#fountain pen case storage

[begouristore]

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[eggbunni]

Look what I made, a fountain pen case for my pocket pens! I’m so proud of myself! 🥹

I had been looking for a pen case for my Kaweco Sport pens. Kaweco Sports are so short that they completely swim in all of my other cases, making them difficult to grab when I need one. After looking online at the different cases available, I couldn’t justify spending $45 to $60 on a factory made case just for my little pocket pens, especially since I’m committed to a No Buy for 2024.

I asked hubby to help me get all of my sewing equipment and fabric scraps out of storage, then set to work!

I completely winged it. No tutorial. Mostly because pen pouch tutorials didn’t seem to exist anywhere I searched for them. 😅 But that made it even more fun to figure out all by myself, and the satisfaction of completing my first case is invaluable! I feel so accomplished! AND I love my new little pen pouch. :)

It’s not perfect, but I’m sure my next one will be even better!

I’m looking forward to more DIY goodies in 2024 as I cure my shopping habit. 💪

[the-mocking-robin]

"He, uhh... The bat sends his regards."

"... He what?"

Red Hood stares down the goon before him. They were beat, but not as bad as they normally could've been. Instead of sending them off to jail, the Batman seems to have decided to turn Red's lucky into a messenger.

Said lackie was tied and cuffed to a reinforced metal briefcase, lined with thin layers of lead and sealed with several locks to ensure anyone trying to open it would have a hard time.

Freeing his goon was the easy part. A digital, physical and DNA reading lock felt like a little too much for whatever Batman could possibly trust Red Hood with.

Unless it was a bomb.

Luckily, it wasn't.

Perhaps Red Hood would've preferred a bomb.

Instead what he gets are several files organized in manilla envelopes, a high end laptop and several empty terabytes of external storage, a map of Park Row with marked locations, a black metal credit card noted to have no limit...

And a note.

By now, the goon wisely leaves the room as Red slowly lifts the small, carefully placed note from the safety of the cramped briefcase.

He knows that writing. Knows the pen it was written with (it was his favorite, too, even if fountain pens were difficult to use). The message is simple but leaves Red Hood stunned and feeling dry in the mouth.

At some point he remembers to breathe.

Then puts the letter and everything back exactly where he found it, slamming the case shut and balling his fists tight against the protective metal.

It feels like a trap. It feels like a sick game. After everything, after all the blood and smoke and tears and heartbreak, why now? Why would he...?

He isn't sure what to do.

So he shuts everything down for the night. Orders his small team of goons to go home. They'll get paid as usual. He makes sure they get paid for the dirty work he puts them through.

He cleans, counts the money, sorts out what he owes, then goes home just before dawn, briefcase in hand.

The early morning is spent carefully taking apart everything, looking for bugs, trackers, searching through programs and folders for anything suspicious.

It drove him up the wall... But it was all clean.

Eventually, after resisting the urge to throw everything out the window, he pieced it all back together and drank the last of the beer in his fridge, taking out some cold soup and chugging it down like it'd cure him of some sickness.

All that was left out in the end was the note.

It's shake his core with implication alone...

"Prove me wrong.

-B"

It'd shake him. And Jason wasn't sure what to do if this meant at all what he thought it did.

He... Almost wasn't sure if he was ready to chance turning anything on...

Maybe some sleep would calm his nerves...

[mysticstarlightduck]

💙 - Describe their bedroom! Is it personalized, unchanged? Messy, neat?

Thank you so much for the Ask, @zackprincebooks!!! I'll answer for some of my OCs from a few of my WIPs for this one!

(Supernova Initiative)

Jack and Cassiopeia Tithus - Jack shares a room with his sister, Cassiopeia, in their spaceship (there isn't much space for multiple bedrooms on a non-cargo class spaceship, so they simply share one). The room itself is personalized to their tastes, with decorations such as posters from their favorite movies and bands, string lights, and a few old plushies from their childhood which they still kept. There is a bunk bed in one of the corners of the room - Jack's bed is the top bunk and Cassie's bed is the bottom bunk. He prefers the colors bright purple and orange for pillows and bedsheets, while most of Cassie's pillows are some shade of pastel, especially blue and yellow. The room is a bit messy, mostly because neither of them has the patience to constantly make it neat. The room has a bulletproof stargazing roof. There is a built-in wardrobe in the opposite corner of the room, which spins and doubles as a writing table, and there are also a few small storage boxes around the room.

Deimos Soll - Deimos' room is cold and plain. He doesn't bother much with decorations and feels overwhelmed when in a cluttered space. His room is small and built for functionality - there is a bed with perfectly aligned bedsheets (in the colors white, light grey, and a very very faint lilac), built into the wall of the room (the bed can also fully close into a small pod and has a holographic tablet built into its metallic "roof" which Deimos uses to make his to-do lists for the day, do research and watch movies). There is a small closet in one of the corners of the room, where he stores his clothes, armor, and weapons (mainly his knives, guns, and his favorite sniper rifle). He keeps his video game console in a box under his bed. The room also has an automatic perfume dispenser (his preferred scent for the room is lavender). This room had been converted into a storage space a few years prior when he left the crew, but now that he has returned to the group his room is back to the way it was.

Gabi Ophirya - Her room - in the dwarf planet she lives in for most of the story - has a strong futuristic aesthetic, with most of its decorations in shades of dark pink and purple and metallic colors. There are neon lights built into the room, which give the place a dark lighting that Gabi prefers. The room is very messy, with clothes and gadgets thrown around randomly, and the bedsheets tangled chaotically. She keeps most of her stuff in storage boxes or small containers around the room, which have wheels and can be stacked on top of each other. As a brawler, she has an extra first aid kit always at hand in the room, and always keeps her gauntlets in top shape - she has a desk for repairs beside the bed. On that same desk, there is a picture of her and her sister, Morgan. She also has a bed for her wolf somewhere between the desk and her own bed.

(Enchanted Illusions)

Augustus Grimmure - As a necromancer, his room is also his magical laboratory and study room. His room is located in the basement of an old wooden building in the center of the city of Ansburke. The room has an old wardrobe, where he keeps his clothes and a satchel ready for travel in case he needs to make a quick escape. On one side of the room is his bed, which has white linen bedsheets, a thick dark red blanket, and two pillows. On the other side of the room is an ornate wooden desk, which has multiple pieces of scribbled parchment (and a study on human anatomy) scattered on top of it, an inkwell, and a few quills as well as fountain pens and a few sketchbooks. There are wooden shelves on the wall on the desk's side of the room - on the shelves there are multiple books/scrolls, a heavy necromancy tome, jars with leeches, and bone samples from animals, mainly skulls. On the corner of one of the shelves, there is a flower pot with forget-me-nots and wolfsbane and another flower pot with a carnivorous plant. He also has a few jars with dried-out herbs and botany samples. On the other side of the room, a door leads to the other living quarters of his house, mainly a kitchen, a small bathroom, and a reading room. There is a portrait of his grandmother on his desk, close to a portable lamp.

Sam Delaways - Sam rents a room in a lodging house in the slums of Strystead, where he lives with his two younger brothers, Charlie and Tim. The room is small and rather cramped, with only two - very old - beds, there is a compact, dusty wardrobe where they keep what belongings they have and a rickety desk on the wall opposite the door. They have managed to make the room feel homey and comfortable to the best of their budget, and it looks happily lived in. There is an old music box on the desk, colorful drawings on scattered parchment around the floor of the room, and old blankets piled on top of the beds, Charlie and Tim's side of the room also has their plushies and toys, which are second hand but very loved. There is an old chair next to the desk that Sam usually places in front of the door at night for a bit more safety because he doesn't trust his neighbors or the landlords quite a lot.

Evangeline Daemitya - Evie has a large room in her family manor, with an ornate canopy bed in the middle of the room, in shades of pastel blue, gold, and pastel pink. There is a vast (stark white and gold) walk-in wardrobe on one side of the room, where her gowns, dresses, and all items of clothing are kept. Across the other side of the room, there is a balcony, which can be accessed or closed by two stained glass doors. There is a small vanity desk beside her bed, with a medium-sized mirror and a ballerina music box. Across the room, there is a door that leads to her reading and study space, a small room where she keeps her books, tomes, and scrolls, which has a spiral staircase that leads to her drawing and painting room, and a small window that overlooks the orchard. Finally, there is a painting of Evie and her father on the wall close to the bed.

(Song of Thorns)

Kane Mylestrom - Kane's room is practical but also beautiful. Located in the towers of the Order of Storm's Keep, the room is built on cobblestone in the shade of dark grey. There is a medium canopy bed in the middle of the room, with sheets and pillows in the colors of dark red and faded gold, with olive green embroidery. The wood of the bed is oak. There is a sword rack on the other side of the room. Close to it there is a stern wooden wardrobe where Kane keeps his armor and shield, alongside a few amulets. On another wardrobe in the other side of the room, he keeps his clothes and books. On one wall there is a simple balcony with ornate wooden doors that overlooks the grounds below and on the wall opposite to it there is a fireplace. There are a few tapestries on the walls, which have intricate symbols and designs, mostly in the shapes of dragons and storms.

Cyriel and Dimya Staryn - The twins have a simple room in the mercenary-owned building where they spend most of their time. The room is simple, built for practicality, but also homey and messy. There are two beds each on one side of the room, and a small fireplace between them. Each bed has a small wardrobe on the wall in front of it, with each wardrobe belonging to one of the twins. The colors of the room are simple and folkish, with a few differences between each twin's side of the room. Cyriel prefers copper and green tones and keeps her bow and arrow underneath her bed, while Dimya prefers dark blue and white tones for his side of the room and keeps a lute under his bed. The room has stone walls and Dimya's side of the room has a window with a few wilted flower pots.

[havethetouch]

FYI older art uploads in ze future

Idk how much far I go back with my uploads but like I prolly go for a bit maybe even early 2000s so lots of art uploads from way back lie ahead xd I still love most of them dearly and I think it's important to keep old art around in galleries or somewhere people can still get to it because those are where I come from, those are where my style developed from bit by bit those are where many of my OCs came from too and idk I wanna share that with people. I want you to see from where I started roughly (roughly because the really old stuff is harder for me to find I started uploading stuff to the internet when i was like.. uh 14/15, I would need to find, re-scann and also erase my deadname from a lot of stuff, bc back then I did not have a nifty signature that nobody can possible read) when I began uploading my stuff to the internet and how things just slowly but surley geared mostly towards ladies and hair and wings and details and my love for thicc lineart. Funny side note on the line art though? My very first OC artworks were made with a fountain pen from school with black ink in it and a broad tip, so my lines were naturally broad due to the nature of my pen. (which I also used for writing, in school, bc I was still in school back then and it feels like forever ago while I am writing this fuck XD) Sometime soon though I found thin liners that did not smudge with copics like my ink did so I entered the dubious zone of touch does thin lines forever, then goes back to his roots and makes it thicc. Anyway... what I'm trying to say is, I think it's nice to see an artists journey, and I love it to pieces when I can catch glimpses of peoples old art and see were they came from/started out from. So yeah imma slowly go through my stuff and bring old stuff back online. I used to have a gallery (on DA) that went all the way back almost to the beginnings but I changed accounts in 2011/12 to my new artist handle (back then in ye olden days name changes were not yet a thing on DA) and while the younger account still exists I have everything thrown into storage because fuck DA. I keep my "archive" there until they get funny ideas like deleting accounts of inactive users or whatever. But it's no longer public and like I said only goes back to 2011/12 anyway so yah. Like i said i do not know how much of the really old stuff is gonna come back online but I'd like to bring some of it back. Guess Imma go tag my art posts with the years they were made in too for filtering purposes xd But just fyi I also have a FurAffinity account were I am basically also try to do something similar and have a whole folder structure dedicated to years of creation for the very same purpose. Just in case that's more convenient for some of you but I am in no way caught up with uploads there either. Nb4 it comes up: I am currently too lazy for a personal website were I could go chronological madness. Mainly bc I know myself I would fucking take forever to just design a layout and get super anal about everything else and loose patience long before uploading anything so I am doing the responsible thing and not do that. At least not anytime soon. I have my projects planned out for 2023 already with some pockets for arttrades 'n stuff I am booked out XD

[haruka89]

I'd say we're using these symbols because they are very distinctive for the type of thing they represent.

Fountain pen and typewriter are pretty much only used to write (fountain pen for art is a bit more of an edge case if that art isn't writing based, I'd guess), while the keyboard we use for a lot of writing is used for many different things we do on a computer and other common writing implememts are also commonly used for art.

Old, more traditional phones are very clearly phones, while smartphones are tiny computers we use to call each other and non-smart cell phones or landline phones that look like those cell phones (or the other way around, no idea which had the design first) are basically rectangles that are omly recognizably phones with a lot of details to the picture. There even still exist phones that look more 'traditional', so that image is unlikely to disappear anytime soon.

I guess, at least.

The floppy disk symbol for saving is also very distinctive for saving something and was also very familiar to the average user, with the average user unlikely to see a hard drive outside of a computer amd thus unlikely to recognize them. (And external hard drives basically look like flat rectangles, so not particularly distinctive.) CDs and DVDs are a very specific type of storage medium that is more suited to permanent uses and has specific use cases (music, video, long term storage, to be used in players that aren't computers). Also, there are rewritable CDs and DVDs, but those are less used, unsuitable for long term storage and too complicated for spontaneous inszances of saving data.

Flash drives are, of course, more common for portable storage. But flash drives look the same as cheap mp3 players, or wifi sticks, or tv sticks, or, or, or. Anything small enough that is connected via usb is likely to look like a flash drive unless it needs a specific form.

And cartoon clouds are actually used to mean saving. To cloud storage. Because that also is a specific use case. Unless it's a specific service with a specific logo, cloud storage is often a cloud.

So, floppy discs are both specific enough to only mean saving data and broad enough to mean anything from portable to local to short term to long term storage and are common enough with a distincitve enough but uncomplicated form to serve as that kind of symbol.

TiL (click to go to the thread, which probably has more interesting tidbits I missed).

Bonus:

[primewholesales]

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Also Read

How to Optimize Your Stationery Inventory for Maximum Profit

Streamlining Your Stationery Procurement: Tips for Busy Retailers

[keencreatornut]

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[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS 5th Anniversary Book - Mukami Ruki [Character Interview]

QUESTION 01. What is your favorite thing right now?

A. A fountain pen. I bought it in the past, but I was unable to use it well back then and spilled ink on my hand many times. I have not been using it as much as of late, but I still treasure it.

QUESTION 02. What are your recent preferences in regards to fashion?

A. I try and aim for a slim fit. Clothes which are too oversized do not suit me after all. Kou told me I am making the right choice as well, so I plan on sticking to what feels comfortable on my body for a while. 

QUESTION 03. Do you have any subconscious quirks?

A. I’m not sure if I’d go as far as to call it a quirk, but I often twirl around my pen. Especially when I’m lost in thought or have nothing to do. 

QUESTION 04. How do you spend your off days?

A. Mostly reading or housework. When I work around the house, the holiday just flies by. I go grocery shopping every once in a while as well, but I guess that counts as a chore as well, and I only go when I really need something. 

QUESTION 05. What does your sleepwear look like?

A. I wear a regular pair of pajamas. I wear similar-looking ones all year around, so when I do wear a T-shirt every once in a blue moon, I get surprised reactions. I don’t own a large number, but I try and pick ones that fit comfortably. 

QUESTION 06. What’s one thing you always do before going to bed?

A. Stretching and reading. Also, my eyes are often tired, so I put something warm on them. I know it is something we do not need, but it feels nice. ...Speaking of which, Yuma got startled once because he entered my room while I had a heated cloth placed on my eyes. 

QUESTION 07. Which part of your own body do you like best?

A. I often get compliments on my eyes*. However, if you were to ask me...I wouldn’t be so sure. I honestly don’t pay much attention to those kind of things.

-> 目元 or ���memoto’ can also refer to someone’s expression (of the eyes) or even the skin around the eyes, but I assume the latter isn’t the case here. xD

QUESTION 08. What do you like best about your own room?

A. I don’t dislike the large window. Even if the room itself is on the narrow side, when you have a big window, it gives a feeling of freedom. In return, to adjust how much light can enter the room from outside, I combined it with dark colored curtains. 

QUESTION 09. Tell us your most vivid memory with your brothers!

A. Let’s see, I have plenty but...A recent one has to be when all of us were cleaning the manor together. Yuma found an old wooden chest in the storage room and claimed it to be a treasure. When we somehow managed to unlock it, the inside was completely empty, leaving my younger brothers gravely disappointed. Personally, I was more curious about how long it had been laying around there though...Well, I suppose there is no point in paining my head over it.

QUESTION 10. How do you feel about Karlheinz?

A. I believe he is a mighty individual. Furthermore, we owe him for picking us off the street and being so kind to raise us. I doubt it will be easy to return said favor. Which is why, if it’s that man’s wish, Iーー No, we will do anything. 

QUESTION 11. Where would you go on a date?  

A. I do not favor crowded places. I suppose something like a museum or a library would be nice. Looking at the paintings or reading a book, then talking about our impression afterwards while enjoying a meal would not be bad either. 

QUESTION 12. Which kind of gestures from a girl make your heart skip a beat?

A. Seeing her so vulnerable as she slowly nods off when tired is fun to watch. Knowing she won’t resist no matter what I do is rather intriguing as well. Seeing as she’s leaving herself defenseless in front of me, it basically implies that I can do as I please, right?

QUESTION 13. What does her* blood taste like?

--> 彼女 or ‘kanojo’ in Japanese can be transated as ‘she/her’, but it is also used to refer to someone’s girlfriend.

A. It is a little difficult to put into words but...It isn’t too rich of a taste, and as long as nobody else has sucked her blood, there’s no off-taste to it. I also enjoy how the flavor changes when she becomes excited. So much so, I want to keep her by my side at all times. 

QUESTION 14. Which body part do you like sucking her blood from?

A. I like sucking from her shoulder. Compartively speaking, it is one of the parts on the human body with little flesh, so there isn’t much bite to it, but it makes a nice sound. Since it is close to her ears, she can hear it and her reactions are rather nice as well. I don’t see a problem with it as long as she seems to enjoy it?

QUESTION 15. What does she mean to you?

A. In the past, I thought of her as nothing but a livestock. ...However, things have changed. Regardless of whether she is Eve or not, she is someone special to me who I wish to protect. Of course, my duty has nothing to do with it. Perhaps I shall not be forgiven for feeling this way but...I simply cannot give her up anymore. ...That is just how precious she is to me.

[lgriffiths]

LIAM GRIFFITHS - a task - “in the bag”

A collection of things usually on Liam’s person, some pictured above, and some not:

Fountain pen & journal - from a young age, Liam was taught how to write in cursive. Its something that he prefers to the usual ball point pen, and if he has a moment to jot down his thoughts in an ever present journal, he’ll use a fountain pen. He typically always writes in cursive, unless he’s being instructed to fill out some sort of bureaucratic form that says ‘print only’, but it’s one of the few things that he takes a quiet pride in. Some may call it old fashioned, but it’s something that he enjoys. 

His father’s watch - though his relationship with his parents was not a close one, his father’s hand-wind watch is something that he often wears provided he’s not about to work with some strong chemicals--sometimes, he’ll wind the little gear as a passive habit if he’s deep in his thoughts. 

A book - He always has a book on his person, sometimes two. He’ll usually carry around cheap paperbacks, leaving the more expensive hard backs in his home. 

Wallets - usually, at least two. He doesn’t use credit cards often, but he’ll usually have at least two on his person. His gym membership card, a punch card or two for the coffee shops he frequents. And of course, an oyster card. One with the most frequently used items, but he usually has a money clip also somewhere on his person -- mostly English currency, but also some Euros and USD just in case. 

Identification - he tends to carry multiple forms of identification; two passports of varying nationalities, drivers license, etc. He tries not carry them all at the same time, but he’s always got at least two.

Gloves - A leather pair of gloves well worn, a pair of latex folded up small somewhere as well in the case he gets called away on a job. 

Maps - If he’s got his go bag, he has a few different maps of London and the surrounding areas from different decades -- useful things for finding old paths and hideaways that he has some places of interest marked and assorted annotations should War send a summons for a disposal.

Weapons - A hand gun, if he’s out on War’s timecard. At all times, at least one knife. His hands are a weapon of their own right, for all his time spent in the boxing ring. 

Cigarettes & Lighter - for when the stress is high. 

Key Ring - A jingly mess of keys -- several different car keys, one to the four runner he deems his personal vehicle, and a couple of assorted keys to burner cars stashed around London for hauling around War’s dirty work. A key for his Battersea flat, one to his family home, keys to his lockers at the Ritz & the gym he frequents and a couple unremarkable keys for a couple of storage units or lock boxes. A small bottle opener.

Cell phone  - x2, his personal line and a burner he replaces every so often.

[emj-tolj]

Bringing a World of Adventure Hunting in to Your Home

Not everyone is not living in a position to wander the woods, desert, beach or ruins. I had that situation at one point in my life. And yes its depressing. And when you read others doing all these things its can really get to you. However there are a huge number of things yo CAN do to counteract the depression. Lets visit a good many of these things:

1) Everyone’s first Go-to is Roleplaying. Be its table-top or online. But not all Online games bring out the true desire to adventure, as they are limited to telling a specific story. As such I suggest avoiding using game maps and make you own real maps. Right down and study any runes in the game, study the magic tech in the game, write side stories of your character that can not be done in game. Create a history to the character you made. Some games are limited what you character looks like. Draw your own character and hang it by your game station.

2) If you have adventure wear, wear it about the house/apartment. Does not have to be all of it. Boots, a shirt, a vest, tunic, wristbands, cloak 

3) If you  have the money and talent turn kitchen into a tavern or saloon, line shelfs with bottles and plates and other tavern/saloon wear. Avoid cheese props. Study movie sets and get ideas from that. 

4) Likewise turn your bedroom into an Inn room. Go ristic and simple with natural colors and materials

5) Burn in a cauldron or censor wood chips, herbs and incense, 

6) Hang posters of nature about the walls in natural wood frames. If you can obtain some old wood window frames, you that as your poster frames. If possible find images of nature on line and print them out. Try to make all the images co-inside, so its looks like you are looking out into the same view. Change the posters with the seasons if possible 

7) Place realistic life-size animals about your home: Snake, turtle, mice, birds, chipmunks, insects. If you have a ficus tree or a cluster of plants, place a birds nest with eggs in it

8) Play sound effects and ambient sounds in the house. Youtibe and other sites have a plethora of ambiance and sounds from cave to camp sites, tavern sounds, market squares, pirate ships, forests 

9) Add a fountain/s in your home. Fountain pumps can be bought anywhere these days, 

10) Terrariums! Make them and add them to your home. Even of the plants are fake 

11) Aquariums! If your adventurous aestheic love is the see or any water setting like ponds, these are fantastic to have. And do not limit yourself to just fish: Crabs, snails, turtles, frogs, lizards, snakes. Even if you are not allowed to have pes, build an aquarium anywhere. The flow of the water from the filtar moving the plants can lend to the imagination  

12) Wood, tin and copper and wrought iron objects 

13) Leather bound books. Line a shelf with them, 

14) Candles and lanterns. Some people can not have things where they live for safety mode. Even if you never burn them, have a cluster of candles anyway. Just the look of lanterns and candles plays with the mind. You can also invest in battery ones but I think they are silly looking

15) Bowls of fruit: Wood bowls and real fruits and nuts about the house. 

16) Seasonal and year round garlands and wreaths about the house. Clusters of ferns. If you do not have a green thumb, go fake if need be. Ferns and spider plans are my fave. 

17) Drift wood and moss covered wood. 

18) If you have your own Adventure clothes and gear do not bury it in a closet. Get a mannequin and display it, 

19) Fur, leather, blankets, wool, sheepskin throws and pillows.

20) Banners and tapestries 

21) Invest in a couple of mortar & pestle sets, one for the kitchen and one for the bathroom is you have the room. (Confession: I collect them) 

22) Hang herbs and dry plants in the kitchen.   

23) Clay pots and assorted pottery about the house. Try to sick with OLD looking styles. Check out some sites or books on ancient styles for an idea 

24) Antlers add a wonderful feel to ambience. Even if fake. Now they are made into door handles, draw knobs and so much more. (DO NO go hung deer and elk JUST for their racks)

25) Bowls and vases of snail shells, acorns, pine cones, 

26) Rolls and displays of maps, 

17) Glass and Ceramic bottles: Display a few or better yet, use them! fill them with shampoos, liquid soaps, drinks and what ever else you use and look at daily  

18) Old style dip pens and ink vials on your desk along with scrolls of parchment and an old leather bound journal, 

19) Color glass baubles like the ones at christmas time and “witch balls” These are great if your Aesthetic is the sea or in the Witchy profession, 

20) Wood wand display. Not talking about Harry Potter here. Do a little reserach and find or make a REAL one. Display it on your desk or mantle staff. If you have a set, even better. 

21) A Statue of an ancient god, 

22) Baskets and wicker to hold things 

23) Metal goblets and drinking horns

24) If you have one or several hand your shields on the walls, 

25) Oil hurricane lamps, 

24) Hang and display Gourds about. If you know how to carve and stain gourds, all the better, 

25) Birds houses. In the house?? Sure, why not? 

26) Feathers. Sometimes just a vase of ling feathers helps. If they are feathers you find in your walks, just as better. Each one has a story  

28) Bowls of rocks. Not only does this bring the natural world in but its said that a bowl of rocks by the door and window wards off negativity. 

29) Old wood boxes. Just do not collect them but USE them. put whatever in them as storage. Afraid you will forget what’s in it??? All the better. There is your treasure at the end of your search. 

30) Corn dollies. These folk cultural dolls and designs have their roots into the ancient world. a display of them, especially during the late summer, really invokes the harvest season 

31) Ceramic and wood bake ware in the kitchen. Ads a rustic tavern feel. This could include   bread boards and bowls, wood spoons, rolling pins,

32) Replace DVD covers with parchment or wood texture covers. Sometimes a wall of game and DVD cases can kill an ambiance you are striving for. If you can not print out all these coves, hang a tapestry over your shelf unit or add wood shutter doors  

33) Cover your library of bright color books with leather, paper of plether, No access to leather? See of someone has an old leather jacket they are ditching you can cut up

34) Wood flutes, harps, ocarinas, pan pips, lyres and rustic drums add to a great tavern-ish display.

35) A tall vase of cattails gives ambiance for this that over adventures in places like rivers and lakes, 

36) If you have a collection of crystals, sea glass and gemstones, show them off in a wood box or basket, 

37) Halloween Witch bottles add to the adventure appel. (I have a buhnch and have all my teas in them, 

38) Fancy yourself an Librarian or treasure seeker? Have a display of “artifacts” like (potters, tiles, scales, bones, glass, wood), Find some broken pottery shards and make them look like Greek pottery. If you sculpt make a remnant of a state or a bone or prehistoric tooth. Create your own artifacts and put stories to them.

39) Hang a bunch of leather sachets and small bags from a hook or sit them on a shelf, 

40) Find yourself a rustic tea set, 

41) Collect vintage clay and wood tops. Tops have been around since ancient Assyria and Babylon.

42) Display a collection of carving tools or depending on your likes, a small anvil and hammer,  

43) Hand on hoots of rack by your door or wall woven wicker hats, leather caps and witch/witch hat, head wreaths,

44) Display an old stick/straw/grass broom head wreaths, 

45) Display a helm or helmet you have in a place that speaks “I am at the ready”

46) Fold a small stack of old burlap bags and place on a shelf and use them to store things like potatoes and onions, 

47) Display and basket of wood knitting needles and wool,

48) Grow plants, flowers, herbs and small trees. Even small pots of just grass adds a sense of nature and Adventure (The ancient Greeks would grow grass for their New Years Eve celebration) I have lemon trees in my windows I grew from seeds.

49) A Fish Net works great to add an aesthetic look to your space.

50) If nothing more find an artist and have him/her draw your aesthetic self as you see yourself in different poses, gear and situations. Blow thing up power size and hang them about your space

51) If you can not do any of this, create a physical scrap book of pictures and images that’s screams your aesthetic ideals. Visit it daily and add to it.

NOTE: While all these ideas are great starts, DO NOT over do it. Less is more. Rustic and simple. Avoid cheesy plastic props and things like signs screaming “I am a Proud Viking!” Investigate films, movies and history into your aesthetic loves and the world behind it. Do not create clutter. Make you space livable and function to your NEEDS. Make you space your home, not a museum. If your space is cluttered and does not bring you a feel of your Aesthetic feelings you may need to pull back on some of your props.     

[tcstu]

March’s Honorable Mentions

For this month’s contest, I have one Honorable Mention and one disqualified entry. The Honorable Mention was created by @emilyelizabethfowl​. Emily has previously won my contest four times and is a truly talented writer. You can read their previous winning pieces here:

December 2020

August 2020

January 2019

June 2019

The second piece featured was disqualified based on length, but is still an awesome story that should be read. It was created by @daalseth​ who also won this contest in February 2021.

If you like one of these pieces, I hope you will reach out to the writer and let them know that you enjoyed their work.

As a reminder, this month’s piece is created by Liv @livinthefuture3000​ . This picture doesn’t have a title, but it is captioned by, “ Yo guys…I found this creepy mailbox while I was walking around the Level 5 neighborhoods 😦 There’s a keypad on the side…can someone help me figure out what it’s for…?” This piece is part of an incredible series the artist created, so if you would like to learn more, make sure to visit Liv’s page!

Untitled

By: @emilyelizabethfowl​

The mailbox had always been there, smack-dab in the middle of the small patch of grass and some bushes generously called the Park.

Every day, the postman would flick the flag up, and every single time, it would be back down before sunset.

There were quite a number of theories circulating around.

Some thought there was an invisible house next to it. Some argued there must’ve been a ghost house, demolished decades ago.

Others spoke of a faerie ring, or a werewolf post box, or even a direct line to Santa.

Kylie was going to figure that mystery out once and for all.

She was ready for anything: she had salt, and a cross, and the silver fountain pen her grandparents had gifted her as a graduation gift.

And, just in case it turned out to be Santa, she prepared a nice, long letter. She might not believe in the guy, but surely she could fake it long enough to get a gift or two out of it?

So, yeah, Kylie was ready for everything.

Except for a crow.

A crow, perhaps even one of the regulars at the bird-feeder her mother always put out, flew down to rest on the mailbox.

It preened a little, flicked the little flag down and, within seconds, it was gone again.

Surely that couldn’t have been it?

Kylie scrambled out of the bushes she was hiding in, reaching the mailbox in a record time.

Opening the flap, she was ready for anything.

Maybe it was filled with cobwebs or bugs or stuffed to the gills with mail. Maybe there was a cursed amulet, or a treasure map, or a pendant which would give her magical powers?

In any case, she was too curious to care about the possible breach of somebody’s privacy.

Kylie opened the flap and stared inside.

Emptiness glared back.

With a sigh, she closed the mailbox. A loud noise nearly gave her a heart attack before she realized it was just the flag, jarred upright by the sudden motion.

Well. That was boring.

As she made her way back home, she missed the light-blue glow seeping through the cracks in the mailbox, static filling the air just as an airplane was passing by.

The crow returned shortly after, flicking the flag back down with a slightly more vicious peck than before. 

(Note: The entry below was disqualified due to length, but is still awesome.)

Paper Tiger

By: @daalseth​

Lamont was not an impressive man. Small, balding, wearing an ill fitting suit, thick glasses with heavy frames, and clutching a file folder in his hand, he seemed to grow smaller as he entered the Oval Office. The new president was sitting behind the desk for the first time. He on the other hand was tall and loud and to be blunt, everything the first man wasn’t. But then he was a politician.

“Mr, President, sir?” said Lamont with a quiet mousy squeak, “Excuse me, but it’s time for your high security briefing, sir.”

“What?” said the President, “Didn’t we just spend the last three months briefing me on everything from the Chinese highway system to Agricultural Department Seating charts? You mean there’s more?”

“Yes sir. You see sir, there are a couple of items that can only be known by the sitting President. We had to wait until you had taken the oath of office.”

The President had a scowl on his face, “Oh all right then. What’s your name, son?”

“Lamont, sir. Avery Lamont.”

“Well then Lamont, pull up a chair and let’s get on with this.”

Lamont pulled a chair up to the front of the President’s desk and sat down awkwardly. He was uncomfortable in the presence of the President. Brassy, loud, strong men always made him uncomfortable. To be honest, that was also true of loud, strong women as well. For that matter, quiet, meek, men and women made him uncomfortable too. Avery Lamont was just not comfortable around people.

“Ok, well to begin sir, it’s about the nuclear codes.”

“Aw everybody knows about them. They’re in the Nuclear Football that the Secret Service or one of my aids carry wherever I go. If we’re attacked, we open it and there’s our options for retaliation. I already covered this with the Joint Chiefs.”

Lamont looked even more uncomfortable, “Well sir, that’s the thing, uh, they aren’t in there.”

“What do you mean?” asked the new President in surprise.

“Well sir, the Joint Chiefs don’t know this but the football is all a ruse, a decoy. The bag actually contains a pair of running shoes, and a sweatshirt.”

The President was stunned, “Well then where are the codes?”

“W-well sir, that’s the, uh, thing sir. We, uh, d-don’t actually know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Well sir, it’s kind of a funny story,” said Lamont shifting in his chair and looking at the floor. “Do you remember a few administrations back, one of your predecessors was a bit, um, unstable?”

“Unstable? He was a complete loon. When they carried him out of here he was talking to the wallpaper.”

“Exactly sir, well we decided that with his habit of getting mad at people, and lashing out at them, that it might not be a good idea to have the nuclear codes within arms reach, so we took them out of the football.”

“Ok, that makes sense. But where did you put them?”

Lamont shifted uncomfortably, “We don’t know sir.”

“How could you not know?”

“Well we know approximately. We know about where they are sir.”

“How approximately?’

“They are either in Kansas or Nebraska.”

“Kansas or Nebraska?” said the President in astonishment. “That’s a hell of a lot of territory. Can’t you narrow it down any more than that?”.”

“Well, we do know they were put in a mailbox.”

“What do you mean in a mailbox?”

“We wanted to put them in the last place somebody looking for the nuclear codes would think to look. In that light, a rural mailbox made the most sense.”

“A mailbox?’

“Yes sir.”

“You mean, on a post, with a door in front, and little flag you put up?”

“Yes sir.”

“This is unbelievable,” said the President to himself. “The codes to launch our nuclear missiles are sitting unsecured in a mailbox somewhere in Kansas OR Nebraska?” A vein was beginning to pulse on his forehead.

“No sir they are not unsecured.“ Lamont looked up at the President. “I was adamant about there needing to be tight security on the box. There is an electronic lock on the side, with a keypad. Only someone with the code can get in.”

“Or any kid with a baseball bat, did you ever think about that?”

Lamont was crestfallen and stared at his shoes, “Oh, uh, w-well, no sir, in-in hindsight I guess that should have occurred to us.”

“And anyway how could you lose track of where this mailbox was?”

“Well sir, you see after the attacks of 9/11 things were a bit disorganized around here. People got transferred, documentation was never completed. It turned out the people who knew the location of the mailbox all ended up getting sent to Iraq and Afghanistan.”

“Well get them back,” bellowed the President.

“They are all dead, sir.”

The President looked at Lamont in astonishment. Suddenly he sat up straight.

“Wait, wait, 9/11 and president nutcase was twenty years ago. You mean to tell me that for two decades this country hasn’t had a nuclear deterrent.”

“Oh no sir. We have a deterrent. No one knows that we just can’t actually use it.”

“But anyone who found those codes could?”

“No sir. We were worried about that so just after we lost the codes we quietly pulled all of our nuclear devices back and put them in secure locations.”

“What are the bombers and missiles carrying then?”

“Concrete dummy warheads, they’re perfectly safe in case of accidental launch, sir.”

“I don’t want our nuclear deterrent to be perfectly safe,” said the President sarcastically. “I want them to go boom when I need them too.”

“Yes sir.”

“You mean to tell me if there had been a nuclear exchange all we could have done was throw rocks at the other guys?”

“Well sir,” Lamont stumbled for a bit, “that’s a bit harsh, but I suppose that’s one way of looking at it, sir. That’s why your predecessors were always so bellicose, so no other country would challenge us.”

“Well, effective immediately I want those warheads pulled out of storage and made ready for use. We’ll figure out how to activate them.”

Lamont paused for a bit, “We can’t do that sir,” he said quietly.

“Why the hell not?”

“We uh, we-we don’t actually know where they are either.”

“What?!?” The president was now approaching the colour of the carpet, and two veins were bulging on his forehead.

“You see sir, after the transfer was completed, there was a fire at our documents storage facility in Langley Virginia. It wasn’t a big fire, but it destroyed the documentation for the transfer, where all the devices went.”

“Well somebody must know where in the hell they are.”

“The person who completed all of the authorization paperwork, uh he quit. Became a monk sir.”

“I don’t care if he’s the goddamned Pope. Get out there and ask him where in the hell the warheads went.”

“I’m sorry sir, but it won’t do any good sir.”

“Why not?” The president was now nearly apoplectic.

“Vow of silence sir. He has not talked or written anything at all in fifteen years. We do go out there once a year to see if he’s changed his mind, but so far no luck, sir.”

“I don’t believe this. Can’t you just start asking the various depots? “Hey did you get a bunch of megaton nuclear devices?” You’d think somebody would have noticed them arriving.”

“Well sir, of course we didn’t tell the people in the depots,” Lamont was somewhat indignant. “We always use false packing lists and bills of lading, even the labels on the crates are false. The people at the depots are not cleared for that level of information. To tell them would risk it leaking and the devices getting stolen. We always use fictitious documents for nuclear devices. For security reasons, you understand, sir.”

“Can’t you search the depots? They shouldn’t be that hard to find.”

“We have tried, sir, but these depots are very large, some have square miles of warehouse space with multiple floors. They contain millions of crates, all of which would need to be opened. In that context the warheads aren’t really that noticeable.”

The President slumped back in his chair, he was shocked, and frustrated. Finally he asked sarcastically, “We do have a conventional military force still, don’t we?”

“Oh yes sir, fleets of ships, bombers, soldiers, tanks, we have those.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“I mean, sort of…”

[godslush]

Latest box of storage stuff contained a really expensive vanishing point fountain pen that my brother gave me in high school. I was too intimidated to use it, and it got buried.

The ladies running the stationary shop (that I am friends with) lost their minds when I brought it in to get a refill. Turns out I didn't need one; I never punctured the old one. Like the tales of hidden stylus nibs, the pen case had hidden cartridges.

Have a smol angery.

[dimitre-grymzin]

I thought I was ready for my death up until the moment I was staring down the barrel of the gun. 

It was already pushing near six in the evening, which was late for the man to be in the office, especially on a Friday. But he had a little more paperwork to tend to before heading for the club. The late evening didn’t bother Dimitre, he chose this when he decided to spend the morning housed up in his bed, soaking in the morning light, coffee, and company. 

As the evening crept further away, the custodian came in to clean the office and was startled to find the owner of the company sitting at his desk. “Mr. Grymzin!” he squeaked, already rolling his trolley back into the hall, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were here. I’ll come back later.”

“It’s alright, John,” Dimitre replied, sensing that the man was surprised that Dimitre knew his name. But Dimitre knew the names of every person who worked for him, no matter their role. The Russian raised his hand and gestured to the office, “You know, you do such a good job cleaning my office, I think it can go a night without being tidied up. Now go on home and enjoy your weekend.” 

John thanked him and left the office, leaving Dimitre alone to finish the work for his next upcoming hotel. He had the tendency to get so wrapped up in his work and let time slip away from him. The next time that Dimitre looked up from his work, his tired eyes focused on the clock that read 8:53pm. “Shit,” he said, tossing his fountain pen down and began rubbing his burning eyes. At the precise moment, he heard a thump coming from down the hall. 

And then he felt it—that ache of confirmation in the pit of his stomach. Dying at a young age was something that Dimitre always expected for his life. The only question was who was here to kill him? Part of him wanted to accept his fate but the other part of him couldn’t. His children flashed before his eyes; a promise he made to her came washing over his thoughts, and before he knew it, Dimitre was up from the desk and across the room in a matter of seconds. He pulled the canvas off the wall to reveal a safe, his fingerprint was used for entrance. With the heaviness of a gun in his hand, he slipped out of his office and began descending down one side of the hallway, uncertain of where the noise originated.

He began checking every room he passed. The conference rooms were all empty, the supply closet, storage, bathroom, even the printer cubicle was vacant. His heart sank with doubt for a moment. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe no one was there at all. He reached for his pocket already deciding who to call and then—fuck, he left his phone on the desk. Dimitre turned around and began walking swiftly back towards his office, deciding to grab the phone before checking the other end of the floor.

When he reached his office, he was greeted by a dark room; the moonlight spilled into the windows but someone had turned the lights off. Certain death ached in his stomach as he cocked the gun, raising it up and he stepped inside the room, the glass door closing behind him. He moved around the large room in a circle, letting the moonlight guide him as he tried to decipher the shadows that clung to the walls. Slowly, he examined every inch of the room, even under his desk. Nothing. He walked into his closet that housed a dozen suits. He shoved the garments apart in case someone was hiding behind them. Nothing. 

“I’m losing my fucking mind,” he growled as he headed back into the office and put the gun in the safe. He chalked it up to exhaustion while he put the ominous feeling in the back of his mind and pocketed his phone. 

With his keys in his hand, Dimitre headed across the parking garage towards his Rolls-Royce. He was only a few yards away from it when he heard a loud squeal of tires in the distance. With the echoes of the garage, he couldn’t place the direction it was coming from but it caught him off guard and left him vulnerable to the attack. A man dressed in all black and a ski mask came at him at full force—he had been hiding behind his car—and punched Dimitre square in the face. 

Dimitre fell backwards but caught himself and swung a punch at the man. His fist made contact but before he could defend himself further, everything went black. A bag had been placed over his head. The squealing tires were growing closer, men were shouting in Russian. He understood everything, of course. Shit, he was going to die. Dimitre tried not to let it bother him. He knew this would be his fate eventually. How could it not? He was a Grymzin after all. The thoughts racing through his mind were silenced when something struck him hard on the back of his head. Unconsciousness consumed him. 

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Time had eluded the man and he wasn’t even sure where he was. There was still a burlap bag over his face, but he could see light seeping into the crevices. Was it daylight? Fuck. He tried to move but he felt his wrists screaming from the tight strains of rope. He tried moving his legs, but the same resistance was met. He was tied to a chair. 

He’s awake, someone said in Russian. Get the boss.

Dimitre’s breathing was accelerating—he told himself this was because he was smothering from the burlap on his face, but truthfully he knew it was fear setting it. Approaching steps came and then he was squinting his eyes, trying to adjust to the light now that the bag had been removed. He lifted his head and found himself staring at a man. He knew this man. It was his father’s rival—Pavlo Buryakov. 

“So, you’re him,” Pavlo said in Russian, his tone drenched with surprise and annoyance. “You’re the Grymzin who killed my son?”

The cool steel of Pavlo’s gun came to rest against his forehead. Dimitre closed his eyes. The faces of his children were all that he could think about as he waited for death.

To be continued.

[tearsofthemis]

Tears of Themis : Chapter 1 “Social Snobbery” Part 1

[Masterlist] | [Next Part]

Location- Industrial Warehouse

(Early in the morning, a bustle of movement disturbed the quiet night at a raw chemical warehouse situated in Stellis City’s Industrial Zone. A group of warehouse clerks that should have been on break opened the warehouse doors as they manned robots that lugged barrel after barrel of raw materials which were loaded on carts.)

Man on Comms: “Raven, please report on the investigation progress.”

(The man called Raven moved to hide himself behind storage containers, and adjusted his night-vision goggles, turning on thermal imaging.)

Man on Comms: “Raven, do you copy? Did something happen to you?”

(Raven tapped on his earpiece three times and silenced it. The voice in the comms was effectively cut with it.)

Warehouse Clerk A: “These late night shifts are awful, what sorta business couldn’t we have left for tomorrow morning?”

Warehouse Clerk B: “Shut your trap; the sooner you stop complaining, the faster we can finish our job.”

Warehouse Clerk A: “Speaking of, where did Minister Xu go? He was…”

Warehouse Clerk B: “I told you to shut it! Are you daft?”

(The reprimanded clerk scratched their neck and went quiet. Soon after, the raw materials were loaded into the truck, and they drove away. The opening and closing of the warehouse doors, and even the workers’ small dispute, was semi-audible through Raven’s earpiece. His brows furrowed. He must have picked up something in their conversation… either that, or he was simply dissatisfied with the quality of his gear.)

Raven: “An abnormal delivery…”

(His fingers were like a blur as he typed away on his smart watch, pulling up information on the warehouse owners. Raven pressed his earpiece, and sent his last transmission of the night.)

Raven: “He Yin, Ya Ning, no anomalies detected. Mark Hai O’Sen.”

Without waiting for a confirmation on the other end, Raven turned and stalked away with the stealth of a black leopard, fading into the pitch black tar of the night…

~~~~~~

Location- Outside the Law Firm

(It’s Saturday morning, and the CBD building is quiet. Compared to the usual hub hub from workers rushing about on a business day, the silent streets were quite unsettling.)

MC: “Should I go pick up something sweet? It’s been tough working overtime to prepare for the exam, I ought to treat myself! I guess that’s decided!” 

(Just as I walked through the office doors, I nearly crashed into a deliveryman as he halted me on the way to the dessert shop.)

Delivery Man: “Excuse me, is uh… mis Law Firm in this building?”

MC: “This is Themis Law Firm, who are you looking for?”

MC: (Themis, the goddess of good council’s, name is difficult to pronounce… Even if Zhai Xing came up with the name with good implications, she seems to have failed to consider whether or not the name would even stick with others.)

Delivery Man: “Does Zuo Ran work here? I have a package under his name.”

MC: “Lawyer Zuo? He’s off today, so he won’t be in. Can I accept the parcel on his behalf? I’m also a lawyer at Themis, I can show you my work badge.”

[Game Instructions: Enter your name]

Delivery Man: “By our policy, it does have to be the intended recipient… but a lawyer is worthy of being trusted; I’ll have to ask you to forward it then.”

MC: “I-it’s heavy! I should put this down before heading to the dessert shop.”

~~~~~~

Location- Zuo Ran’s Office

MC: “Huu… what a heavy package. It must be case files again, why can’t they just send it over electronically…”

MC: “Eh? Lawyer Zuo?!”

(I-is this the Zuo Ran I’ve come to know? The chief of Themis, the youngest elite lawyer in the industry, Zuo Ran? He sat, slouched in the leather chair, as the first rays of the morning sun shone through the windows and onto his face, but it did little to erase the fatigue that had settled between his brows. At this moment, he appeared almost as if he were a traveler who had just returned from a perilous and long journey, and had finally put down his heavy bags and had a moment to breathe. But not before the weariness settled in.)

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, you....” Zuo Ran: “MC, it’s you?”

MC: “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here, so I entered without knocking…”

(Zuo Ran loosened his tie and sighed. Compared to his usual immaculately pressed suit, seeing him like this was like unlocking something that wasn’t meant to be seen by others.)

Zuo Ran: “It’s alright…”

~~~

[Investigate Zuo Ran’s tie]

MC: (Lawyer Zuo changes his tie everyday… This is the same tie that he wore yesterday, it seems like he stayed overnight at the Law Firm.)

~~~

[Investigate books]

MC: (What’s this? I’ve never seen these books in Lawyer Zuo’s office before. “Undecided Event Book”... the name is so strange. Is this Lawyer Zuo’s new case? Unless… it’s some kind of weird novel he’s been reading?

~~~

[Investigate papers]

MC: (Isn’t this in regards to the trans-national trade dispute? The client has been quite unreasonable; perhaps that’s the reason for Lawyer Zuo’s troubles. Zhai Xing has urged Lawyer Zuo to find someone to help him with his workload many times. Although I don’t know how Lawyer Zuo feels about her suggestion.)

~~~

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, you look really pale, are you sick? “

(Zuo Ran pressed his temples as his brows knit together.)

Zuo Ran: “I’m alright, nothing’s wrong.”

MC: (Are you really alright?)

(Zuo Ran’s voice sounded raspy. It seems like he is mustering up strength just to respond to my questions.)

MC: “I’ll go make you some coffee, I’ll leave your package on the ottoman.”

Zuo Ran: “Alright, I’ll have to trouble you for that much.”

~~~

Location- Break Room

MC: “Lawyer Zuo must’ve worked overtime the entire night, right? Those strange books and files on his desk… did he take up a new case? If that’s how hard elite lawyers work, I have to ramp up my efforts! I must pass the intermediate exams!”

(An enticing aroma wafted from the coffee maker. Just as I was preparing Zuo Ran’s mug, someone’s device started vibrating.)

MC: “Hm?” (The notifications were coming from a tablet beside the coffee maker. I pressed the power button, and the screen lit up to life.)

~~~

[Investigate notification]

MC: “‘Sky-high copyright lawsuit verdict: XueYu Jewelry won the case!’... The push notification is from a news outlet. XueYu Jewelry’s case was handled by Lawyer Zuo; of course he would come out on top! I’ve never heard of Lawyer Zuo losing a case, but everyone else claims he wins 99% of the cases he handles… perhaps he lost a case before he came to Themis?”

~~~

[Investigate passcode]

MC: “Unrecognized fingerprint, I can’t unlock it…”

~~

[Investigate back of tablet]

MC: “A YingYuan sticker? Isn’t this the idol that ChengCheng has been obsessing over? This must be ChengCheng’s tablet. She’s so scatterbrained, always misplacing things. I bet she’s probably at home searching for her tablet...”

~~~~~~

(Just as I was about to set the tablet down, the screen lit up with yet another notification.)

MC: “A Genetic drug for cancer treatment released, YanNing Biology Company writes a new chapter in medical advancement! A new medicine, again? There’s been a lot of funding being invested in the development of medicine. Aside from YanNing Biology, the HeYin Pharmaceuticals development isn’t trivial, either. That market’s competition must be fierce! Though, that’s just good news for patients.”

~~~~~~

Location- Zuo Ran’s Office

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, coffee’s ready.”

Zuo Ran: “I appreciate it, thanks.”

(By the time I came back, Zuo Ran had begun to organize the case files. He was focused as he poured over the information, and the fountain pen between his fingers did not rest as it took notes and circled important details. Judging by the parcel wrapping in his trash bin, I’m guessing he has already begun looking into the new case. I carefully brush aside some of the documents and place the coffee mug by his hand.) MC: “Is this an urgent case? I think you should rest for a bit.”

Zuo Ran: “No need. It’s Saturday, why are you here?”

MC: “I’m preparing for the intermediate lawyer exam. I thought if I studied at Thermis, it would be easier to reference information.”

Zuo Ran: “I see. If you need help, you can come find me, I’ll be here the whole day.”

MC: “That’s great! Thank you, Lawyer Zuo! Lawyer Zuo, you probably haven’t had anything to eat all day, have you? I’m about to go…”

(The office doorbell suddenly rang.)

Zuo Ran: “We have guests?”

MC: “I’ll go take a look.”

Zuo Ran: “If it’s anything you can’t handle, send them to my office.”

MC: “Will do.” ~~~~~~

Location- Themis Law Firm’s Reception Area

(By the front door, a man and a woman are arguing.)

Man: “Xue XinRan, the old man has already accepted his fate. Why do you need to go to such lengths? Filing a case is just a waste of money. If you really wanna go through the hassle, why not employ our MeiWeiKa PR agency? We can guarantee your ‘QingPing Restaurant Scandal’ be served without any dirt.”

Xue XinRan: “What nonsense! Lu HaiYang, you’re lying through your teeth! MeiWeiKa only looks to squeeze money from us merchants; you’ve never cared about anyone’s well-being!”

(Suddenly, the man named Lu HaiYang stepped toward Xue XinRan and grabbed her wrist.)

Lu HaiYang: “Watch what you say, Xue XinRan. Our company has prestige, and it isn’t something that can be uprooted by the words of a country bumpkin.

MC: “Sir, this is a Law Firm, I ask that you remain respectful!”

(I separated the two, and pushed XinRan behind me.)

-------

[Masterlist] | [Next Part]

-------

《CREDIT》 Translator: @humi-and-co Editor: @hallowsivy​ 《未定事件簿》Tears of Themis is a 2020 Chinese otome game by 米哈游Mihoyo. All original credits go to 米哈游Mihoyo. 

《VOICE ACTORS》 Xia Yan | Jin Xian: https://weibo.com/riceranger Zuo Ran | Zhao Lu: https://weibo.com/mzhaolu Lu HaiYang | Zhang Pei: https://weibo.com/u/1937059462 Xue XinRan | V17-Su Wan: https://weibo.com/u/2925530143

《OFFICIAL ACCOUNTS》 Official website: https://bbs.mihoyo.com/wd/ Official WeChat account:  未定事件簿  Mihoyo official website: https://wd.mihoyo.com/

[barnesandco]

Nikah: June

Story Masterlist

Nikah: noun, Arabic, meaning the contract of marriage.

Bucky marries Peter’s former tutor because her student visa’s about to expire and the government isn’t granting her a green card. Can she find a way to permanent residence by marriage, and if so, will it be at the cost of their hearts?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of guns. Angst. Captivity.

A/N: Written under the Arranged/Accidental Marriage trope for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s writing challenge. I’ll be honest, I don’t really know how to feel about this chapter. Please let me know what you think.

For the first time in nearly eighty years, Bucky wants to be a soldier. Wants to bark orders, organize his troops, pull the goddamn trigger, because this isn’t working. The troops are in disarray, another off-the-clock meeting in the living room going nowhere. The area is dark, their handwritten notes illuminated by Peter’s floating lights. Like enlarged fireflies, they hover above them, casting soft shadows across the contraband paperwork, but do nothing to soothe Bucky. It’s going to take more than that to take his mind off his missing wife. 

He’s busy counting. It has been 13 days, 11 hours, and 34 minutes since she walked out the door. She never came back. Every moment since has been only disaster, catastrophe. A complete blur. He tries to put together the jagged shards of the course of events that lays splintered in his mind, recaps the case like a private eye in a noir film, but the storyline is overwhelming. He can only remember the noise. The television static that was the police station he reported her missing in the morning after the fallout. The mind-numbing white noise of the press, of the investigators, his concerned teammates. They’re still concerned, naturally, watching him pace behind the sofa, mind clearly in another dimension. 

Peter himself is absent. Has refused to show up to meetings, says he’s taking a break. As if they don’t know that he spends his free time patrolling as much of the city as possible, looking for her. A few amongst them would again suggest that she has run away, if it wasn’t for the notes.

Whoever took her has been sending cruel, little messages, in varying unpredictable fashions. On social media, in the mail, a temporary web domain. All made impossible to track and each more infuriating than the next. No ransom demand, no explanation, just taunts.

Forensic specialists have nothing, behavioral analysts are at a total loss, and Bucky’s at the center of the circus that this investigation has become. He is at the eye of the storm, although currently, he feels like the storm itself, even while it surrounds him, raging and powerful, it threatens to drown him, but he cannot afford that. Not when someone else’s life is at stake.

“Man, that’s enough. Get some rest and we’ll get back to it tomorrow.” Tired and weary, and above all else, worried, Sam decides to call it a night. Bucky doesn’t have the heart to argue. As they file out, Sam stays behind, looking at Bucky, still standing with a manila folder in his hands. The captain comes up to him and takes it away gently. “You’re going to collapse, Barnes. No good to her like this. Sleep,” He says, pointing the folder like a scolding finger at him on his way out, and Bucky sighs. Knows he will not obey this order.

The night is temperate, a gentle blanket smelling of grass and gun-cleaner around him as he steps onto the balcony outside his room. They must have cut the lawns today. It’s a beautiful evening, and he’d appreciate it if there was room for any such thing in his heart. At present, the cavity in his chest is overflowing with fear. He hasn’t been this scared since he was a 20-something soldier in Azzano, Zola’s wicked face above him on the operating table. The intensity of this fear frightens him further. How is he this scared, for someone else? When did the cold metal Hydra poured into him to forge their sword melt into the lava bubbling ferociously with rage and hurt inside him? He has spent his whole life, scorning the cold, and now he is being burnt from the inside out, the fury in his veins sparking a fire in his belly.

Taking a deep breath, he reminds himself to calm down. Remembers that the magma can and will pour into his lungs if he lets it, will stifle his air supply until he is as helpless as his wife probably is, wherever she is. Sleep is not on the cards, so he comes back into his room and picks up the Glock under his pillow. Sits to clean it again tracing the indentations and following the lines.

“Sign here, sir,” The official’s baritone voice requests, pointing to the dotted line on their accepted marriage license. The black fountain pen is cold in his hands, and he hurries to sign. Their witnesses - another married couple that were waiting in line for their ceremony - shuffle impatiently. The document is slid over to her, and she does the same. Bucky doesn’t know whether his sigh of relief is releasing the burden of anticipation from his shoulders, or making room for the burden of a false marriage on them. The formalities are discussed in short time, prenuptial agreement non-existent, and the man congratulates them professionally behind half-moon glasses.

She nods, smiling, and they get up to thank the witnesses as their own file in, along with their few guests. Courthouse marriages are popular, Bucky notes, buttoning his jacket. They leave the building, walking a few blocks to grab a taxi, silent and cold. Night falls by the time they get home, the elevator ride feeling like weeks instead of minutes. The keys jingle as he turns the lock, and he and his bride step over the threshold of his house. Not their home, not yet.

Sam’s frantic knocking rouses him from his uncomfortable sleep, his back against the side of his bed and legs splayed out in front of him, gun still in his hands. He thanks God the safety’s on, and goes to open up.

“What?” He says shortly to the man who is breathless and alert, bursting with something to say. Sam holds up a key.

“The agent who gets sent to check your mail in Brooklyn just got back with this,” He says, giving it to Bucky. He looks over it, the silver glinting and reflecting off the metal of his arm. It’s vaguely familiar, and he thinks he should recognize it, but he does not. Not until he reads the number, and his heart drops to his knees, last night’s scarce dinner threatening to resurface.

“The storage unit,” He murmurs, tracing the number on the plastic keychain attached to the key. 3-8-4. 

“What?” It’s Sam’s turn to ask as he takes in his friend’s expression, knowing this means something.

“We rented a storage unit to put her stuff in when she moved in with me,” Bucky explains, rotating the key in his hands, as if there is a hidden clue in it. “This is the key to that unit.”

“Then we should go,” Sam determines, throwing a call to suit up over his shoulder at him, and ordering Friday to gather the others.

Two hours later sees them at the storage facility, heavy red gate imposing in front of them. They can hear the ambulance on standby outside, the buzz of media attracted by the movement of armed forces inside the city. The SWATs nod for him to open the gate, rifles on their shoulders, and Bucky sarcastically thinks this might be one hell of an anticlimax, until the gate slides up with an unholy groan to reveal his wife.

The smell of sweat and stench and human waste, along with those curse MREs slaps him across the face harshly, but he needs to get to her. This is nothing, compared to the hell of the past few weeks without her. 

Finally, here she is now- his bruised, tired, but very much alive wife. Her bloodshot eyes widen at the sight of them all, black-clad special ops and a team of Avengers, him still at the side of the entryway. They all lower their weapons, but she scrambles back, gag in her mouth biting at the corner of her lips when she gasps, frightened. Then she sees Bucky, and it’s like an ocean wave washes over her. She is clad, well-covered, yet he slides his combat jacket off, approaches slowly and drapes it around her shaking form before doing anything else.

Maintains eye contact while cutting the ropes the bind her hands and feet and pulls off the gag. For a painful moment, she stares at him, frozen in time, and then the dam breaks, and she collapses. Falls into his arms, great, gasping sobs erupting from a chest he didn’t know could hold that much sorrow as she cries against him. Her sanctuary is ripped away when the medics arrive, as they ask for her to be taken to the hospital, she needs to go, Mr. Barnes, but she clings to him. Screams hoarsely until they stop insisting and give them space. 

Bucky nods to them - telling them he’ll bring her to the ambulance - over the top of her unwashed head, the tiny jhumkas from the iftaari still in her ears, one blood-stained, digging into his shoulder as she tries to hide in him. Tries to bury herself in his body, tries to make herself disappear. Again. Sam’s calling for everyone to back up, and Bucky’s grips grows tighter. He’s going to bend down to pick her up bridal style when she passes out, dead weight in his arms. The medics rush forward again, but he waves them off, carrying her back himself.

She wakes up in the ambulance on the way back, fraught like a tense rope, but doesn’t open her eyes. His only indication of her consciousness is how she squeezes his hand feebly, and he squeezes back, thinking: it isn’t fair.

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