#Graphite Cooler

[omegagraphite]

[mjhartwork]

portrait

[thatonebirdwrites]

I drew this using ink, graphite, and charcoal. Then I scanned it in and adjusted exposure and contrast.

Kara slid her arm around Lena's shoulder, her thumb rubbing back and forth. Lena leaned into her side and looked up at the night sky. The downtown's high-rises loomed above the shorter buildings closer to the quay's of the dock district. The glow of the city with the crescent moon washed out most of the stars, but a few brighter ones still hung onto visibility.

"You can see Krypton from here?" Lena asked, surprised.

"Sure can," Kara said, amused. She pointed to a spot just a few degrees left of the moon. Lena only saw a dark spot there. "I mapped its route in the sky over the years, and it'd be about there tonight. Located in the constellation of Leo, though Krypton is much closer than the other stars in that constellation."

Lena glanced at Kara and how she kept narrowing her eyes, one hand held up as if to ward off the city's glow. "You can't see it. Even with supersight the light pollution would still muddle your vision."

"All right, you got me." Kara laughed and hugged her tighter against her side. "The city lights are irritatingly bright. I'm tempted to use superspeed and put a hood on all of them so you can finally get a decent view of the nightsky from your balcony."

Lena tapped her chin with her free hand. "You know, that's a really great project. Let me whip up some designs. If you're fast enough, we can bypass the ridiculous city bureaucracy and solve the light pollution problem in one. Bats will love you for it."

"Oh, in that case, I gotta do it. Making bats happy is my life's dream." She leaned her head against the top of Lena's and smiled. "You know I used to be afraid of flying things as a kid. We didn't have them on Krypton. Closest we came was gliders."

"Huh. What helped you get over the fear?" The cool night breeze swept over them, and despite her sweater, Lena felt it down to her bones. The end of summer always brought cooler sea breezes.

"Crows and Ravens. They can learn to speak you know. And I realized that the critters were more afraid of me than me of them." She pressed her lips to Lena's hair. "You're shivering, want me to warm you up?"

Lena shivered again, but this time because of the image of Kara pushing her into the bed and kissing her senseless. "Yes."

[blade-ranger-301]

Piston Peak

So, as mentioned previously in the character sheet, any of my works, art, fanfics, etc will all be based in the UK 🇬🇧

This is just a headcanon that I have. There's not much logic or evidence to back this up or support it as canon. It's just a fun little headcanon of mine. Blade, to me, would make such a good Brit. He's got that morning grumpiness, the intense stoicism, the bad habit of saying "alright" even though he might not be, and he would definitely swear like a brit too. But also, he's hardworking and down to earth.

So, with that, Piston Peak is going to be set in England 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 I've not yet decided if the park will have it's own geographical location or if it's going to replace an already existing one.

Here is the official map for Pistion Peak:

Piston Peak will still have all the features from the movie; V6 Valley, Whitewall Falls, the small basin where the PPAA team is located, etc, but outside of V6 Valley and around the outskirts will be the rest of the park. It will contain features such as lakes, rivers, reservoirs, mountains, hills, forests, and moorlands.

There will also be some camping grounds/camping resorts. And small, cute villages.

Think of this aesthetic:

These geographical features, and the appearance of these features, have taken inspiration from three irl National Parks: The Lake District, Peak District, and Snowdonia National Park.

These three parks hold a special place in my heart. They're my favourite parks and are also the three parks that I've visited most.

The Lake District

The Lake District is located in the north-west of England. It's famously known for its 16 lakes, given it's name. It's also known for the highest mountain in England - Scarfell Pike. It's also the location where Graphite was first discovered before they mass produced Graphite pencils in Europe.

The terrain here is much greener than the Peak District, and is a wide mixture of farmers fields, mountains, hills, moorland, forests, rivers and lakes.

The Peak District

The Peak District is located in the northern-central part of England, sitting directly beside the city of Manchester on it's Eastern side.

This park is mostly full of hills and sloped mountains, covered in moorland grass. There's also more reservoirs here, the most famous being Derwent Dam, known for being a popular training ground for Lancaster bombers when they were testing out the bouncing bomb.

It also has one of the most beautiful drives through the park too. Snake Pass, on the west side of the park coming from Manchester is a well-known road, known for its winding and "snake-like" appearance as you wrap around mountains. You actually follow a river upstream in a valley and arrive at 2 dams. It's also known for its high number of road accidents too.

Snowdonia

Snowdonia National Park, better known as "Eryri" (Er-ru-ree), is located on the north-western side of Wales 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿. It's also the biggest National Park in Wales, and the 3rd biggest in the UK. It's also home to Wales' biggest mountain, Mount Snowdon. Around half of the park homes about 9 mountain ranges.

I tend to visit this park the most often, and I also just spent a week-long holiday here within the National park, but towards the far West where the borders of the park meets the sea.

So for this headcanon to work, we're gonna need some fires 🔥🔥🔥 otherwise there'd be absolutely no point in this.

Now don't get me wrong, we're nothing like the US. US temperatures can be between at least 30 to 40°c in the summer, we often have summers around the low to mid 20's. We may even get as much as the late 20's to 30°C during a heatwave.

We don't get quite as hot as other countries but we have insanely high humidity which prevents things from cooling down, even in the shade or at night, due to the amount of warm moisture in the air - so it actually feels hotter than it is.

The UK has a wet, windy and cooler climate BUT we do have our fair share of wildfires.

The UK Forestry Commision released a report that covers a period between 2009/10 to 2021/22 of wildfires recorded in the UK.

Between this 12 year period, around 360,000 individual wildfires were recorded, and 79,000 acres of land had been impacted.

The majority of individual fires were classed as being "small", but there was 12,000 classed as "primary" big fires.

4,700 fires affected National Parks, and 11,000 impacted "Sites of Special Scientific Interest".

The most affected areas of land were agricultural land, woodland, and residential areas.

Throughout the report, there seemed to be a steady increase in fire incidents throughout the 12 years.

I even had my own first hand experience with a wildfire. In August 2023, there was a wildfire on a field which backs onto my back garden fence at the rear of the house. The grass fire initially started down by the brook right beside my house, very likely started by teenagers, either by a lit cigarette or a vape. Had the wind blown in a different direction, it would've reached us in a few minutes.

Luckily for me, the fire was blown East and it travelled away from my house and along the side of the field. The farmer at the time was growing straw that had since been harvested, so all the tiny straw spikes in the ground were dry and helped to fuel this fire and it spread quickly.

There were flames that did reach at least 8ft in places, but it was the heat and speed of the fire that was the most concerning. It took multiple fire engines and two tractors with flattening equipment behind them to eventually smother the fire, just as it reached the back garden fence of someone's house.

Just witnessing this made me realise how quick these grass fires can spread and just how scary it was if the wind had simply blown the other way.

And with that, comes my conclusion. With the facts and figures I've discussed in this post, I do have a little bit of logic to go with this headcanon of mine. It won't quite sit right with the film but it's not complete nonsense at least XD

Hope you enjoyed reading it :)

[deanwinchesterswitch]

When the Walls Come Down

Summary: Memories and longing chip away at the walls they built to protect their hearts, but as their defenses begin to crumble, shame and regret seep through the cracks threatening to leave love buried beneath the rubble.

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Angst; A tiny bit of fluff; Dean being Dean; Language; Implication of sex work; Canon divergence; Descriptions of high emotional distress; Possible triggers

Betas: @princessmisery666 and @wayward-and-worn

Word Count: 7,532

Part Two

Jody was kind enough to inform them of the other’s impending arrival. Jody didn’t tell them that Dean had texted the day before the get-together to say that Sam would be coming alone and that Y/N had called not ten minutes later with a lame excuse of her own for not attending. 

With Baby parked in the old barn to keep her safe from the elements, Dean picks the lock on the back door and sighs, remembering their conversations about the home he would build for them. Dropping his duffel just inside the door, he sets the cooler next to it and scrubs a hand down his face. After a quick look around, he heads out to check the perimeter and gather firewood.

Staring out the windshield of her truck, Y/N scans the area for movement. With no harbinger of untoward beings, supernatural or otherwise, she pulls her sketchbook and leather pencil case from her bag and slips out of the cab. The place appears to be a little more rundown since the last time she was here, and she takes a moment to assess the new damage.  

Settling on the truck’s hood, she begins sketching the cabin's exterior, adding a wrap-around porch, a large updated chimney, and landscaping. It’s unconscious at first, but as the graphite scratches over the paper, images taking shape on the blank pages, she soon realizes that she is drawing all the amenities Dean and she had discussed for their dream home.

It’s getting late, but he’s finally finished checking the warding around the property's perimeter. There seemed to be a few more than he remembered. Dean reflects on his decision to come here as he quickly gathers firewood on his way back to the cabin. 

He’d had every intention of going to Jody’s, hoping for a chance to talk, wanting to end the pattern of avoidance, even if that, ultimately, meant moving on without her. He’d prefer to see her safe and happy than to be completely removed from her life.

Yesterday, he’d awoken with an uneasiness churning in his gut and decided to take a drive to settle his nerves. When he unexpectedly found himself at the Kansas-Nebraska state line, he made another decision. As Baby’s engine loudly idled at a crossroads, he quickly texted Sam, then put the car in drive and headed Northwest.

At a stop to get fuel for Baby and himself, he texted Jody that he wouldn’t be able to make it after all and was going to use the lull in cases to check on the safe house in Montana.

A tear smudges the edge of the illustration just completed, a vignette of side-by-side rocking chairs. Swiping the back of her hand across her cheek, she flips the book closed, tucking it beneath her arm, and slides off the hood. The sun is getting low in the sky, and she needs to check the perimeter and collect firewood. Sliding her duffel from the bench seat, she slips the pencil case back inside, pulls a key from her pocket, and carefully makes her way across the decrepit porch to the front door.

Closing the door behind him as he enters the house, Dean stops in his tracks, hearing the creak of wood coming from the front porch. Setting the armful of logs on the floor, he pulls out his gun and quietly makes his way down the two steps to the main living area.

The door handle rattles and his senses go on high alert, but his heart plummets to his stomach when a key is slipped into the lock. He hadn’t considered that someone may have taken over the property after all these years.

The gun wavers in his hand at the sight of the person standing before him when the door swings open. “What the hell?” The purple flannel she stole from him hangs loosely on her frame, billowing in the breeze, the sleeves unevenly rolled, one hiding half of her hand, the other skimming above her wrist.

Hearing the muttered curse, the items she’s carrying hit the floor with a thud, the sketchpad falling open when it skitters to a stop between them as she quickly reaches for her gun.

“Hey, whoa. It’s me.” Dean’s hands are in the air, gun pointed at the ceiling as she stares him down over the barrel of her engraved Remington Rand, a gift from him for her thirtieth birthday.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she shouts. “You’re supposed to be at Jody’s.”

“So are you,” he challenges, brow cocked. He lifts his chin toward the gun still pointed at him, when she doesn’t respond. “Do you mind?” 

The silence stretches between them, each steeling themselves against the onslaught of emotions at seeing the other. When she finally lowers the weapon, re-engaging the safety before tucking it into the back of her jeans, he does the same. She bends to lift her duffel, and he steps forward, picking up the sketchbook. Fingers hovering as they follow the charcoal-colored lines, he grins at the images, “These are-”

“None of your business.”

His fingers narrowly miss being smashed between the pages as the book is roughly snapped shut and pulled from his hand.

She has one foot across the threshold before he can even say sorry. He needs to act quickly. It’s not what he planned, but it’s an opportunity he needs to take advantage of. “Wait. Don’t leave… please.”

The waver in his voice stops her mid-step. The words, reminiscent of her plea to his retreating steps almost a year ago, blindside her.

“You were here first.” She addresses the space in front of her, not daring to look at him for fear of turning into a weeping puddle of goo.

“The sun’s setting. You won’t be able to make it down the mountain before it gets dark.”

Few things genuinely scare her but driving down a narrow, overgrown mountain trail in the dark is high on the short-list. Dean experienced her anxiety firsthand while driving through the Appalachians en route to a hunt.

Though unprepared for the unexpected encounter, she knows it’s a chance for them to talk without prying eyes and ears around. Maybe an opportunity for her to finally come to terms with everything and let him go. Eyes closed, nails digging into her palm around the worn canvas strap, she inhales deeply, slowly expelling the air before turning to face him. “Fine. I’ll leave at first light.”

Making a wide arc around him, she drops her things next to the couch. Noticing the pile of firewood on the floor, she asks, “I’m guessing you’ve checked all the warding?” 

Dean nods, “Yeah, there’s a lot more than-“

Turning her back on him, she shrugs out of the flannel. Flinging it onto the nearest chair, she walks out the back door without another word. Simultaneously relieved and disappointed when he doesn’t try to stop her. Happy to see him but woefully unsure of what to say to him.

Deciding it might be best to give her a few minutes, he begins a search of the kitchen area, which reveals a set of matching dishes, silverware, pans, kitchen towels, and a stock of cleaning supplies. It all appears to be relatively new. A more thorough perusal of the cabin reveals additional changes. Cataloging the modifications, he wonders who was here last and how long ago. 

During his brief initial inspection, he’d noticed that the furniture had been covered against dust but had pushed it down his list as he needed to check the area outside before it became too dark. Dean’s curiosity is thrown into overdrive as he connects the dots with the fact that Y/N has a key. He figured that she knew of the safe house from Bobby but wasn’t aware that she had ever been here.

Dean sets about cleaning the dishware and uncovered surfaces and plugs the refrigerator back in, mulling over this newfound information and what it might mean. He glances out the window while wiping down the last countertop and catches sight of her wrapping her arms around herself. The sky is a watercolor background—a blaze of orange and fading pink, seeping into a twilight purple haze—to her silhouette that brings forth a memory he turns to when the nightmares threaten to overwhelm him.

She shivers against the cold as a gust of wind buffets the thin fabric of her shirt and chastises herself for removing the flannel she’d been wearing. It was a foolish, futile attempt to save face. The shirt is a crutch, a piece of him, something she turns to for comfort. He doesn’t need to know that, though. 

Rubbing her hands over her arms, as another burst of wind swirls around her, she decides to head back inside when she’s unexpectedly surrounded by warmth. It’s still surprising to her how someone so large can move so soundlessly. The plaid draped over her shoulders carries his scent, and emotions threaten to drown her.

Inhaling sharply, her jaw clenches, and her eyes squeeze shut against the tears that immediately spring forth. How many times had he done this for her? A small gesture followed by a kiss to the forehead or a quick embrace. One of his many ways of showing how much he cared about her… loved her—reduced to nothing more than a courtesy as he immediately moves away.

“I’m sorry.” Misinterpreting her reaction, Dean quickly steps back. She had tossed his other flannel aside like it meant nothing, apparently no longer giving her the comfort he knew it once had. Why would she accept this gesture? It hurts, but he understands that the small intimacies they once shared no longer hold the same meaning, but habit had made him act before thinking, the desire to ensure she was comfortable and cared for still ingrained in his psyche. “I couldn’t stand to watch you shiver one more time.”

A moment of stilted silence passes, and then a hesitant, hushed question. “You were watching me?”

“Not as creepily as that sounded,” he chuckles.

“Hmmm.” She gives him a faint smile, “Thanks,” grips the plackets, and then quickly looks away. 

There’s so much he wants to say, but he’s uncertain where to start. Taking it as a good sign that she didn’t throw the shirt back in his face, he presses on. “I saw you through the window.”

No shit, dumbass. Real smooth.

“You, uh, looked so beautiful framed by the sunset. It reminded me of that rest stop in the mountains. After that shit show in Oregon. You remember? You wanted to stretch your legs while Sammy and I sat at the picnic table chillin’ with a couple of brews.”

She remains guarded, and he grows nervous, rubbing his palms over the denim covering his thighs. The urge to turn and walk away is strong, and the thought of how easy it would be to blow this opportunity makes his mouth go dry and his heart thrash against his ribs, so he wills himself to stay put. Letting the memory and the fact that she hasn’t walked away bolster him.

Remember? 

She longs to tell him that she remembers every moment they’ve spent together, that she lets them play out in her head like a movie marathon, that those memories are what sustained her the first few months of missing him, fortified her, and kept her breathing. Yet, she remains silent, not ready to share and wanting to know why he’s dredging up memories that will surely break her heart all over again.

“I, uh…  When the sun started to set, I looked around to find you sitting on an outcropping, that beat-up tin of art supplies you carried everywhere right next to you, sketchbook in your lap, coloring away with those little paint stick thingies-”

She timidly laughs, and his heart swells at the sound. It’s an unexpected glimmer of hope that has his heart thudding for an entirely different reason and the corners of his mouth lifting in response.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpses his cautious smile. It warms her, gives her a sense of optimism, and she senses he’s hoping for more. She can hear the nervousness in his voice, spies how he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and realizes that she needs to engage so he doesn’t close himself off or misinterpret her silence. “Pastels,” she supplies, turning to lean back against the railing, eyes downcast as she slips her arms into the sleeves of the plaid, cuffs hanging well past her fingertips.

“Yes!” Snapping his fingers, his smile grows. “Pastels. Your fingers always looked like a muddy rainbow after using them, and you’d always wind up with a couple of streaks on your face that I’d have to clean off.” 

Just as she thought, the recounting of his memories spurs a surge of grief for the loss of his gentle touch, warm smile, and playful teasing as he would wipe the traces of color from her skin. Shifting on her feet, she closes in on herself. Crossing an arm over her chest, her hand grips tight around her bicep, fingers of her free hand fiddling with the hem of the flannel. 

Dean’s smile fades a little at her reaction, wondering if she’s thinking about those shared moments and dislikes being reminded of them or misses them as much as he does. Hopeful it’s the latter, he clears his throat and continues, “Uhm, anyway… you were sitting on that rock, framed by the glow of the setting sun. Just like now.” He tilts his head and runs a hand over the side of his neck. “It was one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen.” He nervously chuckles, “Just like, well… now.” 

Her smile widens as she bobs her head in acknowledgment and peeks at him from the corner of her eye. “Be still my heart. Did you turn this into a chick flick moment, Mr. Winchester?”

Ears tipped pink and hands stuffed into his pockets, Dean rocks back on his heels, twisting his mouth with a grunt. “Phffft. No. But pretty sure you did with that whole,” he waves a hand between them, “be still my heart, Mr. Winchester bullshit.”

His tentative smile is disarming, and a heated flush spreads over her skin. The toe of her boot kicks along the faded deck boards as she haphazardly rolls up the shirt’s sleeves in frustration. She looks out over the side yard and says, “We should probably talk.” It’s hushed, barely over a whisper, and with no immediate response, she wonders if he even heard her, and then in usual form...

A chuckle. “I thought we were.” His attempted joke falls flat. Pulse skittering with fear at the purse of her lips, he quickly tries to recover. “Shit, I’m sorry I-.” Voice strained and hushed, he moves closer, “I’d like that.”

As his hand lightly closes around hers, she flinches in surprise, fingers trembling as he raises it between them, and he inwardly sighs in relief when she doesn’t pull away. Gliding his fingers over her palm, he instructs, “Leave it up.” Teasing, “You never did learn how to do this properly,” as he rolls the right cuff.

“That’s because I liked the way you did it,” she murmurs, eyes glistening and intently fixed on his chest even as he wills her to look up at him.

Her statement confirms what Dean had often wondered, that she enjoyed the connection too, a random little moment of closeness that the two of them shared. To keep her from retreating into herself again, he goes for a neutral topic, “You know, I always thought you could make a living with your art,” as he moves on to the left sleeve.

The gentleness in his grip and tender brush of his fingers startles her, only to be followed by what feels like a settling of her soul, the relief of finally being home after a long journey. Lip trembling, she blinks back tears as he smoothes the fabric in place on the second sleeve, his comment drowned out by her thudding heart and the rush of blood in her ears as she silently pleads, don’t, don’t do it, please don’t do it, knowing that what’s coming will most certainly break her.

The tear that breaks free of the waterline at her lashes and her anguished expression give him pause—momentarily stopping him from completing the task the way he’d always done. It doesn’t feel right not to, though, so he bows his head.

A tender kiss on her wrist—a simple gesture executed in a single heartbeat.

Dean inhales deeply as his lips brush supple skin. She still wears the same perfume he bought her for their first anniversary. She rarely had an opportunity to use it, though. Only being able to wear it on a few occasions—the night he gave it to her, a couple of date nights, a dinner at Jody’s. She could wear it now whenever she wanted without fear of giving away her location to whatever monster they were hunting. It frays his edges a bit more, thinking she’s wearing it for someone else. 

The brush of his supple lips against her skin causes her heart to cease functioning, and the air in her lungs crystallizes as nerve endings flare. She imagines this is what it feels like to be sucked into a void, a split second of complete and utter inertia before her entire being twists and shatters. There’s no holding back the choked sob.

Lips lingering on her pulse, fearful eyes meet hers, and then he steps forward, tugging her arm until she’s secured against his chest, sheltered in his hold.

Hands fisting in the back of his Henley, arms crushing her body against his, her tears dampening the front of his shirt while his seep into her hair. The potent relief of once again being in the familiar embrace of the other forestalls further conversation.

The tears begin to wane, and confusion creeps in. She thought he had moved on, but his actions—the emotion swirling in his eyes, the gravitas behind his words as he recounted the memory, and the way he held her—spoke to something different. Emotions surge and crash, threatening to drown her as they fight for dominance or release. Wanting nothing more than to stay in the safety of his embrace, she resists the urge to cling to him. She releases the grip on his shirt and pushes back against his hold. So much needs to be said, so much guilt that needs to be addressed. A large, stiff drink is what she needs first, though. 

Dean reluctantly drops his arms to his sides when he feels her body shift and tense beneath his hands before she steps back out of his reach, wiping her face with the hem of the plaid. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. Truthfully, he’s a bit confused by her reaction. If she’s let him go and found someone else, is happy, why is she so upset? They need to talk. A hefty shot might help that along a bit.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he jokes, “I don’t think I’ve ever made a girl cry with a kiss before,” and receives a weak smile in return before an awkward silence falls between them as the sun sinks past the horizon.

“We should-“ They say simultaneously, followed by matching nervous chuckles. He opens the door and gestures for her to enter. Dean remains standing near the door after locking it while she moves to the middle of the room, neither sure what to do nor say, wondering what the display of emotions might portend. Each yearning for the connection once shared, the comfort of the other’s embrace, yet the fear of rejection blinds them to the regret and longing etched into the countenance of the other lovingly staring at them.

She startles when he claps his hands together. “Are you hungry?” he points to the cooler by the back door, “I can make some sandwiches.”

“Yeah. That… sounds good.” She nods, avoiding eye contact. “I, uh, have a cooler of food in the truck if you want to use anything from it. Just give me, uh…,” she gestures to her face, “then I’ll go get it.”

“Take your time. I can get it.” Dean practically sprints out the front door as she makes a beeline to the bathroom, firmly closing the door behind her.

Exiting the bathroom several minutes later, she finds her sleeping bag and spare blanket on the floor next to the fireplace, alongside the blankets from the Impala. 

“Figured you might want to sleep on those instead.” She turns to find Dean eyeing her as he sets two plates of food on the table and discerns that she spent more time in the bathroom shoring up her emotional walls than she thought.  “No tellin’ what might have crawled up into those mattresses after all this time.”

“Thanks,” she replies, walking over to the bunks closest to her, “but I replaced them all a few months ago. Left the plastic on to protect them,” and lifts the tarp to show him.

Dean’s shoulders slump slightly in disappointment, a brow arching in surprise. He’d hoped to have her lying beside him in front of the fireplace, even if it wasn’t how they’d imagined. “Were you staying here?” he asks, confused, his earlier musings coming back to him. “Hey, why do you have a key?”

“Bobby gave me a key after Rufus was k- died.”

Brow furrowed, he tilts his head in question, and she shrugs her reply.

“My lock-picking skills weren’t so great back then.”

“Huh. I never got a key,” he pouts.

Reminded of how expressive his face can be, she swallows the chuckle. The confusion and tinge of jealousy in his tone spur her curiosity about how he’ll react to her next declaration. “When I switched my mailing address to Jody’s, some paperwork finally caught up with me. Apparently, Rufus left it to Bobby, and then Bobby left it to me.” 

“You own the cabin now?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, still having difficulty believing it herself. Dropping the sheet back onto the mattress, she adds, “And, well, the surrounding forty acres, which include a lake.”

“F- forty acres? And a lake?” Expression highlighted with shock, he chuckles, “Well, damn, who knew Rufus was such a real estate mogul.”

“I know, right? Anyway, I, uh, I was going to mention this place the next time we talked… dreamt about getting out. I thought we could check into buying it. By the time I found out I already owned it, well…” His pained expression of understanding is too much to bear; she tucks her chin and runs her fingers along the bed frame.

“Me too,” he mutters. “I- I mean, I was going to suggest we check into this place. Thought it would be perfect for what we, uh, talked about. Didn’t realize we’d be looking at a mountain retreat.” She shrugs, lips pressed together in a tight smile.

Damn, none of his attempts at humor are hitting right.

She used to always laugh at his jokes, no matter how lame. The air around them becomes thick, almost stifling. Dean takes a step toward her, then stops, watching as she chews at her bottom lip, head bent, fingers nervously dancing over the metal bar. Every molecule of his body screams for him to pull her into his arms and never let her go again. Instead, he asks, “Beer?”

“Yes, thank you.” Seizing the change in subject with welcome relief, she offers him a soft smile. Her steps are controlled, willfully constrained to prevent herself from throwing herself at him, begging him never to leave her again and promising to do the same. Instead, she takes the seat opposite him at the table. 

Several minutes pass as they eat in silence, furtive glances cast between bites of food and sips of alcohol. When she can no longer bear the thick tension weighing on them, she asks, “So what did you tell Jody about why you weren’t going to be there?”

“Told her I was gonna check on the cabin since it had been so long.”

Nearly choking on the bite she just swallowed, the sandwich slips from her fingers, landing half off the plate. “So she knew you were coming here?”

“Yeah, why?”

“When did you tell her?”

Understanding takes a few seconds to sink in, and then he purses his lips. “Early yesterday. I take it you told her you were coming here too?”

“Yep, called her yesterday morning. She already knew one of us was coming here when she talked to the other.”

They share a chuckle over Jody’s sneaky but well-intentioned omission of information before falling silent again.

Shoving the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, Dean stands, plate in hand. “Are you done?” 

Pushing the unfinished half of the grilled ham and cheese she dropped earlier back onto the plate, she nods. 

“You sure? There’s no rush.” His hand hovers next to hers, another inch closer, and he’d be able to feel soft, smooth skin beneath the rough pads of his fingers, watch goosebumps rise on her skin as he skims them over the back of her hand and up her arm.

The heat he emanates warms the air around her. If she turned her hand, just so, she could caress the tender skin of his wrist, trace the vein, feel his pulse. Wondering if it’s as feverish and intense as hers, she pulls her hand into her lap and breathes, “Yeah. I’m done.”

Dean places her plate on top of his and picks up her empty beer bottle. When she tilts her head to smile at him, “Thank you. It was good,” she absently licks her lips, and his breath hitches. Surprised that the neck of the bottle doesn’t snap in his grip, he quickly turns toward the kitchen. Setting the dishes on the counter, he takes a moment to calm his breathing.

He pushed her away for a reason, and that hasn’t changed, but this is his chance to clear the air with her. Maybe, eventually, even become friends again. Fantasizing about kissing her, having her laid out beneath him, her hands roaming his heated flesh, is just that—a fantasy. It would only serve as a quick release followed by more anger and heartache. He can’t do that to her. Honestly, he’s not sure he can do it himself.

Even though he is the one that forced this upon them, he can’t deny the agony he felt when he came back in the pre-dawn to find her gone, that she never reached out to him in the aftermath, or that she hadn’t seemed to care about what was happening in his life. 

He knows how messed up that sounds; what a double standard it is. He lost count of the times his thumb hovered over her name in his contacts, but like now, he had no idea what to say to her, so he’d never called. No matter how much he longs for her to come home, to hold her as he falls asleep and wake to the warmth of her beside him, he knows she deserves better.

She sighs, watching the muscles in his back flex and tense seconds before his shoulders slump as he stares out the window. She knows exactly what he’s doing, what he’s thinking, but if there’s anyone to blame for this limbo they find themselves in, it’s her. There’s only one way to change it, and that is through. They will just have to deal with whatever is on the other side when they get there.

“Whiskey?” she asks with forced cheerfulness. “I brought the good stuff.” 

Dropping his head, Dean laughs, “Your timing is impeccable as always.” Tossing the empty bottles in the garbage, he turns to face her, a large smile plastered on his face. A smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. She accepts the gesture for what it is… a tentative olive branch. “Wanna grab some glasses?” She tips her chin toward the cupboard behind his right shoulder, heading toward her duffel.

The soft clunk of the tumblers being set on the table emphasizes the silence that again surrounds them. Though they didn’t always need words, they’d never had this much trouble talking to each other. She huffs out a breath as she again takes the seat opposite him. “So…  I heard you killed a shifter with that additive the Leviathans created?”

“Yeah, Vamptonite,” he gushes, happy dimples making a rare appearance.

“Let me guess… you named it.”

“Of course,” eyes rolling like he can’t believe she could think otherwise. “It works on werewolves and ghouls too.”

“Good to know,” she hums. 

They fact-check a couple of more stories between them. The single malt Macallan eases tensions and fortifies courage as walls begin to crumble.

“I heard you ran into a Chupacabra?”

She shakes her head, laughing. “Nah, just a rumor. Turned out to be a rabid dog. I stopped hunting after that. Guess you were right. I wasn’t cut out to be a hunter after all.” She didn’t mean to say it. She doesn’t want to start a fight. The words slipped from her lips before she even realized they’d formed. Dean shifts in his seat, and a lowly hissed ‘Shit’ has her scrambling to change the subject, her frazzled brain landing on something far worse, “Heard you were picking up waitresses again,” she attempts to tease. Regret is swift and severe. 

 “Son of a bitch.”

This time the expletive is harshly ground out between clenched teeth, and his hard, fixed features send her heart plummeting with the thought it must be true if he’s so angry about her knowing. Biting into her lip, she struggles not to tell him she takes it back, that she doesn’t care, doesn’t need to know.

“You know that’s a rumor, right?” He knows his tone is clipped, anger seeping into the fear around the silent plea for her not to believe what she’s heard. 

Hand shaking as she pours him a healthy shot, the neck of the bottle clinks against the glass. “Is it?” Again, remorse is swift. 

What happened to not needing to know?

Hearing the quiver of her voice, the uncertainty in those two simple words, he berates himself for not setting the record straight before it got back to her. It infuriates him to think about the twisted embellishments that were most likely added, another regret steamrolling over his chest at imagining how she must have felt hearing the gossip. 

Concerned that the tumbler he’s holding might shatter in his grasp, he loosens his hold and gently but deliberately pushes it to the side. Flexing his fingers, he leans forward, frustration setting in when she leans back, muscles tensing at his movement. “It is,” he huffs, trying to keep his voice steady. “I wouldn’t, couldn’t, do that.”

He scrutinizes her face, silently willing her to look at him, but her eyes remain focused on the drink she’s pouring for herself, filling the glass nearly to the brim. He watches in awe when she lifts it to her lips and swallows every drop in one go with not even a flinch before setting the cut crystal back on the table. Her thumb swipes the corner of her mouth to catch a wayward drop. Licking it clean, she declares, “I couldn’t blame you if you did.” 

Exasperation and outrage at her words quickly suppress the desire that swirls in his gut over the sexiness of the gesture. How can she possibly believe he would replace her so easily in his life, his bed? The realization that she doesn’t have any proof to the contrary hits like a gut punch. They’ve known each other for a long time. She knows his weaknesses and saw how he dealt with the tragedies and craziness of his life before her. Well… how he hid behind the vices of booze and sometimes women.

Man, this is fucked up.

The part of him that protects the tiny scrap of hope he keeps buried deep thought that even though he’d shunned her, she at least understood why he’d done it. 

Frustration swiftly turns to fear at the implication behind her words. Eyes narrowed, he scrutinizes her features. She’s gauging his reactions, either building her defenses back up to lessen her pain or testing the waters because there’s something she’s afraid to tell him—like maybe she has moved on. Maybe the teary-eyed outbursts are a final goodbye to the life they had, the loss of the dreams once shared.

That’s what he wanted. He’d pushed her out of his life so she could have one. So why does it feel like his heart has just been ripped from his chest by a wolf? The urge to grab her, hold her against him, lay his soul bare, and share his vulnerability with her again, is tempered only by the need to know where her feelings lie. So, even though he’s terrified of her response, he remarks, “I heard you moved in with some douche named Coop.”

A laugh bubbles at his play on words but is quickly quashed. “His name is Cooper,” she guardedly replies. Hurt still encases hope, but she’s eager to finally be able to tell him—the only person she ever wanted to share it with—what’s been happening in her life. “You should see the place. It’s huge. Oh, and the pay is phenomenal.” Pulling her phone from her pocket, she misses his change in expression.

“Wh- What?”

“He even introduced me to some of his friends.” Rising excitement as she searches for the pictures she wants to show him obscures the edge in his tone. “The places I’ve been to, the things I’ve gotten to do… amazing, but so ridiculously over the top. You would have loved the working horse ranch. Straight out of the wild west.”

She spares him a quick smile before going back to scrolling. “And don’t even get me started on the bar and restaurant VIP perks. We could eat for an entire month on what they spend in a night. I had to get used to the fancy clothes. It’s been years since I’ve worn a cocktail dress and heels. I never thought I could get paid for something I love doing. Well, I knew I could get paid for doing it. Although, I never thought I could garner such high fees or that my services would be in such demand. Ah, here we go.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” The words explode from him, filling the entire cabin with his rage.

Inhaling a sharp breath, she slowly raises her head. The tense stillness, cold, set features and harsh tone evoke the night her heart went up in flames, and the gleam of elation and hope are reduced to cinder. “W-what?”

Anger writhes in his gut, slithering through vein and muscle, coiling around bone. She can’t be doing what he thinks she’s doing. Can she? Shit, this is his fault. He shut her out, left her on her own, and made her feel worthless. 

Confusion is evident in her features as she cuts off his spiraling thoughts. “Wait. What do you think I’m doing?” 

He can’t bring himself to actually say the words, so he glares at her, brow rising and face contorted in a ��you know exactly what I’m thinking�� expression. 

Narrowing her eyes, she rapidly tries to decipher their conversation, and shock ripples through her as he raps his knuckles on the table, solidifying her comprehension. “No, th-” 

Guilt and the need to alleviate his concerns momentarily rise, but his implied accusation fans the smoldering embers of the pain and grief she thought had been snuffed out. Flames of anger spark and flicker, igniting the ashes of her heart, blindly driving her to dig at his vulnerability. 

“For whatever they request,” she calmly replies, raising a brow of her own.

Dean’s eyes narrow, his top lip twitching with rage. She knows nothing good will come of it, but the damned up emotions break through the levee. 

“I don’t want for anything—private beaches, yachts, spa treatments, luxury suites. No more crappy diner food,” she flicks a hand toward the bottle between them, “or rot-gut alcohol. No more slumming in shitty motel rooms.” Though the words belie her true feelings, she’s no longer in control of how they spill out of her and derides, “or living out of a car,” pulse rate jumping with the intake of his breath.

Never once did he imagine his actions would lead to this outcome. Guilt, shame, and fury slither and twist to skewer his heart and snarl in his brain. It’s his fault, he doesn’t blame her, but he’s angry with her. Angry at himself, the world, and the life he’s stuck in. The thought of her with another guy was one thing, but this… He sees red at the thought of how many… 

Wood cracks beneath the slam of his fist, and a glass shatters against a wooden cabinet after being viciously swiped from the table. “Well, it sounds like I did you a favor by kicking you out. Gave you a chance to make yourself a happy little life. Livin’ high on the hog without a care in the world.” 

The clench of his jaw and the sadness in his eyes fleetingly register, but her rage is blistering, ablaze beneath her skin. Slamming her fists on the table, she sneers. “You know, for someone so smart, you can be an utter dumbass sometimes.” Dean blinks at her, confusion knocking his anger back a bit. “FUCK YOU!” she shouts, knocking her chair over as she stands. His confusion morphs into offense, mouth agape in shock. She would have laughed, under different circumstances, but there’s no solid ground where her feelings can safely land. Before he can formulate any words, she unleashes the teeming tsunami of emotions she’s floundering in.

“You think you did me a favor? That I didn’t struggle? That there was no PAIN? You didn’t GIVE me ANYTHING! YOU TOOK FROM ME!” Chest heaving, nails digging into her palms, she huffs out a breath, a wasted attempt to try and rein in some of the more volatile feelings. 

“How did you picture everything going? You didn’t think about the aftermath, did you? DID YOU?” she accuses. “Your only thought was that I would be better off without you. That somehow I would be happier… safer… no longer have a target on my back. What you failed to realize is that none of those things could ever possibly happen. We made promises to each other, you and I. We promised to trust, love one another unconditionally, and keep each other safe. To always have each other’s back.”

She paces, no longer able to keep her vibrating limbs still. “Do you honestly think I was safer without you around? I didn’t feel safer when Crowley showed up with Juliette in tow at the summer camp where I was teaching a drawing class. Not when those yahoos, Walt and Roy, initially mistook me for the shifter I discovered on that ranch in Colorado. And certainly not when I had to take out a wraith on my own in Chicago because no one could get there soon enough to help. YOU DIDN’T HAVE MY BACK FOR ANY OF THAT!” 

Lips flinching like a fish out of water, he blinks, dumbstruck. There are no words to describe how badly he’s fucked things up. He rubs his hands over his thighs before clenching them into fists as his focus briefly drifts to Walt and Roy. He should have beaten the shit out of both of them when he had the chance. They won’t get off so easy the next time he sees them.

The heavy scrape of wood on wood draws his attention back to her as she rights the chair. Struggling to comprehend how quickly they went from the tentative but encouraging inroads they were making to… this, he closes his eyes, sharply inhaling as she continues.

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I’m not doing what you think I am.” Tears form in her eyes as she stares him down and quietly states, “And I certainly wasn’t happier without you.”

No amount of torture would ever match the pain he currently feels. All he’d wanted was for her to have what he couldn’t give her. Instead, he released her into a world of danger and uncertainty, offered her up on a silver platter to any supernatural being gunning for him. If she had been injured… or worse… The blame would lie entirely on his shoulders. Standing, he quickly slips around the table, “Y/N, I-” faltering when he reaches for her, and she steps back.

“No.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t want an apology. I don’t want to hear your reasons why. I know what they are. I excused the pain caused, tempering it with that knowledge and my own guilt. And here we are!” 

With a shaky breath, she states. “Get out.”

Dean scrubs a hand down his face, unsure what to do. He’s screwed up royally. If he leaves, he might not get another chance to fix it, and that scares him. He holds out his hand one more time, “I don’t-” and she roughly slaps it away.

“You don’t even see it. You’re so blinded by all the crap you carry around. The labels and responsibilities that were forced upon you. You sacrificed your life and continue to do so every day but refuse to acknowledge that others would do the same for you. They love you. I love you. Every one of us would sacrifice for you because your life matters too, but you can’t accept that. THE Dean Winchester doesn’t need anyone because ‘Everyone’s going to die or leave me.’ So, you push people away. You pushed me away.” 

Anger incites the words, though pain­—heartache—is the driving force. “Yeah, and you left.”

“I didn’t want to leave! I didn’t want a life without you in it! I still don’t,” she throws her hands up in frustration. Panting, she stares at the ceiling, hands on her hips, rocking on her feet. 

As with the night that laid the foundation of all their suffering, she doesn’t want to fight with him. Lashing out serves no purpose. Unlike that night, she can’t ignore the sadness and frustration, the resentment and regret that have built like a steam train picking up speed initiated by his actions. She simply wants to make the stubborn jackass understand why it has culminated in… this. 

“You did this to us.” Voice quivering, she wraps her arms around her waist to hide the shaking in her hands. “Get out of my house.” There’s a finality to the words that surprises both of them. 

She doesn’t want him to leave, not really, but she can’t think straight. Mind, heart, and soul are all cleaved cleanly in two. Warring, yet scrambling to stitch themselves back together. Despising the desire to feel the comfort of his arms, yet craving his touch… his warmth… his love. She needs a moment. Just a moment. 

“NOW!”

“I am sorry,” he whispers, turning to leave. 

His feet drag across the floor, hoping she’ll call after him to stay. The epiphany that this is how she must have felt when he destroyed everything good they had together rolls over him like a freight train of devastation. The jagged edges of his heart beg to be mended, smoothed over, and sealed together. 

Had he learned nothing over the years? When had keeping those he cared most about at arm’s length ever worked out? Hadn’t it only ever made him miserable and left them vulnerable and sometimes on the verge of death? What made him think this time would be any different? How did he convince himself that his actions would have no negative consequences for her? Why hadn’t he stopped himself when he knew it was wrong? 

Knowing the answers is no consolation. As much as he tries to control it, the anger is always simmering, so ready to punch through, eager to take control and keep the suffering masked, making it easier to let go than try and hold on. He hates himself for giving in to that compulsion. He deserves this, not her forgiveness or love, but her ire.  

Despite the bitterness of loss, there is a palpable sense of happiness. She survived. She’s free from hunting and living a good life, even if it’s not in the way he imagined. 

But why the hell hadn’t anyone told him what she was doing or about the danger she’d been in? 

Thoughts conflicted, a violent collision of anguish and acceptance, he tries to process it all. He needs time. Just a bit of time.

The front door clicks shut.

Part Four

Love Me Some Pie

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[mary-queen-of-longbeach]

Behold, the true monarch of the ocean: RMS Queen Mary! She may well be the world’s most beloved ocean liner barring, of course, Titanic; her existence has touched lives the world over and she continues to be a cultural staple today. She’s high up on my list of favorite ships, and as such I decided to draw her not as a gijinka, not in her current hotel-slash-attraction form, but as the record-breaking liner she was built to be. Here she is, thundering across the waves, racing the sky itself as she sets a new speed record for Britain and Cunard.

And, of course, here are the notes:

I started this drawing more than a year and a half ago, in the spring of my first year at college. For context, as of posting this it’s the fall semester of my third year, so quite a bit of time has passed. The piece was stalled for so long because coloring the hull was so daunting - I didn’t want to mess anything up, and I knew it would require a lot of graphite!

Originally, this was going to be a fully inked and colored piece. However, the way I shaded the hawsepipe and the top of the funnel just looked too nice to erase or color over, so I switched to making it a pencil-only piece instead.

Despite how realistic I made the drawing, there are some elements that are missing or otherwise incorrect. The horizonal poles (which I believe are cargo booms) attached to the foremast are absent; you should be able to see one of them from this angle, but I left it out because, when I first started the drawing, I wanted to simplify things slightly. I ultimately changed my mind, but by then it was too late in the process to add that in. That’s also the case with the simplified instruments on top of the bridge.

The rigging is simplified, but I tried to be accurate with the stuff I did add.

I made the smoke and water look like that by coloring them in normally and then smudging the pencil with my fingers. Then I added darker areas in the smoke for shading, and finally I used an eraser to make the lighter parts in both the smoke and water. Realistically, Queen Mary wouldn’t have actually produced such a dramatic smoke plume, as she was an oil-fired ship rather than a coal-fired one, but the bigger cloud looked cooler and more dynamic. Also, the smoke should be blowing backward, but it isn’t for similar artistic-license reasons; this, at least, can be explained by saying she must be sailing in some pretty strong wind!

I was originally planning to smudge the hull too in order to smooth out the coloring, but I changed my mind.

I based the drawing on this photograph!

[arunneronthird]

different anon, but wow, color theory is awesome. I always wanted to learn more about it but I always got so confused (which is why I mainly just draw with a graphite pencil on paper with no color involved), but I'm getting off track. I was just wondering if there was a certain strategy to getting colors to look like other colors (the yellow and blue looking like green), or is it just a bunch of guess and check?

welp i havent studied art so this is complete trial and error on my part and i dont really know art terms, but i can try and explain how i see things in a v basic way

i see it as pulling from one side of the wheel, and since i like red and blue, i pull from the left/down corner

therefore, green will either go counterclock-wise if its closer to yellow, like military green, and become yellow or even orange, and it will go clock-wise if its a forest green and become blue, following this, yellows will border on orange for me

important, when moving colors, ive noticed i have to desaturate them a lot for the eye to read them as the color i want to reflect

so imagine i want to draw a robin, and i want him to wear a bluish kind of green cause the strong green they wear pains me, that green will become a desaturated blue:

if i want to draw a lime kind of green (for some reason cause i do not like lime green) it will become desaturated yellow or orange:

when i want a warmer drawing, i tend to move blues clock-wise and greens counterclock-wise, when i want a cooler drawing, greens move clock-wise and blues stay as is

this method can be improved upon cause im no expert, but u can experiment by pulling from a different side of the wheel and not being part of the green hating club

[dyrewrites]

Before Deluca -- Memories in Blue pt.2

Yet when I reached him, all I could do was watch from beside the bed—careful not to touch the mattress, not to wake him—and think too loudly of how desperately I wanted to capture that face. Peaceful though he wasn’t—even while sleeping, as far as I’d noticed—there was something close to a smile on his lips. Something like serenity in those honeyed brows. And his curls, still loose, still wild, draped perfectly to frame him...

Without opening his eyes, Lucient heard my want, caught me staring and that smooth, rich voice sang, unaffected by sleep, “Your tools are in that box in the corner, treasure, sketch whatever you like…quietly if you could.”

“My tools,” I asked, glancing around the room, “How do you have—”

He sighed, shuffling beneath the sheets, “The same way I do your clothing and spare shoes, there are even a few of your works in the box,” opening a single eye he added, “those worth saving,” before snuggling deeper into the blanket, “now chut. I am exhausted and this face is no accident.”

I scoffed, “You need your beauty sleep?”

“Chut,” he shot back, keeping those cool eyes closed.

So, leaving the beauty to his sleep, I searched for the box he indicated. And it blended so well with the wall I wondered if it were on purpose.

“Wonder quieter, treasure,”Lucient called from the bed.

Chuckling, I tried to keep my thoughts quiet and dug into what were certainly my things. In that box were hunks of graphite in various sizes, as well as my holder, my pens and ink, even a sheaf of paper. All arranged neatly in a case too nice to be mine.

My Mistress', Lucient whispered into my thoughts, and you're still too loud.

Ignoring him, I sought the works he mentioned and there were no few, he had all the sketches I'd hidden in my closet. Not many, to be honest, most I had destroyed to keep my mother from learning how often I drew dockworkers. But he had saved all the rest, including my quick and messy figures, my thumbnails for planned landscapes, and various studies of faces and hands.

Careful not to wonder too loudly, not to ask, I brought the tool case back to the bed and got as comfortable as I could without disturbing his position.

With his curls yet framing the curves and angles of that beautiful face it wasn't difficult to decide where to begin. But the expression, well, he often appeared pained in sleep and right then it was mixed with annoyance of my interruptions. I would have to fix that which would, of course, ruin my chance to sketch him that day.

Moving my case to the foot of the bed, I abandoned my plans and crawled to him, kissing his forehead, “Pardon, mon rêve, I will allow you to rest.”

He grabbed me as I tried, opening those eyes to glare, though he smiled with it, “you speak my tongue so sweetly and expect to leave?”

Laughing, I covered him in more kisses, pulling the covers up to snuggle next to him, “I can stay, if you prefer.”

He kissed my neck as he spoke, voice adopting a cooing tone, “I demand.”

But as his hands grabbed for my back I grabbed his face, “None of that now.”

Closing his eyes, swooning with the heat of me, he pouted at my words and rolled over, “Then keep that deliciously warm skin away from my hands.”

“Or,” wrapping my arms around his, I made sure to grab his hands in mine, pinning them to his chest, “I keep mine closer.”

He wriggled tighter against me, sighing, “Mm, yes that will do.”

While not tired, the cool of him against me, the cooler warmth of the sheets and the mixed peculiarity—horror, terror, gnawing dread—I wasn't prepared to face did wear on me. So we slept, quiet, cuddled close and wonderfully entwined. And though I couldn't see it, with him so tight against my chest, as he relaxed in my arms I imagined he was smiling.

[hazelminesims]

Hi! Your game is just stunning. I am looking to upgrade my Sims set-up, curious if you would mind sharing what computer you use for gaming?

Heyy...thank you so much!!

I built my pc with my hubby. I chose all the parts/software and he put everything together. I have 2 SSDs - one for Windows + Photoshop and the other is for Sims 4 and other games I play. There have been some upgrades since I built it in 2016. I started off with a 980 TI video card, 32GB ram, and 1 SSD + 1 HDD.

CPU: Intel Core i9-12900K 3.2 GHz 16-Core Processor

CPU Cooler: Noctua NH-U12S 55 CFM CPU Cooler

Motherboard: Asus ROG STRIX Z690-E GAMING WIFI ATX LGA1700 Motherboard

Memory (RAM): 64GB - (2) G.Skill Trident Z5 RGB 32 GB DDR5-6000 CL36 Memory

Storage: Western Digital WD_BLACK 2 TB 3.5" 7200 RPM Internal Hard Drive

Storage: (2) Samsung 860 Evo 1 TB 2.5" Solid State Drive

Video Card: EVGA XC3 ULTRA GAMING GeForce RTX 3090 24 GB Video Card

Case: Corsair Graphite Series 760T ATX Full Tower Case

Power Supply: EVGA SuperNOVA 1000 G3 1000 W 80+ Gold Certified Fully Modular ATX Power Supply

Operating System: Microsoft Windows 10 Home OEM - DVD 64-bit

Monitor: Asus PG279Q ROG Swift 27.0" 2560 x 1440 165 Hz

[jyou-no-sonoko19]

Hey. I love your art and the style, I admire them very much.

I'm still a newbie in art. when I saw your artwork first things got me was the strong lines and volume and made me to think how can I add more volume to mine to look less flat? all my works look very flat, and the lines lacks any energy, so any tip that can help me would be great!

Hi, thanks very much! It's such a treat when someone says they enjoy my style!

As to my lines, the main thing to note is that they're traditional, either graphite or ballpoint ink, which I then scan in to colour. And beyond that, my number one rule is to Stay Loose when you're first sketching. So don't sit with your nib locked in place, but rather draw with as much of your arm as you can (this is why it helps drawing on an A4 piece of paper on a desk, so I'm not confined by a screen). Let the lines overlap each other where they need to be darker, if you want to emphasise a certain region's contour, add some more lines!

Here's a lil zoom on my most recent portrait that shows off the method:

All the scritchy-scratchy lines provide a loose 'context' for the shapes, but then extra lines come in to reinforce the truly important contouring and convince the eye of the whole thing.

As to the "volume", I'm guessing you mean how I show depth by shading? Once again I always try to stay loosey-goosey, and really not focus too much on where strokes end up until the very end. To encourage this behaviour, I use a fairly large brush head (basic hard, round brush in PS) at varying opacity, and treat it like real paint, just approaching each thing I'm focussing on (like lips for example) with various angles of stroke until the core of it feels deep.

Make a colour palette as soon as you start the art! This will decide what overall tone your art has, as well as giving you easy access to colour picking as you paint, just like a physical artist's palette. I give it its own layer at the very top (so that it's not affected by any other layers). First, choose your middle colour, then darken one part of it like 50%, pale one part by the same, and if you want to, make even darker and paler portions. Then duplicate the palette and invert the colours. This will give you a set of secondary colours (either warmer or cooler) that will automatically fit in with your main colours -- Hacks!! You can use these colours to add depth and mood to your piece, by shading with them rather than the primary palette.

All that said, my shading process works like this:

(2.1 - I often add blush to a face at this point, as that ends up with a less even, more human feeling to the skin. )

1- base level: This is the colour of the area, the one you'd either pick with a colour picker, or what you'd try to eyeball as someone's middle-most skin-tone.

2- gradient: This layer is optional, but if I'm trying to get a realistic depth rather than more cartoony, I'll do this layer. It subtly follows the shape of the object, and probably won't be very visible until it's layered by the next shading level. Set this layer to multiply.

( 3.2 - make-up!! As a treat, it really gives me something fun to do early on.)

3- first shadows: Here is where I start defining the details, first with a brush that might seem way too big for the space -- but it's set to low opacity, so you don't have to worry! This is working from biggest brush to smallest, as you get closer and closer to the focal point of each stroke. This layer can be set to a basic multiply too, but if I'm going for something more dramatic, I'll use linear burn.

4- secondary shadow: This layer is where you gotta be a bit brave! When one is shading, it's easy to be too subtle, to make something look realistic. But then at the end, you find it's so subtle that it can look flat! Focus on the deepest folds in the image, including where areas are draped over (like the back of the neck, where hair is most solid).

5 - primary highlights: Here's where things feel properly Shaped for me! Where the skin is tightest across the flesh (so over bones or cartilage), we can throw some bouncy light to bring it to life! Don't worry about going overboard here, just use the Screen or Linear Light setting while painting, so you can see clearly what you're doing, then change it to a more fitting blend mode later if you need to.

One option is to choose a unifying colour, add it as its own layer, then toy with the layer setting (multiply/overlay/hard light etc) and its opacity, to get a feeling you like. Don't stop there tho! It might make things a bit flattened. So then you want to go into the Levels or contrast settings, and bring back some of those lighting curves!

6 - secondary highlights/ eyelights: This is for any surfaces that are especially shiny, or are getting secondary lighting from something around them. With this art that wasn't the case -- I had intended to do some sunlight hitting her from ahead, but then forgot lol

(And yes my eyelights were on all the screenshots already, sorry, I do them first so my art isn't staring all creepy at me)

7 - unifying and balancing (optional): Say you've done a great job with your palette and everything looks balanced, but you *still* feel like it could hang together better, or you just want to make sure. I generally make a ton of versions of my pieces, so I'll use a combination of methods as I play.

In the case of this piece, I added a peachy tone set to Overlay mode at 10% opacity, to soften everything (subtle, but it's there!).

As well as adding tint layers, you should also go into the Colour Balancer menu, to give yourself a more accurate sense of whether you're going overboard with your warm or cool tones in the high, low or mids. Often even if I think things are really well balanced, I can end up looking at that menu and realising that my shadows are WAY too red, and dialling it back can give a more natural tone. Staring at a piece for hours and hours can make it really hard to tell without this tool.

Using the colour balance menu, I came up with this very satisfying version:

I hope that was helpful, and that you'll link me to any thing you'd like me to check out in specific. (^_^)b

[omegagraphite]

Graphite

Omega graphite is a well-known company for Manufacturers and suppliers of graphite in Mumbai, India graphite is widely used in various industrial applications due to its unique properties, including high thermal conductivity, chemical resistance, and low friction. Graphite equipment, such as heat exchangers, absorbers, and distillation columns, can provide excellent performance in demanding environments where corrosion resistance and thermal efficiency are critical.

Call Us: +919820045787 | Email Us: info@omegagraphite.com | Visit Our Website: https://www.omegagraphite.com/

[golfruso]

A Comprehensive Guide to Ben Sayers Golf Equipment – Quality, Heritage, and Innovation

Ben Sayers is one of the most highly regarded and oldest brands in the world of golf. Known to fashion reliable and high-quality equipment, Ben Sayers offers a wide range for golf clubs, bags, and accessories specifically fitted to the amateur and professional golfer. This guide discusses its legacy, equipment offerings from the brand, and why it remains trusted by many golfers.

Legacy of Ben Sayers

Ben Sayers was founded back in 1873 in North Berwick, Scotland, and is considered one of the oldest golf equipment manufacturers in the world. The company took his name from Ben Sayers himself, who was a brilliant golfer and a maker of golf clubs. He started making clubs that showed great skill and attention to detail in the field. His artistry and competitive spirit brought many modern technologies and standards into golf as it is known today.

Over the years, Ben Sayers earned its name in the industry through the continuous release of innovatory designs of the club and novelty in golfing technology, such as the production of the very first rubber-core golf balls, among designing other clubs that featured many of his innovative, patented designs. For this reason, it has continued in innovating and giving cost-effective, high-quality gear to players at all levels, hence ensuring its legacy lives on within the modern world of golf.

Range of Ben Sayers Golf Clubs

Ben Sayers offers everything from entry-level complete sets up to individual mid-range clubs and even advanced premium sets. Their clubs are designed to emphasize balance, control, and distance in order to help one improve their game while enjoying a more reliable, comfortable experience.

a. Ben Sayers M8 Package Set

The M8 Package Set is one of the most popular deals from this brand, considered especially great for both beginners and players of average skills. This set includes a driver, fairway woods, hybrids, irons, and a putter-everything one may need for a full game. It boasts graphite shafts with lightweight handling and has an oversized clubhead, allowing players to have a more forgiving hit. It's perfect for anyone who's looking for a complete starter kit that balances affordability with quality.

b. Ben Sayers XF Pro Range

The XF Pro range is made for those seeking functionality on the golf course. An example is the XF Pro iron, which outsets a cavity back design-thus, offering forgiveness while finding an increment in precision. The range offers drivers, each with adjustable loft options, thereby enabling players to dial into their ideal launch angle for maximum distance and accuracy.

c. Ben Sayers XF Red and XF Black Series

The XF series caters to mid- to high-handicap golfers, with special clubhead designs that enhance forgiveness. The XF Black driver features an enlarged clubface and higher MOI to assist in hitting straighter shots even on off-center hits. In the XF Red and Black series irons, deep undercut cavities lower the center of gravity and make the clubs easier to hit and power up for control.

Ben Sayers Golf Bags and Accessories

Ben Sayers produces a line of golf bags and accessories to complement their clubs by offering great convenience in style to a golfer.

a. Ben Sayers Stand Bags

Ben Sayers stand bags are very hard-wearing, light, and offer ample storage. Most come with various pockets, such as a valuables pocket, an insulated cooler pocket, and even an umbrella holder. The dual-strap design means comfort is ensured, enabling a golfer to tote their bag around on course with ease.

b. Ben Sayers Cart Bags

Ben Sayers cart bags are for those who rely on a golf cart to get them around the course. These are larger than stand bags and thus offer extra storage. With fully featured options with a 14-way divider to a rain hood, they are also very light, making it very easy to maneuver them with ease.

c. Ben Sayers Accessories

From gloves to headcovers to umbrellas, Ben Sayers have a range of accessories intended to enhance the whole experience of playing golf. Its accessories are fashioned in quality material that makes them durable and practical in design, hence valuable to add into any golfer's collection.

Why Buy Ben Sayers?

Choosing Ben Sayers means knowing one is sticking with a brand deeply rooted in the game, all while keeping up with the latest golfing innovation. Here's why Ben Sayers remains a top choice for golfers:

a. Heritage and Trust

With over a century of service, Ben Sayers is one of those names that spells class and reliability in the game of golf. The commitment to high standards and consistency places it as a brand one could reliably count upon at all levels of play.

b. Quality at an Affordable Level

The Ben Sayers is one of the few companies in the industry of golf equipment that makes such quality equipment highly accessible to all classes. Its excellent value at a reasonable price has made it quite popular among amateur, medium-ranking, and experienced golfers who need performance without the higher costs associated with other leading brands.

c. Innovation in Design and Technology

While Ben Sayers respects its heritage, in practice the brand keeps up with the times to seek new technologies that would allow an improvement in performance. From the ergonomic design of their bags to the forgiving nature of their clubs, Ben Sayers' products are toward the betterment of golfers everywhere.

Ben Sayers Golf Equipment: Worth It at Various Levels of Skill

Ben Sayers has options for each different level of skill to ensure that even the most fledgling, intermediate, and advanced players will have something within their grasp.

a. For Beginners

The various Ben Sayers complete package sets, for example the M8, would be particularly ideal for beginners. These would include all the necessary clubs and are highly forgiving thus perfect for beginners learning swing control.

b. For Intermediate Players

The intermediate players will greatly benefit from Ben Sayers' XF Pro and XF series. To illustrate, the pro series allows for more control and accuracy, enabling players to gain more information about how their skills are developing .

c. For Advanced Players

Although Ben Sayers is known as a company that caters to low- and mid-handicappers, advanced players can still appreciate the quality of their clubs, especially in the XF Pro range. A combination of adjustable drivers with forgiving irons enables the advanced players to control the game a lot easier and find maximum distance.

FAQs

Q1: What makes Ben Sayers golf clubs perfect for beginners?

The Ben Sayers' line of golf clubs is highly recognized for being forgiving, lightweight, and affordable, thus being perfect for beginners. Clubs like the M8 set help provide all the main needs required for one to start playing, assisting beginners in controlling their shots to build confidence in courses.

Q2: Will Ben Sayers clubs be good for low-handicap golfers?

Generally, Ben Sayers clubs cater to the beginning and intermediate golfer; however, their XF Pro range provides different options for those higher-skilled golfers. More advanced golfers that like forgiveness and control with their clubs may find the Ben Sayers equipment quite suitable for their game.

Q3: How is the quality of Ben Sayers versus the other leading brands?

Ben Sayers produces very high-quality equipment, mostly performance-oriented, durable, and at least in the entry to mid-range category. Where the Callaway or Titleist company would probably sell the high-end options, Ben Sayers offers great value for money-the person who is hunting for quality but does not want it to come at a hefty price.

Q4: What is the difference between Ben Sayers XF Red and XF Black series?

Both the XF Red and XF Black series are designed for forgiving clubs for golf players. The XF Black series driver, for instance, contains a higher MOI that makes it simpler to hit straighter shots. Both series are for forgiveness; though some players might prefer one series to the other because of feel and design preference.

Q5: Does Ben Sayers sell their clubs individually, or does it have to be bought in a set?

Of course, Ben Sayers offers complete sets and even some individual clubs can be selected separately for golfers. The M8 set can be bought as a full package but in XF Pro series the irons and drivers are available individually so as to provide mixing and matching.

Conclusion

The Ben Sayers brand has also stood the test of time, leveraging the perfect blend of heritage and innovation to provide quality golf equipment. Be it a complete beginner who is looking to buy his first set or an intermediate player looking to enhance his game-the choice of Ben Sayers can never go amiss. With Ben Sayers, it's easy to get on the game and start to improve with its affordable pricing, reliable performance, and designs crafted for forgiveness and control.

[etimaterials-blog]

What can Niobium be used for

Niobium is special because its high level of corrosion resistance is achieved at a relatively low weight. In the chemical industry, niobium is a high-quality acid and liquid metal corrosion resistant material that can be used in cooking machines heaters and coolers.

Based on its high transition temperature, niobium is the perfect material for superconducting cables and magnets.

Based on its high level of biocompatibility, niobium is also used as a material for implants.

We also use this material to manufacture coin of all colors, corrosion-resistant evaporation boats and dimensionally stable crucibles for diamond growth.

Niobium is used in the casting industry; it is mainly used to form a hard carbide and change of graphite morphology & size. They are used in the manufacture of automotive cylinder head, piston ring and brake etc.

Niobium can increase the transmittance of lenses, is also used in the manufacture of lenses in the optical industry.

Nb is also found in the lighting industry, such as Nb-1%Zr alloy can be used for producing precision support of high strength sodium vapor lamp, these small parts have excellent heat resistance to sodium vapor corrosion.

Another important application of Niobium is to use the material to make niobium rod. It is worked cold from ingot to final diameter. Forging, swaging, and drawing are used singularly or in combination to reach the desired size.

Niobium acid is also an important catalyst.

https://www.edge-techind.com/category/Niobium-21-1.html

https://www.etimaterials.org/niobium/niobium-rod/

[longlistshort]

“Earth Lament”, 2023, Pigment and pencil on Aquacryl on canvas and aluminium (and detail)

“So Far So Near”, 2024, Pigment and pencil on Aquacryl on canvas and aluminium (and detail)

“Cicada”, 2023, Pigment and pencil on Aquacryl on canvas and aluminium

Currently at Lisson Gallery is Shirazeh Houshiary: The Sound of One Hand, an exhibition of the artist’s new and recent work. For the paintings she combined distinct color formations with intricate patterns drawn on the surface using pencil. The details are astounding when seen up close.

From the press release-

For her first solo show in Los Angeles for over a decade, the British artist Shirazeh Houshiary presents new and recent works, exploring the origins of life and the mysteries of the cosmos, from a microscopic cellular level, to the stratospheric phenomenon of the aurora borealis. The show’s title relates to a Zen Buddhist teaching that instructs the student to listen to the sound of one hand clapping, in order to open their mind to such a possibility and transcend the constraints of the physical body. Despite not being a Zen practitioner, Houshiary realised that her work revolves around the insistent sound made by one of her hands, making tiny, looping, scratched marks in pencil onto large aluminum surfaces, building up worlds through the silence of her inscribed words.

Houshiary’s abstract paintings emerge from an initial pour of liquid color that floods the surface in irregular pools, before she then covers these areas with her own calligraphic gestures in graphite, which are in fact tiny repetitions of the Arabic phrases: “I am” and “I am not”, which she also likens to the natural act of inhaling and exhaling. For one of the two largest works in the show, entitled Enchanter (2024), Houshiary applies red pigment and pencil to a black ground in five ring shapes, recalling structures of carbon particles linked in a chain. Matching this in scale but cooler in tone, is the painting Earth Lament (2023), with two silhouetted blue figures that somehow materialized from the sedimented pigment, one appearing to soar and the other seemingly being dragged down. This accidental figuration also occurs in the work Cicada (2023), which could just as easily be a depiction of the wings of this insect as it could be a representation of its rhythmic song. At the other end of the scale are the galactic indigo swirls of So Far So Near (2024) and the bands of ethereal light crisscrossing the work titled Aurora (2023), recalling those seen occasionally streaking across a night sky.

Occupying the floor is a sculptural installation in nine parts, made from an open latticework of aluminum bricks in blue and green hues, each with the same footprint, but all at different heights, growing at increments of one layer at a time (the shortest has five layers, the highest thirteen). Entitled Maelstrom (2022), these curved forms, both hard and supple at the same time, recall not only the molecular structures of the red painting Enchanter, or “that primeval storm within the spiral of creation where something grows,” as the artist puts it, but also the shape of the ouroboros snake eating its own tail.

A second sculpture, seemingly another form defying logic and gravity, bursts from the wall. Its two sinuous, entangled lines are the artist’s approximation of the movement of a solitary wave – lending it the name Soliton (2024) – which is a type of swelling or surging motion that is not dependent on previous pulses, or followed by other waves. From such unfathomable objects, to minute molecules and gigantic expanses of space, Houshiary’s artworks represent a journey through everything from the chaos and messiness of the Big Bang to the silent contemplation of the resulting energies that surround every one of us.

This exhibition closes 11/2/24.

[suvcarslover]

Top 10 Features That Make the Kia Seltos X Line Stand Out

When it comes to SUVs, buyers today want more than rugged capability and utility. They seek standout style, premium features, and an experience that indulges the senses. Understanding this evolving demand, Kia India has introduced the Seltos X Line, which takes this compact SUV to the next level.

It combines the practicality of the Seltos with an extra dose of finesse and sophistication. So, if you're looking for an compact SUV that conquers the terrain and makes a bold statement, read on to understand the ten features that make the Kia Seltos X Line stand apart on the road.

Here are these extraordinary Kia Seltos features:

A Bold Exterior Presence The Kia Seltos X Line features a Matte Graphite Radiator Grille upfront with a Knurled Glossy Black Surround that gives this SUV a bold and modern look. The intricate knurled pattern on the black surround adds textural depth and sophistication. This premium grille sets the tone for the Seltos X Line variant right from the front.

Enhanced All-Round Visibility The 360-degree camera paired with Blind View Monitor drives awareness to the next level in the Seltos X Line. The four wide-angle cameras provide a bird's eye view of the SUV on the infotainment screen. This helps immensely while parking in tight spots. Further, the Blind View Monitor keeps you alerted to vehicles in your blind spots when changing highway lanes. These technologies provide you with exceptional visibility of your surroundings for confident driving.

Indulgent Interiors The Seltos X Line welcomes you with plush Sage Green Leatherette Seats featuring an intricate Chevron stitching pattern . The dual-tone black and green interior trim looks upscale, while the padded Kia Seltos leather seats offer superior comfort over long journeys. The contrast stitching adds visual depth and textural richness.

Driver-Focused Display The Smart 8-inch Head-up Display is thoughtfully positioned to minimize distraction. It projects essential graphics like speed, navigation prompts, and driver assist warnings right in your line of sight on the windshield glass. This lets you check key data without moving your head away from the road. Overall, it makes driving less taxing while keeping you informed.

Rugged Style Accents True to its SUV roots, the Kia Seltos X Line features sturdy, Glossy Black Skid Plates on both the front and rear bumpers. Strategically wrapped under, these metallic inserts safeguard the lower body from rough terrain. At the same time, the high-gloss black finish elevates the design. The Seltos X Line portrays rugged capability through premium styling.

Panoramic Views Throughout The Dual-Pane Panoramic Sunroof gives the Seltos cabin an airy, expansive feel while allowing all passengers to enjoy views of cloud formations and trees overhead. The single piece curved front glass section tilts open to let fresh air in. While the fixed rear glass ensures abundant ambient light even for rear seat occupants. Whether stargazing on a highway trip or simply winding down on the way back home, the panoramic sunroof makes every drive more relaxing.

Sporty Exterior Profile The Kia Seltos X Line dials up the style quotient through Glossy Black ORVMs (Outside Rear-View Mirrors) and Matte Graphite Door Handles . Viewed from the side, they nearly disappear into the window line, giving the sensation of levitating mirrors. Coming around the back, the metallic graphite door handles feel cooler to the touch while adding premium tactility. Their colour neatly matches other elements like the iconic tiger nose grille.

Ergonomic Control Center The D-Cut Steering Wheel is a standout feature in the Seltos X Line’s ergonomic cabin layout. However, the Seltos logo and intricate orange stitching also capture attention. The contrast stitching injects artisan richness and allows customization through the drive mode selector. The D-cut steering wheel lets you rule the road in style.

BOSE Premium Sound System The Kia Seltos X Line lets you enjoy sublime audio quality on the move via its segment-leading BOSE Premium Sound System . BOSE engineers exclusively fine-tuned this audio setup to deliver the signature lifelike, thrilling sound for which the brand is renowned. At its heart are eight custom-engineered speakers strategically placed around the cabin.

This bespoke speaker system uses the Seltos' inherent chassis rigidity to create an immersive acoustic stage. Whether you’re listening to your favourite singer's soaring vocals or an EDM track's intense beats, the BOSE system engages your aural senses.

Stylish Rims with Substance Rolling on R-18 Crystal-Cut Glossy Black Alloy Wheels, the Kia Seltos X Line makes a lasting style statement. With their multi-spoke layout spanning 46.20 cm (18 inches) in diameter, these alloys lend a contemporary edge. But the high-gloss black paint and precision diamond-cut machining make them stand out. The Bottom Line The X-Line model of the Kia Seltos car clearly raises the bar for style, comfort, and technology in the compact SUV segment. Its bold exterior design, surround-view cameras, expansive sunroof, and other premium features indulge the senses, while the practical underpinnings still promise real SUV capability.

It showcases how Kia India continues to push boundaries by combining substance with sophistication. For buyers seeking both practicality and prestige from their SUV, the Seltos X Line hits that sweet spot.

[sprout-senior]

drawing w pencils is overrated to me atp

i’ve just been using ballpoint pens and it’s great cuz it just makes my sketchbook so much more interesting/nice looking w all the colors and stuff, i can cover mistakes w sticky notes and that makes it look COOLER, i don’t have to deal with graphite smudging and making things ugly/muddled, i can color my doodles in without it looking mad ugly(again with the graphite issues)

i fucking love ballpoint pens they last ages, they’re cheap as fuck, they don’t dry out, you don’t have to sharpen them, you don’t have to worry about pressing down too hard, ballpoint pens are the BEST