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[sweaterproducer]

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[walli3darl1ng]

Had a few of you ask me for part four so here it is!

What? You all thought I wasn’t gonna update?! 🫠🧍🏻

Anygays, Enjoy!

Doll maker!reader x Wally Darling

In which reader is a doll maker and gets asked to freshen up Wally Darling before it’s big show, but the cutie is falling in love and will do anything to have you.

Morning quick arrives and you’re laying on your back, arms out and letting out soft but deep snort. It was a peaceful and comfortable state.

Wally, however, was face down onto his stomach and hanging off the bed, ready to fall—

*thud*

“I'm up! I’m..up.” You groan. Blinking away the sleep, you reach up and rub your eyes glancing around before finding Wally on the ground. “Oh, hey Wally.”

There’s a dramatically long pause before it hits you like a ton of bricks and immediately picks him up from the floor, almost tripping and falling yourself. “Wally?!”

“How did you get here?” You set him on your lap and dust him off, giving a once over to see if he’s damaged. To your relief—he’s perfect. “Did I really bring you back with me last night?”

Wally was panicking a bit, he’s not calling you stupid, but is hoping your mind will convince you that you indeed brought him in your room last night and not him coming down himself.

He sees you shrug your shoulders and set him against the headboard of your bed, holding his hand. “Okay, well, I’ll just get ready and we can finally put your outfit on. Next I’ll work on your shoes.”

Wally lets gravity give his answer and tilts his head to the side in response getting a giggle from you. What a unique sound, he adores it. He wants to hear it again. He feels so extremely safe that he gets nervous when you leave him and walk into the bathroom and close the door.

It was an awful feeling, almost like feeling the walks slowly but swiftly cave in and feeling time grow excruciatingly long the harder he stares at the door. After a lifetime—it was only a few minutes in reality but the 12 apple shortie needed to be dramatic—you come out all freshen up but your hair is still messy.

“Much better, Let’s get dressed after breakfast,” you smile and walk over to Wally and pick him up automatically wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling him closer. “How’s that sound, Wally?”

Sounds wonderful. Was he waking up and getting ready for the day wrong all his existence? Sure he wakes up to Home but it doesn’t feel the same, it’s different. Why? You walk over to the kitchen and set Wally on the counter, sending him a smile before walking away and starting to make your morning drink.

“I did a little research last night and I found a lot of things about you, little one.” After making your drink and making a hot drink you set it in front of Wally and wrapped his hands around it. “For one, you really enjoy hot drinks even though you won’t drink it but the warmth is nice isn’t it?”

Wally is starting to think this is all a dream, how can someone be all he ever desires?

“Oh and I found out you like apples so I made this little scented pouch you can carry with you, it smells like sweet apples.” You show him the small pouch with a smile.

After breakfast and you just take Wally everywhere you go while cleaning a bit you start to head upstairs to your studio. You sat Wally and started to dress him up in his new, clean outfit. You also put the small pouch inside one of his pockets of his cardigan. You then stand Wally up to get a look at him. “You’re perfect.”

Is he? He is perfect, if you say so he is.

“Oh! Well almost. Hold on,” you pull him closer and look through drawers before finding what you needed. You pull away and wrap a solid red tie and make a bow. “Now you’re perfect. All that's left is fixing your shoes and making a travel box.”

It’s been a few days, you were done getting measurements and the wood for the box as well as other things to decorate it with. In the span of days you’ve grown attached, you put all your energy into Wally but this project is making you weak. Like your energy is getting absorbed more with each passing day but you can’t stop being around him. You’ll take him everywhere you go.

Wally has learned a lot with the help of Celine, they will tell him all sorts of things. He learned that humans—like his doll maker recharge by sleeping, where their body and mind relax. That’s why you didn’t hear him when he snuck into your room—I mean, when you brought him to your room.

Celine has also been telling him how to absorb energy, they does it to make you tired and actually take care of yourself by not overworking but they’ve noticed that Wally does it constantly and that can be a problem. Wally has been more persistent on information, asking specific questions and wanting a detailed answer, most of which Celine can’t answer them.

“So it’s possible for them to come to my world physically?”

“W-well not physically but spiritually.” Celine explains softly. They already regret telling Wally this.

“What’s it called again?”

“It’s called ‘shifting’. It means that when the mind and spirit are relaxed and in-sync the spirit can detach from the physical body and go wherever it pleases.”

[dira333]

When I felt like I was an old cardigan - Kenma x Reader

thanks @missalienqueen for the character choice

Your head’s pounding, the sliver of sunlight peaking through the blinds too bright for your eyes. You press them closed again, sink further into the bed. 

What happened last night? What day is today? Where are you anyway?

You’ve always been a deep sleeper. The kind that forgets everything the minute your eyes close. 

So you’re not that surprised to find yourselves out of your depth at first.

But you quickly realize that this isn’t your bed. Your bedding is not that expensive and your mattress is not that soft.

Did you spend the night at a hotel? 

You curl further into the pillows, your memories still a little foggy but at least past you has shown some taste in finding a place to sleep.

“Good morning.” The voice is soft and gentle and you need a second to realize that it’s not in your head.

You turn your head. There’s a door not far from you, a man leaning against the frame.

You swallow thickly. Hotel rooms normally don’t come with handsome strangers.

Wait, you were on a tinder date last night. Could it be-?

“I usually don’t sleep with someone on the first date.” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. 

“I know.” He says, dark hair falling into his eyes. Even from this distance you can tell that they are big and bright, cat-like and captivating. “You told me that last night, over and over.”

“And we still did-?” You can’t bring yourself to say it.

His eyes widen at your question. “No, no, nothing like that. Don’t you remember? You didn’t seem that drunk.”

You groan and rub your temples. “I have early morning dementia. I’ll need a cup of coffee to get my memories back.”

He chuckles softly, the sound rich and warm. It sends shivers down your spine.

“Follow me then.”

You follow him, the floor cool beneath your bare feet. You’re wearing an oversized shirt that’s definitely not yours over what appears to be your underwear. You wonder where the rest of your clothes ended up and whose shirt it might be. It can’t be his, he’s not that much taller or broader than you but the shirt hangs off you like a dress, generously covering your bare legs.

“What’s your name again?” You ask when he leads you into the kitchen. You’re normally pretty good with names and faces, but he’s not in any of your college classes, as far as you’re aware. And he’s got recognizable features, pretty eyes, and an interesting hair color, his long dark hair bleached at the ends, held up in the back in a messy bun that looks effortlessly pretty. You never get your hair to look like that.

“Kenma. Kenma Kozume. I know you from College.”

You blink. Could you have really missed him? With looks like that?

“I’m not in any of your classes.” He points out, his voice now quieter, his eyes moving across the kitchen as if looking for something to hold on to. “I just noticed you on campus, that’s all.”

“Oh.” You blink again. “That’s…” Your voice drowns in the noise of the coffee maker. Kenma seems uncomfortable with it too, flinching when the whirring gets a little too loud. 

Soon the distinct aroma of fresh coffee fills the room, waking your brain up a little more. Kenma puts the first cup in front of you, smiles apologetically, and restarts the machine.

You take tiny sips and close your eyes as your brain boots up like an outdated computer. 

-

You remember getting ready for your date, phone set up to film you as you twirl in your new red dress. 

“What do you think?” You ask and your best friend gives you a double thumbs up.

“You look so cute! He’s going to be head over heels for you!”

“I hope so. It’s my first time dating over an app, I have no idea how this works!”

“I hate that I can’t be there to stalk you. I’d sit behind a plant and spy on you and make sure he treats you well.”

“I know, I hate it too. But I can’t wait for you to come back from Paris to start dating. Are you still on with that Tendou Guy for tomorrow night?”

“He hasn’t ghosted me yet, so I’m hopeful. He sent a few memes over and he’s either had help or he’s the best kind of funny.”

“Aww, I hope it’s the last. Well, I have to go in a few minutes, so I’ll log off. I’ll send you updates through the night, okay?”

“Okay, have fun!”

…

“Have you decided yet?” The waitress is not much older than you. You wonder if you’d feel better or worse if she were older. She’s giving you a sympathetic smile and you know what she’s thinking. After all, you’ve been sitting at this table for two for over thirty minutes, clearly waiting on a date that’s not going to come.

“I… I’ll have a glass of wine.” You start, your voice a little shaky. “What entree would you suggest?”

There’s a business meeting on a table to your right and an older couple having dinner to your left. You’ve never felt so alone like you’re doing right now and even though you know it’s not your fault and that alcohol isn’t a solution for a problem like this, you can’t deny that the first glass makes you feel a little better.

The second glass makes you feel a little warmer too, something you welcome after wearing a dress that looks incredible on you but is nowhere near warm enough for a rainy night in early spring.

By the time the waitress hands you the dessert card you’re ready to order your third glass of wine. But just as you open your mouth, the chair that had been vacant ever since you came in, is pulled back.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” The man is pretty, tailored suit and bright, cat-like eyes, dark hair pulled back into a bun. “My meeting ran late.”

“I-what?” You eye him warily. He’s gorgeous, there’s no denying it, a 10 out of 10 whereas your date had been a solid six or maybe seven, at least that’s what you could tell from his pictures alone.

“You can leave the menu with me.” He turns to the waitress with a smile, taking the menu from her before taking a seat.

“I’m sorry.” He leans forward, whispering over the little candle burning in the middle of the table. “I noticed that you were eating alone and you seemed a little lost. I hope I’m not intruding, this isn’t… I normally don’t do stuff like this, but I’ve seen you around College before, so I thought… I’m Kenma, by the way. Kenma Kozume.”

“Oh…” Your voice comes out a little too loud and he blushes, lowers his head in a way that tells you more about him than his previous words had.

“What were you doing here? At the restaurant, I mean, when you saw me?”

“I was part of that business meeting. It went on for way too long but I couldn’t just get up and leave, I’m sorry.”

“Ah, sure. I mean, your boss would probably fire you, if you did. But he picked a nice restaurant for a meeting. The food here is good.”

“It is.” He smiles, just a slight quirk of his lips, but your heart responds as if he’d just confesse his love for you. He really is unfairly pretty.”

-

The coffee machine falls quiet again and you blink, refocus on the moment again.

“That was really nice of you.” You say, “To keep me company like that.”

“It was reckless, more likely. You were nice enough not to chase me away.”

“No, I had a good feeling about you.” You smile up at him, still standing next to the coffee machine. He seems so much easier to fluster now, at daybreak, than he was last night. Or maybe you’re just noticing it now that you have a steady gaze and a clear mind. 

“Who knows how much more wine I would have had without you.”

“You don’t handle your liquor well.” He points out, blushing as if realizing belatedly that that was rude.

Shame burns through you as you remember stumbling out of the restaurant as if your body had only registered all the alcohol the moment you’d stood up - late and all at once.

You must have looked a mess, and truthfully, you’d been one. 

You hadn’t even been able to remember your address, hanging off Kenma like a dead weight on the way to his car.

-

“I still owe you,” you remember, guilt coiling in your stomach. He’d paid for everything.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I can pay for my food. I mean, you let me sleep here too and the clothes-” You pick at the collar, a sudden realization flashing through you. “Your boyfriend will be horrified I slept in his clothes.”

“My boyfr-” Kenma stares at you, wide eyed, face paler than before. “What are you talking about?”

It’s a miracle he understands what you’re trying to say from the way you’re rambling now. You’ve lost sight of the point you were trying to make a while ago.

“I…” He’s glaring at the coffee machine now as if it had murdered his family or caused some other tragedy. “I’m not gay. I don’t have a boyfriend. Truth is I’ve noticed you. At College, like I said. I’m not that good at making friends but you seemed kind and interesting and… well, I didn't know how to approach you until I saw you at the restaurant. I couldn’t leave you there looking all pathetic.”

You snort. His eyes fly over, the sight of them - on you - making you breathless again. He really is unfairly pretty. 

“I don’t mind you making an ass of yourself. I’m as socially awkward as they come. I just…”

“Do you wanna get coffee together?” You ask. You know you’re getting ahead of yourself, but he’s cute and if you’re hangover brain isn’t reading everything wrong, he’s not against being friends with you.

Kenma blinks, holds up the coffee he made himself. It’s a question and an answer in itself.

You laugh.

“I mean a planned thing. Where I can dress up before and make sure I look presentable instead of looking like I’m trying to cosplay a Scarecrow.”

“You mean a date?” He asks, a faint blush on his cheeks.

Warmth bubbles in your chest. You lean your head to the side. “If you want it to be a date, it can be a date.”

He smiles, the motion lighting up his face. 

Your stomach flips a little at the sight and you wonder, really, just how you managed to turn a night around like that.

“Would it be terribly forward of me to ask you out right now?” Kenma asks. “I kinda like the Scarecrow Cosplay. Just don’t tell my best friend, I stole that shirt from him.”

…

Somewhere in Tokyo Kuroo sneezes loudly.

“Better take some Zinc,” he mutters to himself. “Don’t want to get sick.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[yeonzzzn]

⛸️snow & candles: sunghoon

a you complete me series: one / seven

pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader

word count: 2.1k

synopsis: the first snow fall of december just happened to be on sunghoon’s birthday

genre: established relationship, vampire!sunghoon, witch!reader

warnings: mentions of blood, reader has long black hair and facial piercings, stubbornly cute birthday boy sunghoon ♡

p1: vampires bleeding mlist

☾ sunghoon(1) | niki(2) | heeseung(3) | jungwon(4) | jake(5) | jay(6) | sunoo(7) ☽

You were the first to wake up this morning, leaving Sunghoon alone in the bed you share. The blanket pulled up to his nose as he was cuddled up on his side. 

You quietly changed out of your pajamas and into a nice ripped pair of skinny jeans, your black combat boots, your favorite gray long-sleeved shirt, and a brown cardigan sweater. 

Sitting at your vanity, you pulled your favorite rings onto your fingers. The scars from the burns that Dorian caused that unfortunate day, were now a light pink and not as noticeable, which you were thankful for. Sunghoon loved your scars, always saying they are proof of how you survived and how closer you are to a human than he was. Unfortunately, you still hated the scars after the full year since the events unfolded. 

You pulled your long black hair into your famous braid, leaving your bangs to fall beside your face. You changed out your black nose ring for a pretty silver to match your eyebrow piercing. 

You carefully slipped out of the bedroom, leaving Sunghoon to continue sleeping in peace. 

It was barely eight a.m. as you rushed to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. 

You poured the beans into the coffee maker and pressed the blind button, watching as the machine did its magic. 

The next on your morning bucket list was to pull Sunghoon’s birthday cake from the freezer. 

You were up all night baking it for him. Sunghoon told you to not worry about his birthday, that since he has eternity his birthday is just another regular day. But you didn’t share that opinion. 

It’s the first birthday you were spending with him, due to the unfortunate fact that Dorian’s stupid ass was causing problems and by the time everything was over, Sunghoon’s birthday was past. 

You pulled the blue and white cake from the freezer, carefully setting it on the crystal cake stand on your kitchen table. 

The coffee pot buzzed to show it was ready. You grabbed Sunghoon and your coffee cups from the cabinet, pouring coffee into your cup first, knowing Sunghoon would wake up at any minute at the smell of the coffee. 

You place cream and sugar into your cup and mix it with the coffee then sit down at the table, placing the cup to your lips, feeling the warmth. 

You took a few sips before looking around the empty kitchen and living room. 

After the ending of Dorian, one by one the pack members moved back into their own homes, except, of course, you and Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon and Jake shared an apartment before you and __ returned to them. So once it was time to leave the safe house, Sunghoon left the apartment to Jake and his mate. 

Sunghoon and you decided to buy this farmhouse outside of the city. You weren’t a city girl and Sunghoon was okay being wherever you were. So the farmhouse it was. It also made sense to live here, it made it easier for you to practice your magic peacefully without having to watch your back. 

You glanced at the photos of you and your vampire that filled the walls of the home along with bookshelves for your magical books of spells and all your witchy knickknacks. One family photo of the pack hung above the fireplace, everyone was in a group hug with massive smiles on their faces. It was one of your favorite photos. 

You took more sips of your coffee, wondering when your pretty vampire would rise from his coffin. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something fall outside through the window. 

You quickly glance up, your mouth forming into a smile. You finished the rest of your coffee, jumped from your chair, and rushed back to the bedroom. 

Your birthday plan for your vampire was to wait for him to wake up, share some coffee and kisses as you give him his cake and sing him his birthday song then spend the rest of the day doing whatever he’d liked. But now everything changed and it felt like fate. 

Sunghoon was still sleeping in the same position as earlier, which made it perfect for you. 

You knelt beside the bed, brushing your fingers against his cheek. 

Sunghoon melted at your touch, shifting his face slightly up and more into your hand. His eyes softly fluttered open, and then slowly closed again. You could tell he was practically still asleep. 

“Good morning, my love,” you whispered, rubbing your thumb over his jawline, “Time to get up.” 

Sunghoon softly groaned, shoving his face into the pillow. 

You rolled your eyes. You should have known he was going to be stubborn. 

“Get up bloodsucker, you’re burning daylight.” 

Sunghoon groaned again into the pillow, “Don’t want to.” 

“Come onnnnnn,” you said shaking his shoulders, “You can sleep when you’re dead!” 

“I am already dead,” he retorted, “Leave me alone.” 

You sighed, having to go to your last resort. You didn’t want to spoil what was happening, but you knew it was the only way, “It’s snowing outside.” 

And that’s all it took for him to climb out of bed and rush to the closet to change, “Well shit you should have said that earlier.” 

—

You followed behind Sunghoon as he ran out the front door, jumped off the porch, and ran through the snow. 

You wrapped your cardigan tightly around you, watching how happy your vampire was as he fell into the snow. 

You loved him. Oh god, you loved him and his beautiful smile. 

Sunghoon sat up in the snow, waving to you to join him. 

You carefully made your way down the steps, seeing that they iced over during the night. 

The way Sunghoon was sitting in the snow reminded you of a penguin. You always swore he had to have been a penguin in his past life. 

Sunghoon held his hand up, “Wait!” 

You stopped walking, raising a brow at him, “Yes?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket, “You look so beautiful with the snow falling into your hair, I need a photo of it.” 

“Hurry up, I’m freezing and want to go back inside.” 

You posed for the photo, waiting patiently for him to close his phone back into his pocket. 

He held his hands out to you, “Help me up.” 

You groaned as you reached your hands for his, only to be betrayed in the end. 

Sunghoon’s smile grew wide as he gripped your hands and pulled you down to him, rolling you over into the snow. 

“Sunghoon! Goddamnit!” You snapped, tossing snow at him. 

Sunghoon grabbed the hems of your cardigan and pulled you in for a quick kiss. His cold nose brushed against your skin, “Lighten up hex girl, it’s the first snow of winter.” 

You glared at him but decided to let it go since he was the birthday boy. 

As the sun rose more and the snow slowly stopped falling from the sky, the reflection of the light hit the large pond, catching your attention. 

You glanced behind your mate, seeing the pond completely frozen over the night. 

You smiled, happy that this day kept getting better. 

“Baby, the pond is frozen over.” 

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate to run back inside the house to grab his ice skates. 

—

You sat on the porch with another cup of coffee as you watched him skate. 

The pure joy on his face as he danced away on the ice. 

When the two of you picked out this farmhouse, the first thing Sunghoon mentioned was how excited he’d be once the pond froze over so he could skate. You bought him a pair of skates after that. 

You check the time on your phone, it’s almost eleven a.m. Sunghoon hasn’t drank yet today, and you still wanted to give him his cake. 

“My love!” You called for him, watching as he came to a spot. 

“Yes, my princess?” he yelled back. 

“It’s time to drink, come inside and warm up!” 

Sunghoon pouted but nodded. He knew if he didn’t listen, you would continue until he did. 

Sunghoon skated to the edge of the pond carefully stepping off the ice and into the snow, sitting down on the bench he placed there to switch out of his skates. 

While Sunghoon was busy changing back into his normal shoes, you quickly rushed inside the house. Placing the candles on the cake, lighting them with a snap of your fingers, and picking up the cake stand carefully. 

You grabbed a blood bag from the fridge on the way back out of the kitchen. 

Sunghoon stood from the bench and turned to see you standing on the porch with a cake and blood bag. What a beautiful combination. 

Sunghoon scoffed and smirked, shoving his free hand into his pocket and he walked over to you. 

Sunghoon hated celebrating his birthday. It was just another day for him. When you get to live forever, birthdays aren’t something to celebrate anymore. 

He couldn’t help but stare at you. His heart raced faster at your beautiful smile. God, he was so lucky. You made living for eternity so worth it. 

Sunghoon carefully walked up the steps, “I told you we didn’t need to celebrate my birthday,” he teased. 

You handed him his blood bag, “It’s our first time getting to celebrate it as a couple, let me have this bloodsucker.”

Sunghoon mimicked you, earning him your death glare. 

He smiled at you as he took the top off the bag and took a few sips of the blood, his eyes going back to the cake, “Don’t you know vampires don’t eat?” 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a groan, “God you fucking annoy me.” His chuckle filled your ears, “You guys CAN but it just doesn’t do it like blood does. Just see this as a small snack.” 

Sunghoon raised his brows at you, “That’s a massive cake, what’s small about it?” 

“Oh my god just finished your blood so you can blow out the candles and make a wish. Shit, you piss me off, bloodsucker.” 

“Woah, hold it there hex girl, I am the birthday boy, remember?” 

Sunghoon loved teasing you and wanted to continue, but decided to stop for now. 

He set his skates down on the porch and quickly sipped the rest of the blood, tossing the empty bag into the outside trash can. 

“Okay, I am ready to blow out the candles.” 

You smiled brightly, singing him a happy birthday, “Now make a wish!” 

Sunghoon didn’t even have to make a wish, he already had everything he needed. 

He blew the candles out, then took the cake stand from your hands. 

“Did you make a wish?” You asked, watching as he set the cake down on the outside table, “Tell me what you wished for!” 

Sunghoon wrapped his arms around you, pressing your body against his, leaving no space between. 

“Baby, I don’t need to make any wishes when you’re right here with me already.” 

You pouted your lips at him, “Awe that’s so sweet and super fucking gross.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, “You are so annoying, this is why witches and vampires don’t get along.” 

“Yet you’re stuck with me anyways.” You sang. 

Sunghoon nodded, carefully brushing your bangs out of your face, “And I am so thankful that I am.” 

Sunghoon wouldn’t know what he would have done if something happened to you a year ago. The time he spent alone when Dorian stole you from his side was a literal hell. He never wanted to experience that again. 

The pain he had to feel every single day. The sleepless nights. The endless thoughts of what he would do if you never returned to him or worse, if Dorian took you from him permanently. 

He stared deeply into your doe eyes, swearing he wouldn’t ever let anyone touch you again. He would kill anyone who would warm you again. 

Sunghoon took your chin between his fingers and lifted your face for a kiss. You tighten your arms around him as you softly kiss him back. 

You felt something wet drop on your cheek, looking up at the sky, “It’s snowing again.” 

Sunghoon also glanced up, his wide smile that showed off his natural fangs returning, “It’s like it’s snowing just for me.” 

You cupped his face, forcing him to look back at you, “Happy birthday, my sweet vampire, I love you so much.” 

Sunghoon planted a kiss on your forehead, squeezing you tightly, “I love you so much more.” 

If every birthday was like this for the rest of eternity, Sunghoon wouldn’t mind celebrating it every year with you again and again. 

[videostarblogs]

1. Twee

the fashion style of "twee" is a whimsical and nostalgic style that emerged in the 80s and gain popularity in the indie and alternative music scenes in the 2000s. it draws inspo from vintage and childlike elements, creating an aesthetic that is both innocent and playful. here is the full break down!!

origins and development

Twee fashion can trace its roots back to the DIY and thrift store culture of the 1980s, mostly in the UK. Bands like Belle and Sebastian and The Smiths, with their melancholic yet charming music, heavily influenced the early twee fashion. As indie and alternative music gained more traction n the 2000s, twee fashion experienced a "revival". Indie pop bands like Camera Obscura and The Magnetic Fields embodied the twee aesthetic, further popularizing it.

key motifs/feature

Vintage inspired: twee fashion often incorporates vintage clothing pieces. especially from the 1950s to the 1980s. think Peter pan collars, high waisted, a lines skirts, and cardigans.

warm colors: warm hues such a as warm brown, burnt sienna, and a warm honey yellow dominate the color palette of twee, but there is also more muted cooler tones as well like cyan and forest green

whimsical prints: prints with animal spots, floral, polka bots, swirls, and stripes are more common in twee fashions.

accessories: quirky accessories like novelty brooches, oversized bows, cat eye glasses and crocheted items are staples of the twee look, adding a playful touch to the outfits

other: twee fashions embraces the handmade aesthetic, with many enthusiast crafting their own clothing and accessories or supporting independent artisans and makers

music

twee fashion is closely associated with indie pop and twee pip music genres. Bands like Belle and Sebastian, The Vasalines, and Alvvays not only inspired the fashion but also serve as style icons for twee enthusiasts

Belle and Sebastian

The Boy Least Likely To

Beat Happening

Camera Obscura

The Magnetic Fields

Tullycraft

The Softies

Lucky Soul

The Moldy Peaches

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

movies

films like "amelie" and "moonrise kingdom" encapsulate the whimsy and nostalgia of twee fashion with their eccentric characters and visually stunning aesthetic, these movies often feature vintage inspired costumes and settings that resonate with the twee aesthetic

Amélie (2001)

Little Miss Sunshine (2006)

Juno (2007)

Whip It (2009)

The Kings of Summer (2013)

Chef (2014)

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (2013)

Moonrise Kingdom (2012)

School of Rock (2003)

Ruby Sparks (2012)

books and other medias

authors like haruki marukami and wes Anderson's films are often cited as influences on twee fashion due to their emphasis on quirky characters, nostalgic settings, and whimsical story telling.

moodboards

outfits

overall

twee fashion is a charming and lighthearted style that celebrates nostalgia, individuality and creativity!!

please leave a like and follow my blog for more fashion posts, playlists, and movie lists like these and leave suggestions on what to do next!!

videostar signing off...

[zombk1tty]

☆My Personal Headcanons for Fem NRC☆

Dorm: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

!!Warning Not ProofRead!!

Riddle — For F!Riddle I don’t think she would act any different from her male counter part behavior wise. On the other hand I do think she would own one of those ceramic tea sets that have a bunch of roses on them. Aside from that I also think she would wear bows, but not just any bows, ribbon bows(she’s inspired by Laufey). Speaking of which I think F!Riddle would listen to Laufey, Twice,(G)I-DLE (she keeps it to herself though). Adding on to that I think that her Father would have forced her to learn violin and only listen to classical music, so when she got to NRC she discovered more music. Cater or Trey have definitely walked in on her listening to one of them on accident and Cater teases her about time to time.

Trey — For F!Trey, I think that she is a die hard Crane Wives enjoyer(you can pry that from my cold dead hands). She would try to get F!Riddle to listen to them to try and help her find what music she likes that’s not classical. F!Trey most definitely has a light green apron that has stains on it that she cannot for the life of her. After than one incident in Book 1 where F!Ace and F!Deuce had to help bake a tart F!Trey got them aprons (that are light blue and red) afterwards since they showed interest in baking (only F!Duece, F!Ace would like to learn how to bake but wants to keep up her “trouble maker” persona).

Cater — For F!Cater she is definitely a Gyaru and when she’s in the comfort in her room she wears her old emo shirts(ex: band shirts)nobody can change my mind. She also has one of those 2000s flip phones that have a billion charms on them and acts like gossip girl when she’s talking to someone. She also has rillakuma onesie idk i just feel like she does. Also she wears her hair half up half down and her hair is halfway down her back. she also has 3 piercings on her left ear and 2 on her right. She also secretly listens to msi and hatsune miku.

Ace — Closeted Scene kid no one can change my kind. In middle school she had an emo boyfriend, they probably dated for 5 months. They definitely recreated that “Im at Burger King with my Burger queen” video. There is definitely traces of her being scene. F!Deuce found her secret stash of studded belts she was hiding and F!Ace threatened to delete all their progress on gta if she ever told anyone. She’s also a diehard Millionaires fan. She definitely read Twilight in middle school and was hooked. She’s definitely Team Edward, she just has a thing for vampires(F!Duece uses this against her). She also has 2 piercings on both ears.

Deuce — Was definitely a Gyaru in middle and is still recovering from spray tanning her skin and bleaching her hair. Now that she’s in NRC she’s trying to be one of those nice calm girls who get straight A’s, basically a model student(like original Deuce). Wears a bunch of cardigans since after middle she had an abundant of them and didn’t have the heart to throw them away. Plays gta and yakuza with F!Ace. Bonds with F!Ace over recovering from bleaching their hair. Whenever she sees F!Cater she just gets flashbacks from middle school( F!Cater is a kogyaru and F!Deuce was a gyaru ganguro). Has 2 piercings on her right ear and one on her left and definitely has a tongue piercing(that she secretly got in her gyaru ganguro days).

[postmodernbeliever]

Thoroughfare- Fox Mulder x Female Reader

Chapter Five: Two Creams, Two Sugars, and a Little Blood

table of contents <3

if you’d prefer my ao3 | word count: 3,750

TW: mentions of murder details, some slight graphic description.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You were running a little late, which meant you were scatterbrained to the nines. You managed to fall asleep at some point between when Fox left your room and when the rain stopped and you forgot to set your alarm, so now you tore through the motel room like a tornado. You were exhausted, all the residual stress and anxiety of yesterday catching up to you, and you weren’t even dressed by the time your partner came knocking at your door. Bright and early, too- seven in the morning- and he was chipper as a bird. You wondered if he ever slept because you could see the violet shadows that caused his green eyes to glow, but he was in far better shape than you were. You swung the door open and then shut it, realizing you had two rollers sitting matronly atop your head, and you were in a wrinkled dress shirt and pajama pants, squinting without any contacts in. You opened it again, revealing just a sliver of yourself to a bewildered face.

“Woah. Good morning, sunshine,” Fox sing-songed. 

You peeked through the crack of the doorway, and he was smiling sweetly at you, holding two paper cups. He nudged the door open to hand you the coffee, which you took gratefully, feeling the crabbiness of caffeine deficiency creeping up already. You were almost jealous of how easy it must be for him to wake up and get ready. His hair was tucked tidily atop his forehead, but he was not dressed in uniform- all he wore was a pair of slacks and a blue button-down, no tie, with the sleeves rolled up. You knew he was smarter for it because the mugginess hit you smack in the face when you opened the door, but you got a whiff of the piney scent he wore and knew he probably rolled out of bed ten minutes ago just looking alright to begin with. How nice would it be to look like that in just a few minutes, needing only a comb and some cologne to make you presentable? If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve seen him wearing something like this on a date, all laid-back, careless, dripping with charm as always…

Visibly flustered, you croaked, “Morning. Thank you,”

“Yeah, no problem. They have a coffee maker in the office. It’s not great, but after last night, I don’t trust any of those shops in town claiming they’ve got the best coffee in Marysville,” Fox joked, “You, uh, you don’t look ready,” 

“Sorry,” you winced, “I overslept.”

“It’s okay. They want us down at the M.E.’s office, but we have a little time. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ll just be a minute!”

You made him stand outside as you shuffled into a pencil skirt, hoping it was wiser for the weather, and tugged a little cardigan over your creased blouse. You grabbed your makeup pouch and took it with you, hoping he wouldn’t pay much attention to your bare face. He may have seen you last night, but you’d already convinced yourself that it was dark enough to hide anything of notoriety. The agent chuckled when you opened the door again, seeing your arms full with a coat that it was far too hot out for, the coffee, a loose gun and badge, a glasses case, your hairbrush– you looked like you just looted a house of all its most unimportant belongings. 

“Let me take that for you,” he stole the coffee back and walked you to the truck parked outside your rooms, opening the door for you. You hopped inside and threw your crap in the backseat, and he slid into the driver’s side, setting your drinks down in the cupholders. He started the truck and gave the engine a minute to warm up, reaching for the Kansas map that you left on the dashboard, but he wasn’t really looking for directions to meet the coroner. He peeked at you in his peripheral, watching as you swiped some kind of sheer powder across your face, smoothing your complexion over. He never noticed the little beauty mark on the bridge of your nose, but now he watched you paint over it, and he wished you wouldn’t. You’ve gotten ready like this before, he could tell; you had the motions down, knowing exactly how not to poke your eyes out with the mascara and not to overdo the blush in the car. When he felt like he’d sufficiently given the engine enough time, he placed the map down between you two on the bench and shifted it into reverse. 

“You okay if I start driving?”

You turned to him, mid-lipstick swipe, and you nodded. “Sure. I don���t look like a mess, do I?” Fox admired how you pushed your glasses on, adding, “I forgot about my contacts. I feel like a librarian.”

“No. You look… smart.”

“Wow, thanks,” you giggled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll try not to take that as an insult.”

“Well, who wants to look stupid?”

Yours challenged the flush of his cheeks, and you rolled down the window, letting some of the hot air out of the car. He began to back out of the motel, taking a right onto the main road.

You’d never seen the Midwest in the morning. The sun wasn’t high yet, so everything had a soft, golden tone to it; the wheat fields swayed, lining the street into town, homes croaked on sprawling acres, and street signs were so faded you had to rely on the shapes to conclude the directions they gave. It was silent, only birds and wind. You liked this part of the middle of nowhere. Back in D.C., and even worse in New York, people are everywhere, clogging the streets until they burst, cutting you off and giving you the finger. You can’t get a seat at a restaurant. You have to get put on a list for bestsellers at the library. But out here, life is slow. There’s always room to breathe, and to look up and see actual stars, rather than cloudy, light-polluted skies. Something about that spoke to you. You found yourself thinking that maybe someday when your work was done with law enforcement, and you have some money put away, you could come back out here and buy a little bungalow and live out the rest of your days in a place where you don’t have to worry about running out of space and time. Fox seemed to enjoy the quaintness of it all, too, because he was quiet as a mouse beside you. 

Fox drove straight through town, and you finally got a glimpse of what the local life looked like as you passed. There weren’t many men around, but given that it was mainly an agricultural economy down here, they were probably out working on the farms. But there were pretty women in sundresses crawling up and down the streets with coffee cups and big purses, hair done up like it was a Sunday; little kids were scuttling down the sidewalks towards the school near the police station. You spotted Sheriff Hale’s car parked outside the bakery, but no one inside. 

“Wonder where all these people were yesterday,” you observed.

“At the crime scene,” your partner answered, shooting you an apologetic glance. “I think we showed up at an unusual time.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You rolled the window up a bit, knowing you were allowing your hair to poof up like yesterday. You settled against the bench seat and took up the map, flipping to the larger scale with the main country road running through. With your finger, you followed it to the county medical examiner's office, which was a whopping sixty miles from Marysville. You knew this place was a blip on the radar, but you had no idea just how far away you were from civilization. Fox’s screw-ups getting you both here had skewed your sense of direction.

“Jeez, we’ve got a while to go. You see this?” You asked, pointing to the location. 

Fox glanced over and gave a wry chuckle. “Yeah. Straight shot up. We should get there in a little over an hour if I ignore these speed limits,” he winked, pointing to a sign. 

You watched it fly by, announcing the stretch of road was a 35 miles per hour zone, and you smiled. Flopping the map onto the dashboard, you reached for your cup of coffee and took a sip, relishing in the room-temperature taste. It tasted good for about a second, and then it turned sour on your tongue. No cream, no sugar. Your face scrunched up and you smacked your lips. Fox seemed to have his own lightbulb going off, and he kept one hand on the wheel while he reached across your lap to open up the glove compartment. You drew in a short breath as his arm brushed against your thigh, and when he uprighted himself, you huffed in frustration. 

“You could’ve swerved us into the field, Fox. Why don’t you let me open the damn thing? I’m sitting right in front of it!”

“Jeez. We’re on the road, aren’t we, Piglet?” he mocked, gesturing for you to look inside. A mess of pink sugar packets and little cream containers littered the compartment, and he giggled, “I didn’t know how you liked your coffee.”

A shameful heat flooded your chest, and you shut your mouth. 

“You’re welcome.”

You grabbed two creams and two sugars, and as you stirred them into the chilling coffee with your finger, Fox made a note of how you took it and kept driving. You piped down and watched the scenery go by, all yellow fields and blue sky, and wondered what they might have found regarding Liane’s death. What you were aware of from the case files was the girls were all beaten and penetrated postmortem, but in the last murders, the object of violation wasn’t ever identified. There was no clear definition of the instrument used in the mutilation of their bodies, either. Everything was suspiciously contactless, like whoever was murdering these teenagers never had to lay a hand on them to do it; you weren’t sure how that was possible, and you weren’t convinced it was. Someone had to be committing these crimes. It was just in a way you’d never seen. 

You were engrossed in your thoughts when Fox began to slow the car to a stop in the center of the road. You saw his attention being drawn by a dilapidated building on the side of the route– a building that could barely fit twenty people was rotting all over, with an eaten-away roof and rusted windows. You would’ve assumed it to be an abandoned shack if it weren’t for the silver cross nailed to the front door. 

“Is that a church?”

“I think so. It’s not on the map.” Fox replied, turning off the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Hey, wait, we have to get to the–”

“I’ll only be a minute. It’s not like anyone’s driving out here anyway.”

You watched the man slip out of the car and trot around the front, heading off the road. You sat for a second, watching him disappear into the overgrown weeds, and a pressure began to inflate in your chest. 

“Damn it.”

You unbuckled yourself and hopped out of the car, leaving your door wide open as you followed in his footsteps. You watched the church door close, his hands slipping out of view behind it, and you groaned. You patted your hip to find you forgot to grab your gun, so you prayed to God that these wouldn’t be your last moments alive, stranded in Kansas with Spooky Mulder. You walked up to the door, looking back to check no one was coming on the road, and you huffed, pulling it open. Stepping inside, you instantly felt disgusting. It was dark and windowless, trapping all the heat in a dead building where mold was absolutely growing within the walls. The only light inside poked through holes in the wood where bugs probably had eaten through, and everything was upturned or offset. It looked like people had left in a hurry- there was still a cloth atop the altar, and Bibles were discarded on the six slender pews filling the room. You looked around for Fox, walking further down the aisle when you heard a creaking from somewhere behind you. Turning quickly on your heels, you saw nobody by the door, and then a creak sounded again, this time too quick for you to locate its direction. You slowly turned back towards the alter, and when your eyes caught up with your body, the agent appeared but inches from your face, holding a flashlight and shining it on a creepy expression. You yelped and turned away from him, covering your face. 

“Fuck! You scared me, Fox!”

“Peace be with you,” he wiggled his eyebrows, digging into that creepy smile.

“Not funny.”

“What, you don’t enjoy a little blasphemy? I thought you weren’t religious.”

“Not particularly,” you grumbled, “But I don’t like getting snuck up on. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Fox dropped the flashlight and let his expression mold into something much more like himself, and he hummed. “Good to know.”

You pushed past him and stepped up onto the stage, feeling a bit odd. If your father were here, he wouldve insisted you make the sign of the cross and kneel before it, but you haven’t done that in quite a while. Instead, you paced the sinking platform, running your fingers over the dust-covered podium and chairs. 

“What do you think happened here?”

“I don’t know. The rapture?” Fox scoffed, picking up a Bible that was hanging split open over the back of a pew, and flipping through the thin pages. “Looks like everyone up and left.”

“Yeah,” 

You walked to the back wall, in front of the chairs, where there was a little wooden trapdoor. You tugged it open, fighting with the swollen lumber, and inside was a silver bowl full of what looked like wine, and beside it, a torn-open package of Eucharist. 

“Hey, come look at this,” you called for your partner, and he stepped out of the pews to meet you at the altar. 

Upon seeing the contents inside the wall, he asked, “What is this, like, a makeshift tabernacle?”

“Might be. But this bowl looks polished, and…” you paused to reach into the Eucharist bag, taking one and popping it into your mouth, “These are fresh, not stale.”

“You think someone’s been back to replace the bread and body?”

Curiously, you dipped your fingertip into the wine, and a violent chill ran down your back. The liquid was a familiar viscosity as it ran down into your palm, staining the creases. You drew the bowl out of the cupboard and carefully raised it to your nose, and a gag rose in your throat. 

“That’s not wine,” you choked, “Jesus!”

Fox leaned down to sniff it, catching the metallic warning, and his eyes blew wide with shock. “Blood.”

You put the bowl back inside the cupboard and shut the door, feeling an anxiety swell in your chest. You stared at the brownish-red on your finger and thought of how it once belonged to somebody, and now it was sitting inside an abandoned church. You stumbled back like you were learning to walk, heading down the altar steps and to the pews.

“Can we please get out of here?” You pleaded at Fox, who stood at the tabernacle making faces. 

“You know, now that I think of it, the other girls in the file had a loss of blood reported in their autopsies. Each a few pints. I figured it was a result of the mutilation of their chest cavities, but it could be possible that some of the blood was for sacrifice…”

“You think this has to do with the case?”

Fox began to pace, spanning the church from wall to wall as he mused. “Think about it. Whoever’s killing these girls is doing it for some divine purpose, right? What if they’re making sacrifices to God with their blood, the blood of another who’s untainted and innocent as Jesus Christ?”

“Fox–”

“No, seriously, it makes sense! This guy is clearly working in the shadow of Iscariot, and if that guy had a connection to the real Judas, wouldn’t he need to atone for his sins passed down through history? By sacrificing pure blood to God he could be saving himself from damnation in his own twisted way. Maybe his God-fearing devotion drives him to kill, to make up for Judas’ betrayal.”

“But the sacrifice of human blood isn’t exactly Catholic,” you pointed out. 

“Sure it is, people drink it every Sunday!”

“Yeah, but that’s not–”

“You were not redeemed with corruptible things as gold and silver, but with the precious blood of Christ, as a lamb unspotted and defiled,” the man recited, “Peter 1:18. Maybe it’s not widley known as human sacrifice, but Christ and the lamb are thought of as one. Maybe this guy is recreating the sacrifice in the hopes that he will be forgiven. Offering up sacrificial lambs to win the favor of Heaven.”

Fox reached to open the tabernacle again, then hesitated. Turning to you, he asked, “Would you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Could you go grab my coffee cup from the truck?”

You looked at his hand on the tabernacle door, and looked to the blood on your palm, and you rolled your eyes in utter disbelief. “Fox, no way.”

“If I had a vile, I’d ask for that, but–”

“You are not going to bring that shit into our rental car!”

“What if this blood belongs to Liane, Ro? We owe it to her to find out what happened. And maybe it isn’t hers, but it’s someone’s, isn’t it? What if he’s already got another victim?”

“We don’t even know if it’s our guy!”

Fox shot you a look that said, You know it is. He wasn’t going to budge, and you knew it. You watched him open the cupboard and take the bowl out, carefully walking it to the table at the altar. Even if you wanted to leave and forget you ever stumbled upon this shithole, you knew he was right. Churches don’t store human blood in silver bowls, and if that belonged to someone who could be in danger or already dead, it was your duty to find out. You let out a stressed groan and hurried out the front door, jogging back to the truck. The sudden sunshine strained your eyes, but even through a squint in both directions on the road, there was still not a soul to be seen out there. You leaned in through the open passenger side door, fished his empty coffee cup from the cupholder, and hurried back inside where the man waited with the bowl in his hands. 

“It’s gonna be contaminated,” you nagged.

“Well, we can’t just leave it here. You know that.”

Fox was careful to only pour a little of the blood into the cup, and even more careful not to spill it on you or the mildewed carpet. Once there was an espresso shot’s worth, he tipped the bowl back level and shoved it in the tabernacle, shutting the door tight on it. You fastened the lid onto the cup and held it between two fingers, freaking out just to have it in your grasp. You followed the man down the steps again, and he held the church doors open for you, which you walked through quickly, hoping it would be the last time you ever had to. 

“We can get this tested at the county morgue, they can test it alongside Liane’s blood to see if there’s a match,” Fox explained, taking the evidence from your hand as you hopped into the truck.

You placed your dirty hand on the door handle and said, “You’re crazy.”

“We would’ve never found it if I wasn’t.”

He shut your door for you, and then he clambered behind the wheel, placing the blood down beside your coffee cup, which you elected to have no more of. As he started up the engine and remind himself of how many more miles he had to go on the map, you tapped his shoulder. The two of you gazed through the windshield as a little truck with a tow attachment sped past, the first car you’d seen all day. Inside was a pale man, one you didn’t get a good look at, but you saw his dark hair and small eyes, and as he drove by you felt the presence of him like an omen. You remembered how it felt to look at Liane’s cold face, and recognized the feeling as the same. Maybe you were just on edge, but everything about this felt very, very wrong. 

“Something’s off about that guy,” Fox scratched his forehead in thought, “Should we follow him?”

“What? No. We’re going to see the medical examiner. Now.”

“Well–”

“Fox, you dragged me into a church and made me put blood into a coffee cup. Drive.”

“You could’ve waited in the car–”

“I said drive!”

Fox raised his palms in surrender and chuckled, shifting the car into gear and pedaling away down the road. You watched the run-down church grow small in the rearview mirror until it disappeared, and you wondered what happened inside. Maybe everyone did get up and leave. Maybe a Mass had gone horribly wrong. Maybe teenagers broke in and trashed the place. Maybe God had come down, or He had brought them up. But of all the theories you could draw, not one of them explained what that blood was doing inside the wall, and even if it was your job, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to know. Liane’s face flashed before your eyes as you closed them and slumped in your seat. Fox watched you out of the corner of his eye, and he saw the blood on your finger, and he hoped that you’d come away from this case with more than just resentment for his insane methods. He kept driving, and you kept breathing, and the both of you prayed that the medical examiner hadn’t called the Bureau about the agents who were an hour late for their meeting. 

You were running a little late, which meant you were scatterbrained to the nines. You managed to fall asleep at some point between when Fox left your room and when the rain stopped and you forgot to set your alarm, so now you tore through the motel room like a tornado. You were exhausted, all the residual stress and anxiety of yesterday catching up to you, and you weren’t even dressed by the time your partner came knocking at your door. Bright and early, too- seven in the morning- and he was chipper as a bird. You wondered if he ever slept because you could see the violet shadows that caused his green eyes to glow, but he was in far better shape than you were. You swung the door open and then shut it, realizing you had two rollers sitting matronly atop your head, and you were in a wrinkled dress shirt and pajama pants, squinting without any contacts in. You opened it again, revealing just a sliver of yourself to a bewildered face.

“Woah. Good morning, sunshine,” Fox sing-songed. 

You peeked through the crack of the doorway, and he was smiling sweetly at you, holding two paper cups. He nudged the door open to hand you the coffee, which you took gratefully, feeling the crabbiness of caffeine deficiency creeping up already. You were almost jealous of how easy it must be for him to wake up and get ready. His hair was tucked tidily atop his forehead, but he was not dressed in uniform- all he wore was a pair of slacks and a blue button-down, no tie, with the sleeves rolled up. You knew he was smarter for it because the mugginess hit you smack in the face when you opened the door, but you got a whiff of the piney scent he wore and knew he probably rolled out of bed ten minutes ago just looking alright to begin with. How nice would it be to look like that in just a few minutes, needing only a comb and some cologne to make you presentable? If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve seen him wearing something like this on a date, all laid-back, careless, dripping with charm as always…

Visibly flustered, you croaked, “Morning. Thank you,”

“Yeah, no problem. They have a coffee maker in the office. It’s not great, but after last night, I don’t trust any of those shops in town claiming they’ve got the best coffee in Marysville,” Fox joked, “You, uh, you don’t look ready,” 

“Sorry,” you winced, “I overslept.”

“It’s okay. They want us down at the M.E.’s office, but we have a little time. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ll just be a minute!”

You made him stand outside as you shuffled into a pencil skirt, hoping it was wiser for the weather, and tugged a little cardigan over your creased blouse. You grabbed your makeup pouch and took it with you, hoping he wouldn’t pay much attention to your bare face. He may have seen you last night, but you’d already convinced yourself that it was dark enough to hide anything of notoriety. The agent chuckled when you opened the door again, seeing your arms full with a coat that it was far too hot out for, the coffee, a loose gun and badge, a glasses case, your hairbrush– you looked like you just looted a house of all its most unimportant belongings. 

“Let me take that for you,” he stole the coffee back and walked you to the truck parked outside your rooms, opening the door for you. You hopped inside and threw your crap in the backseat, and he slid into the driver’s side, setting your drinks down in the cupholders. He started the truck and gave the engine a minute to warm up, reaching for the Kansas map that you left on the dashboard, but he wasn’t really looking for directions to meet the coroner. He peeked at you in his peripheral, watching as you swiped some kind of sheer powder across your face, smoothing your complexion over. He never noticed the little beauty mark on the bridge of your nose, but now he watched you paint over it, and he wished you wouldn’t. You’ve gotten ready like this before, he could tell; you had the motions down, knowing exactly how not to poke your eyes out with the mascara and not to overdo the blush in the car. When he felt like he’d sufficiently given the engine enough time, he placed the map down between you two on the bench and shifted it into reverse. 

“You okay if I start driving?”

You turned to him, mid-lipstick swipe, and you nodded. “Sure. I don’t look like a mess, do I?” Fox admired how you pushed your glasses on, adding, “I forgot about my contacts. I feel like a librarian.”

“No. You look… smart.”

“Wow, thanks,” you giggled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll try not to take that as an insult.”

“Well, who wants to look stupid?”

Yours challenged the flush of his cheeks, and you rolled down the window, letting some of the hot air out of the car. He began to back out of the motel, taking a right onto the main road.

You’d never seen the Midwest in the morning. The sun wasn’t high yet, so everything had a soft, golden tone to it; the wheat fields swayed, lining the street into town, homes croaked on sprawling acres, and street signs were so faded you had to rely on the shapes to conclude the directions they gave. It was silent, only birds and wind. You liked this part of the middle of nowhere. Back in D.C., and even worse in New York, people are everywhere, clogging the streets until they burst, cutting you off and giving you the finger. You can’t get a seat at a restaurant. You have to get put on a list for bestsellers at the library. But out here, life is slow. There’s always room to breathe, and to look up and see actual stars, rather than cloudy, light-polluted skies. Something about that spoke to you. You found yourself thinking that maybe someday when your work was done with law enforcement, and you have some money put away, you could come back out here and buy a little bungalow and live out the rest of your days in a place where you don’t have to worry about running out of space and time. Fox seemed to enjoy the quaintness of it all, too, because he was quiet as a mouse beside you. 

Fox drove straight through town, and you finally got a glimpse of what the local life looked like as you passed. There weren’t many men around, but given that it was mainly an agricultural economy down here, they were probably out working on the farms. But there were pretty women in sundresses crawling up and down the streets with coffee cups and big purses, hair done up like it was a Sunday; little kids were scuttling down the sidewalks towards the school near the police station. You spotted Sheriff Hale’s car parked outside the bakery, but no one inside. 

“Wonder where all these people were yesterday,” you observed.

“At the crime scene,” your partner answered, shooting you an apologetic glance. “I think we showed up at an unusual time.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You rolled the window up a bit, knowing you were allowing your hair to poof up like yesterday. You settled against the bench seat and took up the map, flipping to the larger scale with the main country road running through. With your finger, you followed it to the county medical examiner's office, which was a whopping sixty miles from Marysville. You knew this place was a blip on the radar, but you had no idea just how far away you were from civilization. Fox’s screw-ups getting you both here had skewed your sense of direction.

“Jeez, we’ve got a while to go. You see this?” You asked, pointing to the location. 

Fox glanced over and gave a wry chuckle. “Yeah. Straight shot up. We should get there in a little over an hour if I ignore these speed limits,” he winked, pointing to a sign. 

You watched it fly by, announcing the stretch of road was a 35 miles per hour zone, and you smiled. Flopping the map onto the dashboard, you reached for your cup of coffee and took a sip, relishing in the room-temperature taste. It tasted good for about a second, and then it turned sour on your tongue. No cream, no sugar. Your face scrunched up and you smacked your lips. Fox seemed to have his own lightbulb going off, and he kept one hand on the wheel while he reached across your lap to open up the glove compartment. You drew in a short breath as his arm brushed against your thigh, and when he uprighted himself, you huffed in frustration. 

“You could’ve swerved us into the field, Fox. Why don’t you let me open the damn thing? I’m sitting right in front of it!”

“Jeez. We’re on the road, aren’t we, Piglet?” he mocked, gesturing for you to look inside. A mess of pink sugar packets and little cream containers littered the compartment, and he giggled, “I didn’t know how you liked your coffee.”

A shameful heat flooded your chest, and you shut your mouth. 

“You’re welcome.”

You grabbed two creams and two sugars, and as you stirred them into the chilling coffee with your finger, Fox made a note of how you took it and kept driving. You piped down and watched the scenery go by, all yellow fields and blue sky, and wondered what they might have found regarding Liane’s death. What you were aware of from the case files was the girls were all beaten and penetrated postmortem, but in the last murders, the object of violation wasn’t ever identified. There was no clear definition of the instrument used in the mutilation of their bodies, either. Everything was suspiciously contactless, like whoever was murdering these teenagers never had to lay a hand on them to do it; you weren’t sure how that was possible, and you weren’t convinced it was. Someone had to be committing these crimes. It was just in a way you’d never seen. 

You were engrossed in your thoughts when Fox began to slow the car to a stop in the center of the road. You saw his attention being drawn by a dilapidated building on the side of the route– a building that could barely fit twenty people was rotting all over, with an eaten-away roof and rusted windows. You would’ve assumed it to be an abandoned shack if it weren’t for the silver cross nailed to the front door. 

“Is that a church?”

“I think so. It’s not on the map.” Fox replied, turning off the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Hey, wait, we have to get to the–”

“I’ll only be a minute. It’s not like anyone’s driving out here anyway.”

You watched the man slip out of the car and trot around the front, heading off the road. You sat for a second, watching him disappear into the overgrown weeds, and a pressure began to inflate in your chest. 

“Damn it.”

You unbuckled yourself and hopped out of the car, leaving your door wide open as you followed in his footsteps. You watched the church door close, his hands slipping out of view behind it, and you groaned. You patted your hip to find you forgot to grab your gun, so you prayed to God that these wouldn’t be your last moments alive, stranded in Kansas with Spooky Mulder. You walked up to the door, looking back to check no one was coming on the road, and you huffed, pulling it open. Stepping inside, you instantly felt disgusting. It was dark and windowless, trapping all the heat in a dead building where mold was absolutely growing within the walls. The only light inside poked through holes in the wood where bugs probably had eaten through, and everything was upturned or offset. It looked like people had left in a hurry- there was still a cloth atop the altar, and Bibles were discarded on the six slender pews filling the room. You looked around for Fox, walking further down the aisle when you heard a creaking from somewhere behind you. Turning quickly on your heels, you saw nobody by the door, and then a creak sounded again, this time too quick for you to locate its direction. You slowly turned back towards the alter, and when your eyes caught up with your body, the agent appeared but inches from your face, holding a flashlight and shining it on a creepy expression. You yelped and turned away from him, covering your face. 

“Fuck! You scared me, Fox!”

“Peace be with you,” he wiggled his eyebrows, digging into that creepy smile.

“Not funny.”

“What, you don’t enjoy a little blasphemy? I thought you weren’t religious.”

“Not particularly,” you grumbled, “But I don’t like getting snuck up on. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Fox dropped the flashlight and let his expression mold into something much more like himself, and he hummed. “Good to know.”

You pushed past him and stepped up onto the stage, feeling a bit odd. If your father were here, he would've insisted you make the sign of the cross and kneel before it, but you haven’t done that in quite a while. Instead, you paced the sinking platform, running your fingers over the dust-covered podium and chairs. 

“What do you think happened here?”

“I don’t know. The rapture?” Fox scoffed, picking up a Bible that was hanging split open over the back of a pew, and flipping through the thin pages. “Looks like everyone up and left.”

“Yeah,” 

You walked to the back wall, in front of the chairs, where there was a little wooden trapdoor. You tugged it open, fighting with the swollen lumber, and inside was a silver bowl full of what looked like wine, and beside it, a torn-open package of Eucharist. 

“Hey, come look at this,” you called for your partner, and he stepped out of the pews to meet you at the altar. 

Upon seeing the contents inside the wall, he asked, “What is this, like, a makeshift tabernacle?”

“Might be. But this bowl looks polished, and…” you paused to reach into the Eucharist bag, taking one and popping it into your mouth, “These are fresh, not stale.”

“You think someone’s been back to replace the bread and body?”

Curiously, you dipped your fingertip into the wine, and a violent chill ran down your back. The liquid was a familiar viscosity as it ran down into your palm, staining the creases. You drew the bowl out of the cupboard and carefully raised it to your nose, and a gag rose in your throat. 

“That’s not wine,” you choked, “Jesus!”

Fox leaned down to sniff it, catching the metallic warning, and his eyes blew wide with shock. “Blood.”

You put the bowl back inside the cupboard and shut the door, feeling an anxiety swell in your chest. You stared at the brownish-red on your finger and thought of how it once belonged to somebody, and now it was sitting inside an abandoned church. You stumbled back like you were learning to walk, heading down the altar steps and to the pews.

“Can we please get out of here?” You pleaded at Fox, who stood at the tabernacle making faces. 

“You know, now that I think of it, the other girls in the file had a loss of blood reported in their autopsies. Each a few pints. I figured it was a result of the mutilation of their chest cavities, but it could be possible that some of the blood was for sacrifice…”

“You think this has to do with the case?”

Fox began to pace, spanning the church from wall to wall as he mused. “Think about it. Whoever’s killing these girls is doing it for some divine purpose, right? What if they’re making sacrifices to God with their blood, the blood of another who’s untainted and innocent as Jesus Christ?”

“Fox–”

“No, seriously, it makes sense! This guy is clearly working in the shadow of Iscariot, and if that guy had a connection to the real Judas, wouldn’t he need to atone for his sins passed down through history? By sacrificing pure blood to God he could be saving himself from damnation in his own twisted way. Maybe his God-fearing devotion drives him to kill, to make up for Judas’ betrayal.”

“But the sacrifice of human blood isn’t exactly Catholic,” you pointed out. 

“Sure it is, people drink it every Sunday!”

“Yeah, but that’s not–”

“You were not redeemed with corruptible things as gold and silver, but with the precious blood of Christ, as a lamb unspotted and defiled,” the man recited, “Peter 1:18. Maybe it’s not widley known as human sacrifice, but Christ and the lamb are thought of as one. Maybe this guy is recreating the sacrifice in the hopes that he will be forgiven. Offering up sacrificial lambs to win the favor of Heaven.”

Fox reached to open the tabernacle again, then hesitated. Turning to you, he asked, “Would you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Could you go grab my coffee cup from the truck?”

You looked at his hand on the tabernacle door, and looked to the blood on your palm, and you rolled your eyes in utter disbelief. “Fox, no way.”

“If I had a vile, I’d ask for that, but–”

“You are not going to bring that shit into our rental car!”

“What if this blood belongs to Liane, Ro? We owe it to her to find out what happened. And maybe it isn’t hers, but it’s someone’s, isn’t it? What if he’s already got another victim?”

“We don’t even know if it’s our guy!”

Fox shot you a look that said, You know it is. He wasn’t going to budge, and you knew it. You watched him open the cupboard and take the bowl out, carefully walking it to the table at the altar. Even if you wanted to leave and forget you ever stumbled upon this shithole, you knew he was right. Churches don’t store human blood in silver bowls, and if that belonged to someone who could be in danger or already dead, it was your duty to find out. You let out a stressed groan and hurried out the front door, jogging back to the truck. The sudden sunshine strained your eyes, but even through a squint in both directions on the road, there was still not a soul to be seen out there. You leaned in through the open passenger side door, fished his empty coffee cup from the cupholder, and hurried back inside where the man waited with the bowl in his hands. 

“It’s gonna be contaminated,” you nagged.

“Well, we can’t just leave it here. You know that.”

Fox was careful to only pour a little of the blood into the cup, and even more careful not to spill it on you or the mildewed carpet. Once there was an espresso shot’s worth, he tipped the bowl back level and shoved it in the tabernacle, shutting the door tight on it. You fastened the lid onto the cup and held it between two fingers, freaking out just to have it in your grasp. You followed the man down the steps again, and he held the church doors open for you, which you walked through quickly, hoping it would be the last time you ever had to. 

“We can get this tested at the county morgue, they can test it alongside Liane’s blood to see if there’s a match,” Fox explained, taking the evidence from your hand as you hopped into the truck.

You placed your dirty hand on the door handle and said, “You’re crazy.”

“We would’ve never found it if I wasn’t.”

He shut your door for you, and then he clambered behind the wheel, placing the blood down beside your coffee cup, which you elected to have no more of. As he started up the engine and remind himself of how many more miles he had to go on the map, you tapped his shoulder. The two of you gazed through the windshield as a little truck with a tow attachment sped past, the first car you’d seen all day. Inside was a pale man, one you didn’t get a good look at, but you saw his dark hair and small eyes, and as he drove by you felt the presence of him like an omen. You remembered how it felt to look at Liane’s cold face, and recognized the feeling as the same. Maybe you were just on edge, but everything about this felt very, very wrong. 

“Something’s off about that guy,” Fox scratched his forehead in thought, “Should we follow him?”

“What? No. We’re going to see the medical examiner. Now.”

“Well–”

“Fox, you dragged me into a church and made me put blood into a coffee cup. Drive.”

“You could’ve waited in the car–”

“I said drive!”

Fox raised his palms in surrender and chuckled, shifting the car into gear and pedaling away down the road. You watched the run-down church grow small in the rearview mirror until it disappeared, and you wondered what happened inside. Maybe everyone did get up and leave. Maybe a Mass had gone horribly wrong. Maybe teenagers broke in and trashed the place. Maybe God had come down, or He had brought them up. But of all the theories you could draw, not one of them explained what that blood was doing inside the wall, and even if it was your job, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to know. Liane’s face flashed before your eyes as you closed them and slumped in your seat. Fox watched you out of the corner of his eye, and he saw the blood on your finger, and he hoped that you’d come away from this case with more than just resentment for his insane methods. He kept driving, and you kept breathing, and the both of you prayed that the medical examiner hadn’t called the Bureau about the agents who were an hour late for their meeting. 

[wessie-in-pjs]

This is Dawn!

And she is the One Piece.

You would think the One Piece would be a large sum of berries or gold, but no. It’s a little girl with a fish tail.

She’s been waiting for the next king for about 25 years, until finally he gets to Laughtale.

Luffy and the gang arrive to find a small, blue haired, fish tailed girl. She introduces herself.

“Hi!! Hi!!!! Are you the king?? I’ve been waiting for you! It’s been a long time, longer than I’ve had to wait so far- oh! My name is dawn!”

Everyone is confused (Luffy is very curious). Who is this girl?

“Oh right!! Roger said that people don’t know my name anymore. He said to introduce myself as One Piece?”

Luffy laughs and picks her up.

And off they set, determined to shape the world to fit their ideals.

So here’s my One Piece au!!!

I have dubbed it Dawn Piece! (#Dawn Piece au)

TLDR; One Piece is a girl named Dawn who is a deity from a long long time ago. She is the daughter of the sea and she made devil fruits but sorta fucked it up and people got mad at her, time skip, she’s the devil who made the fruits.

She gets a piece of clothing giving her a hint as to who the next king is, she gets a cardigan for Luffy.

Dawn Island was named after a long forgotten deity.

She helps the kings in their ideals for the world. (She wants to make the world free for Luffy) (she wants to do these things, it isn’t like a genie situation)

So the One Piece is this little girl named Dawn.

Dawn Island was named after a long forgotten god.

The One Piece is sort of like a wish maker, her ideals align with the ideals of her “king,” and she has been “passed down” for generations upon generations to shape the world anew.

Luffy’s ideal would be freedom, so Dawn will help with that. She will help with the creation of a new, free world.

A little background on Dawn herself.

I designed her to look like devil fruits because, well, she’s the devil.

Or so people have called her.

She’s really the daughter of the sea, and as her first creation, she attempted to give people some power in the form of a fruit.

It wasn’t much, it would give them some form of special ability and that was that. But she messed up, and now the people that eat will drown.

So, in a game of scuffed telephone, the truth was distorted from a young deity wanting to help to the snake creating an apple.

She was guilty for this, so she gave herself to helping them in their own ideals. She would choose the next king and become sort of an assistant. Over time, she discovered that this was of her own free will, she WANTED to help these kings.

Well, she didn’t really choose them, per se. They would, in a way, choose her. Destiny kind of.

They would be deemed worthy, by some unknown power, and eventually find their way to her. Dawn would know who was and wasn’t the new king, and she would use her power to steer them away from her. Subliminally of course, like a storm that was too harsh, or a feeling that they just didn’t want to go that way anymore.

She would have a new piece of clothing that would give her a hint as to who the next would be. In Roger’s case, it was a captain’s coat. In Luffy’s case, she got an orange cardigan.

She can change her appearance to stay hidden from other people, which is an explanation as to why Roger’s crew didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

But to Luffy’s crew, she is who she is.

Anyway, that’s my Dawn Piece au!!!! I hope you like it!!! I might make some cute comics about their escapades in the future :3

[somefanficrecomendations]

Author Spotlight: CatSteppingOnAKeyboard!

Introducing. . . author spotlight! This post will be a roundup of my personal favorites written by this author, instead of a traditional roundup with fics by multiple authors.

Ambrosia and snake oil are sold by the same vendor The Penumbra Podcast, (multi), 180k, Humor, Action & Adventure “Twirl for me, Juno.” “I’ll do it if you close your eyes.” Nureyev takes his hand and makes Juno twirl. The rainbow skirts of a summer dress flare, a yellow cardigan snapping about him, his gold sandals flashing. The effect is of a rainbow octopus flashing its warning colors on the end of Nureyev’s arm. Nureyev catches Juno by the waist “You look splendid.” “I look like I run a mommy-blog.” “I think that’s the point, Juno.” Juno Steel is a lot of things. A happy home-maker ain't one of them, but hey, how hard can it be to play nice for a bit, especially if it means uncovering a source of the cure-mother? Except it's not that simple because nothing ever is in Juno's life. Suddenly he and his family are poised on the verge of an intergalactic conspiracy that pits Juno against old friends and enemies, while the fate of a dying species hangs in the balance. Also some furby nightmare fell out of the vents and Vespa won't let them put it back to the woods.

Ambrosia and snake oil was the best Penumbra fic I had ever read until I read The ballad of Jet Sikuliaq. The combination of action and humor, found family shenanigans, and wacky BAMF's is exactly what got me into The Penumbra Podcast, and it drew me into this fic all the same.

The ballad of Jet Sikuliaq  The Penumbra Podcast, (gen), 120k, Pre-Canon, Heists Before a certain lady detective ever met a certain nameless thief, before a certain mayor ever set a robot plague upon a certain Martian city, there were others being gay and doing crimes in space. Jet; a torn between the cool uncle he is on the inside and the ruthless, blood-thirsty, property-damaging intergalactic criminal with a wicked drug dependency he is on the outside. Buddy; the victim of his most recent bout of impulsive destruction. To compensate for what Jet has done to Buddy's reputation, Buddy recruits Jet for a singularly difficult task: either he kills her father, a notorious prison baron and jackass, or Buddy kills Jet and displays his remains over the counter of her bar next to the mechanical trout that sings 'Sweet Caroline'. Nothing goes as planned, least of all the beautiful friendship that blooms out of this unlikely allegiance.

I have a secret love for pre-canon fics and The Ballad doesn't disappoint. The ballad of Jet Sikuliaq is a quintessential heist fic with reluctant teammates, bizarre humor, and that ooey gooey found family goodness. This fic explores a brilliant depth of emotion with discussions of addiction, grief, and mental illness that are a halfway substitute for real therapy.

There are no wolves left in Ireland  Derry Girls x IT, (gen), 70k, The Power of Friendship, Biblical Horror Orla raises her hand higher. “I’ve been possessed.” Erin rolls her eyes. “No, she hasn’t, Sister Michael. Orla was iron deficient last year- she got a swimmy feeling in her head every time she stood up and she thought that was demons.” “It was demons.” says Orla, evenly. “Oh, and iron tablets made the demons go away, did they?” Her cousin shrugs and thumbs the side of her nose. “Well, I felt better after I took ‘em, didn’t I?” Another Derry, another time, same old Pennywise. Armed with friendship, faith, an encyclopedic knowledge of Catholic heresy and a pitchfork one of them got out of the garden shed, the Derry girls do battle with a clown who really should have known better than to try this shit in Northern Ireland.

This was the fic that got me into the source material. I actually read the first chapter of this fic and then put it down to watch the first episode of Derry Girls. Hilarious, horrifying, and heartwarming, this fic has it all! A definite must read, you only need the bare minimum of familiarity with Derry Girls and even less knowledge of IT to enjoy this fic.

[do-you-have-a-flag]

Hey, long shot, but does anyone in the goncharov fandom happen to have this one fanedit that i saw on a niche fandoms page on LJ years and years ago? 

I cannot find it on youtube anymore but i hope maybe someone reposted it or saved it or something because it was really good. It’s a multi-ship edit set to lovefool by the cardigans and even with the cheesy windows movie maker transition effects i remember it being a real banger 

 honestly i’m just nostalgic for the days of crack shipping katya and icepick joe’s secret twin brother the fandom of like 20 people on livejournal made up back in the day, i miss the glittery icons people edited.

[sweaterproducer]

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[moochilatv]

Chazz Oliver and Janay Saxon presents: Do It Up

Super rapid flow 💵 ⌚

Chazz Oliver brings the fire with Do It Up feat. Myumi, Janay Saxon, and JU$T AM.

If you like Saweetie, Kahlani, Chloe Bailey, Wiz Kalifa, and Kendrick lamar, you will love Do It Up.

Hip Hop/Rap/R&B ready to give you that club vibe but also rock it in your car!!!!

Produced by Chazz Oliver, this track feat future fire artist.

Listen Do It Up 💵 ⌚ in Spotify:

BIO:

Washington DC native Garrett Chazz Oliver, a producer better known as Chazz Oliver or just Chazz O, began his musical foray at age six when his father purchased his first drum set. He later taught himself to play the piano, bass guitar, lead guitar and Sax. In his teens, Chazz was already composing music, experimenting with multi-track machines and other types of recording equipment. Before he graduated from high school in 1984, he found himself briefly working with R&B producer Kashif (Whitney Houston, Melba Moore, Evelyn “Champagne” King, Stacy Lattisaw and Johnny Kemp,). 

As fortuitous as that opportunity was, in 1995 he came into contact with another Super Producer, Nile Rodgers (Chic, Sister Sledge, David Bowie, Madonna and B-52’s). Although it took a couple more encounters over the next year, Nile finally invited Chazz Oliver to Westport, CT, to work more closely with him on the 1996 Nile Rodgers album,”Chic Freak and More Treats.” From then onward, Chazz became an integral part of Nile's work as shown by his co-producing credits for several artists across the board, including All4One, Paula Abdul, Q-Tip, and Samantha Cole, just to name a few.

Despite being Nile Rodgers’ sideman, his efforts did not go unnoticed. As a result of his exceptional success as a producer and his great ear for talent, Chazz moved from behind the keyboard to behind the desk. That would be the executive desk. In 1999 Chazz was appointed VP of Music Programming for AEI Music networks, in Seattle, WA. While at AEI, Chazz was able to help break new songs like Morcheeba's "Part Of The Process" and Lenny Kravitz's "Fly Away," which both debuted in the Gap; Sarah Brightman's "Eden," which played in Banana Republic; the Cardigans' "Erase/ Rewind," also in Banana Republic; and Sixpence None The Richer's "Kiss Me," which played in Limited Too and Bath & Body Works. 

After spending many years as a Music Executive, Chazz Oliver decided to combine the executive and creative side of things. In 2007, he established his own Music Production Company, ISMRecordings, based out of Norwalk CT, and began unveiling his own stable of artists (Mr. LA Wryte, Mateya and Taj Dyami). As a way to give back to his music community, Chazz as lent his talents to produce music for regional artists such as Omar Wilson, Rain E. Day and Zen. Chazz Oliver has been featured in Magazine such as Billboard Magazine, BRE Magazine, Starpoynt Magazine and Latin Star Magazine, just to name a few. 

Super Producer, Hit Maker, these are some of the things that come to mind when you hear production from Chazz Oliver. From movie scores to radio ready hits, Chazz is ready for any and every musical endeavor. In 2022 Chazz decided to drop some new music for the clubs. The track titled “Love” features signer Taj Dyami and is already streaming like crazy. To keep the momentum going, Chazz also dropped the track tilted “Set Me Free” in December of 2022. 

Few producers are capable of having a balance between artist and craft. Chazz is one of those producers. He always infuses a remarkable sense of individuality and creativity into his productions. Most recently Chazz just finished a project with the talented Amanda Marie, from the UK, for the song “Feelin’ Fine”. He is also about to drop the single “Forever” with R&B singer Taj Dyami. 

Chazz has stayed in high demand and worked on projects with artists like Rappers Ju$t AM, Zen, Lou Big’z, pop artist Jackie Legere, Nigerian artist Lamboginny and R&B singer Lamone, When you hear a Chazz Oliver production generally there is no mistaking it for anyone else's work. Chazz Oliver and ISMRecordings are poised to bring you............. “The Sound Of Things To Come”! 

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[walli3darl1ng]

I’m currently obsessed and thought of this :3 enjoy! Should I make a part 2?

You are a well-known, local doll maker and oftentimes you get calls from toy companies to make prototypes of the most popular character kids were obsessed about. That’s just how unique and comforting your talent is. You also get calls from previous clients for repairs on your dolls.

So it wasn’t a surprise that you got a call for a repair. What was surprising is getting a call from a kid’s show director asking you to come fix one of the puppets they have.

You never worked on puppets, but it’s an opportunity to get out of your artistic comfort zone so why not?

The building was intimidating. How many floors do you need to film a kid’s show? But then again, you’re not really sure how much effort it takes.

Inside is just as cruel. So many hallways and doors! But after admitting to a passing worker, who saw you wandering around frantically that you were indeed lost, they were happy to show you to the main studio set for Welcome Home.

it’s an amazing set! Everything that looks big is small. Grass so green it looks fake—cause it is. Colors of any bright hue were present and shine almost dangerously bright for any human capacity.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the director?” You ask softly, afraid to interrupt whatever they were doing. It did seem like they were in the middle of something, they had other puppets with them.

After meeting the director, who knew really well of your work. You don’t let the fact that a multi-billion dollar company has requested your assistance. You do this for the kids not for fame or money, but let’s be realistic, you need money to start any business, big or small.

Now in a meeting room—more like a regular storage room. The director was informing you of the show as well as the puppets they used to make it.

“The main one is what we want you to fix, just clean it up and make it look presentable again.” The director orders without looking at you then leaves. How rude.

‘It’. You know objects can’t feel but this is a puppet that kids believe they have. So why not just address them as living? They are created with a name, personality, likes, dislikes. You can have debates over this for ages but it’ll never go anywhere.

Are you supposed to just sit here? It felt like forever when the director walked back in with someone else carrying a wooden box. The box is old, small and looks like it could fall apart.

“Sorry, I had to get it packed and ready.” Again with the ‘it’. How hard is it to call them by their name?

You look at the box suspiciously then raise an eyebrow. “They’re in the box?”

The director miserly shrugs and takes the box from the other worker before sliding it over to you, dismissing the worker. “The only box we could find to fit it.”

You hum with curiosity, thinking it was a small puppet you had high hopes this repair would be simple and easy. How wrong you were.

Upon opening the box, keeping clear of the splitters and chipping wood you gasp softly under your breath at the sight.

There was the puppet, dark yellow and blue, crammed into the box, tangled in string? You carefully jammed them out and looked in horror at their condition. Their clothes unravel and tear, shoes more worn down than an energetic toddler and the string is from their dirty cardigan basically coming apart. It saddens you to the core. How can people be so neglectful?

“We have a special next week so you have until then to fix this. Good luck!”

“Wait, hold on—and he left. Unbelievable.” You scoff. Turning back to the poor puppet you look inside the wooden box to see a name faintly on the top. “Wally?”

You gently sit Wally up and hold his felt hand in yours. “Well, nice to meet you, Wally. I hope we can be friends in this journey of making you look like how you deserve.”

You get no response back but you didn’t expect one. Giving Wally a smile you take his arms and wrap them around your neck as you pull him closer to you body and hold him up. You take the wooden box and throw it in the trash. You’ll make a new one.

You felt the loose grip of Wally’s arms tighten.

But that could be your imagination,

Right?

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