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aklaustaleteller · 4 months

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@ghayda0 requested via submission: Hi, please ignore if you’re not taking requests. Klaus is out all day. Literally from morning to midnight and when he comes back, Y/N is very pissed at him and giving him the silent treatment. At first Klaus’s amused by her actions, thinking Y/N is just being bratty but when she starts tearing up, maybe mid argument, he sees that’s she’s genuinely hurt. Maybe it was their anniversary or her birthday and he forgot. Can be smutty if you want to be, I mean he has to make it up somehow ;)

Entirety of Eternity

Waiting and waiting for Klaus to return home, Y/n's grasp on reality soon slipped and she fell into a sad, sad slumber. But then Klaus finally comes back, and he doesn't know what he's done wrong -- and Y/n won't tell him. Until she does, shouting at him how the night clearly wasn't anything special to him. And now, all Klaus wants is to show her just how much she, and their relationship, truly mean to him.

Warnings - Smut and some mentions of blood. Word Count - 3.3k

Not super proud of the way I wrote this one, but I'm pretty certain that it isn't that bad (please tell me it isn't) And thank you for requesting this -- I hope you enjoy reading it!

Y/n was sat on one end of the dining table, her face resting in her quite sweaty palms as she waited for her ears to finally perk up at the sound of the front door to the mansion opening. But it was beginning to cross the two-hour mark and still, there was no sound.

Every once in a while, the sound of her earrings' tiny bells would chime in her ears as she'd change her position to get more comfortable. At least as comfortable as she could on a wooden chair.

A deep wine-red dress adorned her body, pooling on the ground around her feet as she sat. Delicate jewellery hung from her ears, her wrists and a dainty necklace rested just below her collarbone. Sighing defeatedly, she let her head lay atop her arms on the dining table, looking at the polished plates in front of her and then at the empty seat across from her.

Tonight was nothing special, at least not to Klaus considering the fact that he had yet to return home. But it was to her. After all, this was the day that he had turned into a hybrid himself, and then turned her into one as well – justifying it with the purpose that he just wanted to spend the rest of eternity with her.

This was just the fifth year, and already he was forgetting their anniversary.

Maybe this wasn't so special after all. But when you've got the entirety of eternity on your hands, surely you'd try and celebrate as many occasions as possible to keep things special and ...to keep their value.

The clock rang throughout the empty house, finally hitting one in the morning and he still wasn't standing across from her. And she was getting too close to doubting if he even will tonight.

And even if it wasn't so special to him, shouldn't he have listened to her when she'd so excitedly told him to return home early tonight as she'd have something special waiting for him? Wouldn't matter anymore because all the food that she'd cooked herself had gone cold, and the candles she'd set up had burned down to the wick.

The dust had begun to settle on the exposed crockery, the moon had hidden itself behind the clouds and her heart had begun wilting away inside her chest.

She didn't quite realise when her hold on reality slipped and she fell into a sad slumber, but she woke up to the feel of a hand on her arm and a soft voice coaxing her back to life.

"There you are, my darling," Klaus smiled, already kneeling beside her so he was face to face with her. "Why didn't you go to bed?"

Y/n looked at him with eyes that were screaming how could he have the guts, the audacity to ask her that and so callously pretend that he hadn't just come home past midnight despite her sweet request that went against his act.

But when her shouts fell on deaf ears, she simply turned the other way from where Klaus was sitting and stood up. "The dinner's gone cold... I'd suggest you warm it up before eating, it'd taste better," she told him as she walked up the stairs, her gaze empty but her blood heating up rapidly.

Klaus looked at her as she walked away, amusement filling him up to the brim at her antics. Yes, she'd asked him to return early but it was for no special occasion, and he'd gotten himself in a rather sticky situation, so why was she upset out of the blue?

He was even sure that she his reasoning in someone's red blood covering him from head to toe, beginning to dry up. And he wished that she'd clean him up like every other time, so he decided to eat first. Give her some time to change her clothes and get comfortable for the night before he could go over to her and ask her innocently to help him clean himself off.

So he sat and ate, his eyes closing every once in a while at the feeling of the home cooked meal filling him up with all the love he could digest.

Rinsing off his dishes, Klaus sped up the stairs and into the bedroom he shared with Y/n as her lover, a frown settling itself between his brows when he caught her sitting in front of the vanity, lost in some thought as she glared at a broken lipstick.

"What's wrong, my love?" Klaus asked her, concern lacing his voice as he walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders as he locked his eyes with hers in the mirror.

His frown only deepened further when she didn't reply and began removing her jewellery, looking at him with big eyes trembling with fury. He didn't move, not until she was getting up and moving towards the bed, which had him following her hot on her heels.

"C'mon, it's not the right time to be a brat, sweetheart," Klaus joked, chuckling to himself but stopped when she shot him a look sharp enough to make him flinch.

"Just tell me what's happened!" Klaus insisted, kneeling in front of her and holding her hand, ignoring the fact that she didn't weave her fingers through his' and pick his hand up to press a kiss on his knuckles like she usually did.

"Where were you?" She asked, forcing her voice to be at a bay.

"Well, some newbies truly thought that they could have my head on a sword for them to take home to their master,” he chuckled. “And their plan was quite impressive, dare I say,” shrugging he said, passing her a grin which, expectedly, wasn’t reciprocated.

“I apologise for not coming home earlier,” he sighed. But he knew that she knew that he truly wasn’t, for he didn’t even yet realise the density of this grave mistake he had made. And when she continued with her silence, Klaus finally cracked.

“It’d not as if tonight’s anything special!”

And right then, Y/n heard something crack inside her. Possibly her dead heart.

“I know you wanted me to return early tonight and I’m sorry that I didn’t, I truly am!” He almost whined, trying to show her how unreasonable she was being as he started pacing the room. “But this has happened before and you’ve never been this upset, so just tell me what have I done wrong!”

He felt quite embarrassed once he was done shouting due to her lack of response, and sighed once more before walking towards her.

“It was our anniversary,” she started, quickly glancing at the clock, “yesterday.”

Klaus stopped in midst of his way to her, his heart dropping in his stomach as he finally found himself at a loss of words. His mouth moved, but nothing came out except for some incoherent stutters.

“Forget it. It was nothing special,” she gritted through her teeth, not wanting her anger to get the best of her but she could feel it slipping out of her grasp.

“Darling – I,” Klaus stuttered, looking at the floor, wishing it’d remind him how to speak. “I’m so sorry darling,” Klaus breathed, his gaze turning doe-eyed as the realisation set in.

“No you’re not!” Y/n shouted, getting off the bed to walk towards him. “You are not sorry, Klaus. You clearly don’t care!”

Hot tears were lined up against her lower lashline, making it hard for her to see clearly.

“You were showing that last night meant nothing to you for so long and you even said it! It was no special occasion!” She yelled, her voice shaking as her brain debated whether she was trying to convince herself about that, or him.

And the way she was talking about their anniversary in a way that it truly had passed and that it was the next day, was only breaking his heart worse.

“Darling our anniversary means the world to me,” he desperately said. “I’d just carelessly forgotten about it but please don’t think that it doesn’t mean anything to me,” he whispered, his eyes aching to meet with hers but she just wouldn’t let it happen, looking to the side.

But the moment those words left his mouth, a bitter chuckle escaped her mouth as she finally looked him in the eyes.

“Can you hear yourself Klaus?” She asked him, shaking her head. “If it did mean anything to you, you wouldn’t have forgotten about it!” She told him, fisting her hand to prevent herself from ripping her hair out of her scalp.

“Please let me make it up to you, darling,” Klaus begged, his own tears threatening to spill. “I’d been a bastard to do such a thing but please let me show you how much you mean to me,” his voice went meek as he lowered his head to meet her eyes. “How much this,” Klaus whispered, motioning his hand to point at her and then at himself, “means to me,” he finished, cautiously cupping her face in his rough hands.

And he breathed in relief when she leaned into his touch, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I cooked us a meal, lit up candles and I only wore this dress so you could take it off,” she admitted, a tinge of pink rising on her cheeks, betraying her sadness. “And you just had to go and mess everything up,” she sighed, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him, clinging to his torso while resting her face in the cervix of his neck, ignoring the dried blood that covered his clothes and exposed skin.

“And I’m so sorry darling,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I swear I’ll never do something like this again,” he smiled, swaying them side to side.

Y/n detached herself from him then, her hair a bit ruffled due to his touch. “Please don’t,” she chuckled, pressing a quick kiss on his lips before weaving their fingers together and walking towards the bathroom.

“You better not show up some day covered in your own blood,” Y/n warned him as she sat him on the bathroom counter and wetted a towel.

She began wiping the blood off of him with ease, having done this a million and more times by now. And she’d just wiped down his neck when she realised that he had way more blood on him that she’d expected, and some in his hair as well.

“Why don’t you just take a shower? You genuinely have blood everywhere, hell it’s even in your hair,” she laughed and didn’t wait for his answer as she went on to turn on the shower and nodded her head at him, urging him to get in already.

“You’re not joining me, are you?” Klaus asked, teasingly and nervously.

“You wish, don’t you?” She grinned before walking out, her ears picking up on him mumbling how she very well knew that he did.

And Y/n had just been sitting on the bed, waiting for him when he finally walked out of the shower, in a towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. And his drenched curls stuck to his forehead while water shone off of his chiselled chest, a teasing smirk on his mouth as he looked at her while she took him in.

He began walking towards her, a certain glint in his eyes as he watched her shut off the book in her lap and place it on her bedside table. Once he stood beside her, he took her hands in his and began moving so that she’d stand up and walk with him.

Leaning in, he hovered his mouth over hers before tilting his head slightly so that he was whispering in her ear.

“You said you’d only worn this dress so I could take it off… yes?” He asked her, beginning to sway the two of them across the room, listening in to hear her heartbeat picking up while her heavy breath fanned his neck.

Y/n hummed in response, her eyes fluttering close when he began pressing feather light kisses up her neck. She looked at him with intrigue when he stood the both of them in front of the mirror, looking at her with the slightest smirk from behind.

“Gonna still let me take you up on that offer, darling?” he asked, his fingers dancing across her shoulders until she nodded her head, and whispered a small yes.

“Gonna let me show you how much truly special you are to me?” He asked again, clearly teasing her as he fingers travelled to her back. He pressed his mouth against her jaw when she nodded again, eyes still on her in the mirror as he began nipping at her skin, leaving behind the very first hickey.

He undid the chain of the dress, letting it slump off of her torso and expose her naked breasts to him. No bra, he grinned, licking the bruising skin on her jaw as a blush creeped up on the highs of her cheeks.

From behind, his hands slithered across her skin, from her back to now her breasts, flicking the hardened nipples as he littered love bites all over her neck.

He made sure that while he touched her, his eyes remained locked with hers. She knew after so many years with him that he preferred eye contact during such intimate moments, that he preferred to see how much effect he had on her – how he had her at his mercy just by touch.

“Klaus,” she breathed with pleading eyes and let her head fall against his chest as he began to force the rest of her dress to slip off of her figure.

“Darling,” Klaus smiled, turning her around once she’d stepped out of the dress that was merely a pool on the floor now. He picked her up, bridal style and walked over to their bed, laying her on it gently unlike other times when he’d roughly toss her on it. After all, he had some apologising to do tonight.

Moving to hover above her, Klaus resumed his kisses and marks, slipping lower and lower on her body until her fingers were clutching his curls while he bit lightly on the lowest point of her stomach.

“Stop all this teasing now, Klaus,” Y/n asked of him, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him with a rather scolding look as he looked back at her with mischievousness swimming in his eyes.

“Only because I’m truly sorry,” Klaus grinned at her, teasing her for the final time before he pressed his mouth against her aching core, licking up her hole to her clit, spreading her arousal before he could actually begin.

Y/n’s breathing hitched and a moan escaped her mouth when she felt him increase his pace a bit. His fingers dug into the skin on her hips as he kept his hold tight on her, forcing himself as close to her pussy as he could, his nose breathing in her scent and tongue lapping up her wetness.

“Oh Klaus,” she whined when he shifted all his attention on her clit, sucking on it until he began feeling a tremor coursing through her thighs.

He went back to licking up her arousal then, wanting to prolong her orgasm to give her a good one instead. And his own grunts began to vibrate against her core when he began to rub against the bed, causing her arousal begin dripping down his chin.

“You taste fucking amazing, darling,” he told her as he pushed a finger inside her with ease, quickly adding another one at the realisation of just how open and ready he’d got her dawned on him.

Y/n mewled above him, her moans turning into louder groans as he pushed himself against her core again, flicking her clit with his tongue while pumping his fingers inside her at a fast pace. Her eyes fell shut as the knot in her belly began to move lower and lower, a pleasing and burning sensation coursing through her body, causing her to begin shaking.

Her thighs instinctively closed shut around Klaus’ head, her hands pushing against his head to get away from him, making him increase his pace even more.

“Klaus, please!” She cried out to him, begging for release while her back arched off the bed, her eyes flying open when Klaus detached his mouth from her, keeping his fingers at work regardless.

“Look at me,” he breathed, her arousal smeared across his mouth, along with a couple strings connecting his mouth and her core.

And he went right back to messing with her now puffy clit once he had her eyes on him. Noises of his tongue licking her up and down began to fill the room along with the ones coming from him fingering her, and her hips stuttered to move just once more before she was crying out, trying with all her might to get away from his mouth as she grew more and more sensitive as he made her ride out her orgasm.

Klaus finally stopped after a couple more kitten licks then, crawling back up to her to kiss her. And he had just cupped her jaw when she flipped them over, now straddling his naked hips as the towel remained lying near the foot of the bed.

And she began lining his hardened cock against her pussy, slowly sinking down on him until he was fully inside her. She placed her hands on top of his which were situated on her waist and then she began moving up and down, increasing her pace with each jump.

“Only because I’m forgiving you,” she lazily grinned at him, making him chuckle hoarsely.

Klaus’ hands slowly slithered up her torso then, and cupped her breasts as their bouncing in his face was going to make him reach his high embarrassingly fast.

And when he noticed her pace slowing down, he placed his hold back on her waist to hold her in place while he thrusted up into her, fucking her well enough for her to lean forward and hover over him with her eyes clenched shut.

“Fucking hell,” Klaus gritted as her breasts were now back in his face, bouncing so prettily that he couldn’t help but take one of her nipples in his mouth to tease her into another orgasm now.

“Oh I’m gonna cum again,” she moaned close to his ears, and it was enough to make him slip his hand between their connected bodies and rub her clit, all while he felt himself growing closer and closer to tipping over the edge himself.

“Give it to me darling – give it to your husband,” Klaus groaned as he felt her walls clench around him, her orgasm slipping past her entrance and onto the base of his cock, making him spill inside her with a loud moan.

Making a few more deep and hard thrusts, Klaus finally stopped, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy as Y/n laid on top of him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“I fear you’ll need another shower, Klaus,” Y/n giggled, laughing harder when he sped both of them into the bathroom, and turned on the shower, kissing her with a wide grin on his own mouth.

“Please buy more dresses just for me to take them off, my love,” Klaus told her, his teasing grin turning into dropped jaw when her arse brushed against him, eliciting an even deeper moan from him when she pressed herself further into him and began peppering kisses across his chest, nipping at the skin every once in a while just to hear him hiss.

“For the entirety of eternity, yes?” She grinned, yelling in surprise when he pushed her against the wall and pressed his mouth on hers, mumbling a hoarse ‘yes’ as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

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lizzisimss · 11 months

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Purple Apartment - Follower Request CC List

CC used (list below) 920 Medina Studios in San Myshuno 2 bed, 1 bath $108,109

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sassykai10 · 3 months

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A strange turn of events

Words: 2250 Warning: none Summary: Bruce knew something was wrong. Ever since he had woken up that morning, the laughter of that maniacal Joker was still echoing in his head. He fought with his inner demon, but sunk by a bigger power. Now a new symbol is in Gotham. Not a hero, but a monster who laughs.

Bruce knew something was wrong.

Ever since he had woken up that morning, the laughter of that maniacal Joker was still echoing in his head. He also felt distinctly more tired physically and mentally.

The billionaire tossed and turned in bed, rubbing his eyes, which felt heavier than usual. He knew it was late in the morning and it was unusual for him to wake up at that hour, but at that moment he didn't care about anything.

He felt like a wreck and just wanted to stay in bed for the day.

He shifted again, on his side this time, to look at the window which, closed with dark curtains, still let in the light of what must have been a beautiful sunny day, which he knew he would spend for the umpteenth time locked in the dark cave beneath his mansion.

A shiver, however, ran down his back, reaching his hairline, stopping him.

At that moment he felt it. It was turning in his chest and desperately trying to get out.

He immediately sat up. His wide eyes looked ahead without focusing on anything in particular. His mind travelled fast in search of an explanation.

One hand moved quickly to his chest as if to make sure he was not about to have a stroke, the other closed tightly over his mouth, to block out what was about to come out.

He felt in horror the corners of his mouth turn upwards against his own will. He felt the sweat slide copiously down his neck and his body temperature rise rapidly.

And then it came out first as a choked sob, then clearer.

The Joker's laugh.

-----------------

Alfred, as a good butler and substitute father, had realised from the late hour that his little master was unwell.

As was his wont, he put a teapot on the stove and while he waited for the Wayne family members he set the table with various protein foods, perfect for recovering from the previous night.

Just enough time to arrange the toast on the plates that the teapot began to whistle. Alfred approached, slipping on his potholders ready to move the boiling object away from the fire.

But something made his skin crawl. Not something, but someone, or rather, a voice. A laugh.

Alfred thought he had heard wrong. Perhaps it was the overly sharp whistling of the teapot or perhaps it was his ears that were no longer young.

Slowly, but straining his ear, he moved the boiling crockery to the cold marble shelf.

He took off his potholders and placed them, too, on the counter.

"Mr Wayne?" He called out. The voice was slightly hesitant.

Silence.

"Master Bruce? Master Richard?" He tried to call out, thinking it might be a joke by some of the younger members of the family.

Silence, however, pervaded his ears again. The situation was becoming strangely stressful and unsettling.

Alfred took a step towards the door leading to the kitchen, which gave directly onto one of the villa's dining rooms.

Sunlight streamed through the windows slowly discolouring the old wooden furniture. Dust floated lightly in the air, clearly visible in the light.

The butler leaned in a little more, on guard for any eventuality. The fear hidden in his mind was slowly coming to the surface.

"Alfred?" Bruce Wayne's voice called from behind him, jolting him out of his fright.

"Master Bruce? What are you doing here? How come you didn't answer when I called you?" Alfred asked, placing a hand over his heart as if trying to slow him down.

The elder of the family looked him over, searching for an answer to that strange feeling he still felt in his chest. In front of him Bruce stood with what seemed to be a calm air, his big shoulders however not so relaxed.

'He's probably still thinking about last night's mission,' Alfred questioned himself.

'I beg your pardon, I thought you heard me coming. I didn't answer because I'm still a bit tired,' the man apologised.

"Certainly no problem Mister- he adjusted his shirt- please take a seat. Breakfast is ready" Alfred pointed to the chair at the head of the table.

Bruce stood still for a few seconds and then, as if pulled by some strange entity, shuffled his feet forward to the chair. All under the watchful gaze of Alfred, who followed his every move.

The air was growing tense, but the butler did not understand why. Was it still the strange feeling from before that was gripping him?

Before long, however, he was no longer alone. The room filled with voices and youthful energy. Bruce's adopted and non-adopted sons and daughters sat at the table starting to gorge themselves on food, hungry and ready for a new day.

Alfred, who had eaten before, was mainly busy clearing or filling empty plates, quietly listening to the voices of the family members in the room.

"You could have at least followed orders, Todd- complained the youngest, Damian- your stubbornness has led us to lose sight of the Joker again."

"Hey!- forcefully Jason, the second-born male, slammed his hands on the table, making it shake and risking knocking over some glasses- this was definitely not my fault! Be more careful, because if you haven't noticed I was doing my part better than all of you!"

"Tsk," snorted Damian.

"Guys please..." Dick, the eldest son, intervened as usual to calm things down, but unfortunately neither of them was willing to stop. Any excuse was good to quarrel, especially with their brothers.

'If at least you weren't so boring and repetitive, you would be more fun. Even the Joker is capable of being funnier at times like these..." Puffed Stephanie, the second 'acquired' daughter but not 100 per cent part of the Wayne family, boredly.

"hihihi...-"

Silence fell quickly in the room.

The gazes all shifted to the source of the noise. At the head of the table sat Bruce as his usual self, but in between no one had noticed that his behaviour was different than usual that morning. Everyone except Alfred, with whom he had had a quick confrontation earlier.

The man's head was slightly bent forward, as was his body. The face was therefore obscured and could not be seen clearly.

"Bruce?-he called to him in a firm but attentive voice Dick-are you all right?"

The appointed emitted a quick cough and brought his hand to his mouth, later raising it to those present in apology.

"Everything's fine- he replied in a hoarse voice, which did not escape the attentive ears of those present- I just found Stephanie's joke funny" his lowered head showed no sign of his face, still darkened.

Silence fell again.

Those present now looked at each other attentively. They were looking for information to give themselves a logical explanation.

It was true that Bruce had become an increasingly less talkative person over time, but did he suddenly find a joke (not even that funny) funny? So much so that he had to laugh?

If it was just the fact that it was unusual for him, the youngsters would have teased him jokingly, but that was not the reason.

The truth was that the laughter emitted by their father made everyone's skin crawl, as it was all too similar to the laughter of the Clown Prince of Crime.

"Bruce - Jason's firm, but impatient voice was heard - raise your head."

But no one, least of all the head of the family, moved.

"Bruce!" Jason stood up after increasing his own tone to call him back, but like the first time no one else moved.

The second son then quickly moved the chair and with large steps approached his father.

"Jason- Bruce called him in a calm but stern voice- sit down."

But well known for his stubbornness, especially towards Batman and therefore Bruce, Jason continued with great strides to walk along the side of the table.

As soon as he was beside him he called back to him.

"Bruce, get your fucking head up."

He knew that wasn't the way to put it, but he of all people was justified in being the most stressed in that situation, especially after what had happened to him when he was younger.

"Jason...-The billionaire's voice came out as a choked hiss- go sit down"

"No fucking way! Now get your fucking head up and tell everyone what's wrong with you. We're not idiots. Tell us what's going on-"

"JASON!- raised his voice Batman, slamming a hand down on the table so hard that it knocked over the glasses- I told you to go sit down!"

Taken aback, Jason's eyes widened in disbelief. He quickly shifted his gaze to his brothers, who like himself were quite confused.

"Master Bruce- Alfred appeared behind Jason's back, ready to mediate in what was about to result in yet another argument- you seem more stressed and tired than usual. Why-"

But for the second time someone present was interrupted by a hand on the table, which made everyone jump back in their chairs.

"More stressed?" Bruce's voice wasn't getting any better. His usually so low voice had risen a few decibels, more snickering it seemed. "I've never been so well..." he resumed.

Dick immediately noticed his father's shoulders moving in rhythm. They were shaking as if he were cold. He saw Bruce's body bend forward as if to close in on itself so as not to let anything out.

Alfred took a step forward, resting a hand on his host's shoulders. The latter, however, shifted it badly and with who knows what speed rose to his feet.

It was at that moment that everyone saw her.

Creepy and psychotic, the typical Joker expression was stuck on the billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne.

A smile that took up the whole face was badly pulled upwards. The eyes had green pupils and as much as it didn't look like it, in everyone's eyes Bruce was trying to fight this sudden and dangerous moment.

"Bruce- called him agitatedly Dick- how come you're like this? What happened?"

"Joker...hihihi...before he escaped- the attempt to speak was difficult between giggles- he released a gas...hahAHAH!"

Bruce quickly took a few steps back, aware of what was happening to him, trying to get as far away as possible so as not to hurt those he loved.

His hands futilely tried to cover his mouth to keep the laughter from coming out, but to no avail.

Some of his children tried to approach to help him.

"NO! ahahah... Get back!" He warned them, trying to catch his breath. But as stubborn as he was, they did not listen to him, concerned about the situation.

"Bruce, is there an antidote? Something we can-" Tim, the third male son-in-law and the brains of the family, was thrown backwards several metres.

"Hihihi...- the raspy voice, increasingly resembling that of the original owner, was heard again- there's nothing you can do...hahaHAH!" He chanted uneasily.

Panic spread in the family.

-----------------

Years later, Alfred prepared breakfast in the usual way: starting by putting a teapot on the stove.

The lost look indicated a person who had not slept well for days, perhaps months or years.

For him, the answer was simple: the recurring nightmare of that morning now five years earlier.

The teapot whistled and Alfred, absorbed in his thoughts, did not realise how quickly time had passed.

He picked up the boiling object, put an old, used teabag in it and waited for the now non-existent taste to mix with the semi-pure water from his hiding place.

His mind travelled again. There was not a day that passed without him wondering how he had ended up in that situation. Why it had happened to his family.

Five years earlier Batman was fighting one of the usual battles against the Joker, his nemesis par excellence. Little did he know, however, that this time the villain had a very dangerous ace up his sleeve: a highly contagious toxin rich in his own DNA.

The moment Batman leapt at him to capture him, the Joker sprayed him with the toxin and once he had stunned the bat, he fled on the run, not caring too much about what he had just created.

Back at the cave Bruce stripped off his costume and went straight to bed, followed closely by his children.

The next morning, however, during breakfast the toxin took effect and before long the situation worsened.

Alfred witnessed the whole scene. One of those no one would want to participate in.

Bruce, by now brain numbed by the toxin, lashed out at his own family, and after grabbing a knife began to use it as a weapon, injuring and unfortunately killing them.

Alfred somehow or other, aided by Dick and Jason managed to escape before anything happened to him and holed up in what was to be his refuge for the next five years.

______________________________________

Now the situation had changed.

Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Red Robin and the others no longer existed. There were no heroic symbols in Gotham.

The already rotten city had sunk into chaos and was now ruled by a single monster and his followers:

The Batman who laughs and his Robins

#damian wayne #dick grayson #batman #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #tim drake #batfam #the batman who laughs

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lorei-writes · 5 months

Text

I, Your Rag Doll

Chevalier x OC (OC Chart: Esther) Action ~2.4k

A second part of the two-shot. Although they can be read in any order, I'd suggest to first go through My Dear Rag Doll, for the best experience >:)

Content Warnings: blood, violence

Chilly gusts strolled through the palace gardens, charmed by the falling night. Exhausted after hours of mischief in the fields and playing tag in towns, they nuzzled into the softness of the newly emerged leaves, ruffled the rose bushes to then rest among their roots. Just as worn down, Esther exhaled slowly, gravel crunching under the soles of her shoes as she approached the gazebo. The bench sighed quietly under her weight.

The kettle whistled, zealous and dressed to impress, red enamel shining as if polished. A tartan kitchen cloth shielding her hand, Esther grabbed the metal handle and poured the water into a teapot, fragrant leaves unfurling to further welcome the scalding heat. She let them rest under the cover and turned her attention towards the granite counter, a selection of pastries awaiting being sampled.

“You’re bringing them a snack again, Esther?”

Startled, she barely prevented herself from giving a start. “Y-yes, Miss Bernard. And I see you’re early for work again today?”

“Force of habit,” the old cook sighed, short stubby legs gliding over the floor with a light sort of elegance. She approached the rack and, without any ado, stood up on her very tiptoes to take on her apron, hands immediately brushing her silver hair back and constricting it within a low knot. “Talking about habits…” A smirk played over her lips, followed shortly by a wink, crow feet joyously pecking at the corners of her eyes. “It seems you’ve been rather persistent these days.”

“I do not understand, I’m afraid,” Esther claimed, even if just to complete their daily routine. Miss Bernard gave her shoulder a nudge, to then point to a set of vaguely cylindrical cakes, golden caramel shells shimmering, whispering, luring them in with sweet promises…

“Cannelés,” she explained. “Take some, they turned out well. Even he should like them.”

“And those?” Esther looked towards a basket filled to the very brim with flaky cookies, each twisted into something akin to a heart or two snail shells.

“Palmiers. Take some too, take some too. Although…”

“Although?”

“Well, if you’d be as kind as to listen to this old lady, I think it’d be best if you made something yourself… Whatever it is that you make.”

“I’m not sure it went all too well that one time…”

“You always say the same thing.”

The tea cart rattled all too loudly as Esther pushed it down the hallway, silver spoons plinking against porcelain cups, wicker baskets filled to the very brim with pastries shaking at the thought of overcoming yet another carpet bump. It was quite a journey for the kitchen natives, forests and oceans preserved within canvases speeding past them, interlaced with feasts attended by their honourable crockery great-great-great-grandmothers and -fathers alike. The most musical of winged beasts soared through the skies outside; treacherous adventure, or so they would claim. The chatelaine-guide clattered as they reached the door to safety, only a single knob separating them from the ramp connecting various floors… And the knob refused to budge.

Whether Esther pulled, pushed, turned or twisted was irrelevant. The door remained stubbornly locked, metal struggling against wooden frame, clawing into it just to resist her attempts. One of the headmaids would have the key, the reason suggested, yet it was also disillusioned about them being willing to spare any time on such “idle activities”; another possibility was to carry the cart up the proper staircase… Or to open the door through different means. Esther glanced around the corridor, her hand brushing against the chatelaine at her belt, fingers tracing the outline of the silver clasp to then slide down the chains and cautiously curl around the picklock hooked onto one.

“Esther…?”

Yet again, Esther narrowly avoided giving a start. Her gaze swept around the corridor once more, a nest of unkept maroon hair peeking from the staircase doorway.

“Mister Roux? Is there anything I can do for you?”

The man wiped his hands clean over his mud-stained overalls, his eyebrows arching like cat’s back. He shed some leaves and tilted his head to the side, his surprise only beginning to blossom. His eyes widened at last as they set on the cart. “Are you sure that’s the question you should be asking? C’mere… Err… I will come there. You need to have that thing carried upstairs?”

“I… Well, yes, but I’m fine.”

Something fell onto the cart as Mister Roux steered it further down the hallway, the wheels gliding over the carpet easily when guided by more forceful hands. “Don’t be silly. You’re so skinny I could snap you in half like a twig. I’ll carry it for you.”

He did as he said, leaving behind more than just dust and a few splotches of dirt. Hidden between the plates, cups, saucers and the baskets, a notepad remained unnoticed up until the very door of the foreign affair faction office. Inconspicuous, at first glance it appeared to be the sole clean item the gardener possessed, black ink contrasting with the striking white of the first page. “The property of Ambroise Roux”, it said, yet as prised as it was, it was also forgotten. To search for its owner then would be wasted effort – Esther simply tucked the notepad in her pocket and resolved to give it back at a later date.

***

The registry closed with a heavy thud, tables filled with numbers to the very brim disappearing when snugly embraced by the leather-clad covers. Esther leaned back against her chair, the last of fading dusk caressing the windows of her room, just short of begging for shelter. Steamed after cooking for hours in nothing but imports, exports, taxes and laws to somehow make some sense of it all, her mind was barely there, to the point where she could lose her head and take no note of it at all. Nevertheless, if Chevalier told her to do it, it meant she was either capable enough to succeed or her destiny was to fail. Esther closed her eyes. Muffled chirping stirred her tired thoughts.

When she didn’t look, Esther could pretend that it was not the palace grounds, but her home. With the smell of roses still being contained within the perimeter of their buds, the rustling of the greenery sounded deceptively similar to the groves she had known all her life. Lilac wouldn’t be in bloom yet either, she would think and trick herself into waiting for what would never come… Provided that she her eyes remained closed. But they did not.

“Esther?” Mister Roux asked, a lantern held in his hand. “What in the… What are you doing here at this hour?”

Esther straightened her back and, slightly embarrassed, grasped at her skirt. “Oh… I just needed some fresh air, I’ve got a bit of a headache. And you, mister? Long shift?”

“Yeah.” His broad shoulders heaved to then slump, mud too appearing rather dejected as he sat beside her. “What a day, though.”

“Has something happened?”

“Lots of work and then I lost something important. I dug through the whole damn gardens, but of course, it’s nowhere.”

Esther’s eyes lit up. Without even thinking, she patted down her pockets, the hard corners of the notepad pricking her things through the fabric. She reached for it as if it burned, handing it over just the moment it touched the garden air. “What luck!” she chirped, clearly relieved. “You left it on my cart. I realised only when I was already at the office, but I thought to bring it to you as soon as I’d see you… But the task from Prince Chevalier has kept me — Mister Roux?”

The man stared blankly at the notepad in his hands. He grew redder and then paler, almost blue, wavering between green and purple to eventually settle on white. He smoothed the cover with his thumbs. “You went with it to see..?”

Esther got up to face him properly. The lantern flickered.

“Mister Roux?”

“… that beast?” His voice fell into the quiet of the night. The boards creaked as Esther took a step back, eyes fiery with a fever she could not comprehend boring into her.

“I have to go.”

“You ain’t going anywhere.”

Esther ran, out of the gazebo and into the night. The gravel shrieked as it skipped out of her way, kicked away from its place with each hurried strike delivered by her feet. Shadows shivered as she passed through them, another figure following shortly after her. Flames trembled within their prison of glass, winds raising their heads at the quiet commotion. Nothing and nobody offered her aid.

The path winded and it turned, yet it never seemed to shorten itself, regardless of the number of corners Esther would cut. She threw a glance over her shoulder. The distance separating her from Roux had shrunk, shrinking further with each elapsed pace. Dewy gravel groaned again. She beseeched her legs to run faster, to carry her out of the reach of his hands —

The heel of her shoe slid off the edge of a misplaced rock. Esther flailed her arms, but remained off-balance, her palms crashing into the ground. Her heart rose to her throat. A mistake was one mistake too many, she was gravely aware, thick fingers armed in broken, dirt-padded, nails clawing into her shoulder to force her to look his way. Esther reached into her capelet at the last moment, a miniscule glass bottle falling into her hand just as Roux threw her back and pointed a something at her.

The liquid vaporised at once, thundering and scorching.

“You fucking —!”

The something fell. It was something metal and something hard, something that then reeked of sulphur and of fire, and that had just been not merely pointed, but aimed at her. The explosion she expected. It was the bang that deafened her. Esther still pushed herself to run. She could not forfeit her chance.

The rose bushes swayed from side to side, lulled in the arms of the gently fragrant winds.

Esther left the path behind. She dashed through the thorny greenery. Forward. Just forward. Towards the guardhouse that still shone and kept her hope aglow.

Nightingales, sparrows, blackbirds, titmice, and other birds fluttered their wings, clouds of cawing crows churning in the skies above.

Something sped by her. She was too afraid to look back.

The garden trembled.

Her shoulder burned.

Esther reached for another bottle, the second out of the three. She fumbled with the cork, yet since it was meant to break… She threw it without looking. It missed. Obviously, it missed. But wasn’t the noise enough? Why was there nobody there, why were the guards not alar—?

Her good arm lit up in pain.

The last vial shattered as if by itself. She didn’t even know when.

Roux did not waste his chance. He gained on her, the distance disappearing as if it had never been there to begin with. Cold fear took over Esther’s mind and gave her calculated strength, soothed any of her discomfort while herding breath into her lungs… Even if it hardly mattered. Her back hit the ground, large hands pinning her down by the neck. Esther clawed into the gardener’s forearms, her knees slamming into his back with each desperate kick of hers. Warm blood clung to her fingertips, moist and sticky rather than slick.

She could not scream.

That was not the death she had made her peace with.

Esther prayed to be saved, or at least, redeemed.

***

The cough became Esther, and she was the cough. Through it, in it, and in the icy blue of familiar eyes, she believed herself to be safe – or at least her body believed for her. She faded again.

***

Her mind came back what felt like a hundred of times, pivoting just below the surface of the lukewarm darkness yet refusing to break it for more than a flash. What was a dream and what was a nightmare, what was real and what she made up – Esther couldn’t tell. Thousand of ants must have entered her throat and bit her quite painfully, another hundred or so of them washing over her limbs in waves, a handful tepid flames licking at her shoulders and arms. Would she burn down? Oddly enough, she did not hate the thought, not completely… Not in the slightest… Not…

Esther coughed, and in her state between states, she slid into the grey unreality preceding the dawn. Mortar underneath her eyelids turning to sand, she stared ahead, just barely able to see contours and shapes, questioning whether they too would cease being the second she forgot about breathing. Esther blinked, hard and then harder, the blurriness overtaking her vision casting her into a place at the frontier of places. Neither cold nor hot and not even warm, neither sharp, rough, soft nor tender, where up and down seemed to be one and the same… Her head spun, the world heaving, a vortex of convoluted sensation threatening to pull her under the surface again.

“Too… loud…”

Something turned her around, this time clearly rough, clearly decisive, and yet also obviously warm. It stroked her arm, patted her back, pulled her into a rose garden of soft fabric and silken hair, enveloped her in its contradictory nature until she could make out arms and legs, an entire set of a body that lay beside her. Esther gasped, clumsy fingers combing through her damp – was it damp? Wet? Was it truly hers? – hair, unravelling any knots in their path with a fraction too much force… She sobbed, reminded how to feel.

Chevalier held her together, hot tears staining the collar of his nightshirt as her face found shelter in the crook of his shoulder. Pushed away by his impatient sighs, kept in place by the soothing circles drawn by his hands, she clung to him as if he was the sole piece of floating debris carried by the waves. The steady drumming of his heart eased the ache in her neck, the blockage in her throat giving way to wails. Confused bitterness just spilled from her, bottomless and somehow, also finite. In that moment, for but a single precious breath, Rhodolitian roses replaced her lilac. Esther became fine. She would remain fine. She only prayed, for that would require a miracle, that come morning Chevalier would not remember her pathetic state. She did not dare check whether he was even awake, whether he was even real, the warmth of his embrace returning her to the safety locked between worlds.

You've seen any typos? Let me know!

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @tele86

@rinaririr @keithsandwich @cheese-ception @bis-enti @claviscollections

@queengiuliettafirstlady @sh0jun @lucyw260 @solacedeer @bicayaya

@faustianfascination @m-mmiy @starlitmanor-network

Tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

#chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series #ikepri oc #ikemen prince oc #ikepri esther #starlitmanornetwork

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adventure-showdown · 9 months

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What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

City of Death

Synopsis

While taking in the sights of Paris in 1979, the Fourth Doctor and Romana sense that someone is tampering with time. Who is the mysterious Count Scarlioni? Why does he seem to have counterparts scattered through time? And just how many copies of the Mona Lisa did Leonardo da Vinci paint?

Propaganda

even if your not a classic who fan, you have seen moments from this, “wonderful butler, he’s so violent”, “youre a beautiful woman, probably”, “if you wanted an omelette I’d expect to find a pile of broken crockery, a cooker in flames, and an unconscious chef”. The location shooting, iconic, the music, iconic, the plot, so iconic I was once watching something (non doctor who) that referenced it as a fake historical event. Dare I say duggan is the greatest side character of all time. Romana’s outfit, the design of scaroth, the implication time lords can fly. it’s not my favourite overall, but its damn near close, it deserves AT LEAST the semi finals, AT LEAST. If you’ve not seen it or any classic who, go watch it, its so good, one of the best of the era. Also, how could I forget, the most watched episode on broadcast out of all of doctor who, including new who. (yes it was because itv was off the air due to strikes, but im glad its this episode that holds the record) (anonymous)

Doctor Who and the Pirates

Synopsis

All aboard, me hearties, for a rip-roaring tale of adventure on the high seas!

There'll be rum for all and sea shanties galore as we travel back in time to join the valiant crew of the good ship Sea Eagle, braving perils, pirates and a peripatetic old sea-dog known only as the Doctor!

Gasp as our Gallifreyan buccaneer crosses swords with the fearsome Red Jasper, scourge of the seven seas and possessor of at least one wooden leg! Thrill as Evil Evelyn the Pirate Queen sets sail in search of buried treasure, with only a foppish ship's captain and an innocent young cabin boy by her side! Marvel at the melodious mayhem which ensues as we sail the ocean blue!

And wonder why Evelyn still hasn't realised that very few stories have happy endings...

Propaganda

DOCTOR WHO AND THE PIRATES MY BELOVED Just. A masterpiece of somehow very sad nonsense with an entire episode full of Gilbert and Sullivan songs, all about trying to stop a young woman from committing suicide. Of course it is. The subtitle is ""The Lass Who Lost a Sailor"" which makes me feel emotions (HMS Pinafore's subtitle is The Lass Who Loved a Sailor). (@mischieffoal )

#round 6

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handeaux · 6 months

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Cincinnati’s Clean-Up Campaigns Remind Us That Our Ancestors Lived Like Pigs

If you had family in Cincinnati a century ago, I have bad news for you: They wallowed in garbage. It wasn’t entirely Grandma’s and Grandpa’s fault. The City of Cincinnati took a long time to figure out trash collection. Back around 1910, for example, the city sanitation wagons picked up only two kinds of refuse – ashes and garbage. Ashes were the remnants of the fuel burned in stoves and furnaces. Garbage had a very specific definition, as set forth in the 1909 Building Code:

“The word ‘garbage’ shall be held to include all refuse of animal, fish or vegetable matter which has been used for food for man, and all refuse animal, fish or vegetable matter which was intended to be so used.”

The average household also accumulated stacks of paper and piles of rags – no paper towels back then! – and the Rag Man hauled this stuff away for sale to the local paper mills.

That left several miscellaneous categories of rubbish or trash that no one had any interest in: broken bottles and crockery, old wooden barrels, scrap lumber, anything metallic like tin cans or buttons, bricks and stones, tree branches, and so on. All of this junk just piled up in the backyard or basement or both.

In the early 1900s, a few progressive organizations tried to organize city-wide clean-up campaigns to eliminate all the junk from residential backyards. In addition to aesthetic concerns, there was a strong financial incentive for hauling away this trash. Cincinnati’s fire-insurance underwriters applauded [Cincinnati Enquirer 5 January 1906] a report demonstrating that a 1905 clean-up effort had resulted in 200 fewer fires than were recorded in the previous year. Insurers actually lowered rates for the downtown businesses after clean-up campaigns and Captain Jack Conway of the Cincinnati Salvage Corps requested regular campaigns to remove trash:

“He advocates the ‘clean up’ campaign be continued with unabated vigor until all rubbish is removed from cellars, old waste from under benches, &c., which are the most prolific source of fires.”

The Cincinnati Woman’s Club led the charge in 1907 and talked Mayor Edward J. Dempsey into supporting a thorough spring cleaning for the downtown area. The mayor asked residents to haul all that backyard and basement debris out to the curb on one fine day in June. Problem was, all of the city’s street-cleaning wagons were already committed to hauling ashes and garbage that day. It was only when Mayor Dempsey talked the very reluctant Street Repair Department into donating their 40 wagons that the campaign was made possible. Even a fleet that large was not enough to handle the accumulated detritus. According to the Cincinnati Post [10 June 1907]:

“As the Cincinnati Street-cleaning Department has not enough teams and men to clean up all that district in one day, the Woman’s Club, for which the city is making the experiment, has appealed to all firms and corporations and all individuals having wagons and teams to assist in the work Wednesday, June 12. That is the day upon which all the hauling will be done.”

Annual “house cleaning days” gathered enough support to continue for several years, but the Woman’s Club had other initiatives to support and leadership for the campaign transferred to the Chamber of Commerce, which super-sized the operation. For the 1914 campaign, the Chamber set aside several weeks in the spring for the clean-up, followed by a city-wide inspection. The Chamber paid for 100,000 lapel buttons promoting the effort and printed 250,000 circulars informing residents how to participate.

The Chamber even coughed up a $25 prize for the best “Clean Up and Paint Up” song. The winning lyrics were composed by Dr. Stephen E. Slocum, professor of applied mathematics at the University of Cincinnati, whose words were set to music by Walter H. Aiken, director of music for the Cincinnati Public Schools. The local schools stepped up to promote the clean-up campaign, not only by distributing brochures and flyers, but by planting gardens in most of the city’s schoolyards.

In addition to aesthetics and fire safety, the 1914 campaign encouraged sanitary measures to stop the spread of flies. At a time when the majority of vehicles on Cincinnati’s roads were horse-drawn, manure piled up all through the city, supporting an infestation of flies unimaginable today.

After weeks of encouraging residents to tidy up their properties, the Chamber coordinated a city-wide inspection to document compliance and results. According to the annual report, some citizens were none to happy about having their domestic habits evaluated:

“There were some people with a misconception of the meaning of personal liberty who refused to allow inspection of their premises and some preferred not to aid in a general ‘clean up’ for fear it would be only spasmodic and not result in permanent good.”

Despite scattered opposition, the Chamber bragged that the 1914 campaign resulted in a $600,000 reduction in fire loss, from $1.3 million in 1913 to less than $800,000 in 1914. Nearly 8,000 wagonloads of trash were hauled out of residential areas. That success led to an even more ambitious campaign plan for 1915. In fact, the Chamber may have become a victim of its own success. A report suggests that few of the campaign’s ambitious goals were achieved in 1915, although the results were still impressive.

At the conclusion of the 1915 clean-up period, the Chamber coordinated city-wide inspections. More than 42,000 premises received a visit, with 30,000 earning a clean certification. The remaining 12,000 properties appalled the inspectors, who identified nearly 35,000 defects ranging from unsecured garbage and ash cans to obstructed fire escapes to overflowing privy vaults and unsanitary toilets to open manure piles.

More than 300 buildings were found in such deplorable condition that they were ordered razed. The city located nearly 1,300 illegally maintained backyard outhouses and ordered them replaced with flush toilets that could still be located in the backyard if preferred!

Thanks to the generosity of the Mabley & Carew Company, clean-up participants planted more than 84,000 trees on Cincinnati’s barren hillsides.

While congratulating itself on a job well done, the Chamber dinged the city administration for outdated and ineffective procedures for removing garbage and other refuse:

“The city has made no step forward for the disposal of its waste, except garbage, since its first log cabin was built in January 1789. As the population has increased, the dumps have grown in size and become nearer to built up residence sections. This has resulted in strenuous complaints from time to time, and the elimination of those dumps against which pressure has become too strong to be resisted by city officials.”

Alas, with the city administration still under the thumb of the Boss Cox machine, city officials could resist any level of public pressure without even breaking a sweat.

#cincinnati garbage #cincinnati clean-up #cincinnati sanitation

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leucisticpuffin · 1 year

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Six Sentence Not-Sunday

Tagged by @grey-gazania -- everyone seems to be posting whole scenes for this now, so have a small flashback scene from the AU:

I was struck, suddenly, by the image of the kitchen fifty years ago.

The furniture was much the same -- the cream walls, the table, the tall wooden cabinets -- but all the crockery and other bits and pieces had changed, or at least were in different places. It was disorienting, to see it so similar and yet so different: five blue cups instead of three blue and one green, several of Maedhros' recipe books missing, the pans in disarray on the sideboard. Fourteen-year-old Makalaurë sat just beside me at the table; in his lap was a mass of black fur, which resolved itself into a yellow-eyed cat when I looked more closely. He had been feeding her scraps of leftover fish -- so his habit of sneaking the kittens illicit treats was not new!

Maitimo rushed about the kitchen, a pan bubbling away on the stovetop and many other things demanding his attention -- enough to make dinner for at least eight. (This must be during the period when they had no cook.) He went to fetch something from the pantry, but as soon as he left the stove the pan started to froth and hiss. He hurried back to attend to it, but he was flustered: his hand slipped and he caught his wrist on the hot metal.

Maitimo drew back with a sharp hiss of pain, shaking his hand out. Makalaurë stopped fussing over the cat and looked up.

"Nelyo? What's wrong?"

"Burnt myself. It's not bad." Maitimo set the wooden spoon back in the pan and went across to the scullery, running the cold tap. "Could you keep an eye on that pan?"

"You're sure you want to leave it under my supervision? You must remember I am the kind of person who mixes up flour and icing sugar--"

"I don't have much choice, do I?" Maitimo snapped. "Don't touch the pan, just let me know if it starts boiling over." A minute later, he added: "I still don't understand how you managed to mix those two up. I know you get distracted, but you'd think you could see the difference!"

"That just shows why you shouldn't let me cook!"

Maitimo sighed. "What am I to do with you all?" he complained. "Turko and Curvo don't care about cooking unless it's over a campfire; Moryo pretends he's not interested because of Turko; the twins just want to throw flour at each other--"

"And I make inedible cakes," Makalaurë finished cheerfully. "Wait -- Moryo actually likes cooking?"

"When the others aren't there, yes," said Maitimo, shutting the tap off and wrapping a damp cloth around his wrist. "He's quite a good little helper. Won't touch anything slimy though."

The pan had not boiled over under Makalaurë's watch, and so Maitimo stirred it once and left it to simmer. Makalaurë, meanwhile, was quite occupied trying to keep the cat from getting onto the table and making a mess of Maitimo's freshly-chopped vegetables.

"I took my eyes off you for one second--"

I can't think of anyone to tag (it's been a long day), I guess anyone who wants to do this can :)

#this scene is unfortunately stuck in my scraps folder #it doesn't fit in the chapter i originally wrote it for and now i don't know where to put it :(#tag games #we will make this place our home

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honourablejester · 11 months

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Homebrew Magic Item: The Troublesome Teapot

A completely random sentient homebrew Magic Item inspired entirely by the belligerent sugar bowl from the Higitus Figitus scene in Sword in the Stone.

As you look around, you hear muffled cursing and the strange sound of rattling crockery. Your attention is drawn to a small wooden box, the sort used in fancy houses to store cruet sets and other tableware. The box is rattling quite violently. A piece of parchment has been glued crookedly to the ornate lid of the box. On this parchment, in scrawled, nearly illegible writing, is the following note:

“The Troublesome Teapot. Or, no. It’s not actually a teapot, it’s a sugar bowl. Just. Alliteration, you know? You give these sorts of things fancy names, don’t you? And sugar bowl or teapot, whatever else it might be, it’s troublesome. I may have, perhaps, had a slight incident with the Animate Objects spell and a surge of wild magic? That’s neither here nor there. The point is, the very foul-mouthed thing you can hear in this box is what I’m calling the Troublesome Teapot. Or the Troublesome Sugar Bowl, if you’ve absolutely got to be accurate about it. It’s … I’m sure there’s got to be someone it’ll get on with? Maybe that’s you! I mean, not at first, it doesn’t get on with anything at first, but you could be the person it warms up to? After a small, absolutely TINY bit of injury and mayhem. Miniscule. I’m sure you can handle it. Or someone can handle it. Just. Well. I didn’t want to destroy it? I mean, it’s an angry, hitty little thing that’s likely of no use to anyone, but …

Well. It just felt wrong. It’s hardly its fault my magic did what my magic always does. And look, if you do hold on to it and just … let it hit you for a bit, it will at least not hit you any more? And if you keep it with you, it sometimes does hit things that are mean to you. Although, most often, just whatever’s biggest around you. Which can be useful! Sometimes. On occasion.

Regardless. If you don’t want to chance it, please leave it alone? Don’t destroy it. There will eventually be someone who’ll be the companion it deserves. Or at least, that’s the hope I’m holding on to. There’s someone out there for everyone, right? Even horrible little sugar bowls who like to hit things. Well. That’s the hope, at least. And … thank you.”

THE TROUBLESOME TEAPOT (/SUGAR BOWL)

Wonderous Item (Construct), requires attunement

The Troublesome Teapot is a squat, rather ugly little blue ceramic sugar bowl, with four stubby legs, two stubby little handles/arms, a badly chipped lid, and a rather indestructible pewter teaspoon that it is violently attached to. You can attune to the Troublesome Teapot by successfully holding onto with both hands for 1 minute while it attempts to attack you. During this time the Teapot will make 10 attempted attacks on you (+8 to hit, dealing 1 bludgeoning damage on a hit). If you successfully endure all 10 without letting go of the Teapot, you have successfully attuned to it, and the Teapot will stay grumbling but acquiescent in its box until you summon it.

While attuned to the Troublesome Teapot, you can use a bonus action on your turn to summon it to your side. If initiative has not yet been rolled, the Teapot immediately makes a surprise attack on one target of its choice from among the creatures within 50ft of it, and will keep attacking that target if allowed to do so. If initiative has been rolled, roll initiative for the Teapot, and place it in the initiative order accordingly. You can use a bonus action to return the Teapot to its box at any time.

While the Teapot is active, it acts on its own turn and initiative. The Teapot does not obey your commands. Instead, it always moves to attack the strongest, most intimidating or otherwise most attractive target to fight in its vicinity. The Teapot is a tiny construct, with an AC of 18, 20 hit points, a Strength of 4 and a Dexterity of 18. It has a walking speed of 50ft.

On its turn, the Teapot can move up to its speed and use an action to make one melee attack on a creature with its spoon. It has a +8 to hit and deals 1d4 + your main ability modifier in bludgeoning damage. The Teapot can use a bonus action on its turn to take the Dash, Disengage or Dodge actions.

If the Teapot is reduced to 0 hit points, it becomes inert and must either be repaired using the mending cantrip or by spending an hour of downtime activity and 5gp to painstakingly glue it back together. After being repaired, the Teapot must be allowed a full long rest of 8 hours in its box before it can be summoned again.

Sentience. The Troublesome Teapot is a sentient, chaotic neutral construct with an Intelligence of 10, a Wisdom of 14 and a Charisma of 6. It speaks and understands Common, and has blindsense and hearing to a range of 50ft.

Personality. The Troublesome Teapot is incredibly belligerent, foul-mouthed, and inclined to insult anything and everything in its vicinity. If allowed freedom to act, it will invariably attack whatever creature in its vicinity looks like it would be the best in a fight, spouting insults the entire time. Once attuned, it will not attack the person it is attuned to, although it may continue to insult them. It is possible, although never yet successfully achieved, that the Troublesome Teapot may warm up to the person it is attuned to, to the point where it will accept commands or suggestions from them. Or at least settle for a warmer sort of insult.

(Optional) Waning Magic. The more often the Troublesome Teapot is damaged, the less it holds on to its magic. If the Teapot is reduced to 0 HP and repaired more than five times, it begins to get noticeably more listless and less lively. Its insults become more lackluster and less enthusiastic, and it begins to slow down in combat, reducing its movement speed to 30ft. After the eighth time it is destroyed and repaired, it can no long use bonus actions in combat. After the tenth time, it can no longer be summoned at all, and can only rattle sadly in its box. Once the Teapot has reached this stage, it has 2d20 days before it loses its magic entirely and ‘dies’/becomes nonmagical. The Teapot will be aware of and may understand what is happening to it. At the DMs discretion, it may be possible to stop and reverse this decline, perhaps by casting a spell such as Greater Restoration on the Troublesome Teapot, or by some other means, such as bringing the Teapot to a temple of a deity of craft, knowledge or arcana and asking for their intercession.

#d&d #5e #homebrew #magic items #sword in the stone #belligerent crockery

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lindsaybuilds · 1 year

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A boho-style cottage for a growing family.

All of the CC you will need:

Aira

Woodland Set

Woodland Add-on

Wooden Clutter Set

Study in Style Set

Plain Plants and Tiled Decors

AWingedLlama

Apartment Therapy

Paranormal Plants

Blooming Rooms Kit

Boho Living Stuff Pack

Blarffy

Sad Beige Playmat

Charly Pancakes

Lavish

Miscellanea

Modish

Slouch

Smol

Soak

Insomnia

The Lighthouse Collection

Cowbuild

Kids Bedroom Freebies

Felixandre

London Exterior

Kyoto Part 2

Kyoto Part 3

Shop the Look Season 1

Grove Part 2

Grove Part 3

Grove Part 4

Berlin Set Part 3

Fayun Part 1

Paris Part 3

GladlyPants

Little Forests Wallpaper

GreenLlamas

The Kerv Collection Part 1

The Kerv Collection Part 2

AKA Lukery

Bedroom

Modern Office

Hanraja

Bayong 01-04

Mini Set 35

Harrie

Octave Part 2

Octave Part 3

Octave Part 4

Country Collection Part 2

Country Collection Part 3

Brutalist

Shop the Look 2

Coastal Part 1

Coastal Part 2

House of Harlix

Tiny Twavellers

Bafroom

Livin’ Rum

Kichen

Orjanic Part 1

Orjanic Part 2

Harluxe

Baysic

Jardane

Baysic Bathroom

The Kalino

Urban Jungle Plants

Kate Emerald

Modern Metallics

KiwiSim4

Piha Living

Kliekie

Plants

Sculptures

Leaf Motif

Sunny Corner

Vintage Crockery

Little Ceramics

Floret Grove

All Patrons Gifts

Lili’s Palace

Folklore

Linzlu

Drainboard Sink

Little Cakes

Flowers and Things

Polaroid Pictures and Books

Rustic Elements

Moar Rugs

Hanging Guitar

LittleDica

Rise & Grind

Eco Kitchen

Sleek Slumber

Chic Bathroom

Delicato Lounge

Lumen Niveus

Bathroom Starter Kit

2498 Cozy Industrial Set

MadameRia

Back to Basics (All Links)

Max20

Cozy Bathroom

Plant Life

Child Dream Kit

Master Bedroom

Cozy Backyard

Poolside Lounge

Garden at Home

My Cup of CC

The Modernist Dining Room

Teenage Dream

MyshunoSun

Garden Stories Patio

Garden Stories

Serene Bathroom

Dawn Living

Freja

Lottie Bedroom

Daria Bedroom

Moonwood Garden

Luna Bedroom

Simmify Nook

Vanity Nook

Herbalist Kitchen

Simmify Music Nook Part 2

MYLS

Simple Clothes Racks

Peacemaker

Bowed Living

Kitayama Bedroom

Kitayama Living

Hudson Bathroom

Pierisim

Tidying Up

Calderone

Oak House Part 1

Oak House Part 2

Oak House Part 3

Oak House Part 4

Oak House Part 5

Oak House Part Six-1

Oak House Part Six-2

The Office Mini Kit

Living Room Mini Kit

Winter Garden Part 1

MCM House Part 1

MCM House Part 2

MCM House Part 3

MCM House Part 4

MCM House Part 5

Domaine Du Clos Part 1

Domaine Du Clos Part 2

Domaine Du Clos Part 3

Domaine Du Clos Part 4

Rold Skov Kitchen

Auntie Vera’s Bathroom

David’s Apartment Part 1

David’s Apartment Part 2

Teeny Weeny

The Plumbob Tea Society

Cottage Garden Stuff

Ravasheen

Peg 2 Differ

Peg 2 Differ 2

Deja Brew Coffee Clutter

Little Chef’s Toy Kitchen

Cottage Living Garden Clutter

Meow-dern Cat

Do-It-Your-Shelf

Purr-fect Cat

S-imagination

Oak and Concrete

Nota Living Room

Cottage Kitchen

Sixam

Teen Room

Small Spaces Laundry Room

Home Improvement

Stylish Wood Living Room

Kids Bedroom

The Clutter Cat

BusyBee Collection

Townie Architect

Moderno Living Room

Tuds

Wave

#the sims 4 cc #maxis match #build

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digitalvision · 8 months

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Wooden Tableware to Elevate Your Meals

Today, where almost every kitchen product is made from stainless steel and other materials, there's an undeniably special quality in the touch of nature. We are introducing our stunning and handmade premium quality wooden tableware collections tha bringing a unique warmth and charm to your everyday meals. Our wooden products are ready to transform your simple acts of eating and drinking into sensory experiences. If you want to explore finest collection of wooden, concrete, and woolen products, you can check out our website.

Now let’s explore our finest collection of wooden products.

1. Wooden Coffee Cup:

Ah, the humble coffee cup, a vessel not just for caffeine, but for the very essence of the morning. In those quiet pre-dawn hours, before the world fully awakens, the coffee cup becomes a companion, a confidante, and a catalyst for the day ahead. Its importance in the morning ritual cannot be overstated.

Our wooden coffee cup cradles your morning caffeine fix in cozy warmth, the natural wood grain adding a touch of organic elegance to your morning ritual. It's a quiet moment of luxury, just you and your coffee, connected by the simple beauty of nature.

2. Wooden Tea Cup:

Holding a wooden teacup is like cradling a piece of nature itself. The smooth, cool wood feels grounding, connecting you to the earth's raw beauty. Each cup boasts unique grain patterns, a fingerprint of the tree it once was, making it a one-of-a-kind treasure.

As you pour hot water over your favorite leaves, the wood gently infuses the aroma, creating a sensory symphony. Each sip reveals the natural sweetness of the wood, complementing the delicate flavors of your tea. This isn't just a cup, it's an invitation to slow down and savor the moment.

3. Wooden Ice Cream Cup:

Wooden ice cream cups elevate the simple act of enjoying frozen treats to a sensory extravaganza. Forget flimsy paper and sugary cones, these rustic vessels offer a unique blend of charm, sustainability, and taste that's sure to tantalize your senses.

Ditch the boring paper bowls and let the natural charm of wood add a touch of whimsy to your frozen treat. The cool wood against your fingers as you dig in creates a playful contrast, enhancing the simple pleasure of your favorite scoop. It's a reminder that joy comes in the smallest moments, often wrapped in the beauty of nature.

4. Wooden Water Glass:

Forget the predictability of glass and the coldness of plastic – wooden water glasses offer a unique and captivating way to hydrate. Wood, unlike glass or metal, is a natural insulator. This means your iced water stays refreshingly cold, while hot beverages retain their warmth longer, without burning your fingers. It's a comforting embrace in every sip, a delightful interplay between the coolness of the liquid and the gentle warmth of the wood.

Our wooden water glass transforms even the most basic act of hydration into a mindful experience. The cool water against the natural grain creates a gentle sensation, reminding you to savor each sip. It's a celebration of nature's bounty, a reminder to appreciate the beauty in the everyday.

5. Wooden Soup Bowl:

Cozy up to a steaming bowl of goodness in our warm, inviting wooden soup bowl. The natural wood insulates your fingers from the heat, while the rich aroma of the broth infuses the wood, creating a sensory treat. Imagine a chilly evening, candles flickering, and everyone huddled around the table, sharing stories and laughter over steaming bowls of soup. It's a moment of family, of warmth, of connection brought together by the simple power of nature.

Our wooden tableware is more than just beautiful objects; it's an invitation to reconnect with nature, to slow down and savor the everyday moments. Each piece is handcrafted with care, infused with the unique character of the wood, and ready to bring a touch of warmth and charm to your table. So go ahead, embrace the natural beauty, and let our wooden tableware transform your meals into moments of mindful joy.

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zadien · 2 years

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Safety in Numbers - TyHil Uncharted AU Pt 2

Despite the glorious heat of the sun, and standing in a beautiful city surrounded by stunning and rich architecture, Hilary was not enjoying herself. In fact, honestly, she was having a very bad day. One, this section of the city was crumbling into ruins around her—thick plumes of noxious, black smoke curling to the hard, blue sky, and the heat had a sweaty fist around her throat. Two, she was in the company of one of the most irritating men she’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Tyson Kinomiya.

Self-proclaimed reclaimer of artefacts; a glorified treasure hunter; with a dash of charm, a streak of intelligence, and an appealing smile, and who couldn’t be trusted as far as she could throw him.

Tyson was the last person she expected to run into on the blood-soaked, war-ravaged streets when she'd set off to uncover this story. A rocky cove or an underground cavern, sure, but not a war zone. Still, she mused, watching him shimmy up a building with the agility of a monkey, she should have known civil war would pull out looters.

Her stomach dropped as he pushed off the wall and reached for a small crevice in the wall, latching on with his fingertips and clinging there for a heart-wrenching moment before he climbed higher. She turned with a huff, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her corduroy pants, and studied the devastation.

She knew Balkov was here in the city, knew he’d donated funds to the state army to help them win the civil war. What she hadn’t expected was just how many of his own mercs he’d transferred in. So, what should have been an on-the-ground investigative piece on the burgeoning war had turned into a conflict zone report where she and her cameraman were running for their lives.

And then she’d found Tyson.

Her day had simply gone from bad to worse in a few quick seconds, amplified by a charming grin and friendly brown eyes. She refused to fall for that facade again, she decided, following his progress as he vaulted onto the rooftop. He paused, and as if feeling her gaze, he turned and sent them a jaunty salute.

“Idiot,” she sighed.

She turned to Kenny. “Have you captured this, all the damage? I’m not letting Balkov spin this, so he comes out the hero. These are people’s homes he’s destroyed, their livelihoods. All gone. All so Balkov can throw his money around and win some clout.”

Kenny angled his camera to take in the exposed interior of a three-storey building; rubble and debris covered the road in front of it, dotted with broken crockery and shattered chunks of wooden furniture. Did these people have time to run? To escape? To save some of their valuables and memories?

“Do you think Balkov will donate some of his funds to fix all of this?”

She made a sound of derision. “Doubt it. Men like him only want to see the world burn. They rarely want to fix it.”

“Come on, it’s clear,” Tyson called, as he dropped onto the street in front of them, dusting off his hands.

Hilary stifled a sigh, and Kenny lowered his camera, looking between them. “Are you sure you want to keep following him?”

No. Yes. “Safety in numbers.”

Plus, Tyson had a gun and knew how to use it; in the same way, Kenny had a camera and knew how to use that. If she was to have any hope of keeping them both safe, she’d need Tyson’s skills, so she’d continue using him for the moment. Once they were safe, they could happily go their separate ways. Her to uncover the truth about this devastation and him to find whatever treasure had ensnared him with its sirens’ call.

They headed down a narrow street, sticking close to the walls and stepping over craters and crevices in the ground. When they turned a corner and spied water gushing from an exposed pipe, flooding the street, Hilary stifled a sigh, rubbing her arms. Tyson exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck as he scanned the rooftops.

"We need to find another route," he muttered, sitting down on a windowsill and pulling out his map.

Hilary sidled over to him to peek over his shoulder, quickly picking out their location. "What about through there?"

"Too open, we'll want somewhere with more cover."

More cover, she repeated silently, because there could be snipers. She rubbed her arms a little harder.

“Why are you even here, Hilary?” Tyson finally asked, closing his map and slipping it into his pocket as he stood up.

She ignored the way his tan henley clung to his arms and shoulders, and the way his forearms tightened and flexed as he reloaded his gun. Now was not the time to let that weird little flame of attraction rekindle. Tyson was not someone she could trust.

But she could be civil.

She brushed down her blouse and squared her shoulders. “I told you. I’m doing my job.” At his exasperated ‘I’m listening’ look, she added, “I’m going to write an exposé. I got word that a fugitive war criminal was hiding out here and…”

Tyson’s brows furrowed. “And you were going to what? Capture him? There are people who are paid to do that Hilary.”

“Not when they think he’s dead,” she pointed out, an edge to her voice that she couldn’t quite conceal.

She’d heard the same rebuttal from her editor, so she’d taken some well overdue PTO and come here; bribing Kenny with her own funds and his sense of chivalry—but the story; oh, the story would be so worth it. She had become a reporter to always show the true story, and this, all of it, was a tale worthy of being told. Who else would stand up for these people? Not Tyson, that’s for sure. He would only be here if there was some fabled treasure to be found. Was Balkov here for the same reason? Funnelling money into the civil war as a distraction? Could they be using the bombings to blow up temples and museums for loot? It wouldn’t surprise her what people used war to achieve.

“Well, you’re right about that.”

Her journalistic sense of curiosity flared, and she inched closer to him, looking him in the eye to gauge his sincerity. “How are you involved in all this?”

“Uh, well… heh—”

“There you are, Tyson! Let’s go.”

Hilary stepped back and stared at the woman striding towards them wearing a pair of stonewashed, skinny jeans, a red t-shirt, a holster strapped over her shoulders and brown, well worn, ankle boots. Her skin was a deep brown and her hair a striking aquamarine that she’d tamed into two plaits. Her brown eyes narrowed at the sight of them and her hand went to her gun.

“Nope,” Tyson said, stepping between them. “We don’t shoot civilians, Ming-Ming. Besides, they’re journalists. This is Hilary and her cameraman, Kenny. Play nice.”

“Hello.” Ming-Ming’s mouth twitch in a facsimile of a smile before turning with all seriousness to Tyson. “Okay, but seriously, let’s go. Balkov’s on the move.”

Hilary’s instincts flared, and she planted a hand on her hip, tucking her brown hair behind her ear. “How are you involved with Balkov? What are you two looking for? It’s not like a war criminal and a treasure hunter operate in the same spheres.”

Tyson flinched. “I’m not a treasure hunter. I reclaim artefacts.”

“Uh-huh. So is Balkov an artefact or is he here hunting something he shouldn’t be while brutally murdering innocents in this farce of a civil war?”

Ming-Ming rolled her eyes. “Okay, Lois, why don’t you go and hunt up your story? And we will go and do what we have to do.” She hooked her arm through Tyson’s and heat burned in Hilary’s gut. “Let’s go, Ty. He’s already flown in Garland. We need to move.”

There was a vicious sense of pleasure when Ming-Ming tugged him but Tyson didn’t move. Instead, his head turned towards Hilary, brown eyes catching hers; she kept her expression neutral.

Something flickered over his face and he shook his head, pulling his arm out from Ming-Ming. “No. No, I’m not leaving them here.”

“They’ll be fine. Right, Hilary?”

Hilary swallowed her instant denial and mustered up a comforting smile. “Of course. We’ll be fine. We got here without your help and we have a job to do ourselves.”

She turned to Kenny and motioned for him to follow her, though her heart lodged in her throat at the idea of splitting up and creeping around a city filled with an army of trained mercenaries.

“See, she’s fine. Let’s go.”

There was something about Ming-Ming’s tone, edging towards desperation, that had Hilary looking over her shoulder just in time to see Tyson dig his heels in, eyes locked on her retreating form. Hilary felt a stupid little flip in her stomach. Silly, she scolded herself. They weren’t even friends. He’d used her to get funding for a treasure hunting trip, flirted and charmed her, and then he’d abandoned her—granted, he’d called the coast guards to come get her, but still, he'd left. He’d done it before, he could easily do it again.

Ming-Ming fisted her hands by her hips. “Tyson! Are you serious right now? We have to go.”

“They’re coming with us.” He offered a rueful grin at the narrowing of Ming-Ming’s eyes. “Safety in numbers.”

#tyhil #beyblade fanfiction #tyhil love countdown #posting here in case I never get around to finishing the rest of this #but I do love the idea of artefact-hunting Tyson and intrepid journalist Hilary teaming up #beyblade

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twistedeuphoria · 2 years

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“Coffee is a lot more than just a drink; it’s something happening. Not as in hip, but like an event, a place to be, but not like a location, but like somewhere within yourself. It gives you time, but not actual hours or minutes, but a chance to be, like be yourself, and have a second cup”

Hair: DOUX - Pammy Hairstyle Clothing: Seniha. Kerani Sweater (New! @ kustom9) Tres Blah - Tweed Skirt - Fatpack Addams // Kasia Lace Crop Top (*worn to cover some skin, overlaps with the sweater) Accessory: `M.BIRDIE / Rozel look. Beret RARE Prop: hive // hot coffee [no lid] . hold2R

Scene: New! @ kustom9 DISORDERLY. / Aromatic Autumn / Mug Board / Light ..::THOR::.. Genoa Tea Set ..::THOR::.. Genoa Cabinet - 3 doors ..::THOR::.. Bistro Chalkboard ..::THOR::.. Genoa Sweeties ..::THOR::.. Wooden Bar Stool ..::THOR::.. Genoa Counter - Left ..::THOR::.. Beans & Packages ..::THOR::.. Genoa Crockery Tray ..::THOR::.. Genoa Cabinet - 1 doors ..::THOR::.. Genoa Pitcher - bonus ..::THOR::.. Percolator - Copper mix ..::THOR::.. Bar Essentials ..::THOR::.. Genoa Bistro Shelf

~ hive // hot tea & coffee to go . dispenser . rez West Village Cotton Tote {vespertine} hanging succulents. - sedum burrito. {vespertine} hanging succulents. - string of pearls.

#kumuckyhara #second life #kustom9 #doux #seniha #tres blah #m.birdie #hive #thor #disorderly

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lizzisimss · 2 years

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Light Academia Apartment

CC used (list below) 1312 21 Chic Street apartment in San Myshuno 1 bed, 1 bath $69,825

Aira – https://www.patreon.com/airacc

Bubble candle

Luxury runner

Mini calendar

Mini easel

Notebooks with stickers

Vanilla dish rack

Vanilla recipe book

ATS4 - https://sims4.aroundthesims3.com/

Canisters basic

Canisters square

Kitchenrack

Brazenlotus – https://www.brazenlotus.com/

SecondChance

charly pancakes - https://www.patreon.com/charlypancakes

The Lighthouse Collection merged

Chalk merged

Lavish merged

Miscellanea merged

Modish merged

Smol merged

Soak merged

Felixandre – https://www.patreon.com/felixandre

Fayun Part 2

Shop the look season 1 merged

house of harlix - https://www.houseofharlix.com

Orjanic Merged

Bafroom

Baysic Bathroom Merged

Baysic Merged

Jardane Merged

Livin’Rum Merged

harrie - https://www.patreon.com/heyharrie

Brownstone Collection merged

DU Windows Updated

Octave part 2 merged

Octave part 4 merged

Shop The Look

KKB – https://www.patreon.com/user?u=15789815

Citrus Room

leaf motif - https://leaf-motif.tumblr.com

2202 Magnolia Bathroom

Botanic Boudoir

Little Ceramics

Starlight Crystals

Sunny Corner

Vintage Crockery

Patron gift 1

Patron gift 2

Patron gift 5

Patron gift 7

Lilis-palace – https://www.patreon.com/lilis_palace

Folklore Set Off the Grid Living

Intarsia Biedermeier Set

Intarsia Wainscot Wonderland

Landscape Paintings

Littlecakes – https://litttlecakes.tumblr.com/downloadspage

Twinkly lights LC

littledica - https://www.patreon.com/littledica

Rise & Grind Café merged

Madlen – https://www.patreon.com/madlen

Nuri Rug

max 20 - https://www.patreon.com/Max20

Master bedroom pack

Child dream kit

Mechtasims - https://www.patreon.com/mechtasims

Aphrodite Set Book

Mlys – https://mlyssimblr.tumblr.com/cc-catalog

Pufferhead

Deco Deskop Glove

my cup of cc -https://www.patreon.com/mycupofcc

ColourTalk Kitchen Merged

myshunosun - https://www.patreon.com/myshunosun

Serene Bathroom

Arrie office

Daria Bedroom

Dawn Living

Dawn Storage

Gale Dining

Simmify instant camera

Herbalist Kitchen

Vanity Nook

MXIMS – https://mxims.tumblr.com/

IKEA Barso Wall Grid B

ND – https://www.thesimsresource.com/artists/NynaeveDesign/

Lyne Half Blinds V2

Networksims - https://www.thesimsresource.com/members/networksims/

Doubt Wooden Floor

Novvvas – http://ts4novvvas.blogspot.com/

Vintage floor

oni - https://www.patreon.com/oni28

Cottage Kitchen

Vintage living room

peacemaker - https://peacemaker-ic.tumblr.com/TS4O...

BakerSeating

CretaKitchen

HamptonsRetreat

HinterlandsBedroom

HudsonBathroom

KingstonDining

KitayamaDining

Bowed Arched Lamp

pierisim - https://www.patreon.com/pierisim

Previous Promises

MCM

Oak House

The Office mini kit

Tidying up

Auntie Vera Bathroom

Domaine Du Clos

Winter Garden

Puffersuffer - https://www.patreon.com/puffersuffer

3pack tablecloth

RVSN – https://ravasheen.com/downloads/

SmartsContent School Posters

simplisticsims - http://simplisticsims4.com

RHckbreadbox

RHshadeA

Roundrug

Vintagecountryartllb

sixiamcc - https://imfromsixam.tumblr.com/

Artz

BirkerLine

Hotel Bedroom

LuxBath

SurelySims

KoT Appliance RangeHood

FalloutBaby Glow Stars

SYB – https://www.patreon.com/Syboubou

Bonbon

Galileo

Nathalie

Ohmygoth

TaurusDesign –

Cassandra Bathroom

Dina Dining Room

Eliza Bedroom

Eliza WalkInCloset

Elsa KidsRoom

Nina Living Room

Clutter Cat - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/thec...

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mogulinterior · 10 days

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Nature-Inspired Vintage Thanksgiving: Embracing the Warm Tones of Fall

As the crisp autumn air rolls in and the leaves turn vibrant shades of orange, red, and brown, it’s the perfect time to bring the warmth of the season indoors. A nature-inspired vintage Thanksgiving theme is a wonderful way to create an inviting and nostalgic ambiance. By incorporating earthy hues and timeless decor elements, you can transform your space into a cozy haven, rich with the spirit of fall.

1. The Palette of Autumn

The key to this look is embracing a color scheme that reflects the warm tones of fall. Deep oranges, rich reds, earthy browns, and honey golds mimic the changing foliage and bring a sense of natural harmony to your interior. These colors evoke the feeling of being wrapped in a cozy blanket, sipping hot cider, and watching the leaves fall outside.

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Start with your base by selecting warm neutrals for walls, rugs, or larger furniture pieces like sofas or chairs. Creamy whites or soft beiges provide the perfect canvas to layer these autumnal hues. From there, introduce deeper tones through accent pieces such as cushions, throws, or even wall art.

2. Antique Wooden Elements

Vintage furniture pieces with a rustic touch instantly add charm and character to any room. Look for old carved woods and distressed finishes in side tables, chairs, or armoires. These pieces, especially in warm honey gold or chestnut brown finishes, embody the earthy, grounded feel of the season.

A large, reclaimed wood dining table becomes the centerpiece for your Thanksgiving feast. Its worn, natural grain adds authenticity to the room, while its sturdy presence invites family and friends to gather around for a festive meal. Pair it with mismatched vintage dining chairs or benches for a more relaxed, farmhouse vibe.

3. Decorative Accents: Bringing Nature Indoors

Fall is a season rich in textures, and this is reflected in the natural materials and decorative accents you choose. Incorporate woven baskets, dried wheat stalks, and cozy woolen textiles to bring an element of the outdoors in. Consider these ideas:

4. Textiles for Texture and Warmth

Layering textiles is essential for creating a warm and inviting space during the fall. Opt for fabrics that are rich in texture, such as velvet, wool, and linen. A well-placed throw blanket on the back of a chair or sofa, or even a patchwork quilt draped over a rustic armchair, adds a cozy touch.

Vintage-inspired table linens, like lace-trimmed or embroidered tablecloths, can set the stage for your Thanksgiving dinner. Pair them with mismatched crockery, vintage silverware, and glasses for a truly timeless tablescape. For added warmth, use plaid or houndstooth napkins in deep autumn colors to tie the look together.

5. Old-World Lighting

To complete the vintage Thanksgiving look, turn your attention to lighting. Choose fixtures that have an antique feel, such as wrought iron chandeliers, brass wall sconces, or table lamps with stained glass shades. The soft, diffused lighting these pieces create will enhance the warm tones in your decor and provide a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

Stringing up twinkling fairy lights around doorways, windows, or mantles can add a magical glow to your space. These little touches evoke the feeling of shorter days and longer nights, filled with the warmth and light of home.

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6. Final Touch: Thanksgiving Table Styling

The dining table is the heart of the Thanksgiving celebration. Embrace vintage and nature-inspired elements by layering your table with a mix of textures, colors, and decor. Consider using a burlap runner down the center of the table, topped with a centerpiece of pinecones, dried leaves, and candles.

Vintage dishware or mismatched plates can add character to the table setting. Incorporate metallic touches with antique brass or copper accents, such as candle holders, napkin rings, or serving utensils. Complete the look with a harvest-themed cornucopia, pumpkins, or gourds, to celebrate the bounty of the season.

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By weaving together rich fall colors, vintage furniture, and natural elements, you’ll create a nostalgic and welcoming Thanksgiving space that captures the essence of autumn. This timeless design embraces the beauty of the season, bringing warmth and elegance to your home for the holidays.

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