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euphoricfilter · 4 months

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domestic daydreams:

[at christmas]

pairing: influencer jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || established relationship || non-idol au ||

summary: jungkook worries his life online bleeds too much into your relationship, but you can’t be more than happy to show everyone how much he loves you

word count: 2.1k

tags/ warnings: christmas!!!, fluff, kissing (ew), it’s sickening how in love they are, slightly suggestive in the beginning

notes: part of the domestic daydreams au, however can be read as a stand-alone :D is this me just waffling? that’s for you to decide !! it’s made a lot of sense in my head but i can’t tell if this is just words or actually a story

where you can find my other work!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

you feel jungkook’s thumb slip past the waistband of your panties, brushing over the delicate skin of your hip as his head slips onto your pillow.

you don’t bother moving, letting him twist your body until your back is pressed to his chest, bodies curled; entangled as he presses a thigh between your legs.

it’s warm. soft cocoon of the duvet wrapped around your body, jungkook’s gentle breathing tickling the back of your neck, goosebumps prickling down your back and up your arms.

it isn’t until he tugs you impossibly closer to his body does the sliver of warm morning light shine onto your eyes through the small crack in the curtains.

you groan a little, pressing your face into the pillow. somewhere in the back of your mind knowing you weren’t getting back to sleep.

you feel jungkook’s lips curl against your skin, “my love” he murmurs now that he knows you’re awake.

you hum, sinking that little bit further into his body.

“we need to get up” he whispers, lips pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, body shifting so he can brush a delicate kiss to your cheek.

his words catch your attention, eye peeking open to look up at him as he tugs you onto your back, arms caged around your head. there’s a lazy, sleepy smile on his face as he looks down at you.

“don’t look at me like that” he bends down, chest pressed against yours, though careful to keep his body weight off you.

“i’m comfortable” you murmur, eyes slipping back shut.

his fingers brush against your cheek, eyes flickering to capture every little detail of your existence as he holds you, accounting for every fibre of his body pressed against yours. how warm your bare skin is, cotton panties veiling a sacred piece of your being, soft against his thigh. how your lashes brush against supple cheeks, pretty pretty pretty. ever so pretty and lovely and the reason for his existence.

“but i have a surprise” his lips brush against your cheek, fingers curling to hold the back of your neck.

“it’s early” you argue.

“it’s almost noon” he laughs, face pressed into the arch of your neck and shoulder.

your eyes squeeze shut, arms slipping around his body “it’s the weekend”

“close. it’s friday”

you sigh, “m’ sleepy”

“my poor baby” he coos, hands slipping down your body until they’re hooked under your arms, tugging you to sit up between his legs.

you press your forehead against his shoulder, “you said surprise”

“i did” he hums, “what about it?”

“what is it?”

his hand runs down the length of your back, ever the tease as this hands slip over your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your boobs.

“that would ruin the surprise” jungkook looks down at you.

“i’d rather it be ruined than sit here anxiously for hours while we get ready” you glance up at him through your lashes.

a gentle smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “i should have known you’d say that” he tugs you closer to him by the back of your neck, quick to press a kiss to your lips, “in that case… i was thinking of getting a real tree this year”

i pause for a moment, “huh?”

you pull away from him a little as he opens his mouth, “what about the one in the spare room?” you ask.

he shrugs, “last year you said you wanted a real tree one day”

“one day” you shake your head, “aren’t they expensive?”

“i can afford it now, baby. let me treat you”

you swallow, “but…”

“no buts. the place closes at three and we still need to eat”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

you lock the door to the apartment, jungkook having gone ahead to warm up the car for you.

you slip into the passenger seat, eyes instantly catching onto the empty phone holder on the front ledge of the car.

“are you not filming?” you turn to him, eyebrows pinched.

“no?” he shakes his head, eyes wide, “this is time for us, i don’t want to ruin it because i’m filming”

you blink over at him, “oh”

he tilts his head in the way jungkook does, eyes veiled with curiosity.

“why, do you want me to?”

you shake your head, “i just thought it would be something your viewers would like”

his eyes soften, hand slipping across the console, fingers dipping into the meat of your thigh.

“i get so scared” he admits, watching now as you’re the one with the curious filled eyes.

“why?” you shake your head.

“because i don’t want every single moment we spend together looked over simply because i’m filming. i don’t want you to think i don’t care, that im not thinking of the time we spend together because i have my phone filming it all”

a hint of a smile curls onto your lips.

“you’re surprisingly good at multitasking” you tell him, “when we first started dating…” you say, and he nods, “i really did worry you weren’t experiencing everything with me”

“i never—“ he shakes his head.

“baby, i know” you placate his worries, “you gush about how much you love what we do every night” your hand slips over his still on your thigh, “and when i go back and watch the videos you post, you never take notice of the camera, you look at me too much”

“that’s because you’re so pretty” his fingers tighten between your own.

“people talk about it in the comments” you lean your head against the headrest.

“you read the comments?” he whines, pout tempting to tug at his bottom lip. because he’d told you time and time again not to— too scared you’d stumble across something mean and he couldn’t bare the idea of someone shit talking you.

your eyebrows narrow in obvious intent, “obviously. i’m nosy and i want to know what people are saying about you… i just so happen to stumble across comments about me too”

“and you’re not uncomfortable?” he worries, trying to scoot that little bit closer to you from his seat.

you shake your head, “no”

“promise?”

a quirk of a smile threatens the corners of your lips, “if anything i like it…” you start, watching the tension in his shoulders loosen, “reading about how much everyone knows you love me”

a huff of a laugh bubbles up jungkook’s throat, “ah so that’s it?”

there’s a hint of amusement in his tone, though he can’t blame you. not when he sees comments of jealous men rattling about videos of him with you. not when he sees the same, so many comments about how you look at him like he held the world in the palm of his hands, how it looks like he’d plucked a million stars, putting them in a jar for you to admire.

“makes me feel nice” you admit.

his fingers slip from between your own, fumbling around the pockets of his coat as he pulls out his phone. he slots it onto the little phone holder, swiping to the camera.

“i won’t film all day, just little clips i can edit together. then everyone can see what we did, yeah? i want today to be special, and i know you don’t mind… but for the sake of my own sanity” he tells you, leaning over the console. his hand falls to the back of your neck, tugging you forward, closing the distance between the both of you.

the kiss is soft, the type that means ‘i love you’ without having to really say it. the type of kiss that has your heart fluttering all funny in your chest behind the restraint of your rib cage. where your cheeks go all warm and your insides feel all gooey and nice, where 2 stars align perfectly in that moment and you feel utterly complete like this is where you’re meant to be.

your fingers itch to hold onto jungkook as he pulls away, warm breath fanning over spit soaked lips he he stays there for a moment.

“we’ll be late” you remind him, eyes flickering to the clock.

he hums, not before leaving over and pressing another delicate kiss to your cheek.

he’s quick with introducing what the both of you are doing once he presses the start of the video, hand still gentle over your thigh as he glances over at you every now and then. because even with the sight of your face through the video on his phone, it would be a wasted opportunity to not look at you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

you tug at the sleeve of jungkook’s jacket as you cross the road to the tree farm.

“hmm?” he looks down at you, eyebrows raised in question.

you point to a parking lot, shops lining the length of the road.

“can we go in there?” you look up at him, eyes wide with wonder, the sort of look that has jungkook’s resolve melting into a puddle and seeping from every pore of his body until he’s giving in.

he taps on the screen of his phone, before looking back at you.

“if we’re quick” he murmurs, tucking your connected hands in his pocket to keep them warm.

you beam up at him, tugging him across the road to one of the home stores, christmas decorations lining the windows.

“take a video of this for your followers” you tell him, pointing to a a little candy cane, utter joy dancing across your face when you press on his hand and it starts dancing.

you bounce on your feet as jungkook pulls his phone out, barely paying attention to what he was filming, not when his eyes were on you, so much joy radiating from a fragile human body. some days he wonders if the videos are more for yourself than who follows him.

a collection of moments you want to keep forever posted on his social media for you to watch whenever you please. though he doesn’t mind, not when he can go back, and watch the small glimpses of joy when he pans the camera over to you, your happiness locked in that moment of time forever.

he’s not sure how you ended up with three new sets of baubles, or why you suddenly decided you wanted an angel instead of a star on top of the tree, but that doesn’t stop him from slinking back to the front of the store to grab a basket for you. or him following you around every isle as your hands skim over everything that looked soft, or your bright eyes when you’d show him all the things you liked the look of.

“if we’re getting a real tree this year, should we put the fake one in our room instead?” you ask him, crouched down on the floor as you look through all the reefs.

“what about the small light up one we have?”

you hum, “you can use it in your background for your streams…?” you suggest, “do you need lights too? you can use the ones in our bedroom if you need to”

“sure” he chirps.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“it’s big” you stand there with your hands on your hips, “it looked smaller at the shop”

the both of you stand there looking down at the tree.

“what if it touches the ceiling” he murmurs, wondering if he’d made a mistake or not.

the camera had been rolling for over ten minutes as the both of you stand there, wondering how you were going to tackle the tree.

“it should be okay” you peer up at the ceiling, head tilting a little, “maybe we won’t need the angel then”

“but she’s so pretty” he turns to you, “right, let’s do this then”

you watch him struggle a little lifting it, eyes flitting to the little pine needles falling onto the carpet.

“just enough space for the angel, good choice baby” he grins at you.

you stand there looking at the tree, “it’s so prefect, thank you” you whisper, arm linking with his, “this is literally the best christmas ever”

“we haven’t even decorated it yet” he laughs, arms slipping over your shoulders.

“still” you tell him, “it’s more than i could ever ask for”

“merry christmas, jungkook” you look up at him, that warm fluffy sort of love blanketing your soul.

“merry christmas” he murmurs, head tilting down.

there’s nothing rushed about the kiss. time, the outside world, everything beyond the both of you stopping within your apartment as you share the raw intimacy of pure love with only the camera as your witness. another precious little moment captured and held forever, one that will never make the cut of the video. something for jungkook to hold onto forever, a secret for him.

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nothing0fnothing · 6 months

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hey I have some lived experience personal care advice I had to learn the hard way in my adulthood after growing up with abusive neglectful narcissistic parents. Maybe it will help someone else.

The most important room in your house to be clean is your kitchen. If you only have a few spoons and a whole house of mess, spend them on getting your kitchen clean, hygienic and tidy enough to be usable.

spending money on things that last longer or work better isn't a waste of money. You don't have to use the cheapest of everything because spending is bad work out what YOU think is worth splurging on.

Always buy the best shoes you can afford. Taking care of your feet is so important for your health. If you're afab the same goes for underwear, buying one pack of good quality, good fitting cotton breathable underwear will save you so much money on feminine care supplies if you get what I'm saying.

Get your feet measured in a shoe store. Especially if you're over 25 your feet will have grown since you were 18. I spent years thinking my body was wrong because my feet ALWAYS hurt. My girlfriend suggested we measure them and I realised I was in shoes two sizes too small. For years!! I didn't even know shoes were supposed to have space in them.

a cheap bottle of washing up liquid (dish soap) costs like £1 and can be used on basically every surface. Clean your counters, toilet, sinks, bathtub or shower, oven and hob with a scrub daddy and some cheap washing up liquid. It doesn't react with other chemicals and it cleans deeply and easily. I even use it on the inside of the shower glass where it collects that crusty water residue.

When bathing with an unscented bar soap everywhere first. Then wash a second time with your scented soap. The scented liquid soap isn't designed to clean you it's designed to make you smell beautiful.

Don't use scented soaps on your kitty. Don't use femfresh or other feminine washes on your kitty. Don't use feminine wipes on your kitty. You use your unscented bar soap you use on the rest of your bodh on your kitty once a day. That's all it needs.

You don't need sewing skills to mend things. A £5 sewing kit you keep somewhere in your house and maybe a 2 minute YouTube tutorial is all you need to fix holes in your clothes and make them last longer.

Cereal for breakfast is quick and convenient but aim to eat protein for your first meal. Things like eggs, meat, a protein shake, Greek yogurt. You'll feel fuller for longer and your body will appreciate it.

most things don't need to be ironed. For the things that need creases out a steamer is better for the fibres and easier to use. Simply hang up the item and hold the steamer against the creases.

#cptsd recovery #abuse recovery #trauma recovery #recovery #ptsd recovery #mental wellbeing #mental wellness #dysfunctional household #self care tips #self compassion #self healing #personal growth #self acceptance #mental health #emotional health #therapy

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chiefdirector · 4 months

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Risking | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

One Year Ago.

March 16th.

Despite every fibre of her being screaming for her to run in the other direction, (Y/N) kept her pace steady as she approached Lamberts Coffee Shop. The place had been in operation for as long as she could remember, the owner, Reggie Lambert, was (Y/N)’s landlord at one point in time. She had always come here on weekends when the old man had been working behind the counter. If he still did, she would not have come. He was another life that she could not risk.

Pulling her hood over her head, she entered the cafe and placed an order for a plain black coffee. She would normally go for some complex, overly sugary coffee but talking was the last thing she wanted to do so the bitter taste would have to do. It came in a flimsy paper cup, resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose in disgust, (Y/N) made her way to the back of the cafe and sat down in the furthest corner.

This spot, unlike the rest of the store, did not attract many customers to sit. The lack of windows causes the area to seem unwelcoming and somewhat neglected. All of the sofas and the comfier chair were in the main section of the cafe, near the counter. If it were a normal day, she would have sat on the green sofa she had once owned. It got donated to Reggie when she moved in with Tim.

The sofa was old and worn down in all the best ways. The cushions seemed to consume anyone who sat on it. The tops of the cushions had lost some colour over the years and the cotton blend covers had gotten softer with use. Blankets were strewn over the back and there were some decorative pillows stacked up one one side.

Her favourite part was the small embroidery over top of the frontmost left foot. She had embroidered her and Tim’s initials into it just before she gave it away. The sofa had been her first purchase when she had started as a rookie Even though she had gotten it second hand herself, it had become one of her most valuable possessions. It hurt to give it away, even though she knew that she would be back in the cafe. It was like she was giving up a part of her life.

(Y/N) chuckled at the thought. Of course she thought it was one of the most tragic things, if only she could see herself now. Sitting in a cafe on the off chance she may see Tim again.

He didn’t know she was here, so he had no reason to come. They had always come together, the only time they had come alone was the day they had met. Reggie had mixed up their orders (he claimed it was accidentally but (Y/N) knew that he had been trying to get her to get back on the dating scene for a while). They sat down together and chatted. Tim left with her number. It was March 16th.

And they have spent every March 16th there since. Until now.

(Y/N) winced at the strong bitter taste of her coffee, slightly regretting not taking the extra seconds to get cream. She placed the cup back down on the table, she could bear the taste while she waited. It only took another couple of minutes, before the bell on top of the door chimed again. (Y/N) looked up at the noise and then back down at the sight of an elderly couple walking in.

It passed this way for a few hours. She would look up when the door chimed, only to look away when another stranger entered. She would take a sip of her now cold coffee and wait for another chime. By the time the clock read 4:30, she had been drinking for an empty cup for at least an hour.

Resigned to the fact that she would not see Tim today, (Y/N) binned her cup and moved in a hurry, cursing herself that she had thought that he would be there. Why would he have, he had no reason to go anymore. She was no longer in his life, she was no longer an anniversary worth remembering.

Adjusting her hood and keeping her head down, she opened the door to exit but waited for a man to enter. Swiftly, she left the premises, barely registering the all too familiar voice thanking her.

(Y/N) left the city after that. She knew the risk she had taken by coming here today, a part of her was thankful that she hadn’t seen Tim today because her selfishness hadn’t cost him anything. It took a few hours to arrive back at the dingy motel she had taken as residence.

The door was open when she arrived.

She had always gone out of her way to ensure that her accommodation was thoroughly locked and secure. There was no way that she had left it like that, it wasn’t in her nature. Nothing Has changed inside, her spare firearm was still tucked away in the bathroom cabinet, and her phone she used to call Williamson was still under the bed-side table. None of her clothes had moved from where she had strewn them across the floor.

The only difference was a polaroid on the bed.

The image was slightly blurry but it was clear what was being shown. Reggie slumped forward in a chair he was tied to. He was badly bruised, sporting a broken nose and a blackened eye. His lip was swollen up and cut from where had bitten down in pain. Blood was streaming from a wound on his head and from a single bullet wound in his chest.

As she examined the image even more, it became clear why such an atrocity had happened. At the bottom of the photograph in the white frame were two simple words.

Strike Two.

Silent, she picked up the photograph and moved to open the bedside drawer. Gently, she placed it down into the drawer on top of an nearly identical picture of her brother that read Strike One.

She knew what this meant. She had been sloppy. And she would pay the price. As she closed the door, she swore that she would not let her emotions allow her to make a decision that ended up taking a life of someone she loved.

Part Twelve | Part Fourteen

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e

Tags are open :)

#tim bradford x reader #time bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie #bottom of the river #chiefdirector

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verysadghostieinacloset · 2 months

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Wrote a silly little fic about my best girl Ito and the trans experience :P I also wanted to explore the friendship between Jekyll and Ito, and Rachel and Ito.

This thing is filled with scientific and historical inaccuracy; it’s not a source of information, it’s a story. But I hope you enjoy because I enjoyed writing it ^^ ♥️

Category: Gen

Fandom: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)

Relationships: Dr. Henry Jekyll & Virginia Ito, Rachel Pidgley & Virginia Ito

Characters: Virginia Ito, Rachel Pidgley, Dr. Henry Jekyll

Language: English

Word count:3,184

Summary: This won’t do, at all. She needs to investigate a solution to this feeling, naturally. Maybe if she can pinpoint the exact source of perplexity and worry, she can go about systematically and logically eradicating it? Yes, logic always works to help her calm down, just solving the problem like it is a maths equation or a chemical reaction can work wonders.

Wait. A chemical reaction?

OR Virginia Ito does some research- with the help of her two friends, Henry and Rachel. She also learns about acceptance along the way.

Can I prick your finger for science? (For self discovery?)

Ito doesn’t know what’s wrong.

She feels it; with every fibre of her being, brutal and cold, hugging at her shoulders and arms and stomach and legs, but she doesn’t know what it is. She’s been scrutinising it in the mirror for at least 10 minutes now- she’s wasting precious time when she should be studying- and she still can’t quite place her finger on it.

After all, there is no way it can be that same feeling of dread she’s been feeling for years, every time she looks in the mirror. No, it can’t, because she’s got long hair now, and everyone calls her Virginia, and ‘she’, and her life’s amazing because she can go out in amazing dresses.

But when she strips it all away, and stands with only soft linen covering her body, she feels something wrong. It makes her shameful, and a hint helpless, and she can’t stop looking at all the things wrong with her body.

Oh. It’s back. It’s stalking her. It’s not going away.

Which is honestly so rude of this feeling, curling itself dully in her stomach, trying to make her feel horrible about her body. How dare her mind play tricks on her and tell her she isn’t a woman? when she’s so clearly standing in front of the mirror, with shoulder length hair and a soft smile and a closet of warm colours that skirt her ankles.

This won’t do, at all. She needs to investigate a solution to this feeling, naturally. Maybe if she can pinpoint the exact source of perplexity and worry, she can go about systematically and logically eradicating it? Yes, logic always works to help her calm down, just solving the problem like it is a maths equation or a chemical reaction can work wonders.

Wait. A chemical reaction?

Of course, if the source the feeling stems from is this uncomfortableness in her own skin, is the doubt that she is really a girl because she looks like a boy beneath the layers of cotton and padding, then the solution would be to modify some part of her to change that, would it not? And is the human body not just a cluster of chemical reactions? Surely there was something organic that meant she was born this way, with spindly arms and a disappointingly flat chest, and differentiated her biologically from, say, Rachel? Right, and in such a case, all she would have to do is understand this compound to manufacture it artificially, and, in theory, once she’d prevented the compound in her body right now that made her look this way, and replaced it with said compound, it would work?

It seems too far-fetched, and Ito is a chemist, not a biologist. But then again, a society for rogue science seemed too far-fetched and yet here she was. What could she truly call impossible anymore?

“Doctor Jekyll?”

“Please, call me Henry.” He smiles at her, calm and practised, that same smile he’d given her the day he took her hand and led her to this palace of wonder. “Can I ask you a question?” She starts, looking up from the old notes he’d shown her, staring at him across the phials lined in metal on the table, one or two bubbling with some mediocre experiment she’d sought after to keep her excitement momentarily distracted.

“Of course you can, Ito.”

“You’re a biologist, right?” She approaches the subject cautiously, like she’d learnt to over the years, after the rejection and disgust of her own people, frowning in some places over her conduct towards the incoming topic, of the eagerness to change into something they thought her not. But they are gone now- and despite England itself being so uninviting too- something tells her, maybe, she can find peace here.

“I have studied biology and medicine, this is correct.” Henry raises a tentative eyebrow, as if contemplating her words, and what she may ask of him.

“Well…I’ve been thinking.” Pause.

“This is the perfect place for that, go ahead.” His ease relaxes her shoulders slightly, but there’s still the edge of fear about what he might do when she next asks, “This is an absurd topic,” Ito prefaces hastily, nerves getting the better of her.

“We’re rogue scientists, I’m sure it’s not too absurd.”

“But, say a..if a man wanted to appear as a woman- likewise, a woman wanted to appear as a man- and by this I mean, sound like, feel like, look like; is there, hypothetically speaking, some sort of biological chemical which differentiates the two and could potentially be…replaced?”

Henry studies her face carefully for a moment after she’s finished speaking. She cannot bring herself to meet his eyes, lest she find disgust or anger there like she had so many months ago, but she is certainly aware of his measured movements, of the stiff way he gives her his full attention and places his hands on the desk. Hot shame flushes her cheeks and regret roils inside of her, threatening to tear open her heart.

But then, respite, as he sighs softly. “Yes, I suppose.” Henry explains carefully, taking a seat opposite her. It’s all Ito can do to keep her breath from catching and her hands still. She glances up at Henry (mentor, kind of saviour, friend), and studies his eyes for a moment or two to find no hate all- surprisingly- just confusion and some concern.

“Biologically speaking, development of gendered characteristics begins when a child comes of age- when their body begins producing amounts of substances called hormones. Female hormones produce the desired effects of a woman’s body and emotion. Male hormones produce a deeper voice, more hair, a difference in emotion- anything that is different between me and you, is different because of the levels of each of these chemicals in our bodies. However, Ito, there is not much more I can tell you about them. They are a fairly new discovery, with very little knowledge surrounding the subject.”

Silence befalls them when Henry finishes talking, and Ito thinks on his words for a while. Soon, the atmosphere grows awkward, stiflingly so, and she can feel the way Henry’s gaze worries over her with healing curiosity.

“Forgive me for asking,” he clears his throat, voice stilted, weary. “What sort of research do you plan on undergoing?”

“I’m studying change.” Ito replies, somewhat uneasily.

“Change how?”

She panics, glancing away and racking her mind for the best way to explain. So far, and by his reaction, Henry has in no real way given her reason to worry at all, or let the feeling of her stomach roiling with fear latch itself to her. It infects her now, though, like growing disease, and she really dreads her downfall if she so much as opens her mouth.

“My hair wasn’t always this long.” She murmurs softly, a hand instinctively hovering near her hairdo. She meets his eyes begrudgingly, if somewhat fearful, and begs him silently to understand what she means. The last time she said it out loud, a world seemed to end.

Henry opens his mouth as if to press further, ask again because he didn’t quite understand. But then, she spies understanding dawning in his eyes like resolute kindness, and he nods gently, some semblance of a reassurance playing the smile on his lips. Something eases in Ito’s chest, like the world has lifted its fear from her shoulders.

“I see.” Is what he says next. “I won’t pry. But..” He looks like he’s contemplating something for a moment or two. Ito holds her breath, waits for ‘but I wouldn’t want you in the Society anymore’ or ‘but such conduct is improper and you’ll always be a male beneath it all.’ What she gets is; “You’re safe here. And so is your secret with me, if you want me to keep it.”

“Please do.” She answers hurriedly, anxiety still ebbing at her skin, she’s so sure her ears are deceiving her.

Again, Henry gives her a nod and that smile. “For what it is, you are a really courageous young lady, Virginia. And I’d hate for anyone to harm you so, if you find yourself ever in trouble, please don’t be afraid to speak to me.”

Ito lets out a shuddering breath at that, and the last whispers of panic fall away like snow sliding from glass. Henry’s smile is genuine, and that seeps out into his words, the way he looks at her like he means what he has said. Ito cannot seem to comprehend it, but at the same time, what is there to imagine?

“Thank you.” She feels something like tears blur her eyes and wipes them away hurriedly. ‘Lady.’ She seems to realise belatedly, as she sits there and looks at him. ‘He called me a lady.’ Her heart skips a beat, and then Henry chuckles slightly, getting up from his seat and returning to his work. “You’re very welcome, Virginia. I wish you the best of luck in your research and change. I’m sure you’ll do some marvellous things.”

Previously, Ito had convinced herself- ever since that fated day she left Japan and never looked back at the faces of the ‘family’ who hated her- that she would not rely on the validation of others for her comfort or happiness; that she was a woman no matter whatever anyone said or did or called her. She still retains that sentimentality, of course, but Henry’s words loosened something against her heart.

It felt good to be seen for who she really was.

Her mentor’s words had left her puzzled, she will admit. The substance she was looking for certainly existed biologically, but contemporary discovery meant that there was very little information on it, despite her searching for hours in local libraries for any type of biological papers on the topic. It made Ito somewhat distraught and her patience thin in some places, but the prior feeling of dread that had her so disgusted with herself had dulled down to manageable, so at least that was a plus.

Her excitement had been insatiable so that she sprung to work as soon as she could, grabbing her cloak and making for the libraries on foot, after she’d assessed every book on human biology available within the Society itself. The walk had served another purpose too; Henry’s reassurances had left her head reeling oh so delighted, but paranoia had followed it and some good old, polluted air was in order to clear her thoughts.

It hadn’t done much; perhaps given her space for a few epiphanies, none of which she could really claim because most of her walk was just the numb thought of hiding herself, of the way Henry had reacted with the most genuine attitude, of whether or not he meant it at all and she was truly safe.

This was proving quite difficult. Perhaps it would be safest for her to fall back on that mentality; if Jekyll did tell the other Lodgers (she doubts he would, inside, he’s too kind-), and they all gave her difficulty for it; well, it wasn’t new to her, was it? Would it hurt like her ‘family’? She doubts it, with how new this all is to her. Alas, no matter their reaction, she’d stick to her ideology through the thick and thin of it; once it came down to it, Ito didn’t need anyone to love herself.

As she traverses the hallways of the Society, back up the winding steps to her laboratory, she spots Henry midway to her room, walking somewhat briskly. For a moment, Ito is shocked (she’s not sure why; he is the leader of this place, after all- it’s only natural for the man to be working), but then she regains her composure and he waves warmly at her. “Good afternoon, Virginia. Is your research going well?”

“Well, not…I don’t have much information.” She replies, trying to avoid stuttering as her thoughts slot appropriately and calmly back into a coherent fashion. The way he treated her, his words, the distinct calmness in his voice of speaking to a friend made it impossible to think that she had worried over him betraying her like that. He did, after all, vow to her safety. (Who's to say he’ll be the only one like this? Is there good to this world?)

“Then you get your own information.” He reassures, and Ito’s mind stills, focuses solely on her project. He’s right; this is her passion and she won’t spend it worrying away about the possible perceptions of herself from others. “Is that not what rogue science is?” She finishes, not missing a single beat.

Henry smiles at her. ‘Yes.’ She thinks. ‘Acceptance is possible.’

Exasperated, but with newfound energy, Ito pushes open the door to her lab, fingers already coming up to frantically undo the broach holding her cloak around her shoulders.

She hisses in abrupt pain as something pinches her finger, and when she draws back, there is red beading at the very tip of her forefinger. It seems she was too frantic, because now she is bleeding lightly.

Ito rolls her eyes, sucking on the blood flow to stop it whilst she hangs her cloak up. Then, she walks over to her desk, arrayed with notes and the stray pages of copied out biology papers, a few phials nested amongst them.

Hold on. Blood.

She draws her finger back expectantly, and frowns down at it for a moment before something clicks. Of course! Blood transports every substance in the human body one way or another, and therefore must include hormones. The logical solution would be to study the reactions of human blood to distil it and gain a better understanding of the substance hidden within it.

Ito takes a clean phial and holds it under the running drip of her pricked finger, letting some of the liquid gather enough so she can test it.

Now, she wonders; will blood from other people breed the same results as her own?

“Rachel!” Ito calls out, hurrying down the corridor as she spots the day manager, strolling about. Rachel looks up with a confused squint of her eyes, and then smiles when she clocks Ito’s excitable figure walking towards her.

“Hello Virginia, I trust your day is going well.”

“Why yes, thank you. It quite is; it’s going fairly better because you’re just the person I need right now.”

Ito swears Rachel looks a hint nervous at her words, something red at her cheeks. It’s only faint. “I see. What would you need me for?”

“Can I prick your finger?” Ito asks, without quite thinking it through, far too excited about the breakthrough she’s looking for. If Henry’s previous words are anything to go by, to study the differences between what makes a female and a male, she’d need a sample or two of blood that wasn’t hers. And Rachel had been one of the kindest people to her since she’d arrived. And this really didn’t seem like a crazy request. Nope.

Mmhmm.

Oops.

Rachel gives her a weary look at this, eyes scrunching slightly at the corners. She seems slightly taken aback and yet not too surprised. “You want to prick my finger? For?”

“A blood sample; I’m researching something.” Ito beams, trying not to let embarrassment consume her, though she’s sure her cheeks are burning scarlet.

“Well,” Rachel blinks, and it seems to fall into place, now. Perhaps she was used to this sort of request from the other Lodgers? “I certainly prefer that wording…what are you researching?”

“Change.” Ito replies as easily and steadily as she could. She’s not wrong; it’s what she’d told Henry. But she doesn’t quite want this to escalate like that conversation had- not yet at least. Not from paranoia or anxiety but…she doesn’t know. It’s ok.

“The changes in biological structure.” She finishes, explaining away the blush on her cheeks somewhat proudly. Rachel chuckles softly. “I see. Well, yes, I suppose you can prick my finger.”

Ito gives a nod of thanks. “But Ito, please, next time just ask for a blood sample.”

Virginia blinks owlishly. “Asking someone to prick their finger is so much more fun.”

Rachel rolls her eyes in mock annoyance but there is no real hint of the emotion there.

Ito’s heart flutters at the encounter. With time, she finds that perhaps, she can tell Rachel.

“Henry…” Ito greets her mentor, one morning over a cup of tea, with the sweetest smile she could possibly muster because she’ll be very close to figuring this out and cannot contain her hope. Also, because she loves making Henry confused but unrelated.

Henry lifts an eyebrow in confusion. “Virginia?” He prompts cautiously, placing his teacup back on its saucer. The ceramic clinks against itself. “I have a request.”

“This early in the day?” Henry huffs lightheartedly, “What would you like?”

“Can I prick your finger? For science?” Ito doesn’t give herself time to hesitate, holds up a finger innocently in demonstration and stares Henry down.

He stares back, eyes wide in half suprise, but honestly, what was he expecting? “Pardon me, please rephrase that?”

“I would like a blood sample…for my research.” Ito elaborates, sheepishly shrugging her shoulders and lowering her hands.

“Well,” Henry sighs, his familiar smile making home on his lips. “Certainly an odd way to ask.”

“You and Rachel are no fun.” Ito informs him as he goes back to sipping his tea.

“Yes, yes. You can have a blood sample, Miss Ito.”

Ito is sure she’s spent more time than strictly necessary and healthy in close proximity to her desk, writing out notes and observations, so much so that it’s maybe the early hours of the morning.

Her lab, and herself, right now, are not the prettiest of things they could be; dyes staining the cuffs of her dress shirt- she’ll keep this one for experiments, she supposes; table scattered with filter parchment and observation reports; frantic notes scribbled into her book in hopes of her groundbreaking discovery.

She is right on its door- so much so that she can feel the end of her days dreading her dress, or her hair, or the mirror. It’s at her fingertips now, with distilled blood smeared over pages and dyed to identify the substances.

She’s pinned the chemical structure, the slight differences between female and male. The blurred line in between is tangible. Anything like this is tangible, truly: all she needs is the correct chemicals, varying amounts of carbon and water and phosphates, the make-up of her wants.

What she’s really missing is none of that; just to scrutinise it long enough until all her pieces fall together in the puzzle, slot into a wider picture and give her the right scope.

Bingo.

‘Well,’ She thinks, as it all lines up and the melody flourishes with the final shift in view and recipe. ‘This- change- is who I am.’

Ito smiles. It’s maybe the widest she’d ever smiled. She can’t wait to tell Henry.

#the glass scientists #tgs #the glass scientists fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #tgs henry jekyll #tgs rachel #tgs ito #trans fem character

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sirianasims · 2 months

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I settled into city life surprisingly quickly, especially as I started meeting some of my online friends in real life. Like Samara. We’d known each other online for a while, but hadn’t met in person until I moved to San Myshuno.

We had bonded over sewing. Samara had a channel where she would thrift absolutely terrible clothes and somehow turn them into something fashionable. She wasn’t really into cosplay but she was always up for discussing designs, and she had saved my projects more than once by suggesting a different method or materials. Today, she’d been helping me finish up my Black Shadow costume for GeekCon.

“So how does it look? I mean, I still need the shoes and makeup, obviously.”

“I love it, Julia! Forget the cosplay, you should just wear that coat every day.”

“I’d probably drown in sweat, it’s all PVC. I don’t recommend working with that, it was a nightmare to sew. Although I can’t imagine you come across it a lot in thrift shops.”

“Actually, you’d be surprised at what I find sometimes. But I mostly pick up stuff made from natural fibres like cotton and wool, much easier to change into something wearable. This sweater is an exception, it was a throw blanket when I found it. I wanted to do a matching skirt but I had to scrap half of the blanket due to a… mystery stain.”

“Ew. You’re braver than I am. “

“Fashion requires bravery. But unless you want to wear that coat to lunch, you should go change. My friend Miranda is waiting and she’s dying to meet you.”

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen5 #julia duchelli #samara davies

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strayheartless · 2 months

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Things heard in the Land of Departure Pt. 4:

1 | 2 | 3 | extra

Aqua: Oh please, My mastery credentials are just a scrap of notebook paper that say “can hit orb with giant key,” I am in no way qualified to mediate a fight to the death!

Sora: Hi Terra any advice for your students?

Terra: Give up, it’s safer for everyone involved.

Roxas: Gee thanks…😐

Riku: In times of crisis always remember, if it ain’t your circus you cannot be held responsible for the actions of those monkeys.

Ventus: *staring at the ceiling* please for the love of the gods, I’m begging you with every fibre of my being, just let me sleep!

Roxas: who are you talking to?

Vanitas: *from under the bed* me.

Roxas: THE FUCK?!?!

Xion: todays the day I train without embarrassing myself! *immediately trips and face plants Terras chest*

Vanitas: so you all just… try to murder eachother?

Sora: with boundaries.

Vanitas: murder with boundaries ?

Sora: yeah I heard it as soon as I said it.

Lea: if I can’t see it I didn’t set it on fire.

Kairi: hypothetically, you could use your keyblade as a giant shish kabob!

Riku: hypothetically you could not.

Sora: I don’t suffer from foot in mouth disease, I excel at it!

Isa: I’ve done many things in my life: I’ve been the right hand of a mad man; I’ve mutilated my own face out of loyalty; I’ve tripped headfirst into love the minute I regained a heart; and insulted Squall Leonhart to his face… yet nothing has this far terrified me quite like the 4”11, red headed, ball of female rage I currently have to train with.

Riku: you are a fuck head Roxas! A fuck fuck fuckety fuck head from fuck ville fuckania… and so’s your dad!

Roxas: *mouthing silently* Woooow

Vanitas: I don’t know whether to be impressed that I’m not the most psychotic person here or disturbed…

Ventus: I like having Van here, it means I can exact my revenge outside of the reach of the law!

Terra: how’s it going boys?

Riku: *laying on the floor next to Vanitas* We are barely holding on. The worlds are still in disarray, and we are still crippled by the weight of our past transgressions. If we are left unchecked we will decend once more into the depths of darkness never to return.

Terra: I meant how is cleaning going?

Vanitas: badly

Xion: *to Naminé* we’ve totally nailed sneaking you into training Aqua hasn’t even noticed!

Aqua: *without looking up* I noticed.

Naminé and Xion: fuck.

Sora: Riku said he didn’t love me anymore!😭

Riku: No, I said you couldn’t justifiably knock yourself out with a sleep spell every time you encounter a minor inconvenience…

Lea: on a scale of one to fuck I am a solid “can’t feel my toes”

Kairi: what did we learn?!

Vanitas: that your a fucking lunatic?!?

Kairi: And??

Vanitas: Zehanort didn’t fucking know what he was unleashing on the world!

Isa: I would like to go on record here and say that never in my life have I called someone a cotton headed ninny muggins, but I’m about to!

Roxas: run be over I can take it!

Xion: No! He can’t take it!

Naminé: Aqua I want to be a keyblade wielder

Aqua: And I want a house on destiny islands with a shirtless Terra to fan and feed me grapes!

Naminé: …

Aqua: Oh you were serious?!

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lexicals · 5 months

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I think genuinely I didn't realise just how much warmer wool is than most other fibres (synthetic ones especially) until I started making my own stuff out of it. The wool scarf I made the other day keeps me so much warmer than the acrylic one I made a few years ago, the wool jumper I made this year isn't even very thick (it's only a light dk yarn) but it feels so much warmer now at 5c outside than any of my store-bought acrylic or polyester knitwear. Like admittedly I am a fibrecrafts freak but it's so wild to me that wool garments have fallen so out of fashion, given the amount of fleeces that are just burned or composted every year bc of lack of demand I can't imagine it'd be more expensive than plastic fibres to produce - maybe it's a washability thing, but superwash wool exists..... idk just I wanna grab people and be like wool is such an undervalued material pls try to get yourself wool garments over synthetic fibre ones if you can access/afford it, especially if you live in a colder climate. If you have sensory issues or sensitive skin you can wear a more comfortable shirt underneath, that's what I do and it also means I can wash the shirt and not the wool garment itself unless it really needs it. For warmer climates cotton is more breatheable and keeps you cool, though idk what the environmental/social impact of cotton farming is as much as sheep farming. Cotton socks from egypt are the oldest known knitted objects!! Flax was spun and woven for linen for centuries upon centuries!! Plant fibre usage goes back to prehistory!! This isn't where I intended to take this but this has been a natural fibres propaganda post!!

#wastepaper basket

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inkareds · 1 year

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Cigarettes Out The Window Matt Murdock x Reader

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Cigarettes Out The Window by TV Girl

nav // marvel m.list // ko-fi

✧.* warnings: this story focuses on strong use of cigarettes and overcoming an addiction, also very unedited I wrote this at 1am ✧.* genre: SFW but mature themes ✧.* word count: 3.7k

Notes: This story is lowkey kinda personal to me and I won't go into detail why, but what I will go into detail is DON'T FUCKING SMOKE. IT'S NOT CUTE IT'S NOT COQUETTE, IT'S NOT VINTAGE, IT'S NOT LANA DEL REY, IT'S DANGEROUS AND A STUPID FUCKING DECISION! I regret ever fucking smoking and anyone who does will say they did to.

When the smell of smoke and carbon dioxide starts sticking to your skin more and more, Matt takes notice and starts growing more worried.

Matt got a whiff of it when you walked through the door, a whiff of smoke and carbon dioxide that’s been cleverly covered by the sweet floral scent of jasmine soap and four sprays of that new woody perfume on your cotton shirt. It smelled like the opposite of how sour candy tasted. Where a sour candy would start out sour only for you to get to the sweetness at the end, the smell that hit his nose was sweet the first time only to quickly turn bitter once he analysed closer.

The sheer power it would take to cover the strong scent of a cigarette whose smoke latches itself onto every fibre of your being from your hair to your skin and clothes, made him wonder why you were trying so desperately to hide it. Of course, it wasn’t his business to know why you were trying to hide it, hell, it wasn’t his business at all to question why you were suddenly smoking.

After all, perhaps you have always been a smoker, just took a break for the first couple of months you started working in the firm. It wouldn’t be surprising.

Either way, it wasn’t his business.

But,

He couldn’t help but let it linger in his thoughts when you wandered into his office. He could tell you were smiling by the way you were talking. Matt was acutely aware of how you leaned against his desk to debrief him on the case you independently took. He was also acutely aware of the fact that he was not paying attention to what you were saying, as he was focusing too much on how much your voice was like music to his ears.

“Are you even paying attention, boss?” You teased him, despite having been told multiple times by the other three employees in the entire firm that you didn’t need to call any of them your boss. You noticed it elicits the most entertaining reaction when you did it to Matt.

That was when he finally was forced into reality, noticing how he’s been slowly but unsubtly leaning towards the desk more and more to get closer to you he immediately straightened himself out. Clearing his throat in the process.

“Yeah, sorry, what was that?” His little cough up seemed to catch you by surprise for a moment and Matt quickly realised what he subconsciously did.

He wasn’t supposed to know that you had been smoking and yet his little cough could indicate that his body had smelled the smoke etched into your skin. By instinct you also straightened yourself out, making more distance between you and Matt.

“Yeah so,” As you continue with your speech you couldn’t help but take a breath every time you finished one long string of explanation, wondering to yourself whether or not that five minutes you took in the bathroom this morning to brush your teeth wasn’t enough and that distinct cigarette smell was still in your mouth.

After all, you could still feel the slight burn at the back of your throat from the way you clumsily smoked that cigarette. You were being stupid and thought the front door was opening, afraid that someone would come in, you accidentally took a drag that was a few seconds too long, causing the smoke buildup to burn your throat.

The slight sting was a cruel reminder of your sudden habit that was, unfortunately, coming back.

The next days, Matt didn’t smell any kind of smoke on you, instead he smelled something else. Something stronger, a deep soft cologne. And it seems this time you weren’t trying to hide your scent, as Foggy himself noticed it.

“You smell different today.” Foggy teased, you brushed him off as you tried to do your work, only for Karen to terrorise you just as much as Foggy. “Cologne? Huh. You know, that along with the way there’s smudges of makeup around a very specific area on your neck is ringing some bells.”

The two snickered as they edged you to confess. Matt couldn’t help to stop his work and listen in to the conversation.

“You going to tell us whose the lucky person?” That was when you fully rolled your eyes at them. “It’s no one important okay.” You chuckled.

Foggy and Karen both looked at each other before pretending to give it up. “Alright if you say so, but Matt.” Foggy directed it towards him, “Is it just me or did you also notice that our newest employee here, has been smelling like the same cologne for the past week?”

Hearing the way your heart was practically beating faster and faster along with the rush of heat coming to your face. Matt could tell you didn’t really want to talk about it. Perhaps you wanted to keep your love life a secret, though his heart felt like it was being constrained as of now, he understood why you would want to do so.

After all, you hadn’t been friends with this crowd for very long, and in that short amount of time, you’ve gotten very close. Despite this, it would make sense why you wanted to keep certain aspects of your life a secret.

So, after a short pause, Matt shrugged, hoping the fact that there was one person in the office who wasn’t actively trying to push you to talk about it would ease some of your tension. “I haven’t noticed much change.”

By the way, you exhaled a sigh of relief, he could tell it worked. But it seemed Foggy and Karen were less attuned to how you were feeling.

“Lucky guy or lucky girl?” Karen edged. “It’s- It’s really nothing guys. My boyfriend and I were just long distance for a while and he’s come to visit me, that’s all.”

Foggy and Karen shared a look of knowing with one another before both finally dropped the subject. The day went on much better, except for the fact that Matt could sense the tension that wouldn’t leave you alone the rest of the entire day.

The next week went by in a similar manner, he didn’t smell any smoke on you and instead that cologne would stick to you.

To be quite frank, he didn’t know which one was a worse scent to be greeted with. The smell of another man on you, making it very clear to Matt that you were off limits, or the smell of cigarettes, a mark on how you’re killing your body consciously.

Either way, one new thing that he noticed was how much more lethargic you were slowly becoming. How your irritation seemed to grow by the day.

But, it wasn’t his business.

He was simply your co-worker who had no business in your personal or love life. And if he wants to rid of his feelings for you he must keep that distance.

Even if it aches him inside every time he can’t just step in and ask you what’s wrong.

It isn’t his business.

But then one day, one funny day when both Foggy and Karen got the flu, you came in smelling much stronger of smoke.

It was still clear that you were trying to hide it, the way he could tell you tried to scrub your skin clean from the smoke and how painful your teeth must be from the harshness of your teeth brushing. Or the way you tried to layer so many spritzes of perfume it was almost headache-inducing.

But it was still there, strong and unrelenting.

It wasn’t his business. He tried to remind himself.

He couldn’t help but make it his business when he heard you talk on the phone with a client. Your voice was so audibly raw and slightly nasally that it worried him. It was as if you had been screaming and crying all night. The average person would be able to rule it out to a fun night with your partner after a long-distance relationship.

Yet, Matt Murdock was not the average person, and with the way you practically cowered when the client slightly raised his voice at you or how you were extra obedient with everything. Trying to be more quiet than usual today, he was worried.

But, it wasn’t his business. He needed to create the distance.

That all came crashing down when one night as he was out daredevilling, something inside of him told him to go back to the firm. He tried to ignore it at first, knowing there were more crime-ridden areas in Hell’s Kitchen that needed his help, but for some reason, his instinct kept pulling him there.

Something loud in his ears was telling him he needed to rescue something there that meant more to him than anything else right now.

Finally, he caved in. As he perched himself on the rooftop of his firm, Matt listened closely.

What was it that needed his attention so much here, there’s nothing going on. Not even a petty robbery-

Then he heard it.

The soft sniffs and hiccups. The strong smell of cigarettes. The salty taste of tears in the air. Someone was crying inside the office.

That someone was you.

At that moment, he used every one of his senses to close in towards you. He wished he could just waltz in using his daredevil suit and hug you, but he hasn’t told you and wasn’t planning to. He can’t just do that.

But as he listened in for a longer period of time, he noticed you’d finished one cigarette and started to light another one. Your hands were shaking as you lit the fresh stick. Your hair stuck against your face as you cried more and more. The cold ground felt like a wake-up call towards your pathetic state, one you chose to ignore.

He heard the way your cries began to become more and more exasperated. As if you’re waiting for something to happen, anything at all, anything that could bring you back to earth, bring you back to the ground. Whether that thing was just running out of cigarettes to smoke, or accidentally lighting your hair on fire. Matt couldn’t take it anymore.

He decided that he would change out of his suit in his apartment and come back. If you were still in such a state when he came back, he’ll take it as a sign to make it his business. If you weren’t, he’ll pretend nothing happened.

And would you look at that, just as he snuck back into his side of the office, you were still there. On your third stick this time. At this rate, he was quickly getting more and more worried for your health. How was it you could burn through this many cigarettes in such a small amount of time?

“Hello?” He called out from his office, pretending to have fallen asleep while working and now was waken up by the noise.

He heard you immediately shuffle in panic, trying your hardest to throw away every and any evidence of you smoking in the office. In the confusion, you had accidentally burned yourself from the ash of your cigarette.

“Shit!” That was the wake-up call you needed. The pain felt addictive. The same way that the burn on your tongue and lips was.

It felt as though you deserved it.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Matt, realising the mental state you were in, quickly rushed over towards you. Ignoring the way his throat and nose burned at the amount of smoke in the air that was made worst by his senses.

The embarrassment crept over you in such quick succession that you couldn’t even fathom what was happening. Your hands were quick to cover your tear-stained face as Matt got closer.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t know you were such a workaholic.” A bold-faced lie that you tried to turn into a joke. Something to lighten the atmosphere, something to take the attention away from you. Something to stop the most attractive man you’ve ever seen ‘looking’ at you with what you suspected to be disgust.

But when he pulled you in his embrace, that’s when everything shattered. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even ask why you were smoking, and didn’t even reprimand you for smoking within the office. All he did was hold you close towards him and let you cry. So you did, you cried and cried into his chest.

You knew the smell of cigarettes was probably sticking to his suit and a part of you tried desperately to push him away. But Matt, oddly strong, held you close against him. Unrelenting in the way you refused to let him see you in such a disgraceful manner.

Though, as you slowly calmed down, you slowly sank to the ground. The cold flooring brought you back to real life and Matt followed you down.

The tears at this point have stopped. But the disgust and embarrassment at yourself only grew. The resentment of your own state grew within your heart. One Matt could sense.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He whispered.

Truth be told, Matt didn’t expect you to say anything that day. Nothing at all, after all, you were much closer to Karen and Foggy than you were with him. With, him needing to make space between the two of you, things going on.

But that night, you spilt everything you had to him on a silver platter. Simply waiting for him to burn it all to bits. To call you disgusting, to call you a disgusting reflection of the firm and fire you. But Matt didn’t. He listened.

That night, Matt listened to everything you gave him.

Every hard truth, every harsh reality, every smoke-filled detail of your past. He swallowed it.

That night, you confessed everything to the man who could easily rip you of your source of income. You told him about your addiction towards cigarettes when you were younger and were easily influenced by other people. How you stopped after you met the man you thought you were going to marry.

You expressed to Matt how in love you were a few years ago, but when he wanted to work on his masters and you moved to Hell’s Kitchen to work with the infamous Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson. The two of you had to go long distance, something that put quite a rift in your relationship.

Especially because of his lack of trust towards you. He hated cigarettes, hated everything and anyone that came in contact with it. And he didn’t trust you weren’t using this opportunity to go right back to your addiction.

The stress of it all would only double when right before he would arrive at Hell’s Kitchen he called you telling you he’s going to turn your apartment upside down to try and find any cigarettes.

The anxiety and shame of not being trusted by the man you wanted to spend your entire life with were sobering. Something you didn’t want to feel, and so, that day was the first time after 3 years of being clean that you smoked.

That was the day he first smelled smoke sticking to your skin, though he didn’t say it out loud.

The second time was right after you had an argument with him, he had called you a liar and a disgusting addict when he found an ashtray with some ash in it on your fire escape. You refused to admit that it was yours and he had blown up in your face. Leading to a night of screaming and crying.

All of it would come to its climax when he found a box of cigarettes under the bed just hours before Matt found you crying in the office.

The screaming and the arguments that ensued went past simply worrying for your health and divulged into insulting your very being. The words tasted much more bitter against your tongue than your cigarette as you repeated what he said to you to Matt. The way he insulted the way you were brought up, the way he insulted your less fortunate childhood, the way he insulted your commitment to the relationship.

As if it wasn’t his distrust and insults that first caused you to break your clean streak.

That night, your boyfriend, turned into an ex-boyfriend as he left the apartment with his suitcase packed. Insults streamed from his mouth like water in a river all the way as he left.

Matt clenched his fists that night as he heard the way your ex-boyfriend treated you.

But that night, his anger would have to be calmed, as you were more important.

That night, he took the box of cigarettes from your hand and promptly threw it away. That night, he opened the window and talked to you. All night long, he took it as a mission to save your heart. It was worth more than the people he could save as daredevil anyways.

“This is really good champagne.” You hummed at Matt as he chuckled at your bright smile from tasting the bubbly alcohol.

“Oh definitely, I’m not surprised though. The host is loaded.” Foggy next to you mentioned. “It’s getting pretty stuffy though,” Karen remarked.

Something the three of you could agree on.

Ever since that night, Matt had helped you stay clean. And ever since that night, Matt showed you how someone that truly loved you could never see you in a disgusted manner only because of your little problem.

He showed you what love could do. And he showed you what you deserved.

So, as you linked your arm with Matt’s you spoke, “Wanna take a breather outside?” It didn’t take long before all of you were on the patio of the host’s home.

All four of you were invited to a charity gala that was aimed to bring money to Hell’s Kitchen, being lawyers who defended Hell’s Kitchen’s poorest and ones that have gained quite the reputation. The four of you were placed at the top of the guest list.

As Foggy and Karen wandered somewhere in the garden, Matt spoke to you. “How you feeling?”

“Good actually, I’ve never been around this many rich and glamorous people. It’s making me slightly anxious to mess up.”

Matt smiled at your tendency to overthink at what people would think of you, no doubt caused by the residual effects of your ex-boyfriend’s distrust towards your actions.

“Don’t worry about it, everyone we’ve talked to likes you. I would know.” He nudged your side. “Yeah, like how you know I smoked that day?” You rolled your eyes at the memory of finding out that Matt had been acutely aware of your smoking habits even before your breakdown in the office that night.

“I’m still really awed by your ‘powers,’ you ever going to join the Avengers, boss?” You teased him. Something that has only become more and more relentless after he showed his secret other life to you.

“You are so annoying.” he joked, “Yeah, but you love me.”

“I do love-”

“Shit, I didn’t realise anyone was here! Sorry about that, I was just going out for a smoke.” From behind the patio entrance, a guest came out with her beautiful outfit and leaned on the bannister.

From her purse, she took out a cigarette before lighting it on her lips. Your eyes stared straight at her gloved hands. You hadn’t touched or seen a cigarette in almost a year now. But now coming in such close contact with it, your hand began to shake.

“Oh sorry, I forgot,” Matt sighed in relief when the woman seemed to realise she forgot to ask the two people there if they minded her smoking. Something he would quickly answer in a polite manner that they do mind. But instead, she said something he desperately wished she didn’t.

“I forgot to offer you any, would you like one?” His heart stopped in his chest.

In a single moment, everything focused towards you. The way your grasp tightened on his arm, the way you placed your other hand on the bannister to not make it obvious that it was clearly shaking.

Time seemed to stop for a moment, here a decorated woman stood, offering you, a newly clean addict, a cigarette. It must be one of those expensive ones, the ones that don’t leave a bitter residue on your tongue. The one that almost has a sweet taste by the end of the stick. You wondered how it would taste.

You missed the warmth some days. Missed the way it would fill your body with regret but relief. So many good memories of your teenage years were filled with the smell and warmth of smoke. It wouldn’t hurt to just accept one.

After all, this could be a bonding moment between you and a very rich woman. Someone that would increase the status of the office and would make your connections grow.

Deep inside, you know these were all just excuses you were trying to make so that it would justify your choice of taking the cigarette.

But, “No thank you, I don’t smoke.” The woman nodded and went back to looking out to the garden whilst smoking.

Perhaps the smoke once did fill your body with regret and relief, not to mention all the warmth. But now, you had Matt to make you feel warm late at night when the cold and chill of Hell’s Kitchen would bite your skin. His warm body against yours felt better than any regret that would be brought by smoke.

And perhaps many good memories from your teenage days were filled with cigarettes and bad decisions. But now you had the opportunity to make more good memories with people with the best intentions. If you kept poisoning your body, you wouldn’t be able to be in the midst of rich people feeling happily out of place with your amazing superhero partner.

And as Matt led you back in towards the gala, he held your body much closer against his this time. Holding both your hands from behind you, feeling the cold sweat from your skin. When he leaned down to speak those words to you, you’ve never felt happier for your strength and restraint.

“I wouldn’t have been mad if you taken up the offer, but,” he paused.

“I’m glad that you didn’t. I’m proud of you.”

Please don't smoke, it's not even that good.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil x reader #daredevil #mcu #charlie cox #matt murdock x you #daredevil x you #matt murdock fluff

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whatudowhennooneseesyou · 2 years

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Mommytober 2022 Series-'Precious Little Star'

Day 1: Comfort Sex w Mommy!Seonghwa (Ateez)

Dom Seonghwa+ Sub!fem reader

Disclaimer: This is pure filth & does not represent Park Seonghwa accurately in any manner.

18+ Only

This is my fav day to write b/c y'all know how much I love Mommy!Seonghwa & I am going to try & not make this a whole novella!

Party inspired by @hongism Kinktober fic from 2021, the very first Mommy Seonghwa fic I've read that started my love for this fantasy.

Content Includes: Mommy!Seonghwa, slight angst?, nightmares, desperate & needy reader, praise, fluff, anxiety, honestly it's just love-making.

'S-Seonghwa??' You whispered.

'Mmm?' A deep hum vibrated from his chest, his eyes opening and blinking a few times to led the fog of sleep clear.

'I had a nightmare' your voice choked out, tears pooling in your eyes, a sheen of anxiety coating your skin.

Seonghwa immediately pulled you closer to him, 'I'm so sorry baby, come here my love' as he wrapped his arms around you, one tangled in your hair, the other gripped around your back.

'Try and go back to sleep my love, Mommy's here' He whispered into your ear, the heartbeat in his chest already calming down the ropes of tension that were bound across your chest.

It wasn't enough, you needed more.

Soft, hasty kisses were being placed across his neck as you breathed his scent in, your hips slowly grinding into him, fingers tugging at his cotton t-shirt.

'Mommy, please, please I need you' you panted in his ear, voice quivering from how desperate you were as you slid your hands under his shirt & rubbed his chest.

Seongwha let out a moan as his brain starting to put two & two together & you could feel his hardness against you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him more so you were pressed tight & he grinded his hips against yours.

'You need Mommy's cock don't you? Do you need it so badly you're willing to wake me up for it?' His eyes darkened with lust, a smirk across his face. He loved it when you were needy like this, so desperate to please, so desperate for his touch.

He was just as gone as you, except he hid it with teasing & self-control.

You clutched your fingers to his hair, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, asking for permission.

His fingers tilted your chin up, 'you didn't answer my question' the tone was soft but a warning, you could hear the edge behind it, your heart speeding up but for an entirely reason.

'I-I want your cock inside of me. I need it. Please, please Mommy, I want it so much' you whined & pleaded, nothing felt better than when Seonghwa fucked his love into you.

'Lie back for me sweetheart' he responded as he cupped your face, a small nod & a warm smile indicating you were going to get what you desired.

Clothes were strewn everywhere, barely remembering the frenzy of removing everything, all you could remember was him chuckling as you removed his shirt & pulled his pants down.

He would never tell you but these moments where he could feel the ache, your love & your desire radiating from every fibre of your body.

It was better than the air he breathed.

Seonghwa settled on top of you, your legs already wrapped around his waist, your head buried in his chest, fingernails digging into his back as you held him skin to skin, you wanted him to suffocate you with his love & care.

His hand stroking your hair, the other placed beside your head to hold himself up. You could see the love in his eyes, the comfort, his care radiating from the warmth of his skin.

A soft kiss placed upon your lips, a few pecks led to fervent need, his tongue swiping & licking around the roof of your mouth, his hard cock so close to filling you.

His hand softly, slowly, almost teasingly trailed down your body, finger pads dipping through the middle of your chest, over your belly button & swiping through your folds, the squelch of how wet you are resounding through the room.

'Oh look at you, already so wet for me and I've barely even touched you' Eyebrow raised, voice husky with sleep, a glint of humour in his face.

You shook your head feverishly 'P-please, just fuck me, fill me up, cum in me' your voice & body trembling from how badly you desired this, you surely would die if he wasn't inside of you within the next minute.

His thumb stroked your cheek, eyes filled with love, a chaste but loving kiss pressed to your mouth.

'Shh, it's okay, Mommy always spoils you don't I? he cooed, planting sloppy kisses on your collarbones to distract you as he rubbed slow circles across your clit.

Once he felt you were ready, he held himself up as he reached down to guide his cock into you, eyes pouring love and desire into yours.

A breathy hiss rumbled from his throat as he bottomed out,

'Fuck you're such a good girl for Mommy, always so tight and wet for me.'

A loud moan of surprise echoed in the room, you clutched onto his shoulders as you felt the stretch, you could feel his kisses on your nose, cheeks & forehead as he waited for you to adjust, knowing it would take a little bit more time as he entered you with little prep & all the way in.

'Mmmh, please move' you whispered, a gasp leaving your throat as he slowly moved in & out of you, his thrusts slow & languid.

You loved how special you felt when Seonghwa made love to you.

But tonight wasn't one of those nights.

Tonight you needed Mommy to fuck the pain away.

You didn't want to think, you didn't want to remember, you just wanted to feel the stretch and the heat of his cock thrusting the memory of the nightmare out of you.

You pulled his hips towards you more, rutting against him, trying to coax him inside of you more. Mewls, whines & whimpers of 'please' spoken into his chest.

Seonghwa pulled away from you, grabbed both of your hands & pinned them beside your head, a warning glare in his eyes.

'You're not being a good girl right now sweetheart, don't you want Mommy to make you feel better?' His tone was loving but you knew he was being serious.

Your bottom lip quivered, were you being too much? Your eyes becoming glassy, 'I..I'm sorry'.

Seonghwa's eyes immediately changed, brow furrowed in concerned as he immediately leaned down to kiss you, his lips breathing reassurance into you, his thumb stroking the side of your wrist.

'You're not in trouble sweetheart, I want you to relax. Just let me lead okay?'

You nodded, you took a deep breath as you loosened your ankles around his hips, the tension slowly dissipating.

Once he could feel you had settled, he slowly resumed his pace, removing his hands from your wrists & framed his elbows around your face, one supporting him, the other rubbing the side of your waist.

Soft kisses were placed on your jawline, his head buried in your neck, lips pressed against the shell of your ear.

My precious little star, mmmh? Let Mommy take care of you, let me fuck the fear away. '

Taglist: @seungminluv3 @hongthoven @8tinytings @iliana26 @mischiefsmind @vernon-s-whore @smiley-sheep @honeyhotteoks

Please comment and reblog! I hope you all enjoyed the first day.

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa #kinktober 2022 #park seonghwa scenarios #park seonghwa x reader #mommy!seonghwa #ateez drabbles #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #i cried writing this #I just want to experience this so badly #everyone needs to hop on the mommy!Seonghwa bandwagon #i love this so much #kpop kinktober #mommytober 2022

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silhouette-cosplay · 1 year

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✨Galadriel’s Robe, aka dyeing silk velvet is the worst✨

This was by far the most frustrating stage of this build!

I ordered velvet and dye from Dharma Trading Co, and they recommend their fibre reactive dyes as silk velvet is actually silk backing/rayon pile (which is standard these days). Fibre reactive dyes are best for plant-based fibres (cotton/linen/rayon etc). HOWEVER. You also use a dye fixative with these dyes, usually larger amounts for deep dark colours, which I needed. Guess what? I found out a little too late that this dye fixative eats protein fibres, which means every time I did a dye bath for this velvet, the silk (protein) backing was being weakened. Eventually the fabric actually started ripping along the cross grain because it was so weak 😅, so I ended up with two lengths instead of one, which made for interesting piecing of the robe later.

I’m taking it as a learning experience! I wish there had been some mention of this in the dye instructions for the velvet, but it is what it is and I was able to make it work in the end. Now I know. 😜 If I ever try dyeing silk velvet again, I may go for an all-purpose dye and see if that fares any better.

I think it’s important to share our setbacks as well as our successes! Messing up is part of the learning process, and things often go much less smoothly in real life than they appear on social media. 🙂

#wip: galadriel lindon gown #rings of power #the rings of power #tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #galadriel #galadriel cosplay #morfydd clarke

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atlascripts · 2 years

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Warnings: None

just more domestic fluffy hours with Toji

Toji's sweet sweet nap was broken by a soft poke on his cheek by something foreign. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, squinting over to see the little black runt you had recently adopted. A black kitten looked back at Toji with adorable golden eyes, expecting him to give him scritches and even perhaps refill his (not so empty) bowl. "Where's yer mum furball?" He asked, finally getting up, the golden sun rays shone, casting a lovely glow to your cute little apartment. It wasn't anything like Toji would have kept but he loved everything with every fibre of his being. For everything was a reflection of your existence and this little space had become his home away from home.

He heard you pad out of the room while on call, you seemed so into it, discussing some new project. You noticed he was awake and instinctively tiptoed to steal a kiss while smiling and went back about your work. Toji was dazed if he was honest, how come such a small gesture made him feel like he was a little boy again. You put your phone away then while you went about and made coffee, two mugs, yours and Toji's and he just watched on as he picked up the little kitten in his arms. The little thing fit in his palms so easily and as much as he denied, Toji cared for the little thing as well.

He put the kitten down and you felt Toji sneak his arms around you burying his face in the crook of your neck. You only gave him soft kisses on the side of his face smiling like a silly person. Your little fuzzy friend mewled around your feet and you eventually picked it up and Toji groaned. "Can't believe I gotta share you with him now." The kitten only headbutted lovingly, making Toji smile softly. "Hold him while I get our mugs." You handed the critter to Toji again and he watched you go about your day. Your sundress flowed about, the hem perfectly flowing at the mid of your calf, the soft cotton fabric hugged your silhouette in all the right ways. It did things to him but at the same time he wanted to keep watching for as long as he could. As you handed him his mug you noticed him staring and asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?" The man's cheeks went a soft pink and he mumbled, "S'rry." It only made you giggle at how cute he could be and you voiced it. "Cute." The man scoffed and made you laugh heartily, "I am not cute woman." You only laughed away and he couldn't help but feel embarrassed, "From what angle do I look cute to you kid?" He inquired about following you to your little study, the kitty pattering behind too. "You just are sometimes." You insisted as you got to your work station and Toji just made himself comfy on the couch picking up the book he had put down. "Have you seen my glasses hun?" he asked and you got up and handed them to him from the shelf you always kept them on. But he teasingly pulled you in his lap making you yelp. "Toji!!! I need to work." You protested but he wouldn't let you go and you eventually stopped resisting and flopped in his embrace. There was soft silence that was shared until you spoke. "You're making me sleepy Toji and I have work." You looked up from where you lay your head and pouted he couldn't help but sit you both up so he could kiss you. It was one of those moments where he felt like he might not live another day and he needed to tell you that he loves you, needed to feel your kiss one last time if it may be. When he broke the kiss you softly whispered, "I love you so much." Toji smiled…he smiled a soft smile you rarely got to see and you almost wanted time to stop so you could memorize this moment. "I love you too hun." he replied just as softly giving one more soft kiss on your temples. "You can nap on me it's alright, I'll wake you in a bit." He spoke then breaking the trance and put on his reading glasses. "Besides your little friend is napping on your work chair now." He chuckled and you looked over to see the little kitten snoozing on your computer chair.

You took this as cue to take a nap but twenty mins later when Toji tried to wake you, he noticed you were in a deep sleep and waking you for work wouldn't be fair. You stirred awake anyway when he tried to get you up. You were rubbing your eyes and confused about what time it was but he simply closed the lights of the study and led you back to the bedroom. You curled up in bed immediately and he fixed the covers over you letting you get your rest. But as he was walking out the room he heard you call out, "Don't leave me alone in the room..you know I get scared." He rolled his eyes at your excuses, "Well you need to stop watching all those horror flicks missy." His tone was that of a scolding one but he did come back to the bedroom sitting on the sofa by the bedside going through some work mail. The little kitten came meowing inside and seated itself as a loaf by the foot of your bed just wanting to be felt included.

Toji always hated going through his work mail when he visited you. It always was a grim reminder of his gruesome job and the blood money he earned, at least while he was around you he wanted to feel like a normal person, as if he was just a regular husband to his wifey. He caressed your face with the back of his hand gently. He had to leave soon and he hated it. He would take off his wedding band and keep it in his drawer for until he came back…he didn't want anyone knowing he had a weakness. He could pretend how his love for you was his greatest strength but it was also a deadly weakness he never voiced. A fear he kept locked away in his heart because he didn't want to live every waking hour thinking about it, instead he focused on how much he had come to love you, to live every moment with you to the fullest. And he leaned down to kiss you once again.

#toji fushiguro #toji #toji fluff #soft hours #domestic au

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garaksapprentice · 4 months

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In search of compostable clothing closures

Making clothes that are 97% biodegradable is surprisingly easy. Pick a natural fibre fabric, buy some 100% cotton or linen thread, and you're there. (You can even get 100% cotton overlocker thread - though you have to go searching for it.)

Those last few percent, though? That can be tough. One of the biggest offenders is closures. While there are plenty of clothes that don't need something to hold them shut, I confess I like having the option. Below is a round-up of various closures, and their compostability.

Note: for the purpose of this article, I'm treating metal closures as "compostable", in the sense that they're 1) easy to remove before you compost the rest of the object, and 2) infinitely reusable on other things, unless they break - at which point they're usually recyclable using our current commercial systems. And remember, re-using things that already exist is always preferable to buying new, "better" items.

Buckles/Rings

While less common than other closure methods, I find buckles, D-rings and O-rings are great when used in the right context. They're usually metal or plastic, neither of which are compostable - but metal will last practically forever, if it's good quality. Plastic tends to degrade over time, especially if exposed to the sun.

I find rings especially quick and easy to use, and a set of D-rings can give a very fine-tuned amount of tightening. My favourite belt uses two square D-rings instead of a buckle closure.

Buttons

The humble button, while ubiquitous now, took a while to catch on. Buttons as a common method of closure didn't become popular in Europe* until about the early 1300s, around the same time that the tailoring revolution[^] happened.

Nowadays, plastic is by far the most common material that buttons are made from. It's cheap and sturdy, but obviously it doesn't compost. So what are some alternatives?

Liz Haywood, a pattern maker who focuses on zero-waste designs, has thought a bit about this conundrum here. There's photos of several different DIY compostable and recycled buttons in her post.

For a completely compostable garment, wood, leather, horn, fabric, and thread buttons are your best bet. If, like most sensible people, you remove the buttons from something that's about to be worm food before you ditch it, the options expand considerably - metal, clay, recycled bottle caps, even glass buttons are all possible. You can have a lot of fun with making your own buttons - to match an outfit, or contrast with it, or maybe you'd like a different button for every buttonhole...

Another, related option is cufflinks - 18th century shirts often used cufflinks on the sleeves and one or two small thread buttons on the collar. That way one set of cufflinks could be used on multiple shirts, showing off a bit of wealth, while saving them from the (admittedly harsh) laundry practices of the day.

[*]: I have no doubt that buttons became popular in other parts of the world, too, but unfortunately I don't know much about it. Europe in the 14-15th century is my main area of study, mostly due to the fact that the historical re-enactment group that I'm a part of operates in that time period.

[^]: The tailoring revolution refers to the period where garments for the higher classes underwent a dramatic change in the way they were cut out. The very short version is, fashion garments shifted from primarily rectangular construction to more form-fitting, using the precursors of many standard cutting practices used today.

Elastic

While elastic isn't technically a closure, it's used that way in many different objects. Most elastic nowadays is made from polyester and synthetic rubber. No composting there.

But, all is not lost! You can now find elastics made of natural rubber and cotton! (I was quite impressed by this, to be honest. I thought I'd have to give up elastic for good.)

The downside, as is usual when you actually give a crap about the planet, is cost. You'll mostly only find it for sale online (Etsy has several options), and it can be more expensive (especially factoring in shipping). Prices on the compostable elastics I found were comparable to a mid-range polyester elastic at Spotlight (before shipping). I think that's actually pretty good, all things considered. (I don't trust the cheapest elastic, it loses its stretch ridiculously fast. A fact I discovered to my sorrow only after buying a 20m roll of it.)

As a bonus, supposedly natural rubber elastic lasts longer than synthetic elastics - this has been my experience with many natural vs synthetic things, but I haven't tested natural elastic specifically to know for sure.

The biggest downside here is the rubber - if you're dealing with a latex allergy, this is not the solution for you.

Hooks and Eyes

While these have fallen out of favour over the years, they do have their uses in a compostable closet. They're easy to buy, and easy to make if you can get hold of the wire - all you need is a set of needle-nose pliers.

Being metal, the hook/eye can be re-used until it breaks - which takes a while. Like buttons, they're easy to take off a garment and move to another one. Unlike buttons, they don't need a buttonhole - you can move both the hook and eye almost anywhere on a garment, really refining the fit of an item.

They are, however, somewhat limited in that application - hooks and eyes work best if they're under a small but constant amount of tension, pulling in opposite directions. I once tried to use hooks and eyes on a loose-fitting medieval tunic, and it just didn't work.

Laces and Ties

Before buttons became The Big Thing in medieval Europe (and for quite a few centuries after), laces and ties were the closure method du jour. Why did they stick around so long? The same reason pyjama pants often have a drawstring in them - they add adjustability to garments in a simple and easy to use (and create!) way. Stays and corsets are one of the most recognisable examples of this concept in action.

Lacing does work better on some things than others, but just about anywhere that you'd put elastic nowadays can likely use a drawstring instead. And there are some patterns (YouTube link) for adjustable garments that use lacing as an integral part of the design.

The main downside for me? They can be slow to use, and awkward, if you have difficulty with fine motor control. Mine is variable enough that I'll usually opt for a different closure, unless lacing or ties really is the best or only option.

Snaps

Confession: I adore snaps. They're fast and easy to use when my hands don't want to co-operate, and they can be wonderfully decorative as well as functional.

There are two general types - those you sew into place like you sew on hooks and eyes, and ones that are applied to the fabric using a press. The former takes more time to install, but can be replaced relatively easily if they stop working. The latter can technically be replaced, but it's a LOT harder and you risk damaging the fabric behind it while you try. They're also more likely to rip out of the fabric in the first place.

As for material, it's pretty much just metal and plastic (sometimes a combination). From a sustainability standpoint, metal is the better option - as long as you recycle it at the end of its life.

Zips

Zips are everywhere nowadays. They're easy to use, but can be hard to replace when they break. Putting them in correctly isn't always a cake-walk either. And in terms of compostability, the answer is definitely "no".

The vast majority of zippers on the market use a polyester or poly-cotton tape, with plastic or metal teeth set into it, and plastic or metal tabs and pulls. Because of the mix of materials, and the size of a typical zip, most municipal waste streams can't take them for recycling. However, textile recyclers` such as Upparel usually take zips (and the things they're attached to!).

I also found a couple of different manufacturers creating zips out of post-consumer recycled materials - a pleasant surprise, and a strong move towards closing waste streams.

[`]: Clothing retailers are increasingly taking responsibility for their part in reducing waste by offering recycling programs through their stores. Recycling Near You and Frankie list some of the major programs in Australia, though it's worth noting that most of those listed only want whole textiles or large pieces - to my knowledge, Upparel is the only place that will take scraps, broken textiles, and related.

If I've missed a closure type, or you know of places selling compostable or truly recyclable versions of any of the above, I would love to hear about it. While I'm (currently) a far less prolific sewist than the blog name implies, I want to be deliberate and thoughtful in my sewing choices going forward.

Also, as a last random thought, I wonder if anyone has started making bioplastic versions of any of the above? *Wanders off to do some research...*

Originally published at my blog: https://garaksapprentice.blogspot.com/2023/09/in-search-of-compostable-closures.html

#sewing #produce no waste #use and value renewable resources

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milkywaybottles · 2 years

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The Way Things Were | Tommy Shelby x Reader

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: I have decided to start putting pictures at the top of these posts again to help set the scene! I have also changed the timeline just a smidge so that the family finds out Grace betrayed them sooner (roughly a day sooner) to make the plot run smoother xx

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Chapter 10: You’re a fool, Tommy Shelby.

Word Count: 2.2k

It had been the loveliest day for a walk, and on your lunch break, you had posed the idea to Finn to get a breath of fresh air. Being a giddy young boy, he jumped at the idea, leaving you rather pleased with yourself as you both stepped out of the shop. A gust of cool air swept past you both, lifting your hair into the air as Finn let out a boyish laugh. A blush rose to the tip of your nose and ears.

"Hey!" you called playfully, watching as his hair was swept over his wide eyes. Already, you felt your mood lighten from the dreary and smoke-ridden atmosphere of the shop. The boy trodded alongside you, occasionally kicking up small pebbles with his shoes.

With no clear location in mind, you continuously walked until coming across a clearing that housed a garden. Finn had leapt towards the moulded concrete architecture in the centre of the hedges, which had been shaped as a circle. He planted his bottom on the seat and began to kick his legs before jumping off just as quickly as he had sat down. You stared at the boy curiously,

"What was that for?"

"Bored" he stated in a matter-of-a-fact way, "Besides, I'd rather explore"

You couldn't argue with that but reminded yourself you were his caretaker, and that you would be devastated if anything were to happen to him, "You can have five minutes to go run around, but don't go too far, eh? Gotta come back in one piece". He nodded instantly, taking off down a passage lined with roses and disappearing like an ant in the distance. Sighing, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your coat and rested your weight onto one foot.

Perhaps the sun had decided to retreat behind the clouds, but you shivered, feeling a chill in your bones. Leaves gathered at your feet, fluttering like a butterfly in the breeze. You licked your lips, running your tongue over every stinging crack as you stared out into the garden.

You could never paint yourself as a particularly jealous person, but again, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something terribly wrong with Grace. She was too perfect for your liking. Every single woman you knew was strong and independent to some extent, flawed beyond belief, but filled with so many likable characteristics. But instead, when presented with Grace, your face always turned into a scowl. The woman had no fibre of being, no outstanding personality traits other than being 'Thomas Shelby's personal slave', which irked you to no end.

You had known her for a while now and she had not revealed a single part of herself, which she would have done by now if she wasn't intentionally withholding information.

Safe to say, you were either extremely jealous of her encroaching on and threatening your relationship with Tommy, or suspicious, or both. And you were mature enough to admit that perhaps you were jealous that your best friend had been snatched out from under you.

You would ask him time after time, "Do you want to stay for dinner after work? Polly's cooking" or something along the lines which involved him spending time with you, always to be met with the same reaction; that he was busy, or that he was going for a drink at the Garrison. You knew all too well what that meant, and eventually, you just stopped bothering altogether.

You were drawn from your deep and swirling thoughts at the sound of breathless laughter, eyes drawn to Finn nearing you. At the sight of his broad smile, you couldn't help but simper as you placed a supporting hand on his dark, cotton jacket and readjusted his cap.

"Better be gettin' back before anyone notices we're gone" you concluded, preparing for protest. But Finn only nodded understandably.

That was when you saw it.

At first, your mind couldn't comprehend the sheer familiarity of the figures, blinking back your surprise. Your jaw hung on the floor as your eyes focused on two people talking at the seating, where just moments ago, you and Finn stood. The shorter one, blonde hair pooling at the sides of her head, was wearing a dark jacket, a blue knitted scarf and a floral sapphire-coloured hat. The other person's head was adorned with a bowl hat, covered entirely in a black coat and wearing leather gloves.

Grace and Inspector Campbell.

Together.

Talking, with his hand on the small of her back.

Part of you wanted to scream with joy, to approach her and laugh, pointing as you shouted to the heavens that you knew it. But the other part of you burned with anger, your veins boiling hot as your hands clenched onto Finn's shoulder. "Ow!" he exclaimed, pulling away from you like he had touched a hot iron. Your attention snapped to the boy, face softening sympathetically,

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it"

His hand found his shoulder and began to rub circles on it.

You needed to tell someone fast.

Your eyes flickered to the sky, clear as day, painted with pillowy clouds.

Grumbling, you turned to the youngest Shelby, "It looks like it's going to rain" and broke out into a fast pace in the opposite direction. Finn was still for a second as his brain processed the lie he had been fed, then gazed at the sky with a raised lip and scrunched nose.

"Huh?" to be met with no response. Determining it was better to follow you than be left alone and to ask questions, the boy trailed quickly behind you. During the trip back to the store, Finn stumbled over your feet multiple times in an attempt to keep up with you, causing your toes to sting with numbing hot pain.

This didn't bother you as it was the last thing on your mind while you bumbled into the store, exhausted child at your side. Scanning for any sight of a family member, you were left unsuccessful. Frowning, you looked again and only saw workers. "Please go find your brother for me, eh?" you told Finn rather softly, contrary to your previously abrasive behaviour. As he sprinted down the hall, your thoughts wandered.

If Grace was really feeding information to the inspector...

You shuddered at the implications.

It didn't help in the slightest that today was race day, and the shop was filled to the brim once again with eager, greedy customers. There was not a single patch of open space, leather oxford shoes packed together, followed by their owners.

"Lovelock!" you burst, catching sight of the tall man making his way across to one of the main tables, "Where's Tom?"

In the pure chaos, Lovelock was unable to answer before Polly found her way through the door, eyes landing on you. She appeared to shout something, but alas you couldn't make it out, even in your desperation, from the mess of voices. As she approached, your hands pulled on each other with anxiety until she was by your side.

“What’s he done now?” She questioned, running a bony hand through her salt and pepper hair. You were wordless, her scrutinising gaze upon you. “Right... I haven’t seen him, love. Last time I saw him, about an hour ago, was at the Garrison with…”.

Her hesitation was enough to turn you bitter.

And what made it worse, the heart shattering detail of it all, was that she had the nerve to walk back into the Garrison after that meeting, and put back on her pretty face.

Your teeth clenched, apprehensive about telling the matron. You had no idea the extent of her knowledge of the situation, and if you were wrong, you would lose all the trust placed in you by Polly, by the family, but most importantly, Tommy, for incriminating a woman he clearly held affection for.

Luckily, she didn't seem to want to ask, and you decided to take the problem directly to Thomas. You weren't going to risk anything until you were certain she was a backstabber.

Night had come and gone, and yet the rain, which you had foretold, had been relentless. It battered against the roof, echoing throughout your whole apartment as you tossed and turned in your humid and sticky bedsheets. By morning, the outside road had been saturated and was more akin to a river. All of the gutters were spilling and splattering like miniature waterfalls.

John had dropped by in the early hours of the morning to slide a piece of, now-saturated, paper under the door. With ink dripping, it read,

“Dear (Y/N), no need to come into work today. Pol said you were feeling under the weather and we don’t blame you

Feel better soon,

John”

For all the grief she gave you, you loved that woman to death.

For the rest of the day, you were left alone with a tall pile of clothing that needed to be mended and your thoughts. Shame lingered above you like a storm cloud for not speaking up about about your suspicions, but you were truly left with no choice. You promised yourself then when the time presented itself, you would tell one of the Shelby brothers. Though, you couldn’t jump to rash conclusions either.

You were stuck.

The day had transformed into night once again, but you barely noticed as time ticked on. The only indication you were given was the foreboding hourly chime of the clock. The downpour had slowed to a gentle patter and you felt yourself drifting off, a sewing needle wedged between your thumb and pointer finger.

Two thuds, one proceeded by another, caused you to leap from your sofa in surprise. A glance at your hand watch indicated that it was too late for any proper visitor. Your lips pressed together in a thin line

“(Y/N)!”

You rushed to the entryway with a newfound speed at the voice. There was not a single ounce of hesitation as you peeled back the door to meet his face.

This was your chance, and all your anxieties about who could have been at the door were squashed.

“You couldn’t have used the key?” You mused, staring at the man up and down. His coat was dripping, water sliding off it and into the mud. His face had even been dusted in the mist, hair splayed in strands across his forehead. Yet there was something charmingly ruggish about his appearance.

“Didn’t want to scare ya’” he responded, slipping one foot in the door. You stepped backwards towards the safety of your house to provide space.

“Thomas Shelby, scare me?”. With a hand to your chest, you grinned at your friend, only to be met with a frown. Clearing your throat, you directed your hand towards the doorway, “Interesting night for a visit. Is there something bothering you?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Polly said you were asking for me”. As he spoke, his head tilted towards one side, the light skimming over his neck. Your stomach dropped at the sight of a ‘bruise’, your eyes darkened, flickering away and hands crossing over your torso.

Fuck, your job had just become much harder.

Emotions began to course through you, prompting you to bite back your tongue in regret. You weren't sure why the wound stung, but the feeling you were losing your best friend overcame you.

"I..." you coughed, finding it best just to blurt it, "I saw Grace talking to Inspector Campbell in a very involved manner yesterday"

He blinked, and blinked again, letting out a cocky laugh, “I knew you were jealous, but really, (Y/N/N)? That’s impossible, she was with me the whole day”. His lip curled, waiting for your response. Hands finding their way to the pockets of his coat.

You rolled your lip in between your teeth, “I know you were, but she was at the park with him too. You think I’m lying to you?”

“I think you’re jealous”

Your fists were bawled, beginning to feel the effects of the burning anger within your throat, “So what if I am? You’re just going to believe her over me? You would rather risk your relationship with me and your business as a whole over some pretty little barmaid that popped up coincidentally at the same time that Campbell’s investigation began?”

His hand inched towards the doorknob once again, instinctively reaching for the exit. It was clear that he didn’t want to do either of those things, but didn’t want to admit you were right. “I don’t want to waste my time having this conversation, love”. Despite the usual affection in his tone, the pet name was dripping with mockery, sarcasm and malice. Your stomach lurched as the door was thrown back, letting in a sharp draft of wind.

The rain was picking up, the wild winds sweeping swelling storm clouds in your direction. Without another word, Tommy began to advance into the saturated street, the faint light of the outside lamp casting a glow on his face. You shook your head, refusing to let him go,

“Tommy!”

His head snapped back.

“She’s playing you and you know it… You’re a fool, Tommy Shelby”. His head readjusted back onto the cobbled road. Doing his best to block out the venom of your words, he turned and disappeared down the corner of the street, leaving you alone in the chilly doorway of your apartment.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#the peaky blinders #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #female reader #she/her #cillian murphy #season 1 episode 5

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insanityclause · 2 years

Text

"I miss the land and the air in Britain,” admitted Tom Hiddleston during our latest cover interview. “The smells and the sounds of the parks and the country in every season. The way the birds change their tune and routine. The feeling, when you’re home, of knowing the way”.

It’s profound stuff. But, for all of Britain’s green and pleasant virtues, Hiddleston’s home nation remains terrifically tricky to dress for. Whether it’s damp springs or tepid winters, Britain’s weather is more unpredictable than even man’s most comprehensive wardrobe can contend with. And the most fickle month? September — as the heat of summer heat struggles and scuffles with autumn’s chill.

Thankfully, our pub-bound shoot with the British actor sets the pace for September style, with Hiddleston slipping on suede shoes, mid-layer knits and the perfect pair of jeans. So follow in his well-dressed footsteps and learn these six style lessons…

Wear a knitted polo shirt with your suit

It’s September; and that mean’s it’s back to work time. But, while we’ll always hold a torch for ties, the best style bet for your suiting this year is the cosy knitted polo. Soft of handle, and here to bridge the gap between your work-from-home wardrobe and old officewear, it’s a new late summer staple — and can be worn everywhere from the boardroom to your local bar (as Tom Hiddleston will attest).

Our choices run the gamut; and include a silk-woven, short-sleeved option from New & Lingwood, an Italian-made cotton offering from Sunspel in anthe evocatively-named ‘Pepper Melange’ colourway and perhaps our most office-appropriate choice — a long-sleeved ‘Cashwool’ polo shirt from Aurélien with mother-of-pearl buttons and a slim fit.

Don’t be afraid of chunky, patterned knits

It was a bold move; putting Tom Hiddleston in a chunky, pastel-coloured pullover for our summer issue. But it’s a gamble that paid off handsomely (as most things do when the actor and his movie star curls are involved). Late summer, then, is the perfect time to dig out the knits you usually reserve for the dark days of winter; jumpers with bold patterns or touches of playfulness.

Like Hiddleston’s sweater, we’d go for stripes. From Aspesi, this 100% wool option has autumnal colours woven through every thread. From Toast, we’ve opted for a sleeveless Fair Isle style — ideal for any slightly balmier September days. And, perhaps closest to the actor’s knit is this gently-striped sweater from NN07, which swaps Hiddleston’s bold blue bars for softer, more neutral tones.

Classic denim jeans are a seasonal staple

September means it’s time to stash your shorts away for another year — and pull out your most trimly-tailored trousers. But forget the natty checked suit Hiddleston buttoned up for our latest cover shoot, and instead follow his lead by investing in a timeless, dependable pair of denim jeans.

And one brand that knows the value of tradition is Benedict Raven. Crafted from a cotton-stretch blend, the British brand’s ‘Clifton’ jeans are ideal September staples. Aubin, too, has the perfect pair for the late summer season; woven with hemp fibres to add some green credentials to your blues. Or, for a wider leg option, try A.P.C’s ‘Leo’ design.

Add some warmth and texture with suede

With the weather cooling down slightly, September offers you the chance to dig out slightly heavier fabrics and materials. Hiddleston here wears a sophisticated overshirt in that softest, most supple of leathers; suede. It’s rugged-yet-refined, and the perfect weighty way to bulk up your shirts before jacket season hits.

Paul Smith, like Hiddleston himself, is a British institution; a quintessential gent and a designer with an eye for a fantastic field jacket. Reiss, too, has a similarly napped navy option — with a zip that makes it perfect for these transitional months. Or, if you’re looking for more natural tones, try New & Lingwood’s overshirt; cut from goat suede and stitched to life in Austria.

And go for suede with your shoes, too

Suede isn’t just for shirts. Here, Hiddleston slipped on a pair of perfectly seasonal lace-ups from Edward Green — slightly brogued shoes that find a style sweet spot in September. Because, when the hot days of summer are behind us and the rain-soaked winter months are yet to burst their clouds, that’s when suede shoes really hit their stride.

Whether you wear Edward Green’s ‘Chelsea’ Oxfords — shoes with capped toes and twin-stitching — or opt for Crockett & Jones’ ‘Lanark III’ Derby shoes, you won’t go wrong with versatile brown tones this September. Or, if you’re looking to make slightly more of a statement, why not pick up a pair of green ‘Dalby’ shoes from Cheaney?

Try out tonal dressing in autumnal colours

Getting your September shades right is important across the autumnal board — as Hiddleston’s neutral-toned outfits here prove. We’d recommend keeping things relatively bright for these final days of summer weather, but opting for ochres, tans, light browns and beiges to ease your wardrobe elegantly and effortlessly into autumn.

This zip cardigan from Aurélien is the perfect piece of transitional style; softly woven in Italy and designed with versatility in mind. New & Lingwood’s bamboo trousers, similarly, will step you from warmer days to winter months in breathable, sustainable style. And, for a tailored shirt in these tonal colours, try Turnbull & Asser.

#Tom Hiddleston #gentleman's journal #autumn style

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orionchildofhades · 6 months

Text

A Beginning and Perhaps an End

orionchildofhades ao3

summary : On the night of October 31st, Regulus Black walks into what is left of Godric's Hollow. He finds the young child of Lily and James Potter, and swears to right every wrong his past Master has ever done to him, his loved ones, and the child.

Follows the life of Harry Potter if he had been taken care of by Regulus from the start, a man ready to fight for him, and to not let him fall into traps meant to lure him to his death.

tags: Harry Potter is Raised by Regulus Black, Magical Theory, Past Jegulily, + more to be added

Magic is not born. It is. It is and will be and has always been. It links everything together; through blood and flesh; soils and waters; through the air and the fibres of each and every being, place, and thing on this Earth.

Magic is not good, nor is it bad. Magic exists. One could not call the sky evil or benevolent; the sole reason being that it cannot be either.

Dark magic, Light magic. Black and White. Both are equal. They balance each other and the world around them. They work together; they work against one another. They are zero and infinity, day and night. They are one and twilight.

Neither are inherently good, nor are they bad. The same way water can become flood and rain, blood and tears.

Magic is not something.

It is everything.

---

In the depth of night there were cries. Loud. Wailing.

A child was crying.

There was nothing else in the night except for the beating of feet on a paved street, of an erratic breath, of pleas whispered to the dark sky, strangely devoid of stars.

It was a dark, dark night.

The house at the end of the street had half collapsed in on itself, light flickering strangely behind the glassless windows.

The cries wouldn’t stop.

Regulus Black stopped in front of the open door. More than open, it had been torn from its hinges, left hanging unnaturally to the side. It swung weakly as the newly November wind swept into the house, chilling the world to the bones.

There was no warmth, no love in the darkness. It was more of a void, an absence of everything else. It was not the Dark that could offer comfort.

Regulus stood there, observing the tragic stage that the house had become. A house he had never seen properly, not in its well-loved and lived-in state, where people who had laughed and lived together.

It was chaos, pictures that had hung on the walls had fallen to the ground, cracks were splitting the wooden furniture. The couch was torn to pieces, sweet cotton clouds, stark white and pure against the madness of the scene.

And there was James.

Silly James Potter. Sweet and brave James, left on the staircase. His head was hanging to the side, dark brown eyes open still. He didn’t even have his wand in his hand.

Regulus entered the house, for it was no longer a home, and, with his heart to his lips, made his way to the stairs.

The cries had not stopped.

Walking down the corridor, floor creaking ominously underneath his feet, he made his way to the nursery.

This door was also broken, thrown through the windows on the other side of the room. The floors were carved from the strength of the spell.

A tapestry of cracks was drawn across the walls, baby green paint split.

And in the middle of it all was a child.

A child, small, and weak, crying for his mother.

Lily Potter, Lily Evans, lay on the floor at Regulus’ feet, in front of her child’s crib. Her hair was a halo, a ghost of the blood she should have lost in her death. Her skin seemed so pale beside it. There was nothing left of her strength, of her temper, of her intelligence.

Yet her child kept crying for her.

And through the desolation, the fire-like lights were still warming up the room, daunting in their liveliness.

There was no one else.

The room would be empty if not for the pleading of the child and the corpse of the mother.

Regulus’ master was gone.

He was gone and the child was not; the child meant to destroy his master; the child a Seer had announced to be his master’s equal. The child had survived and his master was no more.

Regulus felt light headed for an instant, knees weak and hands shaking as he lowered his wand, his eyes settling on the child.

The child who had quieted.

Who was watching him intently. Whose forehead was bleeding in a slow trickle; a bolt of lightning stricken in vivid red.

Regulus went to the crib; knelt before it.

Green, striking green. The same green as the curse which had killed his mother, his father. Something stronger than nature. And those eyes were red with tears.

The small hands of the child reached forward, eyes gazing into Regulus’.

What could he do?

Nothing, except reach for him back. To bend over and take the child in his arms, cradling the small, still shaking body against his chest, and rock slowly in hope to calm his beating heart.

Both of their hearts really.

And Regulus closed his eyes, trying to find enough peace to plan for the next step.

His master had gone, but he was not dead. He could feel him in the mark scarring his forearm, in the ink linked to the magic in his skin and blood.

Lord Voldemort was not done with this life.

But he had not managed to end this child’s life either.

Regulus would not let the opportunity slip.

A thunder of steps on the floor below stroke fear into his heart, startling the child in a new fit of cries.

With a movement of his wand, a charm was placed on both the child and the man. A silencing charm, a notice-me-not. Regulus stepped back into the shadows behind the drapes that were hiding part of the window.

From the stairs came one Severus Snape.

Barely older than Regulus, his robes a sombre black, he fell on his knees before the body of Lily, a sob escaping his thin lips.

His grief felt too loud, even for Regulus who knew it like the back of his hand. He turned around, rubbing circles on the back of the child’s back, leaving the man behind him to mourn his lost love.

Perhaps a few minutes, or maybe an eternity later, Severus Snape’s cries had gone quiet, the rocking of his body, his hold on Lily’s, had ceased. And all that was left was the quiet breathing of both Regulus and the child.

He made his way to the centre of the room, observing the damages done.

The carving in the floorboards seemed more intricate than what he first thought, a careful design set in the wood. With the carpet on the way, Regulus was unable to see most of it. It seemed to be more than solely the leftover damages of a gone-astray spell.

A motor rang outside, approaching at a fast pace. A motor Regulus knew. He might not have had the occasion of hearing if often but the sound of it would always light one dark corner of his heart. And soon enough, just as he expected, Sirius Black’s motorcycle came to a screeching stop by the gate, the man himself sitting astride.

Regulus looked at Harry, the quiet face of pain, trails of blood still drawn across his face. He bent down, put him back in his crib.

Harry would do better with Sirius; his actual godfather, the man James had trusted till the end. He would be safer with him, Regulus supposed. After all, he himself had always felt the safest in his brother’s shadow.

He kissed the dark hair of the child, closing his eyes for a second.

The cries, which had calmed, started anew when, after a long breath, he rose properly.

He took a step back toward the door and picked up Voldemort’s forsaken wand.

He stepped back into the shadows, waiting for Sirius to barge in and take Harry away from the bodies of his parents, to peace, and quiet, and love. Maybe Remus would be there too, by the boy’s side, offering some of the level-mindness Sirius probably didn’t have even as an Auror.

And Sirius did come in. His eyes were half mad already, tears clogging his eyes, stark silver in the warm light of the room.

His eyes were on Harry, then on Lily. A faint sound escaped his lips, like his pain was trying to find relief but his body was too taunt to let it go.

[...]

#jegulily #jegulus #jily #regily #(?)#the marauders #harry potter #hp marauders #hp fandom #hp fanfic #i wrote something new #orionwritesthingies #james potter #regulus black #lily evans #remus lupin #sirius black

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