uselessdevice

[uselessdevice]

La Bête, poster giapponese

[uselessdevice]

[uselessdevice]

@hvbris // & VIOLET

The new teacher spoke strangely, but before Leah could put much thought to it, she glanced down at the soft scrape of paper against her desk.

Count Olaf.

Violet's handwriting was shaky, the words scribbled in haste and, no doubt, fear. After everything that she'd already heard about the man, Leah felt a sliver of that fear pierce her heart, blood running cold as she raised her head to look at Violet. And then back to the man at the front of the class, already eagerly dismissing her.

Leah reached out a hand, under the desk, to grab Violet's and squeeze it gently. To silently say I hear you.

And then she whispered softly, so only her friend could hear.

"What do we do?"

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐇 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @uselessdevice

Violet was staring at Count Olaf -because he was, of course, Olaf, and not Professor Ty Prater. That was just another disguise and a poorly made one at that. Leah didn't seem to realize who he was, but Violet could scarcely blame her. She had never seen him before!

With a trembling hand, she wrote on her notebook "Count Olaf" and slid it slowly in Leah's direction. She had no doubt that her new friend was going to believe her.

"Ms. Rigby?" dismissively asked 'Professor Prater'. "Ah, yes, Ms. Rigby! She is perfectly fine. She has decided to take a sabbatical... in the ocean."

Violet raised her hand. "In the ocean?" she asked dryly. Count Olaf clapped his hands. "On the ocean, of course. On a boat. She wanted to study sharks. From really up close." Violet knew what it meant. Ms. Rigby was dead. "I will be your new teacher, now. You can call me Professor Prater. And you should raise your hand before you speak."

"I raised my hand," she replied through gritted teeth.

[uselessdevice]

@lanternlit // & EVER

The subtle tone of concern as Ever spoke again made Leah wave a hand, dismissing the idea that anything was wrong.

"Well of course I sleep! But you know me- I'm up with the larks. Nothin' beats reading in bed for a little while before I have to get ready for the day."

The struggle, of course, was leaving that warm cozy space and the equally warm, cozy world of her book. Leah had never been a late sleeper, even as a child. Though back then she'd had her fair share of nightmares, which meant reading became even more of a comfort when she was stuck laying under tangled sheets, staring at the ceiling. At least she could take her mind elsewhere.

The habit of rising early had stuck. Unfortunately, so had the habit of nightmares. But at least she'd seen plenty a sunrise in her time.

"Heck, Ever, if you ain't youthful, then I'm already doomed." Leah teased back, taking a sip of her own sweet coffee with a curve of her lips. She readily breathed in the fresh air of the park, glad to be free of her work space. The scent of clay could be cloying after a while. But really, she needed to take some space before carrying on with her preliminary sketches.

It was a reconstruction today. A young one. Estimated no more than six years old with no DNA matches in the system. No dental records. A little boy completely lost.

❝ Oh, thank you! ❞    Ever receives her coffee with both hands, as if the plastic cup was a precious treasure. The novel gets tucked into her purse swiftly, the beverage currently more important to her. It’s a simple, black coffee, but sometimes she’s a simple woman: she knows what brew she likes, which coffee shop does it the best, and it’s even more of a treat to have a sit-down with her friend.

❝ Do you  sleep? ❞    She teases.    ❝ I’m pretty sure I have more free time than you do, and I feel like I haven’t read a book in months. Oh, to have youthful energy... ❞    They’re not that far apart in age, of course, but having recently entered her 40s, Ever’s decidedly making at least one age-related joke about herself per week to ward off any creeping anxiety related to the silly notion that being 40 would make her old. So far, it’s been a solid strategy.

❝ Maybe I’ll find something to end the reading slump from your collection, ❞    she agrees. She closes her eyes to smell the coffee, a smile on her lips.    ❝ You know you’re welcome to raid mine whenever. A life’s not complete without an entire bookshelf’s worth of dog-eared mass-market paperbacks. ❞    Her books aren’t on display at her home, but rather cosied up in her bedroom. There’s her living room and the elegant image she maintains there, coffee table books and all, and then there’s her gremlin hoard bedroom where few good friends are allowed. She holds her profession like a badge of honour with zero shame, but her  unkempt Harlequin novels?  Now, there’s a guilty pleasure.

❝ Really, though. I hope you do sleep. ❞    A little more emphatic, even as she’s still smiling. She doesn’t want to directly ask, but with Leah’s job... well, it would be unsurprising if something was affecting her sleep.

[uselessdevice]

@imjustanauthor // & DALLAS

Well, Rufus could hardly blame them for wanting to get the hell outta dodge. He'd come face to face with an extraterrestrial in his youth and he knew the fear it sent right through a person, let alone seeing strange lights in the sky taking an interest in what you were doing.

An eyebrow raised at the suggestion that these mysterious men in black might be feds, however. It wasn't a crazy suggestion. Rufus knew the rumours, had come across them in his UFO research, but he wasn't sure they were truly human. Not that being an alien would prevent being hired by the government, if they were useful...not in his opinion, anyway.

"Could be." He agreed, mulling over the situation. There was every chance it was booby trapped inside. But inside was where the information was. "But this friend of yours managed to go in and out and tell the tale, so I figure we must be in with a chance, right? If a small one."

"No, he didn't stick around. The fella caught sight of UFO once, so he wanted to skedaddle in case they were gunnin' for him."

While Dallas did suspect that the Men in Black weren't after his friend, it wasn't a possibility he could rule out. After all, stranger things had happened, right? And weren't there all sorts of stories of them appearing on the doorsteps of witnesses, saying weird things and threatening anyone involved?

"Might be a trap," Dallas then pointed out, nodding in the direction of the barn to show that he'd returned to that topic of conversation. "It's empty, sure, but they could've rigged somethin' to spook anyone nosin' around. I don't know about you, but I ain't exactly eager to get blown sky-high by some top-secret trap the feds laid out."

Were the Men in Black feds? Potentially. That is what some people said, but there were other stories too.

Dallas was a fed, though. Unfortunately, the irony of him being worried about his own people seemed to be lost on him. It was also lost on him that he was exactly the kind of guy who would be considered a Man in Black but onlookers. While today he was dressed in casual clothes, at work, he was no stranger to a sharp black suit and dark sunglasses.

[uselessdevice]

claude monet, «water lilies», 1908

[uselessdevice]

@hvbris // & ELLIOT

Leah chuckled softly, noticing that he was a little flustered. It was sweet. He was sweet. He always had been.

"Sure I do." She told him, placing a hand on his arm as she passed to head into the bedroom. There were just a couple of things she needed to grab from the bathroom, relieved to see that nothing was out of place. It would have been easy for Chase to tear the place apart.

Her meds were safely in the cabinet where she'd left them. Thank god. Leah grabbed a small bag from the wardrobe and started to pack, not expecting Elliot to shove her underwear or anything personal in his backpack.

With the little grab bag in tow, she went to look for him.

"I figure I've got everything I'll need, just in case. I don't wanna invade your space too long." She added, knowing that he'd let her stay as long as she needed. But everyone needed their own space, right?

Especially Elliot.

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐇 & 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐓 @uselessdevice

When Leah kissed his cheek, Elliot felt like his brain had turned into a blue screen error. I don't know if I'll ever get used to it. I don't know if I'll ever feel like I deserve it. But I hope she never stops.

"Y-yeah, sure. Get everything you need," he replied awkwardly, brushing a hand in his hair before grabbing her stuff and putting it in his bag, much more carefully than he would have done with his own things. "You don't have to thank me, Leah."

[uselessdevice]

— Acrewss

[uselessdevice]

@hvbris // & PRIMROSE

"Ugh, you're just adorable!" Clover replied, managing to resist the urge to pinch the girls cheeks. This sweet little thing who'd pulled every heartstring in the Capitol during her interview had really done it. She'd done it!

It was always exciting when a tribute took out the others in a group, especially when they were an underdog. Younger tributes rarely won. Finnick Odair had been one famous exception years ago now, but now Primrose Everdeen was coming for that crown.

"And I'm not the only one, you know? Everybody here loves you, they're so impressed by what you did in the games. So sneaky! So smart!"

"You're my favorite victor!" Clover for Prim <3

Prim didn't know how to feel about that. She knew Clover meant well, of course. It was a compliment, wasn't it? And yet, it felt like Prim had just swallowed a handful of rocks. She took a sip of her drink -a very sweet and sparkly juice- to help with that nasty feeling in her throat.

"Thank you, Clover," she replied softly, because even the walls had ears in the Capitol, and because she knew better than to reply anything else.

While she loved the dress Cinna had made for her for the occasion, Prim just wanted to rip it off and run back to 12. But this party was for her. Her very own Victory Tour celebration.

"I'm honored."

[uselessdevice]

@imjustanauthor // & DALLAS

In the middle of nowhere, and in the middle of the night, it was easy to see things that didn't add up. According to the brain, of course, that was missing key pieces of information and trying to make up the difference anyway it could.

But seeing as how Lonestar was trustworthy in the weird story department, Rufus had listened to the conundrum, observing the area around them all the while. He peered through the binoculars, unable to see anything that looked out of place. There was the barn, pretty as a postcard. Nothin' unusual about it at all.

"Never hurts to get another pair of eyes on a problem." Rufus answered, having observed more than enough of the outside. If he were to put on his logical hat, as he often did, he reckoned there must be a secret trapdoor. Or some kind of entryway that his fellow agent's friend had missed during their investigation. "We should take another gander at it, see if there's a way they could've left that's tucked out of sight."

The more interesting question was- why? What were they doing here, a trio of strangers? On farmland, no less.

"Did this friend of yours see anythin' else? What were these guys doing before their disappearing act?"

@uselessdevice (@ Rufus, from Dallas)

Contary to popular belief, Dallas was not, in fact, an idiot. Sure, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed either, but he had experience and good instincts and, so far, that had been enough to let him muddle through. For him, spotting the threat was the easy part. Working out what to do next, on the other hand, was where he appreciated some outside input.

Brains weren't exactly something that were common where he came from. There were plently of folk who were smart in their own way, but they weren't what he needed. What Dallas needed was someone who could solve puzzles and connect dots, which was exactly why he'd called the smartest Texan he know - that being Rufus (or Longhorn, if they were going to be formal).

"Now, this ain't something that I saw, but an old friend swears blind that he saw three men in black go into that there barn last night." He motioned in the direction he was talking about, then handed the other man the bincolulars he'd been looking through a moment before. "Here's the thing, though: they never came back out. My friend went to check inside; no sight of them. These guys may be slicker than a boiled onion, but that surely ain't possible, right?"

If it was possible, Dallas certainly couldn't work out how. Rufus could, though. He was bright as a new penny!

"I've already staked out the place. It's still empty, so we can go have a look if you want - unless you have any other ideas already?"

[uselessdevice]

"Sans laisser de traces", regia di Grégoire Vigneron, 2010

[uselessdevice]

@hvbris // & DEIRDRE

Megan sniffled as her sister held her, feeling like a little kid. She hadn't known Deirdre when she was small, but sometimes it felt like they'd known eachother forever. They might have their differences, sure.

But she knew Deirdre always had her back.

"Thank you." She whispered, hugging her tightly for a moment. "Whatever you think I should do, I'll do it. Just...tell me how to get through this. How do I go on that stage without passing out?"

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐍 & 𝐃𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐄 @uselessdevice

“You let me worry about mom, okay?” she replied, perhaps more abruptly than she should have. She wasn’t angry at Megan, she just hated their mother more than anything. Using her daughters like fucking cannon fodder, climbing on their shoulders to rise up the social ladder.

Fucking bitch.

“Hey, hey, shhh, calm down.” Her voice was gentle again, and she pulled her little sister into a hug. “Caesar’s a super cool guy, he’s so nice and everything, you’ll see. And you’re not alone, I’m here, remember? We’ll find you an angle, and people are going to love you.”

“I think you’re amazing, and I’m gonna make sure everyone else can see that too.”

Megan would have sponsors no matter what. Deirdre knew exactly how to get her sister’s sponsors. The men here were eating out of her hand, as long as she spent a night in their arms. Anything to make sure Megan would survive the games as unscathed as possible. It’s alright, thought Deirdre, I’m already broken anyway.

[uselessdevice]

Praying is not a way to get what you want. Prayer is the extension of your soul into the world and beyond. To pray is to surrender yourself to the mystery of the divine, and to open yourself to a response you may never have anticipated or wanted. Prayer is an act of humility and acknowledgement that we are part of an infinite cycle centred not on us, but on God. We join with the prayers of those who came before us and those who are yet to come. Our prayers live on even when we have ceased to be. In a way, to pray is to become eternal.

[uselessdevice]

Léa Seydoux in The Beast (2023) dir. Bertrand Bonello

[uselessdevice]

@hvbris // & EFFIE

God, this was humiliating. The girl wondered if it were possible to throw herself from the train. But this was only the start, and she knew it. Once they got to the Capitol she wouldn't be able to breathe without being supervised, scrutinised, judged.

Saros tried her best not to frown, having already been scolded for that. She did as she was told, trying to imagine a stupid china cup on her head, keeping her neck straight. It was so unnatural. But everything she'd ever seen about the Capitol on the broadcast screens was unnatural.

She walked to the end of the carriage, turned on her heel, and walked back, trying to keep her back ridiculously straight. But it felt all wrong. She felt stiff, like a mannequin.

"Dainty enough for you?"

𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐒 & 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐄​ @uselessdevice​

“Don’t be quite so literal, dear,” huffed Effie, still turning around Saros to fix her posture, “no one has an actual teacup on their head, it’s an image. Picture you are holding something fragile on top of your head. If you move too abruptly, or don’t stand straight, it’ll fall and break.” She was unceremoniously placing her hand on Saros’ shoulders, neck and chin.

“Here, much better.” It was still a work in progress! And Effie was nothing if not ambitious. But she had a vision for her tribute now, and she would make that vision come true. 

“Oh, it’s just practice, you’ll learn,” she assured Saros, and her words held the promise of a next lesson: how to walk in heels. Still, she looked happy that the girl had noticed how skilled she was in those shoes!

Slightly pushing Saros’ shoulders away, she exclaimed: “Now, walk to the end of the wagon, and come back. And watch that chin!”

[uselessdevice]

@hvbris // & VIOLET

Before Leah could ask what a herpetologist was, the classroom door opened and the murmur of students around them seemed to hush briefly.

All eyes were on the strange looking man that entered instead of their usual teacher. And the longer she looked at him, the more Leah got a strange, creeping feeling...

Despite that, she raised her hand and spoke the question on everyone's minds.

"Excuse me, Professor- what happened to Ms Rigby?"

Their usual teacher was an older woman, with short red hair, horn rimmed glasses and a persistent aroma of heavy perfume. A stern but fair woman, and one who rarely ever took a sick day.

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐇 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @uselessdevice

Violet's smile widened. "Thank you, Leah. I really appreciate it." She was hopeful that the girl would indeed see right through Olaf's disguises. For one, she was not an adult. "He's quite recognizable. He has only one long eyebrow and a tattoo of an eye on his ankle. He always finds ridiculous ways to hide them, but... I never find them convincing."

"I suppose so," she said, unconvinced, "but my other guardians were a herpetologist and a specialist of grammar, and he still fooled them both."

As she finished her sentence, the classroom door opened abruptly, and the teacher walked inside. Her face fell. Violet was familiar with the sentence "speak of the Devil and he will appear," an expression used when someone one has been talking about unexpectedly appeared. In that instance, the Devil was Count Olaf -which was fitting.

He was, of course, wearing a disguise. His single eyebrow was hidden behind thick glasses, and so far his tattoo was covered by tweed pants. The ensemble was completed by a tweed jacket and a shirt. He was also wearing a wig. But Violet knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that he was Count Olaf.

"Hello, hello, hello, children," he said, though he had switched his usually nasty tone for something posh -as if he was pretending to be British. "My name is Professor Ty Prater."

[uselessdevice]

@hvbris // & VIOLET

Eyebrows raised, trying to picture this bizarre man blustering his way through a conversation with another adult. It even would have been funny, if his intentions weren't so dark.

"Well, he ain't gonna fool me. If I see anybody suspicious round here sniffin' after you, better believe I'll holler." Leah told her, offering whatever reassurance she could. Another pair of eyes on guard couldn't hurt, right?

"And besides- your new guardian is a doctor, right? He's gotta be smarter than the people who were lookin' after you before."

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐇 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @uselessdevice

"Apparently so," said Violet, who was just as baffled as Leah that such a man could be a Count, "that's how he introduces himself, at least. But his manor was derelict and disgusting. No matter how much we tried to clean it, it always looked like an abandoned house. He kept saying that he was going to use our parents' fortune to repair the house. I think he was destitute."

She smiled, relieved that Leah was not judging her for her harsh words, and in fact, even agreed with her. "His disguises are not even good," she continued, "he will hide his ankle tattoo with makeup, and somehow convince every adult around us. One time he even wore a fake peg leg. And he always uses to most horrendous accents."