#i miss my dishes and my crafts and my clothes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pianokantzart · 10 months

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I lied. You get THREE chapters of my original story (about 4k words under the cut):

Chapter 1.

Once upon a time there was an old couple that lived in a cottage on the furthest edge of their isolated village within a stones throw of an ancient forest. Behind their home they grew a patch of cabbages they gathered and sold in the fall, and in their front yard they tended a garden of flowers that they cut and sold in the spring. To make ends meet Escrit, the man of the house, worked as a woodcarver while his wife, Realia, worked as a seamstress, spending many an hour repairing, patching, and embroidering whatever was handed to her. When time allowed Escrit and Realia combined their talents to create the most beautiful little toys; for they were without child, and had longed for one since the day they were wed.

Dollhouses, rocking horses, pull toys, tiny sailboats, wooden soldiers, and all sorts of lovingly crafted treasures were stacked high in an unused bedroom, kept clean and carefully dusted in ever-present hope. Many visitors observed the toys with great admiration, sometimes wishing to buy them, but the old couple were loath to part with their creations. Only at Christmas did they make an exception, when they handed out toys to the poorer village children.

As time wore on, Realia took up the habit of placing dolls they made in the window sill, each dressed in their most beautiful gowns so that passersby may note her sewing skills and commission her. One morning Realia awoke to find one of the little dolls robbed of a pretty yellow sundress, and upon examining the doll she was surprised to discover a lovely scarlet ribbon had been tied around her golden hair of straw.

Confused, but pleased to be in possession of such a pretty little ribbon in such a rare and vibrant color, the old woman redressed the doll and placed it back on the window sill while dropping the glittering gift in her own pocket. The next morning two more dolls were stripped of their clothes, one with a silver chain around their wrist while the other bore miniature golden rings on each of her fingers.

Realia went to Escrit with the gifts in hand. She explained the situation and asked for his thoughts on the matter, for he was a man of the woods, well versed in many strange things.

“No doubt something from the forest has taken a liking to your sewing,” he said, lifting the little crimson ribbon in his calloused fingers, “But I suspect they’re friendly if they pay you out of their own volition. Keep an eye on what dresses they like and try to tailor their tastes. I will leave food upon the table to let them know they are welcome.”

And so Realia stayed up a little later each night, sewing dresses to replace every one that went missing while the woodcarver left little meals in the kitchen. She learned that the mysterious visitors preferred dresses of bright colors, loose and flowing, never touching anything in shades of grey or brown, nor anything with tight corsets or buttoned collars. Meanwhile, Escrit discovered that while buttered toast and cups of brandy were only lightly nibbled or sipped, saucers of thick cream and berries were eagerly devoured. Honey proved to be a favorite, and whenever he could get ahold of it he put a little dollop on whatever morsels he left out.

Little bits of treasure continued to show up on the dolls, while household luck took a turn for the better. The cupboard moths and mice disappeared, and the slugs that they had struggled to keep off their garden seemed to all at once lose their taste for cabbage and violets. All the flowers they had seeded bloomed more vibrantly than ever before, and costumers wondered aloud what rich, dark soil laid beneath their cottage to create such incredible colors.

One fair evening, when the moon was full and a bout of warm weather allowed the old couple to leave their window shutters wide open, Escrit stood in the kitchen pouring a fresh dish of cream while his wife sat in the rocking chair by the fireplace, adding the final stitches to a doll’s pea green apron dress. Suddenly, a great flock of magpies soared in from the open window, carrying behind them a float of bluebells and gardenias upon which sat a beautiful fae. Her grand wings, the points of her ears, and the slight lilt to her eyes gave little doubt to her species, but she was far larger than any fae either of them had ever heard of, standing as tall as a two year old child despite being a grown woman in face and figure.

“Ah! The dressmakers!” The fae declared as her chariot slowed to a halt. She sprung to her feet, and the old couple looked upon her in wide-eyed wonder.

“Who are you?” Escrit asked at length. The fae let out a jolly laugh, laying a pearl-white hand upon her chest. “Me? Me!? Why, I am the queen of the fae! And I suggest you kneel and ask forgiveness for asking stupid questions, before I call upon the birds to pluck out your eyes!”

Despite the violence of the threat, her tone was so jovial that it was hard to tell if she was being sincere. Escrit and his wife knelt anyway, for the suggestion of a royal was rarely something to be disregarded.

“A thousand pardons,” Realia said with an extra bow of her head, “we just never expected our humble home to be blessed with the presence of a queen.”

“Well you should have! I had no choice, given you continue to make nothing that fits my size.” The fae queen stomped a little bare foot upon the floorboards. “It is not fair! All of my subjects keep appearing before me in adorable little dresses, and yet I have none for myself!”

And so it was. Beneath her little crown of daisies, a gown of chestnut leaves and bluestem grass clung precariously to her body by spiderweb seams. The whole attire– thrown together for sake of formality – was already on the verge of falling apart.

“We never before needed clothes, so none of us know a thing about sewing.” The fae queen explained, “But the moment your dresses were spotted in the window and carried to the fen, my subjects couldn’t talk about anything else, and yet I alone could not have any part of their fun!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend for you to feel neglected.” The old seamstress apologized, “I could make something your size if you wish. Just tell me what sort of dress you would like, and I will get to work right away.”

The Fae queen smiled wide, her giant blue eyes shimmering until they almost glowed.

“Oh! My dress must be elegant, yet grandiose! With a long train and a tall collar!” She declared, “It must be a purple so deep that it makes the cornflowers look grey! It must be stitched and embroidered with thread of pure silver, so I may shine as bright as the stars!”

Realia was silent for a moment. She wrung her hands, then spoke again.

“Begging your pardon, your majesty. I would like nothing more than to make you a gown so beautiful, but the only ones who can create purple cloth are the royal dressmakers, and I doubt they would sell the dye to a commoner. Moreover, I have never heard of a workable thread made of pure silver, I don’t even begin to know where to get it or how one would make it!”

But the fairy queen would hear none of it. Giving another stomp, she cried out.

“It must be! It must be! I must have the entire forest enchanted by the beauty, wealth, and purity, represented by my gown. Since it is the beginning of May, I’ll give you until the end of September. Finish by then, and I will happily grant you any wish your heart desires!”

At this, the woodcutter and his wife looked at each other with knowing eyes, silently agreeing on the same desire that had plagued their every waking moment since the day they wed.

“If your are certain you can grant any wish,” Escrit began, “My wife and I have been trying for a child for some time–”

“Oh, that old ask!” The fae queen interrupted with a giggle, waving her hand dismissively. “Yes yes. If you make the dress to my liking, you will have your baby.”

So it was done. Realia took the fae queen’s measurements while her husband fed the royal magpies from sacks of barley grain. Then, the queen left the way she came in a flutter of sparks, so sudden that the couple may have thought it nothing but a dream had it not been for the piles of petals and feathers she had left on the floor in her wake.

Chapter 2.

When morning broke the next day Escrit dressed in his sturdiest clothes, packed a sack of supplies, gave Realiah a kiss, and set off on his journey with many tears and goodbyes between them. He moved Northward at a hurried pace, and when the sunset fell he set up camp at the roadside and slept deeply until the next day. At dawn he took to the road with an aching back, but marched on through the forest that only grew denser by the time night fell again. On the third day he marched along with a growing homesickness. He spoke with whatever animal crossed his path in hopes of finding company– but the squirrels and sparrows that happened his way dared not linger long at the roadside, bidding him farewell as soon as he said “hello.” At length, Escrit was greatly pleased to come across the lone figure of a man just off the path, gathering firewood in a grassy clearing. “Hello!” Escrit hailed, “How much further to the next town?”

The stranger stood up and turned to face him. The man was dressed in a robe of goat’s hair, and bore a long untrimmed beard that hung down to his waist. He placed a finger against his lips, signaling his unwillingness to speak, but signed a blessing over Escrit as he walked past. Escrit quickly recognized the man as a hermit, and though it was a great disappointment he dared not talk to him further in honor of his vow of silence.

Later on, Escrit considered the brief glimpse of human life, and decided to veer off of the winding path and forge straight north through the trees, hoping to reconnect to the path further along. But the dense forest was nothing like the open oaks that surrounded his little cottage at home, and the hostile brambles both slowed his steps and twisted him around in all directions. By the time the sun was starting to set Escrit was hopelessly lost.

Forlorn, he sat down upon a fallen log, placed his head in his hands, and wondered what to do.

“You best getta’ move on old one!” Chittered a voice from the canopy. Escrit looked up to see a barn swallow in a nearby tree. “Night’s gettin’ on.” The swallow called, “You best head back to your home before the wolves come ‘round.”

“I would if that were possible.” The Woodcarver admitted, “For the past three nights I have camped by the road where the wolves rarely venture, but I left the path some time back. Now I have no option but to find a safe place to hide myself away until morning.”

The barn swallow curiously cocked her little head.

“Poor, silly man.” She tittered “What took ya’ down that long road to begin with?”

“My wife has been commissioned by the fae queen to make her a dress.” Escrit explained, “Her highness wants a gown of purple fabric, sewn and embroidered with silver thread. There are no such materials where I live, so I am traveling to the capital in hopes of finding everything she needs.”

“Hmm, well, I don’t know anythin’ about fabrics.” The swallow admitted, “but I have nested in the porch ceilin’ of an old hut, and in the window I happen to spot the homeowner spinnin’ silver into spools of thread.”

With that, the barn swallow leapt from its perch and flitted from bow to bow, heading deeper into the woods. “Follow me, traveler, seein’ as I’m heading home anyways,” it called over its shoulder. “That hut should at least serve as a shelter from the wolves.”

Escrit plucked up his pack and hurried after the bird. He weaved through undergrowth, the barn swallow pausing every few moments to allow the old man to catch up until the two broke from the line of trees into a clearing beneath a broad orange sky, where a rickety gate surrounded a swath of land, and at its center sat the promised thatch hut with a jagged, smoking chimney stretching up toward the sky. The barn swallow chirped proudly, then darted forward out of sight to return to her nest. The Woodcarver carefully creaked the gate open. He tiptoed along, wishing to call out to the homeowner, but an innate fear gripped his heart and held his tongue with each new oddity he spied. Every tree within the fence-line was long dead and all covered in frowning poppets, held to the bark by headless pins. The only signs of life were the henbane, hogweed, and nightshade that grew in wild clumps along the path toward the hut, and the black beetles that scuttled about until a wicked cackle rang through the air, followed by a wind that smelled of sulfur and rot. Nearly knocked off of his feet, Escrit looked skyward as a witch rode through the air atop a broomstick. He turned and tried to run, but the enchanted broom overtook him with the speed of lightning, a bony hand plucked him by the shirt collar with a grip of iron, and he was carried through the air and hung up on a long, black tree branch. “Who goes? The devil knows!” The Witch laughed as she dismounted, tickled by the sight of her dangling captive. She sniffed the air with a needly nose, and grimaced a mouth of corn-yellow teeth. “It is neither little boy, nor little girl, but an old man! What good does he serve except as a bit of meat to add to a cooking pot!”

Escrit shook in terror, writhing in his effort to free himself from the tree branch. “Please don’t eat me!” He pled, “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I am a skilled woodcarver. I will gladly build you whatever you like if you will only spare my life.”

The Witch examined The Woodcarver up and down, her hungry expression pinching into one of thought.

“Ah, then providence brings you to my doorstep!” she said. “Count yourself lucky that your talents are specific to my wishes, or I would make a broth of your bones.” The witch clapped her hands. The branch that held The Woodcarver snapped, dropping him to the ground. Before he could recover himself The Witch took his arm with the speed of a spirit and wrapped a length of thistles around his wrist. The moment the plant’s thorns dug into his skin The Woodcarver felt himself shrink. His teeth shifted and grew, the hair of his body thickened and spread, and next he knew he was no longer a woodcarver at all, but a scraggly beaver.

“What is this?” Escrit asked, looking himself over with wide eyes. “What good can I be to you as a beaver?” The Witch didn’t answer at first. She grabbed him by his tail and lifted him from the ground, staring into his face with flashing eyes as she spoke an enchantment:

“I am Dirga of the deep dark wood. I spare no bed, I share no food. While the sun still lights the day, you may wander where you may to dig and forage, hunt and feast– the same as any wild beast. But when darkness falls across the land, you’ll once again become a man and if you still roam about at night, or if you dare speak of your plight your flesh of thorns will round you rend, to halt your heart and mark your end.”

As she spoke the final line, The Witch ran a long yellow fingernail over the enchanted thistles still clinging to The Beaver’s wrist, marking her threat.

Dirga carried Escrit to a rickety shed behind her hut, and flung the door open. In one corner was a large table bearing a whittling knife, a chisel, and an old oil lamp. In the opposite corner was a large pile of little wooden statuettes, all shoddily carved and barely comprehensible, bearing strange shapes with long snouts and spiny tails. Before Escrit could question the strange carvings, The Witch asked a question of her own as she tossed the beaver carelessly onto a pile of ash-wood trimmings and sawdust.

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” Escrit shook his furry little head as he collected himself. “No. Never.”

“There is a dragon who reigns at the eastern bay who I wish to seize by force.” Dirga continued, “There are many a man I can control with a simple cloth doll, but dragons are a far different breed that require a perfect recreation. To control one would be a power most sublime! So carve me a statue in the dragon’s likeness, and if it works as my poppet I shall remove my thistles and set you free.”

“But I know nothing about either dragons or poppets!” Escrit pled. “This is the price of your life. Take it or leave it. You have until the end of the month to please me, or I dine on Boiled Acorns and Beaver Tail.” With that, the final thread of golden light disappeared over the horizon, and The Woodcarver felt his bones stretch and his fur shrink as he returned to his human form. Dirga did not need to even glance back to ensure her charms worked, but simply slipped out of the shed and locked the door behind her, leaving the old man to his tools.

Chapter. 3

By night The Woodcarver kept to the rickety shed, squinting in the light of the oil lamp as he carefully carved away at blocks of ash wood, trying to piece together a dragon’s image from childhood tales and the vague songs of passing minstrels. Whenever he declared a carving finished, Dirga would tie one of her thistles around its neck and stare eagerly into the dragon’s face with her beady black eyes. The results were never to her liking. Every failed carving caused her to fly into violent rage, spitting and screeching as she bashed the wooden dragon into splinters.

“And what if, by some miracle, I succeed in recreating the beast?” Escrit asked himself as he returned to the shed, sitting back down upon his heap of wood shavings and starting over again, “Even if The Witch keeps her word, how could I contend with granting that wicked woman dominion over a dragon?”

The sunlit hours were far kinder to him, even though he was a beaver all throughout. He often wandered to a nearby brook where clovers and crabapples grew, and his mind always returned home. He often worried about how his wife fared, and the idea of her waiting endlessly at the window of their old cottage inspired him to persevere as he inquired with the other animals about what all they knew about the dragon that resided at the eastern bay. The Crow said it flew through the air on great leathery wings. The Mole said that it dug through rock and slithered across the ground on its belly. The Porcupine said it was spiny and stout. The Water Rat said it was smooth and scrawny. The Rabbit shuddered and ran to its burrow at the mere mention of dragons, while The Badger tutted and advised all who would listen to turn their minds to more wholesome things.

“Don’t ya’ mind them.” Called a little voice from the trees, “In these lands, the smartest animal knows less about dragons than the dumbest man.” The Beaver looked up, and there was the barn swallow, pecking at cherries in a tart tree. Amidst his troubles he had nearly forgotten the little bird altogether, and now he wondered whether or not they– being at fault for his current trial– were in cahoots with the witch.

“Little swallow!” He called, “Do you recognize me?”

“I do!” It answered back, “Though ya’ are a good deal smaller and furrier than ya’ were.”

“Then you owe me an apology, if there is enough goodness within you to grant me one.”

“I apologize for your situation, if that counts for anything.” Escrit huffed, “It does not.” “But you are not within the stomach of a wolf, and that is somethin’ to be thankful for.”

“I would rather be the dinner of a wolf than the pawn of a witch.”

The barn swallow let loose a sharp chirp and bounced excitedly upon her branch.

“Careful, careful! Do not speak of your situation, even to one as little as me.” She hushed “Do not forget the nettles!”

So it was, for even as Escrit had begun speaking of his sorrows he felt the pinprick of the thorns creep upward along his arm toward his heart. He held his tongue, and the pain subsided, contented with his obedience.

“Do not die now, you have not yet seen The Witch spin her silver thread!” The Barn Swallow tittered, “Tonight! Tonight! Come to the hut and look inside, but take care not to touch the door, walls, or window frames, for they are enchanted to strike down anything that dares draw near without her bidding.”

Before Escrit could inquire any further, the little bird took a couple of cherries in her beak and disappeared once more into the leafy canopy.

That evening, Escrit returned to The Witch’s yard. Once the sun set and he became human once more, he quietly crept from the woodshed to the glowing window of Dirga’s abode, wondering if he was a fool to dare take the swallow's advice a second time. He kept low to the ground to avoid detection, taking care not to brush against any part of the hut. Looking in he saw a large round room filled with all the trappings of the forbidden arts: bottles, herb bundles, jars of animal parts, and long ropes of thistles hung up to dry. In the center of it all was The Witch at a spinning wheel. Glittering rocks rested upon her lap as she gently tugged at the beautiful silver thread, building upon the bobbin until its starlike glow filled the room.

But The Witch was not the only member of the household. In one candlelit corner, where a cauldron and a kitchenette sat, a little girl no older than ten swept the floor. Her brown hair and grey clothes were ragged with cinders and sweat, but her little face was bright with an odd cheeriness as she tossed the contents of her dustpan out the door, leaned the broom against the wall, draped a towel over her hands, and pulled a piping hot pie from the oven. She set upon the stovetop to cool, filling the hut with the smell of baked cherries.

Escrit found his gaze fixed the little girl with a far greater curiosity than with the mystical silver thread. As the child waved a towel over the pie to help it cool, she looked up to lock her gaze with Escrit, and before he could duck his head any lower he recognized the little dark brown eyes that glinted like the glass-black gaze of a bird.

Then the rattling of the spinning wheel stopped. Escrit carefully buried himself deep into the prickly branches of the dead bush as The Witch stood up from the spinning wheel, and tied the end of silver thread around her thumb.

“Rekindle the fire in the chimney, child,” she commanded. The girl obediently glided to the fireplace of black stone and began building the flames back up from the smoldering coals.

While she worked, Dirga conducted her spell: she paced her hut three times, pulling the silver thread longer and longer until it was taught against the bobbin. Then she doubled back to her bundles of strange-smelling herbs hanging from the wall, and picked out one tied together with a black ribbon to carry back to the fireplace, now filled with a roaring orange flame.

Dirga threw the bundle on the fire. As it crackled the child lost her blithe cheer, fleeing to the far corner of the room where she crouched down and buried her face in her arms to shield herself from the red smoke that began to fill the room. The Witch chanted a strange incantation as the smoke engulfed her, her voice growing steadily louder and more shrill until a second voice called back from the fireplace, horrifying and incomprehensible. Escrit, sensing the risk he was taking had suddenly crossed over into a world of cosmic peril, backed silently from his hiding place. He crept back to the woodshed, holding his breath for fear of making the slightest sound, only daring to breathe once he was safely closed in amongst the tools and the ash wood. He sat on the floor, jittery and wide-eyed all throughout the night with nothing to comfort him but the murmuring of prayers, and the cold wooden eyes of a half-dozen unfinished dragons.

#original work #original story #anyways I'm a big BIG fan of old fairytales if you couldn't tell #this story is about 10k words in total so far and I'm about 1/3 of the way through the tale #... I think... things always get longer the more I work on them

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total-drama-takes-takes-2 · 1 year

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tta episode 10

“Last time, on Total Takes Action: our remaining contestants competed in a detective noir themed challenge to uncover a secret traitor within their very midst. Scary went bananas… again, and Scruffy got served a heaping dish of steaming hot reality. O was accused of the crime, but it was Max’s secret detective skills that pulled through and uncovered the real imposter… Fren! Or should I say Alistair, award-winning theater actor? Unfortunately for him, the Gilded Chris was not an award he won, and he was sent off the silver screen and back to the stage. Is anyone who they say they are? Find out now, on Total! Takes! Action!”

The craft services tent is dreary and quiet today, not a hint of conversation or comradery between the remaining contestants.

Scruffy is seated far away from Scary, jogging in place in the corner of the tent. Scary is ignoring them, flipping through their notes and making additions and addendums. Max is reading something, his brow furrowed in concentration, O is busy spooning the morning breakfast slop, and Peter is sitting awkwardly by himself on the vacant end of the table.

---

PETER: “Ever since Fren- sorry, I mean Al- left, it’s been dead quiet around here. Everyone left hates each other! Not only that, but since my last friend left the island… I’ve been completely alone.. I think this might be the first time I've spoken out loud in a week!”

---

O coughs. Scary wipes her nose on her lab coat sleeve. Peter looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel.

Finally, the intercom crackles, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Goooood morning, campers! If you’ll all join me in front of the craft services tent, we have a special treat for you today!”

Scruffy raises an eyebrow. “But- our next challenge is supposed to be-”

“Don't wet yourselves with terror just yet- this is not a challenge! Just for fun! And ratings!”

Scary rolls her eyes and snaps her notebook shut, walking outside with the rest of the cast. Only Scruffy lags behind, apparently disturbed by the sudden change in structure.

"Do you really believe it's going to be nothing?" Peter asks Scruffy, tailing alongside them.

"Um... I guess... I mean, Chris works by a schedule, but he can be pretty unpredictable," the neon lime wonders aloud. "Maybe he'll invite us to a cozy dinner and drug us, and we'll wake back up on the island..."

Scruffy sighs dreamily while Peter quivers in terror.

---

SCRUFFY: "I haven't been on top of my game this season, and it's really making me miss the island. At least then I could predict what was coming... now, it's like Russian roulette with a fully-loaded barrel!"

---

Chris is standing with an unfamiliar camera crew right outside of the tent, chatting about shot lists and lighting. As the campers shuffle outside, he turns with a big smile. He’s wearing an odd pair of square glasses and a beret today.

“Good morning, treasured and beloved children,” Chris speaks in a pleasant, soft tone. Behind him is a massive buffet loaded with every breakfast food imaginable- eggs, toast, bacon, pancakes and waffles of every variation, croissants, jams and butters and chocolate spreads, with pitchers of fresh squeezed orange juice lining the table-cloth covered surface. Chef is at one end of the buffet, setting down tiny plates and toothpicks, covered in bacon grease and sweat. “Did you all sleep well? Ready to enjoy your nutritious breakfast?”

The campers halt, looking between each other as if no one is quite sure if this is a mirage or not, like an oasis on the desert. Scruffy silently pumps their fist in the back.

Finally- “Did you hit your head or what?” Max asks bluntly.

The host chuckles back. “Of course not,” he turns to the crew behind him. “The children get three vitamin-packed, nutritious meals every day. We have our own personal chef on standby, so everything is made fresh.”

Chef waves from the end of the table, little flecks of bacon grease flying off his fingers.

“I’m pretty sure there was a cockroach in the oatmeal this morning,” O mumbles to Max. He nods.

Chris looks back to the campers. “Today we have a very special treat for you all. I’ve canceled the mindfulness and meditation, so you all better give your full attention to the very nice people from Reality, Weekly,”

Scruffy gasps. The campers look between each other, still in a shocked silence, now even more confused than before. Finally, Scary clears his throat. "Um, who?"

"WHO?!" Scruffy shouts from behind them, right into her ear. She claps her hands around her head and glares.

---

SCRUFFY: “Reality Weekly?! THE Reality Weekly?! North America and selective European countries’ number one reality TV gossip mag?! THEY RAN THE DUNCNEY VS. GWUNCAN STORY FOR YEARS! This is the most exciting day of my life, oh my God- I was right, staying in the game is WAY more important than 50 million dollars!”

---

“Can we get Nadie on set?” a stagehand yells. Two production assistants set up some chairs inside the trailers as the cast looks on.

"Make sure to be veeeery nice for the lovely television producers, and I'll see you all at your gourmet dinner tonight," Chris clasps his hands together and strains his words, trying to convey one thing to the remaining campers- behave. "Anyone who doesn't want to participate will see Chef in the, um... meditation tent."

The campers turn to see Chef sharpening a fish hook by the buffet. Chris wishes them good luck and walks off with a few sharply-dressed producers.

"This is such [CENSORED]," Scary sighs.

"I knew it was a challenge..." Peter grumbles, taking a seat on the grass by the buffet table and dejectedly peeling an orange.

"Does this mean we're not getting drugged?" Scruffy pouts. "No matter- I've been preparing for my Reality, Weekly interview since I was six years old!"

They take a seat next to Peter, crossing their legs and smiling. "I used to practice in front of the mirror before school- of course, in those interviews, I was giving my winner's speech... but this is alright, too,"

Peter splits the orange in half and gives one handful of slices to Scruffy. "Did you always want to be on TV?"

"Oh, yes. I've known for years that Total Drama is my home!"

Scary coughs in the back. "Loser!"

Max elbows her and she lunges at him. Their growls and his screeches fade out as she chases him across the lot. Scruffy turns back to Peter. "What did you want to do?"

"Oh, a lot of things," Peter nods. "Doctor, psychologist, research scientist, teacher... people say I have a real knack for helping."

Scruffy makes a face. "Has helping people ever gotten you anywhere?"

Now it's O's turn to elbow him. He frowns disapprovingly and turns to Peter. "Well, I think that's wonderful, Peter. Maybe we can be therapists together!"

"Maybe!"

Scruffy rolls their eyes and shakes their head sadly. "Just not cut out for this game..."

The sound of a door opening catches the attention of the remaining players and they turn towards their sides. A young person dressed in a purple tank top and black pants comes out from the impromptu production tent set up outside the craft services tent, adjusting a lav mic and grinning widely.

“Okay, who’s first?” they ask, flipping their braids over their shoulders.

The campers look between each other. One tiny voice pipes up from the back of the crowd. “Ooh, me! Me!”

The interviewer ignores Scruffy and sighs, tapping their chin. “How about… Max. We have a lot of questions for him,”

Max screams from far away as Scary catches him.

"Can someone get him for me?"

---

The camera adjusts and focuses on Max sitting in front of a wall, the space cleared out for the interview. Nadie remains behind the camera, clearing their throat. “Good morning. I’m Canada, but you can also call me Nadie, if you want,”

“Your name is Canada?”

“Nadie for short. Shall we begin?”

---

NADIE: “Okay, so when I got this internship at Reality Weekly six months ago, I was so totally not expecting to get sent out to Toronto to interview the Total Takes cast- this is like a dream come true! My supervisor Sierra picked me specifically, because I’ve already seen all of Total Takes Island- five times!”

---

Nadie tries to contain the smile in their tone as they begin. “So, Max- what’s it like being back on the show?”

“Terrible,”

“Last episode, you said that you only came back to see your girlfriend, Michela- now that she’s gone, do you still want the money?”

He shrugs. “It couldn’t hurt. Might as well try while I’m still stuck in this hell hole,”

---

Outside the trailer, Scary, Scruffy, O, and Peter wait on the grass. A shaky, handheld camera records them, and Scary glares at it.

“What, like we aren’t being recorded all the time on this damn set?”

The cameraman doesn’t respond. She groans and stands, walking back to the craft services tent. The camera turns and follows her, stopping every time she turns around.

“Would you BUZZ OFF!” she finally yells, storming into the tent and zipping the flap behind her.

Scruffy runs in front of the camera. “You can film me! Look at me! I loved your guys’ exposee piece on Sugar!”

The camera turns away.

---

Max walks out of the trailer in a few minutes, and O is called in.

The former walks past Peter and Scruffy waiting outside and locks himself in the communal bathroom. Scruffy groans in agony.

"This is torture! No one here even cares... do you know how special being on Total Drama is? It's hard, yes, but... we're making history! We have fan clubs, people speculating about us and our relationships, magazines running stories on us... what part of that doesn't sound amazing?!"

"Um... all of it," O grumbles, sitting criss-cross in the grass while snacking on a baby muffin. "Is that really why you came here? To get famous?"

"Not really. I just wanted to... you know, experience it for myself," Scruffy sighs. "Why'd you come?"

"My therapist recommended it, thank you very much," he responds curtly. "And I think this place is a petri dish of potential clients in the future. After this season is done, we can start doing group therapy!"

"Geez, and you think I'm weird for obsessing over the show," Scruffy rolls their eyes. "But at least we can agree on one thing-"

O nods. "People here are crazy,"

---

“I guess meeting everyone has been fun,” O says, tapping his chin. “Peter is pretty chill, Scruffy is… um… I’ll pass on that. Max has his moments, but I see a lot of love in him, deep down,” O puts a hand over his heart. “Just the way he looks at Michela tells me that behind all that nerdy superiority, he’s got a good heart. Scary is a black tar pit of nothingness and she might’ve been forged in the depths of the sun.”

---

The camera films through the mesh craft services tent window as Scary sticks another fork in the wooden table at the center of the tent and digs it deep into the pliable surface. She takes out a rubber band and pulls it apart, creating a long, rubber string. They tie one end to one fork, and likewise to the other, then pulls it back with a small pebble.

She grins as she releases the elastic and it flies across the tent, straight into the camera lens.

---

SCARY: "What? I've been making some good progress here, and after last episode, I'm not taking any chances letting the wrong people see what I'm cooking up," they hold up their notebook and grin. "They'll see. They'll all see!" she laughs maniacally and then coughs. "But, as much as I hate to admit it, losing my assistant has taken me a step back. A scientist is only as good as their word, and in most cases, their word needs to be excessively reviewed and re-reviewed."

---

Scruffy runs a lap around the filming trailer, then another. Peter gets called inside and O walks out, stretching and retreating to the other trailer.

---

“Scruffy is… well… they’re an enigma, let’s say that,” O scratches his chin. “They may be too far gone for even me to help.”

---

“I almost feel bad for them,” Peter says, hands in his lap. “They’re straining themself so hard, and I can tell when someone is about to snap…”

---

“Another formidable opponent lost to the insanity of Total Takes,” Max shakes his head. “A damn shame.”

---

"Wasted potential," Scary flicks a dustball off their lab coat.

---

Peter sits in the designated chair against the chosen backdrop, fidgeting nervously.

“You doing alright, Peter?” Nadie asks, adjusting his lavalier mic and then stepping back. He nods sheepishly. “If you insist. First question… what’s it like making it this far in the game after being dropped so early from the competition in the first season?”

“Scary,” he says immediately. “Even scarier now that Fren is gone.”

“Were you two good friends?”

“He was nice to me,” Peter mumbles. “No one is nice to me… I mean, just off the bat.”

“How do you feel about Max’s influence over his elimination?”

“What do you mean?”

Nadie scratches her chin awkwardly. “Well… if he’d never been exposed, he’d still be here,”

Peter looks at his feet. “I guess I’ve… never thought about it that much…”

---

O rifles through a bag of chips from the kitchen, watching Scruffy pace back and forth and murmur to themselves like a madman. Scary joins O, hands on their hips as they watch the display.

“Pathetic,” she sighs. “Oh, well. I suppose they were always a ticking time bomb. Say, O… you have any experience in chemistry?”

“Only in the chemicals of the mind!”

“Nerd!” Scary shouts, walking away. “Have to do everything my damn self around here…”

Max steps out of the bathroom, looking back and forth. The camera zooms in on him as he walks out, exhaling.

“Boo!”

He screams and leaps as Scary shouts in his ear. She chuckles and watches him blush and regain his composure. “Was that necessary?”

“No. That’s why it’s fun,” she smiles. “Hey, you’re a smart guy, right?”

“Maybe. Who’s asking?”

“I need a second opinion,” Scary pulls out her notebook. “Some peer review, if you will. Scruffy has obviously fallen off the deep-end, and I have some ideas to bounce.”

“What, your parole officer busy this week?”

“You and I both know I’m above the law. What do you say? I’ll give you a fraction of the profits if I’m right… 10%?”

“25%”

“20%, and that’s my final offer,”

“Deal. Twenty it is,”

Scruffy trips on a pebble and wails on the ground, rocking back and forth in front of them.

---

“Peter is…” O starts, looking up.

---

“A pushover,” Max scoffs.

---

“A good guy, but not Total Takes material,” Scruffy nods. "Poor guy is going to get eaten alive..."

---

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with him, he’s just so milquetoast,” Max rolls his eyes. “Still, I wouldn’t mind making it to the finale with him. For obvious reasons.”

---

Peter sits in the craft services tent, biting his nails and glancing over to Max every few minutes. He’s busy rifling through a few of Scary’s notes, looking up every few seconds to make sure no one can see what he’s doing. The camera zooms in on the papers nonetheless.

Peter turns to O. “Can I get some advice?”

“What?” O yawns, leaning on his elbow. “Oh, yeah, sure! What’s the deal- GAD? SAD?”

“Um… I just want your opinion on something. You know, like a friend,”

O raises an eyebrow.

---

O: “I guess it’s just kind of… weird… having people want to talk to me like a friend… I’ve never had a friendship that existed outside of impromptu therapeutic discussions and mutual validation, you know?”

---

“If there was someone who… ruined a friendship for you… would it be right to be angry at them?” Peter asks, looking at his lap nervously.

“Anger is a secondary emotion, if we can get to the root…” O slows down, then sighs. “Yes. Yes it would be right. In fact, I’d be even angrier! If I got to actually keep a friend, and then someone else ruined our friendship, I’d be furious!”

“Really,” Scary scoffs from across the table, peering over her notebook. “Mr. Cool Therapy, that’s not good client advice.”

“I’m not a therapist,” O crosses his arms, matter-of-factly. “I’m not licensed, after all. It’s illegal to impersonate a doctor. We’re talking… as friends!”

“Whatever,” she sighs, returning to her notes.

---

“O is… whatever, I guess,” Scary crosses her arms. “Not worth my time.”

---

“He’s fine. Michela liked him enough,” Max sighs. "She does have astronomically bad taste, though... wait, what does that say about me?"

---

Nadie steps into the craft services tent and calls in Scary.

"No way in hell," Scary grumbles, leafing through the notebook with Max at her side. "You're lucky I haven't smashed in all your stupid equipment yet."

"Um, yeah, Chris warned us about that, so... he took the liberty of setting up a minefield around the production tent," Nadie smiles nervously. "I wouldn't get too close if I were you."

---

"What do I think I've accomplished on the show?" Scary scoffs at the question.

---

Max sighs. "Nothing,"

---

"Not enough!" O says.

---

"I guess I've... survived, and that's good enough, right?" Peter smiles bashfully.

---

"Here's an accomplishment for you: today's minefield will be the last," Scary grins. "Chris is going down."

---

It's dark out now, the sun setting behind the cityscape. Scary steps out of the trailer and Nadie sticks his head out as she leaves. “Scruffy?”

“FINALLY!” Scruffy jumps up from the grass where they’ve been waiting for the past few hours, and dashes inside the trailer. “I am so ready for this!”

“Love the enthusiasm,” Nadie smiles. “We don’t actually have a lot of questions for you, but this one’s on everyone’s minds…”

“Anything!” they speak enthusiastically, folding their hands in their lap and sitting up straight.

“What are your thoughts on Patrick and Julia being an item?”

Scruffy’s smile drops. “What?”

“Damn, right, I forgot that you don’t have internet access here. Patrick and Julia are an item now! Considering your close friendship with Julia, a lot of the fans are wondering…”

They force another smile. “That’s great! That’s so cool and awesome, I’m SO happy for them! Haha! Even though Patrick’s style of antagonism directly conflicts Julia’s and they’re way too different and he knows nothing about her. I’m fine! You know what? I didn't even want to do this interview anyway- I have to go!” Scruffy stands, running outside the trailer.

---

Scruffy sits in the confessional, wailing.

---

Scary and Max watch them running into the makeup and hair confessional, covering their face. “What got up their ass this time?” Max asks.

---

Peter and O watch the two from inside the mess hall. "What do you think they're doing?"

"Nothing good," O responds, shaking his head. "Anything those two can agree on has to be trouble."

"I don't know, maybe we're being too harsh..." Peter starts, twirling his thumbs around each other. "I don't want to be mean..."

O sighs and takes a seat at the table. "Listen, man. Speaking... as a friend, I think you can be pretty soft when it comes to people messing with your feelings. And I know that... I haven't been doing a good job at regulating that for everyone. I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I feel like therapy just pushes positivity onto people instead of validating their feelings!"

"I don't think that's crazy at all," Peter says. "Didn't your therapist get you to come on reality TV to face a fear?"

"Yeah... maybe... that wasn't the right move," O sighs. "I know it's unprofessional, but I see you guys as friends, not clients, and I would never subject my friends to that same crap."

"I don't think that's unprofessional, I think that's empathy. It's sweet," Peter smiles. "If only everyone else felt that way..."

"Hey, man, if you need me, I'm here for you. What's been happening to you isn't fair, and if you wanna get mad-"

“It’s just so unfair!” he suddenly shouts, slamming his fists on the table. “Why do these things keep happening to me?!”

“That's it- stand for yourself! Don’t let your fear take over!”

“You’re right! I’ve been letting myself get walked on for too long!” Peter stands. “I’m going to confront Max and Scary and tell them exactly what’s on my mind!”

He storms out of the craft services tent and to the impromptu camera tent, where the Reality, Weekly crew is having their dinner break. Max and Scary are hovering around the group, using their lights to read through the notes.

“I’m no scientist, but this all seems right to me,” Max says. “If your readings are correct, and your evidence can be held up in court, you definitely have a case.”

“I knew it!” Scary grins. “Chris McLean is SO going down!”

“MAX AND SCARY!” Peter shouts, pointing an accusing finger at them. The two look up from their notes and squint at him.

“Great. What now?” Max mutters, crossing his arms. Scary hands him the notes and walks up to Peter, hands on her hips.

“What’s the deal, pipsqueak?”

“The deal is that… that…” Peter quivers, a little unsure of himself, before he takes a deep breath and stands his ground. “You’re MEAN!”

“You’re RUDE. You’re EVIL!” he takes a step forward. “And you’re not even that much smarter than anyone else! We can ALL TELL!”

Scary scoffs. “God, this is pathetic. You really think that-”

She takes a step closer and triggers a sudden hidden trip wire. The sound of twanging makes both her and Peter stop dead in their tracks and turn to the sound of fizzling under their feet. They both jump to the ground, covering their heads as a landmine goes off behind them- sending Max flying across camp and instantly disintegrating all of Scary’s notes. She watches the papers turn into ashes in horror.

Chris chuckles, watching the display from afar. “Man, I love fireworks,”

---

A medical helicopter takes off, Max tucked inside. Scary is seething, fists clenched.

“Well… that was fun,” Nadie says, waving goodbye to the chopper.

Chris smiles. “Yes. Yes it was,”

"MONTHS of evidence- gone!" Scary turns to Peter. "You're dead. You're dead meat, and I'm gonna eat you!"

"Weird," O breathes, then turns his head to either side of him. "Hey- where'd Scruffy go?"

---

Scruffy remains in the confessional, wailing.

---

#total takes action #tta

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year

Text

Drags

Media IRL X High Fantasy

Character TBS

Couple Tbs X Reader

Rating sweet + Flirty

Concept Pet Drags

I sat up with a yawn and a stretch, I rubbed my eyes trying to get used to the bright light of the mid-morning. My body sits squarely in the centre of my octagon-shaped bed cascaded in covers of indigo and silver, I suppose I had never stopped to look at the fabric and its intricate hand-woven works but I knew soon it would change. My bed was smothered with hand-crafted pillows of the softest silks and satins. My small brown teddy bear in knitted silver armour beside me. I shuffled to the end of my bed looking into my room, my Wardrobe, bathroom, desk, balcony and such like but I mostly just focused on the pile of equally extravagant pillows in the corner with two silver dishes both of which empty.

But sat curled up on the pillows sat Liswick, her body no bigger than my teddy bear or the average dinner plate, her skin blue scales that shimmered holographic in the light, a rather flat face with sapphire eyes, small wings barely six inches long but a long tail that narrowed the further it went. She was fast asleep wings flinching in her sleep. I had always had liswick, ever since I was a little girl. Drags were very common once almost everyone had them but that was due to terrible people doing terrible things and farming the poor creatures making sure everyone could have one at a price luckily such things were outlawed now and their natural way was restored.

A Drag, gets pregnant and the females lay their eggs in tall trees when the eggs are mature enough they hatch and the babies flutter on the wind until they find a warm host, often children. young drags will flutter in through open windows to the warmth of children's cribs where they wrap their tales around their hands and a bond is formed stronger than any other. Liswick found her way from a tree in the castle gardens to my nursey crib only days after I was born and the two of us had been inseparable ever since. "Liswick" I cooed Which caused her to stir raising her head and giving it a wobble before stretching out and sitting up prim and proper on the pillow Chirrrp chirrrp she made her little sound before scampering over into my arms "Good morning" I smiled giving her head a kiss 'come on then busy day" I laughed jumping out of bed.

I did all my usual work washing, fixing my hair into two long pigtails with silver thread woven in and then twisting them around each other and pinning them to my head, and getting on my long blue dress, as I slipped on my shoes for the day Liswick climbed up my dress perching on my shoulder coiling her tail around my arm "Off we go then" I smiled as we hurried through the castle together. We arrived at the throne room seeing it busy with people so I made sure to be quiet and sneaky making my way around without being spotted as I headed out onto the porch overlooking the sweet vast gardens cliffs and ocean.

I noticed immediately I was not the only one to have snuck out here as Thomas stood in his usual lordly clothes leant on the stone railing carefully feeding his own drag Nadi. Nadi was larger than Liswick being a male that was typical for drags, with bright firey red scales, long sculpted wings and a short stubby tail black at its end from being set on fire all the time. Nadi was jumping and fluttering around trying to get the small treats Thomas was feeding him "I said stay Nadi" he complained but Nadi wouldn't listen stealing the treat from his fingers and torching it with his fire from his nose before eating the treat "Still fighting I see" I giggled as I came over and sat on the stone close to them "He'll learn, he's just a stubborn little boy" he laughed petting Nadi but the two spotted each other. Nadi and Liswick then began cooing and chirping at each other. Liswick climbed down my arm and the two began to play together "Awww they are so cute" I laughed "Yeah, they are. I think he misses her sometimes" "Does he?" "I know he does" "I think she misses him too sometimes" I smiled as I noticed the two of them rubbing noses and coiling their tails as they often did when together “Perhaps we can arrange a couple more play dates for them, maybe a sleepover” “That does sound nice” but we both perked up as shouting came from the throne room so we both sheepishly scampered inside standing by the door like we had always been there.

My father was angry about… something. Not sure what. Ordering his lords and guards to do, something. I’ve missed most of the meeting I have no clue what’s going on. But he calmed down and came down from his throne taking my cheek in his hand “Ahhh there you are y/n. I was getting worried about you” “I’ve been right here Father” I smiled “Ahh I see. Good girl listening into council business” he says before he turns his attention to Thomas “Your grace” he bows “You taking care of my princess” “Yes your grace” “Good, but do not let your look linger,” he says “Being betrothal only brings you so far, remember always the line yet to be crossed” "Of course your grace" he nodded my father then continued on his walk, I struggled not to blush at the thought of being reminded Thomas and I were betrothed since we were children no older than six, I remember the day Thomas' father came to bend the knee to mine and deal was struck that his father would give up his title of king of the east, bend the knee and swear to my father as king of the whole realm and would end this war and in return, my father would grant him mercy, a lordship, his ancestral family home and the two would forever bind the families by Thomas and I being betrothed to one day marry and rule as king and queen. But that said, was coming faster than I liked.

As my father's sickness grew worse, I heard whispers from the council meetings that our wedding would have to be soon as it has long been law in our kingdom that a new ruler can not take the throne without wed an heir, regardless of age, gender, or any other issues. It was a good rule meaning the throne could never be left open for debate succession is always clear the only time issues can arise is with sudden deaths all of which the council has plans for just in case. I suppose like any princess I was excited to be married but it always brought a smile to my face to think of, I suppose an odd side effect of having your betrothal hanging around since you were six sorts of creates the issue that you forget you're even betrothed to each other and grow up more as friends or even siblings every so often reminded that one day we would have to marry, take the marriage bed and produce an heir.

Once the greetings were done we snuck back out but stopped short "Where are liswick and Nadi?" I asked in panic they hadn't followed us inside but were now gone from the stone both Thomas and I rushed checking the gardens, the throne room, the kitchens, our rooms anywhere they were common to go without us but the day grew on with still no sign of them anywhere "Anything?" He asked as we regrouped in the library "No, anything?" "Nothing, it's like they just disappeared" "I don't understand it's not like Liswick and Nadi to rush off on their own. You don't think they could have been taken do you?" "Why would anyone take them? everyone from here to Summersisle knows Nadi and Litwick there pretty identifiable, and Nadi is a little shit anyone tries even picking him up other than you and me he bites their fingers off" he explained as we began to walk down the corridor together "he's not even that happy with me half the time" he says absentmindedly rubbing his hand where Nadi had bit him more than once

"He's never bit me" "That's because he loves you, and Liswick" "Yeah, Liswick loves you and Nadi too" I smiled "Now where are they hiding?" "You don't think they could have flown off do you?" "No, you know Liswick she doesn't fly very much" "true, - The laundry!" "The laundry!" I jumped and we quickly bolted through the castle knowing both Nadi and Liswick had a habit of sneaking into laundry baskets to go and snuggle in the huge piles of bedding down there, rushing down to the empty laundry hall deep in the castle and we heard them cooing "Nadi!" he calls "Liswick!" I called getting closer and closer to the sound before finally spotting them both. On top of a mountain hoard of sheets, blankets and other soft fabrics has been formed by them shuffling them over into the corner, they were clearly under one sheet as you could see it flicking and moving the sound of their cooing coming from below, Thomas was the one to pull away the sheet and the moment he did we both were utterly shocked at the sight.

Liswick laid on the covers, Nadi on top of her their bodies close, their tales coiled tight around each other snuggling and nuzzling each other having sex. "You two stop that right now!" I said making them separate "Nadi what the hell!" "I guess he was eager for that sleepover" "I think so, come on little man you're coming back to our -" Thomas tried to pick him up but Nadi was not having it spitting fire from his nose and nuzzling with Liswick who snuggled him back "I don't think they want to be apart" "Seems like it, I suppose there's no harm if they wanna snuggle down here together" "They can snuggle I'd just rather they be upstairs," "Alright, He can have a sleepover with you girls I'll come and see if he wants to come back in the morning" "And if he doesn't?" "Then I'll have to take them both for the night I guess" "Alright come on then you two" I told them but they wouldn't move "Fine" I sighed grabbing the sheet they laid on and using it to carry them both inside which neither seemed to mind "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then" He sighed "You know, you're more than welcome to stay for a sleepover too Thomas?" "I-I am?" "so you can be close to Nadi and all" I blushed "These two can snuggle in Litwick's pillow fort and… you and me can bunk it together in my bed" "You uhh you don't mind?" "No, just… our little secret" "Deal!" He jumped excitedly taking the sheet to carry them both "You think maybe… I could get a snuggle too?" "If you're good" I smiled kissing his cheek before we took arms and headed up to my bedroom.

#thomas brodie sangster #tbs #thomas sangster #tbs smut #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagines #tbs imagine #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut

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linuxealcipher · 1 year

Note

HIIIIIIIII I FINALLY CAME HOME AND BEFORE I FALL LIFELESSLY ON MY BED(WHY ITS SO FUCKING HOT GRRRRRR) ILL SHOW YOU WHAT I HUNTED TODAY:3

First my dumpster fin-

CHUNYA GET THE FUCK OUTA HERE

Okay sorry he missed me, anyway dumpsters were really generous today!!! First i got this pretty cloth piece!!!!! Someone cross stitch on it and also handmade lace!!!!!

Second is chinese money frog!!! Sadly without a coin in its mouth!!! But i think I'll just give it some cool coin i have from my collection!!!!

Then there a bead bracelet, a rhinestone bracelet which i turned inside out bc i like it metal side more, and bead cross thing which name idk in english!!! I will probably take it and black bead bracelet apart

Oh there were also lots of uhh those hair picks, I'll probably use them in crafts

And last one is what i bought today in antique store!!!!! Its a pretty soviet plastic dish with metal crayfishes on it!!! I need to find a place to hang it now. SO HOPE YOU ENJOY MY LITTOL PRESENTATION BC I LOVE SHARE ABOUT MY TRINKETS AND DUMPSTER STUFF!!!!!

AEEAEAEAERATEARGARAGARGARARARRARA SO COOL SO COOL SO COOL!!!!!!!!!!

That lace is so so pretty and that frog is so shiny and just, I love it. The bracelets are also really pretty! Also I think the cross has a special name but I don’t know what it is. It’s still cool. CRAYFISH PLATE CRAYFISH PLATE!!! That’s such a pretty color of red.

THANK YOU FOR SHARING THE COOL LITTOE TRINKETS!!!! I LOVE THEM VERY MUCH!!!!!!!

#goblin speaks #goblin dragon asks #hehehhe beloved moots #basyacriptid #hourrggg I wanna go dumpster diving now #gotta pack tho #so cool so cool so cool so cool

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amusedreams · 10 months

Text

*quiet sigh*

I'm having a day why my asshole brain is lying to me, so I'm forcing myself to make a list of Things I've Done so it can quit telling me I'm a slug and should wail and gnash my teeth and rend my clothes.

I've cleaned the kitchen - defined as emptying the clean dishes from the machine, loading dirty dishes from breakfast (and later lunch) into the machine, emptied the drying rack, washed hand dishes so the drying rack is full again, and wiping down surfaces properly.

I've emptied a shelf and a bit of an author-pair I can't bring myself to read any longer because reasons. I'd already pulled a shelf and a half of another author who I have nothing to complain about, I just never reread those books. That amounted to two paper sacks to be donated.

I found other things that made me think of someone, and since they were small and flat, I pulled out stationery and wrote out a long note and tucked them into a Christmas card that will hopefully reach them in a couple weeks. I love them very much, and I hope they're improving, but they're even farther away physically, being on another continent, that most of my friends who are merely a state away.

I trimmed the rose bush. Thoroughly. I hope future me can enjoy the benefits of this, because past me is pretty sure NOT trimming the rose bush thoroughly is why last spring and summer was weird for it.

I made a grocery list. I'm pretty sure I missed a few important things, but I'll worry about that later.

I tidied email, wrote a review, and sent a short email to a craft person who I'm hoping to buy something from.

I pulled the sweep from the shower door and washed it thoroughly, then set it aside to dry thoroughly before I reinstall it.

I fed myself two whole meals. I also fed the cats. I also showered.

I know why my emotional brain is being an asshole, and it's understandable even. But I wish it would stop. We have grieved them all very much (for almost two decades in one specific case) and grieving won't bring any of them back. In fact, the one who's been gone the longest would be Very Sad we are Still Sad. We would probably be poked about putting up some sort of decorations involving lights which would make us feel better. So that's on the mental list for after grocery shopping.

#might delete later #sadly just boring real life #move along #little to see here #other than me trying to coax myself to be reasonable

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captaiinobvious · 2 years

Text

i finally decorated my journal (with only 21 pages left in it 2 lol) 2 relax after a looooong day of hard work. ignore my knuckle bending backwards thats normal it just does that.

i was up and down all day cleaning and taking pain breaks and organizjng and bleh. then i passed out 4 a few hours n missed my chance 2 shower so i gotta do it 2mrrw. which is my last day 2 do everything n i hav 2 go 2 my grandpas birthday 2. but i did literally so much 2day the rest of u bitches will never b on my level hell yeah. i unpacked 2 suit cases, like 5 tote bags, 3 or 4 boxes which i got rid of i cleared a bunch of storage space organized and repacked 2 drawers so all our new clothes r put away. organized my stickers. went thru all my moms yarns. got rid of a bunch of trash n old food. n my whole family was cleaning so even way more stuff got done like the dishes n stuf. idk i wasnt keeping track of everyone else lol

i didnt get around 2 eggtober and i may not tomorrow but im pretty sure ive drawn at least one egg for every day if u put them all 2gether so im not pressed @ all. i hope i get to do some tomorrow!! someone did an egg inspired by one of my sets 2day and i was like FUCK yeah cosmic egg buddies. im really rockin this eggtober thing luv seeing the nice tags n getting a ton of notes every day.

i reallyhope my package comes 2mrrw cuz day after we're having ppl over for crafts n the crafts r in that package :/ WHOA JUST CHECKED it no longer says it has an exception so 🤞 i think i will get it 2mrrw. thts gonna b so fun... 2mrrw will b sooo busy. at least we can do laundry while we're at my grandpas birthday and then finish putting clothes away. organized fresh clean clothes... i never really had that so its a novelty lol. excited 2 shower n eat a big brekfastwhen i wake up cuz i had a small dinner. probably i will ask my moms 2 order me pumpkin spice latte. for energyyyyy i will say. cleaning snergy. birthday energy. hell yeah. well the episode i wS watching is over so imma sign off and pass the fuck out goodnighty beloved followers. i win at everything etc

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sadeswrites · 7 months

Text

A 0/5 on QuestAdvisor

Review of “Grape Vine Restaurant” by Markus Reviewmaker on QuestAdvisor (a wooden post board in the middle of the town square, where the townspeople would place information and events)

Rating: 0/5 ★

Review:

I had plenty of friends try to recommend this place to me over the past few months. “Go to Grape Vine,” they said. “And when you do, you have to try their Starfall Stew!”

Well, people of all species, I did just that. And wouldn’t you know, it was one of, if not the worst, experiences of my reviewing tenure. Needless to say, I won’t be going back, but let me take some time to lay the scene out for you:

I had to travel all the way to Gaia Forest to reach the restaurant, which was an inconvenience of itself, as I was all the way in the kingdom of Deloor. Not by the fault of the restaurant owners, of course, but it was a great precursor to my mood.

Then, when I get there, they tell me I have to make a reservation. A reservation! After discussing the fact that I am Markus Reviewmaker, renowned for my stature in the restaurant review scene, I was upgraded to the restaurant owner, who begrudgingly allowed me a seat in their restaurant. My review was already going to be missing a star for this unprofessionalism.

Then, a waitress came out to take my order. In classic druid fashion, she was barely clothed, which ruined my immersion in the experience of the adventure. I requested a pint of beer and their Starfall Stew. The beer was alright, but nothing compared to the mountain beer crafted by the dwarves in Mount Empathy. Those really make you feel.

After a tantalizing half an hour wait, my dish was finally brought out to me: the famed Starfall Stew. It looked delightful. The steam emanating from it was enough to add back that missing star.

And then I took a spoonful. I have never spit something out so fast in my life. Ten seconds later, I was throwing up into one of their potted plants and had to wash down the putrid flavor with another pint of beer. This was quite literally the worst experience I had ever had.

As a slap to the face, the owner refused to refund me for my order. I’m almost concerned they tried to poison me. I’ve never met a group of druids more hostile toward me in my entire life.

(A response to this review was posted directly under it on QuestAdvisor.)

Markus,

Not a single one of these complaints is genuine or in good spirit. To mock the traditional druid clothing, to compare our beer to the golden standard, and to spit in the face of reservations, the lifeblood of many restaurants, is a despicable practice as a reviewer.

As for your review of our Starfall Stew, you explicitly requested we give you the druid version as opposed to the human version, which is more suited to your tastebuds. The druid version has a different blend of vegetables and spices that gives it a unique flavor only we can taste, and the human version is better suited for a human palette. But, since you insisted on the druid version, saying we were “hiding the best menu options behind the oppression of humans,” we conceded and gave you it. We absolved ourselves of all blame when you threatened to cause a scene over stew.

We hope this gives a more nuanced view of this review for those that are keen to common sense.

- Owner, Grape Vine Restaurant

#short story #writing #authors #fantasy #silly #funny #had a lot of fun writing this tee hee #i hope you enjoy #:3

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ozarkfleajunksales · 8 months

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dcviated · 1 year

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@psychcdelica sent:

"Armstrong-San! I've made too much for lunch, I wont be able to eat it all, would you like some?"

"Oh no, miss Yukizome, I wouldn't trouble you for that, much as I appreciate the offer. After all one such as I... has...!!! Oh!!!" Armstrong attempts to lead with the reluctant front in the face of fierce generosity, but as soon as the lunch in question is revealed he finds himself slipping on that valiant conviction. What delightfully beautiful dishes this woman has prepared!!

"This bento.. the heart and soul invested into it is almost too much to take. You've crafted more than a meal, you have created art! The decoration to the rice. The careful cuts of fruit. The carving of the sausage and how its color compliments even the bowl itself!!!" Something is about to break here, and if it's not one's mind it may be his clothes. Oh, it's the tear ducts. There he goes!!!

"To think that it would go to waste!! It would break my heart! Very well, I accept! You have moved me!" To break his dietary restrictions among other things. But it's fine.

He proceeds to eat it in the cleanest most polite manner imaginable. Dab dab of the napkin before its tucked in his collar.`

#psychcdelica #psychcdelica :: chisa #muse :: armstrong #inbox :: answered ic #so dramatic and for what #FOR WHAT

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bigworldsmallbusiness · 1 year

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Bangkok Spice: Bringing Authentic Thai Cuisine to the North Shore

Tucked between Atlantic Framing and Reading Eye Associates on Haven Street in Reading, MA, lies the unsuspecting Bangkok Spice, a small, Thai restaurant that you would probably just walk by if you did not know it was there. If you were to continue walking on the sidewalk and heading toward the train station straight ahead, you would miss some of the best Thai food on the North Shore.

Owned by the married couple Ott and Awn Chen, Bangkok Spice was opened in 2002 and has stayed in the same location ever since. If you were to peek back into the kitchen, you would see Ott, every night, cheffing away over a large wok, preparing each customer’s meal himself. Awn spends most of her time serving customers, but occasionally, on busy nights, she straps on her apron and helps Ott to cook. Most of the customers at Bangkok Spice are regulars who are loyal to the Chen’s Thai cuisine. If you go in on a weekday night, you will find lots of people waiting in their business clothes and work attire ready to bring home their takeout after a long day in the office. The restaurant is located right across the street from the commuter rail in Reading, making it a perfect spot to grab a quick and easy dinner. On weekends, you would find families, couples, and friends, seated at tables laughing and talking while enjoying their food and drinks.

One of the wonderful things about Bangkok Spice is that almost every entree on their menu is under fifteen dollars. Despite the inexpensive prices, it does not take away from the quality or portion sizes of the entrees. The menu is carefully crafted with a wide range of Thai dishes that cater to everyone's taste buds. Whether you are looking for a spicy or mild dish, vegetarian or non-vegetarian, you'll find something that suits your preferences.

Pad Thai and Drunken Noodles are the restaurant's most popular dishes. The Pad Thai is made with stir-fried rice noodles, peanuts, bean sprouts, and a choice of protein. The Drunken Noodles, on the other hand, is a spicy dish made with flat noodles, vegetables, and a choice of protein. My personal favorite is the Basil Pad Thai with chicken. Vegetarians will also be impressed with the variety of dishes on offer at Bangkok Spice. The Thai Basil Tofu is a popular option, as is the Green Curry Vegetable, which is made with an assortment of fresh vegetables in a creamy green curry sauce.

Bangkok Spice also offers a range of drinks to complement the food, including Thai iced tea and coffee, selling for $1.75, which are a must-try when dining here. The restaurant's ambiance is another highlight, with its warm and welcoming decor, and Thai-inspired art on the walls. Little figurines are scattered about the walls, serving as coat hooks dispersed in between framed posters of traditional Thai art, like dragons, Lotus flowers, and people dressed in bronze armor. The staff is incredibly friendly and knowledgeable, and they are always happy to make recommendations or accommodate any special requests.

Wonderful food, service, and atmosphere aside, Bangkok Spice is a momentous space for me and my family. I was raised in Reading until we moved to Cape Cod the summer before I started kindergarten. Some of my earliest memories are of me sitting in a high chair in our small kitchen with my mom serving me Ott’s red curry. For many years, my parents were the customers in Bangkok Spice waiting for their takeout in their work clothes accompanied by me running around the inside of the restaurant, impatiently waiting to go home. Awn would always come out of the kitchen when she heard my mom come in, and excitedly say, “Jennifer, it is so good to see you.” She always had crayons ready for me to use, and I would scribble all over the back of the paper place settings to preoccupy myself while time passed.

When we moved away, we took every opportunity we could to visit Bangkok Spice. If we were visiting Boston, or my cousins who live in Lincoln, MA, we would always make the detour to stop in for dinner. My mom kept her job in Wilmington when we moved to Cape Cod, which meant that she stayed overnight in Lincoln on Tuesday and Wednesday nights so she could go into the office. Tuesday night dinners for her consisted of Basil Pad Thai, and if we were lucky, she would bring home her leftovers that we would have to portion out equally between me, my sister, and my dad because all of us wanted a piece of her meal. Now that I go to Endicott, and I am fortunate enough to have my car on campus, every Tuesday night when my mom comes up for work, I meet her at Bangkok Spice for a yummy meal and a weekly catch-up. Seeing my mom every week is one of the things that I look forward to most, and to make it even better, we get to spend it at a place that means a lot to both of us. On Tuesday nights it is always the same young woman, Melissa, who is working and knows us as soon as we walk in. Melissa doesn’t even give us menus anymore because she knows that we both always order the same thing. She says, “The usual?” to which we simultaneously respond, “Yup.”

I never expected that a small, Thai restaurant would hold such an important place in my heart, but it symbolizes the fact that through all the change that has come over the last 20 years of my life, some things unexpected parts of life stay consistent. Bangkok Spice brings a little piece of Thailand to Reading, MA. With its authentic cuisine, warm ambiance, and friendly staff, it's the perfect spot for a night out with friends, a family dinner, or a romantic date. So, the next time you're craving Thai food, be sure to head over to Bangkok Spice!

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

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Thinks about househusband Katsuki who waits at home for his mistress while he’s wearing a plug 😩

tags ;; gn reader, dom!reader, 18+, katsuki in an apron hnggghhhoh my god, anal (m. recieving), anal fingering, househusband!bkg, praise kink <33

a/n ;; im losing my mind actually so much. head so empty. god please bring this man to me im so tired. literally almost died writing this.

he hates waiting.

of all the things in the world that bother him, other than deku and scratchy tags and forgetting to soak dishes - the thing he hates most is waiting for you to get home everyday. he knows you have to leave and he knows you kiss him every morning so he’s not so irritated about it. and he lets you leave begrudgingly.

he’s awake before you despite being upset no matter what. he wakes up, brushes his teeth and sets out to do his tasks for you before you’re awake. a towel in the dryer so it’s warm for you, making you breakfast at the crack of dawn, ironing your clothes. he takes care of all of it for you and sneers at you when you descend down the stairs, half asleep and pressing kisses to his cheek.

you’re the same always, a soft “morning, katsuki” followed by the squeezing of hips. and he cusses you out for it, but you continue cause you know he likes it. you know he likes you and that he’d be pissed if you didn’t.

you eat breakfast, grateful and praising him for how good it is and then you drink coffee and kiss him for a while - at least ten minutes or he fusses about it. and then the sun rises and your off to shower and get dressed.

when you come back presentable - suited up and dressed to yards, he blushes down the neck because he never gets over how attractive you are. he has a bento for you and everythings ready for you and you kiss him again.

“you know i love you more than anything right?”

“get to work, dipshit,” which is katsuki for “obviously”

and you leave with another quick kiss and grabbing a handful of his ass and he threatens to cut your clothes but you’re off after that. and when the door clicks shut he just barely masks his disappointment.

it’s.. rough to say the least. bakugou never imagined himself being in this positiion but he met you and all you ever wanted to do was take care of him and he let you. and he hates it because it’s.. weird how happy being like this makes him but it does.

maybe it’s because you reward katsuki so much. you never make him feel unappreciated and he likes that. you notice every little detail in his careful crafts, in the food he cooks, in everything and you praise him so sweetly it leaves him shaking. and you reward him with all of your attention time.

you don’t bring work home and when you have free time, no one can get to you. you’re not neglectful but adoring and honeyed and katsuki hates himself for getting so cozy with you but he can’t help himself.

but the worst part of his day is that he’s alone. he has stuff to to keep his busy - housework, laundry, going to the gym and grocery shopping and it works for the most part - he’s always in a rush to make dinner but when everything is set up and he’s waiting for you in the evening - he just.. hates it.

it’s easy to do things for you because you make it easy for him to trust you. and the little glowing look in your eyes when he does something you like is enough to make him embarassing. which is why at 6:26pm he’s in the bathroom - bent over the sink.

bakugos body is always pristine. he keeps himself groomed and cleaned and noticeably pretty though you’re unbothered by any of it. and it’s convenient for him when he has himself spread like this - one hand reaching behind him. he stretches himself out with two fingers first and a soft groan leaving his mouth when he does.

this lube is cherry scented and he thinks it’s evil you picked it. but the smell is soothing to his heavy head, the way his body falls forward when the plug stretches him and then comes to a snug fit. and once it’s in he can feel it. he’s had bigger but the light stretch is enough to make his knees buckle when he tries to stand at first.

he turns around and stares at before blushing.

“god i’m fucking embarassing,”

but he keeps it in, slides his boxers back on and tucks his stiff cock up against his belly so it’s not too obvious. and he makes dinner while he waits for you to come since it’s supposed to be a surprise.

and you come home about 20 mins after and dinners still on. the routine is usual for you, placing your bags on the couch, kicking your shoes off and immediately rushing to him. a back hug, arms around his waist - humming something soft.

“smells good baby,” are the first words out of your mouth, breath warm on his neck. god he’s flustered “you smell good too.. like.. perfume or something,”

he’s not sure if he’s happy or sad you’re so dense so he sighs. his ears burn and your touch makes him squirm. and he turns the heat down just a little as he greets you.

“...welcome home,”

you grin, shit-eating. knowing.

“missed you today,” ― you hum, brushing his ego the way you know he likes ― “always miss you, know that?”

“you’re so corny,” but he’s so content like this. he wants you tell him again but he bites his tongue when he feels your hands on his ass. this too, is typical of you, but he’s not expecting the rough grab. and he moans - loud and unusual.

and you pause and he pauses and he’s so humiliated - but you’re so sweet about it, like always. and he whimpers when you do it again. when your thumb presses against the crystal stop and pushes hard and his knees buckle. and you chuckle, biting his neck.

“that’s why you smell like that huh?”

and that’s how he ends up - with the stove turned off and his hands gripping the counter top. your body folded over him, a hand so softly fucking the plug in and out of him. you’re so amused by it. how he looks with his knees bent. pale skin and thick thighs trembling as you fuck him so good he drools on the marble.

“you’re always good to me baby, you know?” ― you quip, pushing the plug deep before pulling it out all the day only to shove it right back ― “got yourself nice and ready for me today, right? just for me?”

and you lick up his neck, bite his ear as he groans. everything in his body is hot but he replies.

“..j-just for you,”

you smile at him, kissing him with your tongue and shifting his head to the side. the plug ends up somewhere and you replace it with three fingers and that makes him cry. it’s so much better cause it’s you and his cock drooling - red and aching between his legs. you wrap yourself around him and stroke.

“such a good fucking boy. ‘m so lucky to come home to you, huh? my cute little husband who takes care of everything for me.. ‘m blessed aren’t i?”

he knows the questions rhetorical but the praise and the inevitable orgasm leave him devastated and he’s sobbing and drooling. it’s so much and so good.

“ah, don’t worry. ‘m gonna take care of you, okay? gonna fuck you nice and stupid tonigh so just cum and don’t worry. good boy,”

of course he cums. cums so hard he almost falls, all over the counter top and losing his breath as you finger him through it and whisper about how good he is to you. how much you love him.

god he hates waiting but you.. you always make it worth it.

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #cw dom reader #prettyboy.thirsts #BESTIE IM FUCKING LOSE IT #OH MY GDODFKJNDSJBFJ #return to sender #informal #im so.... oh my god #OH MY GOD

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