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ultimatetornshipper · 4 years ago

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Steam

A lot of facts could be seen as only opinions. A lot of facts could be seen as flexible depending on one's experiences and perspectives. Facts could change and facts could be more than just the part of it that you're made aware of.

Blossom knew this.

But there was one simple fact that would remain the same for all of eternity.

Blossom Utonium hated Brick Jojo.

And he hated her.

Nothing, NOTHING would change this simple fact. They were natural enemies, opposites made to challenge and contradict one another.

It was simple.

Key word being was.

It's easier to hate and despise one another when your siblings weren't all friends and dragging the two of you along every chance they got.

It's easier to hate one another when your morals are directly clashing on a weekly basis.

Yeah, they still didn't exactly agree on a lot of moral questions but the boys aren't really evil anymore either.

But when the boys stole something the girls would fight them, take it, arrest them, they'd escape and everyone would let bygones be bygones.

By everyone she meant the blues and the greens.

She was pretty sure Brick was the only one who actively wanted to still do that stuff and Boomer and Butch just followed his lead. Or maybe Mojo still had something on them. She couldn't be sure, but the point was that they still committed crimes and that was illegal so it was their job to stop them.

And she wasn't stupid, she knew full well that she and Brick were the only ones who weren't pulling their punches and treating it all like a game.

So like she said. It was simple.

Until her sisters decided to make it complicated by befriending their rivals.

Blossom despised complicated social situations.

In any other context she could handle complicated. Fights? Sure. Science? She adored it. Books? What other kind is there?

But in group and friend dynamics? It annoyed her more than yarn catching on her nail, more than nails on a chalkboard, more than a dirty, uncleanable chalkbo-

It annoyed her a lot.

Why? Because it created situations like the one she was in right now.

Where her sisters and their counterparts were play fighting and joking around while she and Brick maimed eachother.

And it was always followed by a lecture by Bubbles on how she was too hard on him and Buttercup telling her to chill out while Brick and his stupid smug smirk would mock her and wouldn't leave her alone and how his red hair would be messy afterwads and half out of his ponytail and wisps falling into his face surrounding his gorge-

No.

She flew up to dodge a kick and landed behind him, pushing him forward so that he lost his balance.

She was fighting him right now. She couldn't think about his eyes or his pink lips forming a smug little grin and how she just wanted to kiss that stupid little smile off of his dumb face-

She froze in shock.

Kiss Brick?

Since when had that been an option?

She felt him get a hit in her stomach and her bottom collided with the ground.

She shook herself out of it. Later. She could analise... whatever this was... later.

She started getting up but suddenly he was straddling her waist and pinning her hands down above her head.

She stared at him in silence for a few seconds, because he was really close now and she could see the light freckles dancing across his nose up close and-

Bad Blossom! Now is not the time! You hate him, you despise him, he is the enemy! Stop checking out the guy you're fighting!

He smirked down at her victoriously, "At a loss for words, eh, Pinky?"

She felt him lower his guard and loosen his grip and quicker than lightning she flew out beneath him.

What in the name of Einstein was wrong with her?

She flew quickly and as high as the tallest building in Townsville, then she stopped and turned around and the handsome bastard was right there in front of her-

Wait a minute- handsome?!

Blossom needed to lie down.

Sadly, he seemed determined to keep this going.

They traded blows and each time he said something she didn't reply.

She was too busy freaking out about the fact that she had not only wanted to kiss him but also mentally referred to him as handsome and what the actual frickty frack?!

"What's wrong Bow Pink? You're awfully quiet today, afraid me and my brothers are finally gonna beat you and your sheep?" Brick taunted.

Blossom's brain with all its genius level intellect then decided that the only way to deal with whatever was happening to her heart was to stuff it in a jar and bury it deep, deep down and pretend it wasn't real.

She hated him.

He hated her.

That was a fact that couldn't and wouldn't ever change.

So she did what she did best.

She riled up Brick Jojo.

"I'm not the one here with sheep, Rock," she said mockingly.

He narrowed his eyes, throwing a punch that she quickly dodged, "Oh now she speaks?"

"You finally said something worth replying to. Though I must say, Rick, I'm disappointed, I can't believe you've been reduced to using puns," she replied, kicking his side and pulling away quick enough that he couldn't grab her leg.

"It's Brick and you know it, and don't pretend you don't pun, Pinky, we both know that's a lie," he said with a small growl in his voice. Dodging her once more.

"I still think your insult was just some good old projecting. Clearly if one of us have sheep it's you. My sisters fight of their own violation," she taunted, smirking. He grabbed her and they wrestled midair, each one gaining and then losing the upperhand.

Suddenly they pulled apart, flying in circles, eyeing one another. They were both panting, clearly out of breath.

Anyone could sense the electricity crackling through the air from a mile away. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that her siblings and their counterparts have stopped fighting and were now eyeing their leaders wearily.

She'd deal with it later.

She turned her full attention back to the man in front of her as the silence grew sharper.

His shirt had small tears in places, his hair was all over the place and he sported a few new injuries. She was certain she was in a similar state.

"They choose to fight," he broke the silence, glaring at her, "I don't force them to do anything they don't want to. I don't control them,"

The sharp, delicate silence fell apart and she felt her temper flare. The electricity turned to fire and she launched herself at him and felt her eyes heat up.

"The only reason for that is the fact that you're too busy being controlled," she screamed.

She could almost taste his fury at her words and their fight went to a whole new level.

Neither of them held back anything as they shot lazerbeams and went for one another unlike ever before.

She pushed him against a building, trapping him. And for a moment they locked gazes and time froze. The anger and frustration and denied attraction flared between them like a wild electric cable, their faces only inches apart.

"Are either of us really in control, Pinky? Or are we all just the result of someone else's choices?" he whispered harshly as they gazed into one another's eyes.

She felt her guard lower only for a split second before he grabbed her and pushed her against the building.

"But then again," he said quietly, and she felt his breath mingle with her own, "maybe if we want control we need to take it ourselves,"

He closed the distance between them and she only felt his fire approach for a second before she reacted with her ice.

So that's the was he wanted to play this?

She deepend the kiss and poured all her hatred and love and frustration and attraction into it.

She bundled up his shirt in her hands and felt his own get tangled in her hair. She faintly heard his hat fall to the ground not too far below.

Yet she couldn't care less as she kissed him the way she'd never allowed herself to kiss anyone before for fear of their life.

But she could do this with him because he could counter her perfectly.

He really was her opposite, huh?

Then she registered the fact that the air around them was slightly more humid than before.

She ignored it though, because this was the best kiss she'd had in... well, ever, and she was not going to pull away because as soon as she did that it would be over and it wouldn't happen again because now that they knew that it didn't-

Blossom felt him pull her closer and pushed all her previous thoughts away. She'd worry later, for now she just allowed herself to disappear into the kiss.

A few minutes later she became aware of a rather large amount of water hitting her.

They pulled away from one another in search of the source.

She quickly noticed that Brick was in a similar state as her and they turned to find their siblings staring at them.

Bubbles was holding the hosepipe that was likely the source of the water and Buttercup handed Butch 20 dollars.

"Really?" Her black haired sister asked, "You couldn't have waited just three more days for your murder make out session?"

"Our what?" she asked while Brick replied with a simple, "Fuck you,"

"Actually, Brick, you've got the wrong sister, I'm Buttercup, the one you wanna fuck is in your arms, her name is Blossom," Buttercup replied slowly, in a mocking tone of voice.

The red heads turned to look at each other and when they noticed their proximity, they jumped away from one another like the other had the plague.

Brick turned to them, "I was trying to kill her!"

And Blossom followed suit, "And I was just defending myself!"

"Nothing else!" They said at the same time.

Bubbles rolled her eyes and Boomer smirked. Butch waved them away, "Don't worry we have a completely different bet for when you two will acknowledge and accept your feelings for one another,"

"Yeah, and I can still win it!" Buttercup agreed.

"Feelings? What feelings?!" Blossom screamed, "Bubbles, tell Buttercup she's being ridiculous,"

Bubbles rised an unimpressed eyebrow, "Bloss, you're both redder than Brick's cap,"

"And you just spent 10 minutes making out so much that literal steam started surrounding you," Boomer snickered.

No matter how much Blossom or Brick denied it, no one in all of Townsville believed their denial after that day.

Buttercup won the second bet.

Approximately 3 months after what was dubbed their first Murder Makeout session the two finally confessed to one another.

Those 3 months are another story entirely.

But it was this that proved to Blossom that truly no fact was concrete, facts changed and facts expanded. Facts were flexible depending on your experience and perspectives.

And the fact was that while once upon a time, maybe Blossom did hate Brick and maybe Brick did hate Blossom, things changed.

But that mutual hatred melted away into something new, something beautiful, something flexible.

Something a little bit like steam.

Authors note:

Inspired by this post

I don't plan to continue this but if someone wants to continue or expand this idea or world like tag me I'd love to read it

Thanks to @maltrashdump for coming up with this idea, I love it, hope u enjoy my version of it

Also sorry for not putting a read more thing I'm on mobile atm

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juliandev0rak · 3 years ago

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Into The Wild

Chapter 1: Daisy

✧ Into The Wild Series ✧ playlist ✧

words: 2468

Willa Clary gets out of her car and shuts the door with a dull slam, sending up a cloud of dust and scaring off a lizard who had been sunning on a nearby rock. She surveys her surroundings with a grin, taking in the trees, the small clearing of wooden cabins, and the shiny blue lake in the distance. She pulls a faded brochure from her pocket and reads the words she’s read about a thousand times over the last few months:

“Camp Vesuvia: eight weeks of summer fun!”

The photograph on the front shows the same view she’s looking at, but the scene in front of her is far more beautiful than the photo. The trees are more green, the sky more blue, and the cabins around her look even more charming. In the summer heat the air seems to shimmer, giving everything a slightly magical quality. Willa decides that she loves the place already.

When Asra, her best friend and old college roommate, told her about the job opening at the summer camp he works at, she’d jumped at the chance. Asra has told her plenty of stories about what goes on during a summer at Camp Vesuvia and with every story she found herself wanting to be a part of it. He told her about the other people who work there and how fun it is to get to know all of the campers, he told stories of roasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories around the fire. He’d also mentioned how beautiful the scenery is, but his description hadn’t done it justice.

All of Asra’s stories brought Willa back to her own childhood, spent in a tiny rural town where exploring nature was pretty much the only activity available. She’d moved away to the big city for college, where she’d hoped to find her way. But after graduating she’d found herself with a degree, but no job, and an aching feeling that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

And since Willa loves nature and children (and also really needed a job) she figured a job at a summer camp would be a perfect fit for her. So she’d packed her bags and driven out into the middle of nowhere, her home for the next eight weeks.

The door of the cabin closest to her opens with the sound of a bell, and Willa’s eyes are drawn to the tall woman standing in the doorway. Her height draws attention, as does her brightly colored purple hair. Willa takes in the woman’s perfectly styled outfit and heeled boots, she doesn’t look like she belongs in the middle of the woods, but something about her seems very welcoming.

“Welcome, Willa, we’ve been expecting you!” The woman calls, beckoning her over with a perfectly manicured hand.

“Hi! You must be Nadia?” Willa asks, moving to shake the camp director’s already outstretched hand.

“Yes I am, if you should require anything over the course of the summer I can be found here in the office. I’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival, Asra has told me quite a bit about you,” Nadia smiles, shutting the door behind them as Willa follows her inside.

The front room of the cabin is small but well decorated. A large polished wood desk takes up the majority of the room and bookshelves and filing cabinets cover most of the remaining wall space. Nadia settles into the chair behind the desk and Willa takes the empty seat in front of it. She looks around as Nadia searches for a file, taking in the stylish furnishing and decor which looks surprisingly perfect in the wood paneled cabin.

Nadia finds the correct file and riffles through it briefly before pulling out a small stack of paper which she hands to Willa. “I’ll just need your final signature on some of the paperwork and we’ll get you all settled in. We expect the first round of campers tomorrow morning at nine, and things will only get busier after then.”

“How many campers do you expect in total?” Willa asks. She looks through the paperwork quickly as she signs it, standard onboarding and personal information, all as expected.

Nadia frowns slightly at the question and her forehead furrows, portraying a bit of the stress hidden behind her cheerful facade. “We have nearly seventy campers staying for the entire summer, the most we’ve ever had at one time. Which is precisely why I decided to take on more help. We have a small but reliable staff here but I thought it was time for some reinforcements.”

Willa hands over the completed paperwork and watches as Nadia carefully looks it over. “Wow, that’s a lot of kids, but I’m sure we can handle it!”

“That’s the sort of encouraging spirit we need around here,” Nadia smiles. “Asra told me you were an ‘eternal optimist’ and I hoped his description would prove accurate.”

Willa blushes slightly at the compliment and smiles back at Nadia, making a mental note to thank Asra later for his apparently glowing recommendation. “It’s easy to be optimistic in a place as beautiful as this.”

The sound of a bell alerts them as the front door opens and Nadia stands to greet the person entering, “Ah, here’s Asra.”

“Willa!” Asra calls from behind her and WIlla nearly knocks her chair over in her haste to hug him.

“Asra! I’ve missed you!” Willa takes in the familiar appearance of her friend. Asra wears a pair of overalls over a “Camp Vesuvia” shirt. A name tag pinned to one of the straps says his name, written in familiar handwriting and accented with a sparkly smiley face sticker.

“I’m happy you decided to take my advice and come to Camp Vesuvia, you’re going to love it here,” Asra says.

“Yes, I hope that you will, Willa,” Nadia smiles at the two of them before taking her seat again. She points to the wall behind Willa, “Your room key is hanging on that board, it’s the one with the red ribbon. I’ll leave Asra to show you the way. I'm quite busy with last minute preparations, but I hope you’ll find the lodgings comfortable.”

Willa turns to the board, spotting the key hanging all the way at the top. “Thank you, Nadia!” She stands on her tiptoes to reach for the key and Asra laughs, reaching up from behind her. He easily grabs the key and hands it to her, ignoring the annoyed expression on her face.

“Still as short as always,” Asra teases.

“Still as rude as always,” Willa frowns, but she’s too excited to stay mad.

“Let’s get you moved in. Did you bring that scarf you said you’d give me?” Asra heads for the door and Willa follows, laughing at his enthusiasm.

“Yes, and I brought extra yarn so I can make you another if you’d like—” Willa’s words are cut off as the door opens before Asra can get to it. A large figure stands in the doorway, and Willa and Asra step to the side to let him in. He has to duck a little to enter the room, and Willa looks up at him, noticing shoulder length dark hair and a park ranger’s uniform.

Nadia stands to greet him, “Ah, Muriel, excellent timing. I was just going to call you. We’ve had a few bear sightings around camp and I wanted to go over our safety plans, perhaps we can ensure all of the trash receptacles are in working order.”

The man nods in agreement, but his attention moves away from Nadia and over to Willa. When he notices that she’s looking back at him he swiftly looks away, clearing his throat as he takes a step closer to Nadia’s desk and away from Willa. In the near split second when they looked at each other, Willa noticed how bright his eyes were, green like the trees outside. Her eyes stay on him, noting the way his posture slumps a little as if he’s used to being too tall for a space.

“Oh, pardon me for not making introductions sooner. Muriel, this is WIlla, she’s our new counselor and the arts and craft director,” Nadia gestures at Willa, “And Willa, this is Muriel. He’s the park ranger assigned to our area. The ranger station is about a mile from here. if anything goes wrong he’s the first to call.” Nadia gives Muriel a warm smile and he flushes faintly, eyes resolutely staring down at the wooden floors.

“Muriel’s great, he’s the best at roasting marshmallows,” Asra says, finally pulling Willa’s attention away from the man. Asra raises an eyebrow at her in question and Willa looks away, brushing past him to move towards the door.

She turns to glance over her shoulder at Muriel, who still seems to be finding the floorboards exceedingly interesting. “It was nice to meet you, Muriel,” Willa says, giving him a cheery smile. Muriel looks up in surprise and stares at her for a minute before nodding in response. Willa turns to leave, Asra right behind her.

“‘It was nice to meet you, Muriel’” Asra imitates in a sing-song voice that sounds surprisingly accurate to Willa’s. She scoffs and fights the urge to shove his arm as if they were twelve, she sticks her tongue out at him instead— much more mature.

“Clearly he’s attractive, you can’t blame me for staring,” Willa says, rolling her eyes at Asra’s over-eager expression.

“True, I can’t blame you, and like I said— Muriel’s a great guy. He’s a bit shy and doesn’t like to socialize much as you may have noticed, but he’s saved us from quite a few scrapes over the years,” Asra recounts. “He repaired the roof of the main hall after a thunderstorm knocked over a tree last year, and he even put out a fire once when a campfire got out of hand.” “Well, he sounds like quite the man.” Willa hides her smile as she turns to open the trunk of her car. She hauls out a suitcase painted a bright blue color and dotted with daisies, she’d done the art herself one day when she’d run out of canvases and needed something new to paint on. Asra grabs her other bag and shuts the trunk, giving her another smirk.

“Let's get going, I’ll give you a full tour along the way.” Asra hoists her duffle bag over his shoulder as he walks. Willa follows behind, taking in all the sights as he leads the way through Camp Vesuvia.

Asra delivers on his promise of a tour, pointing out everything they pass along the way. “The building we just left is the office, but we all call it ‘the palace’ because Nadia’s the queen around here. Don’t worry though, she’s a benevolent ruler,” he laughs. Nadia seems kind, but she clearly expects the best from everyone and Willa would hate to disappoint her.

They pass the arts and crafts cabin, the main hall where meals are eaten, and each of the cabins for campers. Asra stops in front of a small building next to the main hall, it looks homey and a small puff of smoke comes out of its chimney. A wooden sign by the door is marked with a large pot and a spoon and judging by the delicious smell of bread emanating from the building, this is the kitchen.

“Here’s the kitchen, Portia works here along with Hestion and Selasi. You’ll meet them at dinner. I’m convinced they’re the best cooks in the world, and Selasi’s pumpkin bread is legendary.” For a minute it seems like Asra might go in to look for the aforementioned pumpkin bread, but he turns away from the door and continues on the dirt path forward.

He points to another small cabin to their right, “And here’s the first aid center. Julian is our resident doctor, he’s Portia’s older brother,”

“Ah, I seem to remember someone named Julian from quite a few of your stories,” Willa says, jokingly waggling her eyebrows. Asra grimaces and looks straight ahead, not meeting her eyes.

“Yes well, that was in the past. Those stories are old,” Asra waves a hand as if to show how unimportant those stories were. “Let’s move on, over here is where we store the canoes! Lucio is our recreation director, he’s kind of an asshole but the kids think he’s cool.”

The tour continues on until they reach a larger looking cabin tucked back into the trees. It has a wrap-around porch dotted with comfortable looking chairs and a bright green door. It looks welcoming, and there's a great view of the lake from the front porch. Willa can picture herself out there enjoying a cup of coffee or knitting.

“And here we have our final destination for the day, the counselor's cabin where everyone on staff here lives.” Asra shows her through the comfortable three story cabin, it’s more modern than Willa had expected. She thinks back to the well decorated front office, the palace, and decides that Nadia must be responsible for this cabin’s design as well.

Finally, Asra leads her to a closed door on the second floor and she unlocks it, entering a small but cozy looking bedroom. The walls are painted sky blue and a vase on the dresser has fresh flowers in it, she immediately feels at home. Willa sets her suitcase down by the dresser and flops down on the bed facedown.

“This is going to be so fun!” she squeals, her words slightly muffled by a pillow.

Asra flops down next to her, “You’re going to love it! The camp comes alive when the campers get here, and I bet you’ll be great at teaching art.”

“I hope so, but it’s been a while since I made a friendship bracelet,” Willa laughs, pointing to Asra’s wrist which is bedecked with half a dozen colorful string bracelets.

“Campers made these for me,” he explains proudly, lifting his arm up so Willa can see the bracelets better. “A lot of the same kids come back every year and most of the staffers do too. I think you’ll fit right in, this is going to be the best summer!”

Willa looks out the window next to her bed and catches a glimpse of Nadia and the park ranger, Muriel, out inspecting the grounds. Muriel looks up at the window as if he can sense her gaze and she smiles and waves at him. He doesn’t respond, quickly walking away towards the trees, but Willa thinks she might’ve seen a hint of a smile tug at his lips as he looked at her.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this summer, too,” Willa says, turning back to Asra with a giddy grin. “I can’t wait!”

✧

#here's chapter one!#willa wednesday #willa clary #muriel the arcana #milla #the complete cast of characters is as follows:#willa- camp counselor and director of arts and crafts #muriel- park ranger #nadia- camp director #asra- camp counselor #julian- doctor/ first aid #portia- cook #lucio- recreation director #me- overexcited writer

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patriciasage · 4 years ago

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Title: double trouble

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Pairings: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton, Dani/Aubrey Little (mentioned)

Summary:

Aubrey feels like her heart has crawled up into her windpipe. The flame in her hand flickers erratically. Two copies of Duck stand before them, breathing hard and holding their hands in the air. Ned, pointing the NARF blaster at them both, is attempting to appear confident, but Aubrey can tell he’s panicking.

“Shit, Duck,” Aubrey says, “Why didn’t we think of a code word?”

[posted in full below the break, but you can find me on AO3]

Aubrey is scared shitless, but she won’t admit it.

This abomination isn't like anything they’ve faced. Before, hunting them felt like finding a dangerous animal that had to be put down. This one is intelligent and intentional, and the attacks are personal. Knowing the abomination had taken Dani’s form sends a shiver down Aubrey’s spine.

Eugene had told Duck that he had seen some ‘alien activity’ at Pins & Needles, the bowling and knitting club, so the Pine Guard was sent to investigate.

“You’re not supposed to split the party,” Aubrey whispers.

“But a group of three people cannot investigate two noises at once, Aubrey,” Ned replies, continuing to sweep the staff room with his flashlight. Aubrey is comforted by the flame in her hand as both a light source and a weapon. “Besides, Duck can take care of himself. He has a sword, for goodness sake.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have his powers anymore and he didn’t bring his helmet! I’m worried about him.”

“There’s only the bathrooms left to check and then we shall be reunited. Nothing to fret about, my dear.”

Except, there is something to fret about. A shout echoes through the building, followed by a loud crash. Ned and Aubrey look at each other for a second before sprinting toward the sound. “Duck!” Aubrey calls. A loveseat is overturned in the knitting area and a ball of yarn has made its way halfway down one of the lanes. There’s no sight of their friend.

The phone behind the front counter begins to ring. Before Aubrey can think about answering it, there’s another sound.

A crash followed by some swearing. It’s coming from the area behind the lanes. Ned makes his way to the carpeted path on the edge of the room. Aubrey runs directly down Lane 3, her combat boots skidding slightly on the smooth wood. When she reaches the end of the lane, she doesn’t stop to think before she hits the floor. She propels herself into a slide, feet first, crashing through the bowling pins and the plastic curtain and emerging in the back room. Ned flings open the door, out of breath, just after Aubrey gets to her feet. They take in a strange and frightening sight.

Duck is on the floor and he is grappling with someone who is also wearing a ranger uniform. The person underneath clips him with a punch to the side of the head and dislodges him. It’s dim in this back room but Aubrey can see his opponent’s rugged features, now. It’s Duck.

Duck reaches amongst some bowling pins and retrieves Beacon. He swings it down with ferocity and Aubrey lets out a startled shout as it moves toward her friend’s face. But the attack is intercepted by another Beacon. The two swords wrap around each other like snakes, spitting insults.

“False! Ephemeral!” One of them snarls.

“Pathetic duplication! You cannot compare to Beacon!” The other shouts.

“Fuck,” Aubrey says.

Ned steps forward in the hallway behind the pin-dispensing machines. Aubrey clambers down next to him as he draws the NARF blaster. “Halt, Ducks!” Ned commands. “Step away!”

Both Ducks look up from their tangled position on the floor. The one on top attempts to yank Beacon back, but the two swords are linked together. The force of their sword tug-of-war causes both weapons, still entangled, to be flung in the air. One of the Ducks reaches for Beacon, but Ned takes a threatening step forward. “Hey!” They both freeze. “Stand up and kick the swords to me.”

Aubrey feels like her heart has crawled up into her windpipe. The flame in her hand flickers erratically. Two copies of her friend stand before them, breathing hard and holding their hands in the air. Ned is attempting to appear confident, but Aubrey can tell he’s panicking. “Shit, Duck,” Aubrey says, “Why didn’t we think of a code word?”

They speak at the same time: “I told you!” / “No shit, Aubrey.”

“Alright. Everybody, remain calm,” Ned says authoritatively. He levels the NARF blaster between them. “Tell me something that only Duck would know.” It’s incredibly cliché. Aubrey resists the urge to roll her eyes.

The two Ducks speak at once, again: “Uh, that we hooked up?” / “Like how we slept together eight years ago?”

Aubrey’s jaw drops and she looks over at Ned, scandalized. Ned adjusts his grip on his weapon, flustered and embarrassed.

Aubrey hits him in the arm with her non-flaming hand. “Ned, you idiot, the Bom-Bom looked through all your memories when you were in that hotel!”

“Right,” Ned mumbles, blushing. He clears his throat and attempts to look intimidating again. “Tell us something only Aubrey would know!” Aubrey groans in frustration.

Duck One, on the left, speaks up. “We don’t have time for this, y’all. The more we fuck around, the more time it has to figure out how to get past us.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Ned shouts.

“We can’t let it get away again, Ned!” Duck One reiterates. He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “Shoot us both.”

“What!?” Duck Two protests.

Aubrey sees Ned make a decision. Her heart races, but she’s frozen to the spot.

Ned shoots the Duck on the right.

Except his flesh doesn’t come apart in scattered orbs of light. He doesn’t scream like a malfunctioning computer. Red blood, and lots of it, pours out of the wound in his thigh. Duck collapses with a very human yell. “Fuck! Ned!”

The abomination takes advantage of this moment of distraction to create a rift. It steps through, smiling with Duck’s face. The rift closes and Ned’s second foam bullet embeds itself into the wall.

Aubrey and Ned run to their fallen friend. Aubrey feels sick at the sight of his pants darkening with blood. Duck lifts his shaking hands off of the wound for a second before pressing them down again, hard. “It’s not – fuck! – Doesn’t look like you hit an artery. But holy shit, Ned! I could never take a bullet, but I really can’t take a bullet right now, man; I’m just a regular guy! Fuck!”

“I’m so sorry, Duck. I thought it would be very improbable for the abomination to volunteer to be shot.”

“And you thought I would volunteer to be shot!? Fuck, man, you should have done what it said and shot us both. This is worst-case scenario shit right here. Dammit!”

“Yes. I’m –” Ned looks absolutely miserable, but he steels himself and turns to Aubrey, who has stalled next to the growing puddle of blood on the carpet. “Aubrey, go to the front desk and call an ambulance. Bring back the first aid kit under the counter.” He takes off his jacket and places it on Duck’s thigh, replacing the ranger’s hands with his own.

“How do you know it’s under the counter?”

“It’s always under the count– go, Aubrey!”

“Right!” She takes off running, this time through the door and along the side wall. She jumps over the counter and frantically scans over the bowling shoes before finding the landline on the wall.

The phone rings just as her fingers are about to touch it.

Aubrey answers, “H-hello?”

“The ambulance will take too long. I’ll be there soon.”

The voice is familiar, often heard through a telephone. “Indrid! Wait…was that you calling, before?”

“Yes, Aubrey,” he replies a little harshly. “I was going to tell you not to shoot my boyfriend.”

Her first instinct is to protest, correct him that it was Ned who pulled the trigger. Instead, she says, “I’m sorry.”

Indrid sighs and the sound pushes against the receiver. “No. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I’ll be there soon.” The dial tone rings in her ears.

About five minutes later, the bell above the front door rings. Aubrey and Ned, crouched over their injured friend in the back of the alley, share a meaningful look. Duck is slumped against the wall, pale and bleeding through the bandages. They’re ready to protect him.

There’s a deep fluttering of wings and the scraping of claws on the wood flooring. Then…nothing. It’s almost impossible to hear footsteps on carpet. Aubrey raises a fist of flame and Ned readiest the NARF blaster at the door.

Ironically, they’re relieved to see a monster step through. He’s so tall he has to crouch under the doorframe, wings folded close to his body. His huge red eyes glow in the dim room, flickering in Aubrey’s light. A pair of clawed hands raise in response to Ned and Aubrey’s defensive stance, the other pair holding onto a white box. He chitters in a way that Aubrey assumes is meant to be calming. All she can focus on is the movement of his sharp, terrifying mandibles.

Duck speaks up from behind them, his voice weak. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Hello, Duck.” Indrid reaches out a clawed, dark hand and hands Ned another first aid kit. He must have brought this one from his Winnebago or from another room in the building. “You need to add more bandages – tighter – if he’s going to make it to the hospital.”

Ned nods and gets to work. Aubrey wonders absentmindedly why he’s so calm about this. The moment she saw the bullet go into Duck’s leg, she just about passed out.

Indrid turns to Aubrey and tilts his head to the side in a swift, insectoid motion. Aubrey has only seen him in his Sylph form once – the time they asked for his glasses at the Winnebago. If she didn’t know he was a friend, she would be absolutely terrified right now. As it were, she’s still a little unsettled by his proximity. He towers over her, dark and frightening.

Indrid seems to notice her reaction. Shoulders hunched a little, he draws a pair of glasses from a pouch on his waist (like a moth fanny pack, Aubrey thinks). When he puts them on, he becomes the pale, tall, slightly disheveled man she’s familiar with. He’s wearing an old sweater of Duck’s, emblazoned with one of The Smiths’ album covers. Indrid looks a little uncomfortable. Aubrey realizes with a jolt of guilt that it’s because of her.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’m just not, you know, used to seeing you as the Mothman. You can take your glasses off if you want!”

“It’s alright, I understand,” Indrid replies. He fiddles with the large lenses and shivers a little. He keeps his disguise on. Aubrey feels bad for making him feel self-conscious. Empathetically, she thinks of how it would feel for people to look at her and act scared or unsettled. Just because he’s a giant, frightening moth doesn’t mean she should make him feel bad about himself.

Before Aubrey can make an attempt at a better apology, Ned speaks up. “Won’t you be spotted transporting him to the emergency room?”

Indrid’s head tilts back and he freezes for a moment, evaluating potential futures. He returns to the present with a sigh. “He’s going to pass out before we get there.” His hands clench in frustration. “I can’t carry him in my human form.” Indrid turns to Duck. “Sorry, Duck, I’m going to have to leave you on the sidewalk outside of the hospital and call in from a payphone. Too many questions.”

Duck manages a weak shrug and grimaces. “Well, shit. Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Indrid glances over at Aubrey before taking off his glasses again. Aubrey makes sure to keep her face neutral as the Mothman appears in front of her once more. Ned scrambles out of the way. Indrid kneels and his claws dig into the carpet. When he stands up, he has Duck cradled gently in his top set of arms, the other two providing support. Duck is a big guy, but he looks almost small surrounded protectively by Indrid’s wings.

Aubrey thinks about how most people would find Dani scary in her Sylph form, but all Aubrey sees is the woman she cares about, the woman she would do anything for. Indrid must be like that for Duck. Even though the Mothman’s transformation is significantly more intense than Dani’s, this is his authentic self. As the four of them make their way out of the back room and past the bowling lanes, Aubrey can’t help but notice the comfort the two take in each other. Duck buries his fingers in some chest feathers while Indrid’s free hand gently strokes his hair. It’s kind of…cute.

Ned opens the front door to the bowling alley and peers around the parking lot. “Coast is clear,” he says, holding the door open for everyone to step through.

Aubrey turns to Indrid. “Take care of him.”

“I will,” Indrid replies, then takes off into the sky with a powerful beat of his wings.

Aubrey and Ned watch until Indrid’s form disappears into the night sky. Ned sighs and Aubrey looks over at him. He looks like he’s about to crumble from guilt. He’s much bigger and taller than her, so all she can do is place a comforting hand on his arm.

“Come on, baby driver, let’s hit the road.”

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mercurryblack · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 4: Sardion

As LLAC prepares for their first day on the job, Headmaster Lionheart pays the team a visit.

❃❃❃

“Come on, already! They said ‘bright and early’!”

The next morning had dawned, and Team LLAC had decided to start it early— involuntarily, for the most part. Lillian had woken up the rest of her team just as the first rays of sun had come across the horizon, before the skies had even started to turn blue.

Amaryllis was in the dorm’s bathroom combing her red mess of bed-head out of her eyes, while Cait stood by her side at the sink, slowly brushing their teeth. Hattie, the worst morning person of the team, was blearily attempting to open a can of flash-brewed coffee, still clad in her pajamas and lopsided nightcap. She would have met with more success had she actually been holding the aluminum container upright; instead, she continued to scrabble around the bottom of the can, entirely unaware of the conspicuous lack of a pop-tab in her drowsy state.

Lillian, on the other hand, had already thrown on her outfit and was leaning against the doorframe of the dorm’s entrance by her elbow, lazily tapping her finger to her skull as she waited on her teammates. Before she could badger them again, however, her train of thought was interrupted by three knocks on the door.

“Who could be calling on us THIS early?” Amaryllis asked bemusedly, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

“I’ll have a look.” Lillian said, turning around to open the door.

Her eyes widened when she saw who the visitor was. Standing on the other side of the door was Leonardo Lionheart, the headmaster of Haven Academy. He was in full uniform and appeared wakeful— evidently, he had risen well before LLAC. Seeing him in the mirror, Cait and Amaryllis stopped their personal ministrations and turned around.

Hattie, unaware in her morning delirium, continued to hopelessly fiddle with the can.

“Oh! And just where might you be preparing to go, Miss Armilde?” he inquired in a pleasant tone, his lion tail gently swaying from side to side. “The breakfast hall won’t open until an hour from now.”

“Uh… Uhm…” Lillian hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Admittedly, while she knew that they would have had to meet soon regarding the assignment, she was quite surprised that he had come down to speak to them personally. She had assumed he would have sooner called LLAC to his own office.

Lionheart gently chortled. “A rhetorical question, Miss Armilde. I’m already well aware where you’re going.” The headmaster tilted his head, glancing over Lillian’s shoulder through the doorway. “May I come in for a moment?”

“Gllmmbbhhllbb.” Cait attempted to reply from across the room, but their mouth was still full of toothpaste.

“…Please do, Professor.” Lillian said, opening the door wider for him as she stepped to the side.

“Thank you.” Lionheart walked in and gently sat down on the foot of the bed closest to the door. “Good morning, you four. I’m very sorry to drop by so early in the morning. I know you’re supposed to have your rest today, but I was approached yesterday evening by Sardion Sarikaya and Rudyard Millard, and they proposed something to me that concerned you.”

Finally alerted by the headmaster’s distinct voice, Hattie rubbed her eyes as she tried to wake herself. “Th— gghhhh— th’ mrrdrr caze?” she asked, her voice slurred.

“Precisely, Miss Lazuli,” Lionheart continued as he clasped his hands in front of him, resting his elbows on his knees. “You all have been officially recommended to aid in a confidential criminal case that the Mistral Police are handling.” He paused to draw in a long breath, as if contemplating his decision. “Now, I’m not usually the one to let my students go on dangerous missions like this before they graduate, but Sardion and Rudyard made some strong arguments on your behalf— especially so for the latter. And given that, along with his reputation at Haven… well, I have decided to make an exception in this case for your team.”

“You’re saying…?” Lillian asked hopefully.

Lionheart nodded pensively. “I’m here to hear it come from yourselves that you want to undertake this mission. However, before you answer, I will ask you to remember that a large part of a Huntsman’s life is comprised of uncertainty. I don’t want to cause you any undue alarm, but there is the chance that you may not come back from this.”

His eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly. “I know that you four are well-regarded here at the Academy, but the world outside the Kingdoms can be unpredictably harsh. Trust is not an easy thing to build, and it is even harder to maintain.”

“Believe me when I say that I speak from experience— Humans and Faunus alike can be just as bad, if not worse, than the Creatures of Grimm.” His expression turned melancholic, and he let out a long breath, as if the statement brought up certain memories best left forgotten.

The four of them fell quiet, unsure of how to respond. It was true that they’d never considered what an official mission would be like— Lillian was the only one with prior experience, having helped Rudyard over the past summer with a Village Security mission, and even that had only been fighting a few low-level Grimm. It was a comfort to know he’d be at their side this time around, but if trained killers were involved…

Lillian was the first of them to speak up, taking it as her duty as a leader to do so. “Headmaster, we’re more than ready to help Detective Yuen—” She began.

Lionheart raised a hand to halt her response. “That may be so, Miss Armilde. But are you prepared?” he asked. “After all, you’ll be graduating next year. Why not just wait to go on a mission like this until then, as qualified Huntresses?” he continued, though not for the sake of argument.

Lillian hesitated for a moment before answering. “…That’s true, Professor. But Rudyard Millard is like a father to me, and I know how much his teammates meant to him. I can’t let this pass me by, and neither can you.” She turned to the rest of her team, who all nodded in affirmation. “Plus… we’re already in our third year, and I doubt we’re going to learn how to handle missions like these any other way. Sure, there’s danger, but we’ve got two of Mistral’s best at our sides. We can do this. Not alone, but as a team.”

Cait puffed their chest out in an exaggerated manner. “And even then, I think our skills speak for ourselves. I’ve seen the odds that those underground Vytal bookies were placing on us, and they were very flattering indeed.” They chimed in, grinning.

Amaryllis gave a curt, confident nod. “Plus, as far as leaders go… well, we could do a whole lot worse, but there’s nobody else I’d rather have than my sister.” She said.

“Yeah!” Hattie exclaimed. “We’ll get to the bottom of this case without dying for our country!”

Chuckling gently, Lionheart felt a small feeling of pride swelling inside him. Lillian was right— with a case like this, would receive training from reality, not just from the academy textbook that described a Huntsman’s life.

In a way, seeing LLAC prepare stirred up vague recollections of SYBR, back in the halcyon days when he had served as Haven faculty, long before taking up the role of headmaster.

Before…

He recognized he hadn’t responded to her. “Ah, good answer, Miss Armilde. And fine spirit, you four.” He said, standing up from the foot of the bed. “Now, I suggest you all eat your fill when the cafeteria opens. You’ll need it for today.”

“Thank you for letting us go, Professor Lionheart.” Lillian remarked.

The headmaster reciprocated with a smile. “I wish you good fortune, Miss Armilde. Make Haven proud.” Lionheart waved goodbye before heading back down the hall.

Lillian gave a wave back, before seeing him out and beginning to close the door. Just as she had her hand on the doorknob, however, something caught the corner of her eye and she looked out once more to see Lionheart.

From what she could see as he turned the bend in the hall, his head was bent in sorrow, and his expression was falling.

She quietly assumed it was related to the news of SYBR, and gently closed the door.

***

After spending a full night in her office, Detective Yuen had finally finished the corkboard full of the potential clues related to the killings of Yaara Dailan and Berilo Gaspar. Red yarns adorned the board as they hung onto pins and thumbtacks of varying colors; connecting each point but hardly bringing forth a clear answer.

Yuen was good at her job— damn good, in her own opinion, but she’d never encountered a case quite like this. She was used to her cases unfolding themselves with questions and answers through investigation, but there wasn’t a single witness to question nor an item out of place at either scene. Plenty of questions, no answers whatsoever.

She was about to take a sip of her third coffee for the day when Sardion opened the door and made his way inside.

“Detective. Good morning.” he greeted.

Yuen quickly began to fix her uniform and hair before greeting him, in a haphazard attempt at professionalism. “Uh, good morning, Sir Sarikaya. Sorry about the mess, I’ve been working on the board.”

“S’ fine.” He replied. “Are you okay? If you didn’t get enough sleep last night, it might affect your day.” Sardion worried.

“Fine and dandy, Sir, thank you for asking. I managed to get a bit of sleep last night.” What she chose not to mention was that ‘a bit’ was little more than a half-hour power nap. Nevertheless, it was all she felt she needed for the day ahead.

“Have you made any advances in the case since yesterday?” inquired Sardion. While he was better off than Yuen, he hadn’t had much sleep either. He had lain awake, with the terrible thought of how his friends died echoing in his head. Yet he had not succumbed to despair— he could grieve later. Here and now, he had to be a leader to Rudyard and LLAC both.

“So far, not so much. I got a call last night from the coroner’s lab— the autopsy results came back. They confirmed the burn marks on Yaara were from some sort of unrecognized chemical, they said a ‘caustic peptide’. On the other hand, Berilo only had the slash wound, no burns.”

Yuen tapped a group of several photographs on the corkboard— closeups of the wounds the two had suffered. Sardion felt his breath hitch as he brought himself to look at the photos; it was horrible to imagine it, but seeing what had killed his teammates was ten times worse.

“What I find unusual about it is how anyone could enter Yaara’s home. All the possible entryways were closed, no signs of forced entry or tampering. There weren’t any fingerprints inside or outside the house except for her own.” Yuen continued.

“How about Berilo?” Sardion asked.

“His case was a forced entry. Whoever did it kicked the door right off its hinges, so they must have reached him quickly, since he was in the living room. We found a few bits of dirt that must’ve come from the killer’s footwear, but no prints.”

Sardion kept his hand rested on his chin, looking closely at other pictures of the crime scene. He didn’t see anything unusual either, but he knew that was only the case in the pictures. It would be a lot different when he got there.

The sound of the office door opening took his attention off the corkboard— Rudyard had just arrived. Sardion noticed that the man looked more like his usual self; the initial anger and pain appeared to have faded from his eyes.

“Hey, Rudyard… uh, feeling any better?” Sardion spoke cautiously, unsure how his teammate would respond.

The Huntsman nodded. “A bit. I had some time to process my thoughts after we spoke to Lionheart.” Slowly shifting into a chair beside Sardion, he continued, “I’m sorry that I acted the way I did yesterday. Right now, all that matters is justice for our teammates.”

Sardion gave him a soft clap on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Rudd. I wasn’t far from doing the same myself.” Turning back to Yuen, he asked, “Can you continue with the plan, Detective?”

Yuen nodded. “Well, as I was saying, there were new reports given to me by the autopsy lab. If you would look at the board I made over there, there are pictures of Yaara’s burn marks and the bloodstain analysis from Berilo’s home.” she said, pointing Rudyard to the corkboard where Sardion was looking.

“For now, we should go to the two crime scenes and give them a once-over. Maybe we’ll see something that the first investigators didn’t. The kids can take Berilo’s house, we’ll look over Yaara’s.” she continued. “We’ll be heading out in a few minutes. I just have to finish up some reports. You gentlemen can grab some food from the canteen downstairs. Also, aren’t we waiting for your proteges, Sir Rudyard?”

The mere mention of the word ‘proteges’ triggered Rudyard’s mind to go back to what had happened yesterday. He felt ashamed at his rash decision-making, spurred on in an irrational, emotional moment.

What the hell was I thinking, roping them into this so abruptly? He thought to himself

“Actually, it’s just—ah, never mind. They’ll be here soon. We talked to Lionheart last night, and he said he’d catch them before they left.” answered Rudyard.

It was too late to change his mind now, as he knew how much Lillian looked up to him, and that was enough to know that she wasn’t going to accept another change of plans.

He’d have to make it up to her for this— to the lot of them, really.

#team llac #team llac fic #lillian armilde #amaryllis armilde #cait miya #harriet lazuli #leonardo lionheart #agave yuen #team sybr #sardion sarikaya #rudyard millard #fanfic #fan fiction #rwby fan fiction #rwby oc #rwbyoc #rwby

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sushiandstarlight · 4 years ago

Text

Cookies: Chapter 18

This chapter contains today’s prompt “hope.” (Sort of.)

Previous Story: Of All The Beds In All The Hotels In All The World

Chapters 1-3 / Chapter 4 / Chapters 5 & 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17

Read this chapter on AO3

Rating G- Light Teen

There was something going on with Aziraphale, but Crowley couldn't pin down what that something was. He got more withdrawn and jumpy as the day went on. Over dinner he managed to fumble the gravy boat and spill it across the table. Gladys saved that with a quick clean up and having plenty more where that came from. He knocked Crowley's wine glass into his lap which meant he'd had to go back upstairs and change. That also wasn't all that big of a deal. Neither was the fact that they kept bumping elbows awkwardly or the fact that, other than that, Aziraphale hadn't touched him at all over dinner. Though, it made him realize that over the last few months there was rarely a time when they weren't in contact of some kind.

The biggest worry of all had been when the angel had finished his own slice of pie and Crowley surreptitiously slid him his slice. Aziraphale had thanked him with a smile and then proceeded to pick at it with his fork, but not actually eat it. In all the times Crowley had known him, all the years of watching him enjoy his food (and Crowley's,) he had never seen him too worked up to eat a dessert. A cold ball of tension was building in his own stomach. He wanted to get Aziraphale alone and figure out what was wrong, but there wasn't time for that right now. So, he watched him.

They all retired to the sun room, sitting around the cheerfully glowing tree with another glass of wine. Aziraphale and Crowley, as they normally did, took the loveseat. Crowley watched him and gulped his own wine. His worry was not decreasing, but he was starting to feel a little fuzzy around the edges. The ring in his pocket felt large and hot even in it's tiny little box. He hadn't been nervous about it all day, not really, but now with Aziraphale acting so strangely he wondered if this was a good idea.

“Okay, boys,” Gladys ambled over to the tree and picked up the two large, lumpy packages and handed one to each of them, “these are from me and Edie. She picked out the designs and I made them.”

“Group effort,” Edie nodded, sipping her wine to hide her grin. It didn't work, Crowley saw it.

Crowley tore into his package while watching Aziraphale carefully dismantle his out of the corner of his eye. The sweater he lifted from the paper actually wasn't that bad as far as ugly Christmas sweaters went: it was black with a red collar and edging on the sleeves and bottom and in between was strewn with green and white stars. They twinkled in the light, the yarn being run through with sparkly threads. Crowley dutifully pulled it on over his own shirt, tugging it down and turning to the angel beside him.

“How's it look, then?”

“Oh, very festive.”

“Fits you just right, dear,” Gladys smiled at him and if it was a little mischievous around the edges he ignored that, “do you like it?”

“I'm warmer already, yeah I like it.”

Eyes turned to Aziraphale as he lifted his from the wrapping paper. She had had no qualms with making his sweater as hideous as she wanted: it was red with white trim and the center of the chest and belly was covered in a giant Christmas tree festuned with little ornaments and bells. The sweater actually jingled when he shook it. But, Aziraphale looked genuinely pleased with the gift. He pulled it on even with all the layers he was currently wearing and wiggled happily, making the bells jingle.

“I love it!” he stood and jingled over to Gladys and hugged her and then did the same with Edie, “No one's ever knitted me a Christmas sweater before... and I've been around a long time. I will treasure it.” Gladys looked a little taken aback with his generous praise, but she didn't say anything. Aziraphale jingled back over to Crowley.

“What do you think?”

Crowley choked.

“What? It's festive!”

“It's just...”

“What?” The angel's hands were on his hips. His eyes told Crowley he better say something nice or else.

“You're the angel at the top of a tree, is all,” Crowley couldn't contain his giggles any longer. Gladys and Edie joined in, laughing. After looking down at the sweater and then over at Crowley, Aziraphale laughed, too. It smoothed out some of the worry that had lined his face all afternoon and evening. The knot in Crowley's stomach loosened a little.

Aziraphale picked up the other gifts on his way back to the sofa where he sat a little closer to Crowley this time. He passed the flat rectangle to Crowley and then popped open his tin. Inside were little ginger cookies, topped with sugar. He thanked the ladies again for his gift and nibbled one while watching Crowley expectantly.

Crowley tore open the package and found a small, leather-bound journal. Inside were all the recipes for the cookies they had made over his stay. He had been trying to remember every bit of them so he could try baking them again later for Aziraphale, but it had been a rush job and he knew it was impossible to recall all the proper measurements. He opened the book and touched the lettering.

“You hand wrote them all,” he swallowed past the lump in his throat, touching the curly letters, “how did you have the time?”

“You can make the time for such things. There are some other things in there, too, like some recipes for scones. I thought you might want them, too.”

Crowley clutched the recipe book to his chest and stood, crossing the room and kissing her cheek.

“Thank you, I really do love it.”

“I'm glad, dear,” Gladys wagged a finger at him, “you be careful not to get it all grimy with sugar and butter!”

“I wouldn't dare. This is a priceless gift.”

When Crowley returned to the loveseat it was to find Aziraphale holding out the remaining tiny box for him, a strange look of nerves and hope on his face.

“Now, um,” Aziraphale handed it to him as he got closer and Crowley set his book down on the arm of the loveseat, “I want you to unwrap it, but I'll open it. You sit.”

Crowley sat and, in deference to Aziraphale's careful wrapping, he took his time untying the ribbon and unwrapped the box before giving it a little shake. It didn't rattle. He handed it back to Aziraphale. Only, in that time the Angel had knelt in front of him. He had a sudden, sinking feeling. Aziraphale opened the box and inside, nestled in grey velvet was a ring: it was a wide, black band that ended at the top shaped like a feather curled around a gleaming faceted black diamond. Crowley looked from the ring in Aziraphale's hand to the angel's face, completely flabbergasted.

“I... I had it all planned out. What I was going to say. It was going to be poetic and heartfelt, but I fear I'm too nervous for any of that... But, you know I love you, darling. And, I want to spend the rest of my days showing you just how much.”

There were a lot of things Crowley could have said to this proposal. There were a lot of things Crowley should have said to this proposal. In the coming years, he would make up for what he actually said:

“No way...”

Time slowed down around him in that moment. Not in the actual, reality-changing kind of way that he had done to avert the apocalypse. More like how time stops when you've made an awful terrible mistake and only realize it a moment after you've done it and now you have to live through every nanosecond of your mistake hitting home.

Aziraphale's face went through several shifts of emotion while Crowley watched, his tongue heavy in his mouth: shock, confusion, dismay, and then sadness. Crowley's eyes then shifted over Aziraphale's head, taking in Edie's face in her hands and shocked expression along with Gladys making strangling motions with her hands.

And then time reasserted itself at its natural speed. Aziraphale was clutching the box, now closed, to his chest and he wasn't looking at Crowley anymore.

“That's not what I meant! Angel, that's not what I meant!” Crowley was on his own knees, clutching the angel's chin and making him look at him, “I'll have you. You understand? I'll have you until this universe is dust and atoms and something else is here. And, by G-Sa- anyone!- if we're still here after that in some form, I'll still love you then, too.”

“So,” Aziraphale chuckled damply, eyes still wide and shining, “That's a yes then?”

“Yes, love,” Crowley kissed him, “It's a yes.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed in deeply and let it out slowly, “Oh, you rather frightened me.”

“I'm so sorry. It's just... I had hoped to... Well, you kind of stole my thunder.”

“How do you mean?”

Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out his own little box. Aziraphale gasped, hand flying to his lips.

“We didn't.”

“Yeah, you idiots both did.” It was Gladys. Thankfully, this time when Crowley looked at her, she was smiling instead of threatening his life.

“You knew!” Crowley was incredulous, “You knew this whole time. He told you, too.”

“I'm afraid I have a confession to make,” Aziraphale stole his attention again, “I asked for Gladys' help with this. I... I wanted to do it here because this is where we started down this path. And she was more than happy to help.”

“But, the orphans...”

“Oh, they were real. Happy circumstance. Er, well,” Aziraphale coughed, “I mean, it's not happy that they're orphans. But she was going to bake for them either way. It was, ah, a convenient excuse.”

“Knew it was over the top.”

“So, can I see it?”

“See what?”

“My ring?”

“Oh,” Crowley looked down at the box in his hands, “Yeah, of course.” He opened it, revealing a golden band that curled like a serpent around an exquisitely clear diamond surrounded by tiny opals.

“My, it's beautiful.”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course I do,” Aziraphale wiggled his fingers, “put it on?” Crowley slipped it on his finger. The ring looked like it had always belonged there and didn't that just make his heart flutter. Crowley offered him his hand and Aziraphale opened his tiny box back up, slipping the band on his finger. They both marveled at their own rings and then smiled stupidly at one another.

“Maybe we should get up off the floor,” Crowley laughed, slithering back up onto the couch and helping Aziraphale up beside him. He twines his fingers through Aziraphale's and squeezed his hand, “is this what's had you fretting all day?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Yes,” they all answered in unison. Crowley mock glared at Gladys and Edie who suddenly found the Christmas tree the most interesting thing in the world.

“It's always been you, Angel,” Crowley cradled his cheek in his hand, “since the moment on the wall when you defied god herself to help the first humans. I've never had eyes for anyone else.”

Aziraphale, absurdly in Crowley's mind, looked like he might burst into tears again so he pulled him close and kissed him deeply, delighting in the soft moan he got in response.

“There was no answer,” Crowley pulled back and pressed his forehead to Aziraphale's, “that I would give you other than 'yes.'”

“Except the one you gave me was 'no way.'” Aziraphale was smirking at him.

“I'm never going to live this down, am I?”

“Not if we survive the end of the universe and live amongst the dust and atoms.”

“Bastard.”

“You love me,” Aziraphale sing-songed.

“I could take it back.”

“You won't.”

Crowley grunted, pulling back and looking around. Gladys and Edie had made a sneaky exit while they were in their own little world.

“Let's go upstairs, fiancé.” Aziraphale stood and offered his hand, lights from the tree bouncing off the ring on his finger. Crowley took his hand and followed him. Back inside their suite, Aziraphale pressed him into the door, pulling his arms over his head. The feel of the cold engagement ring pressed against his wrist hand him rocking into the angel as he was kissed breathless. They stumbled together towards the bed, but stopped short when they saw there was something on it.

A basket full of bath goodies. Salts, scrubs, soaps, lotions and body oils all in vanilla and sandalwood- something they would both like. Attached to it was a note in curly writing:

“Santa sees all and he wanted to bring you coal for your naughtiness, but we talked him into a bath set instead. Enjoy the tub, boys. Happy engagement! Love, Gladys and Edie”

“I'm not sure what we did to deserve them,” Aziraphale sighed happily.

“I'm not sure what we did to deserve them as punishment,” Crowley grumbled.

“You don't actually mind the attention.”

“Don't tell them that.”

“I won't if you keep me busy enough. I'm feeling a little bored right now... Maybe a little girl-talk, some gossip,” Aziraphale made for the door but Crowley grabbed his wrist.

“How about a massage instead,” he held up the little bottle of oil.

“Hmm,” Aziraphale drew close again, “What was saying? I'm afraid I forgot.”

Chapter 19 is now up!

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #star light-reads #30 days of prompts #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2020 #christmas fluff #fluff

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cosplayinamerica · 5 years ago

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SUNLIT RIDDLE

I first learned about cosplay back in 2001 when I saw a beautiful Cloud crossplay. My brain lit up, I pointed excitedly, and shouted, “That! I want that!” Back then both the internet and cosplay as we know it today were in their infancy. The common construction methods we take for granted now were prohibitively expensive. Molding and casting were within the realm of trade professionals only. I learned how to sew the old fashioned way: my grandmother taught me quilting and my mother taught me clothing. But I had to teach myself a lot more once I had exhausted my mother and grandmother’s realm of practical sewing knowledge. I’d developed roots in the practical and grew into the fantastic. None of my costumes are built like something found in a theater. They’re all clothing.

I feel like the early 2000’s were a huge changing point in cosplay. What started as papier-mâché turned to fiberglass resin and to EVA foam as materials became more available. I was on the cutting edge of cosplay construction before life forced me into a half-decade hiatus. When I returned, things that were once outside of our financial reach were now commonplace. I can’t tell you how much I wanted a 3D printer back in 2008. Within just a decade, there are now affordable desktop models. Laser Cutters? Sublimation? All right here. It’s made that unattainable level of craftmastery available. For those who can’t afford the machines, there are commissioners who can do that for you. The way cosplay has developed as a hobby and business is astounding.

The skills I learned in cosplay, garment construction through building skit props, helped me get my current job. I am now a custom lettering artist – I put mascots on cheerleading uniforms and athletic wear. I learned how to vector while working on a background for a Soul Eater skit. Cosplay in general helped me refine my ability to read patterns and understand how sewing works. And, in turn, my job has further reinforced the skills I already have. I have a better understanding of pattern construction and fabric types. I’ve always had to modify patterns – something my mom taught me to do – but I’ve progressed to drafting up my own patterns from measurements based on historic garments.

My long time friends asked me to join their Adventure Zone group as Taako. It was a challenge, considering there are no official character designs. I had to go off the descriptions within the podcast, which were basically just the existence of items. Fact: Taako has a hat, a wand, a couple of spell books, etc. Beyond that, there was little detail.

The challenge was to create a silhouette that’s readable with or without key items. Taako’s signature item is an umbrella known as the Umbra Staff. The only description we receive within the entirety of the podcast is that it’s utterly normal looking. Considering that it is found next to a skeleton in a red robe, I felt the color needed to be red. However, since this item was found on a corpse in a cave, it was not bound to Taako’s personal style. In fact, I wanted it to be as separate from him as possible.

I put on my researching hat. I looked up fanart of Taako, elves, wizards, fantasy garb, Final Fantasy garb, historic garb; I listened to the source material; I listened to other McElroy podcasts; I discussed options with my team and other friends. I came across the “official” Cut and Sew Taako pattern, but I wanted a Final Fantasy vibe to this since it’s heavily referenced in the podcast.

In the final design, I kept the blouse and pauldron concept from Cut and Sew, but I changed the pauldron base to a slightly modified Evil Ted’s Vampire Hunter (because Yoshitaka Amano did the art for both Vampire Hunter D and Final Fantasy). I used Reconstructing History’s 1770’s-1790s Fall-Front Breeches pattern because I wanted something that would come to my knee and show off the Black Mage striped stockings. Keeping with the Amano Final Fantasy look, I made a sash to match the stockings, then layered with what we affectionately call my “fantasy fanny pack”.

The hat was my crowning achievement. I knew that there were ways of making big, dramatic hats – Kentucky Derby, the Royal Family, Old Hollywood glamour – but I found little in the way of tutorials. It reminded me a lot of the old days when cosplay research was accessible only for professionals in the industry. I deconstructed a witch’s hat from Party City to see how it was made, then reverse engineered it from there. The flowers in the hat were fun to collect. I wanted to keep with Taako’s culinary backstory, so all the flowers are edible – roses, chamomile, lavender, chives, and borage. I started trying to stitch them into place, but I soon started to just pin them into the brim. I’m pretty sure that’s how flower arrangements are supposed to be done, anyway. I’m still trying to figure out how to attach my artichoke.

I designed the pauldron to be a fabric with stripes and trim that had little triangles in it to continue with the Amano Final Fantasy feel. I attempted a “corset” technique where yarn is used instead of steel for boning. That worked perfectly and left a subtle stripe on the pauldron. There was no trim out there that fit what I wanted, so I built a loom and did some simple inkle weaving. I’m not skilled enough at weaving to make little triangles as originally planned, but I could do small stripes. I had enough materials to trim the top of the pauldron only, so I purchased black tassels for the bottom edge – inspired by Final Fantasy XIV’s newly announced Blue Mage’s pauldrons.

I feel that this costume is somewhat more like Ren Faire garb than it is an anime convention cosplay. It’s the sort of costume that grows over time, that will change and evolve and level up every time I wear it. I’m already back at it, researching new skills and methods to add embellishments or structure or just that Certain Something that will enhance Taako, or at least how I see him.

(Top : 2018 / Bottom 2009)

#cosplayinamericaV3

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eringurumi · 6 years ago

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Tahm Kench Pattern

Hey friends! I got a request to share my Tahm Kench pattern... I am sorry to admit, I crocheted this guy YEARS ago and in kind of a fugue state, so I don’t know how helpful my notes will be. But we can do our best! Seriously though, if you’re trying to use this pattern and have a question, please ask because I’m sure there is something I missed or was unclear with. And as usual, if anyone uses this pattern, please link back to my page, and tag me or send me a picture! I’d love to see what people make!

I used 3 mm crochet hook, and as I mentioned in my hummingbird pattern, don’t remember what kind of yarn I got, but it was pretty thin and shiny... and the other yarns were all I believe some kind of Red Heart scraps. Find what works for you!

^Head:

Ok, this is the hardest part I think, so if you get through this you’re golden. Here was my strategy for making the head! It’s pretty flat (not a lot of max-stitch rows), and I made a big gaping mouth that we’re gonna add the inside to later. I also want to make a note here, that since I was using such thin yarn I had to make my circumference pretty long (48 stitches), but I think with even a relatively non-thick yarn (for example, Red Heart Super Saver), that many stitches will make a MUCH larger product, so, adapt as you see fit...

6 sc in a magic circle

inc 6x to make 12 stitches

(1 sc, inc) 6x to make 18 stitches

(2 sc, inc) 6x to make 24 stitches

(3 sc, inc) 6x to make 30 stitches

(4 sc, inc) 6x to make 36 stitches

(5 sc, inc) 6x to make 42 stitches

(6 sc, inc) 6x to make 48 stitches

1 row of 48 stitches

Ok, here’s where it gets a little tricky: to make that wide open mouth, instread of crocheting into the loops I made a 20 stitch long foundation single crochet chain (it’s like a slightly fancier chain, it takes longer but looks cleaner and is harder to get twisted, I really like it!) then came back down to the existing circle and finished the last 28 single chains. This makes the top of the head and the bottom “lip”.

^Finishing off the rest of the head:

3 rows of 48 stitches

(6 sc, dec) 6x to make 42 stitches

(5 sc, dec) 6x to make 36 stitches

(4 sc, dec) 6x to make 30 stitches

(3 sc, dec) 6x to make 24 stitches

(2 sc, dec) 6x to make 18 stitches

(1 sc, dec) 6x to make 12 stitches

finish off by decreasing, tie off end

Then I stuffed the head through the mouth! Here you can see me spectating some old school League as inspiration while I worked!

^Eyes:

I think it would have been cool if I had had some sort of safety eye that would have been more appropriate for TK, or one I could paint, but instead I opted to make his eyes from yarn. Pretty easy:

With green yarn, 6 sc in a magic circle

Sew a single stitch with yellow yarn

Attach to the head

By the way, you can see here I was considering putting cardboard inside the mouth so the stuffing wouldn’t bulge out too much, but ultimately didn’t end up needing it.

^Inside of mouth

I have this lovely raspberry yarn that was absolutely scrap yarn from my grad school knitting circle’s stash and I love it and don’t know anything about it. Anyway, for the mouth, I started doing a regular magic circle with increases UNTIL IT FIT INSIDE THE CIRCUMFERENCE OF THE LIPS. I used half double crochets which I think are much stretchier/squishier since ultimately it got pulled into a more oval shape. This will obviously change depending on the weight of the two yarns you’re using, so just take this as guidelines:

6 hdc in a magic circle

inc 6x to make 12 stitches

(1 hdc, inc) 6x to make 18 stitches

(2 hdc, inc) 6x to make 24 stitches

Then tie off with a long tail, and sew inside the mouth, being careful not to show the red yarn through to the other side of the green.

^ Make tongue out of felt

Look at this gummy hilarious fellow! For the tongue, cut a shape that you like, and hot glue it deep inside the mouth! I went for a long licking tongue, and used a thin raspberry colored sharpie to add a bit of depth to it.

^Make teeth out of felt:

Same deal! Cut out tiny little triangles, glue them in! It looks like even though I was making the tongue and teeth at the same time, I glued the teeth in first? I don’t think it matters though.

^Make a tiny hat out of felt:

Haha, this was fun - I really just went by eye, making the hat out of three pieces of felt: A circle for the top, a strip for the side, and a doughnut for the brim. I added a bit of trim with the raspberry yarn and kept it on his head with a pin (to emulate the fish hook he has in this hat), although I imagine making a hook out of something else and using hot glue to attach the hat could work too.

^Mustache:

Now he’s starting to look like the River King - for the mustache I just made a 25 stitch chain, made sure both ends were secure (I think I used a dab of hot glue). then cut off the yarn ends. I sewed it on with thread just by catching a little bit of the fiber, then made his ring by tying a bit of gold yarn around it!

^Body and arms:

Phew, were back to some good old crocheting. This bit is super straight forward. To make the body:

6 sc in a magic circle

inc 6x to make 12 stitches

(1 sc, inc) 6x to make 18 stitches

(2 sc, inc) 6x to make 24 stitches

(3 sc, inc) 6x to make 30 stitches

(4 sc, inc) 6x to make 36 stitches

(5 sc, inc) 6x to make 42 stitches

(5 sc, dec) 6x to make 36

1 row of 36 stitches

(4 sc, dec) 6x to make 30 stitches

(3 sc, dec) 6x to make 24 stitches

(2 sc, dec) 6x to make 18 stitches

2 rows of 18 stitches

Bind off and leave a long tail, stuff and attach to head

For the arms, I used two colors to indicate his... gauntlets?

6 sc in a magic circle

switch to brown yarn, sc, inc, 3 sc, inc, sc to make 8 stitches

1 row of 8 stitches

switch back to green, 2 rows of 8 stitches

Bind off leaving a tail, and sew onto the body

^Haunches, feet, tail:

Since TK is so rotund and squat, I gave him little stubby little legs and haunches.

To make the haunches:

6 sc in a magic circle

inc 6x to make 12 stitches

1 row of 12 stitches

Bind off leaving a tail

To sew them on, I found it easiest to start attaching them low down on the body, then stuffing them slightly before closing the rest of the stitches

To make the feet:

6 sc in a magic circle

2 rows of 6 stitches

Bind off leaving a short tail

To make these little flat feet, DON’T stuff them, instead press them flat, then sew them to the underside of the body so they just poke out under the haunches

To make the tail:

6 sc in a magic circle

(2 sc, inc) 2x to make 8 stitches

(1 sc, inc) 4x to make 12 stitches

2 rows of 12 stitches

Sew on the back low down so it helps him to stand up!

^ Coat:

I remember this cool bit of lore from when Tahm was released - his coat is actually two coats stitched together because he’s... i guess too big for just one coat? He also has this smart looking vest and I made the facimile of these things by sewing the front panels slightly inside the back panels to that the back bits stick out.. Again, I was eyeballing this so that it actually FIT on his body, so if your yarn weights differ, this exact pattern may not work:

2 back panels with arm holes, navy yarn and tan yarn:

foundation sc 8x

Turn, hdc 3, chain 3 to make arm hole (skips over 3 stitches), 2 hdc

Turn, 8 hdc

Sew the two halves together after making sure that his arms fit through them and they meet snugly in the back

2 front panels, raspberry yarn:

foundation sc 4x

Turn, hdc 4

Sew them on to the back panels with a bit of the back panel sticking out, making sure it comes together in TK’s front snugly.

Sew the shirt shut with some goldenrod yarn!

* I made the very ghostliest hint of lapels by taking the tails of the raspberry yarn, weaving them up through the top center corners of the vest and then tugging them down and sewing the yarn into his body. It’s a small touch but nice I think??

And that’s him! Good luck Unbenching, again, please feel free to ask if you have any questions because this was a mess!

#pattern #crochet #amigurumi #tahmkench #tahm kench #League of Legends #Riot Games #request #diy #stuffie #yarn #felt

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punapurreciator · 7 years ago

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My Favorite Ladybug Writers

So I pretty recently joined the Miraculous Ladybug fandom (about 4 months?) and I went on an absolute reading spree but Noticed a lot of the fic rec lists out there are pretty sparse or there's a lot of repetition. And I figured, ya know I just read nearly 300 fics over the last few months I might as well make some recommendations XD

So this is the first of possibly many rec lists Im going to put together for the Ladybug fandom. enjoy!

Quicksilversquared

This writer has 89(!!!) Fanfics out there for Miraculous Ladybug and they are pretty much ALL wonderful. The writing is excellent, characterization on point and there's never a boring moment. And the great thing is that most of these stories (even the serious/heavy ones) have some degree of playfulness to them. This writer never seems to let you walk away without a smile, and that's amazing.

Here are a few of my favorites:

The Cooking Contest - An out-of-class assignment leads to the entirety of the class participating in a cooking competition. …some people do better than others.

the Anniversary - The anniversary of Adrien's mother's disappearance was always difficult. He's sure nothing can make his day any less miserable… ...until a certain spotted superhero shows up.

the Crocodile Glasses - When knock-off copies of Jagged Stone's super-awesome Eiffel Tower start popping up, Jagged is not pleased. Still, it doesn't take long to come up with a solution- he just needs to release his own official line of sunglasses! And naturally, he needs one Marinette Dupain-Cheng to design them for him. Now, if only Marinette could figure out how to execute some of Jagged's more out-there ideas...

Hacking the Ladyblog - Chat Noir likes taking goofy pictures on patrol. That was normal. What was not normal was those photos showing up without any explanation on the Ladyblog.

Princess to the Rescue - Chat Noir gets into a bit of trouble when the akumatized magician Exodus the Spectacular overpowers him in a fight and Ladybug is nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, a baker’s daughter joins the fight. aka Marinette totally has Bo staff fight training and kicks some villain butt.

Cuddles in a Coat - In a lot of ways, Adrien Agreste isn't a normal teenage boy. He's a model, he has a bodyguard, he's secretly a superhero.... But just like any other teenager, he'll stubbornly refuse to admit when an adult was right. Even if he ends up freezing because of it.

Otoshigo Another talented writer is Otoshigo who seems to straddle the border of utterly adorable (see: For the Love of Shoujo ) and Slightly twisted (See: Benefactor ) or even dark. This writer can play the characters as the awkward blushing teens they are, and they can just as easily (and convincingly!!!) twist their perceptions ever so slightly toward something deeper (and slightly terrifying)

Some of the stories CAN be really weird and out there, but hey, read the tags so you know what you’re getting into and you won't have any trouble. (shrugs)

Some more of my favorites include:

27 Secrets - “Secrets,” Chat purred, waving the photo out like a little flag. “I want secrets. Twenty-seven pictures worth of secrets. And you’ll give them to me. One picture at a time.” [Shameless Marichat]

Caught and Captured - Adrien gets caught in a little lie, that somehow only spirals more and more out of control. Is there any way to pull himself out of it? Does he even want to? [Adrienette]

(Adrien acts like cat noir around Marinette and she thinks they've body-swapped. X3 This story Is simultaneously hilarious and heart-wrenching)

Marinette Saves the World - Through a series of unfortunate events, average and clumsy Marinette meets a boy from the future! Who says that he needs to have sex with her to save the world? Except no. Just... no.

(OMG this one!!! Drop what you’re doing and read it NOW!!! It's so freaking sweet and seriously romantic!!!)

Guilty Pleasures - An anonymous writer is a little too good at writing fanfiction and Marinette somehow gets roped into reading it. Problem is, now she can’t put it down. [LadyNoir]

Chat Noir: Calendar Edition - Marinette’s class has to come up with an idea to make some cash for their upcoming class trip. However, things go awry with their plan and somehow Chat Noir gets involved. All Marinette wants is to go to Nice with Adrien. Can she make it through this without losing her mind?

Clairelutra Next up is Clairelutra who seems to make it a goal to melt her readers to piles of goo with sexual tension so thick you COULDN'T cut it with a knife. (Almost all her stories are rated as at least T) but, (as much as I love sexual tension and smut in a fic) That’s far from all this writer brings to the table. Clairelutra is a master at grabbing a readers heart and "puppeteering" (puppeteer, haha) it any way she so chooses.

Whether she deigns to make you tear up and/or cry : ( see: river flows in you) Or gets your heart racing in her action scenes ( see: welcome to the show) or makes your toes curl during a kiss ( ALSO see: welcome to the show, and Bang Bang, and... ahem. well there are a lot.) And there's that (WONDERFUL AMAZING PRECIOUS) element of tenderness and longing in just about EVERY romantic scene that just KILLS me every time.

Anyway, some of my favorites of hers include:

gonna miss this someday - “I mean, am I just too clingy?” Chat asked her ceiling, reclining on her lounge and tossing a spare ball of yarn up and down as Marinette beaded with a vengeance. “I know it’s just one day, but I miss her.”(When Ladybug misses their nightly friend-date, Chat asks Marinette for girl advice.)

i think it’s time i told you (i’m a fan of your universe) - “...Something up, minou?” He didn’t answer her at first, staying silent as he opened his palm and stared at it. Or rather, stared at the ring in it.

Ladybug stared, almost unseeing, at the blood-red stone nestled in its bed of diamonds, and wondered why it suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe.

(It wasn’t necessarily an engagement ring, right? She... she would’ve known if he had a lover, wouldn’t she? Chat was too much of a hopeless romantic to not gush about a significant other to anyone who would listen if he had one... right?

It could be a memento or a gift or... something. Something that didn’t imply Chat was about to get married.)

“...Have you ever thought about getting married?” ...Or not.

you're really my dearest friend - Sometimes, the process of getting out is much more difficult than it really should be — but sometimes friends can help, if you let them.

we're the kids your mama warned you about - (A collection of PWP oneshots, mostly focusing on Ladynoir/the love square, as I try to teach myself how to sin.)

hot mess - (the sequel to Bang Bang ) ...What did one say to one's vigilante partner when said partner was in costume and he was in a bathrobe? What did one say to the lady who had pinned him to a wall and kissed him senseless, not knowing he was her partner? What did one say to the girl he had been in love with for years when he was alone with her in his room at night? "Come here often, beautiful?" Not that. Imthepunchlord Oh wow, here's a writer who knows how to balance playful with exciting really well. A lot of their fics are action/adventure driven plots and they know how to build up to that big fight at the end without making you spend half the fic dreading it. There's always too much happening for you to feel much besides excitement. Which, honestly, I LOVED about these stories. They keep the ball rolling at a great pace and never seems to rely on exposition when they can just show you something. And that lends itself to the feeling of being right there in the story with the character. (A MUST for any good action/adventure) This writer also knows how to stretch the rules with magic and the kwami juuust right to make everything fit and still be believable (a gift if ever I saw one)

Some of my favorites from Iamthepunchlord are:

Marinette and the Seven Little Gods - Marinette been down on her luck, waiting for the day karma would give her something good, something that would make her life better! She wasn't expecting karma to give her a box, a box with seven little gods in it.

Over the Wall - The accident, while unintentional, was costly. For her wrong doings against Chloe, Marinette is sent over the wall to die. But instead of death, she winds up in a strange, unnerving world. Good thing she'll have a cat to watch her back in this bizarre place. (inspired by a mix of movies and shows: Stardust, Beauty and the Beast, Alice in Wonderland, Secret of Moonacre, and Over the Garden Wall.)

Trouble in White - Finding your soulmate is supposed to be uplifting, and amazing, and just... miraculous. But for Marinette, it wasn't any of that. Her soulmate, he... he was... What does one do when your soulmate is an akuma?

The Ladybug and The Mer - When Captain Ladybug is lost at sea, she finds herself saved by one of the most dangerous sea beings in the world: a mer. (Merman Adrien AU)

Always a Hero, No Matter the Miraculous - (a LARGE series) it covers a big variety of Miraculous/kwami swaps. Including such favorites as:

Rise of Mariposa - Where Marinette is chosen by the butterfly to help Cat Noir in his fight against Harlequin who has taken possession of the ladybug miraculous for her own selfish gain.

& the short: Delicate Wings - Where Adrien is the butterfly helping ladybug fight the evil black cat from afar.

Kindness from a Stray - where Adrien and Marinette have kwami swapped (There are several shorts like this, all equally funny/cute)

A Declaration of Love - Adrien is the fox and Marinette is the peacock <3

(oh GOD I love this one. it's an all-time favorite. It’s very sweet and playful and its done so well that it just WORKS. I love the conflict of his feather allergy keeping Adrien (AKA Malin) from his beloved Belle Bleue XD)

Freedom_Shamrock If fluff is your thing PLEASE check this writer out!!! Freedom_Shamrock is a master of cuddles, snuggles, and hugs. Their stories just exude a soft comforting vibe that sinks into your bones and stays there for the rest of the day. But they are also INTERESTING. The conversations are memorable, The plots are intriguing and the characterization is lovely. If you want something sweetly romantic to read look no further.

Some of my personal favorites include:

Something Familiar - Marinette is a teenage witch, and it's time for her to find a familiar. (Witch AU, no kwamis, Adrien never got to go to school) ( HIGHLY RECOMENDED!!! Cutest cat!Adrien fic EVER )

A Little Light - (series) its basically an adorable series where Adrien notices Marinette on his own and asks her out. It follows up with their first date, some problems with dating while being a superhero, and then an accidental reveal. (every bit of this one is SO SO CUTE.)

Hugdrien (AKA: Adrien Needs Hugs) - (series) With this one the name pretty much says it all. It’s a series of stories where Adrien is having a tough time at home and Marinette and their friends/her family are there for him.

Miraculous Acts of Kindness - (series) this series is basically a slowburn MariChat fic XD It’s super cute and fluffy but also leads into Mature waters so be aware of that! BullySquadess @bullysquadess

Here's another writer who's clearly out to melt her readers with sexual tension But BullySquadess is out to do it with a goddamn VENGEANCE. (and she WILL make you laugh yourself to death getting there) Her stories are drop dead sexy and SUPER funny. It's the kind of well-built humor that has you cackling so loud people can hear you across the house and forces you to take breaks from reading just to BREATHE. I think the best part of this writers style for me is the hopeful longing she just pulls out of Chat like its the most natural thing in the world. It’s so so so so so sweet and it plays to his character perfectly. and she gets it just right every time. word of caution: the writer multi-ships so if you don't dig it then check the tags before getting invested. XD

My favorites of hers include:

The Ladybugs and The Bees - Ladybug and Chat Noir tackle teenhood! Watch our heroes face the realities of growing up- surviving puberty and akuma alike as together they navigate the unknown pitfalls of love and first-time intimacy. Also dick jokes. There's like... alot of dick jokes.

Oh man who hasn't read this one? It's been on like every fic rec list i could find when i first joined the fandom. But oh WOW does it deserve it. This sucker is 38 (!!!) chapters long so far (!!??) and I've read it THREE TIMES. I joined the fandom like FOUR months ago! And yet I keep coming back to this one becouse it's just SO GOOD.

Seven Minutes - Post-Reveal, Adrien and Marinette continue to play chicken with their feeling. Alya, however, has other games in mind...

Live by the Ladybutt - Chat likes Ladybug's Ladybutt. Ladybug likes that Chat likes her Ladybutt. Crack ensues.

Casual - Ladybug has grown exceptionally comfortable with her partner... which means Chat Noir is #suffering.

The Pitfalls Of Being a Wingman - We all know the classic Marichat tale, but what's happening behind the scenes of our favorite duo's love-making? (AKA Plagg regrets everything and it’s HILARIOUS) XDD

Cohabitation (And Other Disastrous Ideas) - These two best friends decide to move in together, what happens next will shock you! (Or not, considering all roommate fics end up the same anyhow.) thelastpilot

Oh man, all of this writer's stories have this element of almost poetic beauty to them that it's really hard to describe the style. There's never a word or a scene wasted with this writer. It's all about slowly building up that relationship brick by brick, SEEING the characters getting closer and closer with every new meeting and then finishing it off in a MASSIVELY fulfilling way. The humor is top notch too but it seems to take a backseat to the plot and considering how well done the plot typically is I have no problem with that.

word of caution- This writer multi-ships so If you're like me and looking for a specific pairing remember to check the tags! XD

My personal favorites of this writer include:

Won't Tell a Soul - Nino accidentally runs head long into the biggest most stressful secret he can imagine, but now that he knows the truth about Marinette he is determined to help her in any way he can. (Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng)

& Its sequel: The Weight of Jade - which shockingly (for this list) centers around Nino/Alya. This writer really knows how to get their characters across in all the best ways. This is one of the few times in fanfiction I really found myself really enjoying a side character's story and that's something HUGE.

Rainy Days - A storm rolls through Paris and refuses to let up, so when a water fearing cat is rescued by the kind efforts of his designing classmate he starts to pay a little closer attention to someone he should have always known better.

Quiet Ice, Silent Nights - Cat Noir is on a late night patrol when he catches sight of an elegant lone figure skater, and is surprised to discover it is his classmate Marinette.

Okay, this one is simply put, a work of ART. It is beautiful. The way the writer lovingly describes the ice skating and (spoilers: the piano scenes) makes you really FEEL the beauty of the moment. It’s so lovely.~ Seriously, drop what you're doing and read this if you haven't already

Paw Problems - (An alternate version of the Animan Episode) The class has taken a field trip to the zoo, but when Kim starts being a jerk and creates a major situation, are Ladybug and Cat Noir going to be enough to get everyone out on two feet? Or are the classmates going to need to get used to paws, hooves, and talons? Sadly, this one's unfinished. But let me say I LOVED the little snippets of humor in this, especially Chloe's animal form and Nino's reaction to it. XD KryallaOrchid The style KryallaOrchid uses is pretty similar to Quicksilversquared in that the stories all have some degree of playfulness and humor to them ( I love that in fics) but they also aim for something a little deeper too. this writer likes to play on the idea of rightness between the characters and builds off it as they go. (I'm all for the 'soulmate' vibe Adrien and Marinette have going on)

Some favorites are:

Tendencies - (series) Miraculous have side effects. From pats becoming a necessity to eating flowers, follow Adrien and Marinette as they come to terms with their new tendencies, and each other. Hawk Moth is coming.

This is a LOOOOOONG series and makes for a very entertaining read.

Sting - When Chat Noir inexplicably disappears, leaving Ladybug bee-hind to face Papillon on her own, a new wielder is chosen to keep the akuma from swarming. Ladybug is adamant she doesn’t want another partner buzzing around and why is this new-bee flirting with her? Meanwhile, Adrien just wishes Ladybug would stop bugging out and listen to him because his bee puns are fuzz-tastic.

I seriously went into this one thinking I wasn't going to like it and I ended up falling head over heels for it. Sting is SO worth the read. Watching poor Ladybug freak out over her missing partner (sending him voicemails wondering where he is and trying to reassure him she's not 'replacing' him with this new bee hero and that she's going to get him back ) Is so SO SOO heart wrenching and sweet.

(and thankfully Adrien DOES manage to get through to her that Chat IS 'Bumblebee’ fairly early on so we aren't left stewing in angst FOREVER)

Reflections - The mirror shows you how you truly are, but for a Miraculous holder, it shows what was. All Marinette can see is ghosts and she doesn’t want to become one. (A heart-wrencher for SURE but the ending was SO worth it.) ---

#Miraculous Ladybug Fic rec list #fic rec list #Ladynoir #Marichat #Adrienette #Ladrein #Favorite fic writers

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scilessecretsanta · 7 years ago

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Sciles Secret Santa gift for @insert-reference-here from @stydiahasconquered!

Hope you like the fanfic, I’ve included a few of your suggestions :)

4 MONTHS AGO

‘Okay – yeah, I know – no, I… no, of course not! – I will. I promise. – Bye. – Yeah bye, goodbye. Bye dad!’, Stiles hung up the phone, exhausted, and dragged a hand through his hair. His dad had been worried sick about him as he had driven all the way to the East Coast, alone. He just turned eighteen, but he wasn’t a baby anymore. Stiles understood his father’s good intentions, but sometimes…

He stepped out of his trusted Jeep, rotating his head around the parking lot, taking in the many buildings he’d seen a year ago when he first visited the university. He grinned, happy nerves building in his stomach as he picked his backpack (He’d fetch his luggage later. It wasn’t a necessity now.), took the map out of the front pocket and started walking to the main building. The university, George Washington University, accommodated dorms for students who needed them. Seeing as he previously lived in California, it was a requirement.

‘Alright,’ he murmured, ‘Madison Hall.’ After knocking over someone’s boxes and nearly getting hit with a soccer ball, he finally reached his residence. He briefly remembered the name of his roommate, Scott, who he had been matched with over the summer. They’ve talked a little bit between then and now, mostly about rules and if there were any allergies. (Apparently, Scott was allergic to mushrooms. Luckily for him, Stiles never ordered a mushroom pizza.) He’d seen a grainy picture of him as well, with only his tan skin and crooked jaw standing out. Stiles just hoped he wasn’t asshole, he’d seen enough of those to last a lifetime.

The corridors were relatively empty, considering it was the week before classes started. Perhaps he was quite late, or the others were all last minute. He didn’t know. He didn’t care.

Just as he was about to open his door, it flung open, startling Stiles. ‘Wow!’ The guy on the other end was frozen for a moment too, until his hands shot forward. ‘I’m sorry!’ Stiles coughed, laughing awkwardly, ‘It’s ah, fine. Are you Scott?’ ‘Yeah,’ Scott had an easy smile, ‘Stiles?’ ‘Yep!’, he grinned. Scott seemed nice, at first glance. He hoped it would stay that way. ‘Cool. Come in.’

The room was, as expected, dull and small. It had two, simple twin beds with matching nightstands. Two dressers, two desks, two corkboards, a “grey but it was once white trust me” wall colour and a tiny bathroom that contained a toilet, sink and mirror. The common showers and kitchen were down the hall. The right side was already occupied with what Stiles assumed was Scott’s stuff.

‘I took the bed at the window, if you don’t mind,’ Scott said. ‘Yeah, I don’t mind,’ Stiles dropped his bag on the free bed, ‘have you done anything already?’ Scott shook his head, ‘No. I just wanted to go to the activity fair when you came. Wanna join me?’ Stiles shrugged. ‘Sure.’

‘Where are you from?’, Scott asked, examining the colourful stands. Stiles scoffed, there was a club for literally everything. ‘California. North.’ Scott smiled, ‘I’m from South-California.’ Stiles had wanted to say something about why the fuck he was always smiling, when Scott’s face lit up even more and ran towards a booth. ‘You wanna audition for a band?’, Stiles crinkled his nose, staring at horrible posters with stock photos they got from Getty Images. ‘Yeah, why not? I play guitar.’ ‘I think every American guy plays guitar.’ ‘Do you?’ ‘No. The drums.’ ‘You should audition too!’ Stiles laughed shortly. ‘No.’ Scott shrugged, putting his name on the list where already a few other names were noted. ‘Are you going to join something?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Stiles mumbled, eyes skating across the field, ‘Is there a “solving bloody murders”-club, by chance?’ Scott looked up, staring at him weirdly. ‘You like that?’ Stiles smiled, ‘Well – yeah. It’s fun to figure things out.’ ‘You have friends who liked that too?’ Green eyes and strawberry blonde hair smiled at him in his memory. ‘Yeah.’ Scott seemed to realise Stiles didn’t want to talk about it, so he resumed blabbing out his guitar, which Stiles appreciated. He’d rather not think about his relationship with Lydia.

Near the end of the night, posters of “All Time Low” and “Paramore” hung on Scott’s side of the room, whilst Stiles had one up from “Star Wars” and “The Mummy”. Pictures of mums and dads pinned on the boards, books neatly placed in drawers as well as clothes. (‘Do you only wear shirts?’, “Do you only wear flannels?’) Scott’s guitar was placed in one corner, and Stiles’ yarn had a dedicated spot that was not allowed to be touched by anyone other than himself.

‘Have you seen Star Wars?’ ‘Uh – no.’ ‘What. Scott!’ He laughed, spinning in his desk chair. ‘I don’t know. I don’t like science fiction.’ ‘Scotty, you’re going to watch that. That’s my mission this year.’

3 MONTHS AGO

‘I can’t believe you dragged me to this.’ ‘Dude. You won’t get carded.’ ‘… Fine. But still,’ Stiles waved his hands at the bar, ‘Instead of learning, like I should, you dragged me to a concert.’ ‘Where I’ll be playing!’ Stiles rolled his eyes aggressively. He wasn’t a fan of punk pop, which Scott knew, so he had no idea why he had asked Stiles to come. Perhaps for moral support. But couldn’t he, like, support him from his room?

‘Look. I’ll buy you as many beers as you want, at we’re back at uni in three hours,’ Scott sent him the warm smile that seemed to be his brand. Stiles rolled his eyes, answering his smile with a pat on his shoulder. ‘Okay.’ ‘Thanks, man.’

An hour later, Scott and the band, named “Alpha Pack”, were bringing the entire pub into a frenzy. Mosh pits being made as the music swelled, people (read: girls) screaming as the lead singer, Isaac, came forward towards the stage. Stiles snorted. Why was he wearing a scarf? Isn’t that hot?

His eyes drifted to Scott whose hands swiftly strummed chords, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. Speaking of hot.

It was a fact that Scott was a handsome boy. It was objective. Grass in green, a couch is a piece of furniture, Scott is handsome. It wasn’t like Stiles had felt any attraction towards him. But… Well, Scott looked very nice right now.

Stiles was familiar with these feelings though. They didn’t scare him. He has only had girlfriends, but he knew he liked boys as well. There just haven’t been great candidates around. The topic of relationships hasn’t come up yet between them, but he assumed Scott was straight. Not because he knew, more so to protect himself. He had a strong sense of self-preservation, including protecting his heart. This guy had to be his roommate for a year, he’d rather keep things friendly and light. No need to make things intense and heavy. But in that moment he couldn’t help wondering what Scott’s lips tasted like.

‘What did you think?’, Scott asked, huffing and cheeks red. He plopped down next to him. ‘Like I said, not my thing. But you did ah, you did good,’ Stiles patted his on the back, pursing his lips into a smile. His perverted thoughts about Scott were shoved to the back of his mind and slowly withering. It was probably the heat, Stiles thought. He gave his beer to Scott. ‘Thanks.’ Stiles observed the people around them, ‘You have a lot of fangirls.’ Scott grinned cheekily. ‘Yeah. This girl, Malia, came up to me when I was cleaning up.’ Stiles briefly remembered the girl. Tall, confident, blond-brownish hair. Pretty. ‘So, you got her number?’ Scott shook his head, suddenly appearing very shy. ‘No. I mean, she gave it to me. But… I don’t… I don’t like girls.’ Stiles eyebrows rose involuntarily, and Scott winced. ‘No!,’ Stiles yelled out, panicked, ‘I’m not homophobic or anything. Just surprised.’ Scott visibly relaxed. ‘Thank God. I thought I had to pretend to be straight for an entire year.’ ‘Nah. I’m bisexual, so.’ Scott smiled, ‘Cool.’

2 MONTHS AGO

‘Ah, come on!’, Stiles yellow, throwing popcorn at the screen.

With the money Scott earned with playing gigs and Stiles’ shifts at the University coffee shop, they were able to buy a tv from Craigslist. It was honestly one of their best investments yet. As of right now, a lacrosse game was on, and the team was playing terribly. A week ago, they found out they both played lacrosse. The only difference was that Scott was captain for three years, whilst Stiles… well, he usually sat on the bench. Scott snatched the bowl from him. ‘Stop throwing the popcorn!’ ‘They deserve to be hit with something.’ ‘Throw your socks or something.’ Stiles sputtered out a laugh. ‘Whatever.’ They missed again. ‘Alright!’, he shot upright, throwing a sock at the screen. Scott laughed. ‘I can’t see more of this. I’m gonna shower.’ ‘Leaving me alone with this horrible game?’, Scott gasped, eyes dancing amusedly. ‘Yes. Goodbye.’

As Stiles wandered towards the common showers, a small smile played on his lips. Scott and him had become great friends over the past two months. He’d never had a best guy friend in high school, as most of his friends were girls. Boyd was fun, but they never connected on a deeper level.

‘Fuck my life.’ Stiles had forgotten to bring his clothes. Knowing how college students were, he either made it to his bedroom with a few chuckles of passer-by’s, or someone snatched his towel away. It was one or the other. Stiles prayed it was the first. Sneakily, he sprinted through the hall, tightly holding on to the blue towel around his waist. His door was in sight. Smiling relieved, he busted through the door, smashing it shut. ‘What the fuck happened?’, Scott asked, frowning. ‘Oh.’ ‘Yeah, I forgot…’, Stiles lingered off, suddenly feeling very conscious of his body. Scott was fixated on his chest, staring at it in a way that made Stiles feel funny. ‘I ah, forgot my clothes.’ It seemed to snap Scott out of whatever daydream he was in, flushing red slightly. ‘Right. Uh. Yeah. I’ll,’ he pointed to the tv-screen, stepping backwards and bumping against the couch, ‘ouch. Anyway. He abruptly turned around, leaving them both red faced. Stiles quickly grabbed some clothes and dressed himself in the bathroom. As he sat back down on the couch, a weird energy surrounded them. ‘What’s the score?’, Stiles asked, anything to erase the intensity of the situation. ‘It’s over. The other team won.’ ‘Fucking hell,’ Stiles grumbled. Scott chuckled.

‘So, you like him?’, Kira’s voice said. He pressed the button of “speaker”, so he could fold his laundry. ‘Yeah.’ ‘And he’s gay?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘So why won’t you ask him out?’, she sounded exasperated. Stiles smiled. Kira was always one that loved a good romance. ‘Because,’ he trailed off, thinking of all the horrible scenarios that could happen. He’d reject him, he’d laugh at him, things would get awkward, he’d get jealous if Scott brought a guy in their dorm. ‘If it doesn’t work out, it’ll be awkward.’ ‘Or he doesn’t reject you and you live happily ever after.’ ‘I thought I’d be living happily ever after with Lydia and look what happened,’ he grumbled, throwing a flannel in his dresser. ‘Do you still talk to her?’, her voice seemed further away, he subtly heard papers ruffling. ‘Yeah. Sometimes.’ ‘That’s good,’ he heard her smile, ‘Anyway, has he showed any interest?’ ‘Well… he does sit close to me on the couch, but maybe he’s just a touchy person.’ ‘Or he likes you.’ ‘And he has looked at my chest when I was half naked in our room?’ She sputtered, ‘Was that your way of flirting?’ ‘No!’, he yelled, blushing, ‘It was an accident.’ ‘Of course,’ Kira quickly replied, ‘but you have to consider it, Stiles. Maybe he does like you, or has thought about you differently. I mean, it must be fate, right? Two guys, attracted to the same sex-‘ ‘I like girls too.’ ‘- in the same dorm room. He’s your type, and there’s a big chance you’re his type as well.’ ‘But.’ ‘No, buts.’ ‘I swear to God, Stiles. If you don’t ask him out, I’ll hunt his phone number down and do it for you.’ Stiles’ eyebrows rose, grabbing his phone. ‘Please don’t,’ she’d actually do it. He knew that. ‘I won’t if you do it.’ ‘… Fine. Not today, though. But I will.’ ‘Good.’

1 MONTH AGO

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Stiles was sitting on the curb at the front of a fraternity house, music booming from inside and red solo cups scattered on the ground. A nearly empty can of beer was in his hand as he stared in front of him, eyes terrified as he recalled what happened. He kissed Scott.

It was honestly an accident.

Isaac had invited them. He was in this fraternity (Stiles couldn’t remember the name, he was a bit drunk. Just a little bit, though.) and as Scott was part of the band, it was expected of him to come. Naturally, Scott took Stiles with him. Over the past months, they’ve been nearly glued to the hip. He didn’t know why, it just worked. They clicked.

They’d all been dancing to the music, drinking beer after beer, and suddenly there were shots, and then there was this girl who looked a lot like Lydia and then he took another drink and then

And then his lips were on Scott’s for a good ten seconds before he realised what he was doing and ran away.

And here he was now. ‘You always fuck everything up,’ he mumbled, angry drunk tears falling from his eyes. It was December, not even the new year and he’d already made things go south.

He licked the last bit of beer from the can, crushing it and throwing it on the ground. He stood up, dusted the dirt of his jeans and began walking to the dormitories. It was only three miles anyway.

NOW

They haven’t talked about it. It was three weeks ago. Stiles sighed, looking up from his workbook and staring at the corkboard in front of him. Scott’s presence was tangible. They were both intensely studying for the exams, spending even more time together as they hardly left this room. The last time Stiles had gone out was six hours ago, which was for breakfast.

‘Do you wanna grab lunch?’, Scott’s voice suddenly broke the silence, making him jump in his seat. ‘Sorry.’ Stiles shrugged. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he rolled away from his desk, stood up and grabbed his bomber jacket. ‘Where d’you wanna eat?’ Scott stared at him for a moment. Stilese’ eyes flickered downwards. He had a feeling something was going to happen. Something bad. ‘Why aren’t we talking about it?’, Scott eventually said. ‘Because,’ Stiles tried to find the words. Because I’m ashamed. Because I don’t want to be rejected. Because I like our friendship. Because I like you. ‘it’s awkward. It was an accident.’ Scott crossed his arms, furrowing his brows. ‘An accident?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘So, you didn’t like it?’ ‘Well…,’ Stiles gulped, ‘I did like it. That’s the problem.’ His confession hung in the air like crackling electricity. Scott’s eyes widened exponentially. ‘Oh.’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Well…,’ Scott’s warm smile tugged at Stiles’ heartstrings. God damn it, what was this boy doing to him?, ‘Good thing I like you too, then.’

Involuntarily, Stiles beamed at him. Scott returned the gesture. ‘Good, now we don’t need to awkwardly dress ourselves in the bathroom anymore.’ Scott chuckled, cautiously grabbing his hand, ‘Right, because that’s the first thing I think about.’

#insertreferencehere #scilessecretsanta #sss17 #sciles #stydiahasconquered #submission

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musicalsandmayhemandmurderohmy · 7 years ago

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Sprace - First Encounter Modern AU

Sorry I haven’t been posting a lot lately, summer has been pretty hectic (not with a social life unfortunately, but hey)! Anyway, I’m on holliers at the moment so here’s a little fic, that turned out way longer than I’d intended - any thoughts on Sarah and Spot being good friends? ~

***** Sarah started as the first fat raindrops hit her forehead. She’d been in an almost trance-like state since this morning, equally eagerly awaiting and dreading the next week. This was going to be the longest she’d spent away from Katherine since they’d moved in together, and, as childishly clingy as it might sound, she hated being apart from her girlfriend any longer than she had to be. Thanksgiving with the family had become an almost sacred tradition among the Jacobs, especially since Esther and Mayer had moved out to Long Island after they’d retired. It was time for their children to grow up, they’d joked, and stop visiting them every day just because they couldn’t cook or do laundry themselves. Still, they were always happy to see Sarah and Davey return to the nest, especially now that Les was always touring with his show; the years of auditions had finally paid off - Lesley Jacobs, thirteen, was in the middle of a successful tour of North America as Billy Elliott - the Billy Elliott, he’d exclaimed when he found out. Rummaging through her pockets, Sarah fished out her phone to check her messages. Hi sis, running late - allow half hour. See you soon x. She bit her lip, wondering how much longer the worse of the rain would hold off. Above her, the sky showed little mercy, dark storm clouds hanging low over the skyscrapers and spires. Okay, ring me when you get here - finding shelter. Hope you’re not texting while driving. Say hi to Schrödinger dinger for me x she replied, wrestling her umbrella into some sort of adequate shelter, before hoisting her bag onto her back and setting off in search of a shop. Her mind wandering as she walked, she considered ringing her girlfriend to check in. Usually, Katherine would be coming with her to Jacobs gatherings - she’d often confided in Sarah and Davey that their family felt more like hers than her own - but her parents had summoned her to entertain their guests with them over the holiday season. Katherine had been livid when she’d gotten off the phone to them. “I don’t see the point of dragging me out there to drink stupid cocktails and talk about stupid things like overpriced hair salons and celebrity chefs with stupid people who have too much money and walk around throwing ingratiating smiles at people who have equally opposite ratios of sense to money, while they all secretly cannot stand to be around each other! Honestly, if this were any other century, they’d have married me off to a Russian noble to secure a trading agreement - as it is, they’re trying to set me up with Bill this Thanksgiving - he warned me that his parents are in on it too - as if I wasn’t a flaming lesbian!“ She’d ranted endlessly to Sarah that morning as they’d packed away her heels and dresses - a far cry from her usual uniform of denim and flannel. “You’ll be comfy and enjoying yourself out in Long Island, and I’ll be trussed up like a turkey, guzzling champagne, trying not to slap someone silly and missing you the whole time in Fort Pullitzer”, she’d joked, pulling Sarah in for a kiss. No, Sarah decided, better to ring Kat later, when pints of cheap champagne had softened her mood and Bill had distracted her from the deepening irritation she felt every time she had to mingle with her parents’ friends and their children - people who Katherine had grown up with, who had known her all their lives - as they liked to remind her. Sarah had met them once, when Katherine’s parents had thrown an elegant dinner party for her twenty first birthday. It had proved to be one of the most uncomfortable nights of her life - she had never encountered a group so possessive of another human being, explaining to Sarah how they’d been in Katherine’s class “All the way since kindergarten”, before asking disinterestedly how long Sarah and her had been friends. Sarah’s only salvation when Kat had been whisked away from her by Mr. and Mrs. Pullitzer had been Bill, a sharply dressed boy with an angelic face and a rainbow pin on his lapel. He’d seemed at once apart from everyone else there, a different kind to the rest of them. “The pin is my version of idiot repellent here”, he’d remarked dryly, snatching her another glass of champagne. “Keeps the straights from hitting on me. Welcome to the Media Magnates Homo Club Inc. You’re our third member so far.” Sarah chuckled as she recalled their conversation - Katherine was in safe hands. An ambulance surged past, dousing Sarah with icy water. With a sharp hiss, she quickened her pace, deafened completely by the insistent thrumming of rain on her umbrella. “Hey!” The shout stopped her in her tracks. A shortish boy lounged in a doorway surrounded by knick knacks and ornaments, his face screwed up in concentration as he struggled to light the cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyes stared out at her from underneath the peak of his hat, dark and alert. His task completed successfully, he clamped the cigarette between his teeth and set about slowly rolling a large urn through the open doorway. “Well don’t just stand there!” he exclaimed. “Help me haul this shit in - you’ll drown out there!” Sarah looked around the shop in awe. She’d have been never guessed a treasure trove like this lay beyond the somewhat rundown exterior. Wandering down the aisle, she gazed, transfixed, at the strange objects she found. Without thinking, her fingers brushed the face of an elegant porcelain doll, its red hair coiffed and curled around its face. “Ahem!” Sarah snatched her fingers away as though she’d been burnt. The source of the noise sat in the very back of the shop, particularly obscured by a large glass case that had been commandeered and used as a counter. Shrouded in colourful shawls, her bony fingers effortlessly knitting with a variety of coloured yarns, sat a wizened old lady. With her piercing eyes and hunched shoulders, there was something almost bird-like about her. “Look, not touch antiques! ”, she pronounced, her lips vanishing into a small pucker as she scowled severely. “Lighten up, Mama Maria - she got caught in the rain, helped me bring in the stock.” Sarah jumped as a heavy hand landed. “Antonio Higgins”, the boy said proudly, offering her his hand. “To friends and so to you, Racetrack. And this”, he declared, “esteemed lady, superb grandmother, proud great-grandmother, and dignified proprietor of Valenti Antiques, is Mama Maria, all the way from Sienna, Italy.” Mrs Valenti laid down her knitting and shuffled over to them. “Ignore my grandson”, she chuckled, reaching up to cuff him playfully on the ear. “You’ve been smoking those dirty things again, haven’t you?” she scolded. “Always puffing, always reeking - when you are my age, then you can start!” “But Mama! They was Coronas!” he protested, planting a kiss on her cheek. Sarah covered her mouth “Silly boy! You have forgotten your manners, to introduce our guest!” Mrs Valenti turned to Sarah expectantly. “Oh!” Sarah exclaimed, not expecting to be drawn into the conversation. “I’m Sarah - Sarah Jacobs”, she stuttered, offering her hand to Mrs Valenti. Taking Sarah by surprise, she clasped Sarah’s hand with both of her own. Her bird-like eyes swept Sarah up and down, resting on her face. A slow smile spread across her face. Racetrack laughed loudly at Sarah’s shock when Mrs Valenti grasped her by the shoulders and planted a light kiss on each cheek. “Mama, not everyone is as Italian as you!” he laughed. “Oh, hush boy! You Americanos have none of the etiquette! Our guest Sarah is soaked, she will freeze in the November here!” Throwing up her hands in exasperation, she marched into the back of the shop, shawls fluttering. Race laughed nervously. “So, that’s my grandma anyway, she’s everyone’s madre. Five minutes and she’ll be back with a tray of tea and a list of questions for asking. Oh also, would you like to change? If you don’t have your own I can fetch you something of my sister’s?” Sarah tapped her bag. “I have my stuff with me… Where can I change?” Race showed Sarah down the passage into the back room. “This is the only room there’s space to turn around in - there’s no light in here though so the door usually stays open…. Don’t worry, I won’t look”, he joked, his back to the her. Feeling slightly self conscious, Sarah began to change out of her wet clothes. “What brings you to this lonely corner of Manhattan?” “My parents live out on Long Island…. Davey was meant to pick me up for Thanksgiving, last I heard from him he was running a bit late”. “Family, huh? Can’t get rid of them when you’re near, can’t get enough of them when you’re far… Life! Is Davey your boyfriend?” A peal of laughter escaped Sarah’s lips. “Davey? Nooo, no! Davey is my brother!” “Oh!” Sarah could hear the sheepishness in his voice. “So, Davey, he’s late for you?” he questioned, recovering swiftly. “Last I heard from him”, she paused to pull on her jeans, “he was half an hour away.” “How long ago was that?” “That was about… Twenty minutes ago now”, she replied, checking her phone as she emerged. Frowning, she stopped in the doorway. You’d say hello to Schrödinger but not me? Displeased. -_- Race watched a smile flashed across her face as her thumbs tapped out a quick message. “Davey onto you?” he asked nonchalantly. “No, I think he’s bringing someone though… Probably why he’s late.” Sarah shut off her phone and smiled at Race. “Could I borrow a plastic bag?” Race bent and rummaged in the drawers of an old fashioned writing desk. Above it, mounted on the wall, was a large collection of old photographs. Many were of a large family, taken over the course of many years as if to immortalise each year of their lives. There were newspaper clippings in Italian and English, photos of a man, smiling for the camera, standing at the desk before her, a cuckoo clock lying open before him. In the centre was a large picture of two Italian-looking men on either side of a young woman - Sarah supposed it must be Mrs Valenti - in front of the shop, taken during brighter times. Feeling as though she was prying into someone else’s life, Sarah directed her attention back to the desk. It looked like a work bench for repairs - a box of tiny cogs and levers nestled in the corner, surrounded by various bits and pieces of watches, clocks, and music boxes, as well as several small screws and washers. On the centre of the desk sat an ancient looking typewriter. Sarah leaned forward, inspecting it more closely. The letters K. PLUMBER were printed on the side. Squinting, Sarah could just about make out “The World” etched in a delicate, curling script below that. Katherine had often expressed how much she’d love to own a typewriter - she’d feel like a true journalist. And Sarah didn’t have her Christmas present yet… “Now, Sarah, some tea? You will want to warm up after outside”, Mrs Valenti called, padding down the stairs at the far end of the passage, accompanied by the sound of clinking. Race emerged and handed Sarah a bag, rushing to take the tray from his grandmother. “Antonio, grazie mille ”, she murmured, following him out to the counter. Sarah hovered, unsure of whether to sit, until Race pulled out one of the two stools and offered it to her. “So, Sarah”, she began. Sarah noticed that she pronounced it Zara , emphasising the consonants. “What brings you here?” Sarah sipped at her tea, spellbound by this seemingly unstoppable old lady. Time had seemed to fly since she’d first sat down, just listening to Mrs Valenti. “I came here in the forties, when there was nothing left for us back home, back in Italia. The place was full of foreigners, escaping the war, the poverty in Europe”, she’d explained, a hint sadness in her voice. “When we came here, we had nothing but us, us and our skills. My husband was - I don’t know the words - he made clocks, before the war. But then…” she spread her hands, a gesture that expressed more than any words could. “We opened this shop when we came here, you know. My husband and his brother and I, they did dealing, buying, I kept books, kept tidy, organised, they talked - their English, far better.” She shook her head sadly. “This used to be famous once. There were people, all day, when it was three of us…. But time takes, and now, only me. Antonio is all I have left.” Sarah smiled at the older woman as her grandson wrapped his arm around her protectively. The two of them were fiercely protective of each other, that much was clear. Without warning, her phone broke the silence, buzzing urgently. Sarah cursed softly. “I’m sorry, my brother -” Maria nodded. “You enjoy Thanksgiving, Sarah”, she smiled. Stepping slightly away, Sarah answered. “Heyyy, whereabouts are you kiddo?” Davey yelled, Schrödinger barking in the background. “Hey Davey", she murmured, wincing slightly. She’d forgotten how loud her brother and his dog could be. “I’m in an antique shop - Valenti’s - down the street. Come in to it, I think you’ll like it in here”. Davey’s words were drowned out by a howl from the back seat. “ SHUT UP FOR A SEC - yeah I’ll be right over - I’ve got a surprise for you though”, he said smugly. “It’s why Schrödinger won’t shut up”. A light jingle heralded Davey’s arrival, followed by a low whistle. Sarah looked around sharply - she knew that whistle anywhere. “David Jacobs, thanks for looking after my sister”, Davey said, shaking hands with Race and Maria. “This is Sean Conlon.” Sarah sidled over to Spot while Davey chatted easily with Maria. “You coming with us to Thanksgiving?” she asked hopefully. He was sporting a new bruise, flourishing just under his jaw. Sarah was under no illusions as to who’d given it to him. “Yeah, he said under his breathe. My old man ain’t been too loving lately”, he spat. Sarah had seen for herself what Mr Conlon was capable of - it was usually her or Davey bandaging him up. The two of them stood side by side, watching Davey converse with Mrs Valenti. He had that laid back charm that made old ladies smile and remark what a nice boy he was as soon as he turned it on. “Hey Spot, did I hear you’ve been harassing my pooch?“ Sarah muttered, seeking to change the subject. Spot knew what she was doing - it was a favourite Jacobs tactic - but he appreciated it nonetheless. “Your “pooch”, as you call him, is well able to look after himself - the only person being harassed in that car was me “, he retorted. Sarah grinned impishly. “Aw, was the great king of Brooklyn defeated by a dog and his toy cat?” Spot’s arm shot around her shoulders, pulling her close enough to ruffle her hair - about the most physical he got with anyone. “You watch out, Sarah Jacobs - I don’t fight girls, but for you I can make an exception!” Spot released her, just in time to see Race’s eyes on the two of them. There was something in his eyes that made Spot uneasy. Longing? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt suddenly protective of Sarah. No puppy-eyed Italian mama’s boy lays a finger on her, he thought, glaring at Race. Race’s heart sank when Spot’s eyes met his. He hadn’t meant to stare - there was something familiar about the other boy, he’d seen him before, but his glare didn’t encourage familiarity. Great, now he thinks I was ogling his girlfriend. He started when Maria tapped him on the back of the hand. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself, Tony?” He looked around, seemingly lost in thought. “Oh - I’m Antonio - Tony - Higgins”, he flustered, shaking hands with Davey. Spot looked at him long and hard before accepting his handshake, his glare never losing its intensity. Up close, it was even more uncomfortable - Race felt as though he were a butterfly, pinned firmly down. Sarah noted with interest that he’d lost all his previous charm and swagger - this was a different Racetrack than the one she’d helped to move stock earlier. “Mama, I forgot to take in the urn”, Race mumbled, like a child begging to be excused. Mrs Valenti beckoned subtly for him to go, then turned her attention back to her guests. David, she had decided, was absolutely lovely - the same manners as his sister, well groomed, a natural conversationalist. She was not so sure about the other boy though - he was no relation of theirs, that she could tell - where they were neat and well turned out, he was casual to the point of untidiness - a large flannel shirt billowed around him, and his hair hung untidily around his face. He had none of their calm aura either - his fingers tapped and fiddled constantly, as if of their own accord. His eyes darted constantly around the shop - not in the way a thief’s would, but a fugitives, as if he was memorising his surroundings with a view to escape. Mrs Valenti saw something in those eyes that awakened a deep sense of unease within her - there was something wild about that hungry, haunted look that she had not seen in many years. She had seen eyes like those, hundreds of them, back home - in the faces of the men who’d returned from the war, their minds forever marked by the terrible things they had seen. No, he could not possibly be family - a friend perhaps? Boyfriend of Sarah? She shook her head slightly. A shame, she decided, when there were plenty nice, straightforward boys like her Antonio. Spot waited until Mrs Valenti was engrossed in conversation with Sarah and Davey before slipping quietly out of the shop. He found Race outside, holding a cigarette with trembling hands. Wordlessly, he pulled out one of his own. The two boys leaned against opposite sides of the doorway, both staring resolutely ahead. Spot took a deep pull, deciding what to do next. “Well Tony”, he drawled. “You and your grandmother seem real close.” * “I guess”, Race shrugged. “I’ve seen you at Sheepeshead”, Spot said suddenly. “You go there every Saturday. You bet whatever money you have with you. You win some, you lose some, but you always make sure to have as much when you leave as when you came in. You walk home alone, in rain you take the Subway. Isn’t that right, Race?” Race nodded, his eyes wide with fear. “I know you, Race”, Spot continued. “I know where to find you. You might know me, you might think you know me, you might recognise me from somewhere - I don’t care. As long a you know that if you ever touch that girl in there, you will never set foot in Brooklyn again. If you lay so much as a finger on her, if you flirt with her, if you LOOK at her the wrong way, Spot Conlon will find out. And God help you when I do”. Race looked at him, aghast. If this was Spot’s reaction to the thought that Race might fancy Sarah, just imagine if he found out…… “Listen, I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea back there”, he stuttered. “But I’m… I wasn’t thinking of Sarah that way.” Spot raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Well it sure looked like that to me”. Race took a shaky pull of his cigarette. “I’m not into girls much… I mean they’re nice but…. Not my thing, I guess. I’m sorry if you thought I was trying to move in on your girlfriend”, he finished lamely, bracing himself. Boys like Spot didn’t, in his experience, take well to his sexuality. He turned slowly, not sure what to expect. Spot stared at him in disbelief, cigarette suspended halfway to his mouth. “You thought… Sarah and I were together?” Race shrugged miserably. “Well yeah. When you came in, putting your arm around her, it looked-” He broke off, silenced by a loud laugh from Spot. “No man, you’ve got it all wrong - Sarah’s - oh wow - Sarah’s like a sister to me!” Spot snorted. “Plus, she’s - she has a girlfriend”. Race blinked in surprise. “You’ve never had feelings for her?” Spot stared at him incredulously. “Look, Racetrack, I swing the other way. Violently. I’m gay as hell!” Spot laughed at Race’s stunned expression. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?” Mrs Valenti looked up in surprise as Race and Spot reentered together. “Sean, I didn’t notice you leave!” she exclaimed. “That’s alright, I was just helping Racetrack with the urn”, Spot replied mildly. Mrs Valenti nodded, pleasantly surprised. She turned back to Sarah. “I’m afraid the typewriter is, right now, unworking. Tony has tried to fix, but, no good. It is old, hard to know”. Sarah nodded. “That’s alright, Mrs Valenti”, she smiled, trying to hide her disappointment. Davey looked at his sister, then at Spot. “Sp- Sean is good at that kind of thing”, he blurted. Spot looked at him, then nodded. “My grandad was good at fixing things… I could try the typewriter, if you’ll let me”, he said slowly. Mrs Valenti took a moment to consider this. “I see no problem”, she said eventually. “Tony, are you happy to work with Sean?” Race’s heart leapt. “Sure, I’d be happy to”, he stammered, reddening. Race waved with Mrs Valenti from the doorway as the car pulled away from them, piled high with bags. He could just about see Spot in the back, almost obscured completely by a large, shaggy black dog. Race couldn't be certain, but he could have sworn Spot was grinning straight at him. His hand drifted down to his pocket, to the slip of paper that had been pressed into his hand as they’d all said goodbye. “Lovely girl, isn’t she?” Mrs Valenti piped up from Race’s shoulder. He mumbled incoherently, nodding slightly. It wasn’t Sarah’s number in his pocket.

#sprace #newsbians #newsies #newsies modern au #sarah jacobs #spot conlon #race higgins #race #davey jacobs #Just another fic

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corbinhunter · 7 years ago

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I wanted to build a foam pirate ship for my 5e D&D campaign but I couldn't find any resources, so I figured it out for myself. The deck has magnets in it to function as a grid. So... here’s a shitty guide (WITH PICTURES) if you want to build one, too.

If you have done this before or have other resources, link them for others who want to try their hand at it (and so I can see). If you have suggestions on how things could be done faster or better, feel free to leave suggestions for future generations. And for me in case I ever build another one. This was my first time doing anything remotely terrain-y or set-piece-y, so I really can't give very good advice. But I couldn't quite find anything that matched what I wanted to build, so I figured this would be worth posting.

The benefits of building a foam boat instead of just buying a model ship or something come down to: a) scale: built it to 1 inch = 5 feet so your minis look good and any other props or grids you have work seamlessly. b) customizability: include the exact things you want in the game. God forbid if your players trash the ship in the game you can alter the model for a shipwreck or something (@ my players: fucking don't, please). c) accessibility: don't include anything you don't want, so the deck is uncluttered and there are no sails or rigging to try to reach around. Also the flat bottom means it doesn't need a stand. The foam construction makes it lightweight. d) magnets: make everything stick to the deck. The actual reason I built this boat. I love the magnets and they were a good choice.

The cons are: a) it's annoying and takes a long time (not too hard, just tedious). b) it's a bit fragile, especially the details and small bits. c) all your minis need an extra base for the magnets. Or I guess you could maybe stick the magnets into existing bases. I'm not an expert or anything.

This is gonna be the shittiest tutorial you've ever read so prepare yourself.

Actual guide:

1: step one is to draw out the boat. Scale is pretty key. Keep in mind that minis can't really fit on anything that's not a full square, so alter the proportions to maximize playable area. I altered the layout as I went to get rid of awkward spaces. Research galleons and frigates. I focused around 17-18th century but the coolest ships come after that. Make a boat that you love with however much realism you prefer.

2: get yourself supplies. You need:

polystyrene foam, about six pieces 10 inches by 24 inches apiece. I got a 96" sheet and used about half of it.

wood glue

paintbrushes, pens, pencils, scissors, utility knives with lots of spare blades, hot glue gun

drywall mud or something similar

wooden dowels, rods, skewers, toothpicks

popsicle sticks in a couple sizes

grid paper for templates

push pins to hold templates

yarn or string that looks like rope

sandpaper

beads (optional, see detail shots)

fridge magnets for embedding into the deck and attaching to the minis

clay to make a figurehead (not pictured) or a Barbie or something

3: trace out the cross sections (floorplans) onto the foam pieces by pinning grid paper to the foam, and cut them out. The curved deck makes this a real pain, because the floor plans don't perfectly map to the foam pieces. The decks are curved but the foam pieces are not. There's a bit of mental gymnastics in this part but you basically cut each foam piece to its widest dimension, then taper, trim and curve it to fit the profile you want after the basic shape is established. I cut everything out just slightly too large so I could trim and adjust it without losing usable space. After you have the top-down profiles correct, start tackling the side-view, which is the deck profile itself. In that picture just about everything is done but the main deck (fore- and aftdeck are nice and curved but the lowest deck is still flat). Pin it in place with toothpicks and glue it together with wood glue overnight. Leave weight on it. Let it dry for like 12+ hours for sure. I messed with it early and popped the aftcastle off, which was extremely annoying.

4: pick it up as one big solid piece and use a knife to slice away inconsistencies and match up the foam pieces better. Then sand it, mud it, let it dry and sand it again. I used lots of mud on the front edge because my cut-out pieces didn't quite match up. Fill up any weird cracks or miscuts that have developed. You can actually get away with adding quite a bit of mass this way. This is the final shaping of the basic form of the boat. Get a bit excited. Up to this point it's a lot of work for basically a big foam block that looks sort of like a boat. But take your time because you can't un-fuck the symmetry later.

5: paint the main deck, then trace a grid out and install one magnet per space. A drill or something would probably do wonders here. I just used a knife and some wood glue. Make sure every magnet has the same side up, and make sure they are pretty flush with the deck. I made bases for the minis out of foam and installed magnets in the bottom similarly. If you're fancy maybe little wooden or metal bases would be cool. Don't put any of the magnets the wrong way -- all the minis are supposed to be attracted to the boat deck so they don't slide around, fall over or get jostled.

6: cut a bunch of floorboards and paint and install them. Take popsicle sticks, slice off the rounded ends, and split them lengthwise with a knife. Paint roughly with one layer of brown to preserve some of the natural wood grain. Then cut them to various sizes -- whatever you think is right. Half of mine were 2", the rest were 1" or 3". Keep scale in mind. If you make them too wide, it'll kill the look. To fit the planks to the curve of the deck, just gently bend them with your fingers. Spread a layer of wood glue on the deck in sections and use your drawn-on gridlines as guides as you place plank by plank. A pattern would be clever. I just stuck whatever fit on. Go around any features like stairs, grates and masts. I left about an eighth of an inch around the perimeter for the railing/barrier later. Make stairs and stick them into the deck, and carve exterior stairs out of foam and glue them in place. Keep that eighth-inch perimeter in mind as you shape the stairs and place them.

7: base coat the rest of the thing. Don't actually put the masts in here because you'll be fighting with them for the rest of the build.

8: add a thin, 3/4-inch barrier around the perimeter and a prow structure. I traced the deck profile roughly onto paper, drew the barrier, cut it out of the paper, tested it on the ship and adjusted as necessary before transferring it to foam and cutting it out. Be really careful with the thickness. Don't slice it in half or break it. Cut cannon-crenelations out as well as the space where the plank goes. I stuck it down by sticking toothpicks straight down through it into the bare deck. This was probably a mistake. It's not sturdy or precise. I added some hot glue here (for the first time in the build) to fill in little cracks and adhere it better. You're on your own for the prow -- make it out of foam in two halves and glue it on. Good luck. If you look at reference you can make a way cooler one than me.

9: make windows, deck rails, a wheel, cannons, grates, swivel guns, and a border that covers the seam between the deck and perimeter railing. The window-frames are each a single piece of foam sliced thinly and wood-glued into position. If you know how, you could make them out of wood. Deck rails are square foam rails top and bottom, joined by toothpick posts. The wheel is foam with toothpicks stuck into it. The cannons are thin wooden dowels with carved foam bases glued together. Adding wheels to the bases would be cool but fragile and tedious. One of the grates is a foam border with toothpick cross-parts and the other one has a wooden frame made from popsicle sticks. Do whatever you prefer. Swivel guns are little foam tubes with toothpicks that attach them to the railing. This allows them to swivel. You could probably make them out of skewers or something instead of foam. The border (red part along the side) helps hide sloppiness between the hull and barrier, and adds some complexity to the shape. You could make it much thinner than I did if you have a steady hand or a wire foam cutter. Or more patience with sandpaper. Real ships have super cool features like this, so use reference and add whatever you can get away with, I guess. This is probably a better time to add the masts. Sharpen them and jam them in or bore holes and glue them.

10: add painted details, "rigging", nets and ropes, as well as anything else you want. I have a longboat hanging off the back of the ship, but you could also place it in the middle of the main deck. The rigging I added is composed of popsicle stick planks stuck to the side of the ship, with painted wooden beads glued onto that. It's not even nearly accurate, but I think it gives the rough impression of the pulleys that are on real boats. I used gold paint for detailing which I definitely recommend. Netting would be cool but I couldn't find a non-intrusive way to add any. Of course oars, buckets, crates, sacks, lanterns and all sorts of other props will look neat. I opted not to add those in order to keep things simple, as we'd just be taking them off or getting annoyed with them during combat. I made a balcony off the back out of popsicle sticks and stuck/glued it on. It's out of scale, but large enough for characters to stand on. Put little ladder boards onto the side of the ship and anywhere else you want them. Up a mast would be cool. Doorframes and square window-frames can be made with planks like the deck. I decided against any sorts of crow's nests or cross-masts to keep things simple and easy to see/reach around. I think more delicately sculpted embellishments would look very cool added on, but could not figure out a decent way to make them. Printing them out on thick paper, cutting them out and glueing those on might do the trick.

That's the whole guide. I would have done a better one but I forgot to take pictures. Feel free to ask questions and I'll do my best to answer.

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melissahappyplace · 6 years ago

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Happy Place: Gayle Graverson

I met her daughter first. It was a warm fall day when I met artist, Jessica Graverson Flores, at her home in Bremen, Indiana. It was a dark, rainy day in early spring when several months later I pulled up to her mom's 1890s farmhouse on 2 acres. Gayle Graverson lives literally a stone’s throw from her daughter, Jessica, where she resides with husband, Terry, of over 40 years. As soon as I saw Gayle, I could see how much she looks like her daughter and when I saw her home, I knew they shared the ability to carefully curate a home that reflects their story and makes guests feel welcome at the same time.

Gayle has lived in Bremen all but 3 years of her life. This is where she raised her 3 children. She loves the country life - the animals, gardening, bird photography, knitting, spinning, collaging and focusing on her spiritual growth as a woman of faith. Now empty nesters, Gayle and her husband have 5 grandchildren and enjoy spending their golden years growing vegetables and running their ever-growing dahlia farm with 40 varieties. They made their old farmhouse into a home over several decades of hard work.

Gayle and I sat down to chat at the candle lit kitchen table specifically bought to fit her whole family for gatherings. Purchased at an Amish auction, this is where her family eats, plays games, and spends quality time together. "We do everything in here around the table," explained Gayle. There is an original, partially open staircase in view from the table where we sat. The red risers and shiplap on the walls are not inspired by HGTV. They are original to the home. A modern staircase around the corner represents the updates Gayle and her husband have made over the years, but along with the contemporary beauty throughout the home are nods to its historic roots. Gayle's home is a balanced reflection of the past and the present in its design and the family that has grown inside it. She explained that her children came down those old stairs on Christmas morning. And as we chat, it’s clear these types of memories are abundantly present in the furniture and decor throughout Gayle's happy place, her kitchen.

When I asked her why this room brings her joy, she explained, "My kitchen has a long story! When we moved into our old farmhouse, there was a small enclosed front porch that led into a dining room with a closet. Through the dining room was a very small galley kitchen that was 5X15. That front porch, closet and dining room have all been turned into my kitchen! It still has the original chimney in it from the dining room and the front door is now my kitchen window overlooking the yard. There have been many remodels over the years. I love my kitchen because it is where our family congregates most of the time. We decided to do the last update hoping it is our last one! Being in a kitchen for 45+ years, I think I was ready to do it right and have everything the way I wanted it. My daughters and daughter in law helped with keeping it updated along with functional. Under all the updates, I can still look at it and feel the original parts of it that are gone but not forgotten."

The framed art by her daughter, Jessica, has been lovingly displayed throughout the kitchen/dining area. Several features of the kitchen put Gayle in mind of her grandma from the grates under the sink to the aprons laying out, her Grandma's actual rolling pin displayed with a recipe on the counter and one of her grandma's spice jars on a kitchen shelf. The black and white cat clock with the roaming eyes makes her think of the one her grandma had. "When I get something, it means something to me" she stated. A Brewer's Mill flour bag is framed above a cabinet in the dining area because, "my grandpa lived next to Brewer's Mill and I would go down there & Mr. Brewer would come out on the porch of the mill and give us candy."

Almost every item in Gayle’s' kitchen holds a memory, a story or reflects what she thinks is beautiful. "When it comes to my home, I do it the way that WE want it. I don't do it for anyone but us because we are the ones living in it. If I need something to put on the wall, I wait until I find the perfect thing. It may take a year or even three years, but I don't decorate my home with anything just to fill in. It must have meaning. I must love it; it must tell me a story and spark a memory. That's why I have a 1935 Magic Chef Stove that I use!" This is the stove that sparked our meeting. In December, Gayle's daughter posted a picture of her mom's kitchen on Facebook. I saw the stove and just knew Gayle was perfect for my Happy Place blog. This antique stove is another nod to the era she loves, but with a conventional stove and microwave nearby allowing her modern convenience.

A balance of the past and present, there is an authentic design found throughout Gayle's home. She loves a cabinet her husband bought her 30 years ago and she is not going to buy something new to replace it just to keep up with fads. Gayle will add modern features through accessories like pillows and other more affordable, easy to remove items: "If the colors are changing, change your pillows...don't change your couch." By sticking with a classic design and easy to remove contemporary touches, she avoids the fad trap. For example, a rustic, antique butcher block counter with a beautiful bowl full of bright red apples serves as her centerpiece kitchen island. By having black granite counters that add a modern feel to the kitchen, Gayle has expertly married the old with the new again.

During our time together, we also discussed why a beautiful space matters. Gayle maintained, "It matters because this is our space, our nest, it's for us. Not to impress anyone else, but just for us, our friends, visitors and family. We want people to feel blessed in our home. We want people to leave feeling warm and welcome. Beauty isn't exactly perfection or cleanliness. It is feeling happy in a home and comfortable. Like you want to stay! Beauty also matters to me as a woman. It makes me feel like I can grab a cup of coffee, curl up my feet and smile because I love my home! It doesn't have to cost a lot. There are many thrift stores and second hand things that can help you create a home of beauty." In fact, Gayle has been known to make her own art or a wreathe for her front door. "Make something yourself and have that self-satisfaction," she suggested.

When your space isn't a happy place for you, Gayle believes there's stress in that and by bringing beauty and order to it you will feel much better: "When your home is like you want it, you're just less stressed. You're happier! If I'm going to be here all the time, I want to love it." On this point, I turn off the voice recorder app and explore the kitchen in more detail with Gayle as my tour guide and inspiration.

In our modern, complicated and sometimes upsetting world, I wonder how many gentle, loving, authentic people are left . . . then I meet someone like Gayle and step away from the stresses of life into her peaceful Happy Place . . . and I know all is not lost. Authentic living still exists! And we can all have the peace found in Gayle's home and kitchen. We can have this by carefully curating our own Happy Place immune to fads and filled with beautiful items that bring us good memories and spark joyful inspiration. Don’t wait until you have the money to create the ‘perfect space.’ Life is too short and too full of challenges to wait to have a space to call your own… a space that calls you home to your Happy Place. Make do with the resources you have. As Gayle said, it doesn’t take a lot of money to create a meaningful, beautiful space. Get creative! Don't wait until the war is over . . . to go home!

More About Gayle . . .

Gayle has a yarn shop, Loft Art Studio, located in the barn on her property. You can learn more about it on Facebook by clicking here. Their dahlias are sold at the Bremen Farmers Market. Click here to find out when its open.

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rochellebuckleyhandmade · 6 years ago

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Trigger Warning: This post may evoke recall of previous traumatic events. If you feel you need to talk to someone please go to Beyond Blue, The Black Dog Institute or Lifeline

Since my last post I’ve received many questions about my accident.

The most common one is asking how can I even look at the photos of the car.

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I don’t recall having any problems looking at it but after I was released from hospital I felt I needed to go to the accident site AND track down the car and see it. Inspect it, look at it all over. Whilst at the accident site, I collected broken, shattered, scorched pieces of the car, including some of the windscreen that I had intended to use to make some art pieces, sculptures to present to the people who saved me. I still have those pieces but I have not as yet been able to create. Time restrictions, not traumatic affects. Why did I do these things? I’m not sure. I just felt it was part of my healing process.

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The above slideshow are some of the photographs I took at the smash repairs. It took me a few days to track down the car and where it was but once I did, my daughter accompanied me to have a look.

The fellow there was fantastic. He was so helpful and took us straight out the back to have a look. He stood with us the whole time, shaking his head and repeating over and over again how he just could not believe I got out of that car and was standing right there in front of him. He gave me paper, pen and clipboard so I could write a list of belongings we could identify from the boot of the car. There were three iPad’s lost in the fire. Two of which were almost brand new. One of those iPad’s belonged to my boss, one to the college I was attending and one was mine that had taken me over two and a half years to save for. There was well over $2,000 of fibre, yarn, needles and dyes in preparation for my class the next day. Nothing within the car was insured. I lost my new spectacles, a brand new pair of Birkenstocks, my $1,600 phone and more. It took me a while to process that these were just things. I am still alive and that is all that matters.

Maybe it wasn’t as hard as it should have been because it wasn’t my car. That right there is the one thing that did trouble me. The car belonged to my former boss and before that it belonged to her beloved Dad who had since passed. That’s what I found the hardest. I thought that maybe, if she was anything like me, that car was one of her last connections to her Dad and that hit me hard. I was so upset for her and I struggled to not blame myself. Even though it was proven that it was just an accident and I was not driving recklessly, irresponsibly or dangerously (which of course I already knew)

That day, I had driven with a colleague to a Red Cross training in Kent St Sydney, some 150kms and over 2 hours drive away in peak hour traffic. My colleague remained in Sydney that night and I returned alone. Thank goodness! It started to rain heavily on the freeway on the way home. It hit hard and bucketed down from about Mt White. Visibility was almost non existent and traffic on the freeway had slowed to about 60kms. The rain didn’t ease until I exited the freeway at Ryhope when it stopped completely. There was no rain but the roads were covered in water. I was driving well below the suggested speed limit, simply because it was so wet and because it wasn’t my car.

I reached a crest in the road where it cambered hard to the left and the back of the car just kept going. I made the mistake of braking hard to try stopping the car from ploughing off the edge of a rather high drop which would have sent me hurtling through a paddock. Once I realised that braking was not the right thing to do, I started pumping the brake in the hope I would gain some control. This must have all happened in seconds. There was nothing more I could do (well that’s what I thought at the time. I just held onto the steering wheel and tried my darnedest to steer the vehicle. ( I know a little more now about how I should have handled a front wheel drive). Before I knew it, I was headed uncontrollably toward that tree. It was so fast and so surreal. I could see the tree focused within a circle of blurriness and literally saw snippets of my life flash before me. I honestly thought I was about to die.

This is my interpretation of what I saw as I hurtled toward that tree

The following is what I posted to my Mothers Facebook two days later.

Spelling and other mistakes have been corrected.

It’s me Rochelle, currently I’m unable to access my fb account since I don’t have access to my phone and security code.

I just want to let my family and friends know that I’m great, I’m still here and I will be discharged from hospital today or tomorrow.

For those who don’t know, I had an horrific car accident at approximately 6pm Wednesday night (25/02/14) on Millar Rd, Wakefield where the car I was driving left the road and wrapped around a gum tree head on. After recognising that I was still alive, I realised I had to get out immediately as the car was on fire. I stopped, took a deep breath and commenced Systema Breathing Techniques as taught to me by my friend Deano Reynolds (thanks Deano :-)) I gained my composure and saw to my right a young girl who had turned the corner in her car and pulled up at the sight of my twisted wreckage. I called out to her to assist me but the poor thing was frozen. I was aware there was broken glass and pieces of shattered gum tree falling onto me through the broken windscreen. There was smoke gently wafting in through the window and it was then that I realised I was trapped. Pinned by my left leg under the dash and steering wheel. I looked to my left and recognised the driveway of Craig and his family, he and his twins are members of the fire brigade that I’m a member of. I started calling out to Craig to help me. After calling out the second time, it dawned on me that he wouldn’t hear me but then, by some miracle he and his boys were standing beside me. “Craig, it’s me”. He didn’t recognise my car as I was driving my bosses car. Craig looked like he went into shock at the realisation it was his colleague trapped in this car. Despite this, he and his boys worked at getting me out of that car and the impending fire. I could see the fire increasing rapidly and I guess, as a firefighter I knew the urgency of needing to be extracted asap. I was in a lot of pain, my neck, chest andback hurt real bad and my hands were not working but it was a case of risking paralysation or burning alive. Craig coached me to get my leg out somehow. I still don’t know how I did. As soon as my leg was released Craig, Josh and Tom extracted me out through the window and carried me across the road. By the time I looked up, the car was involved and the seat I had just been removed from was now alight.

EDIT: I have since found out it was Craig and Jamie who lifted me out whilst the boys did traffic control and helped manage the scene. It was then I remembered the car was on gas. I told Craig there was gas on board and he immediately cleared his boys and other people from the vicinity. From the moment of impact to the time they had me on the side of the road, I reckon would have been no more than 3 minutes. After I was moved in another vehicle, away from the accident, I heard the car explode. (Well that’s what it sounded like, it may have just been the battery).

I need to express my most sincere thanks and highest regard to Craig, Josh and Tom along with Sally. I have absolutely no doubt that if it weren’t for them, I would not be here today to tell my tale. I know they are all incredibly humble and would not like all of the fuss, saying that it’s all part of the job. No it’s not. They looked after me, their colleague and friend, despite the risks and dangers to their own lives and despite themselves going into shock. I owe them my life.

Thank you to all of the onlookers and bystanders for your assistance. Every single person who helped me in some way that day, the paramedics, the police and of course my beautiful Wakefield Rural Fire Service. Thank you for giving me another chance and saving my life.

EDIT: The newspaper article states that Joe from our Brigade arrived in the Cat 1 to help with fire control and vehicle protection. This is what I was told too. I have only recently discovered that it was in fact Killingworth FB. Enormous thanks and gratitude to Killy for your assistance too.

Somehow I remained reasonably calm throughout the entire ordeal. I was just concentrating on my breathing after telling myself I needed to remain calm or I would not get out.

The paramedics arrived and did their thing including taking my blood pressure. They took it again. And again. And again, before reaching for a second sphygmomanometer to take it several more times. The paramedic then asked his colleague to take my blood pressure a couple of times. I remember asking if there was a problem. They told me they didn’t think so and that was the problem. I was asked if I was implementing some sort of relaxation technique and I told them I was. The paramedic told me whatever I was doing, to keep doing it because my blood pressure was perfect and they had never seen anything like it before.

Once I arrived at the hospital, the nurses commenced working on me straight away. They cut my jeans off (and I had wet myself) they refused to cut off my tie dyed jacket because they liked it, they cut off my T-shirt but refused to cut my underware, stating that they understood how hard it was to get good fitting bras. I appreciated that. They too took my blood pressure several times before paging the doctor. He asked if I was implementing any relaxation technique also and could not believe my blood pressure either. It was still giving a perfect reading.

It was short lived though. I broke down when my children and my Mum walked in. They were only informed that I was in hospital but they were not allowed to be informed why or how. That upset me quite a bit.

Not long after I really started to struggle with the pain. The collar I had around my neck was digging in, pulling and hurting terribly. May back was hurting so bad, my neck, my arms, my legs, it just all hurt. I felt like I was going to climb the walls. I could not keep still and I kept getting in trouble for moving around when they still didn’t know if I had any fractures.

X-rays were done, ultra sound and various other tests before I was transported to the ward to commence my recovery. I had much bruising and a huge haematoma that extended from behind my earline, along my jaw, down across my chest, across my rib-cage and wrapped around my back. The x-rays did not show any fractures due to the haematoma covering them it is believed and I did not learn about most of them until almost two weeks later when the pain in my neck, ribs, chest and back were worsening.

I managed to fracture my neck, C5 and C6, my right collarbone, five ribs on my right and a tiny bone in my left ankle, the Talus.

Some of the bruising on my left leg. The haematoma down toward my ankle was showing signs of compartment syndrome.

Pretty bad photo but here I am on the ward, day two, trying to walk again.

If you click on the image below, it will take you to the news article in The Newcastle Herald.

Click HERE to follow the link to the newspaper article

The hardest thing I find now is driving past that spot. I felt I had to drive there the day I was released from hospital. I felt that if I didn’t, I would never drive that road again. That is when I got out, walked the road, walked back through the evidence that was still there and tried to nut out what happened exactly.

It is 15 months since that accident and I still struggle to drive that road, especially in the wet. I have to drive it though, it is the road to our station and the most direct route from home. It is even the most direct route to my sisters home.

If you drive that road now, you can still see the scorched tree and the burnt, melted tarmac on the road. Still to this day, a constant reminder of how very close I came to my last day here on earth.

A friend of mine told me she is beginning to think I am secretly a cat because I seem to have nine lives. It certainly feels like that sometimes.

Was my recovery hard? Damn right it was. Many people commented that I seemed to handle it all so well and heal so fast. In many ways I did not handle it well at all. I cried myself to sleep each night for months. I had nightmares and what they call flash backs and was diagnosed with PTSD. I had this awful, awful sensation every time a car I was travelling in turned a corner. It honestly felt like the car was losing control, the back end was sliding and we were going to lose control again. It didn’t matter who was driving whether it was me, my son, my Parents, my daughter, whoever. I was convinced the car was out of control. Even though it was psychological, it felt so incredibly physical. I would get all sweaty, shaky, my breathing would become rapid and my insides would churn. Sometimes I would even be physically ill and have panic attacks. It was hard. I’m sure I must have stretched the patience of my family. I was so jumpy and edgy around cars. I can’t tell you how I overcame this. I worked with my psychologist regularly and still do. I still struggle to be in a car with someone else driving and I still get anxious when driving in the rain. I’m improving every day and more often than not, I usually forget the whole thing.

The pain was unbearable, even on morphine. More pain on top of my chronic joint pain was just yucky. It hurt to breathe for months, I couldn’t turn over in bed, in fact lying down was incredibly painful. The pain in my neck just did not give up. I begged my doctor to do something. His advice was that it was time to get back on-board the firetruck.

WHAT? Are you serious? How do you think I will be able to climb up into that vehicle?

The very next day, I found myself on-board assisting with storm relief. It would have been about Monday 27th or Tuesday 28th April. Some nine weeks after the accident. It worked. Whether it was the action of pulling myself in and out of that truck all day or whether it was just the fact that I was back out, doing what I love, helping and contributing and gaining my confidence once again. I just don’t know but I have barely had any problems with it since.

I think that is all I have to say.

In all of this, I just want to offer you hope and encouragement to find joy in the small things. I actually had to become more mindful of finding my joy after this event and although it took me months, I find my joy every day.

If you ever find yourself in a sticky situation, remember to remain calm. Utilise whatever technique you can, whether it be relaxation techniques, prayer or Systema Breathing Technique. You can do it!

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