#I AM NOT A GOOD SEWING CREATURE

[leadendeath]

the plushie i've been trying to make has been through hell already, and it's not even completed. to make him rounded and squishy, i've tried:

gusset (sewing an extra strip between the back and front to make more 3D??),

darts (cutting a line at certain points along the seams and then re-sewing those to, again, achieve more/better three dimensionality),

just simply sewing most of the two sides of fleece together roughly and without those^ extra features and half-stuffing him to see how that'd turn out (this is actually the first method i tried; thinking "oh fleece isn't a stiff fabric, it's stretchy, he'll become the right shape by himself :) WRONG!!)

same fabric each try. i don't quit and start over ever i just keep crying into the same pieces

[vaimetanyx]

Made these creatures in between cleaning the house today. I still have so much material left over from Skinhe, who knows how many more skin creatures I will make in the future. Certainly not me that's for sure!

[minminambus]

Ohhh!!! Almost done! Almost done and I’ll never have to go to this school again! One more assignment and I’m done!!!

[giantkillerjack]

Junji Ito makeup test #1

OR

Figuring out what I need in order to create a music video parody of the song "Gloria" by Laura Branigan, but make it about Tomie. I will be playing the part of a 1980s pop disco singer in the style of Junji Ito. This is high art in progress, people! 😘😂😅

photos of first test:

additional digital notes made using Clip Studio:

main takeaways:

So first off, where the fuck did my stage makeup go??? I had no idea it was missing until today!! I ended up using the makeup from when I used to perform as a mime. (Not a joke, but in a larger, cosmic sense, kind of a joke. 😆 I'll probably do it again sometime. I was adorable as a little soft butch gay mime!)

I now remember why I stopped using the dry cake face paint and switched to wet paint in a tube BUT I CANNOT FIND THE TUBESSS

I'm out of eyeliner in general, but for this, I need some kind of extra thin/fine eyeliner and preferably more than a thimble-full of paint for it.

Maybe I can thin out some matte black face paint and also get like a really nice fine brush? I guess it depends on if the paint is water-soluble.

I should probably check to see if I already have these materials, which would be SO MUCH EASIER IF I COULD FIND MY FUCKING STAGE MAKEUP--

Either way the lines need to be super thin, straight, clean, and parallel to each other. Or I could look at the rougher cross-hatching Ito sometimes uses, but I suspect tidier lines will look best with makeup.

Luckily, I already have an entire burlesque/drag act where I make myself look like a character from a black and white film. Between that and the mime thing, I theoretically have all the white gloves I will ever need lol. I guess I'm going to need white leggings, since the light gray ones won't work for this. Junji Ito is not generally greyscale as much as literally black and white.

Do I own makeup primer? I feel like yes. It definitely sounds like a good idea.

I KNOW FOR A FACT I DIDN'T THROW OUT MY STAGE MAKEUP because I had quality skin-safe glitter in basically every color, and only a FOOL would throw that out!!!!

Gloria is a song from 1983 with disco balls in the music video. Do I want to incorporate more style choices from 1983? Should I buy a wig? Something with shoulder pads maybe?? I guess that means I can keep the thick eyebrows...

Actually upon further research, I do need a sequinned shirt for this. Possibly a sequin leotard with a shiny belt. And leg warmers. OH! And a jacket with just the biggest shoulder pads I can find! Or at least the closest thing I can find to this outfit in one trip to a thrift store

Every 1980s music videos seems to have a person with their hair and clothing flowing in the wind. Now, I could buy a fan. But much funnier and cheaper would be a shot of my hair blowing in the wind that then pans to a friend furiously fanning me with a piece of cardboard or something. (Which means I'd need either two people helping with this shot, or I just have to accept that the shot's going to look kind of blurry by doing the zoom-out in post. Oh gods, I would have to write a proper shot list ahhhhhh--)

Honestly, blurry footage seems fine in some parts. I'm probably going to add some dreamy soft filters anyway to make it look like pre-digital 35mm film from an 80s vid.

I'm going to need some fake blood to splatter at me in the middle of the video. Obviously. So I guess that bit will need to be filmed outside.

The good news is the fact that the nearest easiest filming location for me is a alley full of dumpsters is actually really appropriate for this video. XD

Should I do the distressed eyebrows that a lot of Junji Ito characters have? Note to try that in the next test along with a The Crow-like smile. (My go-to high school Halloween costume. Damn, I have been painting my already pasty-pale face even whiter for a while now! 😅)

Other progress made on this project today:

I recorded myself singing a voice memo along to the rhythm of the karaoke version of Gloria that's on YouTube, but in it, I'm singing in the key that is appropriate to my voice. (A couple half-steps down, I think.)

Next step will be to load that clip onto my computer and adjust the karaoke version to match its pitch. And then like, practice the song with my new personalized backing track.

If i actually finish this, I'll have to re-record the backup vocals to say the right name.

Also the next step will be to see if my interest in this lasts long enough to at least get me to find my frickin' stage makeup.

Additional notes:

The original music video for Holding Out for a Hero is exactly the right energy for this, and now I absolutely need shots of me in front of (badly green-screened) flames, on my knees while singing passionately and directly at the camera and presumably wearing kneepads tbh

Omg what if I included a little "photoshoot" sequence and really fucked with the photos to make them all blurry-body-horror nasty as they flash by real quick?? Get like, a glitch effect in the mix hell yeah 😎😎😎

Edit: Omg i just remembered I have these short-shorts with a reanimator quote on the ass! ("Blasphemy? Before what god?") i know what shorts to wear for this now!!

Oh! Another idea! What if the video starts with me reading Tomie and then closing the book and picking up the nearest microphone-shaped thing and using that to start singing - and every 30 seconds or so of footage, it quietly changes to a different item (one of which is absolute the black wand vibrator that I have XD)

Note: I can easily shorten the song if I only have funny shots planned for like 2/3 of the song length. No need to get too repetitive.

[ineffablehubbys]

This is the high quality content that I would only expect from tumblr

I know we generally characterize the spectrum of David Tennant characters from “Living Embodiment of Depression” to “Flamboyant Gay Slut” with various shades in between, but I think we’re overlooking the OTHER spectrum he operates on, which is like. “ The Single Most Sopping Wet Autism Creature In Existence” to “Guy Who Kills and Tortures For Fun.”

[cryobabiess]

girldad!geta pleeease!

Filia Divina

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Wife!reader

Tags: childbirth, pregnancy, miscarriage mentioned, implied infanticide, soft!geta (if you squint), historically accurate practices, NOT BETA READ SO IF YOU SEE SOMETHING WONKY NO YOU DIDN’T, good ole fashioned misogyny

AN: Tollere Liberos is in reference to an ancient Roman tradition where a father decides whether or not to accept a newborn as their child. Rejected children were abandoned via ‘expositus’ (aka dead ass just leaving a baby out in the wilderness). So basically girldad!geta but historically accurate lol. Enjoy!

It had only been an hour since you birthed her—a sweet little creature with curls the color of honey and supple skin like the flesh of a ripe plum. With a mighty wail fit to be heard across an empire, she came into the world. Your goddess, Juno, generously granted her the health and strength you prayed for. You rejoiced, though your joy was not shared.

The midwives cleaned your daughter in grave silence, save for the whispers of the politic-men gathered to witness the birth of Rome’s divine son. They huddled together in the far corner of the chamber as your girl laid against her mother’s chest for the first time.

“It cannot be true—look again!” Geta frantically commands the weary doctor. He paces across the marble floor in a state of distress. A litany of expressions troubles his face; disbelief, panic, betrayal.

“My lord, it is not what was desired, but I assure you—the child is female. You have my greatest sorrows.” The doctor mournfully bows his head, knowing better than to look the short tempered prince in the eye.

Geta was persistent, diligently sewing his seed in your womb since your holy union. You passed two of his children as blood, and he held you as you suffered through the pain. He watched your body grow when his efforts succeeded, massaged your taut skin with olive oil, and fed you bread soaked in sweet wine when you felt ill. He even kneeled at Jupiter’s alter to call for the safe delivery of his first son and the health of his wife—All these precautions only to be cruelly slighted.

“The gods have punished me, yet I’ve done nothing but bend to their will.” Geta holds his head in disbelief, his devastation made evident by a deep scowl.

Senator Gracchus tentatively approaches your distraught husband, resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“My lord, we must atone for our offenses, whatever they may be. It is a grave misfortune indeed, but your bride—“

Rage ignites across Geta’s face as he pulls away from his constituent’s touch.

“Speak tactfully of your empress if you wish to keep your tongue, Senator.” He seethes through a tight jaw. Gracchus relents, his tone softening considerably. He continues slowly and with caution.

“Two winters have passed since your union, and she has yet to bring forth an heir of Rome. Her body has proved inhospitable. The gods have sent a message, and it would be foolish to turn a cheek—you must heed this omen! ”

Geta takes a moment, carefully considering the senator’s plea for reason. He looks back to you, Obsidian eyes gazing down at the linen sheet that obscures your sleeping child.

“I am a conduit of their will. Tollere Liberos will prevail and the gods will decide through me.” Geta turns to you fully. Your heart becomes heavy in your chest as you search your husband’s face for tenderness, but see nothing but solid stone.

In your dreams, you imagined the day Geta approached his first heir as sweet—that he might kiss your reddened cheeks and proudly claim his child. Never did you think the sight of him would cause you to tighten your grip and cower away. He looms over the bed where you lay exhausted and perspiring—like a holy monument.

“Show me the child.”

“My love, I beg you—“

“Your emperor commands it.” Geta callously interrupts.

You unwrap your daughter in your arms, trembling hands moving as gingerly as possible. She shifts in her sleep, curling her precious limbs toward her delicate body, but does not wake. Geta’s eyes widen at the sight of her.

“So it is true. My faithful wife’s womb has betrayed me.” His gaze softens. Something stirs behind it, but you are not sure what.

“If you wish to return her life, then be merciful and do the same with mine.” Your heart twists and aches, your love for your emperor becoming a knife in your rib.

To your shock, Geta reaches out to his daughter, takes her tiny fist in his palm, and runs a thumb over her blushing knuckles. She wraps her hand around her father’s finger with a mighty yawn.

You have seldom seen your restless husband become so still.

“She bears your resemblance.” Geta’s voice is but a whisper. His gaze doesn’t stray from her. It appears his heart aches the same as yours.

“And a head of golden hair.” You can only offer an exhausted smile.

Geta takes his daughter into his arms for the first time.

“The gods have spoken!” He declares to the small gathering of senators. Your emperor raises his girl above the laurels atop his head. Some look on with horror, and others with pride.

“She will have my name! It is done.”

As your daughter’s first weeks pass, Geta’s tenderness only grows. In the lavender hours of dawn, you wake to find him cradling her in the crook of his arm. He speaks to her softly.

“Poor girl, you have wounded your father’s pride. My, what tragedy.”

You smile at the sound of her gentle crooning as your husband assuages her back to sleep.

“A son would belong to Rome—but you, dear Septima, will belong to me.”

[catsteeth]

Cold Steel Hot Skin

Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Stark Reader 

+:✿ Request ✿:+ : part 2 - part 3

Request: “Jacaerys and FemStark!Reader have been betrothed during the whole war. Team Black wins the war and Rhaenyra is crowned queen. After Jace and the Reader are married, the night is filled with celebration. Reader pulls Jace away and gives him head while he's sitting on the throne. Sub!Jace with lots of praise and reassurance.”  CW: MDNI, SMUT, oral sex (m rec), afab reader, arranged marriage, NSFW themes, misogyny, mention of death, praise, sub jace, dom reader, mention of parental death.

Word Count: 5k

You were prepared to marry a high-born son, you were prepared for it all your life. You were taught how to make a man happy. Watch your tongue, speak little, and never your mind. Do whatever your husband commands of you, give no resistance. Smile and stay amenable. Only you were not your mother's idea of a perfect wife by nature. 

No, you were raised alongside your brothers. You favored horse riding to sewing, archery to singing, and hunting to practicing your courtesies. 

However as the threat of war drew closer, the need for the North’s strength grew more desperate. The house of the dragon did not know whose head ruled it. Aegon the drunken prince or Rhaenyra the king's firstborn. Both the greens and the blacks came to your brother, Cregan Stark who now ruled as warden of the north. They wanted the North's strength to earn their power. 

Cregan only bent his knee to Rhaenyra after he spoke with Prince Jacaerys. The men were similar in age and he felt the Prince would be better suited to the throne than his uncle. 

Though armies and power are not handed to anyone for free, in return for the North’s support, Cregan asked that his sisters be considered for one of the Queen's sons to wed, or perhaps one of his brothers for one of her nieces. 

You hoped desperately that you would be spared from this fate. You never had any interest in men or marriage. Your septa’s always told you to obey your husband. That if you didn’t perhaps he would hit you, or take you by force. Honestly, you feared a husband, they sounded like horrid creatures.

It took time to hear back, but soon a raven arrived. It said what you feared it might. The crowned prince himself would take the north’s eldest daughter to wed. 

You practiced holding your tongue and putting on a smile. You found it easy not to speak, speaking would do you no good anyway. But forcing a smile was a difficulty. 

You fidgeted with the beaded embellishments of the embroidery on your dress. Biting your cheek you stood by the door of your house's great hall. Listening to your brother and the prince speaking. “My prince, my sister Lady Stark.”

You looked at the prince cautiously. Though he was not as frightful as you thought he might be. He was quite handsome. But that did not mean he was kind. You curtseyed as you were taught to do hundreds of times. “I hope I do not disappoint you, my prince.” You spoke in a higher and softer tone than you did naturally. 

Jace took your hand, kissing your knuckles gently, “You could never, my Lady.”

He seemed gentle, and kind. 

Your fears did not rest, however. He was kind in front of you brother, a large and imposing man. That did not mean he would be kind when away from peering eyes. 

The ride in the carriage felt uncomfortable. You were frightened by him in honesty. You knew that you would wed a high-born man but never did you think you’d marry a prince, and never did you think you would become a queen.

You were unsure of him, unsure of what he was like. Would he hit you? Would he yell? He was to be the king, surely he could do whatever he liked. 

Your unease only worsened when your eyes fell back onto him, noticing that he was still looking at you. 

As soon as he noticed your uneasy gaze, he smiled to himself and looked down “I apologize I am staring.” he said shaking his head. 

You shrugged, “That’s alright. I am to be yours by law, you may stare at me if you wish to.” You were trained for this moment, this was your first willing submission.

Jace’s eyes looked up at you, his gaze narrowed at you in confusion, “I do not own you, my Lady.” He leaned forward towards you, “If I do something to displease you I wish to know.”

You felt surprised, not only was this man willing for you to be your own person but he encouraged it. He wanted you to be a participant in his life and this marriage. 

You took a breath, then dropped your doe-like expression. Replacing it with your natural stern demeanor, common in the North. “Why are you staring at me?” You asked plainly now in your natural tone. It made Jace smile. “If I do truly disappoint I have other sisters-” 

“You do not. I did not lie.” Jace interrupted you, it almost made you flinch. Perhaps you were too bold with your words. Though his eyes softened towards you, letting you relax in the warmth of his gaze. “I do not want your sisters or any other woman.” Once again he surprised you. How could he say such a thing when he did not know you? Even if he believed you to be the most beautiful woman in the world, for all he knew you could have been the most cruel woman alive. “I am staring because I am taken by you.” He finished with a soft grin.

You blushed slightly. Feeling a grin beginning to tug at the corners of your mouth, you looked away from him. “You do not know me.” You said, shaking your head.

Jace chuckled to himself, “You are skeptical. I know that now.” 

You smiled slightly at his amusement, “People should be.” you said with a raised brow. 

He smiled as he bit his lip, “And now I know you are intelligent.” he said with a nod. 

You could not hide your smile this time. You scoffed a laugh as you looked outside your carriage, noticing the large green beast in the sky flying above you. “I thought you would be on your dragon.” You said looking towards Vermax in the sky. 

“I wanted time to speak plainly with you, and Vermax is not yet big enough for two,” Jace said earnestly. You felt yourself beginning to relax in his presence. 

You looked back to Jace, “Not sure how I would fare on a dragon's back.” you said with a stifled laugh. 

“I think you’ll do fine considering you’re a skilled horse rider,” Jace said with a smirk as your eyes widened. 

Once again this prince had surprised you. You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned in forward, “You do know about me.” 

Jace smiled, stifling a laugh as he looked down, “I confess I might have read quite a bit about your family before coming here.” He looked back at you, “And then I found that I was reading quite a bit about you.” He said as if he were admitting a great secret. 

He was not lying either. When prompted with the offer of marriage, Jace was hesitant. He even suggested wedding his little brother Joffrey to one of your younger sisters. But once he began to read of your family, he found himself wanting to know more and more about you. He found himself fascinated by you, and once there was nothing left to read about you he decided he’d rather marry you. 

You felt heat dash across your cheeks as your blush revealed how much he’d flattered you. “A dull read for a Prince, I am sure.” 

He shook his head, “Far from it.” He said earnestly, his eyes looking at you as if you were a beautiful and extravagant painting. 

You and he talked the entire ride to the ship to Dragonstone. He continued to ask you questions about yourself throughout the ride. You did not ask him any in return. You did not know what to ask, what could you ever have in common with a prince? 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Once at Dragonstone, most of your days were spent completing errands for the queen, or if you were lucky, sharing a thought or opinion at the small council. She thought it was important for you to participate as you were to be queen one day.

You also spent much of your time avoiding the prince. You caught him staring at you many times, and his gaze lingered on you as you walked through a room. 

But you hardly had a moment alone to yourself. You had nary a moment to ride a horse, practice your swordplay, or even read. So once you were able to be alone, you decided to practice your archery. Although you did not know that the prince also shared that desire. 

At The top of a tall hill, was a training field. It had tall wooden targets made specifically for practicing your arrow's aim. As you made your way up the steep path to the top, you were caught off guard by the sound of an arrow hitting a wooden target that stood mere inches from where the path ended. 

You continued up the path, peering behind the wooden target to see Jace pointing his crossbow at that same target. “My prince.” You said calmly despite his aim. 

“My Lady!” Jace said surprised, and pointing the crossbow away from you, “My apologies.”

“No need.” You shrugged, “I am not maimed.”

He stifled a laugh, “I should hope not.”

You approached the wooden target, looking at the arrow that had pierced it with clear ferocity as the wood splintered and broke from the impact, “That’s quite the shot.” You said as your fingers trailed along the arrow.

“Thank you-”

You leaned against the wooden target, “Whom did you imagine it to be?” you asked looking back toward Jace.

Jace hesitated unsure if he should say, “A green.” You could tell by his tone he was holding back the truth.

“Liar.” You said with a grin. Jace looked at you surprised, never had anyone dared question him other than his family. It was refreshing to have you challenge him, “I am sure it was a green but it was more personal than that.” You said pushing yourself off of the wooden target and walking towards Jace.

“Aemond Targaryen.” He said almost immediately. You stopped your steps, feeling somewhat guilty you forced him to divulge such a personal matter. You knew of what happened to his brother. 

You looked at him gently, “Aemond should be frightened.” You said earnestly. 

“They all should be.” He said, attempting to direct his attention towards anything else, “My mother's armies are fierce and unrelenting.” 

“As are you.” You said softly as you continued to walk closer toward him, “Grief is a powerful thing, the want for vengeance even more so.”

Jace felt emotion getting the better of him. But seeing as he was to marry you, he might as well feel able to confide in you, “I miss him.” Jace said weakly.

You were silent for a moment. Unsure of how you could comfort him. But soon you spoke, “I lost mine own sister.” Jace looked at you, “She too was younger than I.” You said with a nod stepping towards him, “I am sure you read about it. It was the cold that took her. The cold wind brings sickness. It makes us northerners stronger, we suffer each sickness so that we never suffer them again.” You stopped speaking for a moment, unsure of how you could continue your story, “But for those who are too weak, too small, too fragile… The cold wind kills them.” You looked at Jace with understanding, another name for love, “I spent years angry at any gust of cold air I felt. I cannot imagine how you feel. To have a face and a name to place that anger.” Jace only looked at you, he never had someone who could understand him so well. He didn’t have the words. But you didn’t need them. You approached him, getting close to his side as you adjusted his grip on his crossbow. “You should hold the stock closer to your shoulder.” you said pushing it to the correct position for him. 

Jace looked over his shoulder to you, “I think I am in love with you.” He spoke earnestly, and softly. 

You looked back at him, “I know you are.” you spoke as earnestly as he did. 

Jace dropped his crossbow. He put your face into his hands, cupping your jaw gently. He looked at you for just a moment. He was going to ask for your permission to kiss you but you pressed your lips to his before he could. “I don’t know how I was ever frightened by you.” You smiled as he stifled a laugh and kissed you again.

You and he from that moment forth, were nearly inseparable. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

After the war was fought and over, the Blacks were victorious in their goal to retake Rhaeynra’s rightful throne. Blood was shed of course, but now that it was done with it was time for celebration. And what better way to celebrate than for a royal wedding? 

Your gown was heavy, and although you had little regard for fashions even you could appreciate how beautiful it was. 

You never thought you’d feel so proud to wear another man's cloak, adorned with the symbol and colors of his house. But you wore the black and red three-headed dragon on your shoulders with great pride and honor. 

Your pride did not subside the whole evening. After your vows and kiss were performed, you and your now husband danced in the great hall as the rest of the guests ate, sang, and danced about the room.

Jace held you closely as you danced slowly. Your eyes locked onto his, and both of you were simply dazed with happiness and love. “My husband, the dragon.” You said sweetly with your forehead pressed against his. 

Jace’s hand ran over your hair gently, careful not to disturb your intricately braided hair, “My wife, the wolf.” He said with a proud and love-drunk smile. 

Your eyes roamed the room, you could see each high-born girl looking at you with jealous eyes. It made you grin, “I think I have made every girl in the seven kingdoms green with envy.” you said leaning into Jace, your eyes still scanning the room. 

“And I have driven every man to a jealous rage.” He said with an amused smile as his eyes roamed the room as well.

“Because you’ll be king over them all.” You said gently as you closed your eyes, laying your head against his shoulder. 

He leaned in closer to your ear, “Because I’ve married the most beautiful, intelligent, and fierce woman in the known world.” He said sweetly. 

You raised your head from his shoulder, looking into his eyes. You could see the love he had for you just by his look. You did not care if it would be considered polite or not, your lips pressed against his own. He did not care either. His hand held you at the nape of your neck. 

“Daughter,” A voice called out, it startled you slightly. Daughter was a title you had not been called in years now with your parent’s cold in the crypt. You looked over to see the Queen herself. Rhaenyra looked towards her son, still holding tightly onto you. “Might I have a moment, Jace?” Jace nodded and gave you a small kiss on your temple before leaving you and your mother to speak. 

Rhaenyra took you by the arm, walking around the ballroom. “Well, I know your mother could not be here today and I suppose I wanted to give you a word of motherly advice. Political marriage can be a difficult thing to adjust to.” She said with a sigh, “Though it seems my son has had no difficulty in that regard, nor you.” She finished as she looked at you with a warm smile.

You smile back at her, though feeling somewhat embarrassed, “Your son is an honorable man, and I am honored to be his wife.” You said with a nod.

She rubbed your arm gently with her hand, “I have no doubts you will serve our house well.”

“I can only hope so. Your house has been most gracious-”

“Your house.” She corrected you, “It is your house now, my dear.” 

You did not know what to say, you’d not felt a motherly touch in so long. “Thank you, your grace.” You said with a smile and respectful nod.

“Seven blessings to you, my dear.” She said smiling, before leaving you. 

Afterward, you tried your best to reunite with your new husband, only he was nowhere to be found. As you walked around the great hall you were approached by many guests, all high-born lords and ladies who never paid you any mind before today. They all congratulated you with great respect and spoke oh so highly of you and your family. No doubt attempting to gain favor in the eyes of their future queen. Between this sudden overbearing attention, you now could not help but notice how grand this wedding was. It was far more extravagant than any wedding in the north had ever been. 

You drowned your nerves with wine. But you wouldn’t feel any better until you found Jace again. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Once the party was dying out like an exhausted candle, you were determined to find Jace once again.

Somewhat angry and somewhat concerned you attempted to hunt down the prince without causing concern. Soon you were pushing open the large heavy doors to the throne room.

Pushing the door open just enough to look in, you signed as you saw your husband standing in the room staring at the throne.

“I thought you ran away.” You said pushing the doors to the Throne room open. 

Jace looked over his shoulder at you and held out his hand towards you, “From the festivities. Not from you.” 

You grabbed hold of his hand, “I was quite miserable without you.” You said in annoyance with a pout as he pulled you into his side. 

His hand trailed up and down over your back soothingly, “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left you, I won’t again, I swear it to you.” He said as his hand then snaked around your waist holding you even closer.

You nodded in agreement, “The celebration was generous, far more generous than I am used to.” You said trying not to sound ungrateful. Your fingers trailed over the lavish embroidery of dragons and fire on Jace’s overcoat. “I was happy to hear there would be no bedding ceremony,” you said casually just to tease him, your eyes still following your finger as it traced the intricate stitching of his coat.

Jace’s eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed, “You think that I would allow that?” He said with a slightly aggressive tone as he held you by your chin forcing you to look at him, “Allowing men to paw at you?” 

You couldn’t keep up your facade and your grin gave away your intentions. Jace let your chin go as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Such a protective husband you are proving to be.” You said as you kissed the corner of his mouth, “Still even if there is no ceremony-” You kissed the sensitive bit between his jawline and his neck, making him hiss, “I was rather excited for what comes after the wedding.” you said with a luscious gaze.

Jace couldn’t help but widely grin as he stifled a chuckle, “No one is more eager than I am.” He said caressing your cheek, “I just,” He sighed, “I find myself overwhelmed.”

“The war is over, and won.” You said softly, “You should be happy.” 

“I am happy.” He said assertively, not wanting you to think otherwise. Then he sighed as he looked towards the throne, “The burden is a heavy one.”

You looked towards the throne as well, “The crown was never meant to be light.” Your eyes then went back to Jace, “Those who are best fit for it proceed it in caution, not enthusiasm.” You already spoke with the wisdom of a queen.

“Are you so comfortable to assume the position of queen?” Jace asked defensively, he did not always like being proven wrong.

You were not upset by his question, “No. Quite the opposite.” You said with a shake of your head, “I always valued my privacy. Never liked having eyes on me, never liked people talking about me.” 

“Perhaps you would have been happier to marry a different man.” He sulked.

You narrowed your brows, “Is that how you feel?” You questioned him assertively, sick of his self-pity. 

His demeanor changed, becoming softer, “No.” He said holding your jaw gently, “I do not want anyone else.” 

You placed a hand on his that held your face, “I know this marriage was arranged but I am happier for it. You are an honorable man, who will make a great king.” You spoke gently.

Jace shook his head, “I have no doubt you will be a beloved queen. You are wise and caring. Born of a noble house.” He said looking at you with admiration.

“As are you.“ You said, wanting him to see himself worthy of his inheritance. 

Jace shook his head and looked down as if he were ashamed, “You know what I am.”

You rolled your eyes, “I care not for such trivial matters. You are the son of the rightful queen.” 

“And a bastard.” He said frustrated  

“And I thank the gods for it.” You said stoically, “I have a taste for men with dark hair.” Your hand combed through his dark curls.

“Funny.” He said without amusement, “But what will people think of a bastard as their king? What will they think of our children-”

“When you take the throne you will no longer be a Velaryon. You will be a Targaryen. That is not a lie. Our children will be Targaryens, that is not a lie.” You interrupted him, already defensive over your future children, “You are a dragon rider, a brave and… handsome man.” You said, trailing off in the end as your eyes admired his features, “I think you just need to get adjusted to the role is all.” You said as you took Jace’s hand, pulling him towards the Throne. “Sit.” You commanded, and be obeyed, 

Jace sat on the throne, and you were overcome with desire. He looked so powerful, and he fit in it so perfectly. There was no one else better suited to it. 

Jace however did not share your feelings, “This is foolish-” He began about to push himself out of the throne.

“Wait,” You said, placing a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the throne. You smirked at him as you stepped closer towards him, now standing between his legs, “I quite like the look of you in this chair.” You said as you ran your hand through his hair somewhat roughly, making him look up to you. 

Jace grinned, “I quite like the look of you in this gown.” He said as his eyes trailed over your body in the ivory gown.

“Do you like it like this?” You asked as your fingers pulled at the laces of your gown, making it loosen around your shoulders, “Or like this?” You asked as your bare shoulders became exposed and you hiked up your skirts and straddled Jace’s lap.

Overcome by desire, Jace’s hands roamed your body with an untamable want, and his lips found yours with a deep hunger. Since your time in the training yard, you and Jace had kissed many, many, many times. But this was desperate, this was longing. His tongue found your own, and you never knew the warmth that would come with it. This kind of kiss was new. 

You moved your mouth to his neck, kissing down until you were unbuttoning his shirt desperate for more skin to kiss. 

He could not help but lean into your affections. His hands grasped harder onto your sides, his lips found your exposed skin. The pleasure sent a chill through your spine. You felt a candle light between your legs. Desperate for more, you began to grind your clothed cunt against his mounting excitement.

You smirked as you heard Jace gasp at your bold movements, “We can’t, not in here-” He said breathlessly.

“Why not? You’re the king.” You said softly with a gentle kiss to his neck, “My king.” You smirked at him as you opened his overcoat and blouse, admiring his body that was new to you. “You’ve kissed me before have you not? You are to fuck me tonight are you not? Why can I not sample you?” You asked sweetly, but darkly as you kissed down his chest, over his stomach, until you were kneeling in front of him between his knees as he sat on the throne. 

As your hand gently grazed over his thighs, he cupped your cheek gently. “You make me weak. I can’t contain my urges.” He said with a weak smile, too love-drunk to think.

You shook your head, “I don’t want them contained.” You said as you kissed the bulge his throbbing cock was creating beneath his constricting trousers. 

Jace tried but failed to conceal his moan of pleasure, “I’ll do whatever my queen commands of me.” he spoke breathlessly, his eyes already begging to roll back in ecstasy though he tried to maintain his composure. 

You rested your head against his thigh, teasingly close to his cock. Your eyes were that of a siren of the sea as you looked up at him, “I only wish to serve…” Your hand began to trail over toward the silk laces of his trousers, “My king.” you said as you began to free him from the confines of his clothing.

He gasped again as he watched you, “Gods be good.” 

You pulled the expensive fabric of his wedding attire down and his cock eagerly sprung out. You smirked as you looked at it, “Fit for a king.” You said with a smirk, reaching for his length, but stopping just inches before you could touch him, “Can I?” You wanted to be certain before you did it, and he eagerly and desperately nodded. As you took him in your hand he groaned in pleasure. You stroked it slowly, almost painfully slow. With each stroke, you were fixated on the noises you were drawing out of him. Desperate for more, You licked up his shaft before taking him in your mouth, or as much of him as you could take. Sucking slowly and gently, his moans and the lewd sounds from your mouth echoed throughout the empty throne room. As you released him from your mouth desperate for air, you continued to stroke him, “You taste so good.” You said breathlessly. 

Jace mewled, and took a deep breath, trying his best not to finish right then and there, “You feel so good, your mouth feels so so good.” He whined beautifully, throwing his head back against the cold steel of the throne.

You began to kiss the tip of his cock, savoring the taste of his precum as it leaked from him, “You like it?” You asked teasingly innocent. 

“Y-yes.” He stammered as he groaned

You suddenly stopped your movements, ceasing all attention you were giving him, it was enough to drive him mad as he groaned in agony, “Have you ever had a woman touch you like this?” You asked leaning your head against his thigh, as if you were completely unaware of the torture you were putting him through. 

He shook his head eagerly, “N-no, only you.”

You smirked as you took him back in your hand, “You truly are an honorable man.” You gave his cock a final kiss before you turned your attention towards his balls, taking one in your mouth. You were unfamiliar with what you were doing but somehow it came naturally. Your desire drove you in the right direction. Sucking on him as you stroked his cock.

This sensation was all too new for Jace, he threw his head back and moaned erratically, “F-f-f” he stammered

You released him, followed by a lewd noise, “You can curse.” You told him, knowing what he wanted to do. 

“Fuck…” He said as if he had resurfaced after being drowned, He looked down at you longingly, “Can I touch you?” He asked desperately. 

You couldn’t help but smile at his sweetness, “Of course, my king.” you said with a nod, taking him back in your mouth again.

His hands went to your head, petting your hair sweetly, being sure to keep your hair out of your face. His moaning only got louder, “Awh, thank you- thank you.” He whined, “You’re so beautiful.” He said as he watched you lovingly stroke and suck on his throbbing length. You squeezed him in a particular way that made his muscles twitch, “Awh! I love you-” He said, his mind empty, but meaning every word. 

You released him for just a moment to breathe, “Say it again.” you commanded before taking in your mouth again. 

You could feel his grip on your hair tightening, “I love-” He nodded, and you began to stroke fast, suck harder, “Awh!” he moaned out in pleasure as your moments picked up, “I love you, with everything I have.” He spoke breathlessly, “My wife, my queen.” 

You could feel his body tensing underneath your touch, you could feel his cock throbbing when harder, his breath and moans more erratic. You knew what was coming, so you did what he hoped to all the Gods that you wouldn’t do, and you stopped. You released him from your mouth and your touch. “Uh-uh.” You said standing up, and pulling your gown back up around your shoulders.

Jace looked at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, “You tease me?” he asked desperately, attempting to catch his breath. 

You smirked at the sight in front of you, he sprawled out on the throne nearly fully exposed, “I want you to spill inside me. How else am I to give you children?” You said in a teasing tone. 

Jace huffed but smirked, knowing his release was going to be something he earned. He pushed himself back into his trousers and stood. 

He smirked at you as he began to rush you out of the throne room, no doubt towards your now shared chambers. Stopping for a moment to push you against the throne room doors to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. 

As your kiss was released you smiled at him, “I love you, you know?” you spoke gently.

He stifled a laugh and nodded, “I know you do.” he said before kissing you once more before pushing you out of the room and chasing you toward your chambers. 

[bookshelfdreams]

I know it's been half a year and I don't feel like digging up the original post rn but I finally got started ooooonnnnn

✨The American Duchess Wrap Cape✨

Carol Kimball made a printable version of the pattern which she generously shares for free on her blog along with instructions for alterations and assembly (PLUS pockets! And a hood!). This is what I'll be working with.

I forgot to take a picture, but I'm using a grey-green (sage? I'd call this sage) boiled wool as top fabric, and dark blue flannel for the lining. Because I am an idiot, and also due to my general hubris, I have forgone the mockup. Instead, i decided to try on every pattern piece as I go along and see what alterations it needs. I am sure I will not regret this.

(I do have a lot of fabric, so there's room for error. When I bought it earlier this year I thought I would do the hood, but I have since decided against it - with the colour, a hood would make me look like some twee forest creature. Not that that wouldn't be an amazing fashion concept. Unfortunately, hoods don't work great with scarves and shawls, so no hood this time.)

First (after printing and taping together the pattern pieces) was extending the shoulder seam. The original pattern has tiny shoulders, which might work fine for some (although, tbh, even the og pictures of AD's reconstruction seem to fit the model kinda awkwardly), but for me, too small. Kimball recommends making a sort of bulge on the front piece so it actually goes over the bust, which I did; I freehanded it and figured I would cut it out, sew in the darts and then check if it fits.

I wasn't sure how to mark where to put the darts without cutting up the pattern. In the end, I just put a little bit of white thread through the start and end points, pulled off the paper and tied them off loosely. That worked really well, and it made folding the darts easier, too.

Anyway, the front piece seemed to fit! So I used it to adjust the pattern for the lining, cut out the two front pieces, and put in the darts there. Then I cut open the darts, finished the seams that needed finishing, and pressed all my seams, as if I knew what I was doing and wasn't a chaotic craft gremlin.

Next, I cut out the back piece (the pattern prints only one half, but I mirrored it and then taped the two halves together, so I wouldn't have to fumble around trying to cut it on the fold. That would not have ended well) in both top and lining, sewed them together with the according front pieces at the shoulders, and pressed the seams again.

Then I ran out of blue sewing thread. But since it's 20:00 anyway, and my sewing machine is very loud, I'll be a considerate neighbour and stop with the noise-heavy activities. Tomorrow I'll have to go to the inferior craft store (the good one is closed on tuesdays) to get some fusible interfacing for the collar and pockets (up next!). Also blue thread.

(The cat was helping, as always)

[iamleesi]

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐓 ☠︎

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝟑𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. +18!!

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤! 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 "𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄". 𝐈 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨, 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥.

-> [ 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ]

𝑂𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝑀𝑂𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅: 𝑇𝘩𝑒𝑦 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛... 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒.

𓃠 ᴘᴀʀᴛ 𓃠 ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ 𓃠

She stepped back into the quiet house, her heart hammering against her chest - and that time, the fact that she ran had very little to do with it. The Other Bucky was still there, in the living room, exactly where she'd left him. Sitting on the couch, all calm and collected, the picture of relaxation. How cute.

"Did you enjoy the night, doll?" His voice was low, familiar, but she couldn't shake the unnatural cadence beneath it. Surely not after everything she'd been learning in just one night.

She hesitated, lingering in the doorway, her gaze flickering to the small door behind him. It was still shut tight, her only way out. Wanda, hurry up.

"It's hard to enjoy anything..." She said finally, her voice stiff. "... when a creature that looks like my boyfriend wants to eat me."

He chuckled softly, the sound more unsettling for how casual it was. "It's not as bad as it sounds."

She gave him an unimpressed look.

"Alright." He amended, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "It is as bad as it sounds. But it doesn't have to be, and I apologize for losing a bit of my temper earlier. That was out of character of me. We can pretend nothing ever happened, and I'll be what you truly want me to be this time."

She blinked at him, incredulous. "I'm sorry - what? You think we can just act like I didn't figure out what you are? The cat told me everything."

"Of course it did." He waved a hand dismissively. "Always meddling, always self-righteous. The little thing has a hero complex, you know. Like it's trying to save every sorry soul it comes across. Hope you understand why I don't like cats."

Her jaw tightened, but she stayed silent, watching him like a hawk. He gestured toward the couch, patting the empty space beside him. "Come. Sit here next to me." He continued.

"I'm good where I am." Her voice was firm, even as her palms were sweating. "Thanks for the kind offer."

He sighed, tilting his head as if she was the one being unreasonable. "I'm not going to sew anything unless you give me permission. I'm not a monster." He smirked faintly, leaning back again. "I've had permission from every soul I've ever taken. I just want to talk."

"Children's consent doesn't matter when you manipulate them into believing things that only serve your own interests. So, what exactly are we talking about?" She looked at the door once more. 

"You." He said simply. His tone was so soft, so disarming, that for a moment she almost believed it. "You've had a hard life, haven't you? And it's brought you here, to me. Isn't that worth considering?"

Her brow furrowed, her arms tightening across her chest. "It was a sick joke from the universe. What's your point?"

"My point, sweetheart, is that I'm offering you a deal. A way out. Stay here, with me. For years, decades - however long you like. I'll make it perfect for you." His voice grew quieter, almost hypnotic. "I'll even change for you. Real eyes, no buttons. All of it. And when the time comes for me to take your soul, you won't feel a thing. It'll be as painless as falling asleep."

She scoffed again.

"Or look at the alternative." He shrugged lightly, spreading his hands. "A world where Bucky is gone, dead, decomposing and where you were ready to die anyway. Why fight it? I'm giving you what you wanted, what you've always wanted. Peace. It's a win for both of us."

She shook her head slowly. "You're offering me a fantasy."

"Does it matter?" He countered smoothly, his tone insidious. "If you're happy, isn't that enough?"

"No. Because it isn't real."

His smile faltered, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something darker beneath his collected exterior. His head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing. "You're throwing away a gift. You're being stubborn for no reason. It's not everyday I try to make a deal."

She didn't answer, her hands slipping into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the key she'd kept hidden there. She was running out of time, and she knew it. But even as her pulse raced, she forced herself to stand her ground, to keep her focus sharp. "No."

When she said that, she expected an eruption. Screaming, rage, destruction. Maybe even the walls closing in or the floor swallowing her whole - something drastic, in other words. Instead, he rose from the couch slowly, his movements graceful, and began to walk toward her.

And she froze on the spot. Yep, that was it.

Her breath caught as he stopped just a foot in front of her. She clenched her fists, expecting him to do something monstrous - maybe unhinge his jaw and devour her like some Pennywise knockoff.

But he didn't do it.

He stood there, watching her with a small gentle smile, and then something happened that made her stomach churn: the buttons were gone.

In their place were his eyes - his real eyes. The eyes she thought she'd never see again.

And for a brief, terrible moment, she felt her resolve flicker. Weak as fuck.

"Better?" He asked softly, his voice low, soothing. It wasn't mocking, not yet. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

"Stay with me." He took another step closer, and she couldn't help but obey, her gaze locking onto his. They were perfect. Too perfect. They shimmered with the same intensity, the same warmth that used to make her feel at home.

But that wasn't him. It never had been. What stood before her was a monster, a creature that preyed on children's souls that needed to be erased from existence. And so, she looked at him - no, it - with a strange mixture of confidence and what might have been stupidity. "You're a parasite." She said, her voice low but steady.

His expression flickered, his smile faltering ever so slightly. Then he took a single step back, the movement jerky, unnatural. He exhaled, long and measured, before giving a lazy shrug. "And you're an insect." He replied, his tone dripping with nothing but venom.

It was then that his is body began to shift: it was stretching, contorting unnaturally. His form became taller, skeletal, the sickly pallor of his skin giving way to something that resembled cracked porcelain. His features twisted, the soft curve of his face warping into a hideous mockery of a mask, all fractured. And then there was the back: it arched and bent unnaturally, forming a hump.

The thing - this creature that had pretended to be Bucky - now stood before her in its true form. Or maybe it wasn't true at all, just another carefully crafted horror. Its voice, now feminine, cut through the silence.

"I tried to accommodate you, you know." The creature said, almost wistful. "Tried to meet your interests. I could have stayed in that lovely skin, played the perfect role. Because I'm not a monster." The words, said by the monster-looking thing, were spat out with an edge of mockery, as if daring her to contradict. "But you refused my terms."

But the worst part arrived when the room began to twist. The floor buckled under her feet, the walls rippling and the furniture splintered, shifting violently as if the house itself were alive. She stumbled back just as the television slid across the floor with a deafening crash, almost hitting her.

"Wanda, now would be a great time!" She shouted, panic creeping into her voice as she scrambled to keep her balance. The monster's distorted face twisted into a grin - glad to know at least one of them was amused by the situation.

"Wanda? The red witch?" The Beldam's cracked lips twisted into a not-so-beautiful smile, its voice dripping with venom. "She's going to retrieve your corpse by the time I'm done with you."

Its words were sharp, cruel, and brimming with confidence, the very only thing she was starting to lose. And why wouldn't they be? The creature had spent lifetimes trapping the prey, playing this twisted game. But if there was one thing she understood in all that mess, it was that the Beldam couldn't simply kill her - not yet. It needed the ritual, the buttons.

And she wasn't about to give it.

The Beldam lunged with all the grace of a marionette with its strings pulled too tight, jagged and jerking. Instinct screamed at her to run and her gaze flickered to the small door, now slightly ajar. Wanda had done it.

She bolted, heart pounding, as she threw herself toward the door, skidding to her knees to fit through its narrow frame. Back to square one.

But the tunnel in front of her was nothing like she remembered.

The last time she'd entered this passage, it had been strangely comforting - sort of - with all those colours. Now it was cold and slightly dark (the only light came from the end of it), with spiderwebs all around. The air felt heavy, thick with decay, and the faint echoes of a child's scream - high-pitched and distorted - sent a shiver down her spine. It felt like other souls had been trapped in there.

She crawled as fast as she could, her palms scraping against jagged rocks of the floor. Every sound seemed amplified: her panicked breaths, the frantic scuffle of her knees and hands on the uneven ground, and the guttural growls of the Beldam chasing after her. That was the main thing.

It was chasing her.

"You think you can run from me?" The creature yelled, her voice echoing through the confined space.

Her hands brushed against something soft, and she froze for a split second, looking down. A tiny, tattered scarf lay in the dirt. Further ahead, she spotted more pieces of clothing and different toys. Her stomach twisted. These weren't just discarded remnants; they were pieces of lives stolen. But she couldn't stop there, so she tossed the scarf aside and forced herself to continue.

Behind her, the Beldam's nails scraped against the walls, the sound sharp and grating, like knives on bone. "You can run, little fly." The Beldam crooned, her voice sickeningly sweet. "But you can't escape the web."

She found herself agreeing with something the creature had said: "Curiosity killed that cat." It seemed to be the center of it all, the fatal allure of wanting to see more, to know more. Against her better judgment, she tilted her head, wanting to see just how close the Beldam had gotten.

Too close. Not good.

The creature was increasing her speed, and then she felt it.

Icy fingers wrapped around her ankle, the claws slicing into her skin like shards of glass. The other hand clamped tightly around her leg, its grip bruising. Pain lanced up her body, sharp and immediate, and she let out a scream that echoed through the oppressive darkness. The Beldam's face loomed closer to hers.

"I told you, my doll." The creature snarled, the voice low, guttural, and dripping with malice. "You can't get away from me. This is your resting place."

"I thought that losing your temper was out of character for you." She spat out.

Panic surged through her veins, spurring her into wild, desperate action. Her heel struck out, connecting with the Beldam's stomach again and again, each blow sending shockwaves up her leg. The creature shrieked, an unholy, earsplitting wail that made her teeth ache. She could feel the grip on her ankle loosening ever so slightly.

With one final, frantic kick, she managed to wrench her leg free.

Scrambling forward, her fingers tore into the ground, clawing at the dirt and sharp stones in a desperate attempt to put as much distance between them as possible. Blood was coming out from the long scratches on her leg, the was pain sharp, but she didn't stop. She couldn't, not when she was so close to the end of that nightmare.

And, in fact, the cold air smacked her in the face as she was yanked out of the tunnel by two strong hands. Her senses were all over the place - ears ringing, vision blurry, her hair plastered across her eyes. Instinct kicked in, and she started swinging, her fists connecting with a solid chest.

"Whoa! It's me, it's me! Don't hit me!"

The voice cut through her panic, and the grip on her wrists was firm. She froze, her breath still caught in her throat.

"Steve?" She rasped, squinting as she tried brushed her hair out of her face. And there he was. No button eyes, no cracked mask or creepy shit. Just Steve. Her friend Steve.

At the sight, relief flooded her body so fast it made her knees wobble. But before she could say anything else, something moved behind her, making the relief immediately disappear and her stomach dropped again.

She turned around just in time to see the Beldam almost dragging itself out of the tunnel. The skeletal arms bent at unnatural angles, and without thinking, she lunged for the little door. Even though her hands were shaking badly, she managed to slam it shut just as the Beldam's claws reached the edge. The creature screeched but she pressed her whole body against the door, on the floor, throwing her weight into it.

Her fingers shook as they fumbled in her pocket, searching desperately until they finally closed around the key she had been keeping with her the whole time, just in case. She yanked it out, nearly dropping it as she tried to shove it into the lock. Her hands were so unsteady it took her two tries before the key slid in. With a hard twist, she turned it, hearing the solid click that echoed louder in her head than it probably was.

The sound of the lock snapping into place felt final, but the silence that followed was somehow worse. She leaned against the door, the back of her head pressing into its wooden surface as her body felt on fire. But she had done it, so it was over... right?

Wrong. Because then came the voice.

"My love." It said, soft and broken, sounding like a plea. And especially, sounding like Bucky. Her entire body stiffened at the sound, her blood running cold. It wasn't him - she knew that. Of course she did. But him or not, it was the sound of his voice and that only ripped her heart apart.

Cherry on top, that was probably gonna be the last time she'd ever hear it, and it was a monster who wanted to eat her.

"Please, don't do this to me." The voice continued, trembling with pain and desperation. "It's dark in here. Cold. Like a coffin. Is that what you want for me? You want me to die again?"

Her hands shot up to her ears, pressing against them so hard she thought she might crush her own skull. She didn't want to hear it. She couldn't hear it. The voice was cutting through her like a blade, twisting the parts of her that were already broken.

"Please come with me. I need you. I'll die without you!" The voice rose in pitch, frantic now, filled with anguish.

"Shut up!" She felt something warm slide down her leg and finally looked down. Her jeans were soaked with blood, she almost forgot about that. The gashes from the Beldam's claws weren't small - deep scratches ran from just below her knee to the top of her foot. But there was no pain, none at all, like her body hadn't registered the damage yet like it did earlier. The blood just kept flowing, though, a steady rhythm that felt almost disconnected from her own body.

"My love!"

"Make it stop!" She rasped, her voice cracking. Her glare snapped to Steve, standing a few feet away, his face pale and tight. He was staring at the door, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might break.

"Steve!" She shouted, louder this time, and his eyes finally moved to her, wide and haunted. For a second, it looked like he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. She hated the way he was looking at her, like she was something fragile about to shatter, or worse, like he wasn't sure what was real anymore. She knew why.

Because it sounded like him.

She could see it in Steve's face - the way his brows knitted together, the doubt in his eyes. He wasn't questioning what the Beldam could do; he wasn't stupid, and probably Wanda had told him everything there was to know. But hearing Bucky's voice, hearing him say things like that - Steve's best friend, his brother who died to protect him - had shaken something in him.

The door shook behind her as the Beldam pounded on it, and her whole body flinched.

"Doll, please!" The voice wailed, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Don't let me die! Don't let me die again!" The sound of the pounding was brutal, each thud making her shoulders tense, each word slicing through her resolve like a knife.

"Wanda!" She yelled, though her voice was ragged, desperate. "Just finish it!" She couldn't take much more. She could feel herself unraveling, bit by bit. The voice - the lie - was breaking her.

The witch was floating a few feet off the ground in the middle of the living room, her legs crossed, surrounded by that red glow. She looked like she was in a trance, her face blank and distant. Probably doing her witchy things to close that portal or whatever that was.

Steve crouched down beside her, his hand hovering awkwardly near her arm, unsure if she'd even let him touch her. His eyes darted down to her leg, and she saw the flicker of alarm flash across his face. "You're bleeding." He said softly, almost like he didn't want to startle her.

She opened her mouth to respond, but the Beldam's voice cut her off. "Just make it stop, Steve." And she wasn't talking about the bleeding. "Please, make it stop."

"I don't want to die again!" It sobbed, the words coming faster, harder, more frantic. "You love me, don't you? You love me!" The door rattled again, each impact making her stomach twist.

Steve swore under his breath, his jaw tight as he turned to the door. For the first time, he looked angry, his fists clenched at his sides. "That's not him." He muttered, more to himself than to her. But his voice wavered, just barely, and she hated how it made her chest hurt even more.

And finally, the pounding stopped. The voice cut off mid-sob, the sudden silence so sudden it made her head snap up. She turned just in time to see Wanda's feet hit the ground, her scarlet aura fading as she blinked back into focus.

"It's done." Wanda said, her voice steady but hollow, like she'd just clawed her way out of something terrible. "I sent that thing back where it belongs. It's over."

She stared at the witch, her body still pressed to the door, her hands still trembling. Her blood-soaked leg throbbed now, the pain finally catching up to her, sharp and relentless. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to feel. The voice was gone, but the damage was already done. It was like her chest had been ripped open, everything raw and exposed. She wasn't even sure if she was relieved.

Steve reached for her again, his hand finally landing lightly on her shoulder. "You're okay." He said, but there was a hesitation in his voice, like he didn't even believe his own words. "It's gonna be okay, honey. I'm never leaving your side again, and I'm never gonna let you be alone. Let's go back at the Compound. Back home."

She nodded mechanically, but she didn't feel okay.

Not even close.

She leaned against the doorframe for just a moment longer, her hands still trembling, her breath shallow and uneven. The house felt heavier now, like a husk drained of the nightmare it had been harboring, but it still reeked of that thing - his voice, his lies, his shadow.

Her lips parted, her voice rasping through the stillness. “I’m going to burn this house down.”

Wanda glanced at her sharply but didn’t argue, her expression unreadable, like she might’ve been thinking the same thing.

It took effort, but she pushed herself upright, her body stiff and screaming with every step as she moved toward the front door. The boards beneath her feet groaned, as though the house itself was protesting her escape. Steve was there in an instant, ready to steady her, but she shook him off, her movements stubborn and resolute.

She pushed open the front door, and the sunlight hit her face. Warm. Soft. Real.

She froze for a moment, letting the warmth seep into her skin. It was strange - wrong - how different the sun felt here. The sun had been there in the other world, too, bright and golden and constant, but it had been hollow. An imitation. This? This was real. It filled her lungs and stretched into her aching bones, like her body was remembering what it felt like to exist in the real world.

She stepped outside, the porch creaking beneath her weight, and the sight stopped her cold.

Alpine was there, sitting primly on the edge of the porch, her white fur gleaming in the sunlight. And just a few feet away, the black cat waited, his sleek body curled on the railing, tail flicking lazily. Same old story.

Her breath caught as the cat's blue eyes locked on hers. He didn’t move, but there was something in the way he stared - like he was sizing her up, judging her. And then, just for a moment, his eyes gleamed, something sharp and knowing passing within them.

She could almost hear the words he couldn't say.

It was nice meeting you.

"You can come home with me." The corner of her mouth twitched, the closest thing to a smile she could manage, and then the black cat turned, stretching languidly before hopping down from the railing. He sauntered off, his tail swishing high in the air, disappearing into the trees as if he had never been there at all. "Well, never mind."

Alpine padded over to her then, brushing against her leg gently, like she could sense the storm inside her. She reached down to scratch behind her ears, her fingers trembling but steadying with every stroke.

Steve stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on her back as he spoke, his voice gentle. “Let’s go. We need to get that leg looked at.”

She nodded, her gaze lingering on the house one last time, the weight of its presence still pressing against her chest. She knew she’d never come back here.

As they started down the steps, her voice was steady. “I was serious earlier. This house is going to burn. Every last piece of it.”

The three of them walked in silence, Alpine nestled securely in her arms, her soft fur a small comfort after all she's been through. Steve and Wanda flanked her on either side, close but not suffocating, their presence grounding. And this time, she let them. She let them be there, let them help her, the way she should have from the start. She let Steve’s hand rest gently on the small of her back, steadying her when her legs threatened to give out. She let Wanda speak, her voice a quiet murmur as she explained how they had found her - how they had rushed to the Pink Palace the second they realized she had left her old house, how they had followed every possible lead, refusing to let her disappear.

She had tried so hard to push them away after Bucky died, drowning in grief, convincing herself that she had to bear it alone. But they never left. They never listened. And now, standing between them, she was grateful for that.

Because she wasn’t alone. She had never been alone. And she never would be. She had people to live for, people she cared about.

And even if living without the love of her life was going to be agonizing, she had to do it. For herself. He could - would - live through her: in every step she took, in every breath she fought to take. Until the day they truly met again.

[sthenoaloraquest]

🌩 Onyx Storm Spoilers and Theories

The Zehyllna Zinhal Gift Game

The "gift" game seems to be predictions for the future of all the characters that are still alive and played it.

Mira, being the first to pick, gets a wine bottle. At the end of ch. 58, her throat gets sliced, and she is actively bleeding out.

Maren receives two orange tunics. I am assuming to spot where her brothers are when the last Venin attack happens and she goes to save them.

Dain gets slapped. Now, either he is betrayed since people tend to phrase betrayal as a "slap in the face," or it's to the brief pain he encounters when letting Sloane siphon magic from him to give to Brennan. Who could have betrayed him? I think it's Aetos Sr or Panchek. In Xaden's POV, we know Panchek has been feeding venin information. Aetos Sr might have been an accomplice in this.

Garrick is given a rusted steel bucket. At the end of Imogen's POV, she has an idea. I think Garrick collects the alloy-hilted daggers in his bucket.

Aaric receives a fractured hand mirror that cuts his thumb. This I see more as foreshadowing him being a precog. He might be able to see several different scenarios, and one scenario ends in blood shed. (The other thing it could hint at, but I doubt it. Aaric joined the riders quadrant for the same reason Xaden and the marked ones sneaked out weapons. To defend the people of the Continent and defeat the venin. If Aaric was meant to get a second signet for the same reason the marked ones were, he might go insane instead. Other than bad luck, broken mirrors can suggest that something is broken within you.)

Xaden gets an empty box the size of his foot, with pewter hinges and edges. I do not know how big dragon eggs are, but seeing how Violet could give a shell to Courtlyn, i think the box is for the missing dragon eggs. Or forshadowing Xaden fully turning since venin don't have feelings

Violet gets (supposedly) a broken compass with a needle that doesn't point anywhere near north. This could be a few things. She has an argument with Brennan about how she picks to save everyone, and Brennan wants her to pick between saving the people or saving Xaden. She is missing 12 hours of information at the end of the book and lost her sense of direction. Or her fighting between not wanting to be a leader and being a leader.

Cat is given a gold necklace with a dangling ruby the size of Violet's thumb. Two things: either, she ends up dangling off the side of a cliff, or the ruby might be something special to use as a bargaining chip to get information from someone.

Drake is given Broccoli or "the claw." Drake went back to Cordyn (with broccoli, RY hinted to that in an interview), and who is Tecarus close too? Courtlyn. And what was Courtlyn's beautiful creature? Panthers. Drake might be working in getting Courtlyn to join the war somehow or secure trade of weapons from Violet's deal.

(And to whoever reads this, I know what you're thinking: "But stheno you're forgetting someone." No, I'm not. I'm just actively avoiding it and will not be putting bad vibes out there against Ridoc "good thing I fuck like a third/I hate sewing/I kept the inside voices on the inside" Gamlyn. I know what it could mean in a literary sense, but I'm going to think of it as he gets a great idea and someone kisses him on the mouth for it. Point. Blank. Period. With a scenario as innocent as that, why analyze it? He makes it out alive in book four, ok? OK?!.......... ok, I need to calm down and touch some grass 😂)

[pinkyplushiemaker]

New 2025 Commission Information

Commission Information and Terms of Service

Information on Artist.

I started my plush work in 2013. I have worked hard on developing my style and process over the years. I create my embroidery and patterns from scratch, so everything I make is one of a kind. I do not sell my patterns because they are not normal and only I can understand how they come together. I live in West Virginia, USA. I can ship all over the country and internationally. I live in a dog, bird, and reptile friendly home. I love anime/manga, superhero movies/tv/comics, horror movies, animals, art, and making plushies.

My Plush Work

I work with minky fabric since it’s the highest quality I can use to make my work the best quality possible. I can also use faux furs, long pile minky, mochi fabric, fleece, and cotton if needed (or requested). I use upholstery thread when sewing my plush together. The thread is incredibly strong and the chances of pieces coming apart are very low. If they do come apart (very uncommon), just message me and I will fix and reinforce the piece.

My work is considered “art”, not factory produced for the general public. This means that they are unique and special, but it also means they are not really meant to be handled roughly, crushed, and/or given to very small children. They are pretty durable since they are plush, but any material can wear over time when they are over “loved” (lol). Taking them on adventures, and carrying them around is totally welcomed, just please go easy on the tug and pull <3

Ordering a Plush

Please feel free to reach out to me through Twitter (X), Tumblr, Instagram, or Facebook. I do my best to answer as soon as possible, but you are welcome to message again in case I have not replied after a few days. (I can get busy with the Plush Business, my full-time job, and taking care of my pets.)

Let me know what you are looking to have made. (I can make humans, animals, creatures, cars, robots etc.) Let me know what size and style you are thinking of and if there is a certain time you would like to have it made by. (It normally takes about 2-4 weeks, it depends on if I need to order anything specific.) Please provide images if possible (if you want something unique and only have a description, I can do a rough concept of the character for you, or if you would like to commission me to do art of the character, please feel free to request it). Once I have this information, I will give you a price quote. The quote will only be for the plush, this will not include the shipping or taxes. If you agree to the price, I will request an email from you and will send an invoice. It will list all the details for the transaction, including shipping and tax. The invoice is through PayPal Goods and Services, so we are both protected.

Once the payment is made, you are added to the queue. Before I start on the plush, I will create a concept for it. In this stage (and only in this stage) you are welcome to make any updates to the design. (For example: preferring a different color, wanting the eyes to be bigger, not wanting a certain part included etc.) I will do my best to get as close to the concept as possible. It will never be exact, but I do normally get really close. After the concept is finished, I will share fabric colors to ensure they are right.

Once everything is approved, I will create the pattern and embroidery files. Next, I will embroider the fabric and cut out the pattern. Finally, I will sew the plush together and share the final plush in our communication. I will need you to share the preferred name and address for the shipment. Once this information is provided, I will pack up the plush and send it out. I will provide the tracking when it is on its way.

Shipping the Plush

My standard shipping is first-class and using a waterproof bubble mailer envelope. This keeps the shipping as low as possible. ($7 within the US, $25 International)

For 2025, I am offering priority and over-night shipping (overnight only available in US). I am also offering the option to ship within a box instead of a bubble mailer. These options will be much higher prices and can be discussed while setting up the commission.

Please note, once I ship a plush and provide a tracking number. It is out of my hands.

Canceling a Commission

You have 1 week after ordering to cancel a commission. If I ordered materials for the project, it will be deducted from the total.

If a plush is not correct (and it is due to my mistake), I can grant a full refund. Unless I am able to fix the issue. The mistake would be due to me not using the correct color fabric, missing an important detail from the concept etc. Just not liking a plush or deciding you don’t want to pay for a plush once it is made are not valid reasons. I have various examples of my work and before commissioning me, please review my pages to make sure you like my style and quality.

Final Note

I am more than happy to work with someone to make a plush they can afford and love. Since all of my plush are custom and I make all the patterns and embroidery, I can make adjustments easily. For example, I can make the plush smaller and contain less details. I will be happy to explain what parts are causing the higher price and we can work out other options. I believe PayPal has options to make multiple payments too, so I can still get full payment and you wont need to pay in full right away.

Thank you for reading!! I hope I can bring your favorite characters to life 😊

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hello. I'm, um, not entirely sure how to talk about this. I hope it's okay if I misspeak. I'm a human, right, so I think that needs to be clear more than anything, but I've been very involved in the creature community for years now. I live by a great big lake and I always liked to walk down the shore late at night or early in the morning, you know, just to try and get out of my own head, and one night ages ago I accidentally tripped over someone's jacket and twisted my ankle. It was a gorgeous fur jacket, too, not like any kind of fur I'd seen in a jacket before, but just stunningly soft and thick as Hell.

Now, of course I didn't take it, that'd be awful, but also I had just hurt myself in kind of a nasty way and so it wasn't like I had anything else to do but sit by the shore next to the jacket and waited, and yeah, a few hours later one of the lake seals popped its head out of the water, looked at me for a good long while, and then...well, I mean, you know how the rest of the story goes, I'm sure.

Anyway, it's been a few years now and I've become really close to this family. I didn't really know anyone in my town before meeting them and I'm not on speaking terms with my own folks, so in a lot of ways these people have become my family, and it's an honor that they trust me to keep guard of their cloaks and such when they go out. But I've got this problem, right, and it's just...over the years it's felt less and less like I fit in with other humans. All my friends are nightfolk now, my family hates me even more because they're bigots--in this night and age, can you fucking believe it--and it's just like every night I get further and further away from the shore.

I'm just scared because...I don't *want* to stop drifting away. I've had dreams of joining them down there in the lake, practically every night for months on end. I've tried doing research into methods of joining the community but I don't want to become a vampire, I don't fancy any lunar-aligned nonsense, nothing has felt right except selkies, but I can't decide if I'm just self aware enough that I need a push from an outside viewer to try and accept something I already know full well...or if no, actually, that little voice in my stupid head that won't go away that keeps calling me a fraud, an invader, an appropriator--what if the reason it's not going away is because it's right and I really don't belong?

Just...please be honest with me. Am I a complete asshole for spending hours every day trying not to just outright beg my family--sorry, chosen family--to help me sew myself a cloak, or is there something to this?

First of all, reader, please rest assured. As long as you are speaking from a place of kindness and a willingness to learn, you don't need to worry about using all the correct terminology. I always try to listen generously when people come to me in need, and I encourage our followers to do the same.

Unfortunately I can well believe that bigots like your biological relatives still exist. I'm glad you've been able to extract yourself from their hateful society, and have found comfort, support and kinship among the nightfolk.

You say there is a little voice in your head calling you a fraud, casting doubt on the validity of your feelings. As much as you might want to push it away and stop your ears, I want you to listen to that voice, just for a little while. Pay attention to the language it uses and what ideas it seems to have about the world.

And then ask yourself: is this my voice? Does that sound like me? Or does this sound like a last, desperate, wriggling remnant of the people I've worked so hard to distance myself from?

Every one of us is raised with a narrative, a story about the world and our place in it, and how we should treat the people around us. We're told that story by our parents, by our teachers and schoolmates, by television and books and a million other sources. The story is so vast and so all-encompassing, it takes an enormous effort to be able to see any single part of it clearly.

Imagine, then, how hard we have to work to realise some of that story is untrue, or harmful, fed by hatred and fear. To start untangling ourselves from the rotting, strangling roots of the story we've known all our lives, and start planting something new and fresh and honest.

It sounds to me like this little voice is one of those lingering strands of the story you were raised with – one where liminality is nothing to admire or strive for, and where you cannot be trusted to know your own mind, and your own needs. It's time to tell yourself a better story.

You've found people who honour you with their trust and who make you feel supported and loved, as you deserve. You admire them, and want to be like them. None of this sounds “stupid” to me.

This is not a decision to be taken lightly. By all means, take your time, and talk your feelings through with your family. But I think you already know what story you want for yourself, reader – and for what it's worth, I think the world will be better for its telling.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[notnights]

your gangle cosplay is really cool, do you have any tips for someone trying to make their own?

Thank you! I appreciate it. And it depends on what you're going for with it! I've seen a lot of different Gangle cosplayers with different interpretations which are creative and fun to make I imagine! So I can't really advise any specifics on crafting etc since I don't know what you're going for.

For me when I cosplay I want to get as "accurate" as I can with the character design. I unfortunately am not very good at sewing and shaping and stuff but you can see that didn't stop me, I made it as well as I could. And Gangle is obviously one of the more difficult characters I've ever decided to cosplay so wasn't ever going to be accurate with her unless I did like... a puppet method or something. (From my understanding this falls under the "creature" cosplay category?)

Idk if these will help at all, but it's good to start with visualizing ideas you want to try for before hand:

Ideas for a Navi, Bill Cipher and Gir from Invader ZIM cosplays that went no where.

Thinking outside the box also helps in the sense of, other forms of crafting, skills or items, you wouldn't think to use might help with what you're making!

Examples:

I used fursuit methods to help build my NiGHTS cosplay, I also used quilting methods to help make Gangle's ribbon limbs.

When making Circus Baby I wanted an exhaust fan that actually spun, turns out there are plenty of tutorials on how to make your own fidget spinners so used that method to make a light weight one out of cardboard and pennies for that piece! When making Gangle 2.0 to keep the shape I wanted to infuse wire into the edges of the ribbon limbs. The best method for this would have been to hand sew floral wire to an extra piece of fabric with fishing wire, then sew that one in with the edges of the the limbs. I however was only 1 and a half week away from a con and still had a ton of pieces to finish so I got a bunch of cheap wired ribbon, and infused those inside the limbs. (Kept the shape well enough but I'm at the point where I want to remake them again lol.)

Instead of using traditional adhesives like hot glue, maybe something like silicon adhesive can be used and other more hardware based unities can be used. Hardware stuff in general helps. Similar stuff they sell at craft stores can often be found cheaper at hardware stores. I've had the benefit that my father is a handyman so I grew up with a lot of that tool usage, and loved going to hardware stores with him because sometimes I'd find something that would make me be like "WAIT I CAN USE THIS For that art project I've been trying to do."

This admittedly also comes from my doll customization hobby, which believe it or not, has a lot of power tool usage to make those pretty little dolls! Some of these things I used for my Gangle. Making cute ribbon outfits or bows for dolls, you have to burn the edges of the ribbon you've cut, least it fray (in Gangle 1.0. each ribbon you see has been lovely burnt by candle LOL) when Gangle 2.0's ribbon fabric it would run after getting snagged on stuff, I made a "sealer" I'd use for making doll wigs. Watered down glue (this case Modge podge because its already watery) and painted it over any places that would receive a lot of friction as the solution admitted made the satin a tiny bit duller so didn't want to paint the whole thing with it.

Sometimes you can use the methods/shapes from existing clothing to help you make what you want. When I made my NiGHTS cosplay I found a little decorative halloween jester hat which I used as a reference to make a pattern for NiGHTS' hat/horns.

Speaking of, and also in relation to that hardware thing. Thrift shops are a great way to find random pieces of stuff you think can help with your project especially if they're going to be items you cut up/modify anyways. I wanted the illusion of floating when making my NiGHTS and musing about a Tatsumaki cosplay so wanted to use tacky clear platform heels to make it happen lol. And thrift shops have a ton of used shoes. I only needed the platform part and remove the straps so didn't need anything brand new. While I didn't find clear ones at the time I did find other platforms that helped with my NiGHTS, the feet were so big on the costume it shadowed the heels anyways and kept the illusion. (bonus concept of that Tatsumaki idea)

When I needed a squeaker for a cosplay piece I just bought a 99 cent dog toy and disemboweled it for one. In the same kind of "cheat" I just got a wielding mask, removed the mask part, and attached my Gangle mask to it to make a way method to take it on and off.

Anyways that was a lot of examples, but they're times when my dumb dumb brain was like "wait!!! I don't have to do this the hard way and get what I'm looking for!!" and it saved me from said hard way of getting what I wanted.

[feartoxinjelloshot]

I would love to know some backstories of the Rogues in your Batman AU

this is a very broad question considering how many rogues i have in my au, so i'll start out by linking some of them which i have elaborated on before to various degrees, and if you have further questions about them feel free to ask specifically:

POISON IVY

SCARECROW - SCARECROW - MORE SCARECROW (his backstory is kind of convoluted and scattered around. i get a lot of asks about him)

BLACK MASK (somewhat outdated - i intend to update it at some point)

MAD HATTER

KILLER MOTH

NINA & DEIRDRE

CALENDAR QUEEN

PROF. PYG

and here's the cliff notes on some obvious players not mentioned above - again, if you want more specific elaboration, or anyone else i forgot, feel free to ask:

THE JOKER: i guess this is a bit of a spoiler if you like ambiguity, but i've said it on this blog many times already so there's really no point in being coy about it - the joker in my au is an extra-dimensional eldritch creature who, quite literally, eats chaos to survive. it possesses the body of an ACE chemicals employee named Jay Doe after it influences them into jumping into a vat of acid where "the veil between worlds is thinner in that unstable substance" (per writing of mine). the joker is obsessed with the balance between comedy and horror that generates the "food" it needs to survive in our dimension. very few people in-universe are aware of the joker's origin or the true extent of its abilities. it is a genuinely unlikable creature bur very lonely at its core, as it is the only one of its kind on earth and cannot easily exit back to its old dimension. Jay Doe's soul is still around, though kept separate from the body via storage in the joker's personal pocket dimension, the "funhouse" (mainly used for storage to enable looney-tunes esque physical gags, but can be put to much more sinister use. this funhouse is also where the joker puts jason todd.)

HARLEY QUINN: Harleen Quinzel was a fairly average woman who made a comfortable salary at her job working as a psychiatrist at Arkham State Hospital. She was also deeply miserable. The constraints of the cookie-cutter life and career path she was forced into by the expectations of her controlling mother and other adults around her instilled a pervasive repressed need to escape from her own life and "do something wrong". She encountered the joker during one of his on-and-off stints in captivity at Arkham and immediately - and unwillingly - became infatuated with the sense of unique nonconformity he seemed to embody. The following affair between them was less about the joker's manipulation and more about harley grasping for power in the only way she knew how (through the joker did inarguably have his own part in it, because he liked harley and saw her as a potential cure for his lonliness). Eventually it culminated in her own descent into the same acid vat that had "transformed" Jay Doe, but rather than possession, harley emerged with a... heightened sense of clarity about herself and the world around her. The acid also had some malignant effects on her, gradually causing her skin to rot and fall off her body. She compensated by sewing herself back together with colorful patches of fabric. I wrote a rather long fanfic about harley and the joker's relationship (and following breakup) for 2023's nanowrimo, which sadly has not been released yet because i am still editing it. hopefully one day soon it will reach the public.

THE RIDDLER: The riddler's conception is a little fuzzier than other backstories I have, because I'm still working on it, but the main gist of it is that Edward Nygma (born E-------- Nashton) spent many years essentially singlehandedly raising his younger brother, William Nashton. They lived alone with their father (their mother having left the picture years earlier) who was a chronic deadbeat, physically abusive, an alcoholic for good measure, and altogether put very little effort into raising his own children. Edward was a very strange child from the get-go and over time and circumstance his asynchronicities developed into a compulsive need for control and structure. He turned to his most genuine talent - puzzle-solving - and put it to work where it seemed most logical: computers. Edward became a very dedicated and effective hacker, largely by his methods of viewing code as a literal cipher or riddle that he had to untangle to "win". He gained a genuine reputation for the obscure and highly guarded databases he was able to gain access to, which generally served to inflate his ego. Meanwhile, two things: one, the more stress he was put under, the more his obsessive worldview began to take over other parts of his life, especially interpersonal ones - especially his interactions with his father and other antagonistic figures in his life. he became convinced that if he could "solve" the "pattern" of their behaviors, he could escape their abuse or in a sense control them. Two, these insecurities expanded to target his deeply protective instincts over his little brother, who around the time Ed was, say, sixteen or so, in a completely random accident, got hit by a car while crossing the street with Edward (who was spared) and later died from his injuries. Edward's father blamed him for this event, despite Ed having no possible control over the situation. The trauma of his brother's sudden death caused Edward's psychological state to degrade quickly and devastatingly. He began to devote his "puzzle-solving skills" largely to esoteric coping mechanisms, and expressed that if he could "find the pattern in the world around [him]" he could prevent an accident "like that" from happening again, to anyone, ever. His obsessions later expanded to focus upon the Batman, who at the time was less of a public figure and more of a local ghost story - the ultimate mystery for Edward to solve, and prove everyone else wrong, and finally win.

CATWOMAN: Selina Kyle's backstory is fairly straightforward compared to the above tales and hasn't been tampered with very much since its original conception. She grew up very poor and in an unhappy household; as a child she spent a lot of time with her kid neighbor Effy Lynns (later Firefly), who was also in a bad familial situation, and they began to view each other as siblings. As adults they moved into an apartment together. Selina was never very well off, but scraped by working odd jobs over the years, most notably a job at the local animal shelter, which she was genuinely happy at - unusual luck for her. She liked it so much, in fact, that she was trying to save money up to finally finish her degree, so that she could start to pursue a career as a veterinarian. During this time she also lived in an apartment above a chain pharmacy. Her "criminal" career was kicked off when her she learned that her downstairs neighbor, an elderly woman who she was fairly close with, had been denied by insurance to receive insulin due to a gap in coverage and, as she couldn't afford a trip to the emergency room, was in danger of dying. As she lived right above a pharmacy, Selina saw the workers going in and out every day and knew what the code to the back door was. She also knew which breaker would turn the power to the security cameras off. Well, her neighbor was too grateful to really care about where she got the medication from, and Selina asked for nothing in return, except to call if she needed help again. Was it against the law? Sure. Was it a crime? No. Selina never faced any consequences for her actions that day, and was instilled with a (perhaps unearned) sense of confidence - she had learned how easy it was to steal. Her ambitions expanded somewhat worrying quickly, though she resolutely stuck to ethical targets - chain stores, corporations, and eventually the homes of the ultra-wealthy. If asked, selina would say - truthfully so - that it was a genuinely good-hearted attempt at redistribution of wealth. What she was less willing to admit was that there was a significant element of adrenaline-seeking and even kleptomania to it that she wasn't ready to confront in herself. She was doing all the right things for all the wrong reasons. The only harm, she supposed, was to herself.

FIREFLY: Like I mentioned in the previous entry, Firefly is the eventual vigilante identity* of Effy Lynns, Selina's adopted sibling. Effy worked for many years in an oil refinery to make ends meet. It was hard, grueling work and the floor workers were treated badly in many respects. One day they were involved in a factory explosion that left them with third degree burns on the right side of their face, neck, shoulder and chest, along with blinding them in that eye and reducing the hearing of that ear. It was later made known to them that the accident was only allowed to occur because of the gross negligence and poor working conditions of their wealthy supervisors. They were also let go by the factory due to not being able to work any more, putting them in financial strife. Understandably, this series of events was a snapping point for Effy, and, inspired by Selina's nighttime activites, they adopted a fire-themed vigilante persona to enact public revenge against the corporate conglomerates that were ruining theirs and other people's lives. Effy's backstory is fairly vague and subject to change, since it's more recent than the others and therefore less developed. I haven't decided if their suit is their own invention or if they collaborate with some other source to design it.

*"Firefly" is actually just their full first name. Friends and family call them Effy more often. They start to embrace use of their full name when things go off the rails, though it only becomes known to the public after their (hypothetical) eventual apprehension.

MR & MRS FREEZE: Victor Fries and Nora Selvam met at a scientific convention in England in their twenties. Both of them had immigrated with their families in their teens, Victor from Russia and Nora from South India. They clicked immediately and were married a year later. Their story together doesn't deviate very far from typical batman canon, with the notable exception that in my version of the story, Victor is the one with an incurable terminal illness. Per usual Victor and Nora work together to attempt to push forward the research on Victor's illness, moving to Gotham somewhere in the process. Over time they both get more desperate, facing their own respective demons: Victor becomes desolate and even suicidal, hopeless as to his own future; Nora becomes erratic and fixated, determined to prove her husband wrong and save him. She takes unreasonable risks for the sake of the research and Victor does nothing to stop her. Victor poses the idea of putting himself in cryostasis until a cure can be invented, not really believing in the idea, mostly just wanting to die in the ice. Nora, though, latches onto the idea and begins working on designs for a stasis machine. She overworks herself to the point where she can no longer recognize dangerous flaws in its internal structure. When the machine is "complete" she has Victor come to the lab and offers to demonstrate the effects of the pod on a butterfly for him. He accepts, curious, and she does, but upon the subsequent unfreezing of the butterfly, it lies cold and unmoving. Frightened and demotivated, they get into a heated, emotional argument, which distracts them fatally from the stabilization alarms sounding on the cryostasis machine. The world turns white. When Victor returns to consciousness his skin is blue and bruised, like a frostbitten corpse, and every breath feels like ice stabbing through his lungs. The lab is encased in an explosion of unmeltable ice, kept supernaturally cooled by the malfunctioning power core of the machine. The lab becomes the only place that Victor can survive in without a cooling suit. The ice in the room is so thick and deep that he can't even see Nora's body inside. But she's in there, somewhere. She has to be. Right...? (Somewhere overhead a butterfly flaps by the skylight.)

TWOFACE: this is another story that is subject to change in the future, because i haven't decided on the exact details, but, Harvey Dent grew up with a physically and emotionally abusive father and an absent mother, as per much of his usual canon. He met Bruce Wayne when they were children and despite going to different schools, coming from different family backgrounds and living very different lifestyles, they made fast and inseparable friends with each other and were joined at the hip for much of their teenage years, even going to college together later in life. As his childhood progressed Harvey became increasingly and uncomfortably aware of "another him" in his head* - an alter, though he had no idea what that was at the time - who called itself Alastor**. Alastor served as Harvey's protector, facing their father's physical abuse instead of Harvey. Harvey was deeply ashamed and resistant to the idea of self-perceived mental illness and did everything he could to feign "normality", i.e. pretend that Alastor didn't exist, or at least that they were the same person. Bruce, being so close to him, had something of an idea that there was something going on with Harvey that he didn't know about - but Harvey was extremely resistant to the idea when Bruce attempted to bring it up, so he left it alone for a long time. Alastor did not have this hesitancy, Thus Bruce and Alastor met and knew each other to some degree without Harvey's knowledge. Despite his generally antagonistic views of almost everyone outside of the system, Alastor developed a begrudging "tolerance" (fondness) for Bruce as Bruce would treat him well in a general sense, having no reason to resent him, especially in their youth. Harvey's adult life also generally follows typical canon: he went to college with Bruce (and a young Thomas Elliot) where they remained close until Bruce suddenly dropped out and effectively fell off the earth, leaving Harvey to complete his studies and attend law school alone. Harvey nor Alastor ever really forgave Bruce for his disappearance and even when he reappeared in Gotham several years later, there was an awkward wedge between them. In his law career Harvey saw significant success, graduating from public defense to assistant DA to District Attorney at an admirable speed. His willingness to call out and prosecute the corruption in the city led to targets being put on his back, but he wasn't deterred and eventually started a campaign for mayor, promising to help make the city into something better. His campaign - though controversial - was ultimately successful. Unfortunately, the attention he attracted by his political outreach included that of a career criminal called the Joker. The Joker, being purely an agent of chaos, did not care about Gotham's politics by any means, except where they were funny to him - and watching Harvey Dent grapple his own brain for control was very funny indeed. Having been entranced by Harvey for several months, the Joker decided he was going to make a laughing-stock of him, on the day of his mayoral inauguration. The Joker broke into City Hall and, with a generous measure of spectacle, tied Harvey to a chair in front of every news camera he could find and ripped the left side of his face off. The Joker's abilities allowed this to be a largely harmless, albeit very painful, process. Harvey's career as mayor was over before it had begun. He escaped, humiliated and panicking, into the depths of the city, where he was not seen again for several months.

*Harvey probably has several other less distinctive alters, but Alastor is the most significant one and the one Harvey is most capable of recognizing.

**I wanted to give harvey's alter a name that wasn't just an altered version of harvey's own name. "Alastor" was taken from a fanfic i read a long time ago and have since hopelessly lost track of. Per google: "In Greek mythology, Alastor is an epithet of the god Zeus, meaning "avenger" or "defender of men". Alastor was also the name of a spirit or force that punished wrongdoing and upheld fairness. The name also symbolizes memory, as it conveys the importance of not forgetting wrongs." In canon, I imagine harvey read about the epithet in a book as a child and was influenced by it. Thus, i suppose Alastor is technically an introject.

[a-whispering-echo]

Hello, hi. I am here with a very fun specific question for Forgotten City

Because well, I was rereading it to make notes for these funky lil guys and their appearances (for no reason, don't worry about it, but I do kinda need an answer)

And I'm either blind or there isn't any mention of what Killer's clothes are or if he even has clothes

We obviously have Dusts seeing as... well, there is an illustration, and Horror had the description of heavy leathers and scales and layers, and all Killer has is, well, sharp

But yeah, I'm here to maybe possibly hopefully get an answer to my is Killer just silly spidering around with his bones and fucked up joints on full display

(...It would be funny if that's why he was laughing at Cross and his attempts at privacy..)

HELLO HELLO! YES I HAVE REFS! hajdhhal

(im currentl in the WORST stump of art rn and NOTHING is coming out how i want, so i HOPE this is PASSABLE, yk?)

He wears a red leather tunic - tunic from stoneborers skin, and dyed red with beetles! his bottoms are also leather, from the same creature, but dyed with coal and charred bones to get the black colour!

his belt was used to hold his tools to care for the gospum-tagul, a small rodent creature that the city dwellers used to farm for wool! that was his job! he loved them! the dye in that beige/light brown colour comes from boiling a kind of moss found in the caves, mixed with raw materials they find in the mines, like clay and dirt

the spikes on his clothing are metal, and were put there for his furry rodent friends to grip and climb on him when he was working, gave them something to grip onto while he moved, so they could stay closer to him!

Gospum-tagul eat a type fern called the Songsun fern, which makes 'music' when wind passes through it, as well as some types of hay and such like. Killer used to put these ferns all over his body when he fond them, so his friends could find them and take a nibble when they liked!

the teeth on his necklaces and such are from battles, because while he was an animal farmer, he also was a warrior, him and Horror both. they protected Dust in their life, kept him safe. they did they job well, and paid the price.

after his death, Dust removed his belt to keep him safe from sharp objects when he was dying, but kept his jewellery in, and bandaged a wound on his arm. once he HAD died and had come back, he took his knives and tools back, and, finding he didnt know where else to put them, decided to just slot them between his ribs and such like. and then as time went on, he got a BIT of a hoarding problem with The Shineies, and just kept adding more and more sharp things, and WHOOPS now hes mostly just knife.

his tunic was ripped and a good portion of it was removed, but he kept the damn thing it looks more like a crop top nowadays, and occasionally, Dust will snatch him to try and sew it up a bit to last another few hundred years or so.

all the people who lived in the cave never worse shoes, to note! they had much tougher and sturdier bottoms of the feed and hands, adapted to climb at walls and stone, and never thought of them! so, no shoesies for the boys! Cross finds this out later, much to his much softer hands and feets horror hehe

yee! ill shut up now, lololol

[thedrunkenreadersreviews]

An end-of-the-year confession...

Let's pop some champagne as we await the New Year.

Now, as the title demonstrates, I do have a confession to make, or rather, an opinion. My main focus is on male main characters (mmc) but I'll start with my short gripe on female main characters (fmc).

*Sip, sip*

I want more fmcs like Evangeline Fox from the Broken Heart trilogy. Or Sophie from Howl's Moving Castle. The book, not the movie.

I want more fmcs whose main goal is to find love. I want to read about a girl who loves pink and dresses, who is pinning over a boy, who sees the good in people even when most others don't. I want a girl who is not strong with a sword but strong in love. I want a girl who can save the world with love, not war, like Evangeline Fox. I want a girl who takes pride in doing what many deem to be typical feminine tasks like cooking, cleaning, and sewing. Some of the best moments in Howl's Moving Castle are the concoctions Sophie sews together. I want girls who find liberation in these typical feminine tasks like Sophie did; who enjoy them.

*Sip, sip*

And I want more male main characters in young/new adult in general but more mmcs like Cardan. I am so sick of the Rhysands and Xadiens and Kais and Dark whateverthefucks from Lightlark that are just copies and pastes of the same character over and over and over again. Some shadow-daddy with a massive dick who gets under the girl's skin and gives her a cringy nickname. Who is a warrior and several thousand (hundreds) years old and has slept with so many women that it is astounding how he does not have an STD (since condoms are not a thing in these books). The number one thing I disliked about Cardan was the promiscuity but damn at least Holly Black made it somewhat important to the plot and character development. But Cardan is one year older than Jude and still otherworldly! And he is not some big, muscular, warrior, shadow-daddy---he's a moody noodle. A MOODY NOODLE! (Another pet peeve is the fanart of him with a six/eight pack, like no, Jude is bigger than him in the muscle department.) I want my noodles!

*Sip, sip*

Male characters are critiqued so disgustingly in these romance/romantasy books that as an Asexual I really roll my eyes to the point that they nearly get stuck to the top of my head.

Masters of Death literally opens with Fox banging a client after she came to him to have a seance with her recently departed husband. Like, what?

The Selection series (as ass as it may be) gave me hope with Maxon. And then I read the script for the (thank the stars above!) canceled Selection TV series that was going to have Maxon's first scene be him banging some random maid in his bedroom. Like, WHAT?! He was a virgin in the books and was nervous about talking to girls. He hadn't even kissed anyone until America Singer! Even Mafi pissed me off with what she did with Warner when he and Juliette broke up for that short while. Like, seriously? He is utterly, devastatingly in love with this girl but you know, gotta stick it somewhere. 🤷 Emily Wilde's trilogy. I love it! But why does the mmc have to be such a hungry-for-sex creature and flaunt it in the fmc's face?! It adds absolutely nothing to his character, their relationship, or the plot!

*Sip, sip*

Am I supposed to have this information just so that I know they're good in bed or so heavily desired? It takes one sentence: "A string of broken hearts trailed behind them." BAM! That tells me everything I need to know. And even if so, why does their being good in bed matter? Is their status diminished if they are not? Why does the mmc have to have a slew of bodies in the past of their sheets in order to qualify for being an attractive companion while the fmc needs to be portrayed as having less history if not no history altogether? And this is not a male author issue. All of the examples I provided are books written by women. I really don't give a damn about their sexual history unless it is intrinsic to their character development, the plot, and/or their relationship with another character.

*Sip, sip*

I think Margaret Rogerson did this perfectly with Nathaniel. He is actively pushing girls away by trying to ruin his reputation and coming across as some evil sorcerer. Here are just some of the best quotes by Master Thorn regarding romance and his romantic life:

"'I've been hard at work trying to ruin my reputation for years. Perhaps after this, influential families will stop trying to catapult their unwed daughters over my garden fence. Which actually did happen once. I had to fend her off with a trowel.'"

"'Scrivener, I know I cut a devilishly handsome figure lying here on the floor all covered in blood----which I hear some girls find quite appealing, strangely enough, and if you're one of them I'm not going to judge---but please stop crying. It's only a flesh wound. I'll be back to fighting evil any moment now.'"

"Nathaniel nodded. 'If you can believe it, I used to fancy him. Then he went and grew that mustache. Or he murdered a gerbil and attached it to his face. For the life of me, I can't tell which.' ... 'I like girls too, Scrivener.” Amusement danced in Nathaniel’s eyes. “I like both. If you’re going to fantasize about my love life, I insist you do so accurately.'" (It should be noted that his bisexuality is never mentioned again, and I appreciate it so much as it normalizes it and that is what I want!)

"' [Silas] What is this, master - the third time I've broken you out of a jail cell?' Nathaniel coughed. 'Minor misunderstandings, on both previous occasions,' he assured Elisabeth. (….) [Silas] spoke mildly, his lashes shading his eyes. 'At least you're wearing clothes this time, master.' ... 'I'll have you know,' Nathaniel said, 'that that was an accident, and the public certainly didn't mind. One woman even sent me flowers.' To Elisabeth, he added, 'Don't worry. She was forty years old, and her name was Mildred.'"

On top of that, Rogerson does not go into heavy detail about his past. He does not flaunt to Elisabeth about how many partners he had in the past or how great a lover he is. It is summed up so nicely in those quotes which is pretty much all you get about Nathaniel's love life.

*Sip, sip*

Exuse me while I go reread A Sorcery of Thorns.

*Sip, sip*

But yeah. Shout out to V.E. Schwab who not all their mmcs are sex addicts, Laini Taylor, Shelby Mahurin (even though I didn't like Serpent & Dove I appreciated how Ried didn't have 100 random, faceless girls in his history), and ... and ... oh, shit, I think that's it.

If y'all have any more recommendations for these types of characters, let me know.

Cheers to a new year! And hopefully a better one for books.

*Sip, sip*