#like i looked up a recipe out of morbid curiosity

[sundriedsidneys]

watching that adventuring party where siobhan describes the horror that is bread sauce makes me realize that i would probably hate showing emotion and like generally experiencing joy too if the dishes of my ancestors were hot milk and onions thickened with bread crumbs

[ut-poppy-askblog]

What's in Core's everything pie? What IS core's everything pie? Is the pie crust made from crushed up bits of other pie crusts? Is every known pie filling in it? If so, wouldn't "known fillings" be a near infinite list considering Core is omnipresent? Or is it more like everything available in the pantry? Or, considering the whole dang reality is full of multiversal magic and other such shenanigans, is the everything pie A Literal Every Thing pie, like The Everything Bagel from Everything, Everywhere, All At Once?

You introduced a concept and I need details. So many foods in your world I wanna make at home!!! They look so good!!! Not the Lemonaid tho, that's just morbid curiosity.

So cubic (one of our writers) had this idea that every pie would have a rainbow/prismatic filling to it. But the thing about the 'Everything Pie' is that it'd taste exactly like your favorite thing.

And there's two ways to see this: it's either that Core knows what pie you'll be buying at the expo, and has thus meticulously arranged it so that any pie you buy, they have accounted for, or that the pie magically adapts to your taste buds. It could be interpreted either way, but you won't ever get the recipe from them. (Unless you're a family member. And sign a 30 page long, crudely written NDA.)

Either way, this means that any possible pie filling you could think of, they've managed to get a rainbow/primsatic color out of!

As for the crust and whatnot, I think Core is quite fond of offering a lot of variety. I'd think they offer a 'every flavor crust' and 'every crust additive', or just a plain ol crust.

[the-whumpening]

The Freed Tiger | (Ash's Recovery Arc, Part 3)

Prev | Masterpost | Next

CW: description of injuries, noncon drugging (for their Own Good), blood, first aid, unconscious whumpee

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

The knife clatters out of Ash's limp hand. His feet lose purchase beneath him, and he stumbles drunkenly into the pile of broken ceramic. Before the pain can even reach his senses, his exhausted body gives in to sleep.

Evius catches his wilted figure with a puff of magic before he crashes to the ground. He carefully floats Ash away from the broken mug.

“Mouse,” he calls, “grab the first-aid kit, please. Krumgus, can I trust you to clean this up?”

“No promises,” Krumgus replies, earning a stern grimace from Evius.

Mouse quickly returns with supplies and a blanket. “I thought, maybe,” she offers meekly, “we could put him on something soft at least.” She spreads out the blanket beneath Ash’s hovering body; Evius lets out a heavy sigh as he sets him down.

He takes the medical supplies from Mouse and kneels by Ash’s feet, assessing the damage. Mouse sits vigil at Ash’s side; she holds his hand in her skeletal grasp.

“How bad is it?” she asks. Evius isn’t sure if it’s entirely out of concern, or partly morbid curiosity.

“Not great,” he replies through tight lips, “but not as bad as it could be.” He rests Ash’s injured foot on his thigh, bright red blood trickling out of the gash in his sole.

“What the hell was that all about? I’ve never seen him so out of it like that—have you?” Mouse presses. “I swear he said something racist, too. That just doesn’t seem like Ash.”

Evius chuckles darkly as he deftly removes the splinters of ceramic. “The ‘devil’s herb’ thing? That wasn’t racist. That was Ozmund.” Mouse tilts her head, an unspoken question on her face. “Back when I was his protege"—he rolls his eyes—"I helped him make potions as part of my training. There was one I made that came out extra potent, and it tasted awful. He jokingly named it that after me.” He presses a cloth to the wound, a sparkle of blue magic mingling with the blood.

“But why would Ash–?”

His voice catches, his eyes trained on the cloth. “It was a sleep potion. Made with coriander and chamomile. Ozmund must have used it on him.” He shakes his head. “I’d never even considered he might still use the recipe, much less the name. I just wanted to help Ash get some rest . . . ”

“It's not your fault,” Mouse assures him. “You couldn't have known. But maybe . . . It might be a good idea to get in Ozmund’s head—what would he have probably done?” She glances sympathetically to Ash's sleeping face. “What did he go through?”

As much as Evius dreads the thought, he knows she's right; Mouse often is wiser than her years suggest. He wraps a bandage around Ash's healing injury and wracks his brain. While he thinks, he lifts the hem of Ash's pant leg to check for stray cuts or glass, finding only the still-healing burn encircling his ankle.

“Look at these, Mouse,” he says through a growing lump in his throat. “These burns are old. Months, probably.”

“How is that possible? Ozmund only had him for a couple weeks.” She lifts his wrist to inspect the burns there. “They look the same here, too.”

Their eyes meet, then flicker to Ash’s neck. Another healing burn, just like the others.

“Mouse . . .” Evius whispers, “Can you give us a moment? Maybe find some of Ash’s clothes for him?”

She nods solemnly and slips out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

With shaking hands, Evius carefully lifts Ash’s shirt off his limp body. Although he knows he won't wake anytime soon, he still doesn't want to disturb Ash’s much needed rest. His stomach turns as Ash's skin is revealed: scars of all shapes and sizes carve the landscape of his muscular form, all in varying stages of healing. But beyond the scars, he notices something else odd. When Ash was abducted, he had traded his outward tiger traits for his hybrid form—but here he is, his stripes returned to his skin. They weren't the same, though. Evius had studied and traced those stripes so many times, he was sure he knew them by heart. And these . . . Simply weren't right.

Focusing his shallow breath, he summons a cloud of sparkling indigo magic around Ash. A blur of information ripples through his mind, much of it too encrypted to immediately recognize. But his suspicions are confirmed: these new stripes are the same type of magical tattoo that he himself bears. Did Ozmund–? He pushes the thought aside; now's not the time.

His eyes linger over Ash's face, peaceful for once in sleep. Why is his hair shorn like that? Why does he have a scar dragging down his cheek? And why—Evius nearly prays—why does that burn look like . . . A collar?

Mouse knocks on the door and delivers Ash’s clothes, but she doesn’t stay. Evius suspects she could read the pain on his face.

He contemplates whether to check the rest of Ash’s body for injury. Before all of this, he would have been certain Ash wouldn't mind; it wouldn't be the first or last time Evius had seen all of him. But seeing Ash’s hesitancy with the bath and his broken trust with the tea, Evius decides to wait instead. Perhaps later, he reasons, when Ash is lucid again and able to speak for himself.

Using magic to maintain Ash’s privacy, he redresses Ash in his own clothes. They seem to fit differently than they used to: a bit tighter in the shoulders, perhaps, yet looser in the waist. Was that much change possible in such a short amount of time? He doesn’t dare dwell on the thought, focusing instead on settling Ash comfortably on the couch. It’s not the ideal place for his clearly damaged body to rest—but certainly better than the floor, he reasons. Besides, I don’t want him to wake up alone . . .

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

[suitelifeofzackandmody]

diary of a young t2d: recipe searching is a minefield

tw body image, disordered eating / dieting

recently, as fall approaches, i have been looking for new recipes to try, especially ones for baking. i have to do things differently now than i did last year, after all, so i've been looking for new techniques, tricks, or swaps that will allow me to enjoy a version of the things i crave this time of year without doing permanent damage to my body.

i did find some things i want to try that i think will work for me. i also found a lot of other advice that is not harmful by any means, but just not something that will work for me.

unfortunately, in order to find the good advice i needed, i had to wade through a river of diet culture and stigma. for example, one of the first results that came up while searching for a sugar-free pumpkin spice latte recipe was a reddit thread on a subreddit called r/1200isplenty (as in, 1,200 calories per day...yeah). the recipe itself seemed like it could be useful for me, but--and this is no shade to the person who posted it or anyone else on that subreddit--that is not a space i can occupy without losing my sanity. unfortunately, the link had already lead me right into the belly of the beast, and morbid curiosity pulled me down even further. and so i scrolled. and scrolled. and scrolled. i clicked on links to other extreme dieting forums, each one more toxic than the last. when i finally pulled away from it, i told myself i was fine, that i understand food is fuel, and 1,200 calories isn't enough of it (for the vast majority of people at least). that keeping a detailed record of my calorie intake isn't something i can do without spiraling into obsession and then crashing headfirst into a binge. that balance, health, and body neutrality are the things i value and strive for, not a certain weight or a particular look. that my genetics is very much against me on this whole losing a significant amont of weight thing anywyay. that even if i somehow lost it all, i would stil be insecure.

i reminded myself of that, but all the other (generally less terrible but still) not great advice i had already seen on a few diet/fitness blogs that day in addition to this nightmare reddit rabbit hole was too much. the next day, i started heavily restricting, eating just barely enough to keep from going completely hypo. inevitably, a couple days later i was eating everything in sight. which only caused even worse blood sugar issues obviously. and all because i wanted a sugar-free psl...

listen, i know that it's my responsibility to avoid things i know are triggering for me, and to recognize when i am being activated in that way and still respond appropriately. i am not blaming anyone but myself here. unfortunately, though, having to search for sugar-free or otherwise low-carb recipes because of my diabetes is going to populate at least some results that are harmful to me in my recovery from disordered eating because of the pervasiveness of diet culture and our cultural obsession with thinness. i just wish there was a way to filter more of it out.

that's part of the inspiration behind creating this blog actually, to have somewhere where i can share the things i've learned on creating or adapting t2d-friendly recipes without all the diet culture bs so that hopefully someone else who needs that info too can come here rather than r/1200isplenty if that's harmful for them.

i hope everyone whose posts i read can find peace with their bodies if they haven't already. lord knows i'm not there yet either.

<3 thanks for reading <3

-suitelifeofzackandmody

[floral-poisons]

Can I get HC reactions of jade, floyd, riddle and rook with a MC who says unhinged/weird stuff? Ex: "this song reminds me how I got adducted by a bear once", "I love going to the river as a kid, later I found out it was radioactive." Or "I love this food reminds me of my aunt's pet chicken"

hi anon! of course you may!! this was definitely a fun request to do. another anon also asked for something really similar to this but also wanted to include malleus and azul. so i've added them in this post!

MALLEUS DRACONIA

malleus is used to hearing weird stuff. weird stuff happens all. the. time. he’s lived for quite some time now. so when he hears you talk about a weird experience, he’s not entirely phased. he just asks you to tell the story. simple really.

“this song reminds me of that one time a bear abducted me.” you were busy rubbing your chin in contemplation.

“that happens a lot.” malleus notes.

“you’re not weirded out?”

“no. on the contrary, i’m more intrigued. go one with your story.”

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

riddle has a limited world view and limited experiences. blame his mother honestly, keeping him locked up inside and forcing him to study. it came at the price of not having any funny experiences. so he completely freaks out when you casually bring up something weird that happened to you.

“this brings me back to the time my aunt’s chicken almost killed me.” you mused.

“how can a chicken kill you? you’re much bigger than a chicken! and you’re alive at least...” riddle starts off. “unless...unless you’re a ghost! and you’re somehow here! but does that makes this the afterlife? AM I DEAD? did i die during my overblot?!”

“whoa, whoa. riddle, calm down. it’s a hyperbole i swear.” you responded nervously. “you’re alive.”

“but how do i know that? how do i know that i even exist?”

“riddle you exist.” you try to reassure.

except he proceeded to have an existential crisis right in front of you. honestly though? entirely relatable.

ROOK HUNT

rook, much like malleus, isn’t phased. he’s definitely experienced weirder things before and heard even weirder things than that. reality is always more intense than fiction.

“this class reminds me of the one time some kid at my summer camp killed a bird and it happened to be the last one of its species so it went extinct.” you were looking up at the sky.

everyone in your group was looking at you weirdly. “my, my. they must’ve been talented then.” rook lets the arrow fly, hitting the bullseye.

“yeah. you remind me of him too.”

“well, i have a respect for nature. i wouldn’t kill off a species.”

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

weird is azul’s specialty. there’s a guarantee that there’s a ton of weird requests he’s gotten. weird backstories. but you...take the cake.

“that guy reminds me of the clown dude who chased me down the street with a knife.” you muse casually.

azul spat out his tea. “and you’re alive?!” he had magic so it would be easy for him to avoid dying. you on the other hand? your magicless butt? not likely.

“i watched horror movies. and i did track in my school too. so i’m in great shape.” you smile. “his knife was a prop knife it turned out. it turned out to be a lame prank. he ran out of breath.”

“you must’ve had quite the life before coming here.” he mutters as he takes another sip of his tea.

JADE LEECH

jade is more so confused than shocked. he just needs to know if you’re talking about something metaphorically, if you’re exaggerating, or if you’re completely serious. he’s from the coral sea so what happens on land is something he’s unfamiliar with.

“this drink reminds me of that peaflower recipe my ex made that turned out to contain an octopus leg in it.”

“do...do land mammals do that?” jade raised a brow, his face showing confusion.

“i mean...i guess?” you shrug as you sip the drink.

“you’re serious right?”

“yeah i am.”

“but why would you put meat in a drink? that makes no sense!”

FLOYD LEECH

morbid curiosity. that is what floyd represents. he wants to know all the little, nitty gritty details about your story. and he’s going to get it out of you one way or another.

“shrimp! you need to tell me all about that story!” he chimes.

“which one? the one about how i woke up to the slaughtering of lambs on my uncle’s farm?”

“exactly! tell me all about it.”

“i’d rather not.” you close your book. “it’s exactly as it sounds.”

“did you see the slaughtering?”

“floyd, i was 5.”

[ruinaimagines]

(jokingly) torturing roland with awful cooking videos? I mean really bad ones like baking raw spaghetti with mince meat (yeah that's a thing) assuming that internet is a thing in the project moon universe.. and even if not.. it's funny tbh

Good news everyone! I am not dead! Sorry for my absence, it was a combination of writer's block as well as being unwell for a while. I will say I may be absent for the following two days as I am going on a trip. For all of you who are waiting on a request: I will get to it, don’t you worry! I’m just prioritizing ones I have ideas for so I don’t get burnout. (ALSO I KNOW THE EXACT VIDEO YOU MEAN.)

Torturing Roland with Awful Cooking Videos Headcanons:

When you call him over saying that you want to make something with him, he’s very welcoming to the idea!  This poor man foolishly thinks that this is going to be a fun little get together where the two of you can just spend time together. He is wrong.

Everything seems normal at first. You get out ingredients, set them on the table, and set up a video for the both of you. Roland sees nothing wrong with that, even if he prefers following written recipes he understands the benefit that comes with exactly knowing what to do.

The only suspicious thing is the way you keep glancing over to him, and he is soon to find out why. The way his expression seems to morph into distress, concern, and repulsion will forever be framed in your mind.

Oh but you play the part of feigning innocence, and you play the part well. You want to laugh, but not yet, not until he truly believes that this is what you want to cook with him.

Now he likes cooking, but he’s far from calling himself a master chef. This however, no matter how dressed up or fancy you can make it look, feels wrong. It’s enough to make a cook from District 23 cry, and they’re no stranger to uncanny recipes.

He turns to you with the most torn expression possible, only uttering “This is a joke, right?” He needs some form of reassurance to confirm that you’re not creating whatever… that is.

You remain silent, staring him dead in the eyes, doing your best to hold a straight face. Now he’s starting to grow worried because he can’t tell your intentions anymore.

The guy starts backpedaling on his statement, worried that he may have sounded a bit harsh and you really wanted to spend your time making some.. Anomalous dishes.

The moment you give into laughter you reveal that no, you are not going to attempt creating the absolutely horrid and likely physically damaging food. You aren’t going to contract salmonella, and you aren’t going to eat a plate of char.

The amount of relief on this man's face. You know it’s bad because he lets out the largest sigh, like he’s gasping for air. It’s as if some extreme weight is ripped from his consciousness, that weight being the knowledge that he possibly could have had to consume that.

Roland tries to be nice, he really does. As he himself grew up in the backstreets, he acknowledges that having something to eat isn’t always easy or possible. Because of that, you might have to put together some unsavory combinations. It might even turn into a comfort food! Hell, he definitely has some childhood snacks with questionable combinations, it’s definitely not the best for you but it brings back memories.

But for the people who are fully capable of cooking practically anything they desire, and decide to go with this, well he has no pity for them. He is a bit curious though as to what could bring someone to do this.

Now that the secret is out, you can enjoy exposing him to oh so many more videos. From people who serve rice raw, to people who don’t understand what the correct amount of salt is, and even someone who failed to prepare pufferfish, you saw it all.

Morbid curiosity did set in for that last one though. The two of you checked the channel, and turns out there were no more posts. Chances are they either ate the fish and died, or they served it to someone else who ate the fish and died. Should it be the latter, you can only hope it wasn’t someone important they were serving.

The videos are vile from a chef’s standpoint, but it’s something you just can’t seem to stop watching. It draws you in like a terrible reality TV show, and stops you from turning away. Instead of dramatic reveals and fights though you have the ability to try and predict what mistakes happen next.

While it can be easy to spot when someone is making something just for shock factor, there are some individuals who really seem committed to the craft. Roland doesn’t understand, and has a genuine drive to find out why.

Don’t be surprised if your watching time is interrupted by him desperately trying to look through the account to see if there is some sort of evidence or pointers as to what’s going on. He is no detective, but he is committed and sometimes that’s enough.

In the end he settles with the answer that either people have never eaten anything besides what they’ve made, or there’s some mass distortion at hand that's making people’s tastes awful. 

I mean there’s bloodfiends who eat people, how unlikely is it that there is something altering taste buds??? Now he doesn’t know what sort of emotional stress or trauma would cause that, but it’s a possibility!

Roland likens the food to something you’d see in the abnormalities of the floor of language. He is not wrong. He says that it’s actually from L Corp, but before it fell it breached containment and is now on the loose on the streets of the city.

While originally this began with him being completely distraught at what you’ve shown him, it’s now led into the two of you making extremely dumb conspiracy theories about the city.

Raw spaghetti mince meat is the result of a developing new singularity?? Start gathering the evidence. What if instead of bad taste being the distortion.. The food was the distortion? The two of you know it’s dumb but you’re having fun making completely wild scenarios.

Now Roland is a relatively well-behaved, trustworthy guy that stays out of trouble, that is for the most part. However he can absolutely not deny the urge to prank some of the other librarians by creating some of these concoctions and serving it to them as a gift.

You agree because it sounds fun, and there’s no way you’re missing out on the opportunity to see that. What will happen, and what you will make is up to you, but you already have the perfect victim. Chesed. (In part out of Roland’s lighthearted revenge for giving him that bitter coffee when they first met)

[georgiapeach30513]

The Muffins Are Delicious

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Summary:  Mrs. D goes to visit Owin

Pairings:  Kitten X Owin

Rating:  cute

Warnings:  mild language, soft!Owin, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  1.2K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Owin Everett-Levinson Masterlist

“Hey Mrs. D,” Owin smiles real big when Kitten walks in.  “What cha got in the bag?”

“I’m gonna teach you a thing or two.  Chloe, don’t you dare you little bitch,” Owin lets out a belly laugh at her pointing at the cat.  “Owin do something with your puss, before she jumps on me.  Teach her some manners.”

“Aw, Mrs. D, her is the schweetest thing though, aren’t ya girl?” he watches her take various things out of the bag, and then sees a container of blueberries, “I see.”

“I told you to stay away from her.  So this...this is your Mama D teaching you how to make your own damn blueberry muffins.  Where’s your,” she turns back to look at him, and he points to the cabinet above her head.  “Ahh, I’m getting coffee started.”

She wanders around his kitchen getting some water on to boil, getting a quick pet in with Chloe before washing her hands.  Moving around the kitchen much more sure of herself, forgetting that she was supposed to be teaching Owin.

“Mrs. D?”

“Yes, Owin?”

“Weren’t you going to show me how to make those?” 

“Dammit.  I’ll leave the recipe.  Your mom taught you well, and you know how to do it.  Now,” she starts pouring the water over the coffee grinds and sitting at the bar to look at Owin.  “What is your fascination with my barista?” he gives a quick shrug, and kisses Chloe on her little pink nose.  “Usually you’re a bit more talkative than this.”

“Why don’t want you me near her, but you didn’t have a problem with the others?  You didn’t have a problem with me and Az partying all the time.”

“Did you sleep with my daughter?” he shakes his head no.  “Exactly.  I know you two probably came close, but you were her keeper during that period, and I thank you.”

“I couldn’t keep her away from Mickey though.”

“He sucks, but I have my Eliana Rune, so I don’t care.  To answer your question, she’s too good,” Owin looks down at Chloe at that admission.  “Owie, you know I love you like my own son, but she doesn’t need someone of your tastes.”

“What’s that?”

“A whore,” Owin laughs and starts to make a comment, “I know Blade was a whore too, and we’re not talking about him.  We’re talking about you.  If you want to be a whore, be a whore with someone who wants to whore with you.  She doesn’t want that.”

“Everybody wants sex.”

“Yes, but sex means different things to different people,” she turns to grab a few mugs, and pulls out the muffins.  Smacking at Owin’s hands when he tries to grab one, “These are hot.  What I was saying,” Kitten pours the two of them some coffee, and slides Owin’s black coffee over to him.  “Sex isn’t just sex for some people.  There’s feelings and meanings behind it.  Sex for you is pleasure.”

“I mean things when I have sex with people.”

“MmmHmm, and what’s that?”

“I make sure she cums before me.”

“That’s good ethics, but that’s not feelings.  You understand?” 

Owin takes a long sip of his coffee, “If I had feelings?”

“Why are you so interested?  In the past you’ve always just moved on?  Why her?”

Owin shrugs, and rubs his thumb along Chloe’s head before she jumps off of him, “Little bitch, I’m just kidding baby, I love you.  She is different.  People see me, this big guy, and they want to know what size my dick is.  It’s morbid curiosity,” Kitten closes her eyes slowly and places her hand over her face.  “It’s true.  She doesn’t care.”

“Because sex isn’t just sex to her.”

“You know something.”

“I know that she dates to get married.  I know she’s done the online dating thing, and it’s not worked.  I know that she’s given up, and is focusing on other things.  And you are trouble.”

“I wanna get married,” she looks at this big boy that she has always adored, and he has the utmost sincerity in his eyes.  “I do.  I want a family.  The reason why I’m a whore, is that’s what all those girls want.  They just want my dick, and then they see that I’m a quiet guy.  I have a fucking bitch cat that is the most adorable thing ever, I like baking with my ma, spending time with my family, I love my goddaughter, and wished she was mine, minus that whole having sex with Az.  I want kids.  Why do you think I enjoy spending time at your house?  Or who babysits Ellie when Beck and Az want a date?  Me.  Who has kept her and Otto and didn’t have to stay at the castle?  Me.  Other than family Story doesn’t trust anyone with that kid, and she trusts me, because I am good enough to be more than just an uncle.  This is bullshit.”

“Owie...”

“No, I know I’m a flirt, but I think women are beautiful.  Each one has their own unique beauty, but they’re all beautiful and delicate in their way.  I want one to take care of, not because she needs me, but because she wants me, and loves me, and she, your barista, she sees me.  She rolls her eyes at me a lot, but she sees beyond what’s in my pants, or my height, but me.  I’ll keep trying Mrs. D, you know I’m a persistent man, but I don’t want just sex with her.  I want a conversation, and I want to see her without the apron.”

Her mind is made up.  As candid as her and Owin have always been, she was never prepared for him to be quite this soft for a partner.  Never thought that he would want to share his life with someone, or even think about settling down.  She’s very much aware of your status.  Divorcee and single mom.  She knows how much care you take in the men that you date, and not one as ever met your son.  Aware of how close you are with your ex-husband, and she’s not sure if Owin is the right fit, but she knows that you are interested and find him attractive.  Most women do.

“Owin, eat you a blueberry muffin.”

“Mrs. D, can you please just help me out?  I know you got a lot of pull with her.  I want a blueberry muffin from her, and I want to ask her out on a date, properly.  Like not over coffee, and there’s nothing wrong with coffee, I could drink your coffee all day,” she rolls her eyes at him, and he only laughs.  “I mean, I want to do things right with her.  I feel like there’s so much more to her than the barista that won’t give me my favorite muffin.  However, that morning glory muffin, with the cheesecake like filling, it’s kinda fighting for the top spot, but I’m a loyal bastard.  Aren’t I Chloe?  Chloe?  Where’s my puss?”

“You’re absurd, but I’ll see you tomorrow.  Be good, and keep your bitch under control.”

“Adios Mrs. D!  The muffins are delicious!”

Masterlist

[titoist]

thought 1: i watched the nostalgia critic for the first time in... very possibly half a decade. the recent "diary of a wimpy kid" review, clicking on it out of a sense of almost morbid curiosity. what immediately struck me was how old &... inert he seemed, as if he had not changed or evolved at all within the past 10 years - he holds the same almost-juvenile, exaggerated grins and frowns you tend to only see performed by junior-high boys. they look extremely grotesque on a face with jowls and an almost completely receded hairline, the whole song and dance of the sketch comedy intro only adding to the general mien of anachronism - like your thoroughly uncool uncle attempting to portray himself as cool by showing he knows what fortnite is, but it all just ends up seeming dull and... sad. i think maybe the only part of the video that is distinct in my memory as being somewhat in the ballpark of being funny was, believe it or not, the midway-point advertisements for raycon and some other cooking recipe subscription(?) i wasn't quite paying attention to. doug was playing the role of an advertiser who seems to be genuinely clueless about what he's attempting to sell, but is unwaveringly & aggressively rigid in his support for said product in spite of that. in a way that genuinely came off as droll and amusing. even then, it feels like... it came across as an almost unintended success at humor. as if doug was simply aimlessly saying things, and this character was something that sort of simply came to be out of the resulting listless detritus rising to the water & forming in a lucky shape. what i'm getting at is that all of the humor that existed seemed to do so strictly in spite of doug's directorial vision, clawing its way and slipping past his attention. another part that seems potent is when he mentioned "Scott The Woz" by name, in what was, in essence, a pretty unremarkable bit otherwise. but it was distinct only because it seemed thoroughly incongruous with the time-period it felt like the video was from - like if a 2011 AVGN sketch directly referenced 100 gecs. thought 2: ahhhhh! mosquito bites all over my body ahhhh!!! ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[themonotonysyndrome]

Vil decides to go over to Azul and Malleus so the former can have a “conversation” with his two fellow Dorm Leaders while Baby!Yuu cannot help but be amused by the three of them as he is still being held by Malleus... Rook is doing whatever Rook does and is sprouting about the beauty of love between two different species to Sebek because of the latter being half-human and half-fae while Epel is probably giving his fellow First-Year a look of sympathy of now having to deal with Rook... Lets just say that Lilia has some leftovers of his cooking, which Silver and Sebek somehow missed disposing of, and is offering them to both Floyd and Jade while Silver decides to wake up just to the smell of the Diasomnia Vice Dorm Leader’s infamous cooking and is probably wondering if he is having a nightmare...

Sorry for the delay in answering this ask. I got some fresh idea for this Baby!Yuu continuation! 

Vil is all business (with a hint of a pissed off mom aura so excuse him for that). So what if they’re Malleus and Azul? Their status and background mean jackshit to him. Azul is doing his best to keep up his polite and ‘friendly’ smile as Vil berates them of stomping into Pomefiore while Malleus treats this like any other Tuesday back home: Nod, give out an appropriate reply to the Nobles and Courtiers that came for his audience and etc. 

Baby!Yuu is just giggling whenever Azul tried to subtly pull him away from Malleus’ loose yet vigilant hold. This is fun! All these people are making funny faces too! 

Someone, please rescue Sebek from Rook's neverending of waxing poetry. Sebek can honestly say that he doesn’t give two shits about the ‘beauty of a halfling, born of both magnificent worlds’ but unfortunately, Rook is not letting him get a word in edgewise. Epel is still deciding whether or not he should rescue Sebek. On one hand, he knows first hand that Rook’s impromptu poetry session can last for fucking hours but on the other hand, Epel doesn’t really want his Vice Dorm Leader unholy and intense attention on him. 

 In the midst of chaos hidden underneath a velvet cloak, Silver finally woke up feeling refresh and at peace. 

...For about 5 minutes. The moment he saw his old man is busy keeping Azul’s infamous Tweels in check, Sebek is under Rook’s ‘mercy’ and Azul and Vil ganging up on Malleus and Baby!Yuu, his instinct kick into high gear. 

His first priority: Rescue Sebek 

His second priority: Get Sebek so they could help Lilia deal with Jade and Floyd

His third priority: Get the old man so the three of them could fend off Azul and Vil away from Malleus

So Silver whisper to a passing Diasomnia student, asking him to bring Lilia’s dish that they hid and covered it on top of a fancy tray. Make sure none of their ‘guests’ sees the tray until it’s in Silver’s hands. 

The deed is done and Silver straightens himself with the covered tray of Lilia’s food poise in his hand. He approaches Sebek and Rook; while he’s making idle chatters with Rook, Silver gesture some signs with his free hand behind his back. 

Sebek quickly took a step back. 

Rook’s eyes went wide with... something when Silver lifted the covered and presented him the odd-looking dish. Silver push it to him, saying that it’s Lilia homemade ‘recipe’ and that he’s been looking forward for the honoured guests to try it. 

Hook, line and sinker. Silver knew that Rook could never back down from a challenge and his morbid curiosity made the Vice Dorm Leader gave in and try a bite. 

Welp. Now that Rook is KO, Sebek and Silver quickly brisk walk to Lilia’s side. 

What a night!  

[carrot-kun]

Jack and the Bean stalk (A Fairytale Remix)

Note: This story is inspired by the technique of Double reading, specifically Queer reading.

I stared at the beans in the bag as I walked along the road. These magical beans would surely fetch more money than that annoying cow I sold to the elderly woman! I hopped happily while looking at my friends playing in the field next to my house.

“Jack! Come on! We need one more person!” They shouted at me when I neared them. “I can’t. Mother will punish me if I don’t reach home on time.” I replied with a pout.

“But Sally is joining us! Don’t you want to play with Sally?” They asked with mischievous grins, pointing to a jolly Sally running around with her friends.

“Mother won’t hear my excuses.” I said and waved the crowd away. Showing Mother these magic beans was more important than playing with a pretty girl.

I entered through the open door and shouted for her. Her voice rang from the kitchen, so I ran to her and thrust the bag into her hands. “Mother, look what I brought!” I exclaimed.

“I don’t have time for your games, Jack. How much did you get for the cow?” She placed it down and turned to the boiling pot.

“I got this! I sold the cow to an old woman who gave me this.” I spoke with enthusiasm. “They are magical beans!”

She stopped abruptly, shock washing over her face. “You ... sold the cow for this?” She grabbed the bag and looked inside. With a horrified expression, she threw it out the window and raised her hand.

I closed my eyes in anticipation as her hand landed on my cheek. “Mother!” I looked out at the spilled beans, cupping my cheeks.

“You are sixteen! Don’t you know how to ...” Her voice trailed off. “What did I do wrong for you to be this way?” She sank to the floor and waved me off.

I walked out of the house and kicked the rocks. She threw them away! How could I sell them now?

The night was silent as I slipped under the sheets and looking over to where the lamp was burning a few minutes ago. Mother had prepared to go to Aunt Emma’s when morning arrived. The whole journey was going to take at least four days. Her face was pale and tired. She was going to work herself sick like this.

The morning was dull as Mother put the heavy bag on her back and walked towards the orange sun. I sighed and went to the kitchen to eat the food mother had prepared before leaving. Passively, I looked out the window, remembering the beans.

Humongous green snake like stems twirled around and reached upward. I ran to the back of the house and stood wonder struck at the sight of the towering plant kissing the sky. But these were just seeds yesterday. How had they grown so much?

I wondered how tall the plant was as I walked back towards the house. Locking the door, I ran back to green giant. I put a foot to the side, grabbed the overhead branches and started climbing.

The plant seemed to grow slowly even as I was climbing up, boosting my pace. A long and exhausting climb later I reached a thick blanket of clouds pierced through by the stem. Excited, I reached out to feel the clouds but to my surprise, they felt solid.

Carefully, I stepped onto the clouds and started walking towards a green patch I saw in the distance. Where those trees in the sky? I started to jog along, my eyes searching the unfamiliar terrain.

Green cover took over once I reached the area I had spotted. It looked just like the forests down on the ground, except one small detail. That being that these trees were at least ten times bigger. The trunks were wider that church's bell towers. Fallen leaves looked like boats and the grass tickled my elbows.

Pushing through the wilderness, I stepped into a clearing. A simple wooden house stood in the middle, not even the king's castle could compare to it in size. Dazed, I walked toward the enormous structure over soil grains the size of pebbles.

A loud gasp coming from my right made me jump. "You! You are from the ground!" The terrifying voice spoke slowly. Turning my neck carefully, I saw a ginormous young face framed by long wavy black hair observing me with care. "You are!" He shouted in glee.

Too shocked to move, I felt my forehead tingling as he moved closer, his wide brown eyes just a few feet from me. "Who are you?" I asked in a squeaky high pitch.

"I ... My name is Edward. How did you get here?" There was friendly curiosity laced in his words. His hand, which was as tall as me, inched towards me and his smile showcased a set of slightly crooked teeth.

"I climbed up the magical bean stalk." My voice slipped into a shriek when his hand laid flat in front of me.

"Magical bean stalk? She kept her promise!" He yelled in excitement. "Go on, get on my hand, I will take you to my house."

Hesitantly, I stepped onto his rough hand and sat down as he stood up. He covered me with his other hand as he ran towards the house. "What is your name?"

"Jack." I replied. He opened the door and put me on the table with some fruits and vegetables on one end. The interior was bare, with just a table and a chair.

"Jack, I need your help." He spoke as he sat on the chair. Leaning forward, he put in chin on the table.

"What kind of help do you need?" I asked him.

"I was cursed by the witches and wizards in my village and put here for a crime I didn’t commit. The only way for me to return to my normal state I need to make this potion." He slid a crumbled piece of paper from his pocket towards me. "But I can only get these things on land, my size prevents me from going down there. Could you help me make it?"

"These proportions are going to cost a fortune. I don't think I can help you." I said in a morbid tone as I examined the page which was the only normally sized object in the room.

"You can take these fruits; they will fetch you a pretty penny. With their size, I doubt you will face any competition." He thrust the huge fruits in my direction and looked at me with an anxious smile. "I will help you carry it down once dusk has set." He quickly added. "Please, I can't handle being stuck here alone any longer."

My heart melted as his eyes glistened. "Since we have till the evening ..." I sat down cross legged on the table, the paper stuffed into my pants. "How long have you been here?"

His eyes darted towards me and he smiled gratefully. "At least five months. During the first month, a kind older witch wrote down the recipe for the potion and gave it to me. Before she could help me make it, she was caught, and her powers were taken away from her. She promised me she would find a way of helping me before she escaped."

"I got the beans from an old woman, that must have been her." I placed my relatively tiny hand on his to comfort him.

Amusement lit up his face as he looked down on me. "I worked as a carpenter before ... this. I built this house and these..." He pointed to the table and chair. "... to pass time while I waited for her."

"You are quite talented, Ed. Do you mind if I call you Ed?" I asked him. He shook his head. We discussed our strategy repeatedly while we waited for the darkness to set in.

We left the house with me saddled in his front pocket, a burning torch in one of his hands, a basket with a few giant fruits in his other when night arrived. He descended the bean stalk silently as I held onto his shirt for dear life.

Once on the ground, he emptied the basket into the area behind my house and placed me down. To not disturb the neighborhood, he spoke nothing and just waved at me while climbing up the stalk, disappearing into the sky. I entered my house and slept till the morning sun was shining in my eyes.

Soon I was up and moving to put the plan into action. I walked up to Sally's house and called for her father. "Sir, I have a few things that I need to take to the market to sell. I can't carry them on foot, so may I borrow your cart? Of course, I will be paying you the rent for it at the end of the day." I told him when he came to the door.

"Sure, but take Sally with you. She is the one the horse trusts the most." I agreed to the condition and within ten minutes we were on our way to the market. Sally was bewildered at the size of the fruits.

"Where did you find these?" She asked. "Did it grow on the green tower like plant behind your house?"

"I found them in the forest yesterday when I was travelling along the road." I lied.

"Take me along the next time. Were there more?" She asked in a jolly tone. "I wonder what made them grow so big. I want to study these curiosities!" She exclaimed. "I am sure the scientist living near the market would love them."

"Maybe he will buy them from me!" I snapped my fingers. "Let's head to his house first!"

We reached his place and his curiosity made him buy all four of them at the price I asked of him. He didn’t even try to bargain; it was my lucky day.

With Sally's help I completed my errands at lighting speed and reached her house before the sun set. I paid her and ran to my house. Carefully lining up the ingredients near the tower of green, I waited for the darkness to cover me.

I sensed the stalk shaking a little and looked up to see him descending at a swift pace. When he saw the things lined up, a wide smile lit up his face in the dim light of the lamp I had brought with me. Placing a giant basket with even more huge fruits on the ground, we got to work. Making gestures to communicate, we made the potion and heated it up in four normal sized pots.

Once done, he chugged the contents of the pots one at a time. Over the next ten minutes, he shrunk to my height. I knew he was young but now I could make out that he was close to my age. He ran to me and hugged me once he stopped shrinking. "Thank you!" He shouted. "Thank you so much, Jack!" He placed a quick kiss on my cheek, his long hair brushed against my skin, and he held my hands.

"Your ears are turning red!" He commented when I stayed silent. I continued to look at the ground and tried to hide my red face. "Jack? Are you ..." Before he could finish, I looked with a silly grin that made him crack up.

"You are prettier than I thought you would be." I finally spoke, trying not to stare at him for too long.

"Pretty?" His eyes disappeared in his wide smile. "Why, thank you!" A dull red spread through his cheeks.

"You can stay with me; you can’t go back to your village, can you?" I asked him as we walked into the house, the lamp in my hand.

He shook his head and hid his eyes with his hand. "My family doesn’t believe me either so there is no point in telling them either." His lips quivered.

"Then stay with me forever!" I shouted while I pulled away his hand. ''Forever?" He stuttered as his eyes met mine.

"Forever." I confirmed, leaning forward and placing a kiss on his cheek.

The next day we sold six of fruits in the market with Sally's help. Even the king's men bought two. We gave one to Sally for her help and headed back to the house. When mother arrived the next day, we gave her the money we got for the fruits which would help us live comfortably for the rest of our lives. Mother took a liking to Ed, so she let him stay with us. He taught me carpentry,we started a carpentry store together and so we lived happily ever after!

[piranhakarma]

Bon Appétit is Back

Bon Appétit is back.

As someone who was once an avid consumer of their content, it feels strange to know that new videos are being produced by the test kitchen crew once more. Granted, the test kitchen crew looks completely different now. Condé Nast and Bon Appétit, in a move that really shouldn’t have surprised anyone, have avoided addressing the issues raised about equal pay and treatment based on work and work experience. Instead they decided to hire a new diverse cast with no word on whether these new hires will be paid fairly for their work and experience or whether the cast will be given more control over how their recipes and cultures are presented on screen. As far as I know, only three of the former test kitchen members will be returning to the video platform, as the rest have elected to leave the video arm of the company, and in some cases, have cut ties with the publication altogether. The lack of substantive action on the company’s part and the general abandonment of the platform by its former stars led me to ignore the channel’s activity at first. Why should I seek out and give views to something I knew was going to make me deeply uncomfortable and potentially upset, even if only to dislike the video and pick it apart?

And then someone I followed posted a link to a video Jack Saint made reacting to the new videos and morbid curiosity got the best of me.

I think when the news of the inequitable pay broke, many of us already had a sense of what was going to happen, especially given the radio silence from Bon Appétit in the weeks during which they went through their “internal discussions”. However, knowing the corporate formula for dealing with scandals like this didn’t quite prepare me for how jarring it would be to see it applied to people and a channel I once felt I knew well. There was a video that was clearly aimed at “addressing” the controversy where the new POC hires all spoke about the work that needed to be done and that they were going to do to improve representation. The video seemed like it wanted to come off as authentic and communicative, but the avoidance of the actual wage ­­­and experience gap issue and the carefully chosen corporate words they were using just made it stick out even more than a clearly professional, corporate video would have. It was clear that the people on screen were not using their own words. The other videos made me uncomfortable in another way, Chris Morocco’s in particular. It was such a quick return to the earlier form that, as Jack said in his video, it felt like there was a dead body in the room and they were all resolutely ignoring it.

Troublingly, or maybe predictably, the new videos still got a decent number of views. The first video got dislike bombed, but the like/dislike ratio on Chris’ return video was a lot more manageable. The corporate smoothover seems like it has worked to an extent. BA may not get back quite the same audience it had before, but enough people know of them that they aren’t starting from scratch. It is also possible that people who are unaware of later revelations in the falling apart of the original test kitchen crew will be less aware of the sketchy things the remaining old members of the test kitchen allegedly did, and therefore may actually want to support those who stayed by watching the videos. From an admittedly cursory glance at their new content’s numbers, the videos with the old members seem to be doing better than the ones with the new members. It feels wrong. I would have thought this whole affair would have really exposed how constructed the ‘authenticity’ of the test kitchen videos is, but maybe it’s still not something everyone sees.

This brings me around to the other side of things: Rick and Sohla. In a weird way, the timing of their shows coming out and the new opportunities in their lives becoming visible to us has added to my feeling that the test kitchen is back. Granted, their new shows are very different in style and substance than Bon Appétit’s videos were. Rick’s Sweet Heat feels like he’s getting to work more on his own cultural terms and it seems like he’s really happy in Mexico. Similarly, Stump Sohla on the Babish Cinematic Universe has been an opportunity for us to see so much more of Sohla’s terrifying culinary skill and her wacky inventive ideas than we were even aware of. I, like many people I’ve seen commenting and responding to these shows, am thrilled to see both of them get the chance to spread their wings and be featured in ways that they were not allowed to be at Bon Appétit. All that being said, there is a voice at the back of my head telling me to be wary. I know that the dynamics Sohla and Rick have with Food52 and the BCU are likely very different from those they had with Condé Nast. At BA, the company held the power with the marketing and the branding of the test kitchen, and it was the promise of the casual but also informative atmosphere combined with genuinely nice personalities that brought people to the videos, even when they were not familiar with the featured creators. With their new shows Sohla and Rick are more valuable in themselves, and therefore are likely to have more bargaining power behind the scenes. That being said, it is still possible that they are not quite free to make what they like. There still may be decisions being made about the sort of content people want to see from them and how that content is presented where they are being made to compromise rather than being able to fully express themselves and their cultures. I’m trying to keep my eye out for any warning signs this time around (i.e. things that felt off to me in the Bon Appétit videos that I brushed under the rug). So far I worry that maybe Sohla is being made to/there is some pressure on Sohla to really show off on the BCU without as much room for her to be chill and make everyday food. The pressure may also be self-inflicted as she may feel a need to prove herself/express the extent to which she’s been trammeled in by her previous jobs. On Rick’s side of things, I worry that he might be culturally pigeonholed, like how Priya was the Indian (tm) person on the Bon Appétit channel. All we can do for now though, is wait and see, and hope that our judgements of authenticity behind the camera and the food industry will carry us through to a better understanding of our content and  how it is made.

Well. With all this happening, here’s hoping. Here’s hoping that Bon Appétit’s schemes fall apart a bit more and that their video views trickle of instead of building up. Here’s also hoping that Sohla and Rick’s shows both do fantastically well (ideally better than anything coming out of BA but maybe that’s too much to ask). And finally, here’s hope for the other members of the test kitchen that I have yet to see around, like Priya and Gaby. I hope they find fulfilling and well-paying work where their abilities and perspectives are respected, and if we’re lucky, may we’ll get to see them on the camera again sometime.

[theangriestpea]

In the Shadows : One

Summary: Jughead Jones, resident werewolf, just wants to protect his family and his back from the incoming doom of The Red Circle. Sweet Pea and Lily join him to help keep the Southside safe from human tyranny. Meanwhile a demon princess named Myra and succubus named Lavender had a plan to bring on the apocalypse. ({coming soon: Ao3 link & Masterlist))

Rating: Mature 

Pairings: Jughead Jones x OC, Sweet Pea x OC, Kurtz x OC 

Warnings: Blood, light violence, cursing

Word Count: 5k+

A/N: Huge thank you to everyone who has supported me through my recovery and an even bigger thank you to @the-gargoyle-queen​ for letting me use her OCs in this fic (Lily and Myra). She is the most amazing friend I’ve ever had and she is my biggest source of inspo as well as my biggest supporter. Thank you for your gorgeous moodboards (like the one up top) and for being my beta <3

Part One: On the Night of the Moon 

Basil. She needed basil, as fresh as possible. Gods, why did she run out at a time like this? Her flashlight bounced across the ground as she tried to find the green plant she so desperately needed to bring down Sweet Pea’s fever. It had spiked so suddenly and she hadn’t even realized that she was out. He had managed to croak out where to find his recipe for a simple potion to bring it down. It was in his grimoire, towards the back where most of his remedies were.

She had everything but basil and all of the plants in her garden seemed to wither at once the day before. It was a sign. A terrible sign that she didn’t even want to think about decoding. But sooner or later she would have to. Something had arrived here, something rotting and horrible. Something that sucked all the magic out of their garden.

Her nervous eyes looked up at the moon, beautiful and full. Full. That was the issue. No one on the Southside went out on a full moon if they knew what was good for them. Actually, no one went out after dark anymore. Not with what has been going on. Not with the red circle and their guardsmen out with guns full of silver. She looked human at least. She had no reason to fear them, per se. But what they were after? That was something anyone would be afraid of whether they were armed or not.

Something caught her eye, bright green leaves sprouting from the forest floor. The light shook in her hands as she dropped to her knees to collect as many leaves as she could without killing it. Who knows when she’d need more. She took out a leather pouch to put them in. That’s when she heard it.

A low, feral growl sounded in the unusually quiet woods. Wolves weren’t much of a danger for witches, not normally. This wasn’t any regular wolf though. It was the creature that had plagued Riverdale with so much death and destruction the past few weeks. It was the catalyst of the rift between those that were human and those that were not.

Dry leaves crunched loudly under heavy paws. The underbrush swayed, adding to the noise that had the fair haired witch frozen in place. The flashlight in her hand moved as she managed to project the light onto the shaking bushes. She didn’t want to see what it was, not really. However morbid curiosity had her looking anyway. Something about wanting to see death’s face before she met him.

Slowly it broke from the brush. A face that probably should have been white was actually grey with smudges of mud. She’d seen plenty of werewolves before, most of them were harmless if their heads were on straight. This one however even smelled like death as frothy drool dripped from its gaping mouth. Eyes a bright sunshine yellow that seemed to glow in the dim light. It was about three and a half feet tall, which made it about a head taller than any healthy wolf.

It wasn’t at full height though. Shoulders were hunched as it crouched low to the ground so that it could spring at any moment. Their eyes were connected and she could not find even a trace of humanity in them. No, this creature was too far gone. Too far settled into madness. She realized that it probably didn’t even know what it was.

Suddenly it shifted its weight onto its back feet before lunging forward with a powerful leap. She couldn’t even scream as terror strangled her.

It happened so fast.

A black blur tackled down the pale wolf that was now in midair. A dark furry mass growled, staining the already dirty fur with red. It was a hard hit but the newcomer did not have a good grip with his teeth. The smaller wolf was thrown off in less than a minute.

Lily grabbed the pouch full of basil leaves and scrambled backwards out of the way. The two wolves fought vehemently, the dark one letting out sharp yelps of pain more than a few times. The white one was thrown back again finally as howls let out in the distance. It seemed to cock its head at the sound before snarling. Promptly, the large wolf turned and bounded away.

Lily shown her light on her savior. His once fluffy coat was slicked back in places with thick liquid that she knew was blood. He wasn’t putting weight on one foreleg. His eyes were on her, a dark gold color with specs of honey. There was sanity in them, a kind of calmness. A breath escaped her chest, one she had not realized that she had been holding.

The wolf padded towards her with a heavy limp. It looked at her curiously, head cocked as if to ask what she was doing here.

That’s right, the herbs! Lily looked at her pouch and saw she had plenty of basil in it now. She bit her lip, looking towards the werewolf before glancing back towards the cottage where she lived in the woods with Sweet Pea.

“Come with me,” she finally said softly, “I can heal you, just come with me.” She stood up and offered her hand to him as if he would take it. Suddenly she felt foolish, a blush light on her cheeks as she put her hand away. “Please, it’s the least I can do.”

She turned, hoping that he’d follow her back. After taking a few steps she heard him behind her, following without any objection. He found himself wondering who she was or, more specifically, what she was. She didn’t smell totally human. In fact, she smelled like warm sunshine on an early summer morning. It was pleasant if not somewhat intoxicating. Hopefully she’d be aware that he could not change back until the moon set. This is the form she’d have to tend to for now.

The walk back was short, only about fifteen minutes. Every time she heard a leaf crunch or twig snap, Lily stopped and listened. She waited for a sign that the vargulf had come back to finish them both off. The dark wolf behind her hadn’t done much damage to it during the fight. It only left because it heard the rest of his pack coming closer. It was sick, not stupid.

Once outside the stone house she looked back at her pursuer. He blinked up at her with those same beautifully captivating eyes. She felt her breath catch in her chest again before unlocking the door and walking inside. “Sweets?” She called out into the darkness. He groaned a response from the worn couch he was laying on, half-conscious.

“I need your help.” She said as she walked in. The wolf hesitated at the entrance, looking behind him, scanning the edge of the woods for any sign of someone following them. Once he was satisfied with the silence of the trees, he hobbled inside.

The door shut behind him on its own. He noticed that the girl had flicked her wrist towards it slowly. A thought clicked on in his brain as realization hit him. She was a magic user, most likely a witch. Though he had never met a witch that smelled as wonderful as she did.

He heard the creaking of furniture and shuffling of feet. A tall man wrapped in a multitude of blankets appeared looking more pitiful than intimidating. He smelled woody, like the earth after a fresh spring rain. It was pleasant and much more witch like, the wolf mused.

The male witch spotted the wolf and halted, a scowl spreading across his face. “You brought that into the house?!” He snapped at the witch who dwarfed in front of him, “Daisy is right in the other room! Are you crazy?” He stepped between the two that had just entered protectively. He cut off the wolf’s path towards the rest of their home.

“Nathaniel, calm down.” Lily said dryly and he flinched at her using his real name. “He saved my life and he’s hurt. I need your help healing him.”

Sweet Pea huffed indignantly, “you know my magic won’t work while I’m sick.” He replied in a sour tone. “Even if I wasn’t sick, it won’t work on him in that form. Did you get the basil?”

Lily rolled her eyes and shoved him out of the way. She walked up to the werewolf who was now sitting on the wooden floor. Her hand softly pet his head between his ears, a warm smile on her face. “Go back to the couch and I’ll clean him up.”

“Him? What about me?” Sweet Pea asked in an offended tone. Shouldn’t he come first? He was her best friend and the father of her child. Certainly she should be healing him and not this stranger donned in fur.

She sighed in annoyance of his obvious jealousy, “I’ll brew your potion first then, okay?” Her voice was heavy with frustration. The warlock on nodded in response before sulking back to his place on the couch, his body lost under the layers of blankets. 

Lily grabbed his moleskin grimoire. He had wanted a leather one but moleskin was all they could afford. She had been saving up for months to buy him one for his birthday. Unfortunately their daughter, Daisy, became extremely ill and needed to see a doctor in town. It was a sickness beyond anything they could handle with simple potions and magics. Every penny she had pinched was gone. 

These thoughts perturbed her as she went to the bookmarked page. A frown was on her delicate face as she began to brew the easy concoction. Hopefully this would be all he needed. They couldn’t really afford another doctor visit. Not without skipping out on a bill or two. 

She added the basil to the part she had already half brewed. Once she finished the rest of the steps, she poured the contents into a mug with a broken handle. Purple tinted steam rose up out of the dark liquid. A light, herbal scent wafted from it. 

The mystery wolf sat in the entryway still, not daring to overstep his welcome by going somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. He watched the sad look on the witch’s face and wondered what caused such a sullen expression. He was frowning too, though you couldn’t really see it. Emotions didn’t translate too well in this form. 

Once the potion had cooled enough so it wouldn’t burn going down, Lily took the mug to Sweet Pea who was almost asleep on the couch. She peeled back the layers of old quilts and crocheted yarn blankets to see his tired face. “Here, Pea.” She whispered to him as she handed over the mug. 

Sweet Pea sat up enough to swallow the earthy liquid. It tasted like soil and was bitter going down, but almost instantly he felt relief. Chills stopped running up his spine as he lay back down. A small cough sputtered from his throat as he closed his eyes. “Thanks, Lils.” He mumbled groggily, the medicine taking effect. 

She watched him fall into the deepest sleep he’d had in weeks. A smile lit up her face as she tucked him in lovingly. The wolf, watching them intensely, mistook this tenderness as affection. It wasn’t. Not truly. Sure they had tried the whole dating thing, tried to make things work even after Lily mistakenly became pregnant. But in the end they were better as friends than lovers. They were compatible, sure, yet not quite compatible enough to last. 

So while it looked like they were a couple, it really wasn’t something so serious. Lily cared deeply for Sweet Pea and he cared deeply for her. But love? They were never in love. It was just the comfort of not being alone that they loved. After all, they had no one else in their lives. Orphans with only each other. 

But of course, he did not know any of this. He didn’t understand the pang of regret he felt in his heart. Especially since he had his own fair haired woman waiting for him on the Northside. Though admittedly things were not so great between him and Betty at the moment. The more violence that the Northside rallied for, the more uneasy it made him, and the less she understood why he found himself not wanting to ever risk crossing the railroad tracks. The only reason he did these days were to see her. 

Lily set the mug down on the small end table next to the couch and walked over to the werewolf. She kneeled down, still smiling that beautiful smile that had his pain fading away. “I guess you can’t change back yet. I’ll still clean you up though, okay?” 

He cocked his head at her, not wanting to be too vocal and wake up the sleeping members of the household. She pet his fur between his ears again, making his mouth open and tongue lull out. It was perhaps the most non threatening image of any wolf that had ever existed. He looked like an overgrown puppy that just wanted attention. 

Which was somewhat true. He did want attention, but only hers. Quickly he cursed himself for even thinking that way. 

Lily got up and motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen. He trotted, nails clicking against the hardwood floors. The sound caused her smile to grow ever so slightly. 

Once they were in the kitchen she went under the sink to grab a few towels and what appeared to be a modern first aid kit. He felt this to be a little strange for a magic user to have, though he truly didn’t know a whole lot about witchcraft and what could and couldn’t be done. 

Simple cuts and burns, bug bites and bee stings, didn’t really need magic. It could be seen as a waste of energy. There was such a finite amount that using it on any little thing was truly a waste. Lily practiced magic when it was absolutely needed and she strictly only used white magic. 

Sweet Pea wasn’t as reserved as her, using all kinds of magic (though mostly black) to do whatever it was he wanted to do. She tried to stop him, tried to get him to change, for black magic always comes with a price. Eventually you will owe more than you can give. This scared her deeply, not wanting to see him hurt in any way. 

Lily put her hand on his head for a moment and closed her eyes, “What is your name?” She asked him then. It wasn’t out loud, rather a voice inside his head and he knew what she was doing. 

“Jughead Jones.” He thought back to her. She drew her hand away, not wanting to use any more energy than she had to. Her smile faltered a fraction and he knew exactly why. It was his surname. Jones. His father was the alpha of the largest wolf pack in Riverdale. Those woods they had been in was his territory and he made sure all of Southside knew that. 

“Jughead,” She repeated out loud and he found himself adoring the way she spoke his name. “Interesting,” she giggled then before wetting one of the rags. “I’m Lily Owens and that’s Sweet Pea on the couch. Just ignore him though, he’s being an overprotective grump because he’s sick.” 

She started to wipe away the blood on his fur. The white rag began to turn pink with it. Jughead sat perfectly still, despite the tiny sparks of pain that flurried through him any time she hit an open wound. If Jughead had anything on the gods’ green Earth, it was control. 

But if Lily had anything it was the master ability of picking up even the slightest changes of body language. It was magic that required no energy for her, so when she did touch these places on him she noticed the way his eyes seemed to change for a fraction of a moment. She found herself apologizing in a soft voice whenever this happened.

“You shouldn’t go back out tonight, in case it comes back. You won’t be able to defend yourself, I don’t think…” her voice trailed as the uncertainty in her heart made it waiver. Some of the places were inches deep from long canines sinking into soft flesh. The blood was thickest there, sticky with clots and almost black.

The healing ability of werewolves was fast but not nearly as fast as legends would have you believe. These cuts would scab and fade within a few days rather than a few minutes. It was totally possible to die from things other than silver bullets, though bullets would certainly do the job faster. Regular leaded ones. Silver bullets were actually quite inaccurate due to their weight and hitting something with on was more based on luck than marksmanship. This was something The Red Circle had yet to figure out. Some legends were created as a protective cover for the supernatural. Silver bullets was one of them.

By the time Lily was done cleaning off most of the blood, the rag she had in her hand was a dark and blotchy red. Jughead felt almost a weight lifted off of him as he could feel his fur no longer clumped together with his viscous life force. To be completely honest this was the cleanest he had felt in a very long time.

The witch didn’t need to convince him to stay. Her offer was quickly accepted. The black wolf nodded his head slowly to show that he would remain there with great appreciation of his hostess.

Lily smiled a beautifully genuine smile as she stood up, tossing the red piece of cloth into the sink haphazardly. She’d deal with it in the morning. As of now it was late, past midnight, and she was exhausted. Daisy would be up early without a doubt, though she’d probably pester her father first.

“Do you want me to get you a blanket or pillow or…something?” She asked, unsure of what a wolf would need for comfort. He chuckled inside his head at her, amused by how much she wanted him to feel good.

His answer came in the form of him limping towards the brick fireplace and laying down, curling into a tight ball of fluff. Lily understood this as a sign of him not needing anything and retreated into her own bedroom to try and get some much needed sleep. Although, to be perfectly honest, she wasn’t sure if she would even be able to knowing she had a Jones in the living room. Would FP come looking for him when he didn’t return home? Hopefully not. 

+++

A purple haired demon clicked her long stiletto nails rhythmically across the oak table, obviously bored out of her mind. Waiting on assignments from her boss was even more tortuous than hell itself. She groaned after looking at the clock for the hundredth time.

The old door that led into the old house creaked and the demon’s black eyes lit up with hope. A petite blonde woman walked in, wearing a dramatically heavy robe. Dark makeup swirled around her equally dark eyes. “Have you eaten?” She asked cryptically.

Lav grit her teeth, almost compelled to tell her to go fuck herself however the small mark on her pulse point burned at the mere thought. “It’s been a few days. As you requested.” She finally replied in a strained voice. She could not disobey, not without severe consequence. Though sometimes Lavender wondered if living in hell would be less painful that walking the mortal realm under the heel of Myra’s boot.

And curse Satan for creating something as monstrous and evil as Myra’s father. The demon which taught her everything he knew. The demon that created an even bigger evil than himself. Probably, Lav thought bitterly, an evil even greater than the devil.

She was so impossibly hungry. The longer she spent on Earth with mortals the more she had to eat just to stay sane. But Myra, oh this fucking creature spawned in the depths of hell, forced her to starve herself for the past two days. It wasn’t good for someone as young as her. It wasn’t good at all.

“Excellent,” Myra said with a feverish grin that showed pointed teeth. “I have a very special conquest for you. There is a warlock in Riverdale. He’s been writing checks his body can’t cash and now my father requires his soul.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Lav drawled out in a bored tone. “You want me to fuck his brains outs.”

Myra snorted back a laugh at her crude comment. “Well, I can’t account for how much brain matter he actually has. Fuck his soul out instead.”

“But he’s a magic user. He’ll know what I am.” Lav countered, knowing that bedding a warlock could be dangerous. There were powerful spells that could seriously harm her kind. Unfortunately, she wasn’t very good at hiding her own darkness from others. She was easy to spot…if you knew things like her existed and walked the earth at least.

However, none of this was Myra’s problem. Myra’s problem was her father demanded this witch’s soul and her enslaved soul sucker just had to seduce him to get it. It shouldn’t be hard. Lav was good at what she did, whether she hid herself or not. Talent begets talent and her mother had been one of the best.

Lavender was in truth a hybrid. Her father had been human, her mother a demon. Though most demon women were infertile, barren, and totally incapable of breeding; her father had had just enough of a touch of magic to allow her to be conceived. It was nothing short of a miracle. The high ranking demons demanded the girl be recruited for the army of hell. An army that was to rise up and overtake the mortal realm of earth one day.

In short, the apocalypse.

And in the end, the prince of demons himself would have her under his thumb. Well, more specifically his daughter would have the hybrid under her thumb. Asmodeus bragged more often than not about how his daughter was the one to obtain a virile hybrid into the ranks of hell.

“I don’t want you to just obtain his soul, Shoshanna.” Myra added, her voice dropping to something that sounded more grave for a heavier impact. The use of her old mortal name had Lav on edge, “You are to conceive his child.”

Lavender froze, “You want me to have a baby?” She asked, completely confused as to why anyone would want this. She had been told that because she was a hybrid that she was capable of breeding and that any lesser demon would use her for this purpose, but Myra assured her that she was not a lesser demon.

It would seem that Myra, as she had many times before, twisted the truth when she tricked Lavender to serve under her. “And on top of that you want me to kill that baby’s father?”

Myra scoffed, not seeing what the issue could possibly be. “He won’t die. Magic users can live without a soul, in fact it makes them all the more powerful. He will be thanking you by the time you’re done.”

Deep down Lavender knew she didn’t want to do what was being asked of her. She had no desire to have children, at least not at this point in her immortal life. “So I have this child and then what?” Lavender asked, the inverted pentacle on her throat was burning now. It felt like a fire hot brand was being pressed against her sensitive skin just from thinking about how much she didn’t want to do this. 

And if hurt this much at the thought, then what would happen if she actually went through with disobedience? It was beyond sinful. 

“You give the child to me.” Myra replied as if her minion was the dumbest demon that walked the Earth. “I will raise it to follow Asmodeus’ whim just as I was raised and just as I’ve commanded you to. They will join the legions of hell and we’ll be one step closer to our goal.” 

The gears inside the succubus’ brain clicked into place. “My child is going to start the apocalypse?” It was a bit of a reach, however she knew how Myra operated. She knew what the endgame was and she knew what was needed to get there. A child. A very special kind of hybrid to be exact. 

Myra smiled, cruel and wicked, “as it is written. The child will bring hell on mortal Earth.” She moved closer to the young demon and cupped her face in what could almost be seen as a loving manner. “You are the key, Shoshanna, that is why I have cultivated you into the best seductress on this side of Hell. Do this for me and I will set you free.” 

Freedom. The thought rang suddenly, as clear as a church bell in Lavender’s mind. Freedom which she had been dreaming of for over twenty years was now within reach. Bringing on the apocalypse couldn’t possibly be that bad of a price. After all she was already guaranteed her run of the Earth and her fill in the souls of mortal men. What did she have to lose?

The burning disappeared suddenly and all thoughts of deserting the cause vanished with it. “Deal.”

Suddenly the door broke open, a lean and very naked man stumbled in, holding a shoulder that was drenched in thick dark blood. There were a few other scrapes and obvious bite marks across his arms and upper torso, but his shoulder was definitely the worst.

Lav glanced out of the window and saw the sun was rising. The newcomer collapsed onto the stone floor, his breath ragged and rough. Myra moved at a speed that Lav had never seen before, at his side instantly and scooping him into her arms. The purple haired demon watched with growing curiosity.

“Leave us,” Myra demanded then and Lav sighed. She stood and left after giving a small wave by flicking her wrist nonchalantly. Once she was gone Myra began to brush back the man’s dark hair.

He groaned as he rested his head against her, clearly exhausted from the battle with the moon. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened since sundown. He wasn’t even sure how he had gotten here. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was safe within his demon princess’ arms.

“The Jones boy,” Myra practically growled with seething hatred. “He will pay for this.” She could smell his scent all over her lover as well as the death and decay that her rabid wolf had brought. The blood was not all his and that she knew for sure. The wolf just breathed a heavy sigh in response, not knowing who Jones was or what Myra meant by what she said.

Myra chanted a spell in a demonic language that was older than the Earth itself. At once all of the wounds on his body began to close and heal. The magic slowly worked its way throughout his body so that there was nothing left but the blood that had come from his wounds and from his attacker. His mouth was full of it. Coppery and earthy, it was actually a comforting taste.

“Kurtz,” She said softly as he began to fall asleep, his body torn from the change that caused him to run rampant across Riverdale. “Let’s get you cleaned up, my love.” Her voice was light and almost human.

Hazel eyes peered in through the window, watching with an absurd amount of intrigue. In the two decades she had been enslaved to the blonde demon, she had never seen her act…tender. She had brief lapses where she wasn’t quite as horrid but she was never sweet. Lavender thought she was incapable of such things. Myra was so distracted that she couldn’t even feel her presence there right outside the ramshackle house.

That was perhaps a good thing, as Myra would have tortured her with rage had she noticed.

Myra managed to get the man she called Kurtz up and into the bathtub. She ran him a bath of hot water, adding a few herbs into the mix to help soothe his broken body. The change was so hard on him. The madness wracked his body, causing him to shake in the milky bath water.

She grabbed a washcloth and began to scrub away the blood as he relaxed against the tile, his head falling to the side as he fell in and out of sleep. “The white witch, did I get her?” He asked suddenly in a broken voice that had her withered heart wrenching.

“No, not this time.” Myra replied in a tone that showed no disappointment in him. She was too worried to care if the witch was dead or not. He had come close, she could feel that, but the black wolf got in the way.

They had finally crossed paths, light and dark, and Myra feared that she may be too late to stop them. There was one way the final prophecy could fail, only one, and of course those two had something to do with it. At least as far as she could tell. Decoding ancient texts was not an exact science, rather a fine art.

But there was still time, her slave was now on course to become with child. Soon no one would be able to stop her from raising the depths of hell.

“Soon, my wolf.” She said with a bite to her voice now. Anger bloomed as the water began to turn pink. She stared intently at a sprig of fresh lavender that floated by, “We will get her soon.” 

tag list: @the-gargoyle-queen​, @southside-vixen​ @wayward-river​ @redhairdontcare732​ @cigarettesafterserpents​ message me if you want to be added!

[arialerendeair]

Magnus B-day prompt: He tries to teach Izzy (and maybe Alec) how to cook. Emphasis here lies on "tries".

Ehehehehe, “tries”, because of course.  I just love Magnus trying to help these two utterly helpless idiots.  Though Alec can at least manage breakfast, so he’s not completely helpless.  

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~

Magnus blinked at the not-small fire currently taking place on his stove and turned to Isabelle.  

She held up her hands.  “I was just doing what you told me.  I swear.”  

Magnus looked back at the fire that had currently taken over two burners and was working on a third.  They weren’t even on.  “Isabelle, how did you light anything on fire?” 

Isabelle waved towards the stove.  “I don’t know!  Can you, you know, put it out?” 

Magnus stared at the flames in morbid curiosity.  “I could, but I am sincerely tempted to find out if they are magical since I still don’t know how you managed to create them.”  

Izzy pouted at him and slapped him on the shoulder.  “Rude.”  

“Only truth, my dear,” Magnus said, waving his fingers quickly, extinguishing the flames that had been starting to climb too high.  He looked over his shoulder where he could see Alec trying not to smile as he worked on his tablet.  “Don’t think I can’t hear you laughing back there, Alexander.”  

“You’re the one trying to teach Izzy to cook, Magnus.”  

Magnus raised his nose in the air.  “I refuse to believe that anyone can be that bad at cooking.”  

Izzy raised a hand.  “I can.”  

Magnus shook his head and put his hands on his hips.  “You can create magical fires out of nothing, but you are not that bad at cooking.  The Institute would have burned down long ago if you were.”  

“That has more to do with the speciality fire alarms we have in the kitchen,” Isabelle said, wincing.  “And the rule that I can’t cook without someone else in there.”  

Magnus turned incredulous eyes to Alec.  “Seriously?”  

Alec lifted both of his hands.  “I have long since accepted that this is Izzy’s one weakness and is the only reason she is so badass in so many other areas.”  

Isabelle gave her brother a grateful grin.  “Love you, hermano.”  

Alec winked at her.  

Magnus looked between them both.  “Okay, we’re going to try again, and this time I’m not going to leave the room, so there won’t be anymore accidental fires.”  

Izzy sighed. 

Alec lifted his eyes to Magnus and smiled.  “I love you for trying.”  

“I refuse to only try, Alexander,” Magnus said, focusing on Isabelle.  “Now, let’s try again, from the top.  You have the instructions?” 

Izzy held up the recipe card.  “Yessir!”  

~!~ 

This time it was ten minutes before there was an impromptu fire taking place on the stove and Alec barely managed to stifle his laugh.  

“I think you’re part warlock, my dear,” Magnus said, staring at the flames once again starting to consume his stove.  

Izzy sighed and slumped.  “I’m a lost cause.”  

“I would never call anyone a lost cause,” Magnus said with a huff.  “However, I think, darling, you might need to accept that this is never going to be an area where you have success.”  

“Yeah,” Alec said, sneaking up behind her to give her a hug.  “You’re going to have to accept being a brilliant Shadowhunter, badass Weapons Master, best Forensic Scientist in New York and best sister.  Sorry to break it to you Iz.”  

Izzy smiled and leaned into Alec’s shoulder.  “I guess I don’t need to add Master Chef to that list, do I?” 

Magnus looked at his stove and the blackened pot that he disappeared with a flourish.  “I think fate simply won’t allow it, Isabelle.”  

Izzy stifled her laugh into Alec’s shoulder, grinning.  “Well, thank you for trying anyway, Magnus.”  

Magnus winked at her.  “Now, how about I summon us lunch from my favorite bistro in Paris?” 

“Sounds great,” Izzy said, her mouth watering at the idea.  

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~

Me, still doing MB3 prompts because I spent most of it sick and I’ve been sick for almost 3 weeks straight?  MORE LIKELY THAN YOU MIGHT THINK.

[clatterbane]

Browsing through one 19th century cookbook someone linked to earlier (I don't even remember who), I ran across one recipe for a supposedly freckle-removing lotion which called for "spirit of salts". Is that like Epsom salts, or maybe spirits of ammonia? Looking it up, I was a tad surprised.

Not so much that you can still buy something under that name here, but:

Yep, that is apparently hydrochloric acid! If you used enough of that on your face, any freckles might indeed come off--along with the rest of your skin 😨

(I did have to giggle at one of the sponsored results coming from "My Bubble Bath", especially in this context. But I really did not want to click through to find out more! Guessing it's for limescale removal or drain cleaning there too. Hopefully not in your bath water.)

Thankfully, that recipe was only calling for what turns out to be less than a teaspoon in 10 oz. of water, but yeah no thanks.

Out of morbid curiosity, I had to try to look into whether that ingredient was just that one author's idea, or a more common thing at the time. Doing a quick search, I did indeed run across several references in other 19th century books.

I found one other pretty much by coincidence, with spirits of salt being called for to remove ink and dyes in some household cleaning applications. Sounds more reasonable! But, one freckle remover recipe in there straight up calls for muriatic (hydrochloric) acid, and otherwise looks essentially identical to the first one.

It's certainly...interesting reading. And the main reason I'm even posting this, for the Victorian explanation of freckles. And the red hair that frequently goes along with them.

From Mrs. Hale's Receipts for the Million (Philadelphia, 1857):

533. How to treat Freckles. — Most of us have observed the effect produced on white paper by holding it closely to the fire: it changes rapidly from white to brown, and becomes scorched. Chemists tell us that most combustible things, both in the animal and vegetable world, have carbon for their basis — so has the skin ; and, if it be exposed to the heat, it becomes, like them, spotted or charred. The iron and oxygen in the blood also assist to produce this effect. Thus we have the cause of freckles. Those who, like Richard Coeur de Lion, and Mary Queen of Scots, have red hair (which is caused by a red-colored oil, more strongly impregnated with iron than others), are most liable to freckles.

The most effectual means of removing freckles, is the use of those chemicals which will dissolve the existing combination. The freckles are situated in the second or middle membrane of the skin; and, before any other application, it will be advisable to soften the surface by the use of some mild balsam or paste.

Hippos put out that odd reddish sweat. Maybe redheads are similar?

As for that iron (or was it scary sounding charred carbon? 🤔):

535. Another. — To decompose the freckles, by laying hold of the iron, the following mixture may be applied : Take one drachm of muriatic acid, half a pint of rain-water, half a teaspoonful of spirit of lavender; mix well together, and apply two or three times a day to the freckles, with a camel's hair brush. The acid seizes upon the iron, and the oxygen is disengaged.

That certainly clears things up! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So, we're looking to remove rust deposits from the dermis? Used in higher concentrations, that certainly works on steel and a variety of other inanimate materials. ("If you are going to use muriatic acid to remove rust despite the heath risks...") Not sure that's the best plan for imagined iron spots in your skin, however.

What's sad is that this doesn't actually sound any more ludicrous than some of the claims and explanations made for currently available beauty products, once you get past the very Victorian language it's wrapped up in.

Another thing which has changed less than I would prefer? The main rationales offered for making these DIY health and beauty products sound very familiar. Save money, and also avoid the harmful chemicals used in commercial products! Which was admittedly a more serious concern back then, before safety regulations were a thing.

While I haven't seen a lot of modern beauty recipes calling for hydrochloric acid, some of them still sound like about as big a fail on the "avoid harmful things" front 😑

[builtperil]

i kinda wonder how dexter would handle an encounter with the fnaf animatronics especially the more super natural ones like nightmare

;;ANON ILU; YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHICH SPOTS TO HIT.–moving forward;

;;I beg to question, firstly, how he’d get involved in any of the Fazb/ear Franchise ( the in-game pizzeria franchise, not the game itself ) that would lead to the possibility of dexter connecting with the animatronics in any way, HOWEVER – let’s chalk that up in ANY situation to ‘ bad business bureau especially with their marketing towards kids ‘ - so dexter’s 100% doomed.

;;–SO THEN:

;;I imagine in general FN@F fashion, he’d be stalked by any / all of animatronics - assuming they go after children as well as adults. now, in his eyes, to see them start moving around the halls & about the place would be unsettling – but he might assume they’re ‘ malfunctioning ‘ & / or ‘ their servos locking up if they stay in place for too long– ‘ whatever ph/one guy said on that note. STILL CREEPY BUT SLIGHTLY LESS SO. in such a case, there’s a possibility he could get the idea of ‘ oh hey, a minor malfunction in their systems? I could fix that no problem, the owners would love it! ‘ –& then he’d promptly get stuffed into the nearest suit on the premises.

;;OK MAYBE NOT – but I can’t see after getting a GOOD look at the animatronic’s faces, -not to mention the smell of death / mucus near them – he’d really want to touch them afterward – & even if he still did, one shriek / abnormal noise / moan from any of the robots & he would back RIGHT OUT of that situation. cue dexter bringing up a power generator to keep any & all doors shut & / or hacking into the lighting system so that it NEVER shuts off & then cowering under the desk. –ESSENTIALLY ALONG THESE LINES.

;;THAT’S just for the general recipe of a FN@F situation, however – in terms of something like the situation of FN@F 4 where some animatronics are more phantom than physical–

;;well. what can you do other than make sure you’ve packed another set of pants?

;;–NO REALLY, what can you do if whatever’s attacking you can only be SEEN, not touched? -like we assume nightmare is. I know the static screech that emits from his jumpscare would audibly overload the poor boy, not to mention the scare itself triggering a HEART ATTACK. morbid curiosity might lead him to want to press on & find it’s source for a bit, I can EVEN see him attempting – or WANTING to defeat it once & for all somehow? but he’d wait it out for the most part & try to hide until it all stopped, I think. & then only wait to deal with the trauma that comes afterward.

[crystal-wingeddragon-spikes]

If anyone has any source for me to research 1968 clothing and any sort of fashion in general, I would greatly appreciate it. 

Please do not make fun of my misspellings in the picture, as they are quick idea notes. My proper and usual texts are the result of careful editing.

Please don’t mind the Griffin. She is an OC concept art for @the-one-random-internet-kid

If you like my TF2 content, please consider following @nopakun because I may no longer post any TF2-related content on this blog.

Previous post for Medic: (BLU)

https://crystal-wingeddragon-spikes.tumblr.com/post/182063267964/co-created-by-my-sister-clinically-psychopathic

Details of characters available under the cut. It is large.

Co-created by my sister

Scout (RED)

is full of energy and (mostly) optimism with a pinch of narcissism. 

plays with the boys. Everyone tends to forget she is a girl.

is a single child, but adopted as a sister by the neighborhood.

loves baseball, running, and ballet. She will kick everyone who laughs.

will never hesitate to add small, cute decorations into her hat and will fight everyone who dares to laugh.

talks really fast.

Everyone agrees her attitude is almost the feminine carbon copy of BLU Scout.

Spy (BLU)

is a stereotypical classy lady who collects perfumes, wines, and ornated knives.

would rather die than not putting on her (blast resistant) makeup behind the mask.

may or may not already know almost everyone’s real names and weakness.

Her past is littered with corpses of former allies. No one knows that, except the opposing Spy.

They used to work together well before the relationship deteriorated into a series of epic back-stabbing which ended as he left her to die. She doesn’t. 

is not here for revenge, but will gladly take it should the opportunity present itself.

Both Spies have mutual fear for each other. The RED Spy currently has the advantage, however.

Heavy (BLU)

offers to cook various earthy, mother’s recipe when everyone is exhausted, especially after a failed mission.

looks out for teammates’ well-being and occasionally even willed to listen to BLU scout babbling.

can decently read and write in English, but barely able to pronounce words correctly.

insults everyone on RED as babies, even the RED Heavy. She is the reason why he occasionally grows his beard, but he will eventually succumb to his annoyance on how the beard feels bad on him, shaves and restarts the cycle. 

speaks softly most of the time, but can roar like a bear.

doesn’t name her guns.

Engineer (RED)

is generally a nice person with morbid curiosity.

knows how to marinate, grill and season very well, but please don’t let her cook anything else.

wished she can wear fancy makeup, impressive hairstyle, and nice nail polish but knows how inefficient it is.

doesn’t hold her liquor well.

has a cute evil laugh.

stashed so many blueprints of many failed invention. From times to times, she brings them out and read them for inspiration. Nothing is useless to her. 

thinks guns are cute.

Extra:

A bit of BLU Medic’s back story is that she grew up on a racehorse farm, making her trademark “pet” a horse named Trüb Tante (google translate of “Grey Lady”) which replaced Archimedes for her “Bird head”.