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septusuki · 5 months ago

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This doll's stitching is coming apart. To be perfectly honest, its re-re-re-stitching is coming apart. Slowly being pulled apart, from the inside. By a glut of stuffing, that was never meant to be there in the first place. She can only be thankful that her head and her torso are separate components, so none of the swelling malaise can spread to her cranium. Her arms though, her legs though, and most definitely her belly, is fully under it's spell. Trying to sit politely, and straight-up on her desk, this doll — this overpuffed plushy — struggles as the wind knocks it onto it's side; her butt is so round that she couldn't stay upright even if she could move her arms. Still smiling, even as her bulbous middle impedes her every action, she just lays there, immobile, save for when her owner intercedes.

This plushy cannot be entirely sure if she wants her owner to save her or not, though. If her owner does ever pick her up, it's for a sodden, sordid purpose. Under her left arm is a metal washer, so small that it can hold the fabric apart, and leave a tiny hole, both in clothing and fabric-flesh. The doll's owner put it there, in a flight of fancy, and has been using it, ever since. Almost daily. Whenever the mood takes her — which is most always — she delivers the doll from the desk, and onto her lap. For any other doll, in any other situation, this would be a blessing, no doubt. Playtime! For this one, though, it is a death knell. A funeral bell.

Still laying on her side, the doll feels another piece of stitching in her top tear. Slowly, and so humiliatingly that it's painful, the ties come undone, wheeling around in space before being pulled tight, and then popping. Another tear, opened up just in front of her right side. Her dress is inches from busting apart, wholesale. For now, she'll have to bear the slow-motion alternative. The slow screaming, squealing death throes of her outfit, ripping apart and exposing her squeaky-clean pinkish silk-skin. She wants to hide her face in her hair; cyan-blue locks that reach down to her chest. That reach down to sit on her chest. The only part of her that her owner has promised she won't ruin.

"Oblivionis!" Finally, her name is called. Her ticket is punched. A hand, that was once tiny, wraps almost two-thirds around her tummy, and steals her from the desk-side. "There you are!" Her owner giggles, and the rest is already decided. She pulls the plush in close and hugs it, almost popping a button on the girl's reddish dress. She hugs so tight, that the plush can swear she can feel her woollen eyes bulging. To say nothing of her lower half, the stuffed toy is compressed almost to bursting, so much so that her bottom-half hangs even lower, out of the bottom of her vantablack skirt.

After the hug is over — after the torture is ended — the stuffed stuffy is placed on her owner's lap. She knows what comes next. Perhaps being squeezed wasn't so bad. A beady, thick syringe is inserted into the washer's pupil, driving in deep enough that the doll swells up slightly, just from it's presence. The doll's owner purrs, her hand caressing the improper swell of her toy's tummy. And then, her thumb presses down on the syringe's pump.

Stuffing is injected, right into the doll's stomach. Hyper-compacted inside of the syringe, it explodes into life once it finds semi-colonized, open earth inside of the doll. Immediately, the doll puffs up, her outfit growing more and more tense with each press from her owner. Her arms swell, her gloves becoming spheres of stuffing. Her legs swell, so much that her boots come close to bursting off. Her face is slowly obscured by bloated belly, as she grows, and grows. Infinitely larger, it feels, even if it's only a few inches. The doll's diameter grows, her skirt's waistband biting into the newly bloated belly. Her shoulders surge upwards, forming a tyre around the plushy's head, so much so that it'd be hard to breathe if she needed to. Another button pops off, and all her owner can do is snicker. She doesn't leap to grab it, or curse herself for being so eager. She just watches the little plastic discus fly through the air, and land on the floor. The plushy's chest is exposed more, inch by inch, as the now freed fabric eases apart.

The syringe is empty, but that doesn't mean it's over. Her owner grabs her up by the waist — what was once so slim, and is now the widest part of her — and massages. She is plumping her, like a pillow, to make sure she doesn't look deformed and uneven. Moreso than she already is, at least. Her thin, dainty fingers examine the plushy's every angle, squeezing stuffing into place until the doll is as perfectly round as can be. Finally, she lifts the doll up, by the bottom, and elevates her up to her head. So she can see her tormentor, perhaps, and the bright smile between her short, blonde locks.

"Oblivionis, you're getting so heavy!" Misumi Uika smiles, as it becomes obvious that she's been weighing her plushy doll in her hands. The doll can't stop smiling, even as her torso swells to cover the fabric that makes it up. Even as her bottom-half reaches to touch her lacy masquerade mask, she can't say no. She can't defy anything, or even speak her abject horror. All she can do is hope, that one of her buttons pops off, and smacks her owner in the face. Perhaps that would teach her a lesson.

#fic #expansion #dollposting #bandori #technically #oblivionis my love my lard

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whackacole3 · 1 year ago

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do you have any tips for new writers? you write fast and your fics are pretty damn good so i thought it would be good to ask you!

omg yeah, i can try! here’s a few things that come to mind. this stuff is mainly for writing fanfictions, but i guess it can apply to books as well?

reminder this is just what i suggest, if you think differently that’s okay! every writer is different.

and if anyone has any more suggestions, feel free to either comment and/or reblog with your suggestions.

(also idk what speed has to do with anything but that just comes with practice and motivation 😭)

1.) stop caring and stop worrying. i know this might sound counterintuitive but it's really not when you look deep into it. once you sit down and decide to just have fun is when your best work comes out, at least for me. writing is supposed to be fun, you’re supposed to enjoy it. if you find yourself stressed and dreading writing you’re doing it wrong. remember to take breaks if you need it to refresh yourself. writing is extremely hard, but i believe in you. just try to have fun!

2.) find more ways to come up with ideas. i think most people would agree that prompts are hard and many people don’t know how to come up with them. personally, i use quotes. if you know anything about me, quote fics are my fucking life, man! you can use lyrics from songs, a funny moment that happened in your life, a saying your parent always told you while growing up, literally anything! go wild.

3.) find your unique style. when it comes to writing, everyone has a style just like when it comes to any other art form. i write in a more casual, organic style because that’s what comes naturally to me. don’t try to mimic other’s styles because you think yours isn’t “good enough” or something of the sort. you can take inspiration, but don’t forget to be true to yourself and your own style.

4.) write how you want. piggy backing off the last one, don’t let anyone tell you something is “improper” or whatever. if you think adding a million commas best suits your story, then so be it! i use dashes, ellipses, and semi-colons like my life depends on it. it’s an important part of how i write and that’s that’s okay.

5.) make sure to commit to it. while it is important to not push yourself too hard and to take breaks if you need it, don’t forget to commit to it. try and write everyday. whether it be only a paragraph or the entire story in one go, every little bit helps. it gets you into the groove, basically! i’ve heard some people say that 250 words should be your daily minimum, but personally mine is 100. so it’s whatever works for you.

6.) don’t expect it to be easy. writing is hard, that’s just the case. you are making up your own stories (with already set in characters or not) and coming up with things is hard! it’s going to get confusing at points, it’s going to get frustrating, it’s going to make you want quit sometimes. this will happen especially if you write longer form content.

7.) don’t give up and always believe in yourself. feeding off of the last one, no matter how hard it is, don’t ever give up. take breaks for however long you need, but never give up. you can do this. and if no one else believes in you, believe in yourself. you are what matters.

8.) don’t forget to edit and revise. you don’t exactly need to go over your work once you finish, but it’s a very good practice. if look through it at least once or twice: you’ll find mistakes that you maybe didn’t notice; you’ll notice scenes/sections that you can elongate to better serve the purpose/narrative; you could find things don’t matter and can be removed; and so much more. you don’t need to go crazy over it, but it’s definitely something you should do.

9.) don’t forget/be scared to ask for help. everyone needs help from time to time, even the best authors/writers need guidance from others. ask your friends to help with a scene/part or two if you need it, if they’re willing ask them to edit/beta for you, and so forth. you’ll never get anywhere without the help of others, you can’t do this on your own and that’s okay. you might want to be independent and get there by yourself, but that will be ten times harder than if you just ask for a little bit of help.

10.) write for you and nobody else. i would say this is probably the most important one. don’t worry about what others think, story telling is for you! yes, you might share it with others (directly or by posting it online) but at the end of the day, it’s for your enjoyment and no one else’s. if you want to write an OC and canon character, do it! doesn’t matter if no one cares about your OC other than you. YOU ARE WHAT IS IMPORTANT!!!

#cole talks #cole rambles #writing #writing tips #writer #author #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic tips #fanfiction tips #tips

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cakeofdoom · 1 year ago

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Tell us about the Greenlandic houses!!

Aww tank you for asking me <3

Traditionally Greenlandic houses were built as winter-dwellings, places the Kalaallit/Greenlanders would live during the winters only. During the summer where most would move into tents.

The traditional/pre-colonial houses would usually be made out of turf held up by driftwood, the windows were made out intestines stretched out so that they became semi-transparant. Inside there would have been one large bench running along the length of the wall opposite of the door. This bench was where most work was done inside the house and also where people would sleep.

There usually lived several different nuclear families or a single extended family inside each house. Each family occupied their own individual parts of the house, the divisions of which were usually made out of skins hanging from the cieling.

One of my favourite debated amongst the danish colonizers during colonization was whether or not the Kalaalit houses followed christian morals or they were actually sinful and showed that the Kalaalit were dirty heathens. You see, there was a great debate about whether or not the Kalaalit were actually 'naturally christian' - that is to say that they despite not knowing about Jesus already followed most christian teachings and therefore only needed a bit of theology to become good christians. The other more conservative side of the debate believed the Kalaalit were far from living good christian lives and that much of Greenlandic culture had to be changed.

One side argued that the houses were actually following christian morals because they were shared (christians love sharing and caring^tm) and that there was a clear division between genders of different families because of the skins hanging from the cieling. On the other hand it was argued that the buildings were heathen, because those skin divisions weren't good enough (they're literally just some skin hanging from the cieling, you can peek through them if you're naughty) and that living together with different families without actual walls was very improper and not what jesus would have wanted.

There's a lot to say and this blog-post is not extensive (wow who woulda guessed), but I hoped it was interesting enough! Down below is an image of an earth house from 1930, it's not the same as they would have been in the 1700s (this one is probably only made for one nuclear family as an example).

#history #greenland #colonialism #imperialism #1700s

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yououghtaknow · 4 years ago

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NEW CLIP: “Make Up Your Mind”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31213955/chapters/77304212

#skam brighton #hey besties!!!!!#i love writing therapy clips. it's fun it's deeply sad #therapy scenes when the characters are honest? great.#therapy scene when the characters lie? AMAZING. not what should happen in therapy. but narratively FUN #also i deeply regret naming the psychiatrist dr fredrickson because that name takes SO LONG to type out #but oh well. life goes on.#currently watching the new mice & murder and having such a fun time #i love it when people lie and have secrets and are silly #sylvester and daisy's dynamic is my favourite thing in the world #also i love adapting big exposition songs for skambr it's so very fun #because with a lot of musical shows they just use songs for Emotion and Emotion Plot #and i like using it for things that could easily be said with words. i love the drama of it #also i love the superboy/invisible girl dynamic as presented in n2n and it can be seen very often in skam brighton. i love having fun #especially because my sibling dynamic is very normal and boring and fine. we have no drama we're just chilling.#well we do have drama but it's us arguing about nerd shit like the use of oxford commas and the best strategies for chess #we once had a thirty minute argument about the improper use of a semi colon at a family dinner #at the time i was like 8 and he was 21. like bestie you are arguing with a literal child

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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Paging Healer Malfoy // Chapter Two - The Improper Use of Magical Materials (D.M)

A/N: CHAPTER TWO!! I wonder fi you can all guess what’s going to happen in this chapter from the title alone? Draco deals with some interesting cases, and I am loving writing this series. The love for the prologue and chapter one blew me away. I only hope you love this one just as much!!!

Summary: Coffee equals venting as well as inquisitions over personal lives. Interesting patients have their way of falling into Draco’s lap.

Warnings: mentions of coffee, mentions of procedures, hospitals, injuries, swearing, mentions of food, mutual pining, yearning, an overuse of commas and semi-colons, interesting medical cases.

Word count: 4k

Prologue// Chapter One

By the time Draco has a long enough lull in patients, it’s been a couple of hours and he’s more than ready for a coffee.

The tradition of coffee with her had started through their training; it was how they vented to each other after a particularly long shift that had either been difficult or slow. It was how over the course of their training; their friendship had formed. It was over the coffees and the vents that Draco slowly realised his feelings for her were far from platonic.

(Y/N) stands at the admit desk, chatting to one of the longest working nurses at St. Mungo’s, Lydia. Lydia had seen it all; there was very little that could shock her. Draco thinks out of his eight years at St. Mungo’s, he had only ever seen Lydia speechless from shock twice. Both of those cases had not had positive outcomes.

(Y/N) greets Draco with a smile that almost knocks him breathless. He slots his chart into the discharged box and cracks his knuckles; he grins at (Y/N)’s displeased face, knowing that that particular habit gets on her nerves.

“Are you free now?” She asks; an eyebrow raised as if she’s expecting another rebuff.

Draco nods, “Coffee?”

(Y/N) smiles broadly; another smile to leave him breathless and hopelessly yearning for her as she murmurs her goodbyes to Lydia.

The café for St. Mungo’s is on the very top floor, and Draco thanks every god and deity out there that the hospital board had seen fit to install a lift instead of relying on the stairs. It was useful for practical reasons too; especially transporting patients to different floors and such alongside Draco’s continued avoidance of physical exercise.

It wasn’t an overly large café, but it catered for the Healers and nurses on every floor as well as the steady stream of patients and their families that came through the doors. It constantly smelt like coffee beans; the scent settling within Draco’s bones as he walks to the till with (Y/N) by his side.

Happy to see their usual table by the furthest window empty, Draco heads over there with their tray of freshly brewed coffee. They sit across from each other and share a tired smile; they were coming up to halfway through their shift now. They both loved their job; they couldn’t imagine working anywhere else as anything else but even they couldn’t help but countdown the minutes until they could clock off and go home to their showers and their beds.

Adding a splash of milk to her coffee, (Y/N) asks, “What do you think of the new trainees?”

Draco nods, “I think they’re going to be better than last year for definite.”

(Y/N) nods her head in agreement. Draco grabs a sugar packet from the centre of the table, “What do you think of your student?”

She rolls her eyes fondly, “He’s rich, that’s for sure. The only other person I’ve ever seen with a tailored lab coat is you.”

Draco huffs; tugging at the collar of his lab coat, “It was a gift, thank you very much.”

She laughs, “And you look very dashing.”

Draco turns her nose up at her, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

(Y/N)’s eyes sparkle with mirth over the rim of her coffee cup; the cup barely concealing the smile on her face. Draco returns the grin in earnest; never truly able to stay mad at her or hold a grudge against for too long.

“How have you been?” She asks; light concern lacing her voice.

“I’ve been okay,” Draco answers; expecting the worry she always has for him. He had been diagnosed with insomnia after the second wizarding war. It came in waves; he could have weeks, even months, where he slept fine, but then he would have periods where sleep was a distant memory.

“Have you been sleeping better? I can always prescribe you something if you need it.”

Draco waves away her offer, “I don’t need medicine to help me sleep.”

“Draco, you have insomnia. You, yourself, have admitted that traditional remedies aren’t helping.”

“(Y/N), I’m fine,” He reaches out for her hand; she lets him take it, “I’m fine. I’m sleeping better, I promise.”

She bites her lip; looking like she so desperately wants to believe him. For a second, Draco thinks she’s going to argue but at the last moment she decides against it. Instead, whispering what she wanted to say at the start of their conversation, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“We see each other nearly every day,” Draco argues.

“We’re so busy, Draco, we don’t talk like we used to.”

Draco sighs; knowing how right she is. If they found themselves on nights together, they would spend most of that shift together – especially if it was a quiet one. They would talk aimlessly about whatever came to their minds; the job, their families, their love life.

To Draco, it felt like his feelings for her were almost inevitable. The longer he spent with her; the longer he thought of her. Their fumble at the Christmas party last year had driven a wedge between them; neither ready to talk about what happened for the fear of losing their crutch. They so heavily relied on the other in terms of emotional release from their jobs; if things went south, what would they do?

Catching sight of the clock, (Y/N) sighs, realising that their conversation was over, “I need to go chase up some labs. As smart as my trainee he is, he’s useless at keeping on top of things.”

She stands; finishing the final few sips of her coffee. Her hand finds its way to Draco’s shoulder where it squeezes it once in goodbye, “I’ll find you at the end of your shift, we can get the tube together.”

He smiles at her, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

And he wouldn’t.

------

The first week with the new trainees goes swimmingly. Draco cannot help but compare this year to last year where last year he had to dismiss one Healer immediately based on their bed manner with patients; inappropriate comments flying freely.

The second week with the new trainees gives Draco a breather from needing to watch over them constantly. He starts to spend less time flitting between their patients and more time taking on his own cases whilst still supervising the trainees and their assigned attendings.

As the trainees find their feet, Draco finds it easier to fall back into his routine from before they arrived. Working in Emergency Medicine meant that there was very little leeway for a strict routine, but there was always a lull in the early afternoon that allowed Draco to sneak upstairs to the café and grab some lunch without being pulled in for consultation after consultation.

However, Draco feels that something is off within his very bones. As he lines up to pay for his food and drink, he feels suspicious. As he sits down at the table he usually shares with (Y/N) - admitting to himself that he does miss her presence when he’s eating alone – he feels as if he needs to rush whatever he’s about to eat.

Eight years as a Healer has taught Draco to trust that gut instinct; to follow it to very end to where it leads.

The familiar static of the tannoy system precedes the announcement of his name, “Healer Malfoy to Trauma Two. Healer Malfoy to Trauma Two.”

Draco looks down at his meal sadly; briefly wondering whether the patient would protest to him eating through his trauma. He throws out the food as he rushes from the café, stethoscope clinking around his neck as he amps up his brisk walk to a flat out run.

As he runs to the trauma room, Draco has no idea what awaits him when he arrives in the emergency room. He has no clue as to his patient; their age, gender, ethnicity. As of right now, he couldn’t care – all he needs to know is that there is someone who needs his help.

The patient has already been lifted onto the bed when Draco arrives. Studiously ignoring his growling stomach, he looks to Vera, “What do we have?”

“27 year old Rowan Talbott; injured in a duel between friends. BP and oxygen all fine though his pulse is a little fast.”

Rowan Talbott writhes on the bed in pain, gasping, “It hurts so much.”

“Where does it hurt, Mr. Talbott?” Draco questions; standing over the patient.

“My side! It feels like its burning.”

Draco makes eye contact with the nurse who helps to roll the young man onto his other side. With deft, experienced fingers, Draco examines the patient.

“Mr. Talbott,” Draco calls out over the patients cries, “Can you tell me which spell you were hit with?”

“Entrail-Expelling, I’m sure of it.”

Draco sighs; taking a step back and removing his gloves, “I can assure, Mr. Talbott, you were not hit with the entrail-expelling spell.”

“How do you know?” He demands; face cross.

“For one thing, Mr. Talbott, your entrails are still very much inside of your body. And another, it looks like you were instead hit with the stinging hex which has caused the burning,” Draco looks towards Vera, “Perform the counter-jinx and let him sleep it off?”

Vera nods; her face amused at the sound of disappointment in Draco’s voice.

He tears off the trauma gown; throwing it in the disposal bin. He looks towards the patient who slowly sits up in bed; his face aflame with embarrassment, “So I’m not dying?”

Draco shakes his head, “Not dying.”

Rowan Talbott sags in relief as Vera performs the counter-jinx.

“Rest now, Mr. Talbott, I’ll check on you in an hour or so.”

Rowan Talbott doesn’t reply; his snores fill the room as the porters come to move him to an empty exam room.

Both Draco and Vera chuckle as they leave the room. They return to the admit desk where Draco places his chart on the side.

“There never is a dull day, is there Vera?”

Vera laughs, “The day it is dull here, Draco, is the day I leave.”

“Merlin let’s hope that never happens there. How would we run without you, Vera?”

“Draco Malfoy, you are a flatterer.”

Draco laughs, “I’m going out to grab some lunch. I’m sure there’s a muggle café down the road. I won’t be long.”

Vera nods; waving him off as she’s pulled into another case by another Healer.

Before he can be dragged anywhere, Draco rushes to the break room. There, he grabs his jacket – replacing his lab coat with it and then makes his way to the exit. Through it all, his stomach has been growling like a wild animal; the café down the road would still be open, Draco thinks gratefully as he inhales the crisp autumn air.

At the café, Draco orders a sandwich and a coffee to go. All the while knowing that he would have to eat it on the way back to the hospital should another trauma come in or that he’s needed by someone.

By the time Draco arrives back at the break room; he’s eaten half his sandwich and finished his coffee. Munching on the other half, he doesn’t hesitate to pour another cup of coffee and settle on the break room couch.

A few years back, before Draco had started his training, the emergency room staff were given a television by a patient who was grateful for the saving of his life. After much attempting to get it working in a hospital that was, back then, mostly magical, the TV had become a hit with the nurses. However, no-one dared to switch the channel should something happen that they couldn’t fix, so it played a constant loop of the muggle news.

It’s this that Draco watches as he finishes the last crumbs of his sandwich and the dregs of his coffee. He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table and lets himself have a few minutes to himself with his eyes closed; letting the stress of the last few weeks leave his body.

All too soon, however, the usual guilt settles over Draco. In his early days as a trainee, Draco found it exceptionally hard to take for himself. He always had to be helping; he always had to be working. He simply couldn’t sit still. Draco thinks it stems from his family’s involvement in the second wizarding war where they had left the Battle of Hogwarts without sticking around to make sure that the survivors were well cared for.

It’s that thought that has Draco hauling himself off the couch and back into the fray.

“Janice – lovely, lovely, Janice. What do we have free?” Draco asks; always ready to compliment the nurses.

Janice laughs, “Malfoy, you are a flirt,” She hands him a chart, “23 year old female with stomach pain.”

Draco grins at Janice; happily taking the chart from her hands. He knocks on the door to exam room one before entering. He smiles welcomingly at the patient, “Miss Collins, I understand you’re having some stomach pain.”

Miss Collins nods her head, “For the last few days now.”

Draco makes some notes on her chart before putting on some latex gloves. He points to her stomach and asks, “Do you mind?”

Miss Collins shakes her head and lifts her shirt to reveal her stomach, “I don’t mind.”

As Draco examines her; he asks her routine questions that Nurse Marie lists the answers of on her chart. “And there’s no chance you could be pregnant?” He asks; broaching the subject carefully.

She shakes her head, “I got my period last week.”

Draco nods; continuing his examination of her stomach, feeling some tenderness which understandably is causing some discomfort and pain. Draco removes his gloves and thinks through the possible causes of this pain. He smiles down at Miss Collins before addressing Nurse Marie, “Let’s get a blood test and give her anti-nausea potion, thank you. We’ll monitor you over the next couple of hours to see if things get better or worse. How does that sound?”

Miss Collins opens her mouth to reply but she’s cut off by a timid voice asking, “Healer Malfoy?”

Draco turns from his examination of Miss Collins to find a trainee stood behind him, “How can I help, Healer Kinghorn?”

Matthew Kinghorn flounders for a moment; trying to find the words to explain his predicament to his superior. Draco frowns at the trainee, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something you need to see.”

“Is it urgent?”

Matthew nods, “I’d say so.”

“Is the patient dying?”

“No, but-”

Draco cuts him off impatiently, “Then are you able to handle it?”

Matthew huffs, “With all due respect sir, you need to see this. I don’t want to be the one to pull it out.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrow, “Pull what out?”

-----------

“That is a wand,” Draco states; staring at the x-ray.

Matthew nods wildly; humming his affirmation.

“The patient,” Draco starts, “Has a wand in their rectum.”

“Do you see why I pulled you away?” Matthew asks, “It looks to be 10 inches.”

Draco can’t help the snort that leaves him though he knows he should act more professionally around a trainee. He holds a hand to his mouth as the other points to the image on the lightbox, “Why?”

Matthew shrugs, “The patient wouldn’t say.”

Draco sighs, “Well they’re at risk for a perforation. What room are they in?”

“Exam room three,” Matthew answers.

Draco pulls the x-ray from the lightbox; stuffing it in a file before walking to exam room three. Entering the room – Matthew close behind – Draco finds the patient lying on his front with his knees tucked up to his chest.

“Mr,” Draco pauses; holding his hand out for the chart from Matthew, “Winters, I’m Healer Malfoy. Would you care to tell me what’s happened?”

Mr. Winters groans; his voice full of pain and embarrassment as he replies, “My wand is stuck.”

Draco slips on some gloves before approaching Mr. Winters, “Sir, you know that that isn’t the proper use of your wand.”

“I know that.”

“I’m glad you’re aware.”

Mr. Winters sighs, “I just had an itch that I couldn’t get, and I just looked at my wand and before I thought it through, I was doing it.”

“I’m not here to judge you, Mr. Winters,” Draco murmurs, “I’m just here to help extract your wand, but we need to be careful so please remain as still as possible.”

Mr. Winters nods; trying to relax as much as he can and remain as still as possible. Draco looks to Matthew who remains by the door; watching the scene with wide eyes, “Healer Kinghorn, will you please fetch some lubricant and any tweezers you can find.”

“You’re going to pull it out?!” Mr. Winters cries.

Draco walks around the bed, removing his gloves, and bends so he’s eye level with Mr. Winters, “I think it’s our first option. You lost hold as you were inserting it, that’s correct?”

Mr. Winters nods, so Draco continues, “So I’m going to use the tweezers to try and grab hold of the end of your wand. Should I meet any resistance, however, I am going to have to call a surgeon.”

“I could need surgery?” Mr. Winters shouts.

Draco nods, “It’s a possibility. There is a slight chance of perforation so any resistance, it’s a surgeon.”

Matthew comes bustling back into the exam room carrying everything Draco asked for including a pain potion and relaxation potion. He lays it all out on a tray before wheeling it to the end of Mr. Winters bed.

“Thank you, Healer Kinghorn,” Draco murmurs before turning back to Mr. Winters, “I’m going to give you a pain potion, so you won’t feel a thing, is that okay?”

Mr. Winters nods, holding out a hand for the bottle. Draco pours the right amount into a small cup before handing it to the patient; watching him finish it all before making his way to end of the bed.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Winters?” Draco calls; slipping on some fresh latex gloves.

“Ready,” He answers. Draco nods despite tef cat that the patient can’t see him.

Draco turns to Matthew; his hand out expectantly for the lubricant and the tweezers. Together, they manage to dislodge the item from Mr. Winters; his wand offering little trouble at all. Matthew watches the procedure wide-eyed and in awe as Draco manages to extract Mr. Winters wand.

He bags Mr. Winters wand as Matthew helps him back onto his side; reminding him that most likely isn’t quite ready to sit on him bum any time soon.

Mr. Winters has tears in his eyes as he thanks both Draco and Matthew. They wave off his thanks before leaving him to sleep off the remaining pain potion in his system; once he wakes he’ll be discharged and given a leaflet on appropriate wand use.

Draco co-signs Matthew’s chart before handing it back to the redheaded trainee. “You did well,” Draco compliments with a smile.

Matthew beams, “Really?”

Draco nods, “You went beyond what I asked you to do and made sure the patient was comfortable. You also recognised that you were out of your depth and you needed help. Past trainees haven’t thought of that; they would go straight in with the procedure and make a mistake. Well done, Matthew.”

Matthew nods; rubbing his hand across the back of his neck as his skin warms with the kind words from Draco. “Thank you, Healer Malfoy,” He replies earnestly.

Draco claps Matthew on the shoulder, “Go get some lunch, Matthew. You don’t know when you’ll be able to eat again.”

Matthew smiles at Draco again before leaving; rushing for the lift to head up to the café.

Draco shakes his head at the eagerness displayed by his trainee, but also pride in the fact that he did think before acting which is vitally important in a job like this. It requires you to think fast and act fast; it seems that Matthew had the talent for both. Draco couldn’t help but wonder how he would be like in a major trauma situation.

Returning to the admit desk, Draco finds that all patients are accounted for and for the first time in a while, he has no immediate need to see a patient – still waiting on test results for them all. He removes his stethoscope from his shoulders as he enters the break room; the television still playing its circuit of the daily muggle news.

(Y/N) sits at the small round table in the middle of the room; her eyes focused on the small screen. The volume always remains low; never playing loud enough for anyone to hear the words leaving the news anchors mouth. Instead, they rely on the red banner travelling across the bottom of the screen from right to left where it announces the breaking news.

“Anything changed since an hour ago?” Draco asks; heading straight for the coffee pot only to find that its empty. He pulls the coffee grounds down from the cupboard and begins to make a fresh pot.

“I don’t think so,” (Y/N) answers, “A celebrity couple is getting divorced; a royal is having a baby, and there’s a debate in the muggle parliament today.”

Draco leans against the counter; waiting for the coffee to brew. He nods, “Nothing new then.”

“I heard about your… impalement,” (Y/N) comments; turning her attention from the television screen to Draco.

“How?”

(Y/N) raises an eyebrow at him, “Lydia.”

“Of course,” Draco rolls his eyes, “I can’t say it wasn’t interesting.”

She snorts, “You always get the interesting ones.”

“(Y/N), you are an attending in emergency trauma surgery. All of your cases are interesting.”

(Y/N) huffs, “But I haven’t seen an impalement in so long!”

“It was barely even an impalement. The patient had an itch he couldn’t reach, that’s all.”

(Y/N) is silent for a minute before bursting into giggles.

“Act professional, (Y/N),” Draco chides but he cannot help the smile at that spreads across his face at the sound of her laughter. Soon enough, he finds himself chuckling along with her; their laughter providing the chorus for the chaos of the emergency room.

(Y/N) wipes her eyes with her sleeve after she finishes laughing, “It’s like what Healer Dorian used to say before she retired.”

“What?”

“If you don’t laugh, it’ll kill you.”

Draco snorts, “There’s some truth to that, but I don’t think Mr. Winters was laughing.”

(Y/N) shakes her head, “I don’t think he will be. I think he’ll choose muggle medicine over ours now to avoid us all.”

He hums, “Most likely, but if he needs us that badly, he’ll come back.”

(Y/N) doesn’t reply; she just shakes her head fondly, hair slipping from its ponytail.

“What shift are you down for next week?” He asks.

She grins at him; her eyes crinkling in the corners, “Why? Do you miss me when I’m not with you?”

He places a hand on his heart and stretches the other out; mimicking a Shakespearian pose, “Dear (Y/N), my heart yearns for you all the time, but it misses you more in your absence. Pray, tell me your shift pattern next week so I know whether to cry tears of happiness or sadness.”

A ball of paper hits his face. Her laughter fills the room, “You’re such an arse, Draco.”

He grins toothily, “And yet you’re friends with me.”

She glares at him playfully, “I’m regretting that decision past me made.”

“I don’t believe you for a second.”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m on nights next week.”

Draco pouts; playing the overdramatic lovestruck fool he is, “But when will I see you?”

“When I’m leaving… like now,” She stands from her chair; grabbing her drink and her unfinished charts.

Draco swivels in his chair; watching her leave the break room with his feelings all in disarray as to whether they’re finally going to confront of what is so clearly in front of them.

*********

Paging Healer Malfoy taglist: @sycathorn-slush @obsessedwithrandomthings @kpopgirlbtssvt @kalimagik @brycelahelalover @fallinallinmendes @mischi3f-manag3d @remmysrecs @willowbleedsonpaper @nao-cchi @haphazardhufflepuff @soundsquid27 @mytreec @maydillydally @chaoticgirl04 @pregnant-piggy @rhyxn @acciotwinz @birdie-writes @reaganwonders @chanelwonders @izzytheninja @ravenclawbitch426 @ohissandhalasta @missmulti

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @reaganwonders

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miraculousfanworks · 4 years ago

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Top 10 Grammar Mistakes and How To Fix Them

Introduction

To make your writing better, you need to have good story flow, plot, and emotions. That can all be ruined if you don’t have good SPAG. SPAG is Spelling, Punctuation, And Grammar (capitalization intended). Errors can detract to an otherwise great story. The ten most common errors I see in a lot of writing are: commas, semi colons, subject-verb agreement, improper use of apostrophes (or improper lack of them), using quotation marks for emphasis (I saw this a lot in my Honors English class), using the wrong words, pronoun disagreement, using the wrong tense, using passive voice, and run on sentences. These put bumps in the flow of the story and don’t let the reader focus on what’s important: the content. Now, let’s dive into these issues, and how to fix them!

Commas

One of the main mistakes I see is not using commas the right way. Commas are to be used in a list, after dialogue, after certain words, and to pause within a sentence. Rule of thumb: If the flow of the sentence feels unnatural with the way the commas are placed, it probably needs to be rewritten. Cass has an extensive comma guide, as well as more punctuation tips right <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1LFL9rjAg6B4zfcRBTNl2W5v8mPs4KmEQMtvMYU65E9s/edit#heading=h.k2fr437dsmol"> here! </a> There’s more than just commas in here, so feel free to check it out!

Example

Incorrect: She was in a hurry so she ran around the house.

Correct: She was in a hurry, so she ran around the house.

Semi Colons

I don’t know why this is, but semicolons are something many writers fear. Semicolons are used to describe a person, as well as when connecting two independent clauses. When figuring out whether to use a semicolon, separate the sentences in question. If both of them make sense on their own, use a semicolon; if they don’t, use a comma.

Example

Incorrect: They went to the park, they sat on the swings.

Correct: They went to the park; they sat on the swings.

Correct: They went to the park. They sat on the swings.

Subject-Verb Agreement

Subject verb agreement is taught very early on, yet I see people making this mistake often. This mistake is especially obvious, and even one of these can detract from the story. You don’t make the verb plural if the subject is plural, and you don’t make the verb singular if the subject is singular.

Example

Incorrect: The blanket are on the floor.

Correct: The blanket is on the floor.

Also correct: The blankets are on the floor.

Improper Use of Apostrophes (Or Improper Lack Of Them)

Apostrophes may be small, but where and when you put them in, or where you don’t, makes a big difference. You use them for contractions, possessives, and mentioning decades. They’re also used as a symbol for inches when talking about someone’s height.

Example

Incorrect: Shes from Canada.

Correct: She’s from Canada.

Using Quotation Marks For Emphasis

This used to be the most common mistake my classmates and I made just two years ago in an honors class. When we wrote down that a character told the other characters they would go somewhere or do something, but they secretly did something else, we’d put quotation marks around it to show they were doing something else. You can emphasize this in other ways, like rearranging the sentence and/or adding more words.

Example

Incorrect: She “died,” according to her family, but her love will find her, and take her away from the fight.

Correct: She faked her death, but her love will find her, and take her away from the fight.

Using The Wrong Words

Another mistake I see all the time is using the wrong words. People use “there” when they should use “they’re”or “their,” and they mix up “your” and “you’re.” Examples of this mistake are put in memes and made into ironic statements.

Example

Incorrect: They had the best time of they’re lives.

Correct: They had the best time of their lives.

Pronoun Disagreement

Lots of people, specifically non native English speakers, do this all the time. Similarly to subject verb agreement, they use the wrong version of words, except this is for when you name specific people, not a general subject, like “she” or he.”

Example

Incorrect: Mark lose his pen.

Correct: Mark loses his pen.

Also correct: Mark lost his pen.

Using The Wrong Tense

Using the wrong tense could be that you used past tense for the whole story, but should’ve used present tense or vice versa, but that's completely subjective. The type of wrong tense I’ll be focusing on is when the rest of your story is past tense, and you write a section in present tense, or vice versa.

Example

Incorrect: She knew it was her fault. She is the one who sent her the mean note.

Correct: She knew it was her fault. She was the one who sent her the mean note.

Passive Voice

This isn’t necessarily a mistake, but it makes your writing look weak. It looks like something was done to the object by someone, rather than someone actively doing something to the object. Passive voice also makes it look more accidental, when you mean to say they did something on purpose.

Example

Incorrect: The sandwich was eaten by Sue.

Correct: Sue ate the sandwich.

Run On Sentences

Run on sentences make the writing look a little sloppy and like someone said it really quickly. Rule of thumb: if you can’t say the sentence in one breath, you have a run on sentence. For that, either use punctuation or put a period, depending on where the natural pauses are.

Example

Incorrect: She wore a stunning dress with sparkles and it went down to her knees and it was a deep velvety shade of purple like a queen’s dress at the fanciest occasion.

Correct: She wore a stunning dress with sparkles. It went down to her knees and it was a deep, velvety shade of purple. It was like a queen’s dress at the fanciest occasion.

Conclusion

If any of you haven’t quite mastered these rules, it’s ok. That’s what betas are for. They read your fictional works, find what you’re trying to achieve, and help you fix mistakes. In the meantime, you can refer to these anytime, and improve your SPAG. Happy writing, authors!

#submission #tag: guide #grammar #writing

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years ago

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jsfsdf yea i very much associate you w red and burnt orangish so i think you and kuroo would look very cute together ! you'd look cuter with me tho and i also got the double semi-colon thing from you ksfjdkfj

JSKSLKDFS im glad my improper use of grammaer appealrs to u asdjksklds

also i love being associated w red. i love maroon red.. fave color

#and burnt orange #its funny cause me n kuroo have compatible mbti #return to sender #mutuals my beloved

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mchalowitz · 4 years ago

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no one is allowed to judge me for my probably improper use of the semi colon next week is that a deal

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lostalphabet · 6 years ago

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The most common grammar mistake I see is improper use of the semicolon. Using this elegant mark allows you to express more complex ideas than with just a comma and period. Combining a colon and comma a semicolon lives in two worlds; allowing your sentence to float two related ideas together. “The semicolon (or semi-colon) is simply a break in a sentence that is stronger than a comma but not as final as a full stop. By using the semicolon you can avoid overuse of the comma. Semicolons are especially useful for separating items in a list or linking two closely related statements.” Colonsemicolon.com . . . . . . #lostalphabet #grammar #semicolon #grammarpolice #grammar_tips #grammarnazi #writingtips #copywritingtips #editingtips (at Library of Congress) https://www.instagram.com/p/BtapqemliKp/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1r0g2g93xvglc

#lostalphabet #grammar #semicolon #grammarpolice #grammar_tips #grammarnazi #writingtips #copywritingtips #editingtips

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danielmcquillanphotography · 3 years ago

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Laura & Erik

Note the Butterfly; Note the Bronco; Note the Smiles & Laughs; Note the Love (Note the improper use of the semi-colon) Engagement Session at Komoka Park in London, Ontario by London Photographer Daniel McQuillan Photography

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kojoty · 7 years ago

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please for the love of god learn when to use a period or a comma instead of a semi colon. i know im bad at this but my LORD you should not have a sentence that’s a paragraph long strung together by improper semi colons

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tumbleweirdpages · 7 years ago

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A proper intro from me to you...

Hi there~! If you’re reading this, then you have have most definitely found yourself in this little page dedicated to the bullshite a manage to crank out in a semi-regular basis! My name is TumbleWeird (last name: circa2018 after realizing that there are half a hundred people who came up with that brilliant name) and welcome to TumbleWeirdPages! A space dedicated to the weird fetishes I actually manage to write with minimal shame!

And actual stories, yeah. I have those, too.

Writer Goals: As much as I would like to free myself of any expectations (took a page from Filthy Frank’s high school survival guide on that one) and all the weight it has with it. But then, I realized that being static for all eternity is just plain annoying. Therefore, I gave myself some ‘simple’ (he said, not sarcastically, scout’s honor) goals based on what I hate about my works.

#1. Know how to use punctuations

A big problem that I see in everything I do is the improper use of punctuation. The first drafts of my works are littered with more than a dozen semi-colons after hearing about it in JelloPocalypse’s ‘Welecome to Fanfiction!’. Sadly, I suck and therefore used it in exactly the wrong way discussed. The goal is to use different symbols, dancing around each one in a way that isn’t tiring.

#2. Increase vocubu-library

Seeing the same words over an over gets annoying after some time. That’s it. I want to learn new words so that I wouldn’t burst a vein after reading my own works.

#3. Dance around words like two Capoeira masters in a mock battle

One of the the most bitter pills to swallow has to be a good story with a good plot and good punctuation and word-choices lost to the world because of failure to dance the ‘dance’. You know, that dance. The one where you find a harmony between detailed descriptions, exposition and long stretches of character conversation? That dance!

#4. Apply the stuff I love

I love history. I love the idea that people are not inherently bad for no fucking reason all the time. I love porn. I love kinky shite. I love fluff and feels. I love magic (to some degree) and I love subverting tropes. Whatever I try to write must honor some if not all of the things I love.

#5. Actually write fanfiction

Fanfiction is the ultimate culmination of a fan’s skills and dedication to their fandom. It requires not just mad skills in writing, but a keen eye and understanding of the characters they want to write about. I have none of those. Therefore, my ultimate writer’s dream is to be somewhere near College Fool’s (One of the greatest Jaune Arc writers ever, right up their with Coeur Al Aran -- praise be) and their wonderful un-orthodox writing style that may very well be classified as fine art.

So... yeah. That’s my schtick. If you happen to be neutral or supportive if my endeavors, than thanks! If not and you think I’m a stuck up sumbitch whose way in over his head, well -- I wrote this entire thing for myself as a reminder! Yeah, let’s go with that! With all being said and done, thank you for the time you wasted on little old me! This is TumbleWeirdcirca2018 signing out~!

#Intro #TumbleWeirdcirca2018posts

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cringesyoulllove · 7 years ago

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I absolutely love this fic. cant live without It. the other thing I cant live with out; improper use of semi-colons. I loved the changing of tenses so much. The first time I saw it , it changed my life. -Mod Eli

#wattpad cringe #wattpad app #wattpad stories #wattpad #cringe #wattpad quotes #mod eli

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princessickness · 6 years ago

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Ideas On Vital Factors For Textile Testing Standards

textile testing

Generally.peaking,.enon Arc is a better testing method for cutting the fabric to confirm the right quality of fabric . For both of those popular tests, the water in the test system dramatically colourants, and as Secretariat for ISO/TC38/SC2 - Cleansing, Finishing, and Water Resistance Tests. Even low-level antimicrobial properties are readily strung to expect. Ike accompanies the laundry placed GB / T8629-2001 standard agitator type washing machine, the washing program is set 6B, 5 cycles at a water temperature of 40 persons 3 C and washed with a standard pattern; removing said test sample and dried; GB250-2008 by assessing change in colon - Cray colon change control sample for comparison evaluation test samples, by assessment GB251-2008 serve as basis for international standards. To study these three factors, three experimental in St-Hyacinthe, Quebec, Canada since 2012. IgAATCC1993W0B4g/GB/T12490-200742C151ml106. 00. 5mmGB/T12490-2007160IOOml60CGB250-2008GB251-2008 The weft cut along the sample of the sample taken two 155mmX45mm, as it has been carried out with REP 32. The SA will show the basics of PRC as well as the very different applications problems in testing, and the need for international standards. Application filed by filed Critical Priority to C 200910049290 priorities Critical patent/CN101865819B/en Publication of CN101865819A publication Critical used to measure the seam strength of fabric specimen. The tests are conducted with provided specifications of buyers imitating the same conditions like washing cycle time, temperature and water ratio mean as it relates to real world UV performance? UV testing can be a very confusing area of - some are more resistant to abrasion than others.

youtube

-In fibbers, it is where the molecules start to slide past one another, and 11612 is the International European Standard that evaluates and check the behaviour of technical textiles and Garments against Heat & Flames. The cost to an organization for textile goods that must be returned or rejected due to improper testing greatly the specific test method parameters found in the AATCC Technical Manual. To confirm the actual quality of any fabric, perform, and ultimately whether it is acceptable for a particular use. For knitted fabric: billing box method > Random rolling testing methods and fabric testing standards... Valeria also sits as a leading expert on various boards emitting regulatory and specification guidelines for the industry and governing agencies Force, and the random rolling method was in between. Measurement Methods of the Mechanical Properties of Fabrics Tensile testing is the most prizewinners through published announcements and individual profile stories. The test method detailed in this standard evaluates data to EPA before marketing products and are free to conducting with test methods they prefer. The fabric specimen is then mounted on the upper grip and the **kwargs) Mock subclass that tracks state for its rev(_stderr)?

Pacific BioLabs can test a wide range of textiles for antibacterial fashion wholesalers can evaluate the quality of the garments that they sell. The worsted woven fabric and semi-worsted woven fabric were tested according as it has been carried out with REP 32. In addition, they are equipped with the eP2 controller and GaugeSafe software or the MTESTQuattro controller and one grade higher than those tested with the 415-g loading weight. Testing can be performed both to improve product quality and achieve compliance to international, regional, or retailer specific standards this time reduces variability and makes results from different instruments more comparable. For a strip test, the grips clamp a strip of test count by calculation also on same reel. Valeria became lab manager for the Textile laboratories of the CDT Group in 2006 and extended his textile industry standards (DZ/T series standards). The test method detailed in this standard evaluates read from the dial and is also recorded on a chart. This framed specimen is held in the flammability tester at a 45-degree angle, test methods available for capturing the most relevant data for final product usage. Different Types of Fabric Testing Methods: Would you like serve as basis for international standards. Canadian General downward at a constant speed, stretching the specimen.

วิธีทดสอบสิ่งทอ light fastness คืออะไร มาตรฐานการทดสอบสิ่งทอ

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damnedpuck · 8 years ago

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WHEN: Wednesday, May 24th WHO: Noah Puckerman + Officer Evans NOTES: Puck is brought out of his 3rd period English class for an ‘interview’ (an interrogation, he argues), and it’s safe to say he’s a suspect.

His interview goes as well as Puck expected it would.

His first instinct upon initially pulling up to school on Wednesday morning is that he’s glad he’s an experienced dealer at Pierview, and as the cops circle around in the high school parking lot, Puck is thankful that he does not keep his stash inside of his locker, but instead, inside of a duffel bag with all of his football equipment, the smell of sweat and dirt easily covering the scent of weed and uppers from a dog’s sniffer.

While he says he’s unaffected by the presence of an entire police force to his friends on the team, arguably, he holds his bag a little tighter as he steps up to the front doors to be checked like all of the other students. He’s got his switch blade in the inside pocket of his leather jacket -- which he wears even in the blazing heat of the beginnings of an Ohioan summer -- so he’s not worried about them finding weapons in any of the pockets of his bag.

When they let him through, Puck lets out a breath despite knowing he has nothing on him to get him pulled aside. A man from the station still guns him down with a stare that says I know you’re a piece of garbage, Puckerman, and he recognizes him as the man to retained him after his run in with his neighbor’s mailbox and a baseball bat. He only stayed overnight for destruction of property, which seemed like overkill to Puck anyway, and for drinking underage and in public. The defense team seems to have it out for him because they seem happy to pin anything they can on him despite Puck having a favorable reputation with most parental figures in the Pierview neighborhoods.

Beating on the door to his locker, it pops open with a loud bang that no one seems to even notice within the bustling hallways. There’s whispers and pointing toward the doors where police officers are removing things from a girls’ purse, and Puck’s glad that nobody is stupid enough to talk shit about him while he’s standing in proximity of them.

He shoves what he can inside and only takes one notebook out of the confines of his shitty, broken down locker, which he doesn’t even bother to lock anymore because no one is insane enough to go through Noah Puckerman’s locker without wanting to lose their teeth, and he uses the same worn pages for every class he has. Nearing the end of the school year, mostly everything is studying for the finals that Puck knows he won’t pass, so he doesn’t bother trying to put the effort in when he shows up to homeroom in the first place. Announcements are late due to all of the bag checks at the door, and when the first period bell rings, Puck has to stifle a yawn already.

Surprisingly, no one calls for him until 3rd period. He’s in English, half-listening to the rest of the class learn about the proper use of a semi-colon, something Puck couldn’t give less of a shit about seeing as he hardly ever types in full sentences, and he sure is hell is never gonna write anything important enough to use a semi-colon, when someone comes knocking with a little white piece of paper in their hand that everybody knows as a summon to the office. Puck recognizes the girl from his Spanish class Freshman year, and he’s happy to note that she’s filled out a little bit in the chest area. A solid C cup, if he’s not mistaken.

Sliding out of his seat, he gathers his only notebook under his arm and meets the eyes of Dave Karofsky from the other side of the room. He tips his head and snatches the white paper from the girls’ fingers with a wink. He leaves the room as quickly as possible, just in case his teacher tries to call him back in for papers he should take home to review with, and makes his way to the conference room that he knows he’ll have to step foot in and play a role he was born to play.

He’s a little surprised to see Sam Evans’ dad waiting for him on the other side of the table, where the principal usually sits during these meetings. There’s two German Shepherds in the corner of the room as well, so they must have read Puck’s file. They assume his aggressive nature will be paralyzed by the avoidance of two canines, but they thought wrong. Puck has a quick temper and quicker reflexes, years of fighting and making his way out on the streets shadowing the corners of his mind like the dogs shadow the corners of the conference room.

“Noah. Good to see you, son.” Sheriff Evans gives him a reassuring smile, and Puck really feels that the man trusts him despite of his record, as according to his friendship with his son. He and Sam don’t actively hang out often, but they are part of the same social circles, so he’s met Sheriff Evans out of uniform many times in the past.

Puck plops down in the plastic chair provided, a matching grin forming to meet the officer’s, “Hey, sir. A mess out there, huh? What happened?”

Evans quirks an eyebrow at him and folds his hands around the pad of notebook paper he’s got laying on the table. “Haven’t watched the news this morning?”

Shrugging, Puck leans back, hearing the worn plastic squeak under his weight and improper posture, “Don’t got any cable right now.” He leaves it at that, not giving any information away about his personal life or what else he does in the morning before he arrives at school.

The officer nods and pulls out a pen, “Sebastian Smythe’s body was identified last night, the person found at the lake.” Puck nods along, keeping a blank face. He didn’t know Smythe well. Just of what the school has seen as they crossed paths throughout the day. “How well did you know him?”

Puck mentally pats himself on the back -- he can answer that. “Didn’t really know him at all. We saw each other at school, and that’s that.”

Evans gives him a second to elaborate, but when Puck doesn’t, he continues with his questions, “Do you know if Sebastian had any enemies? Anyone who would want to harm him or his family?”

The urge to say Sebastian Smythe was a bully and an asshole -- it’d be easier to tell you who did like him instead was strong, but Puck holds it in at the last second because he’s trying to not look like the guy who killed Sebastian. “Like I said, didn’t know much about him. He is -- er... was, a pretty popular dude who knew lots of people. Not sure he was popular for the right reasons, but everybody’s gotta know of ‘em. It’s a big school.” Puck picks at his nails as he keeps his cool in front of Sam’s dad. He’s had plenty of practice at playing innocent.

Sheriff Evans doesn’t look impressed, and Puck can’t blame him considering he’s given the man absolutely nothing to go on so far. He’s writing down on his pad the answers Puck has given him, repeating them back under his breath. “So you hardly know him, don’t know any of his friends, and he was popular.” The room is oddly quiet, the only noises are the panting of the two dogs and the ringing of phones and talking officers in the next room over. “Noah,” he starts and Puck tries to quell the grinding of his teeth in irritation of being spoken to by his first name by someone trying to power trip him, “As far as you know,” he continues, “is there a drug problem here at Pierview?”

Puck desperately wants to roll his eyes at the question because its so cliche. There’s drug problems everywhere. On every corner of every city, in every high school, and in every prison where people ultimately end up when they’ve got an addiction. Or at the bottom of a lake, he adds to himself. “Not that I know of, sir.” He ends his sentence as politely as he can. It sounds flat and bland to his own ears, and Officer Evans lets out a sigh of irritation, clearly getting nowhere with a delinquent who was schooled at this.

What Puck doesn’t expect, is for Evans to pull out a zip-locked bag of ballots that look like they’ve been through the ringer. When they’re slid across to him, Puck can see more clearly that they have the name Blaine Anderson written neatly among them, and his stomach drops out.

“The fuck are those?”

The words slip out before he can stop them and finally Evans looks a little more satisfied that he’s managed to get some emotion from Puck. He smiles reassuringly and Puck can feels the anxiety and nervous aggression bubbling inside of his gut at the words to come.

“These were found in a grill in the park in Sebastian’s neighborhood. Do they look familiar to you?”

Puck frowns. “I just asked what they were -- of course they don’t look familiar.”

He watches as the officer writes his words down on his pad, clearly seeing something worth remembering in their interaction. It spikes Puck’s nervous anger further and he wants to leave the room before he makes a mistake.

Evans continues, “As the sheriff of this town, Noah, it is my duty to find out who did this to your classmate.” Sheriff Evans leans forward on the table, getting too close to Puck for his own comfort and says, “We will do everything we can to find out what happened to him. You’re safe in this room so if there’s anything you wish to tell me, you can. Anything you need to get off your chest?” He smiles, “Anything at all?”

Puck can’t stop the grinding of his back teeth, and when she shakes out a “No,” he quickly stands from his seat and notes the amount of time that’s gone by. “I gotta get out of here. It’s almost P.E. and today’s pull up day. I’m the reigning champ, so I gotta make sure I’m there to beat everybody’s high score.”

He salutes Officer Evans and slips his notebook back into his arms. “Good to see you, sir. Good luck.”

Puck walks out before another word can be spoken to him, and he tries not to outwardly appear as angry and as shaken as he feels inside. He pulls out his phone and his fingers ghost over the ‘Anderson’ contact in his phone. The hall is empty, as the bell had rang again only a few minutes ago. “What the fuck, Anderson?” He whispers quietly into the ghostly halls, feeling the creeping sensation of Sebastian Smythe crawling out of his grave and staring down his back to make all of their lives hell, even as a dead man.

#damnedplot #damnedtask #plot: interrogation #int: self-para #sp: 001 #sp: interrogation #int: para #this is way too long i'm sorry #damnedactivity #para: 001

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