Babs. I’m bein’ friendly right now, aren’t I?”

“Sure, it’s plenty friendly, letting Adam do your work. But you don’t try, and then you get your feelings hurt when no one does it for you.” That’s not laying off, and it’s irritating him. “You can’t imagine anyone being nice to you, so you’re rude and push everyone away the first chance you get, in case what? In case you make a friend? Kevin probably needs you, right now,” she presses, physically too, making the cart he’s still lying across lurch forward. “I told you what happened to his dad, and you just said he wasn’t even your friend, when everyone knows you spent the last few months holding hands and making googoo eyes at him, and only talking to each other.”

“S’none of your business,” he tugs at his hair, pulling a tuft down to watch the color. Still green. He’s okay, but he keeps it there, in front of his eyes, focusing on it and not having to look at Barbara. “I’m making it my business. What are you so afraid of? What’s with the barrier? I saw you with your sister, you’re normal and nice, to her. So it’s other people you’re afraid of?” “M’not,” he growls out, standing up off the cart. “Afraid of anythin’.”

“You are,” she says, letting go of the cart and stomping to stand in front of him. She’s got him cornered, his back pressed to the bookshelf behind him. He keeps his eyes on that green tuft, biting his bottom lip. “You’re afraid of rejection, so you don’t talk, or you’re a jerk to people. You’re so afraid of other people, you make yourself sit alone every day, even when there’s an empty seat next to someone else.”

“No one wants me around!”

God, that hurts. He can see purple forming in the tip of his hair.

“You think I haven’t tried?” he rasps at her, letting his hair go, and finally looking directly at her. “You think I like sittin’ alone, bein’ the weird kid in every class, not havin’ anyone to talk to? It sucks!” he hears himself being shushed again, and he expends a burst of power in that direction, knocking books off the shelves to hit the person who can’t mind their own business. The sudden noise makes both Adam and Barbara jump. “You ever noticed that anytime I’ve tried, people can’t get th’ hell away from me fast enough? I’m tired of bein’ alone, but every time I try, somethin’ goes to shit, or I'm ignored! So maybe it is easier to just be a jerk an’ not worry about gettin’ hurt, than to keep tryin’ and ache all th’ time.”

It’s the most honest he’s ever been, out loud. Barbara clenches her fists, but doesn’t say anything. He sees Adam push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Lunch isn’t even close to over, and he’s just made more work for himself by knocking those books off the shelf, but he doesn’t care. He grabs his backpack from the cart and pushes past the two of them, and he storms out, forcing the library door to slam, even though it’s a soft close door. It feels more final, that way.

He spends the rest of lunch invisible, to avoid any more trouble with adults, and slumps into his customary seat in the back of every class, for the rest of the day. No one talks to him. He doesn’t try to talk to anyone. It’s a system, it works. Stupid Barbara. What does she even know? Like she can somehow understand anything he’s going through. She’s pretty, and cool, and has a ton of friends, he thinks, absolutely bitter. She doesn’t get it.

He trudges to the drama room after school, and pushes open the door with his shoulder. The seats are in a circle, again, and he chooses a random one, pointedly, away from Adam and Barbara, between two other people. He sits there, silent, and after a moment, the two kids both move seats. How miserably predictable. Come on, he wills himself. No purple, no red. Just stay green. You can go home and freak the fuck out, but just stay green, he begs his hair.

He wipes his nose hard with his hoodie sleeve, and focuses on that, on the texture of the fabric and the way he rubs hard enough for it to hurt. Pain is as close to relief as he can get. Then the chairs next to him are scooted closer, and he blinks, and realizes that Adam and Barbara have settled on either side of him. He doesn’t.. Get it. He can’t understand, but then both of them reach a hand out, and take one of his, and give it a squeeze. It’s grounding. He takes a breath he doesn’t need, and then a couple more, shaky and painful, and he gives their hands a squeeze back, like he’s making sure they’re real. They are.

When the club starts, he tries, very sincerely, to focus on what’s being said, and not the bright hot feeling blooming like a flower in his chest. Read the rest here!!

#beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fanfiction #adam maitland #barbara maitland #emily deetz #lydia deetz #beetlejuice broadway

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chipsfics · 4 years ago

Text

Part 3 - Discovery/Creativity

Part 3 is here!

Rated: PG-13 (heavy themes, swearing)

WARNING! this chapter contains light mentions of self harm! please do not read if this will upset you!

~~~~ The next morning, It was surprisingly quiet- Everyone was doing their own thing, most were sleeping in due to the lazy feeling that comes with most sundays. Yinyang, of course, slept in. They were technically not allowed to leave the hotel until the game was over- But Yinyang didn't really have anywhere to go anyway. Even if he decided to go "home", he didn't have anything for him there- Everything he'd left behind didn't mean anything to him. The other contestants, though, were obviously itching for the show to finally close it's curtains. Cherries, Yinyang's roommate, spent most of their time bouncing ideas off each other and having dull conversations in almost frightening synchrony.

From what Yinyang overheard, they were getting impatient when it came to Inanimate Insanity's finale. In a way, Yinyang and Cherries were similar, but in a lot of ways they absolutely weren't. For one thing, the Cherries got along. Of course, things were okay. Yinyang was used to being cooped up, be it in his own mind, his own body- And Tissues obviously felt the same. He didn't get out much, for obvious reasons. Yinyang got up, yawning, stretching, and blinking slowly to life- It was around 1pm, and once they got up and fought for a little while over which toothbrush to use, they finally finished up their morning routine and exited their room. To their surprise, they found Tissues slumped against the wall next to their door, clutching a half full water bottle and snoring gently. Yinyang debated whether to wake him up. Eventually Yinyang nudged his shoulder gently.

"H...Wuhuh.." Tissues blinked awake and looked around.

"Tissues! What're you doing out here?" Yinyang said. "Are you alright?"

"Oh uhhh..." Tissues slowly seemed to be coming alive. "Wha.... Oh yeah, I- Sniff. Walked over here this mornin' and tried to knock on your door, but you guyse didn't answer. So i just waited," Tissues wiped his nose. "I guess i fell asleep. Was that... okay? Did i do something wrong?"

"Oh, no no, it's alright!" Yin reassured him. "Why did you come here in the first place?" Yang said plainly.

"I wanted to thank you," Tissues said, heaving himself up into a standing position. "For being so nice to me yesterday. I don't think I would be feeling so much better now if it weren't for you guyse," Tissues wobbled a bit, holding his head. "I mean... i still feel bad, but..." There was a small silence.

"O-oh. It's no problem," Yinyang answered bashfully. "Anything for a friend!" Yin added.

"A friend?" Tissues smiled, his eyes having a strange twinkle in them. Yinyang couldn't help but smile at his goofiness.

"Are you... Alright?? Do you need help getting back to your room?" Yin said, concerned.

"Hhuuhhh.. No. I wasn't gonna- I was gonna- uhh. ask if you wanted to uhhh. Hang out? Cause I was out of commission yesterday." Tissues stuttered.

"Well sure," Yinyang said, shrugging. "But what would we do?"

"Thats the thing. I didn't think of anything before i fell asleep," Tissues laughed awkwardly.

"Oh." Yinyang giggled. "We could just see if there's anything on downstairs,"

"Sure thing." Tissues smiled, and grabbed Yinyang's hand.

Down the elevator, through twisting orange-yellow hallways, two friends holding hands less out of affection and more just so they don't separate. Tissues' head suddenly jolted to the side and he stopped suddenly, inertia causing Yinyang to bump into him. This time the sheer force from the collision sent Tissues face first into the hotel carpet.

"God damnit." Yang cursed. "Be nice," Yin said, which earned him a small slap in the face. "Are you okay, Tissues?"

"HAAHH-" Tissues heaved himself up. "What is that?" Tissues pointed to a spot of orange wallpaper, near the floor in a small, slightly secluded corner of the hotel hallway.

"What is what?" Yang said, looking at where he was pointing. Upon closer inspection, the place where Tissues was pointing at looked... strange. Under the wallpaper, there seemed to be a small square imprint of something that looked a lot like a miniature door.

"Wait, you're right. There's definitely something there," Yinyang said.

Tissues scooted up closer to it on his knees and inspected the strange imprint. "It looks like something was wallpapered over here."

"Let's rip it open," Yang said devilishly. "No!! We don't know what it is," Yin said.

"Don't you wanna know, though?" Yang responded. "But- It might be private! Or dangerous," Yin said back. While the two were busy arguing, Tissues was already picking away at the wallpaper until he found somewhere where he could start ripping.

RRRIIIPPP... The wallpaper was surprisingly weak and yielded easily. The two halves instantly dropped their argument when they saw what was behind the wallpaper- A small wooden door made of darkly stained wood. It looked old, and the doorknob was missing. Just as they had expected- a mystery door. It was much too small for anyone to fit into, but it seemed like it could be pried open... What could possibly be inside?

"Should we open it?" Tissues said.

"No! We've seen enough. What if we get in trouble with OJ?" Yin whined. "So? Admit it, you also want to see what's behind there." Yang responded, obviously annoyed.

"We're not opening it." Yin said seriously.

"I'm gonna open it," Tissues said.

"Not you too, Tissues!" Yin gasped. Yang laughed. "Yes, yes open it!" He said, baring his sharp teeth.

Tissues tried to dig his fingers into the doorframe to open it up, and it came open easy as if it were magic. The inside was completely dark, an almost inky blackness- and the way the light was positioned wasn't illuminating what was inside. Tissues' jaw hung open. A small spider crawled out of the hole in a hurry, and he stumbled back in surprise.

"Woah... What do you think .... Do you have your phone..? We could use the flashlight." Yinyang said, and Tissues fumbled a bit before he reached up and plunged his hand into the top of his head, the slit where the actual tissue part of Tissues is dispensed- and he rummaged around inside himself for a couple seconds, much to Yinyang's surprise. Tissues pulled out his phone after a couple seconds, powering it on and struggling for a couple seconds before turning on the flashlight function. The beam of light cut through the darkness like a hot knife through butter. Both of them peered into the doorway.

The inside was almost empty, save for a large stack of what appeared to be magazines. The walls were made of bare planks of wood with insulation peeking through the cracks- as well as a huge pipe going along the back. After a couple seconds of hushed, awed silence, Tissues reached in and pulled out the large stack. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, as if nobody had touched it in a long time. Tissues blew on it, and dust flew into the air.

"HACK- COUGH, COUGH... HUHH.." Tissues examined the cover of the top magazine. It seemed to be very old- The paper was yellowed and it appeared to be a wildlife magazine. The cover was plastered all over with still- vibrant green flora with several small purple bugs resting on the leaves of the cover- Tissues held it up and Yinyang leaned in close to inspect the cover further. In big, black, blocky font was the name of the magazine in some kind of unfamiliar foreign language.

"Woah.... What's this doing here?" Tissues said. "Who do you think is hiding these?" He said, moving on to the next magazine, which seemed similar, but this time it appeared to be a magazine about cars- Super old ones. The next one was almost the same, except it looked to be a modeling and makeup magazine. All of them were in the same foreign language- which looked similar to Chinese or Korean.

"What in the world..?" Yinyang said. "Who knew... Stuff like this was hiding in the hotel. It was only built a couple years ago, and..." Yinyang trailed off mid-sentence when they flipped to a magazine that appeared to be advertising the very first Melife products. Big bulky computers, old monitors, and even the very first Flip MePhone were sprawled across the cover. "Woah.. This one's super old,"

"Do you think anyone would mind if we took these?" Tissues said aloud. "I think it'd be cool if we could look at em in detail," He continued. "But I don't know how to read this. Do you know what language this is?"

"Hmm. I don't know, actually." Yinyang said. "We don't speak anything but English and Italian."

"Hmmm.... I'll ask OJ about them. You two wait here and guard the magazines, I'm pretty sure I know where he's at." Tissues said, getting up. Before he could leave, Yinyang grabbed his wrist with a certain forcefulness.

"No. It's okay," Yinyang said, deadpan, without looking Tissues in the eyes.. "I really wanna read these. We'll return them later, I promise."

Tissues seemed a bit offput. "Wha.... Well... um... uhh. Sure," Tissues laughed. He wasn't about to start to argue. He sat back down and noticed that Yinyang was staring at a particular magazine. It was at the very bottom of the pile,

and looked to be a lot newer- It was in English too. It seemed like a crafting magazine, with buttons and sewing supplies on the cover. Yinyang was seemingly fixated on another fact, though, which was that a large white piece of paper was tucked in between two of the pages. He pulled it out slowly and saw that there was handwriting scrawled hastily on it in marker- Also in English.

"TRY MAKING A COLLAGE"

The two objects just stared at it in awe. "This thing just keeps getting weirder," Tissues said aloud. "Who do you think these are for?"

"I have no idea," Yinyang said, "Do you think...? Maybe whoever left it here was just waiting for someone to find it,"

"Maybe." Tissues said. "I still say we ask OJ,"

"Are you kidding? He'll kill us," Yang said. "We shouldn't have opened the door in the first place. But i agree, the last thing we need is him to be mad at us." Yin continued.

"You've got a point." Tissues said. "Do you want to.... Y'know, take them? The magazines?"

"Yeah, let's hurry. It's only a little while before someone notices and asks what we're doing," Yinyang said harshly.

"Hehe, our first mystery adventure together!" Tissues said, giggling in a hushed voice. He stacked the magazines hurriedly, giving half the stack to his partner in crime before they made a break for it. Tissues closed the small door behind him using his foot. The entire time running, Tissues was trying his best to keep up with his rushed gait that was less like a run and more like a waddle.

Up the elevator, through twisting orange-yellow hallways, and back to where they started from. The only person who caught them on the way up was Pickle- But he was absorbed in his headphones and didn't seem to really care what the two weirdos were up to. Once they got to their door- Tissues dropped the stack he was carrying and wiped the sweat off his forehead, trying to catch his breath.

"Ok, we're here, you got it from here?" Tissues said, out of breath. “Huff, huff..” Yinyang opened the door, and the Cherries were sitting in bed and reading 2 copies of the same book. He hastily sneaked past the twins, and placed the stack next to his bed, Tissues trailing after him. Yinyang flopped onto his bed and sighed.

"That was stressful!" Yin cried. "Well we made it," Yang continued.

"That was surely something," Tissues said, giggling. "I feel like i could take on the world... That was the most adventure i've had like, ever." Tissues climbed into Yinyang's bed and tucked himself in. "Goodnight, i'm going to bed and never getting up ever. My life is complete." Yinyang laughed and shoved him. He slipped and fell off the bed with a yelp.

"Hey! That was mean." Tissues said, laughing.

"Sorry!" Yin said, giggling and kicking the covers off so he could reach down and help Tissues crawl back up onto their bed. Tissues stumbled and ended up uncomfortably close to Yinyang's face, both of them starting to blush. Yinyang laughed, the same crystal clear, genuine laugh- Tissues couldn't help but smile as a warm feeling flooded his chest. Was this what having friends was like?

The rest of the night was spent together with the TV on. Cherries didn't seem to mind.

~~~~

WARNING: The next part has slight mentions of self harm. Beware and don’t read if this will upset you!

~~~~

By the time Yinyang woke up, Tissues was gone. He just assumed that he'd gone back to his room- Tissues' sleep schedule was entirely unpredictable. One of the many symptoms of his condition- Wait, his condi-shawn, but Yinyang always tended to sleep in. Even when he wanted to get up early, One half always argued to sleep longer until the other half gave in. He tossed and turned in his sleep a lot.

Yinyang woke up, cracked his knuckles, and looked over to the side of the bed. The magazines were still there, untouched, in the same haphazard skewed stack- The note kept echoing in their minds. Something so special, something so personal was living right under his nose in the hotel and he didn't even notice? The spiritual side of Yinyang couldn't help but think that the note was for him. A sign of some kind. It didn't help that it was so plainly ordering him to do something.

"TRY MAKING A COLLAGE"

The phrase bounced around inside his head like a ping pong ball. He sighed and got up, reaching his hand in between his mattress and his box spring- Rummaging around and pulling out an old pair of metal scissors with a black plastic handle. Yinyang looked at it and frowned, looked back at his wrist, which was scarred with criss-crosses, and put the scissors on his bedside table. It'd been a long time since he had last hurt himself, and he was determined to give that old pair of scissors new life. This was the most in sync his two halves had felt in a long time. Yin and Yang tend to get along well when they decide that something is serious. He got up out of bed, went downstairs clinging to the metal handle the entire way down, and knocked on the door of OJ's office.

"What is it?" OJ's voice answered from behind the door.

"It's just us. Can we borrow something?"

"Yinyang? What do you want?" OJ said, walking over to the door and opening it.

"Can we borrow some paper and some glue?" Yinyang said bashfully.

"What for?" OJ said, looking Yinyang up and down inquisitively.

"A.... collage." Yinyang said quietly.

"A what?" OJ said.

"It'sforacollage," Yinyang said again.

"Huh?"

"It's for. a. collage." Yinyang said, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh. Sure! I didn't take you as the arts and crafts type," OJ teased.

"Shut up or i'll drink you," Yang growled.

"Jeez, don't get snippy. I'll bring that out for ya, just give me a second. I've only got glue sticks, if that's okay?" OJ said. "And I don't have any magazines or pictures or anything like that. Do you have your own?"

"Yup. Sounds good," Yin said cheerily. "I'll bring everything back that I don't use,"

OJ turned around and looked inside one of his file cabinets- His office was usually cluttered and he only spent about an hour a day in there managing the hotel. He got what he needed, and handed Yinyang a medium sized piece of posterboard and a gluestick with the seal still unbroken. Yinyang nodded and grabbed them.

"Thanks!" He said.

"No problem!" OJ said, sighing and closing the office door behind him. Yinyang made their way back to their bedroom, thinking about what they were going to make. Yin and Yang had different ideas- But in their mindscape, they seemed to coexist and mash together into something wonderful and surreal, blending together into a mash of words and sounds and pictures. Before they knew it, they were sitting down sprawled on their bedroom floor organizing magazine clippings.

Yinyang just cut out anything that caught his eye. It felt good to be holding these scissors to make something beautiful and passionate instead of using them for harm- Most of the clippings he ended up cutting out were from the first 3 that he grabbed from the pile.

After that, it was just blur of scissors, paper and glue- He cut out every single Melife product almost surgically and filled their screens with butterflies. Cluttered imagery of thick vines twisting around scientific diagrams of the brain, monochrome intertwined with overgrown flora. His halves were working independently but smoothly communicating with one another- They had different visions, but the purpose of the collage as an art form is to combine things together into a slurry of emotions and vivid images. Once he was done, the finished collage was giant, beautiful and terrifying, a lot of the clippings hanging off of the edges of the posterboard.

Yinyang sat back and just stared at it for a while. He should make collages more often.

~~~~

About an hour later, Yinyang's MePhone started to vibrate and ring violently, and he jumped. Looking at the screen, it was an unsaved number- But he didn't usually get calls, so he answered it. "Hello?" "Uhhhhh Hai guyse, what's your favorite pizza topping?" It was unmistakably Tissues. "Ummm... Olives?" They said. "Ok BAI GUYSE!" Tissues said and immediately hung up the phone. Huh. Weird.

~~~~

#hope you enjoy!#tissyang #tissuyang #yissues #fanfic #fanfiction #ii #inanimate insanity #ii2

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wafflepatterns · 4 years ago

Photo

Meet new sewing pattern <Yomogi> Shirt jacket

A new item for the fall season is just released from Waffle Patterns. Meet Shirt jacket <Yomogi> sewing pattern. A safari jacket inspired design with many functional details.

I love the classic safari shirt design because it’s functional sportswear but still looks neat and smart. Also, I saw a lot of safari jacket inspired runway look in recent seasons. Since this item is on my to-make list years long, I’m so happy finally can release it.

The base of the design is a regular fit shirt jacket with waist shaping. Of course, there are many pockets with design options including an inside pocket. Please play with the options and make it as you like. Depending on the fabric, it is going to be a very authentic safari shirt with khaki cotton twill or a vintage style with tweed wool fabric.

This shirt jacket has 2 chest pockets, 2 waist pockets, and an inside pocket. Both the chest and waist pocket are patch pockets, so very easy to install.

The waist pocket design has 2 options. One is a patch pocket with flap and pleat. The other is a layered pocket with 2 pocket openings, it can be used as a hand warmer pocket. Please see the photo below about the detail.

The front opening has 2 options, too; a standard button closure or a hidden button stands. The brick-red sample in the photos shows the standard button opening. I attached large buttons for making them a design point. The gray herringbone sample features a hidden button stand. I like that makes a neat minimal style. You can also make with or without pockets. Please choose them as your fabric and design intension.

The pattern is drafted for woven fabrics. Light - medium weight jacket fabrics will be suitable. For the classic safari jacket, cotton twill, chino or duck will be nice options. I think wool, denim, corduroy, tweed, faux leather will be great, too.

The brick-red sample is cotton twill. I like the bright color and it’s very easy to sew and iron. I combine this very fun Koi print cotton as a liner. If you want to use non-lining fabric for liner like this, it is better to use for only bodice parts and use normal slippery lining material for sleeve parts for comfort.

The gray sample is mixed wool herringbone. I like this vintage and classic look! Maybe I should make matching pants and wear them like a suit.

I wanted to make one more with houndstooth wool. Unfortunately, under current measure influences, I could not find the perfect fabric in time.

<Other> You can make with or without lining. The instruction shows both ways. There are no big differences except the cuff opening part. Please check the instruction about the details of how to sew the cuff opening w/wo lining.

The interfacing on the Yoke parts is optional. If you want to make like a shirt, without interfacing will be no problem. I did not use on the brick-red sample, because the fabric is stiff enough. But I used on the gray wool sample for adding the structure on the soft material. Please choose depending on your fabric and your design intension.

********************* The sewing pattern includes the 19 pages instruction and all the sewing processes are described with detailed illustrations. The pattern files are available for both home printers (A4 or USletter) and copy shop(A0/A1 format).

You can check other photos of this model on my Flickr page.

The shirt jacket -Yomogi- (size 32-52) PDF sewing pattern is available here. Also in the Etsy shop.

Special discount price until 20th Oct with other fall/winter patterns. No discount code is needed! The sale page is here.

***** Special offer +13EUR for Paper pattern and free shipping Paper pattern + PDF option is available with plus 13EUR. Shipping worldwide. But please note that, in the current situation, all the shipments are affected by the measure of COVID-19. There might be some shipping delays or accidents. *The paper includes only the pattern, please print out the instruction by yourself or read it with your tablet or PC. The PDF + Paper listing page is here.

*In the sale period, the shipping of the paper pattern starts 21st Oct.

Enjoy your sewing!

(Japanese post here 日本語ポストはこちら).

*********************

follow me! Instagram /// Twitter /// Facebook /// Shop /// Pinterest /// Newsletter

#sewing #sewing patterns #waffle patterns #shirt #jacket #DIY fashion #other tip #other tips

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ahostandaghost · 4 years ago

Note

All for whoever you want

All then :eyes:

☾ - sleep headcanon

Bane:

Sleeps like a rock some nights, too restless to sleep others. This is especially so if he can’t get any physical activity in, in a day. He needs to move a lot during the day to get all that energy out bc well. He’s a very active person

Zsasz:

Has NO trouble getting sleep, but can also choose to not and he’d be fine? He’s kinda alien like that way. He can also survive on 4 hours a night. Lucky bastard

Lonnie:

Can’t sleep without being held once in a relationship. He’s very independent as a person, but like. Hold him

Jason:

Tosses and turns a lot. Talks in his sleep. He snores but not too bad, it’s very soft

Jonnie:

Lots of nightmares, like Jason, and may get up in the middle of the night if he can’t sleep. He’ll get up and start reading or studying, either with coffee or tea. Might bake, so that’s always nice to wake up to

★ - sad headcanon

Bane:

He has a mix of clausterphobia and loving cramped spaces. If he doesn’t think about being trapped, he’s fine. It stems from the years spent in a prison cell as a child, so he can’t think he’s being contained for too long.

Zsasz:

Locked in a closet frequently as a child for misbehaving, isolated too. His parents had a strict idea of what “misbehaving” was. He’s autistic as well so this happened quite a bit. Being alone so much made him put on this act because he had to learn to entertain himself. Never learned to keep some comments to himself also due to isolation.

Lonnie:

Being the Joker’s son is sad enough tbh, but I headcanon that his mom didn’t want him due to him being an unwanted pregnancy and was cruel to him. She doesn’t think her actions are abusive so he ran from home as soon as he was 18.

Jason:

I don’t think any headcanon I have for him can be any more sad than what happened to him in canon I mean christ

Jonnie:

Lost a patient once to suicide and sometimes pays for a bouquet to be sent to their grave when he can’t stop thinking about them

☆ - happy headcanon

Bane:

He loves those huge ass plushies. He likes it when they’re as big as he is. Idk he just likes big things. He’s like those guys who visit the tiny town to be bigger than everything else, except also for things that are as big as he is bc he’s huge

Zsasz:

WILL dance with you in a vaguely “I’m going to kill you” threatening way and laugh after. Won’t kill you, just wants your reaction and to tease. Loves especially doing the dip thing. It’s rly cute and he only does this when he’s feeling really happy

Lonnie:

Hands deep in a Spencer’s button bin and running out, stealing as many as he can. Need I say more

Jason:

He likes being given outfits to wear by someone who knows him well enough to pick out something he’d love. He’s not hard to please, but you gotta get that aesthetic just right. He WILL immediately put it on. If he loves it he will pick you up and spin you like a doll. Especially if it comes with a really nice pair of boots and jacket

Jonnie:

Whip cream nose boop while baking oh I yearn. He likes to have music playing while he bakes. Will sing softly along if he knows the song well enough. If he knows you’re there and he trusts you he won’t stop. He might be a bit embarrassed but he likes the intimacy. It’s a very quiet joy but !!

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

Bane:

Well we all already know he can break just about anything. He’s slow to actually anger, but like. Expect broken bones at least. If he’s angry at someone he cares about, he will either try to talk it out or leave to go workout and then come back when he feels better to resolve whatever happened.

Zsasz:

Even harder to make truly angry. He’s very flat on emotions. He likes to be silly yeah, but he’s just not intensely emotional. If he’s REALLY angry for any reason, he will distract himself. Work or shooting range, researching targets. Whatever it takes to smooth it over inside before facing it

Lonnie:

Maltov cocktail. Arson. Vaguely threatening wall tags along that person’s daily route. Like. He can be a little petty. As a treat.

Jason:

Explosive temper. Not afraid to throw a punch. He doesn’t like to feel disrespected. Especially if that disrespect is towards his partner or prized possessions.

Jonnie:

Self control. Self control. Self control. He may have outbursts if he has to face someone who’s wronged him in the past or recently. Or if he’s triggered by something. But for the most part, very calm !

✿ - Sex headcanon

Bane:

Likes to feel big and strong with his partner, loves to pick them up during. Doesn’t matter how or in what position. Praise him and he will work extra hard to make you cum multiple times. Force orgasm kink, likes his partner loud, stuck kink (either person). So much foreplay you’d think he enjoys the foreplay more than the actual sex. Medium sex drive imo

Zsasz:

The gloves stay on during sex. Knife kink, hostage kink, blood kink, bondage, roleplay, clothed, threatening, hair pulling. Likes to hear how well he’s doing so like. Tell him it feel good. Also public sex. So much. HIGH sex drive if you tease him enough

Lonnie:

Love and threesomes. Very vanilla. a switch but he leans toward bottoming. LOVES being pegged, especially while he’s on his stomach. The heat and weight on his back makes him feel safe and comfortable. Low/medium sex drive

Jason:

Top. Like, power top when it’s casual. If it’s making love or for comfort he will bottom and probably cry a lil. His neck is extra sensitive. Give him a little bite, lick, or suck and he’s immediately ready. Also loves his ear being bitten. Dry humping. Tell him you love him during and he may go from power top to like. Gentle dom. Very weak for emotional reassurance. HIGH sex drive

Jonnie:

He and scarecrow have different kinks. Scarecrow is much more exploring, Jonathan prefers to keep it safe for the most part. Scarecrow’s kinks include costume sex, roleplay, somniphilia, breeding, praise, begging, light bondage. Jonathan’s are dry humping, praise, nipple play, begging, orgasm denial (for himself). Hypersexual due to trauma

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Bane:

Immaculate. He hires a cleaning service every once in a while. He likes a clear space because he doesn’t want to feel cluttered

Zsasz:

Also immaculate. Practically sterile. You’d think it’s staged. No he lives there

Lonnie:

He keeps forgetting his drinks everywhere and then getting more. He has taco bell wrappers in his bedroom. He never cleans out his car. He is a mess. Please help him.

Jason:

Like Lonnie, but less. It’s presentable but you can tell cleaning isn’t his #1 priority

Jonnie:

Jonathan cleans, Scarecrow makes a mess. This is how they function lmfao

♡ - romantic headcanon

Bane:

BIG romantic. Softy to his partner(s). Wants to buy them nice outfits and take them out on dates. Tries to keep the love young and happy.

Zsasz:

Not naturally romantic. For him, the romance is in the hands. Leading you places, kissing your hand, interlocking fingers, kissing fingertips. Wow that’s cute I’m gay

Lonnie:

Young love. He’s a bit misguided at times. Probably sensitive. BUT also a very soft lover, wants you to rest your head on his chest while you both lie on the couch. Tries really hard to make you laugh, it’s his favourite thing

Jason:

Handholding while driving, not needing to talk but he’ll say something goofy and stupid to make you smile and call him dumb. The kind of guy that texts you asking where you are and telling you how much he loves and misses you while drunk, while you’re in the same room as him clearly visible lmfao

Jonnie:

Old love, wants a life partner if he falls in love. He’s all in when he gets there, he doesn’t want to go life without and he almost never has romantic feelings. When he does he wants it to stay

♥ - family headcanon

Bane:

Doesn’t care, his family isn’t apart of his life so it’s not worth thinking about

Zsasz:

Hates his parents, but doesn’t kill them. He doesn’t think they’re worth it if he’s not getting paid

Lonnie:

Loves his mom even if she was cruel to him, but he ignores the letters she sends

Jason:

Love-hate with Batman. Will go to family dinners on holidays, but may make comments that he knows would make everyone argue while smiling at Bruce. It was on purpose

Jonnie:

Reconnects with his mom. Not completely, but he does feel bad for the incident and sees how he wasn’t showing self control at all. Sends her money and helps his half sister go into a good school. He talks to her more regularly than his mother, just checking in to see she has everything she needs

☮ - friendship headcanon

Bane:

Honestly, such a good friend. He will genuinely support you. He will join a social media just to give whatever project you’re working on a social boost. I mean, he’s BANE. He WILL help make your project amazing

Zsasz:

He’s distant but hilarious. You never fully know what’s going on with him, but that’s alright. You don’t think you want to just in case he goes on trial again

Lonnie:

“Have you heard of Karl Marx, the manifesto?”

Jason:

Dramatic friend, but he will side hug you and pat your back. Asks who pissed in your cereal that morning if you give him attitude

Jonnie:

Free therapy ! JK Halloween buds most like. He reaches out on Halloween and asks if you’d like to cause a ruckus with him

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

Bane:

Weightlifting, tactician study (bombs, weapons)

Zsasz:

Gun range, knife throwing. I think he’d like doing an ax throwing competition.

Lonnie:

Tries to make other people see his ACAB point of view. He’s very successful c: Joins protests and leads riots where necessary. He is white so I see him taking the front in initiative. Rock climbing

Jason:

Gun maintenance, motorcycle rides through the outskirts of Gotham, cardio and gymnastics training

Jonnie:

Designing new scarecrow outfits, sewing, baking, reading in the morning outside

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

Bane:

Spicy foods. I feel like he’d have a soft spot for elephants. Fave colour is green imo. Wants to pull a tree out of the ground in front of people all the time to freak them out, but respects the planet too much. Doesn’t like cold food all that much

Zsasz:

He unironically loves parody songs and ones that are like.............. silly covers. Fave colour is anything funky. He prefers take out.

Lonnie:

His fave colour is red, he likes more mild, savory foods, neon signs and the city at night when it’s quiet

Jason:

Bar hopping, lying in the grass after because he’s too drunk to keep walking. Staring at the stars. Oversharing. Fave colour is red.

Jonnie:

Sweets, carnivals, small plush dolls, nail polish. Fave colour is orange. Loves abandoned buildings

▼ - childhood headcanon

Bane:

Used to read the dictionary to be well-spoken. Sometimes he uses that to annoy people

Zsasz:

Had the tendency to light stuff on fire. Forced himself to learn to be okay looking into people’s eyes to avoid punishment

Lonnie:

Grew up poor and had bad shoes and a backpack full of holes. He’s very thankful for all that he has now

Jason:

Lil pickpocket even as a Robin

Jonnie:

Had comfort items and if he felt they may be taken away by his grandmother he would his them in the walls

∇ -. old age/aging headcanon

Bane:

Hates it because he knows he’s on the decline in strength. He also knows his body can’t handle venom anymore

Zsasz:

Graceful about it. Still killing for money let’s be real. Probably helps Anarky take out political figures to make him feel better

Lonnie:

Frustrated because there is much more to be done in the world to help others and he’s not as physically capable to fight

Jason:

Loves being a silver fox, he feels kinda sexy

Jonnie:

Afraid of the time now missing from his life, but accepting that this is life

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

Bane:

He likes to make traditional Mexican food. Specifically searching for recipes that are authentic

Zsasz:

He doesn’t usually cook, but when he does it’s cooked in wine and super healthy surprisingly

Lonnie:

Frozen foods lmfao

Jason:

Burger. Sanwhich. Ingredients............. beetroot

Jonnie:

THE cook of the polycule tbh. His cooking is amazing and he almost always gets it perfect. What a gift to us all

☼ - appearance headcanon

Bane:

Mostly cares about his hair, has a lot of product to keep it looking nice c: He’s very fuzzy, but if he has the time he will have his bodyhair waxed

Zsasz:

Dresses up because the clothes make the man and he wants to look classy af. Always wearing gloves.

Lonnie:

Hoodie man........... hides in baggy clothes, it’s just more comfortable that way.

Jason:

Military aesthetic with leather jackets and boots is his regular, but sometimes if he has no time it’s just a tank top and black jeans

Jonnie:

Only really cares about shaving and dressing nice. Scarecrow very specifically prefers having red hair so he will dye it as needed

ൠ - random headcanon

Bane:

Insanely good at puzzle games, do not hope to beat him at scrabble. Challenge at own risk

Zsasz:

Autistic, wears gloves because he doesn’t like skin contact unless it’s on his terms. Especially likes those half gloves that don’t cover your wrist

Lonnie:

Autistic transman ! Very aware of the flawed social structure due to experiences dealing with this

Jason:

He got a booty that won’t quit due to all of his cardio

Jonnie:

Takes painkillers sometimes for switch headaches, both Scarecrow and Jonathan get mad at eachother for it when it’s especially rough

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lets-razzle-dazzle-rose · 4 years ago

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Best Sewing Machine For Beginners

Figuring out how to sew is a ton like figuring out how to drive. You needn't bother with an extravagant games vehicle to get familiar with the abilities. Truth be told, learning on a more established, solid vehicle is now and again better. However, then again, you do require a vehicle on which the starter, engine, controlling, and slows down work effectively and dependably. There's nothing more baffling than attempting to become familiar with another aptitude when the machinery doesn't function admirably.

youtube

So where does that leave the learner sewing fan?

You need a machine that will do a fantastic straight join and crisscross fasten. Those two fastens will do nearly all that you will require. It likewise needs to have a converse. Much the same as a vehicle, you in some cases need to drive forward and at times in reverse.

I purchased a vehicle once without test driving it first. Serious mix-up. Presently I demand test driving the real vehicle I need to buy, not simply one more of a similar make and model however the real one I will be bringing home. Something very similar goes for sewing machines. Test drive before you buy.

The best an incentive for a novice sewing machine is a pre-owned machine. There are ordinarily in life where we need something new, however this isn't one of them. A solid sewing machine vendor that takes exchange ins will ordinarily have a variety of more established machines that have all been adjusted and are all set. These machines have long stretches of utilization left in them and are an incredible speculation.

You don't have the foggiest idea yet in the case of sewing is something you will appreciate or whether it's only a passing trend. Putting $100 into a decent, utilized sewing machine is a lot savvier than buying another $149 mediocre machine.

At the point when you stroll into the sewing machine store, peruse the pre-owned machines and get a staff individual to help you if you can. Let him know/her what you are searching for and what your financial plan is. Try not to let him/her sell you something out of your value run.

Machines that are known to be "acceptable" are ones with brand names like Singer, Elna, Janome, Husqvarna Viking, White, Brother, and Pfaff. I've had individual involvement in White, Singer, Brother, and Elna. They will all vibe somewhat different, much the same as vehicles.

Try not to try and consider the Walmart machine, the Kenmore (some are OK however you are taking your risks), or some other new, modest machine. A decent, hitting new sewing machine will cost $500-$1000 nowadays. If it's new and under $500, I wouldn't take a second look except if it's one of the brands I recorded previously.

You needn't bother with a modernized machine or an embroidery machine yet you do need an electric one. The antique lever machines for the most part work incredible yet you need to focus on figuring out how to sew, not on working the lever. Simply ensure it has an ordinary family unit plug in.

Try not to let claims like "1 Step Buttonholer" fool you. I've had a 1 stage button gap producer on two or three machines and, I really want to make buttonholes "physically". These programmed buttonholers are not as extraordinary as they sound. If they stall out or jumble up, what an awful work it is attempting to tear out those lines! Everything you truly require to make an extraordinary catch gap is a straight join, a crisscross line, forward and invert, and a line length and width alteration.

At the point when test driving the machine, take some texture with you. If you realize you will making pants, take a 6" x 6" or so piece of denim (even cut a piece from an old pair of pants). The sewing machine store will have little bits of light cotton texture for you to test on. Those are fine however if you have a specific kind of task as a main priority, ensure you take some representitive texture.

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foursideharmony · 5 years ago

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That Thing Where We Post About Our Own Sides

I realize that the fandom is currently hanging around the intersection of We’re Not Talking About That Anymore Street and NEW CONTENT NEW CONTENT NEW CONTENT Boulevard, but I’ve been sitting on this for MONTHS and it’s about time I got it out there. Here, then, are my own Sides--names, functions, descriptions, and relationships with each other.

Sophia is my Intellect—a combination of reason, curiosity, objectivity, pragmatism, and a dash of pedantry. She is the nominal leader of my Sides, if only because she is the only one with any decent organizational skills whatsoever. She wants to learn everything and is deeply frustrated by all the things she doesn’t know, as well as any absence of sense she perceives in the actions of others. She takes on the responsibility of reining in the others’ wilder, more “unrealistic” impulses, but at her core she just wants to get along with them better. She is half the reason I have so many bookshelves, and is definitely behind my preference for linguistic precision. Her key element is Earth, the element of the tangible and material. Motto: “Catalog the world.” Fashion sense: Business casual.

Solena is my Introversion/Independence—the “go it alone” facet. She is proud, stubborn (they’re all stubborn, but she tops the list), quiet, and sometimes a little rude in a standoffish way. It’s not that she doesn’t like people, but she doesn’t understand them very well. Her key element is Wood—like a lone tree atop a hill, she stands on her own, bothers no one, and asks nothing but to be unbothered in turn. Motto: “Ignore the world.” Fashion sense: Casual

Wanda is my Wonder—my inner child, the part of me that is absolutely gobsmacked by how amazing the world is. She is an unabashed sensualist, bordering on a hedonist; she loves food, music, movies, nature, culture, art, science, and fantasy. (She is the other half of the reason I have so many bookshelves.) She is also largely responsible for my spirituality—if the things we can see and prove are this astounding, imagine what the things we can’t see and prove are like! Her key element is Water, the element of emotion, change, and variety. Motto: “Experience the world.” Fashion sense: Whimsical/Fantasy (she likes “witch” clothes)

Madge is my Creativity, which makes her a multifaceted facet—she writes, sews, does all kinds of crafts, sings, and tells jokes. She usually sports at least one or two Band-aids on her fingers, from pin jabs, hot glue burns, and paper cuts. She is very much a perfectionist who often consults the other Sides to make sure she hasn’t overlooked anything. Her key element is Air, the element of ideas and freedom. Motto: “Reinvent the world.” Fashion sense: Cosplay and/or period costume

Justine is my Justice—my moral center, which is based on fairness and equity. Nothing enrages her more than bullies, cheats, and oppressors. She was pretty quiet, humming along in the background, for most of my life, but suddenly got angry and LOUD…oh, around November 2016. She is a crusader…a paladin, in D&D terms, though she’s more of a chaotic good “Holy Liberator” than a standard lawful good paladin. She means well, but she tends toward knee-jerk reactions and has trouble with the idea of compromise. Her key element is Fire, the element of will power and zeal. Motto: “Save the world.” Fashion sense: Superhero + protest buttons

Melanie is my Pessimism—a knotty ball of anxiety, depression, and cynicism. Her main talent is seeing the worst in every person, situation, or thing she encounters. She claims to be keeping my expectations low so that if there are any surprises, at least they’ll be pleasant ones, but she’s not happy and she knows it. None of the others like her much, even though they need her to balance out the team. She doesn’t like herself much either, but she’d rather be who she is than disappear, and due to her worldview, those are the only two options she can think of. Her key element is Ice, the element of stasis and gloom. Motto: “Avoid the world.” Fashion sense: Pajamas

And finally, the true villain of the piece:

Sadie is my Cruelty/Vengeance, the part of me that wants to take all my hurts and turn them back on those who hurt me, those who stood by and let it happen, and everyone else in the vicinity just in case they were thinking about fucking with me. She often tries to convince me that she’s Justine having a bad day…and she honestly might be; they’ve never been seen together. But that doesn’t mean Sadie is just another way of being righteous—she’s my ideals turned inside-out and toxic, and I shut her down as much as possible. She leaks through in little acts of pettiness and spite. Her key element is Metal—hard and sharp, sometimes appearing to shine brightly but only because there’s a light source nearby (i.e. possessing no light of its own). Motto: “Burn the world.” Fashion sense: Supervillain

Relationships:

Sophia/Solena: Get along great, but low energy. Perfect for working and studying with no distractions. Sophia reminds Solena that I can’t spend all my time alone.

Sophia/Wanda: Share a love of new experiences/information as well as science. There are plenty of activities that allow them to enjoy one another’s company. On the downside, Sophia finds Wanda a little too flighty sometimes, and Wanda finds Sophia to be a bit of a buzzkill when it comes to magic and fantasy.

Sophia/Madge: Complicated. Sophia provides Madge with a lot of inspiration and checks her work for accuracy and “correctness,” but she also holds her back from really cutting loose with wild ideas.

Sophia/Justine: Sophia does research so that Justine won’t be fooled by spurious claims that play to her biases. She also helps Justine strategize her actions. Not exactly a friendship, but a good working relationship.

Sophia/Melanie: Tense. Sophia considers Melanie’s negativity to be intensely unhealthy, but she looks to Melanie to spot problems that she can solve. Melanie, conversely, appreciates Sophia’s attempts to use rationality to ground her, but is convinced that she doesn’t properly understand where the negativity comes from.

Sophia/Sadie: These two don’t directly interact much. Sophia is too amoral to be either tempted or horrified by the prospect of revenge, so Sadie has no way to hook her.

Solena/Wanda: No major clashes, although Solena sometimes finds Wanda’s energy to be overwhelming. They both appreciate things like a walk in the woods.

Solena/Madge: Plenty of conflict here, but it’s not rancorous. Madge is the most extroverted of the crew, which naturally clashes with Solena’s definitive introversion.

Solena/Justine: Fundamental incompatibility—Justine wants to HELP ALL THE PEOPLE, while Solena's not interested in people at all and would rather stay home than march or phone bank.

Solena/Melanie: Pretty harmonious, but not always stable. Solena's preference for solitude gives Melanie space to sort through her many, many issues...but that space can easily turn into an echo chamber where the issues reinforce each other instead.

Solena/Sadie: They can agree on one thing: People suck. But even Solena finds Sadie's response to social disappointment to be monstrous. Why go out of my way to hurt people when I can just withdraw? Sadie thinks merely withdrawing is recklessly inadequate to protect me from further heartbreak.

Wanda/Madge: These two form a intoxicating feedback loop of inspiration and creation, occasionally requiring one of the others (usually Sophia, but sometimes Melanie) to step in and stop them before they drain too much of my function. A very high-energy pair.

Wanda/Justine: They don't have much to do with each other most of the time, but certain things leave them both clutching each other, breathless with awe...things like people coming together to multiply their power for good.

Wanda/Melanie: Wanda thinks Melanie is an absolute, 100% spoilsport. Melanie thinks Wanda is a naive idiot. Not much love lost here.

Wanda/Sadie: Wanda is terrified of Sadie, whose mere existence brings into question Wanda's foundational belief that the world is basically good and magical. For her part, Sadie is even more contemptuous of Wanda than Melanie is.

Madge/Justine: Almost the opposite of Sophia/Justine—these two get along very well, but Madge's fantasies tend to distract Justine from buckling down and doing the necessary work of her various missions. All the same, Madge is the one who gives Justine an end goal to aspire to.

Madge/Melanie: Another fundamental clash, but there are exceptions—Madge's perfectionism means that she sometimes appreciates a harsh critic to point out weaknesses in her work. Sometimes. Meanwhile, Melanie is holding out hope that Madge will invent some miraculous solution to my mental issues. They want to like each other better.

Madge/Sadie: Madge is actually the one best able to rein Sadie in, by feeding her outlandish revenge scenarios involving things like time travel or voodoo magic, thus distracting her from plotting more realistic forms of revenge that would definitely end badly for me.

Justine/Melanie: Justine is trying to improve the real, actual world. Melanie's constant pronouncements of doom are Not Helping.

Justine/Sadie: As previously mentioned, these two might actually be “flip Sides” of each other. They certainly never directly interact. Their ideas about how to handle wrongdoing are completely incompatible and if they did somehow meet...violence would almost certainly ensue.

Melanie/Sadie: Sadie is actively trying to recruit Melanie to her cause, and even use her as an unwitting agent to get the other Sides either on-board or shut them up. Melanie knows this, and she's terrified about it. What if Sadie succeeds? What if she's right? Whatifwhatifwhatif...

#sanders sides #not exactly fanfiction #introspection #self-indulgent #come inside the Me Museum #take a look around #no refunds

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raendown · 6 years ago

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Chapter: 5/9 Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3534 Rated: M Summary: Walking patrol around a university for mages probably sounded like a wild time but Tobirama has never found it all that exciting. He’s not even technically supposed to be here. When responding to a tripped alarm becomes a desperate attempt to stay alive, however, excitement is the last thing on his mind. All he’s ever wanted is a quiet life alone with his books until he finds himself bound to Uchiha Madara in the most impossible way and finally learns to think about more than just himself - in a way.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 5

“Can you brush my hair for me?”

Tobirama paused in buttoning up his shirt to give the man on his bed a flat look. “What?”

“I said can you brush my hair for me? I want to look at least halfway presentable and it always looks better when you do it. If I pretend to be polite and say please will you do it?”

“One of these days I’m going to invent a spell that will brush your hair for you. Levitation or something. No, wait, I hate levitation spells. They’re so finicky.” Snatching the brush being wiggling enticingly under his nose, he asked, “Why do you even care what you look like? They’re just dumb adolescents.”

With a satisfied smile Madara turned away from him and settled in to a cross-legged position.

“It doesn’t hurt to take a little extra care with one’s appearance,” he said. “You should try it sometime.”

“Are you calling me a mess?” Tobirama demanded. Just for that he made sure to catch a knot in the thick chuck of locks within his grasp and pull hard. Madara gurgled out a protest.

“Careful with that! I was not calling you a mess!”

Scowling, Tobirama let it slide. He wondered if Madara had noticed the same thing he did when they woke up that morning. The longer they were able to stay apart the less he seemed to be able to sense what the other was thinking and that bothered him more than it should. If anything he should have been celebrating getting a little more privacy back but somehow he just felt oddly alone. It was, embarrassingly, a relief every time they had to touch again and he could once more feel Madara just on the other side of that thin wall between their thoughts.

Pulling the brush a little more carefully – he didn’t really enjoy the echoes of pain their bond fed through to him, after all – Tobirama sat quietly and listened to Madara rambling on about his lesson plans for the day. He didn’t have a lot of opinions to give other than admitting that a lot of it sounded quite boring to him. But then anything that involved sitting still and being lectured on a subject he had already studied would always sound boring to him.

When Madara finally announced that he was satisfied with his own appearance Tobirama nodded and stood up.

“Finally. Now turn around so I can change out of my sleep pants.”

“At least I down have to hold your hand and close my eyes anymore.” Madara turned away as asked and pulled the notes Hashirama had sent over in to his lap.

Tobirama scoffed. Now that was a bit of separation he actually didn’t mind. His partner was right that those first couple of days learning how to function when they had to stay attached were mortifying. Tossing on a pair of pants to match the button down shirt he’d already changed in to, he paused and looked down at himself with a frown.

“I look fine, right?” he asked. Madara was smirking when he turned around.

“Who’s worrying about their appearances now?”

“You got in to my head!” Tobirama reached over to tug on a lock of that perfectly brushed hair. “I can’t help it! We’re rubbing off on each other more and more with every day. Next thing you know we’ll show up somewhere in matching outfits talking in unison. Actually, can we do that? I want to freak out Hashirama.”

Madara rolled his eyes and didn’t answer, though when Tobirama dropped a hand on his shoulder he could feel that the man was at least a little intrigued by the idea.

Since it was well past breakfast by the time they left home there weren’t actually many people around for the first few minutes of their walk. The residential areas were barren, anyone not currently sitting in their first period class probably still sleeping or just getting up, so the two of them held hands with the assurance that there was no one there to see and start rumors from it. It wasn’t until they passed the residential hallways and turned in to the wing where the classrooms began that they let go, instead walking so closely their arms brushed on nearly every step. Still a bit suspicious looking but not enough to confirm any of the ridiculous rumors that neither of them had been seen in days because they were on their honeymoon.

As if that would ever happen.

The twenty minutes it took to get to the right classroom were mostly spent in silence, both of them trying their hardest not to make eye contact with anyone wearing that weird hunger in their face people get when they’re trying to confirm something they think they already know. Madara did nod to some of the students that called out to him. Tobirama didn’t much bother looking around; the only people who ever waved to him were Hashirama, Mito, or his cousin Touka who had left the university after one year of classes, declaring them much too boring. He would have been bothered except that he much preferred it that way. Socializing had never been his strong suit.

Despite knowing intellectually that Madara’s students had missed him, they were both startled to open the door and find several dozen faces staring back at them with brilliant smiles and neatly folded hands, every one of them with their textbooks out and placed at the top left corner of their desks. It was nothing short of surreal.

“Students or thralls?” Tobirama muttered out the corner of his mouth, shrinking away from all the creepy eyes focused on them. Madara grunted and turned to scowl at him.

“They are not thralls,” he hissed quietly. “A bit odd, though, they’re not usually this well behaved.”

One of the nearby students overheard them, apparently.

“We thought we’d surprise you, Uchiha-sensei! Everyone knows how much you like it when things are neat and tidy.” The young man smiled proudly, teeth stretching from ear to ear, and Tobirama tried his best not to think about how cute he looked with all that curly hair and those cheekbones that so closely resembled the man at his side. “I like your new shirt, too!”

“Flattery will get you nothing, Kagami,” Madara told the kid with a note of suspicious in his voice.

“Aw come on, we were just trying to do something nice for you!”

“Do your homework on time for once,” Madara snorted. “That would be nice.”

Kagami, as was apparently his name, wilted and turned away to sulk in the other direction. While his appearance was undoubtedly similar to Madara’s his personality seemed to be uncomfortably reminiscent of Hashirama instead. Tobirama really wasn’t sure what he thought of that. It was a relief to follow his partner towards the front of the room and slip behind the ancient desk covered in perfectly neat little stacks of paper and pens all sorted by color.

If there was one invention he would always be grateful to the non-magical community for it was pens. Sometimes Tobirama still came across an old ink pot in one of his closets and he always shoved it right back in to the mess with a shudder of memory. Normal folk were almost lucky not to live half as long as anyone with magic, saving them the trouble of remembering such dark times as the days when homework was done with quill and scrolls. Keeping track of it all had been a nightmare no matter how many extra pockets he sewed in to his clothing.

Settling himself in to the very center of the staging area at the front of the room, Madara swept his eyes over the class before him with an expression that Tobirama had come to realize meant he was looking for something specific.

“There’s a few faces missing,” he noted eventually.

“Uh, I think the Transformative Spells class last period had an accident,” Kagami piped up from his seat. “So anyone who was there is probably in the infirmary right now.”

“Ah.” Madara frowned, worry flashing through him so strongly that Tobirama felt it even from several feet away, although he let nothing of it show on his face. Without saying anything more on the subject he launched right in to a recap of what they should have been learning over the week while he’d been gone.

While he spoke he moved back and forth across the empty space at the front, stopping at the desk every couple of minutes to reach for a random object or tidy something that Tobirama had fiddled with, anything to use as an excuse for their arms to brush together and reestablish their connection. When he wasn’t getting smacked on the shoulder for messing with stuff Tobirama explored whatever items had been left out in easy reach. He passed over the homework assignments that someone else seemed to have graded – Madara just didn’t seem like a happy face sticker kind of guy – and instead pulled a binder towards himself that had no label at all. In his experience the things that went unlabeled usually had the most interesting things inside.

Generally they were also forbidden or taboo but that only made them more interesting.

First making certain that Madara was focused on his lecture, Tobirama flipped the binder open. His first reaction upon finding nothing inside but lesson plans was of irritated disappointment. Upon taking a closer look, however, he realized that he had accidentally stumbled on to something beautiful after all: Madara’s handwriting.

There hadn’t really been any need for his partner to write anything down over the past few days and suddenly Tobirama mourned that fact. He’d never seen more elegant script in his life. Each letter was a masterpiece, perfectly crafted with a patience he would never have himself. His own writing was usually cramped and rushed as he tried to get as many words on to the page as he could and as quickly as humanly possible. Not once in his life had he taken the time to make anything half as pretty as the lettering in front of him now. Madara’s writing was so nice just to look at that it took a couple of minutes for Tobirama to actually read what was written on the pages.

When he’d seen the title ‘Lesson Plan’ and a date from nearly a week ago he had assumed it would be nothing but a general outline of the material they were expected to cover. He was surprised to see the level of detail this plan included, complete with notes in the margins about which subjects his students were doing well on and could advance quicker as opposed to which they seemed to be struggling with and needed to have covered in more detail.

In all the years he’d spent here at the university – and despite still enjoying his earlier centuries it had already been a lot of years – he’d never known any of the teachers put this much effort in to planning their classes. Although to be fair he had no evidence that anyone other than Madara made their plans so detailed but that only worked as a point in the man’s favor. Tobirama had always assumed that lesson plans were no more than a rough outline, lazy and thoughtless, copy and pasted from all the years before. Knowing they were more than that gave him a little more respect for the position and it only got better as he kept reading down the page.

Underneath all of the technical details was a small section where Madara had penned in a few notes about specific students, who seemed to be having trouble with what and how to help them work through those issues, sometimes a personal reminder that this student or that one had reacted a certain way to his teachings and even suggestions to himself about how to tweak his lecture for the future. It was thoughtful.

Tobirama closed the binder and pushed it away from himself, uncomfortable suddenly and unable to pinpoint why. It was interesting having everything he thought he knew about someone slowly flipped upside down, there was no denying that, but it was also jarring and brought up a lot of introspective questions he wasn’t at all prepared to deal with.

No one liked to think they were so self-involved that they could judge someone else so wrongly.

Madara trundled over to brush against his arm a few moments later and Tobirama tensed, eyes darting up to make sure he’d replaced the binder of lesson plans exactly where it had been before. With the obsessive organization system it would be all too obvious he had touched something if it were even an inch out of place. Luckily for him Madara wasn’t even looking at the desk. He stopped at Tobirama’s side to put a hand on his shoulder and look down at him with an expectant expression.

“I wasn’t listening,” he admitted quietly. Oddly, Madara didn’t even look annoyed. He turned back to the class without removing his hand.

“Take Tobirama here as an example. His natural element is water, the complete opposite of mine, but I have seen him both invoke fire and use fire runes. Can anyone tell me why that’s possible for him?”

“Because I’m just that good.” Tobirama smirked when a handful of students tittered.

“No,” a quiet voice piped up from the back. “It is because fire runes channel raw magic from the closest ley line and do not rely on a caster’s abilities while invocation begs power from the spirits themselves with no magic passing through the one invoking them at all.”

Madara squinted around the room until he found the one who had spoken and then nodded once in satisfaction. “Very good Shino, that’s exactly correct.”

“Good to know they have their basics down,” Tobirama muttered under his breath. “They’re only, what, fifth year students?” He grunted when the hand still resting on his shoulder clamped down extra hard in retaliation.

The lesson went on to a discussion of when it was best to use fire runes over any other options, always easier than invocations though they were also less powerful, and Tobirama let his attention wander off again. He considered going through the desk drawers when he ran out of things to inspect on the top of it but one look from Madara had his hands curling together in his lap. As much as he did enjoy riling the man up he wasn’t looking to become a visual aid by having his hair set on fire. Madara wore sparks much better than he did.

Boredom had set in again long before one of the students casually asked whether fire or water was stronger since the two elements were considered natural opposites. He was in the process of opening his mouth to gleefully suggest they make a demonstration of it when a bell began to chime to signify the end of the period, Madara’s eyes rolling back with visible relief.

His partner called out homework assignments over the sounds of everyone packing up their things and warned them that he probably still wasn’t back on a permanent basis so they should expect their substitute again. While he was busy shouting Kagami made a point of stopping by the front.

“It was nice to meet you,” he said, leaning over the desk to smile at Tobirama.

“Probably. I’m an absolute delight.”

The boy laughed at his joke, peeked over at Madara, then covered his mouth to laugh a bit more. “I’m sure you are.”

He was gone a moment later, joining the flood of bodies rushing off to their next class. Luckily for Tobirama’s attention span it was Thursday and Madara only happened to teach one period of class on Thursdays. For years his only social interactions had been the rare occasion he made it down to the dining hall at proper meal times or when Hashirama deigned to stop by his rooms. Even the librarian had stopped trying to pull him in for a chat when he went down to check out more books. He understood that his partner needed to get out more often than once a week but personally his own quota for human interaction had more than been met.

Madara didn’t count as company, not with their minds so closely intertwined that they couldn’t bear to be apart.

When the room was empty and the door snapped shut behind the last student Tobirama eyed the binder of lesson plans before standing up to watch his partner clear off the various things he’d written on the whiteboard. Yet another invention to be grateful to the non-magical community for. Chalkboards were so messy. It had actually taken Mito several years to convince her husband to install them in all the classrooms; not because of any budget concerns but simply because he stubbornly clung to the aesthetic of chalkboard classrooms in the castle which housed the university. Sometimes Tobirama wondered if Hashirama had only taken the job of Headmaster so he could pretend he was still living four centuries ago.

“Learn anything new?” Madara asked after the whiteboard was clean.

“Yes, actually, although I didn’t listen to a word you were saying.” Tobirama dragged his eyes away from the binder of treasures and pulled as innocent of an expression as he could manage. It had exactly the desired effect of making the other man roll his eyes.

“How–? No, never mind. I don’t think I want to know what you think you learned if it wasn’t anything from the class.”

Tobirama cocked his head to one side and noted that it seemed Madara was getting to know him as well as he was getting to know Madara. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing but it wasn’t really something he could stop so he simply allowed the thought to pass him by.

Standing up from the desk at last, he made his way over to stand next to his partner and weave their hands together with a sigh of relief that Madara immediately echoed. All the small excuses for brushing together had been the only thing that kept him sane throughout the past hour and they had another twenty minute walk ahead of them until to make it back home. It was good to know they could separate now but it was still better when they didn’t have to.

“I used to hate you,” Tobirama grumbled, personally offended that he couldn’t say he still did.

“Yes and I still have no idea why.” Madara lifted one arm like he meant to cross them and then awkwardly aborted the motion after he realized he couldn’t with his other hand occupied. “I’m lovable! Your brother always says so!”

“Hashirama’s opinion doesn’t count, he loves everything that breathes in his general direction.”

Madara puffed his chest up to argue back and then deflated almost immediately. “Or things that don’t breathe. I caught him naming all the flagstones in the front courtyard once,” he admitted. Tobirama closed his eyes to block out the exasperated shame.

Together they puttered around cleaning up the classroom and putting away all the things Madara had used to demonstrate whatever he’d been talking about. As much as Tobirama normally couldn’t care less for having everything put away so long as he remembered where to go find it again later – laughable considering he never remembered where anything was – he found himself pointing out things that were still out of place and dragging Madara along behind him as he popped over to put something else away.

Once everything was back where it was supposed to be and all the books on Madara’s desk had been set at right angles again they were free to head on back home at last. Madara spent most of the walk making a case for why they would go back to class again the next day, whining that Fridays he only taught two classes and that it wouldn’t be too much different than just one class, especially since they were hours apart. Tobirama mostly let his wrinkled nose make his opinions on that known. It wasn’t the classes he objected to in particular, just the upset to his daily routine. Ever since this whole thing began his life had been steadily changing bit by bit, again and again, and all he wanted was to find a little equilibrium again.

Finally turning down the hallway where their rooms were located and finding Uchiha Izuna leaning against the wall with both hands in his pockets certainly was not a path towards finding his equilibrium. The mental connection between him and his partner lit up with startled happiness at almost the exact same moment Izuna looked down to see that they had once again linked hands as soon as they were out of the public eye.

“What the fuck Aniki!?”

Tobirama closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Hopefully the gods would see fit to send enough for both of them.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #fanfiction

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