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hamaylfabrics · 3 months

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novlr · 4 months

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What are some ways to describe summer ?

Summer is not just a season; it’s a vibrant setting that can add life and color to your writing. Whether you’re crafting a sun-soaked romance or a beach thriller, the way you describe summer can immerse readers in your story. Let’s dive into how you can capture the essence of summer, focusing on the various senses and elements that make this season unique.

Sights

Sunsets that paint the sky in hues of orange, pink, and purple.

Children chasing ice cream trucks down suburban lanes.

Sunbathers dotting the coastline.

Sprinklers casting rainbows across freshly mowed lawns.

Flower gardens in full bloom, a riot of colours.

Sunglasses showing reflections of the bright world.

Sun hats and flip-flops scattered around pool decks.

Fireflies illuminating the night.

Street markets bustling with locals buying fresh produce.

Hikers on forest trails.

Sounds

The cacophony of cicadas in the late afternoon.

Waves crashing against the shore in a constant rhythm.

The sizzle and pop of barbecues in backyards.

Children’s laughter as they play outside.

Ice clinking in glasses of lemonade or cocktails.

The distant whirr of lawn mowers.

Splashes and shouts from swimming pools.

Chirping songbirds greeting the morning.

The crackle of bonfires during cool summer nights.

The melodic chimes of ice cream trucks roaming the streets.

Smells

The salty tang of sea air at the beach.

The overpowering scent of chlorinated pools.

Freshly cut grass after morning lawn care.

The scent of sunscreen and tanning oils on warm skin.

The smoky aroma of grills at a neighborhood cookout or family barbeque.

Fragrant blossoms like jasmine and roses in full bloom.

The earthy smell of rain on hot pavement.

The mix of fruits, vegetables, fried food, and flowers at an open-air market.

Melting tar with an accompanying heat shimmer on hot roads.

Campfire smoke clinging to clothes and hair during outdoor adventures.

Activities

Beach volleyball games, sand flying as players dive for the ball.

Leisurely picnics in the shade of ancient trees.

Hiking trips taking advantage of the long daylight hours.

Sailing and boating, the wind filling sails on sunlit waters.

Outdoor concerts, where music floats on the warm night air.

Road trips with car windows down, hair whipping in the wind.

Fruit picking in orchards and berry farms.

Camping under the stars, a tent and a sleeping bag for a home.

Water fights with hoses, water guns, and balloons.

Attending summer festivals full of food, music, and dance.

Character body language

Wiping sweat from the brow or fanning themselves to cool down.

Squinting against the harsh sunlight or seeking out spots of shade.

Sipping cold drinks, or gulping down water.

Lounging lazily, limbs relaxed and sprawled out.

Applying sunscreen meticulously.

Adjusting sunglasses or hats for better protection.

Dipping toes tentatively into the sea or a pool.

Tugging at clothes sticking to sweat-dampened skin.

Laughing with carefree abandon, a reflection of summer’s ease.

Turning pages of a paperback with fingers damp from pool water.

Positive descriptions

The liberating feeling of diving into cool water on a scorching day.

The tranquil peace of a sunrise beach yoga session.

The simple pleasure of ice cream melting on the tongue.

The bliss of a hammock nap swayed by a gentle breeze.

The joy of endless blue skies promising adventure.

The warmth of sun-kissed skin after a day outdoors.

The satisfaction of a well-tended garden coming to life.

The contentment of sharing a sunset with loved ones.

The thrill of catching the perfect wave while surfing.

The comfort of balmy evenings spent on porch swings.

Negative descriptions

The oppressive heat making the air feel thick and suffocating.

The relentless buzzing of mosquitoes on a muggy night.

The sting of sunburn after a day of neglecting sunscreen.

The frustration of packed tourist spots and overcrowded beaches.

The exhaustion induced by long days and sweltering heat.

The discomfort of air thick with humidity.

The annoyance of sand finding its way into every nook and cranny.

The disappointment of a rained-out picnic or canceled event.

The lethargy of a heatwave, energy sapped by the relentless sun.

The discomfort of trying to sleep in an overheated, uncooled room.

Helpful Adjectives

Scorching

Balmy

Sultry

Languid

Radiant

Dazzling

Parched

Breezy

Rippling

Sweltering

Sunny

Lush

Blistering

Tropical

Vibrant

Humid

Verdant

Golden

Glowing

Fragrant

Torrid

Tranquil

Crisp

Sizzling

Flaming

Steamy

Refreshing

Shimmering

Lazy

Stifling

Invigorating

Sparkling

Zesty

Fervent

Stuffy

Arid

Saturated

Juicy

Sunbaked

Fetid

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magnoliaroad · 2 months

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4 Seasons Back Yard Remodel + Crystal Yard

My 4 seasons remodels of the Petz 5 Back Yard are now available for download! And because I went on a bit of a side-quest, I’ve also made a bonus version, a fantasy, crystal back yard!

You can read my creator's notes below:

I somewhat wonder if it's fair to criticize the original Petz 5 playscenes too harshly. It's possible that the development team faced tight deadlines or budget constraints, factors that may not have been entirely within their control. However, regardless of the circumstances, the end result was a disappointingly sloppy product, and it's difficult to ignore some of the glaring flaws. While I can understand that the developers were working with dated software, there are certain flaws that can't be attributed to software limitations. Rather, they seem to reflect a clear lack of attention to detail. Here's what I mean.

The more you look at it, the harder it is to decide which flaw is the worst. The blatant MS paint spray paint "touch-up" in the upper left, that there was no effort put into blending in the skybox, or that they neglected to add textures to the roof.

Alright, enough ranting there. None of this is to say my playscenes are perfect either, but they were a labor of love and I hope that this is evident in the final results.

SPRING

I smoothed out the grass texture to give it a more velvety, manicured lawn appearance. I brightened up the dingy looking fence to a more brighter white. The original playscene had a hole in the fence, and while it might add "character", I opted to cover over it for a more polished look. I added bushes behind the fence to cover up the skybox and to conceal the bottom of the houses.

Speaking of houses. Wow these needed a big work-up. The texture work (or lack of) on these is just bad. I'm no expert in house construction, but even mostly-brick houses will have some accents like trims to break up the monotony of a fully-brick façade.

Because of how fuzzy the brick texture is in the original, I drew in the mortar lines of the bricks to enhance the texture. I added roof shingles, siding, and trim boards to the house to make it look more like a typical suburban house. Despite these edits, it's still not a "great" house - the way it looks through the windows, it looks like the house is one room lol. I wish I could put better houses in the backdrop but because Tinker doesn't allow me to edit the animated blinds, I'm constrained to keeping them the shape that they are. Oh well. We can use our imagination.

I added landscaping rocks to make the flower bed look nicer. I also added some landscaping details like bushes, garden lights, and string lights for ambiance.

[ Enlarged picture of the garden light I made ]

I also worked to improve the skyboxes in all 4 seasons of the of the Back Yard playscenes. It would be lengthy to get into the details of all that but here's a before and after of the night skybox. You got to love them high-quality MS paint stars in the original.

SUMMER

I had a hard time with the summer one because it was hard to come up with ways to make it look different from the spring version. I did make the grass, bushes, and tree leaves slightly more vibrant. Originally I had some flowers by the bushes but I just wasn't really happy with them. At the last minute, I made the decision to remove them entirely. This makes the playscene a little more "plain" but I think some people may want a more "plain", undecorated version so that they can dress it up how they want with toyz.

FALL

Fall is my favorite season, so this was a joy to make. I toned down the color of the grass and added fall landscaping motifs. Recoloring the tree's leaves was done by using Photoshop's gradient map feature. If time permits, I may do a tutorial on this in the future.

Gradient mapping is a powerful tool for recoloring almost anything. It can give way better results than methods such as hue/saturation, replace color, etc. And thanks to photoshop actions, applying this recolor to all the animation frames took just a couple of minutes.

Unfortunately, the fall leaves look "bright" in the nighttime version of the playscene. There does not seem to be a way to implement a darker version of these leaves for the nighttime playscene. If you look at the sprites in Tinker, you'll see that there are two sets of animations for Leaves A, B, and C and they're labeled "PropsAd" and "PropsAn", which would lead you to think that the developers originally intended for there to be a set of leaves for the day time, and a darker set for the night time. I guess the developers scrapped this idea because this does not work in the actual gameplay. When I experimented with this, the game appears to randomly display the nighttime sprite even during the day time, effectively ruining the intended affect. I'm not sure why the developers scrapped this. Either they had issues coding this properly or were just didn't want to put in the effort to make two sets of leaves.

WINTER

Instead of doing recolored leaves for this scene, I made all the leaves transparent and added holiday lighting to the tree. I know the lights aren't perfect - it was kind of hard to make out which direction a branch was going, so it has hard to maintain 'perfect' perspective.

CRYSTAL YARD

This is a bonus playscene that I made because I got a little side-tracked as I was working on the 4 seasons back yards. This is inspired by the Suramar zone from World of Warcraft, so it has a bit of that fantasy, night-elf feel and color scheme. It's been years since I've played WoW but I still appreciate the enchanting aesthetic of the elven zones.

I used gradient mapping again to recolor the leaves to give it this lavender, shimmery, iridescent look. I did a little bit of gaussian blurring and layer effects to make them look a little more "glowy" than the originals.

As before, Tinker won't let me edit the blinds, so it limited what edits I could do to the houses. I would love it if I could have done curtains instead or something. I did my best to make these houses look a little less suburban and more elven. It's not perfect but it was rough working with what I had.

KNOWN ISSUES / THINGS I COULDN'T EDIT

As far as I'm aware, there is no way to turn off the snow effect for seasons like summer where it wouldn't make sense. This probably involves some code-editing that is beyond my technical skillset.

The winter playscene still has the green grass footprint when your petz walk. The sprites for these are not housed within the .env itself but in the Petz 5 Rez.dll file. It would probably involve a bit of tweaking in the code to switch the sprites to something else.

The fall leaves are "bright" in the night time version because there is no way to implement a second, darker set of leaves.

I cannot edit the blinds animation. Tinker gives you an error when you try to edit this sprite. This unfortunately limits what edits I can make to the house and the fence because of where the sprite is positioned.

If anyone does know of solutions to these, do let me know as I'd love to enhance these scenes further!

ICONS

Making the icons for these was also a fun little project. For some odd reason though, the game puts a stray pixel over them when I import them through LnzPro. I did my best to disguise them but there does not seem to be a way to fix that.

BEFORE / AFTER

With all that rambling out of the way, visit my main page over at Magnolia Road > Resources > Playscenes to download the goodies!

#petz #petz 5

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oiblackestsheep · 13 days

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MBTI Types as spring time characteristics

INTP: The large patches of shade under trees with new leaves that make you feel a little chilly

INFP: Fields of newly blooming wildflowers that wave back and forth in the wind

INTJ: The rising sun in your window that is just bright enough to wake you up on time

INFJ: The pastel blue and pink colors of the sky after sunset, before the sky goes dark

ENTP: The elecricity in the air that sets you on edge just before a thunder storm

ENFP: The cool, but humid wind blowing through your hair and filling your lungs just before a thunder storm

ENTJ: A spontaneous rain that cleans all the pollen off your car, free of charge

ENFJ: Finally getting to wear the lighter and thinner outfits you bought and planned out back in February

ISTP: Watching heavy bumble bees land on flowers and weigh them down while they pollinate

ISFP: Playing with the different spray pattern settings on your garden hose while you water your yard

ESTP: Driving with the windows rolled all the way down and playing your favorite music for the city to hear

ESFP: The warm and heavy rain that entices you to run out into it without an umbrella and dance

ISTJ: Waking up to the sound of your neighbor's lawn mower in the distance and the smell of freshly cut grass

ISFJ: Seeing earth worms on the wet sidewalk and taking extra care not to step on them

ESTJ: Seeing signs for free/low-cost, outdoor community events at the park, zoo, library, etc..

ESFJ: The vibrant and highly organized freshly planted tulips in front of the public elementary school

#mbti #mbti personalities #mbti types #16 personalities #mbti personality types #it's spring time!!!#spring has so many wonderful things about it that i just felt like listing which ones i felt fit the types the most #this was VERY much based on intuition and vibes lmao #there is SOME flimsy layer of logic for most of these designations but you know #i wouldn't call this extremely scientific lmao

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ventiswampwater · 8 months

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[ 13 ] the garden center of a home improvement store

Lester Sinclair x reader, fluff or smut—both are good! Also, there's no pressure to fulfil this. If it strikes your fancy, great! If not, no worries. 😊 💚

tysm for the prompt crumb <33

881 words. Lester Sinclair x GN!Reader. Absolutely NO warnings, just fluffy flirtation!

send me a prompt & a character and I'll write u a lil smthn smthn 👀

The air is murky out here, sun streaming through the glass ceiling.

You make your way slowly around the tables, peering at the assortment of flowers and potted plants. Your eyes land on the mums, their petals a vibrant explosion of color in the center display. After a moment of deliberation, you pick up one of the pots.

You’ve never been one with a green thumb, but you’ll try anything once. As you go to set it in your shopping cart, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

Turning around, you’re met with a bright smile—courtesy of the dirtiest man you've ever seen. He almost looks like he's taken a voluntary tumble into one of the many flowerbeds, dirt smearing across his cheeks and coating his clothes.

"Reckon you're better off with that one." He points towards a nearly identical pot of flowers at the side of the display. "One you got; stems are a lil' woody. Figure these folks haven't been waterin' 'em enough."

You lift the planter in your hands up and peer at the stems. You're not exactly sure what you're looking at, but…sure. Carefully, you set the pot of mums back on the table, reaching for the planter he suggested.

"Just figured you outta know." He shrugs.

"Thanks." You shoot him a smile.

His cart is overflowing with gardening tools, the unwieldy handles of several shovels spearing into the air. Amidst the chaotic assortment of lawn gear, you spy a pale purple succulent, stacked haphazardly on an overturned utility bucket.

"She's a beauty, ain't she?" He gestures down at the plant, beaming at you like a proud parent. "Couldn't bear leavin' her behind."

"She is." You nod.

"You have a good day now!" The items in his cart clang discordantly against each other as he wheels away. You wince as a particularly loud crash fills the air.

You hope that his succulent survives the shopping trip.

A week later, you step back into the gardening center. The now-familiar blast of muggy air smacks you directly in the face as you walk through the automatic doors.

Technically, you're here for some plant food. Technically. That's a good cover up story. A good Responsible Adult Reason to be back here again so soon. It's absolutely not motivated by the fact that you felt like your pot of mums was looking lonely on your porch. Of course not. It couldn't be. Because you don't need another plant. You don't even really have solid proof that you can keep the one you have alive, yet.

You should've known.

You're a bit of a fickle thing with your interests, bouncing from one to the other depending on your mood. Right now, for whatever reason, you're stuck on gardening. Like a malevolent botanical hivemind, your brain is currently tethered directly to those godforsaken flower displays. Now that you have one, you need another. That's what people always told you about tattoos, but you're surprised to find it also ringing true for plants.

First, though, practicality must reign. You grab a basket and stride down an aisle of gardening supplies, scanning the metal shelves for a shaker bottle of plant food. Rounding a corner, you nearly bump into someone squatting next to a palate stacked with bags of lime.

"Sorry!" You exclaim.

"No problem." It's the guy from last week. He peers up at you, his eyes brightening with recognition. "How's them mums doin'?"

"They're good." You smile. "Surprised you remember me."

“Well, you’re plenty memorable.” He says, eyes darting up your frame.

He's covered in marginally less dirt this time. He's also cuter than you remembered.

"You think so?" You smile.

“If you don’t mind me sayin’.” He dips his head bashfully.

This is most definitely not what you came for...but it's certainly a bonus.

“Isn’t this what people use to get rid of bodies?” You ask playfully, gesturing down at a bag of lime. You weren't sure how true that was, but you vaguely remembered seeing it in some true crime documentary. Or maybe that was lye, not lime—

"This kind ain’t no good for that.” He replies brightly, tapping at the label. “See, uh, this—it’ll slow decomp down…to a crawl. You ain't never gettin' rid of nothin' dead with it."

"You don't say…"

“Ya’ gotta use the right stuff. Now this—" He pats another bag matter-of-factly, nodding approvingly. "—this is the stuff you need for that kinda job."

You watch as he picks up the bag and heaves it into his cart. Wiping the dust off his hands, he gives you a lopsided grin.

"But even then, ya’ know, there’s always somethin’ left over in the end.” He continues. “'S hard gettin’ rid of bodies. Harder than ya' think.”

"You get rid of a lot of bodies?" You arch a brow.

"Part'a the job." He shrugs. "Pickin' up roadkill."

“Ah, Parks and Rec-kinda stuff?”

“Guess ya' could say that.”

You slot behind him in line at the cash register, a planter full of violets in your basket.

"Do you have a pen?" You ask the cashier.

Impulsively, you lean over the conveyor belt and scrawl your number onto the side of his bag of lime.

You don't need to look up to know that he's grinning.

#it's SO weird to not write 27183787387 words for smthn. but here's a.........smthn for u MWAH #this is kinda hot garbage but I'm RUSTY!! lol #house of wax #lester sinclair x reader #if I get more of these they might need a tag so.........#bite-size fics #for now! at least! that can be the tag hdshjsfdhjfds

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spacedoutman · 2 months

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【𝙈𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 | 𝙆𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙖𝙪】

(𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩)

Description: The world crumbled but their love stayed intact. Caught in a firefight over food, Paul's been shot. Does Ace have any hope of pulling him through or pulling through this at all?

♥ Paul Stanley x Ace Frehley

Note: The fuck? I actually have to copy these little formats from each of my fics and something stuck from Pygmalion I thought I fixed. I KNEW something was off sksk (it was also super late when I did this haha))

Warnings: Blood/Grief/Death

𝙖𝙤3

Paul slammed against the wall. The ground thundered like a volcano about to erupt. Gunshots jetted, cutting down overgrown vines like a saw. Paul’s heart drug a muffled beat. He took a shaky breath of the thick musty air through clenched teeth.

“Is e-everyone alright?”

Paul fought his head. It blurred. The faces around him, down, up or rushing across the decayed floor smeared. His world swayed like a tree in the wind. Frantic shouting clashed in his ear. Ace drug himself up by a string, staggering forward and hitting the wall beside someone else. Paul’s hand went white around the pistol—the other red.

He clenched his stomach. His blood pumped. It felt like he’d stuck his hand in a void. An even stream of blinding light bleached the building through the massive gap in the wall, somehow climbing over the buildings collapsed like dominoes and rubble-conquered streets. Ace tossed his arm out pistol in hand. He shot off a few rounds into the distant rubble or vivid blue sky outside.

Paul’s legs wobbled. Seeing something other than a bird or two after all these years would be nice.

“We’ve got to surrender.” A horrified voice grated Paul’s ears.

“T-This isn’t the end.”

Paul choked out. Paul.. choked out? His eyes shot wide. Ungodly wide. His breaths sped up. “We’ve got to eat.. what we came for..” Paul groaned. His legs turned to jello. He stumbled back. Every pinch of air in his lungs fled. He hit the rocks. Glass crunched. Everything waved in and out. Red burnt his eyelids. Singing birds soothed his mind like a lullaby before-

“Paul!”

A polished suburban house, surrounded by an ocean of green bathed by soft sunlight and a little American flag off the porch flashed. There was a grill on the lawn.

Paul smiled. His heart tried to flutter. His chest and throat loosened. A little more air slipped into his lungs. He curled into a tight ball. Two warm hands swept him up. Black took over his vision. Yelling boomed. Paul shut his eyes as tightly as possible. Echoes of pain crept through him distantly. Cool seeped through his bomber jacket.

Ace held it together.

“Y-You’re gonna’ be alright, Paul..” Pain grasped Ace’s shuddering voice like a lover.

“I’m.. I’m not. I know it.” His hand crawled onto Ace’s. “If those bombs go off.. all ten stories are going to collapse. You.. You can’t carry me out.” A bit of certainty spiked.

“Please.” Ace’s eyes shot wide, he quickly shook his head. “Don’t say that..”

“You can’t.. I’m dead.”

Ace grabbed Paul’s hand. Some feeling like vibrant colors exploded. Paul couldn’t help but to grin. “I love you.” He whispered, laying his head on Ace’s chest. The chaos around them died. Ace hugged him tightly, pulling him as close as possible. Tears poured down their faces like a river, soaking their shoulders.

Ace clutched him. He swallowed sobs. Paul took a deep breath, savoring the gentle homey smell clinging to Ace’s leather jacket. Iron coated his tongue.

“I’m not letting you go.” Ace forced strength into his voice. “I can’t.”

“But you gotta’ live..” Paul faded into murmurs.

“I swear to god—we’ll get out, I swear..!”

“You will.”

The suburban house flashed. Ace relaxed on the stairs, dressed in something clean with a grin shining on his bright face. Another person slammed into the heavy duty crates. Paul sunk into Ace. Ace shut his eyes as tight as he could. Paul’s limbs loosened in milliseconds. His smile spread into a grin.

“I always imagined us with kids..” Paul’s features softened. A little light sparked in his voice. “.. How many would you want?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“It’s gonna’ be okay, Ace.. you don’t have to worry anymore.”

“Don’t talk like that. We..we still have a future.”

“Maybe in another life.”

“Paul?”

“Think of it..”

“Paul. We have people in the future waiting for us—w-who don’t even know our names!”

…

“Paul?”

#This I kid you not was inspired by a playlist #Also I used to want to start a #post apocalyptic #alternate universe #so damn badly #ace frehley #paul stanley #kiss band #kiss fanfiction #fanfic #writeblr #mild firefight

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spontaneousmusicalnumber · 1 year

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So apparently pokeberry is a great dye plant. The berries and roots are used.

The berries are extremely pigmented and make a bright fuschia dye, but like all berry dyes it's not very colorfast and fades quickly. They're easy to collect and easy to dye with, only requiring vinegar as a mordant. Vibrant, if short-lived, color with ten million how-to articles.

The root is said to make, quoted from Wikipedia, "A fine red dye". I looked at the source from wikipedia, a brief description of plants of the Americas from the late 1700s, which goes into no more detail.

If I just search for pokeberry root, I get sold quack remedies and tinctures. If I search for pokeberry root dye, I get overwhelmed by results about dyeing with the berries.

The entirety of the plant is toxic to mammals. The root is the most toxic part, tea infused from it can kill an adult. I just want someone to tell me ANYTHING about how this dye was produced and used so I DO NOT get tempted to try it myself.

I'm going to be removing pokeberry plants from inconvenient spots in my lawn anyway this summer. WHAT IF i were to just. Tie the roots up to the rafters of the garage to dry out. Would that be too swamp hag of me.

#my posts #dyeing #natural dyeing #natural dye #pokeberries #pokeberry

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alex51324 · 6 months

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Botanical garden expedition!

Today's adventure was a visit to Longwood Gardens, a large botanical garden a reasonable drive from my home. They cleverly draw crowds in what would otherwise be their slow season, with a big display of Christmas lights, trees, and other decorations.

It's hugely popular; you have to reserve tickets in advance, and it's timed entry, where you can stay as long as you want, but you have to arrive within half an hour of the time that's on your ticket--so they don't have a zillion people showing up just at dusk, I guess. By the time I decided to go, in the middle of this past week, the latest arrival time they had left for Friday was 1 PM. (Every Saturday and Sunday until the end of the Christmas event is sold out; luckily, I don't work on Fridays and my dad is retired.)

It worked out OK--we went through all of the indoor displays while they were just crowded and not completely packed. Here's a picture I took in the main conservatory:

The flower beds in here were mainly poinsettias, amarylis, and paperwhites (shown). The bright green lawn in December was also an interesting novelty. There were about a dozen different Christmas trees, and some rooms with period furniture/Christmas decorations. This corridor was neat:

(The people are strangers; see above re: crowds.) This hallway leads to the orchid room. A lot of people just zipped right through the orchid room--I guess since it didn't have anything special in it for Christmas--so I took advantage of the elbow room and ability to get a few pictures without being in anyone's way:

It smelled really nice in there, too:

We also had plenty of time to explore the grounds and decide what we wanted to go back and see again once it was lit up.

They had several of these treehouse things, all decorated for Christmas:

This one had these Dr. Seuss-looking trumpet things:

And Christmas trees, of course:

We also had a walk through the Wildflower Meadow, which is the Gardens' natural area. Admittedly, in December is doesn't look a whole lot different from, say, a soybean field, which we can walk through any time we want, but it was nice to get away from the crowds for a bit, and we talked about coming back in the summer when the wildflowers will be in bloom. Here's some staghorn sumac:

The destination for the meadow walk is this 300-year-old farmhouse:

It has a few exhibits inside, about the history of the house and what you can see in the meadow (when it's not December). I liked the cooking hearth, of course:

The big tree next to the farmhouse is completely wrapped in lights, so that was #1 on our list of things we wanted to see lit up. We didn't hike up to the house again in the dark; there's a place you can see it from the edge of the platform:

The picture doesn't do it justice at all; either my phone camera just isn't good enough to take pictures of Christmas lights, or I didn't get the settings right. Here's a similar tree in the middle of the meadow, that came out a little better:

This area near the edge of the meadow was one of the neatest places for lights. There's a boardwalk that runs along it; one section they had these lights that were done to look like torches, scattered through the grass, and then another section they had these multicolored orbs that pulsed through a range of colors.

Back to daytime, I was fascinated with this berry bush:

It's called beautyberry, and the purple is even more vibrant in person. Here's a closeup:

Around here, it's not hard to find red and orange berries on winter bushes, but purple was new for me.

The other big thing at this garden is the water features; my dad and I both remembered them from (separate) visits some decades ago. A lot of them don't run in December, of course, but they have one section of fountains that do:

They do a show with lights and music, every 15 minutes. (More strangers in the picture.) And here's another water feature that I attempted to take a picture of:

There was a lot of other cool stuff that I couldn't get pictures of--several tunnels of lights, and lots of trees lit from below with colored lights, like the green ones in the picture above. There was one group of trees lit in red and silver, that looked really nice. But by that point I had realized that it made more sense to just look at things, rather than taking disappointing pictures of them, so I'll leave you with one more of the meadow area:

#christmas #longwood gardens

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arthropod-concoctions · 1 year

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Uprooted: chapter 4

(ch 1 - ch 3 - ch 5)

Scott woke up to sunlight creeping over the edge of the horizon and a horrible itch in his nose.

He sneezed, pushing the hay out of his face and startling Jimmy, who was laying next to him. Scott closed his eyes again, but he heard Jimmy yawning and shifting over on the haystack.

“Babe,” Jimmy said, “That was really stupid of us.”

“Mmmmwhuh?” Scott replied, still half-asleep.

“Sleeping here. We could've just gone inside, slept on an actual bed.”

Now Scott did open his eyes, and turned around to see Jimmy next to him, looking upward, with his usual goofy grin that Scott loved so much. “Yeah, maybe.” He yawned as well, and stretched his arms out. “I dunno. It was a good idea at the time. It was about the vibe, you know?”

Jimmy chuckled. “Sure. But let's sleep inside tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” Scott rolled closer to Jimmy, wrapped his arms around him- then scrunched up his nose. “But you need to take a bath first. You smell like death.”

Jimmy laughed, and then they laid there in silence, watching the sunrise.

Things weren't back to normal right away. Scott would still get startled when he turned around and saw Jimmy looking at him, and sometimes Jimmy would hold his hand too close to a burning candle, or neglect to wear a jacket in the cold nighttime air, or not eat for a whole day, and it was a reminder that something had changed him, that he wasn't quite the same type of human as Scott. He didn't cry when it was time to take one of the cows to the slaughter anymore, and the smell of smoke never went away, no matter how much he bathed.

It took a week before Scott was able to look Jimmy in the eyes from up close again. While the inner circles of his irises had turned a vibrant red, the edges of them still revealed Jimmy's natural eye colors: one brown, one blue. They clashed with the red, but the mismatched colors were so familiar, so Jimmy, that Scott found it a beautiful sight anyways. Even out of the sunlight, when the red gave off a faint glow, Scott now noticed the other colors, and wondered how he could have ever found the sight to be frightening.

So, as much as it could, business went back to usual. Jimmy took care of the cows-- with just as much love as he always had-- and Scott made dyes and leatherworks. But Jimmy didn't leave the farm anymore, and when acquaintances asked Scott about him, he left out the detail of him being red-lifed now. Reds living together with non-Reds was unheard of, and Scott didn't think the locals would react well to the news that Jimmy's eyes were red now, even if his temperament remained the same. So they kept the fact a secret.

This went well, until a visitor came to their door instead.

A few weeks after the incident, Scott and Jimmy were eating lunch when Scott heard a knock on the door. He looked at Jimmy, who looked just as confused as he felt; they never got visitors to their house. After a few seconds, the person knocked again, and called out: “Is anybody home?”

Scott told Jimmy: “Okay, I'll answer the door; you should stay out of sight.” Jimmy nodded, and headed to their bedroom; Scott got up and opened the door.

Standing outside was somebody Scott had never met before. A man with long ginger hair, wearing a green uniform and carrying large red-and-white banner partially strapped to his back. Next to him stood a horse, casually grazing on the grass of Scott's lawn.

“Ah, hello,” the unknown man said to Scott. “Is there anybody else living here?”

Scott had intended to tell whoever was at the door that his husband was sick, but seeing this stranger, he changed his mind. “Nope. Just me.”

The man looked skeptical, but didn't push the matter. Instead he grabbed a scroll of paper, and began to read from it. “Well, I'm here to inform you that this land now belongs to King Ren of Sanguacanis, and you are therefore beholden to the following laws...”

Scott hummed in surprise. He'd heard rumors of war, of course, but him and Jimmy lived so far away from any big community that they didn't think they would ever experience consequences of it quite this directly.

“First of all, the kingdom uses a currency of coins and emeralds. One gold coin is worth the same as a loaf of bread, and one emerald has the value of ten coins. You should accept these coins to trade for your wares instead of bartering.”

that would explain the story Jimmy told about that crazy lady, Scott thought.

“Second, you are expected to pay a tax to the kingdom. The tax amounts to fifteen coins per month, and will be collected monthly. If you don't have coins at the time, then goods you've created of equal value will suffice.”

“What?” Scott exclaimed in shock. If one coin was equal to one loaf of bread, that was a ludicrous amount of extra goods to get every month. “How are we meant to get that money? We can barely trade enough to eat every month!”

“Well, perhaps raising your prices might help,” the messenger responded. He seemed bored, like he'd had this exchange with a dozen people already. “But who's 'we'? You said you lived alone.”

Scott silently cursed himself. How was he going to explain this? A partial truth was probably the best option.

“Sorry. My husband turned Red recently, I'm still not quite accustomed to... that.” he tried to put as much grief into his voice as possible, in hopes the messenger wouldn't ask too many follow-up questions.

The man nodded, and said: “I'm sorry that's happened. But the next law may be of particular interest to you then: all red-lifed citizens will be recruited into the Red Army.”

Scott felt his face getting paler. “The... Red Army?”

“Yes. The red-lifed can then use their fighting spirit in a constructive way: to fight for King Ren.” The messenger began to rummage through a bag hanging off of his horse's side. “This also means you are not to bury or cremate Reds anymore; simply hang this banner on the road near your house, and scouts of the army will come retrieve them.”

The man handed Scott a wide strip of red fabric, similar to the banner he was bearing. The anxiety Scott felt must've been noticeable on his face, because the man smiled at him and added:

“If you're worried about your husband hurting you, don't worry. The Red Army is quite competent at dealing with overly aggressive Reds. You'll both be fine.”

Scott nodded and gave a strangled sort of hum as a response. The reassurance didn't comfort him at all; quite the opposite. The thought of Jimmy being dragged away to a literal army of Reds made him nauseous with dread.

The messenger mounted his horse again and went along the road, so Scott turned around and went back inside. There he found Jimmy with his ear against the wall. He looked at Scott, eyes wide.

“I don't want to join the army,” he eventually said.

“I don't want that either!” Scott responded. He looked at the banner in his hands. “I'm supposed to hang this up by the road, but...”

“Well don't do that then!” Jimmy yelled. “I can't join the army. I'm already Red, if I get into another fight... it's over.”

Scott dropped the banner to the ground, then kicked it into a corner of the room. “Well, we've been doing a pretty good job of hiding that you're Red so far. I think if we just... keep doing that, we should be fine.”

Jimmy nodded. “I hope so.”

Scott's lunch was still on the table, so he resumed eating, even though his appetite had vanished.

- - -

After sunset, Scott and Jimmy were lighting candles, when they heard something shuffling outside the door. Scott glanced at Jimmy, then turned towards the door and watched it carefully. It didn't open, but after a few seconds, a note was slid underneath. Scott heard a knock on the door, then the sound of someone walking away. After a moment, Jimmy carefully went to the door and picked up the note. He read it, then looked to Scott.

“Scott. Come take a look at this,” he said. Scott went to Jimmy, and he handed him the note. Scott looked at it. The handwriting was difficult to decipher, especially in the candlelight, but when he squinted he could make out the words:

Don't want to pay taxes or join the army? Come to the Red Desert! A soceity where reds and greens can live as equals.

Come to the desert to the west during the nighttime.

“Huh,” Scott said. “Guess we do have options.”

#arthropod writes #third life fic #third life smp #trafficblr #flower husbands #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #trafficshipping #home is being uprooted

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paramedicabroad · 5 months

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Muskau Park

Join me on a virtual stroll through the enchanting Muskau Park, a unique UNESCO World Heritage Site that transcends borders, weaving a green symphony between Germany and Poland. This historic park beckons us to explore its landscaped wonders, architectural elegance, and the harmonious blend of nature and human creativity.

In 2004, Muskau Park achieved UNESCO World Heritage status, recognizing its outstanding cultural and natural value. The joint inscription acknowledges the park's harmonious integration of landscape design, architecture, and cross-border cooperation.

Muskau Park, straddling the Neisse River, boasts a dual heritage, with parts located in both Germany and Poland. This cross-border collaboration creates a seamless fusion of natural beauty and cultural richness.

Discover the visionary legacy of Hermann Fürst von Pückler-Muskau, the park's creator and landscape architect extraordinaire. His innovative design philosophy seamlessly integrated the park's natural features with picturesque structures.

Amble across historic bridges that span the Neisse River, connecting the German and Polish sides of Muskau Park. These architectural marvels offer breathtaking vistas of the park's meticulously crafted landscapes.

Marvel at the English Garden style that defines Muskau Park, characterized by rolling lawns, serpentine water features, and carefully positioned trees. This style represents a harmonious blend of nature and art, creating a picturesque haven.

Gaze upon Castle Muskau, an architectural gem nestled within the park's embrace. The castle's elegance adds a touch of historical charm to Muskau Park, creating a perfect blend of refined architecture and natural splendor.

Time your virtual visit to coincide with the Rhododendron Festival, an annual celebration of nature's vibrant hues within Muskau Park. The blooming rhododendrons create a mesmerizing tapestry of colors, enhancing the park's allure.

In conclusion, Muskau Park invites us to traverse a green symphony that transcends borders, celebrating the unity of nature and human creativity. When you're ready for a digital retreat into a cross-border wonderland, Muskau Park promises to captivate and inspire. 🌳🏰🇩🇪🇵🇱

#muskau #park #landscape #marvel #germany #poland #europe #travel #unesco #world heritage #culture #rhododendron #beauty #green

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shastakiss · 2 days

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Hi Shasta! Do you use in your game everything that you share here? Do you prefer Cluedo or Yeti colors? And how much CC in gb do you have right now?

Hi! I don't use everything! Phew flashbacks to 2011 when we all had 22GB and we could clean the entire house, mow the lawn, and prepare a seven-course meal while our games loaded

I like so many of the color palettes out there! I've been going through some irl stuff so the Cluedo colors are a little too vibrant for me and I have regrets about yeti petal and yeti fawn ha

Right now my downloads folder is 2.46 GB but it's just defaults/mods/fixes with several in-progress projects/sets I started and also a few sets by other creators I'm checking out. If I put in all the must-haves it'd be about 15 GB.

#sims 2

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hamaylfabrics · 3 months

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https://www.hamayldesignerhub.com

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wolfsbanesparks · 1 year

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I'm at church rn and wanted to ask if you had any more snippets or sneak peaks for "Pretty Little Thing" or "One Last Chance" ? They're so interesting, I can't wait to read them when they come out

Hey! Sorry it took me a bit but I was having trouble deciding what snippet to include. Since I'm planning of publishing the first chapter of Pretty Little Thing in the next week or two I decided to hold off on that one and give you a snippet from One Last Chance.

The three of them pulled up to a large beautiful home tucked away in the suburbs just outside the city. The lawn was freshly cut, a vibrant green dotted with brightly colored flowers. A white picket fence looped around the yard. It was the sort of house Billy had always dreamed of living in, the sort of place that he could make a home, if only in his wildest dreams.

“Are you sure this is the place?” he asked, his voice wavering more than he would like.

Lois twisted around in her seat to face him. “Yep, this is the place. It’s pretty nice huh?”

“Do you think…” he trailed off, not quite sure what he wanted to ask. Was this a good idea? Did she seem happy here, with these people who promised her a great life? Would she remember him, or at least the girl he used to be? Would they want him? Would she want him?

Lois smiled at him. “I think there’s only one way to find out.”

Lois and Clark climbed out of the car, giving Billy a moment to collect himself. This was big. Almost as big as becoming Captain Marvel or joining the Justice League.

He shook his head, shoving down those fluttering hopes. He shouldn’t get ahead of himself. Anything could happen. They might not believe him. They might not like him. They might not want to deal with all the complications that would come with admitting they’d illegally adopted a girl who was presumed dead.

Taking a deep steadying breath, Billy climbed out of the car.

“Will you guys stay with me? I don’t want to lose my nerve.”

“Of course Billy,” Clark said, placing a large comforting hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be right behind you the whole way.”

Together they made their way up the steps to the front porch and rang the doorbell.

Billy had never felt so out of place. He was wearing his nicest sweater and jeans, his hair freshly cut, desperate to make a good impression on the Bromfields. He held the thick file of evidence that he had gathered with Lois’ help, clutching the papers to his chest and hoping his sweaty palms didn’t mess them up.

The door swung open to reveal a middle aged woman dressed in a nice, expensive looking dress, beautifully but a bit overdressed for a simple weekend at home.

“Hello, can I help you?” She smiled at them politely.

Lois smiled back. “Hello, Mrs. Bromfield? I’m Lois Lane from the Daily Planet and this is my colleague Clark Kent.”

Mrs. Bromfield’s face lit up, her smile becoming far more genuine than it had been before. “Oh I’ve heard of you! You’re quite the globetrotter Ms. Lane, my husband and I read all your articles! But I must admit, I’m a bit confused as to why you’re here.”

Lois gently nudged Billy forward. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hello ma’am. My name is Billy Batson and I think…I think you adopted my sister.”

#ask me whatever you want y'all #billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #lois lane #mary batson #mary bromfield #clark kent #my writing #im really excited for the Mary storyline in this fic #and the chance to flesh out the Bromfields a bit #this will probably be somewhere in the middle of the fic once Billy and Lois have established their mentorship

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ego-856 · 28 days

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London: The Heartbeat of England

London, the pulsating heart of England, stands as a testament to the confluence of history, culture, and modernity. From its iconic landmarks to its diverse population, this vibrant metropolis has captivated the world for centuries.

A Tapestry of History

Stepping into London feels like embarking on a journey through time. The city's streets whisper tales of monarchs and revolutionaries, poets and playwrights. Towering above the River Thames, the Tower of London stands as a stoic guardian, its walls echoing with stories of intrigue and betrayal. Across the river, the majestic dome of St. Paul's Cathedral pierces the skyline, a symbol of resilience and endurance through centuries of change.

Cultural Melting Pot

London's allure lies not only in its history but also in its cosmopolitan atmosphere. Wander through the bustling streets of Soho, where every corner reveals a new culinary delight or artistic masterpiece. Lose yourself in the vibrant colors of Camden Market, where diverse cultures converge to create a tapestry of tastes, sounds, and experiences.

Iconic Landmarks

No visit to London is complete without paying homage to its iconic landmarks. From the timeless elegance of Buckingham Palace to the modern architectural marvel of the Shard, each structure tells a story of London's past, present, and future. Take a ride on the London Eye for a bird's-eye view of the cityscape or stroll along the banks of the Thames, where the past and present merge in perfect harmony.

Green Oasis

Despite its bustling streets and towering skyscrapers, London is also a city of greenery and serenity. Hyde Park, with its sprawling lawns and tranquil lakes, offers a peaceful retreat from the urban hustle and bustle. Meanwhile, the enchanting beauty of Kew Gardens transports visitors to a botanical paradise, where exotic blooms and ancient trees create a sense of wonder and awe.

The Spirit of London

Above all, London is defined by its spirit – a spirit of resilience, creativity, and inclusivity. It's a city where tradition and innovation coexist, where old-world charm meets cutting-edge technology. Whether you're sipping tea in a quaint café or exploring the latest trends in fashion and design, London never fails to inspire and enchant.

In conclusion, London is more than just a city; it's a living, breathing entity – a vibrant tapestry woven from the threads of history, culture, and diversity. So, whether you're a first-time visitor or a seasoned traveler, immerse yourself in the magic of London and discover why it truly is the heartbeat of England.

#ego-856

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earththings · 3 months

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Hi!

I hope you're doing well, I'm a relatively new follower. I'm sorry you're getting a lot of negative asks recently, I know that can be frustrating.

So, positivity instead! I hope your lawn is always lush, green, and fragrant. I hope every flower you smell is sweet. I hope every fruit you taste has the perfect amount of juice.

I hope the sun catches in your eyes in just the right ways. I hope your tea is never oversteeped and bitter. I hope the colors in your pictures are always vibrant.

I hope the birdsong is always pleasant to hear and the tress sway gently in the breeze. I hope your footsteps are always soft so you don't accidentally disturb the wildlife you're watching. I hope the rain soothes the hurt.

Your blog is your own, unique, and beautiful. I hope your day is as lovely as a suncatcher reflecting light across the room.

Hello 🤗

Thank you for following me and I’m sorry here lately the posts have been kinda wild 😅 I normally try to stay out of any drama as i created this page to escape that.

Thank you so much for your kinds words 🥹 I really needed that. Like this was soooo nice especially to wake up to😭 I hope all the best things happen for you in life 🥹🫶🏻 you are a beautiful soul and I appreciate you taking the time to share some positivity 🫶🏻🤗

#thanks for the asks #I’m big time smiling #stay hydrated 🫶🏻#stay kind #stay safe #cozy aesthetic #naturecore #earthlings #earthcore #natural aesthetic #light aesthetic #fairy cottage #cottagecore aesthetic #springcore #March

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timelessmulder · 11 months

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A while back my friend bruni @cryptids commissioned me for an atmospheric piece with her Haunted House Documentary Cameraman Warren. I wrapped it up the other night and have permission to share it here (:

On the outskirts of some quaint little town was a pleasant little two story building. It sat tall and unassuming on the border of the woods, with soft yellow walls and accented by white shutters. The front lawn was claimed by a brilliant explosion of color that was the garden, curated with care to give an impression of organized chaos as one strode across the stone path that cut through it to the simple white entry door. Butterflies and fat, lazy bees wandered across the vibrant petals, and if one were so lucky they may see a hummingbird flit among the flowers.

The place was a museum. It had belonged, once, to a playwright who had lived and died there some century and a half before. Now it stood as a monument to the life of its old owner, declared a protected building under the town's historic registry; those beyond its borders may care little for the name, but to them he was a local hero. With that came a snapshot of how one of his economic status, his peculiarities, lived during that era. Like most eccentrics, like most artists, the man had been intrigued by the occult and spirituality. Word was that energy clung to the house. Held in the artifacts preserved in the years since his death, collected by historians and preservationists from collectors and old storage and descendants of family friends. Traveled with the ghosts that visitors and passersby alike claim to have noticed pass in the halls, drift across the windows. And, of course, it meant that the small museum of some small town attracted true believers from all corners of the country.

Warren found it all a bit silly.

Old houses, old land, carried the weight of their history. He thought of this as he strolled the grounds, just beyond the reach of the trees that were keen to swallow up as much of the town as possible, gathering b-roll for the documentary. To step into a place and to know that something had happened there. That someone had lived there. That these items within had been held and cherished or bought as a joke between friends. It settled into the air and found a way to creep beneath the skin; some places tried to mimic this atmosphere, with squat brownstones and the occasional mom-and-pop yet to be choked out of business by a bigger - cheaper - chain store. But the sensation could never be matched. It never put ideas into people's heads. Never quite managed to convince them that every bump and creak was something more than the pipes or the old walls setting.

Maisy was inside with the other tech guys and the curator, setting up a room for interviews with locals who had their own experiences to share. The curator was a friendly enough middle aged woman by the name of Rebecca, an eccentric in the way Warren was coming to realize many historians were when given ground to talk about their field of expertise. While working on this project, he had come to divide these types into three main categories: those who believed, those who were unsure, and those who strictly didn't.

That last one was further subdivided into its own three categories: those who found the idea obnoxious, those who found it silly but harmless, and those who found it fun.

Rebecca was in the category of those who didn't, subdivision "found it fun."

"Etienne Roy, you must understand, was very much a man of that era," she had said, in the easy way of historians who always had information at the tips of their fingers. They had gotten an interview with her early on, just her and Maisy and Warren, during a preliminary tour of the museum. "Seances, communicating with spirits. Even those who weren't eccentric artists were intrigued by it." What she said next came with a light and cheerful laugh, and a tone that came off as though she had personally known the man during his life. That she was close enough to tease him to company without his knowing. "I wouldn't say he was on the level of, say, Arthur Conan Doyle. But he certainly wasn't a skeptic in the league of someone like Harry Houdini."

Warren had not quite grasped her meaning, but had shrugged it off as she led them through the house. She pointed to all manner of things, ranging from the mundane to the stranger things that had found their way into his collection. Warren had taken time to get footage of them, only half paying attention to the explanations Rebecca gave. An authentic ouija board crafted out of wood and with letters carefully painted on by hand. Books on magic, acquired through friends and self proclaimed witches. A strange collection of dolls lined up on a shelf, threadbare and with rotted fabric, staring at the trio with their shiny bead eyes.

There was a distinct feeling of being watched, of icy fingers trailing up his back to send a shiver along his skin. It was probably just the dolls, he thought. Watching you no matter where they stood with those reflective eyes and pleasant stitched on smiles. At least Rebecca hadn't announced their presence to them, as some other curators had on a few prior occasions. Nor had she given Warren any caveats on asking permission to film them. On one memorable occasion, the curator had warned, his voice low and serious, that there were consequences for taking pictures of a particularly ugly threadbare doll without asking his permission first. Bad luck he said, with all the firm sincerity of someone who believed such things, would plague the hapless person until they gave him an apology.

And Warren had rolled his eyes and given Maisy an exasperated look; she'd only given him a sheepish grin and shrug in response. He got a few seconds of footage anyway, no words said to the creepy little doll in his creepy little ringleader outfit. Nothing happened. Of course, the footage of the day had almost been lost and he had spent the better part of the evening - and into the next day - salvaging what he could. But that camera had been on its last legs anyway; a technical problem of that magnitude was inevitable. He'd gotten a new one soon after, and no problems had plagued him since.

Well, no problem that didn't typically plague technology. But he wasn't about to ascribe every little thing to ghosts or curses.

He shuddered against a late summer breeze, one that brought with it that feeling of being watched. A buzz settled in his hands, only kept steady by his years of experience.

He huffed with a roll of his eyes and slight shake of his head. Sometimes when he was lost in his thoughts, Maisy would stand in windows, just behind him, and stare. She would wait until he noticed her, until he damn near jumped out of his skin, and she would cackle. It would be followed by an apology, blunted at its edges to sound not very sorry at all, her mouth smiling and eyes bright. He took it all in stride, accepting it as a bit of friendly ribbing even if she was technically his boss.

The wind blew playful through the leaves, sending them waving against blue skies dotted with clouds. The words "very funny" were building in his throat, when he heard it. A brush against his ear. A young voice, curious, in just above a whisper. "Hello? Who are you?"

Warren jolted. Hands fumbled to find grip on his camera from a momentary loss of control before it hit the ground. He whirled around on his heel, bristling and throat burning hot with embarrassment. And then he stilled. The rush of adrenaline from that flash of fear - that hadn't stepped near a true fight or flight - slipped away, leaving only confusion and a hint of annoyance in its wake.

The window behind him was empty. The curtains fluttered their lazy dance, too sheer to hide anyone behind them.

"Great job, Maisy," he grumbled, b-roll almost forgotten, as he closed the distance to the window. He craned his neck to see inside, looking for the young woman among the dining room furniture. His nose crinkled at the sight of the china cabinets, filled in equal parts with fine cutlery and haunted artifacts. There was a handsomely made ouija board on the table, set up with love and care for a seance that would never come to pass.

There was no sign of the documentarian from his vantage point. He snorted, pushing away from the sill all while drawing up images of her hiding just out of sight, stifling her laughter until her face was red like a teenager not wanting to be caught by a teacher. Not that she was that unprofessional, he thought, of course, even with all her teasing. But with her bright eyes and fashionable clothes and gung-ho attitude, it was easy to imagine her a decade younger than she was.

"You got me," he said, loudly. "I guess you're done with setting up!"

"Sure am," a voice chirped from somewhere to his left.

He whirled in time to see Maisy and Rebecca coming from around the side of the house. Her smiling mouth dimpled her cheeks in a way that usually made one look youthful, but there was a glint to her eye that sharpened her features just enough. His eyes darted back toward the window, the curtains beginning to still in the absence of the wind. Still empty. He leaned back in, looking to see if it was any of the crew who might have snuck inside for a prank. But none had that kind of voice. Unless it was a recording.

"What's it?" Maisy said as they got closer.

"Thought I heard something," he replied, leaning back. That chill prickled along his shoulders, and he suppressed the building shiver.

"Places like this do have a way of getting into your head," Rebecca said with a knowing smile that creased the lines of her face. "Especially out here in the woods."

"Was it a ghost, you think?" Maisy edged toward him, expression wild with barely restrained excitement.

He hummed in consideration, turning away from them. Eyes narrowed as he took in the landscape that surrounded them. To take in the quaint little house in the quaint little town that lived within the woods. Old land with even older history. The kind of place where the very air crackled with the memory of all who lived and died there.

He strained to hear that voice again. But there was nothing out of the ordinary. Only the rustling of leaves and underbrush, disturbed by the wind and wildlife. He watched a bird call for another, finding the tiny speck of black among the green.

"No," he said, finally, with a shrug of his shoulders and a readjustment of his grip on his camera. Useless film there, now, taking up space that could've been used for better things. Later on, when they were all settled, he would play back the footage. Try to hear it. But he doubted it. A trick of the wind, a trick of the mind. He shook his head. "Places like this're...weird."

Rebecca barked a laugh, clapping her hands. "I know what you mean. This house isn't as old as some, but it carries its weight."

Maisy frowned, disappointment hovering at the edges of her expression. Never enough to bring it to a full pout. And then she bounced back, features brightening again. "Well," she said, "if you want a break Rebecca's offered to show us around town. Who knows, maybe we can catch some B-Roll that just isn't this place while we're out."

There was a final glance tossed toward the window, followed by another easy shrug of the shoulders. "Sure."

She beamed. "Great. Rebecca, we can take the van."

Warren flicked the camera off before following the two women towards the front of the house and its gravel driveway. Conversations turned away from ghosts and toward the town history and all its little eccentricities, the likes of which all small towns seemed to possess. And all the while, the Roy estate watched them leave. And the Roy estate would wait for their return.

#horror /#ISH its not that spooky i don't think but just in case #bat writes

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