#I HAVE A REASON TO KNIT NOW AND PROBABLY TO QUILT

[shenzi-hemlock]

Tumblr ask: what is the newest/most recently completed project you’ve worked on?

So technically I worked on my personal blanket and got that one done. It’s not super big, only like 150 or 200 chains across (I forgor) and like 12-15 skeins long (I forgor) and it’s in Gryffindor colors. It’s my first crocheted project and I really wish the yarn shop I go to had more of that color yellow because this is my newest project (not finished, not by a long road):

The yellow in the background is the other blanket I crocheted and I wish I had more of that color because it’s just a stunning color. This new blanket is a temperature blanket and it’s gonna be really really REALLY long. Like “oh God, I did not think about this” long. So I’m excited to finish that!

And my mom recently sent me wool yarn for Christmas in the colors of the monarch butterfly and I want to make something with this shape:

Not necessarily the exact colors, just the big sleeves so it makes it look like a butterfly.

[roboticchibitan]

I used to work at JoAnn's and let me give you a tip. Don't buy fabric there if you can help it. It's overpriced low quality crap. You can absolutely find fabric for just as cheap online and if you're a "have to touch it before I know if I'll hate it or not" person lots of online places sell samples.

Case in point: Robert Kaufman Kona solids. I've seen claims online that the Kona solid quilting cotton, which is the highest quality quilting cotton solids JoAnn's sells, is different and lower quality than the Kona cotton you can get at a quilt shop. I can't speak to the validity of those claims but I 100% would not be surprised if it were true. But let's set that aside and just see how JoAnn's prices measure up.

As you can see, the regular price at JoAnn's is $9.99. The regular price at this random quilting online store I spent 20 seconds on duckduckgo to find is $7.95. Sure, the sale price is 15¢ cheaper at JoAnn's. But JoAnn's is constantly playing this "our fabrics are cheap because they're on sale! Don't look at how much they regularly cost anywhere else" psychological warfare game which I do NOT appreciate.

I'm sure if you looked harder than the 20 seconds I spent on duckduckgo you could find Kona cotton for cheaper than JoAnn's has it and you wouldn't have to wonder about the quality claims. And all their fabric is like this. Maybe a decade ago it was a good deal but now? There's a reason they've gone bankrupt.

Just because I could, I compared fabric wholesale direct's price for solid color polyester Jersey knit fabric, which is regularly priced at $5.99 and is currently on sale for $5.09. JoAnn's comparable fabric starts again at $9.99/yard and that fabric is currently on sale for $6.99. There are 10 colors of the JoAnn's $6.99 fabric and 45 colors of the FWD $5.09 fabric FWD does free shipping over $99 and flat rate shipping at $7.95 for anything below that. Depending on how much you buy, you'll potentially be paying the same or less for the FWD fabric and 1. It's probably higher quality and 2. There's 4 times as many color options.

JoAnn's is good for if you need less than a yard and have the time and ability to go to the store in person. And yeah, if you're shopping in person, you don't have to pay shipping. But the quality of all their fabric is low and the "sale" prices are around the same as a place with higher quality fabric.

I buy embroidery floss and thread at JoAnn's cuz embroidery floss is cheaper in person than on DMC's website and you can't trust product photos of thread to be color accurate. And I buy sewing notions there sometimes cuz it's convenient. But even the scissors I spent $30 on there a decade ago (who knows how much they are now) were $17 at Walmart when I lost the first pair and had to replace them 4 years later.

Also they treat their employees like shit and currently no one besides store managers gets health insurance through them because the only full time position in their stores is the store manager. And even before the bankruptcy they shortstaffed and did everything in their power to avoid paying for benefits and overtime. It was the worst job I ever had and that's saying something because I worked at Walmart and had a "this creepy guy went to JAIL over what he did to me" experience there.

[darsynia]

Heyyy. I hope ur requests are open. Anyways. Can I get a shot of tequila w/ Steve Rogers and the reader reunited after like 6 months apart because he went on the run and didn’t want to disrupt her life. Like maybe she was on Tony’s side in Civil War but helped Steve anyway because they were together since CA:WS. She tracks him down in Switzerland and he comes home to the safe house to see her heels by the door like they usually would be back in New York. Then he sees her sitting in the dark, save for the fireplace, and they argue about how he can try to leave but she will find him everytime because she loves him. So they have some “reunion fun” and maybe after, they’re having some pillow talk where she’s worried that he’s been with other women in 6 months apart. because let’s be fair, we can’t blame her. have you seen the nomad-hair ‘n beard?… 😭

Thanks for the request, nonnie! I couldn't work in the very last bit, but hopefully you'll enjoy. Rating is NC-17, minors DNI. 1,800 words. (I forgot to add, 180F is a good temperature for green tea--and yeah, a kettle would be in C probably but bear with me for the metaphor ❤️)

180

The chilly wind is not the reason Steve feels cold on his walk home. He’s living in a fully furnished home for the first time in six months, but nothing about the space feels welcoming. He can’t settle. Somehow the many barracks he’s lived in over the years made him feel more comfortable, and he knows the reason why.

You’re not there.

The thought stings, and he grits his teeth, keeping his eyes on the road. The last thing he wants to do is look familiar, and maybe that’s the problem. If he’s not allowed to be Steve Rogers, no amount of handmade quilts and cozy living room furniture will make him feel at home.

He rounds the corner, pulling out his key with a half of a block to go. The rental is quiet, out of the way, obscure, even. Half the time even he struggles to find it. From three houses away, he sees a pair of deep red heels next to his front door, as incongruous among the quaint townhomes in Willisau as a palm tree. The spasm in his chest isn’t something the serum in his veins can heal, but Steve tells himself nothing’s really there. He’s imagined your shoes waiting outside of almost every place he’s laid his head since he left, and now it’s Switzerland’s turn.

He studiously ignores his lintel as he unlocks the door and goes inside.

 Steve’s sure he’s right when everything is the same as he’d left it. You've never failed to leave your personal touch in his living spaces--a hand knit scarf hung next to his coats, a delicate bunch of flowers on the table in a vase he'd long ago forgotten he owned.

The orange of sunset stretches across the floor from a back window, and he can smell the tang of woodsmoke, a familiar occurrence in this neighborhood. It isn't until he puts his shoes and keys away and pads into the kitchen that he finally realizes he’s not alone.

The smoke smell isn’t from outside. The fireplace is lit, and when Steve steps into the doorway, he sees a familiar, precious silhouette. Even though you have to have heard him, you don’t turn around, so he chooses discretion as the better part of valor. You’ve always said a warm cup of tea is comforting after a long day, and it has been that.

He sets the temperature on the kettle, places two mugs, and then goes looking for tea, concern and frustration growing. You've never not greeted him, but those had always followed a goodbye, something Steve hadn't had the courtesy to give when he'd left. The first two cabinets yield nothing, and you haven’t spoken or come in, yet.

Then, suddenly, you’re there, walking in and showing him exactly where the tea is, right in time for the kettle’s finishing beep. You’ve always been like that, exactly what he needs at exactly the right time, and that hasn’t changed. It’s damning and loving all at once.

Steve grabs at one of the tins, but you set a light hand on his, leaving it there are you say something about temperatures and tea leaves. He’s barely listening, focused on the way your touch has jump-started his heart, his lungs, and… everything else.

“Steve!” you say, snatching your hand back and giving him an affectionate, frustrated look. It’s more the latter than the former, but at this point he’s parched soil grateful for a slight drizzle. “Did you hear any of that? I asked what temperature you set the kettle.”

“Uh, whatever the default is?”

Brand new to this kitchen though you are, you pick it up and start it again, noting that the water bubbles up right away. “208 is my guess. That’s too hot for this. It’s green.”

Steve very much wants to point out that all tea is green, but he knows better. Instead, he says, “We can pour it out and start over?”

You look at him for a long moment, your body a foot and several hard conversations away, and finally nod. Neither of you say anything as the new water heats up, but Steve feels the metaphorical distance between the two of you narrow as you breathe each other’s air for the first time in forever.

When the kettle finally sounds, it’s somehow familiar. In his head Steve feels another timer go off, and he heeds it.

“I’m--” he starts to say, but you interrupt.

“I know.”

To hide his apprehension, Steve grabs the sugar, a spoon, and an amused look. “You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“I know all of them. You’re sorry. You’re not coming home. You’re doing this for my own good. You’re lonely.”

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

The two of you settle next to each other on the couch with a not inconsiderable amount of painful distance between you. That doesn’t translate to the conversation, though. It’s full of honesty (“I didn’t want to leave. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I’m not done with the things that need to be done, and it’s not safe for you here.”) from both sides  (“You’re physically gone and I hate that, but emotionally, I know you don’t want to let me go. I’m always with you, and I’ll always find you. There’s no one that can keep me safer than you can.”).

Once the tea’s long gone and the fire has died down to embers, neither of you have said the most important words, the healing words. 

Finally you whisper them, tears welling up in your eyes. “Steve, I love you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

He opens his mouth, certain of his mission, as sacrificial as it is--but you slide up beside him, warm and loving and his.

“It can be like this,” you rasp, sliding your hand along his chest and up into his hair to pull his lips down to yours.

Steve groans in gratitude, angling his head in welcome and grasping at your hips to drag you onto his lap where you belong. He sends up a prayerful apology to any member of his family that still checks the earthly realm to watch him live a sinless life. Today is not that day. 

You’re wearing soft dress pants, just loose enough for him to slide his hand past your waistband, thumbing caresses along the heat of your inner thigh until your hitching ‘yes’ of a sigh gives him more explicit permission. He’d missed your body, missed this, the warm slick of your welcoming folds, the way you gasp and tense when he strokes you. This angle shouldn’t work, but he’s strong, and he knows how much you love that, so he nuzzles the join between your neck and shoulder, breathing you in.

You release your deathgrip on his shirt to snake your hand up into his hair, dragging your fingernails deliciously against his scalp. Your movements are imprecise and shaky, a testament to his own erotic movements, and Steve groans aloud at the realization. The timbre of your voice as you whisper his name hints at how close to orgasm you are, and he takes the opportunity to escalate his onslaught.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin, thrusting his fingers inside at unpredictable intervals to prolong your pleasure. You have always both loved and hated that, wanting instead to lose yourself in the rhythm of predictable movements--but your most vocal climaxes come just like this.

Steve backs off again, and you roll your hips, tempting him to return. “I’ll never let go,” you growl, pushing off just far enough to start unbuckling his pants. “You should know that.”

It’s an inflection point, and though Steve’s a soldier, he doesn’t fight you. You’d been so close your whole body had started to tremble, but instead of taking what you could from him and then shifting the mood, you’d taken the route of self-sacrifice. Those thoughts flee the battlefield when you urge him to lift up enough to tug his pants out of the way. Impatience sings through his veins. He wants to take charge and--

“Oh,” he says. The whole world shifts from black and white to color as you slide down between his legs, taking him in your mouth. He’s almost too sensitive for this, grabbing a fistful of the couch instead of your hair, knowing his own strength. You anchor yourself with a hand grasping that same forearm, moaning as you suck as if feeling the flex of his muscles is itself erotic.

Steve knows the whining noise he can hear is coming from his own throat, but doesn’t care about anything but the surging joy of this moment. You know exactly how to work him, adding everything he loves about you, about the ‘us’ he’d wanted to build with you. When he’s almost, almost there, when he knows your next move would be a deep-throated encouragement to spill in your mouth, you pull back.

The lesson is sharp and warranted, but Steve’s trust doesn’t waver. He looks down at you--‘submissive’ at his feet but fully in charge of the moment--and nods. I get it. Your light smile and little squeeze of his arm before you get up feels more like home than anything in months.

“I love you,” he says, and means it more than he ever, ever has.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to say that in the middle of sex?” you tease, moving fluidly to shed the rest of your clothing. The only thing you keep on is your electric blue bra, and Steve lets out a tiny little noise of want when he sees it. It’s his favorite. Eight months ago you’d tried to get rid of it and he’d snatched it up out of the ‘to toss’ pile and buried it in his drawer, the drawer you’d given him in your bedroom for when he slept over.

He hadn’t wanted to leave it behind, to leave you behind, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. Now, looking at your sultry, challenging expression, he truly understands the mistake he made.

Steve opens his mouth to tell you how beautiful you look in the firelight, how sorry he is that he ever thought he could walk away to make your life safer, how--

“Prove it, soldier,” you tell him. The words are confident, but there’s a waver in your tone that he put there.

He reaches for you, pulling you onto him, into him, straight through his skin, your sighs writing your name on his heart. It's exactly where you, where he belongs. The result is a rolling boil, a volley of exploding shells, a Brooklyn apartment with a pair of red heels at the door.

It’s been a battle, but he’s home.

Note: I misremembered boiling point, embarrassingly. Fixed.

[sunthyme]

Okay, now is technically the last one before my prefect design lol. OOPS I FORGOR fuck well here they finally are lol...

😭Other Side Characters😭

I drew so many cutie patooties in this batch omg they're adorable. But first we'll kick off with the Royal Blade characters!

🐱Chenya🐱

Because I'm not spelling out his whole damn name 💀

(he/she/they/it/ whatever pronouns you can think of lol) Genderqueer - Pansexual

Teehee I forgot to colour in the damn hair clips... I'm gonna kms /j

- Genderqueer cat. Any character based on the Cheshire Cat is genderqueer to me istg. Chenya is no exception.

- I kept most of her design the same but added in some heterochromia for funsies and used those colours for the hair clips and earrings. Xe is also Hispanic, idk it just felt right.

- Totally has ADHD. The impulsive thoughts are obvious with this one and I think that Neige serves as its impulse control. They made like, a pact of sorts (after their Headmage yelled at Chenya for doing something) that Chenya tells Neige whatever the impulsive thought is and Neige either tell Chenya 'No, you can't do that' or 'We can do this instead'.

- Broke asf. I dunno but I feel like Chenya has like the worst habit of impulse buying you've ever seen so they never carry money on they to try and avoid it at Trey and Riddle's recommendation. It's mostly worked as Neige buys anything Chenya needs when they go out anyways.

Speaking so much of Neige,

🐦Neige LeBlanche🐦

(he/him) Transmasc - Biromantic Asexual

God I love how Neige came out, look at him!!! He's such a cutie patootie omgomg I love him sm

- Anyways, I was fighting my demons to not make him black and I lost. I dunno, we don't have enough sweet, cute black boys in media and that is a crime.

- I gave him some hairclips with cute lil charms on them and some of those silly little acne patches. Idk if he actually has acne, he totally could, but I think he'd wear them either way to like normalise not be ashamed of it, y'know?

- I gave him some cute little apple earrings which were a gift that Rook gave him after a concert with one of his letters lol. He wears most of the jewelry gifted to him at one point or another but he really likes the apple earrings.

- Has a crush on Vil. Idk how popular of a headcanon that is but as soon as they interacted, I felt like it made sense. I love the one-sided rivalry lmao with Vil hating his ass and he's just like, 'Omg, she's so pretty and cool and smart. Wow, I'm so glad we get to work together so much!' It's really funny ngl.k

- Loves to crochet, knit, and sew. All are kinda skills he picked up while caring for the dwarves but they're his favourite to do. He's made Chenya a few sets of mittens (because for some super mysterious reason, they always go missing) and a quilt at some point.

- Likes anything with apples in it, pies, drinks, you name it. Fall is his favourite season because of apple cider alone (otherwise it'd be spring).

Onto the Kingscholars!

🦁Cheka Kingscholar🦁

(he/him)

He's so cute!!! I love him omg I'd actually love to babysit him look at those eyes

- I kept his design also pretty on model, darken his skin a smidge and textured his hair to match Leona's. Smacked some dimples and birthmarks on as if he wasn't cute enough already.

- The gold eyeliner is like a royal thing, maybe be specific to the crown line or maybe Leona's just too fcking lazy, probably the later.

- He's actually really good at chess. He's played many games with Leona, even though he didn't get it at first, but now he can beat most people who play him (still not Leona lest he really screws up something). Most of his birthdays, he gets a new pretty chess set and he has a little display of them in his room.

Now for his dad! The only character here without a canon design (as far as I know... which I'm upset about).

👑Farena Kingscholar👑

(he/him) - Heterosexual

I woulda also made a design for his wife but I don' think she even has a name?? So maybe in the future.

- I based him more on Leona, trying to make sure that Cheka didn't just get his trait lmao. I think that he got his piercing actually after Leona got his because the palace staff were criticising him for it so Farena went and got one.

- I dunno, he's giving bi wife energy. It helps that the women of Sunset Savannah are buff and cool and I'm so mad we never saw them 😭😭😭 I wanna see Leona's sister-in-law so bad ;^;.

- He's not as much into the intellectual side of things like Leona is, would rather defeat people with strength which is why the two really don't get along super well. Though I think it's only perceived on Leona's side, I don't think Farena realises how much hurt Leona's had throughout his life.

- Angst aside, he doesn't get much in the way of free time what with all his royal duties and such. His favourite activities are spoiling his family and getting used as a weight for his wife's daily exercise!

We got even more other family characters incoming...

🐍Najima Viper🐍

(she/her) - Bicurious

Fair warning, I haven't encountered any of the last three characters lol.

- I didn't change much here either, just added some red streaks to her hair and matched her palette to Jamil's.

- I don't know if her age is ever implied but I think she'd be younger than him by like a year. She went to a different school with Kalim's cousin (who they're like besties).

- I feel like Najima didn't get the same set of exceptions set on her growing up and so her relationship with the Al-Asims, while still not necessarily healthy, was nowhere near as damaging. I think that while Jamil definitely envies that, he'd rather die than make her go through the same thing as him.

Up next,

🧢Mama Spade🧢

(she/her) - Bisexual

Never met her either 😭😭😭

- I based her off my Deuce design and really just added some more piercings. I actually toned down the blonde streaks but I think they'd both have just a few.

- I believe she has a small business??? Or something? I didn't read the wiki but her hat had a delivery service me thinks but I stan her having a small business.

- She loves her son very much and was super excited when she saw his new piercings. Also, super accepting when he came out, obvi and thinks that while Ace is a bit of a rascal, they do click together.

I don't have a ton for her but I want that event to come back pleaseeee 🙏🙏🙏

🐉Meleanor Draconia🐉

(she/they) Agender - Aromantic Pansexual

- I had so much fun with her horns. I made them more branchy and I think a full grown dragon (well, like an old one) would basically have a web of antlers. I added some purple to the tips for the 🌸aesthetic🌸.

- Also added some wave to her hair. Malleus looked in her spitting image so I figured I'd give Levan's genes a chance lmao. They're also super tall, probably even taller than Mal herself and especially with the horns.

- I think she'd have left some things that Malleus ended up growing up with not realising they were from her, like a hair clasp, some assorted jewelry, a couple toys and items that Lilia gave him when he was old enough. Pieces of her for him to grow up with, y'know?

Anyways, I'm so sorry for this posting without anything lmao I was real tired last night! Prefect is next on the chopping block!

[starswallowingsea]

I have been thinking about what types of notions and things the craft dorm (what I've been calling the Shu/Izumi/Kuro/Mao dorm) would have in their respective kits and ended up making some collages with my thoughts. In order it's Shu, Izumi, Kuro, and Mao. Longer explanation below the cut.

Shu:

Since he canonically makes lace I put all sorts of different lace making tools on his. In the english server it got translated as crochet and crochet lace can be absolutely gorgeous and it's pretty portable so it makes sense, hence the steel hooks. The other lace making tools are bobbins and a bobbin pillow and a tatting shuttle. While tatting is the "lesser" form of lace making compared to crochet and bobbins, it's by far the most portable as the thread is wound around the shuttle and to me Shu would probably do tatting on the plane to/from Japan and France. Also included for him are pretty generic sewing notions, your pins and pincushion, scissors, a needle and thread, t-pins, and beeswax. T-pins can be used to block the lace as well, and the beeswax is for hand sewing. Fun fact but if you run your thread over beeswax a few times before starting to sew it'll help strengthen your thread and prevent it from splitting! Shu also heavily prefers working with natural fibers over synthetic.

Izumi:

Guy absolutely uses DPNs (double pointed needles) for his knitting, at least when it comes to socks and hats. I believe in some of the examples of his knitting we've seen he has done cabling so a cable stitch holder is there as well, though I can imagine he does it without it too if it gets lost. He also has a ball winder and I wish I had thought to put a swift on here too but like Shu, he prefers to get natural fibers over synthetic and hand dyed wool is great but it comes in hanks which areeeeeee hard to work with so a swift and ball winder would be necessary for him. Also included are more t-pins, a blocking board, stitch markers, and yarn needles.

Kuro:

To me, Kuro is the type of guy to make scrap quilts with left over fabric from the outfits he makes for his friends (and also out of like old shirts his sister has grown out of), so he has a huge scrap fabric pile he's constantly thinking about what type of blocks to make them into. I feel like he'd also make his own appliques for these quilts and would use basting spray to hold those down, obviously. Also the type of guy who just carries spare buttons on him in case of an emergency. Also has a seam ripper, scissors (thread, fabric), a tailor's measuring tape, and a cutting board.

Mao:

I know he doesn't really craft but to me? He's a crocheter. He tried knitting once and failed very badly but crochet (in my opinion at least) is a lot easier to grasp for beginners and I think he made the dorm a few dish cloths at first but mostly makes amigurumis now of his favorite manga characters, as well as little toys for his friends, hence the safety eyes. Probably works more with synthetic fibers due to ease of accessibility and variety of colors, though he tries not to buy too much of the same color unless he knows what it'll be used for. Also has stuffing, yarn needles, stitch markers, and a little crochet hook carrying case.

General Notes:

There were some things I didn't think to add until after I had already finished all of these collages, and some things that were things I thought everyone would have. To start, Shu would obviously also have a blocking board for his lace blocking, and as mentioned earlier Izumi would have a swift. Shu probably also has a swift and ball winder or just borrows Izumi's when he buys anything heavier than thread for crochet (which isn't often so I'm leaning more towards borrowing). Kuro would also have a bar of beeswax for the same reason as Shu, as well as maybe a thimble? Though I suppose it depends on how much he cares about his fingers being callused from the needle. Shu has a thimble. I also think all four of them would have some sort of project bag, whether it's just an old backpack or something a bit more expensive, they all have something that allows them to take their crafts on the go.

Anyway that's all I had but please tell me your thoughts if you want :3

[flawlessgems]

1 4 5 6 7 14 16 17 21 for the ask game that tells a lot about you (pls don't feel pressure to do them all, i probably wrote down to many again lol)

you literally made my day night by sending in these asks 🤗😘

okieee, let's get to it!

how do you take your tea/coffee?

lol I don't. I've had coffee once and nearly threw up and tea just feels so . . . thin. Not just with actual texture (never thought I'd be describing the texture of a liquid before . . .) but with flavour as well. I really just drink water. I don't have much opportunity to drink anything else, unless it's Ginger Ale when my stomach is not the best

4. what was your favorite tv show as a kid?

good grief- I don't know. The two filmed tv shows I watched the most were Wanted Dead or Alive with Steve Mcqueen, and a BBC Robin Hood with Richard Green. I also watched a lot of the animated show Tom and Jerry, which is a family favourite

5. summer or winter?

okay, if we be going like aesthetics and songs and just vibes? then summer all day. But if we be doing this for the temperature? Then winter. I can't pick winter for aesthetic reasons because winter for me is just sometimes cold, but mostly cool, which means no snow. Come January and February, it's just rain.

6. realist, optimist, or pessimist?

definitely a pessimist. I love watching Fail Army and get my motivation to get through the day from reading demotivational quotes. I'll share one with you: be a bridge, so I can walk over you to better places

7. rain or sunshine?

I don't mind rain so much if it's actually raining, and not just cloudy with a drizzle. I prefer sunshine though. One of my favourite destressing activities is swinging on a playset (call me childish; I don't care. I also still sleep with stuffed animals) so I prefer sunshine in order to do that. But I've done it in the middle of a rainstorm too, so I just have to prepare for possibly ruining my clothes and freezing for hours afterward

14. what is your defining personality trait?

oh geez- how do I answer this without sounding like a complete narcissist? I wish it was 'character trait' instead. But personality trait? People have told me I'm funny, I'm a pessimist, and very creative (I've dabbled in writing stories of various genres, poems of all kinds, and even songs; I can paint with watercolour, draw with both coloured and graphite pencil; I've built some pretty cool fantasy builds with LEGO; I tried my hand at sewing, but sucked at it; slightly better at cross-stitch but I still hate it; I can do the basic knit stich; I am pretty good at crocheting--even did a section of an advanced quilt! and I think I should stop bragging now. If I was trying to avoid sounding like a narcissist I definitely failed)

off that rabbit trail- I think my biggest personality trait is my sensitivity. I'm very sensitive to verbal negativity (which is why I became a sarcastic bitch to try and hide the fact that I really just want to go to that corner over there and cry) as well as pain and other discomforts (both my own and others. It's rather annoying. Like my mom got a paper cut and just told me about it and I almost cried). I'm also sensory-oriented, so I can get sensory-overload very easily.

16. are you an only child? oldest/middle/youngest?

teehee nope! I am one of the oldest kids in a family of over a dozen

17. what would your superpower be? how would you use it?

uhh I'm an introvert, so teleportation would be nice. I have experienced a horrific amount of super-embarrassing moments (that probably nobody else thinks about I'm just overthinking it as usual) so it would be nice to just be able to yeet myself out of there so I don't have to endure the awkward silence.

but flight would be nice too . . . I could use that to look into bird's nests

and elemental control? like damn- FIRE?!

but seriously, my overthinking mind just gave electrokinesis like the ultimate god mod. Think about it, if you could sense and manipulate electricity, you could hack into people's phones and text them, you could have every stoplight be green, and SERIOUSLY--your brain has electricity in it- I COULD SENSE PEOPLE AND MAYBE EVEN MANIPULATE THEM. But, like in a freeze-your-body or slap-yourself-in-the-face kind of way. As for accessing memory banks, I don't think I could do that. BUT THEN- LET'S GET EVEN DEEPER WITH THIS- everything is made up of protons, electrons, and neutrons, so if I could manipulate that, could I like . . . transform?!

also, to any writers out there, please don't take that electrokinesis idea. I came up with that for a story 😭

21. the best ice cream flavor

I can't remember what it was called, but it was this ice cream that was basically a combination of cookies-n-cream, cookie chunk, and oreo ice cream, and it was a BOMB. If it has chocolate in it (unless it has peanut butter 🤮) chances are high I'm going to like it

[this-is-not-a-slow-burn]

Traditional acrylic painting question

I tried to ask this over at r/ArtistsLounge but I am a new user to the sub and they won't let you post until you've reached some magical line, so here, have my question Art Tumblr.

Gentle note that I'm not new to art by any means, so let me start with that since I'm used to getting answers that seem to assume I'm a beginner. I'm not.

Ok with that out of the way.

I've never worked with acrylics in a large format before, and my past experience with them has been non representational abstracts (intuitive scribbles if you will) and like monotypes, so I have some questions about coverage, dry time, and how to navigate white paint opacity.

The canvas is 30"x 40" (stretched) and the previous owner of the canvas applied silver spraypaint to it for unknown reasons, so I will be covering that with gesso first. (fingers crossed that the gesso will adhere and not crack or peel off. will do a test on one of the edges to see if rubbing alcohol will remove the spray paint but I don't have high hopes)

The painting itself will only be three colors total. Red, black, and white, but mostly Pyrrole red. I have two 2 oz (59 mL) tubes of it in Liquitex heavy body that were a gift, and it's an expensive color so I need to make this amount work because I cannot buy more. (I would steal it but the only place in town is hardcore watchful) This means there's not enough to do a bunch of testing with.

The plan right now is to mix in a bit of Golden acrylic medium to extend the coverage and make the application a bit smoother, just the same as when I do smaller size work. (I also have Golden Open retarder to slow drying time)

Since the canvas is so large, would it be best to mix up a bunch of paint and use a large brush or roller like those used for home interior painting and do the whole surface in one go, or do it in smaller sections? I ask because I have a bum shoulder and doing it in stages would be best for my arm, but there's a concern that it would leave distinct demarcations where the application stopped and started. There is someone who would help me if it should be done all in one go. I could probably even do it with my other arm if it came down to it. I also have Golden Open paint retarder to slow the drying time if necessary. (wow I just wrote crying time. gods help me it won't be that hard will it?) Mostly to avoid the paint drying on the palette too quickly because I can be sllllooooowww with painting. I have covered containers for color mixtures, but they're not great.

Then comes the question of bringing white into the picture (pun intended by accident). The white bits will be about thumbnail sized details, with some a little bigger and some smaller. Would masking them off before applying the red work (so they will be gesso "blank" and then paint white over them), or doing more of a pochoir (stencil) over the red? Or do I just give in and paint them by hand and hope that they don't come out wobbly edged (i'm terrible with crisp lines ;-;)

Ok I htink that's enough questions for now. I have several other (muuuuch smaller) formats I will be making the same image in (gouache, linocut block print, screen print (paper and fabric), monotype, paper collage, possibly a quilt-ish pillow, a knit wall hanging, and an embroidery piece on a jacket and a bag) but that's for another time.

If you or anyone you know can answer even a fraction of these questions, or offer tips, I will love you forever.

Reblogs or tagging artists is encouraged! <3

[littlewalken]

Feb 27

At least my medical records have anemia on them so if I sleep away most of a day I have a legit reason.

Almost forgot I did do some physical stuff I probably shouldn't have done but now all the Halloween pajamas are in one tub and can stay there until the end of summer. Most are getting worn out and I should consider making a quilt out of them but I'm going to wear them as long as possible.

Also managed to put some odds and ends away, the new metal stamps got as far as the container with all the metal stamps but the resin bits didn't get in to that exact tub. There are several smaller tubs with resin supplies that can go in to one bigger tub but it will make me want to make something to use up one of the bottles and this weather isn't right for it.

Still, if you have any form of ADHSquirrel clear 'project tubs' that hold the supplies you need for hobbies are your friend. You can see what hobby is in there, or stick a label on, and everything you need is right there.

I just put the hand full of crochet thread books in with the crochet thread for now. I can't keep the hooks in there because I have several things that use them but I also made a cute project bag with knit and crochet terms on it to hold the hooks and needles.

The next movie I watch might be Cherry Bomb with Robert Sheehan and Rupert Grint. They were in my dream last night but it was also tangled with Robert's audio book and talking about Borzoi snoots. When that scenario changed to something I wasn't liking I literally said I'm too old for this shit and walked out of that part or my dream. Woke up not long after.

First step with non region DVDs is to see if the VLC media player recognizes them, it does with my Region 0 Japanese Tea Ceremony and a couple of the Pet Shop Boys ones.

Second step is to see if you can put a remote control code in to one of your older players and unlock it. All was good until the door broke on mine.

Third step is to get a region free DVD player from Lord Bezos because they aren't any more than regular ones and don't get caught up in the mark up game. Search for the least fancy one, if you deal with a seller tell them it's for grandma to watch her region 4 stories on DVD and she can use a regular player but not passwords etc.

Fourth step is to hope the one you bought so many years ago you've forgotten still works and doesn't need wifi update shit.

Fifth step pray that someone uploads it to the internet somewhere but that it's in your language or has subtitles. Some of you know what I mean, fucking German dub.

[angelcakesupreme]

so bored so i’m going to do this

1. odd question regarding the true part but, yes my name is zaria.

2. december 1st

3. 5’4”

4. taken by a pumpkin 🙂

5. i really like to apply three cute words together to get a good url.

6. i personally can adore both but if i had to chose, dogs. bigger dogs though because i don’t feel fond of smaller dog breeds lol. older cats are really cool.

7. as far as live action, i really like indie movies or films that generally focus on the slice of life genre. also films exploring a character navigating growth or love. i’m open to a lot of animation too but i adore surrealism and similar genres as my live action preferences for that too.

8. i really do wish i read more. its pretty difficult with adhd/autism but i do find myself fascinated with early 1900s children’s book illustrations.

9. both of my ears are pierced and i don’t want anymore.

10. i’ve always wanted to go to a safe meadow with flowers and sit under a large tree while letting a cute radio play 60s indie garage rock. my boyfriend and i will have a large quilted blanket out with a beautiful and classy packed picnic lunch with glassware and cute napkins. we have sandwiches, soup, iced tea, chocolates and a charcuterie board. different types of cheeses with honey and jams and meat for him. we laugh at weird jokes we make, play card games, maybe do arts and crafts together and watch the sunset. maybe watch the stars too. bonus to be near a river running quietly the whole time.

11. black iced coffee!

12. hard question to answer. i generally really dislike the idea that my passions have to intertwine with unhealthy capitalistic methods just to make ends meet. …i know there’s more optimistic ways to view that but i’m completely indifferent about pursuing a conventional idea of a career. i don’t have time or connections to do it but if possible something involving freelance art commissions or comics would be cool.

13. i don’t have this.

14. tofu pho easily! i can never get tired of it.

15. year of the tiger. tigers are cute but i wish it was rabbit!

16. i like knitting, baking and journaling.

17. i been to some pretty ordinary places really. i’ve been to quite a bit of the southern east coast of america and then to michigan and los angeles. thats about it.

18. i think i’d love to go to finland or japan.

19. japanese, french, finnish, russian and spanish.

20. just english, i can understand a considerable but small amount of spanish or japanese.

21. it’s hard to say… i really like all for different reasons but maybe spring at the moment.

22. i love stuffed animals. i own many like my melody, bunnies, an octopus cat, a teddy i had since 2005, and rilakkuma just to name a few.

23. i never had the former so tofu spaghetti for me.

24. being able to very easily recognize what year a piece of media came from.

25. i’ll go with a cute golden dagger with flowers and a bunny on it.

26. a rustic prep type of aesthetic i suppose. i definitely have it!

27. any kind of bunnies, giant african snail, puffins, panda bears, ducks, flamingos, frogs, and dogs.

28. right now i would probably say soap and sweat.

29. funny question, i don’t think i do. i very much value peace.

30. 4!

31. no!!!

32. i love both… so much… black coffee or cappuccino and green tea or chamomile… so lovely…

33. floral, strawberry, vanilla, warm apple, or coco butter.

34. don’t remind me… probably south park during 2010 to 2015.

35. 3rd, 7th, 10th, 16th, and my 23rd and 24th i suppose.

36. frankie foster!

37. ami from hi hi puffy amiyumi, frida suraez from el tigre, raggedy ann from raggedy ann and andy a musical adventure, and maybe lum from urusei yatsura and shantae.

38. i can’t answer this… ohhh ok i’ll try.

1. aguas de marco by elis regina

2. boranda by sergio mendes

3. l’elephant by tom tom club

4. sudden death by quelle chris

5. good days by sza

39. coffee, matcha and birthday batter!

40. my current wishlist is a customized cute stationery set, handheld vacuum, king sized bed set, more skirts, leggings, sweaters and crop tops, lotions, oils, dress shoes and sneakers, more cute socks and panties and some rugs and movie posters.

[sassyhobbits]

for one night standards would you write a scene where aelin cant be found in the castle maybe bc shes doing sth ridiculous with her daughter like a mother daughter photoshoot to surprise rowan with later but when rowan can't find her he gets all panicked and out of his mind bc he still has unresolved trauma from when she was kidnapped and its all angsty until he has both back in his arms but also gives rowan a chance to talk and work through his experience with aelin gone? (because lets face it he probably ignores his feelings about that as much as possible in order to not burden aelin further and because it was just too painful)

loved this idea!!! i also added the prompt “Because I know when I open my eyes this will all turn out to be a dream and I’ll lose you again“ Thank you to everyone who supported ONS!! i had such a fun time writing it and im always happy to come back to it. enjoy!!

~~~

Rowan Whitethorn was generally a patient man.

He knew how to wait his turn, to take his time. He was always one to raise a brow at those who seemed to be in a harried rush to everything. It seemed stressful, to say the least. He was perfectly content to sit back when needed.

Except for now.

He had made a trip back home to Doranelle to surprise Isolde for her graduation from her masters program. Aelin had wanted to come as well, but with the baby and the responsibilities she had back in Orynth, it just hadn’t worked out. Still, she sent her well-wishes to Isolde through a video chat, letting little Eliora babble into the camera and say hello as well.

Their daughter was just over six months now, already growing far too fast for Rowan’s liking. He treasured every moment he got to spend with his two favorite girls.

And although he was always happy to see his family back in Doranelle, it had been the longest he had been away since Eliora had been born. It made him highly impatient to return home.

His jet touched down in Terrasen in the early afternoon. It was summer, though the day was mild. The sky was a vivid blue, fat white clouds floating lethargically on the breeze. Absolutely beautiful.

Due to the time difference, he hadn’t been able to call Aelin before he had got on the plane. He tried to reach her as he slid into the dark sedan that would drive him from the airport to the palace, but all he got was her voicemail.

Maybe she was in the shower, or changing Eliora’s diaper. Maybe their daughter had a finicky night of sleeping and now the pair were trying to catch up on their slumber. It was fine. Or so Rowan told himself. He still hadn’t been able to stop the small clench of nerves at the pit of his stomach.

He scolded those foolish feelings. Of course his wife and daughter were safe. They were just waiting for him to return.

The drive was quick and easy and he was back at the palace before he knew it. His feet carried him towards the room he shared with Aelin, a small smile curling on his lips as he thought about having his wife and daughter in his arms once more. He missed the feeling of Aelin curled against him as they slept.

“Aelin?” he called, pushing into their room and nudging the door shut behind him. “I’m home.”

He was greeted by nothing but silence. No sound of running water in the bathroom to suggest a shower, so soft snores or shifting sheets meaning a nap. He strode into the bedroom, finding that the bed was already neatly made, not a thread out of place.

He dropped his bags by the dresser, noting that Aelin’s phone had been left there, face up. He picked it up, seeing that she still had the notification of a missed call from him and a few miscellaneous emails that hadn’t been checked.

“Aelin?” he said again, moving towards the nursery. He had gotten used to the sight of Aelin sitting in the rocking chair with Eliora, either when the babe was hungry or she just wanted to hold her daughter. Rowan had countless pictures on his phone of the two of them in that position. The sunlight streamed from the window and hit them just right in the mornings, making them look like a painting.

But the nursery was empty and the window was shut.

Those nerves reared their ugly heads once more. He had no reason to assume the worst, the palace was one of the safest places in the kingdom.

But… Aelin had once been snatched away from him on palace grounds. During their own wedding.

Rowan shook himself. No. That was the past. This was now.

Since his wife didn’t have her phone, he knew it would be fruitless to try and contact her that way. But, Rowan knew Aelin better than he knew himself.

He began a sweep of the palace, checking out her favorite haunts. The library was a bust, so was the gym. He had checked the kitchens to see if she had swooped in for a snack or something sweet, but she wasn’t there either. Rowan luckily ran into Aedion, asking the prince if he knew where Aelin was. But her cousin hadn’t seen her at all that morning.

With each failed attempt at finding them, Rowan’s fears steadily crept up. It wouldn’t be much longer before they had wrapped themselves around his throat and pulled him deep into their depths.

He took a long breath to center himself before striding out into the gardens. His heart started beating faster, not seeing any sign of her at first. Rowan’s fingers curled into tight fists as he stepped over fresh, green grass. Gods, where were they? If something had happened to them…

But before Rowan’s fears could conquer him, he heard a soft voice on the summer breeze. A familiar voice at that. Relief washed through him, heavenly and soothing, as he followed that melodic sound.

It was Aelin. It didn’t take him long to realize that she was reading one of Eliora’s favorite books to her. It was a silly tale, and it was made even more vivid when Aelin told it. She was an excellent story-teller. They didn’t know how much Eliora really understood, whether she just liked the brightly colored pictures or the faces her mother would make when she told it. Regardless, it always made the little princess smile.

Rowan rounded a hedge, a warmth spreading through his chest at the sight before him.

Aelin had spread out a large quilt under the shade of a willow. Some of Eliora’s toys were scattered about, but currently, the toddler sat in her mother’s lap, wide-eyes glued on the book before her.

Rowan couldn’t help but think Aelin looked stunning today. Her golden hair was left loose, swaying on the breeze, the summer sun bringing a healthy flush to her cheeks. She wore a silky, pale blue wrap-dress, bare feet tucked beneath her as she read. Eliora looked mighty charming too in a bright pink dress with a matching bow.

Rowan strolled towards them, Aelin’s eyes jumping towards him as she noticed his presence. A huge smile broke out on her stunning face.

“You’re home!” she greeted, putting the book she had been reading aloud down. Eliora, no longer entertained by her mother’s storytelling, crawled over the quilt to grab one of her brightly colored toys. “I thought you were going to call me when you landed?”

“I did, Fireheart,” Rowan said. He lowered herself behind Aelin on the blanket, his wife situated between his legs, before wrapping his arms tightly around her and tugging her back into his chest securely. “You left your phone in our room.”

Rowan placed a lingering kiss on Aelin's shoulder, breathing in her scent deeply. She was safe, in his arms, Eliora happy as can be, sticking her toys in her mouth. Everything was fine.

Aelin turned in his arms slightly, brows knitted slightly. Rowan knew she could see right through him.

“What is it, Ro?”

“It’s nothing, love.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say, Don’t you lie to me, Buzzard.

Rowan heaved a sigh, reaching out and brushing some of Aelin’s silky hair behind her ear. “It’s just… you didn’t answer me when I called, and I couldn’t find you and Eliora when I got back. I just couldn’t help but think…” His hand drifted until it rested on Aelin’s abdomen, right over the scar she bore from fighting her way to freedom. He saw understanding on his wife’s face.

“We’re here, Rowan. We’re safe.” She placed a gentle hand on Rowan’s cheek, bringing his gaze towards her.

“I know,” Rowan whispered, jaw clenched. “But sometimes, I just worry that when I open my eyes, this will all turn out to be a dream. And I’ll lose you all over again.”

Aelin took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “This is real, Rowan. We both fought for this life, for each other. And nothing, nothing, is going to take it away. Ever.”

Rowan saw the determination blazing in Aelin’s eyes. She was right, of course. This was their life now, they had built their happiness bit by bit, even when so much seemed to want to go wrong. But Aelin and Eliora… they were everything to him. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to banish his fears entirely, but he would treasure every moment he spent with them.

Rowan leaned in, kissing Aelin softly before murmuring against her lips, “I missed you.”

She smiled, kissing him again. “I missed you too, Ro.”

They indulged in a few more slow, sweet kisses before loud babbling sounded, tiny hands twisting into Rowan’s trouser. He looked down, finding Eliora’s wide eyes looking up at him, flashing a gummy smile.

Aelin laughed. “It looks like someone else missed you, too.”

Rowan grinned, reaching out and picking up his daughter. He held her up high, making her release the sweetest little laughs, little legs kicking in delight. He kissed Eliora all over her little face before tucking her in one arm, throwing the other around Aelin. Immense love and devotion flowed through him, holding his two girls close.

No wonder why he had been so impatient to get home.

[pbandjesse]

I had a good day. I feel like for a day I was trying to be restful I got a lot done but I don't feel completely worn out. I just feel regular tired.

I slept alright last night. James had to wake up early to go to work and they took an Uber because for some reason on Sundays the light rail doesn't run until almost 10?? Wild.

I slept until 9 and stayed in bed for a long time just scrolling on my phone. But I would get up and start my day.

I got dressed and felt real cute. My hair was excellent today. And I was in a good mood.

I had crackers for breakfast and did some work on my knitting. I had 6 rows to do and I did the first half before I decided to take a break.

I would go for a drive. I went to chipotle and had chips. It was rainy. But not horrible. I felt good. I ate my chips in the car and then went in the grocery store in that shopping center.

I was there for baking things. I got chocolate cake mix and cream cheese frosting. But most important I got a chocolate orange and orange flavoring.

I got eggs and went to pay. When I found $12! Amazing. So I got myself an angle good cake. It did not have a price on it so the nice cashier went to get a barcode and so I had to wait a moment but I mostly felt annoying to the people around me.

But once I paid I got out of there. And headed home.

I had to spend a few minutes cleaning the car. Last night when I went back out to go get James I found that a ketchup packet got stuck in the center console and exploded ketchup on everything. And I was super distressed about it last night. And was still distressed today. But I think I got all of the grossness off. I might like ketchup but I absolutely hate how it smells. So hopefully the smell goes away.

I would get to work on my cupcakes. And it went well!! I put a little more orange flavor then it recommended but it tasted perfect. And while I think the cake could have turned out a little better, I am still really happy and I think they are really pretty.

While they were cooling I kept working on my knitting. But I only got one more row done. Then I ran the dishwasher while I decorated my cupcakes. I used the Ziploc bag pipping method and it worked really well. I'm very pleased. And I got enough stuff to make another two dozen. Maybe for puhtok's party next week.

Soon I went to get James. And we would head over to AVAM to go to the gift shop.

I found some great stuff for presents. And just generally enjoyed walking around. James got a lot of stuff but I tried not to peak. They did have a miniature accordion and I know it's for Dante but I may go back because I kind of want one too. Maybe. We will see.

I got a discount because I worked there! I probably should have spoken up because then maybe James would have gotten the discount too but I wasn't thinking. I will apologize after I post this.

James's energy was dipping and their back hurt. So we went home after that. We got a little turned around but we got back here. I almost got us in an accident but it was okay in the end. I pulled out of the spot almost into a car I didn't see but they saw me and swerved. I wish I could apologize to them.

When we got inside I went to change and James started sorting laundry. They teased me for how much black I've been wearing and how it's messing up our laundry loads.

I went to work on quilt stuff. And James would head me up dinner. Fake fish sticks and green beans. And we would chill.

When the clothes were done I went and got a shower and then helped hang things up. I also took some pictures for ideas for packing for our Alaska trip. Which is hard to conceptualize because its in may. But I had fun anyway.

I am going to go get ready for bed now. I hope you all have a great night. Tomorrow James had a dentist appointment and we have the BMI holiday party. I am just hoping for a really nice day.

Goodnight everyone!

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Scream Therapy

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x gender neutral!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: extremely vague allusions to mental illness, metaphors about wounds, angst with a relieving ending, let me know if i’ve missed something

AO3 mirror

So you know those tiktoks where people go out into the woods and scream? Just like expel all the shit that’s been holding them down into an open field and let the earth reclaim all their dark, restless energy? Reveal the burdens that have been creaking in their joints and trapped in the prison of their ribs for the trees to swallow?

I’ve been thinking about that and Shigaraki a lot. 

Like the rest of the league too, but mostly Shigs. 

Just imagine: 

It’s late, it always is when shit is going down at the hideout. The League of Villains is practically nocturnal at this point. Shigaraki’s mind is a loud place—lot’s of rabid, train tearing down the track lines of thought that clatter and roar and gush toxic coal smoke.

So as annoyed as he makes himself out to be, he doesn’t actually mind the din of the bar all that much. Twice and Toga chattering in the corner, random bits of too loud laughter and the clink of Kurogiri polishing glasses as he tells off Dabi for the umpteenth time about smoking inside—hell, even Compress rambling about the health benefits of high quality wine to nobody in particular is somewhat...comforting?

That’s not quite the right word, but their noise settles around him a bit like a thick quilt and dampens the rampage inside his head for a while.

He thinks about a lot of things.

Some good, most bad, all obsessive. He’ll get stuck in these loops sometimes, small questions evolve into bigger, more complicated webs, and suddenly it’s been four hours and he’s done nothing but stare at the same spot on the wall just left of his desktop monitor.

Sleep is a terrifying venture for much the same reason. Once he gets caught in that cycling it’s so hard to break out, and that’s when he’ll stumble down the stairs and sequester himself away at the end of the bar.

There he will sit and listen to the incessant white noise of his team—which is frustrating too but infinitely better than whatever anxiety coated sludge his brain will come up with if left to its own devices, so he bears it.

And then there’s you.

Who you are isn’t entirely important.

Maybe you’re just another member of the League, dedicated to helping your boss spread villainy across the city. Maybe you’re a morally ambiguous civilian who just stumbled in much like a stray cat into a depressed college student’s apartment and simply never left.

Whatever the circumstances, where you came from doesn’t matter.

To him, your contributions to the din are just another layer of insulation against the storm. He couldn’t really care less what you do, or where you go when you weren’t there. As long as your voice could offer a different type of grating against his ears than the silent throbbing of his head when he is alone, then your presence is justified.

Shigaraki only takes notice of you when you leave, when your voice is no longer adding to the uproar drowning out whatever new thought spiral he was trying to claw his way out of.

It’s very late then. That odd, in between time when it’s closer to the sunrise than to it’s setting but somehow also the darkest portion of the night. Of course, it’s never totally dark—not with all the light pollution laying an ever present, glowing haze across the horizon—but it’s as close as it gets out here to pitch black.

He catches the tail end of your coat, a glimpse of your shoe soles as you slip up the stairs and climb the wrought iron ladder that leads to the roof. Shigaraki often catches himself wondering how you figured out exactly how to avoid each board that creaked. He thinks sometimes it’s because you like going unnoticed, that too much attention makes you feel just as shaky as he gets when he’s been inside his head too long. Or possibly you just don’t want to wake anyone up in the rare moments that some League members are actually asleep.

Regardless, he watches you go and feels strangely...compelled to follow and because he rarely feels compelled to do anything unless it’s furthering the downfall of hero society, he does.

He takes an unsteady step, then another until the brisk, cusp-of-summer air is washing over him. It bites through his thin black top and the worn holes in his jeans, but the sting feel likes something.

And since he almost always feels nothing at all, it’s good.

You’re stood a few feet from the edge of the building, where the ledge has begun to crumble away from age and poor maintenance. The wind is strong enough that it makes your limp arms sway by your sides. Shigaraki is so thin now, he’s almost afraid for a moment it might blow him away. He’s found himself feeling so insubstantial as of late, it’s shocking when his feet don’t lift off from the roof entirely. He crosses the distance towards you slowly. 

If you hear him approaching, you don’t show it.

Normally he wouldn’t start a conversation of his own volition but he did follow you up here and the silence is getting a bit deafening, even with the breeze.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

It’s simple, but it’s all he can think to say. Funny, with how many words that run through his head, he can never find the right ones when he wants them.

You turn then, and your face is...well it’s a face. He tends not to look at people’s faces much—doesn’t want to see their expressions when they look at him, but from what he can tell you aren’t upset that he’s here at least.

“I love the city at night.”

That’s all you offer in response and he knows somehow that you’ll keep talking even if he doesn’t answer. That you know how much he hates the quiet but can’t ever fill it himself.

“When you’re up high enough, you can pretend the streetlights are stars,” you divulge, as if it’s some sort of great, long kept secret.

Maybe it is.

Maybe you have a lot of secrets. You seem to him like the type of person who would. Who keeps life changing truths tucked under your tongue to drop suddenly over convenience store dinners and cheap beer.

He thinks that maybe he’d like to know them.

“It’s always so alive during the day, the streets I mean,” you continue, eyes trained out on the buildings below, tracing constellations from block to block. “But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s rotting too like….”

You trail off and don’t finish the thought, but you don’t have to. He knows what you mean: like the city is a wound that’s festering. That all the people and the heroes that corral them like cattle are just an infection waiting to spread.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, because he hasn’t been able to come up with anything else.

Your gaze flits over his face this time, and Shigaraki almost misses the small smile that plays at your lips. He’s close enough now that you could touch him, and you almost do, shoulders just inches away from brushing. But you don’t close the gap.

You touch the others, a lot actually, though he gets the sense you’re the type to ask first. And with his mind running on overdrive every waking second, he gets overstimulated easily. He should probably be thankful you aren’t as familiar with him. That you bother to notice the distance he keeps even when he rarely pays you any mind.

Maybe you’re thankful for that too.

“You know, scream therapy is a very effective and cheap alternative to professional intervention,” you say matter of factly in response.

He waits for you to continue and you do.

“There’s no one out this late but heroes on patrols and they won’t come to help us, so this is a perfect opportunity to give it a try.”

He can feel his brow knitting together and you raise your hand for a second as if to smooth your thumb over the wrinkled skin. Shigaraki doesn’t move, but watches your fingers pause in mid motion and drop back down.

There’s a strange charge in the air between you—a spark he distantly wishes would ignite if only so he could stop churning in his gut.

“How do you do it?”

He’s never asked so many questions of anyone in his life. But he finds he truly wants to know.

And you’re the one that can show him.

You breathe deeply beside him, letting your eyes drift shut and taking a step towards the ledge. With hands balled into righteous little fists, you bend a bit at the waist and you...scream.

Shigaraki isn’t quite sure what he’d expected, but for some reason it wasn’t that.

He’s heard shouts before, cries for help or out of fear, but nothing like this. The sound seems to bubble up from some deep, dank pit inside you and bursts forth from your mouth like a geyser spewing boiling water from the earth. It’s long and low and loudloudloud. It isn’t a sound he could ever imagine you making, but it rumbles in his chest as if it’s his own.

Just watching has a weight lifting from his shoulders.

You keep going even when he knows you should have run out of air. But you aren’t really making the noise, you’re just letting it escape. He’s not sure how he knows that but he does.

Your voice cracks and snaps and rages forth and you scream in a way he feels in his very bones. The garbled, awful sound is so clearly understandable despite the wind that carries it away.

It says: I am free and young and can feel none of it.

And then it’s words. Words that tumble from you in a torrent.

About your family, about what’s been done to you, what you’ve done to yourself.

About the lies and the injustice of it all.

You’re heaving by the end, deflated as though all the screams had left behind an empty space—an abscess drained and ready to heal over or fill back up.

“It’s your turn.”

Shigaraki stares at you, silhouetted by the dull, silver glow of the city and panting. You both look at each other for a moment, reveling in the odd connection that sometimes forms between strangers who know far too much about each other.

He doesn’t think he could top that, but the energy you’ve created is invigorating and he’s determined to ride the wave while he has it.

Taking a step, he joins you by the ledge again, and you back up as if allowing him into the spotlight. The wind will swallow whatever he says, it will eat the words like a starving behemoth and he finds himself ready to feed the beast.

He has to dig deep, scratch at old sores to make them bleed again, tear at scabs so he can let the contaminating thoughts leak out. Once he feels like he’s breached far enough, Shigaraki takes a breath.

And he screams.

His body doubles over with the strength of it, foot slamming down onto the roofing and four fingers fisted in the hem of his shirt.

It hurts coming out, rips at his vocal chords and has his throat raw to bleeding after just the first few seconds but he pushes past it.

He wonders if this is what a runner's high feels like, when you’ve pushed beyond the side stitches and knee aches and your blood finally rushes with all those elusive feel good chemicals he never has enough of.

Whatever it is, the feeling is addicting.

Shigaraki is dimly aware of you in his peripheral, encouraging the tsunami thoughts in his head to be thrust out into the uncaring arms of the city skyline.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have to search for the words. They simply come. All his frustrations, some he wasn’t even conscious of, spill fresh and steaming like blood. Physically, his body remains but somewhere in the depths of his mind he is younger and hurt and alone and trying desperately to scream.

“I destroy everything I touch!” he roars at the apathetic, grey sidewalk below.

After the last word leaves him, he feels the same weightlessness he’d seen in the sag of your shoulders. The same snapping of the coil slack in his spine.

And suddenly, with this glorious, awful sense of revelation, Shigaraki realizes that everything in his head has gone quiet.

He’s over taken by a silence that requires no filling, a peace that he’d imagined only existed at the bottom of abandoned wells, far away from any chubby child’s hands that may toss foolish wishes down them.

He thinks about kissing you then.

And he knows now that this thought has always been there, but it was drowned like a subway rat in the aftermath of the hurricane brewing in his brainstem. He has always noticed you no matter how hard you try to blend into the background. Your voice has always been a bit better at shutting out the unending, worthless choir in his head.

He wouldn’t have followed anyone else up here—not Dabi, not Spinner, not Compress or even Kurogiri.

He can see that now. In this new enlightened state, everything is so much clearer. Though he is quickly thrust back into the present, into his body once again, as another kind of soft weight settles on his shoulders. Your coat is skin warmed and smells like you and everything he’s ever loved in his own screwy little way. He realizes then that you’ve been trying to talk to him this whole time.

“Shigs,” you call again and tuck the coat tighter around his shoulders, “you were shaking.”

Shigaraki nods, feeling relief from the cold he hadn’t quite been aware of till now. He’s not sure if you’ve ever addressed him so informally before, but he decides he likes the nickname.

It feels a bit like a gift.

“Better, yeah?”

He’s not really sure if it’s better, but it is different and it’s been impossibly long since anything has been different, so he thinks it must be good.

“Yes,” he says.

It’s a general yes, both to your question and to you, whatever that might mean. He doesn’t say anything more because he’s done enough talking and you nod like you understand.

Neither of you moves to leave the roof, but you do inch closer to him this time, closing the gap and tucking him into your side. Your arm is slung gently across his shoulders and he finds the weight of it relieving.

That seems like it shouldn’t make since but it does—a paradox of sorts, weight being a comfort.

Then the sun begins to rise and it’s as if he’s seeing you in a new light.

Your profile outlined by the stark daybreak rays, so horribly strong despite the scream he knows is forming again under the surface.

And Shigaraki wonders if you see him that way too.

[yomiurinikei]

hcs of nikei doing precalc…. jk jk umm not hc rq but whats ur take on leel hajime jw

•cries

•doesn't understand what an asymptote is

•match the graph to the equation: ((x-a)^2)/(x-b) ~ ((x-a)^2)/((x-b)^2) ~ (x-a)/(x-b)

•find the zeroes, write the equation in factored form, but make sure there are no irrational or imaginary numbers

~*~ anyways. leeljime. we discussed this some but have hcs too ☺️ (warning: kinda depressing at the middle there)

•doesn't,, remember his parents much?

•like. i would think they cared for him until he was 4-6 but after that they prolly just dipped,,

•so he can remember little flashes of things, and has picked up certain characteristics of theirs, but couldn't tell u much abt the people themselves

•my sock is inside out pls help

•anyways,,, i dont think he was a very disagreeable patient? he never tried to fight or do things he was told not to

•but he also,, was not shy about the fact he was tired of putting up with treatment

•like!! he wouldn't cry or fuss, but he also wasn't optimistic about things, and kinda. understood that it was lucky he was even still alive, and he didn't expect to get better

•now for a total change in tone: he definitely had favorite nurses/doctors, and as happy as he was to be discharged, was sad to say goodbye when the time came around

•one time he got into a petty spat with a new nurse who didn't realize he was hospitalized indefinitely

•and he definitely took it as a personal victory when said nurse left before he did

•there was also a doctor who would sneak him smaller treats, extra servings of things he didn't need, etc etc, when his diet wasn't being monitored for health reasons

•i'd like to imagine, based off the child's day picture, that he wasn't bed ridden? his legs were just rlly weak so he got pushed around in a wheelchair

•when he was like,,, bitsy babey still getting a diagnosis tho, he couldn't move as much as other kids his age, and was bed ridden at first

•anyways tho!! i don't. think they'd give him a wheelchair he could move himself (and iirc, most. pediatric hospitals wouldn't rlly have those for patients)

•this did not stop him from trying to have grand adventures while he'd be taken outside for some fresh air

•,,,the key word there is "trying" but. he still had fun even if he did not have much success

•this is more a bigjime thing, but i like to imagine he picked up some jsl/knows how to read japanese braille (just doesn't remember all the characters) due to being in the hospital

•like there was other kids!! and even if. he was always kinda the one who was there the most, it was nice to be able to chat a bit with whoever came in

•and a lot of times, they'd just be starting to learn for themselves, so! he could learn with them, or at later dates, could help teach some of the basics

•. remember how i said he wasn't fussy, at the start?

•yeah there. was an exception. we see he has like,, actual (assumedly prescription) reading glasses pre-utsuro

• "i do not care i do not want to see i am not looking" headass. just did not want to do anything related to getting his vision checked, ever

•it was probably the light sensitivity. having his eyes fucked with and poked and prodded at and focused on just so things wouldn't be fuzzy was not worth it

•oh idk if japan has any of these programs. but ik at my elementary school we'd work on making quilts for children's hospitals, so like,, during recess once a week id go and spend that time knitting so i could contribute a square to the blanket?

•i like to think he'd work on little things like that when he had the spoons to. he couldn't always, and it took him a while to get things done, but it made him happy to feel he was helping

[galaxynaga]

So I’m picking up a new craft hobby to cope with my fidgety fingers, as you do. I inherited literal bags of knitting needles old enough to have knit FDR’s grandfather a sweater, but great needles all the same. Alas though, I am stock full of yarn and attention span of a squirrel and the fidget of two needles going clicky clack is not enough to satisfy my goblin brain, and committing to another sewing project would probably galvanize the pile of half finished quilting projects enough sentience to revolutionize, so unseated I decide the only rational action is to try to teach myself a completely NEW fiber art and try my hand at crochet.

Now I have knit a lot of things, a lot of fairly big long, complicated things, but their crochet hook is a mystery that is making me question all I knew of yarn. The tension was the big problem, too tight, too loose, too all over bad. So I do the reasonable thing and try to look up specific guides in tension, cause my yarn method ain’t cutting it for some reason. The YouTube wasn’t quite working so I start looking through articles. And what do I find looming in front of me like a Spector of middle school past? This stock photo:

I completely lost it, then had the further misfortune of having to explain to my husband why I was absolutely losing it. I still have no clue on my crochet tension, but I definitely have +9001 psychic damage.

Believe it.

[secrets-of-the-library]

This is the fan-created personal home of Arthur Kirkland I made, realistically, like anywhere between a year to two years ago. This is well before the Cottage pack that just recently came out (And I am upset because that could’ve added so much more but I can’t be bothered to alter it now after all this time). Remember: This is fan/headcanon created. I build for fun and am not a professional. I do not build with the intention of having it livable/non-clashing. If something clashes it will be up to you to fix it because I build for the pure aesthetic and not functionality. I own a lot of packs so if you don’t own all the ones used in this there might be issues. After the cut here I will provide a visual walk-through via screen captures. You’re more than welcome to download it and look at it for yourself. My username on Sims4 is Shinoshallbugyou.

First up, the outside overview. Keep in mind that Sims 4 limits the lot to a harsh degree. I actually really miss Sims 3 in how you could alter and change the environment otherwise I’d have Arthur’s home buried in a garden/trees. I have placed his home in the University area because it felt the best suited. There wasn’t any particular designs I was going for... I just kind of made it and went with it. His home, unlike Spain’s that I am working on, is much smaller in comparison. I particularly wanted to bury this home in foliage and green with ivy climbing up the wall and etc. Something to where you could have enchanted little areas to sit in, fairies, and etc. Something to where he can be more introverted and away from others.

3rd Floor- Attic/storage.

2nd Floor - Full bath, office, and his bedroom.

1st Floor - Entry room, 1/2 Bathroom, Living room, dining room, kitchen. Outside there is a small backyard area as well as a greenhouse.

I specifically always want to try to do a ‘triangle’ entry or a sloped half triangle entry. It ALWAYS clashes and hates being put in there but the aesthetic of it appeals to me and I’m always trying things even if they’re difficult. I know some of these objects may seem more German than British but... I don’t care lmao. I don’t do this to do a 100% British Speedrun. Just fun.

The greenhouse in particular was something I wanted and is difficult to implement. Those are not full walls and as such do not drop down like normal walls for those of you who download this. Also, previously, I had custom content on the windows and doors of this greenhouse that were removed with several updates and I can’t be bothered to re-download it so I chose something from a pack. That would do. I love the idea of a greenhouse and wanted to try it and I particularly liked making this house in specific ‘cramped’.

I really liked adding this ‘side door’ that goes into the living room with its little step-up.

I really tried, to the edge of it, building the lush garden and foliage covers.

A small, quiet area for tea and fairies. There are lots of gnomes and stuff hidden throughout this house! Just a fun little surprise. My fiancee tried to play this build of mine and since I have seasons fall is triggered but it just adds to the look, in my opinion.

The backdoor into the kitchen with another cute step-down.

My hands were killing me by the end after adding all this foliage but it’s worth it. We also joked in a larp once that when America visited he accidentally broke a gnome and hid it in the bushes. Arthur immediately noticed that Reginald was missing. Where did Reginald go? Reginald???

The front entry room or, I suppose, a ‘mud’ room. I never do these and I really liked it.

A lot of Arthur’s house will be cluttered and lived-in. I love those looks. Also, my apologies in advance, I didn’t realize there would be an outline where my mouse was hovering. I’m a builder, not a photographer.

I wanted a nook of a kitchen. The walls aren’t even that high but the Sims 4 is great about making things ridiculously tall. I think I joked about putting a step-stool in there for him lmao. The door leads down below into a 1/2 bathroom. I also in particular liked that oven because it was a ‘London’ oven.

Greys and browns were something I thought that Arthur would like. More Earthy tones. I wanted a ‘round table’ for obvious purposes. I had a custom content here too and had to improvise when they removed it. I like to think that Arthur also collects those cute dishes that some people do.

The living room as well as stairs going up. I wanted it old-fashioned a bit with an old record player and the TV isn’t the main focus but is there because he has reluctantly upgraded over the years. And while you can’t see it... I miss in Sims 2&3 I believe it was that they would put on ‘chimneys’ for the fireplaces. I love how realistic that is rather than it just... Being in the wall???? So I make 1x2 spaces behind the fireplaces by default now that they’re missing from the game. I miss those. The clipping from the half triangle roof is here along with foliage. Usually my brain just blocks out that stuff or I try to hide it. In this case... I blocked it out and ignored it.

Going upstairs, peering down into the living room.

I really, REALLY wanted this weird bay-window with a ledge here. A lot of stuff I want is a pain to do but I always want to. I temporarily removed a clipping roof object here (It is the ‘rounded roof’ here). I enjoy how it looks outside but not inside. For the pictures sake, I removed it. The window doesn’t allow it to disappear and for some reason it clips into the bathroom as well even though that makes no sense. Roofing is one of the hardest aspects in this game.

The full bathroom first. The top view gives the most details as to how it looks. Since it isn’t big I have to remove the walls to see further into it.

Arthur’s personal office. I wanted to involve a bit more of the spiritual or supernatural things he’s into since I wasn’t interested in making a basement for this project.

Arthur’s bedroom. I really enjoyed this one because of the quilted bed and things like that. I added the rocking chair and knitting sidekick there as an afterthought while looking at this room since, at the time, the knitting pack hadn’t come out when I made this. I thought the contrasting red and green would actually look good and not just Christmas-y. He has his own little walk-on balcony.

Here is the half triangle structure I was talking about as well as the circular roof down below. Roofing is incredibly difficult and I’m OCD and want it to look a particular way. I about had a fit on Spain’s home recently in regards to roofing.

The 3rd floor... The attic that has been transformed into a storage area. I actually really enjoy making storage areas in particular that help reveal some aspects about these characters I create for. In England’s case I like to imagine that America used to live up in here with him and he’s converted it from Alfred’s bedroom into storage. The babyshoes are supposed to be Alfred’s that he still keeps around. Just little bits and pieces over the years that he’s tossed in here and yet it’s still not really that chaotic... All things considered.

Anyways... That’s it! I hope you all like it! I’ve been working on Spain’s and, unlike England, I like to picture him having a HUGE home. Because of how big it is... It has taken much longer. I have the majority of it done though and am mostly left with his 2nd floor and outside foliage to complete before it’s done! I’ll probably upload the ship and island I’ve made for them on the next post.

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

Part 17 of Jimercury Kid series

Freddie had known this wouldn’t be easy.

These were his parents after all. They weren’t bad people; model citizens in fact, far more decent than half the folk on the street who had lived in England their entire lives. But they were products of their time; stubbornly devoted to a religion that demonised their only son’s very existence. They loved him; he knew that – what was the saying? Love the sinner but not the sin?

They loved Khaleel too, despite their reservations about the adoption. Freddie couldn’t help but smile as he watched the little boy chattering away to Jer, his little hands balled in the quilt that his grandmother was in the process of making him. She had been working on it for months; it was a beautiful shade of baby blue, embroidered with flora and tiny little birds. Every time they visited, Khaleel would excitedly watch her sew, asking every five seconds when it would be finished so he could take it home. Bomi, though far more reserved than his wife, would prop the boy on his knee and show him old photographs of his Baba when he was a child, and listen to his grandson natter away about what he had gotten up to at school that day. As far as grandparents went, they were exemplary.

But he knew it wasn’t the same. There would always be that underlying fact that Khaleel was the child of same-sex parents, a union that neither Bomi nor Jer saw as valid. They knew about Freddie and Jim – they had known from the moment they met the Irishman, call it parent’s intuition – but while they liked Jim, they would never truly see him as Freddie’s husband, or their relationship as anything but sinful. Hoping that they would ever understand was wishful thinking on Freddie’s part.

‘Have you thought any more about what we said?’

The frontman resisted the urge to roll his eyes as his father cornered him in the kitchen, having lured him in there with the excuse of putting the kettle on. ‘Not now, Papa.’

‘You’re going to have to come to a decision eventually.’ Bomi insisted. ‘The boy needs a mother.’

‘He doesn’t “need” anything.’ Freddie snapped back; eyes still focused on the stove as he willed the kettle to boil faster. ‘Khaleel is perfectly happy just the way he is. With his fathers.’

‘Stop being so stubborn. You’re putting your own selfish desires before your child. We’re only thinking of what’s best for Khaleel-’

‘No.’ Freddie whipped round, sizing up the old man like an angry dog, though being mindful to keep his voice down. ‘You’re not doing this for Khaleel. You’re doing it for yourself, to make you feel better. You’d rather I marry a woman and spend my entire life living a lie than face up to the fact that your son is a queer-’

Bomi slapped him. It wasn’t hard (at least not as hard as Bill Reid used to swing) but it took Freddie by surprise and jerked his head to the side, a small pink mark appearing on his cheek that he quickly covered with his hand. Tears filled his eyes, but he forced them back.

‘Don’t you dare use such language in this house.’ Bomi growled, voice dangerously low, finger pointed threateningly at his son’s face. ‘Your mother and I have spent years trying to overlook your behaviour, turning a blind eye to all the rumours and gossip. And this is how you repay us. You had everything going for you, a beautiful woman you could have made your wife, and you threw it all away for-’

‘For what?’ Freddie interrupted, taking his hand away from his face so he could ball it into a fist. ‘For a man who I love to every corner of the Earth? Who’s made me the happiest I’ve ever been in my life? Forgive me for refusing to live by your standards, Papa. Forgive me for being myself.’ A single tear fell from his eye, rolling to his jaw. ‘I love Jim. I will always love Jim, Papa. And if you can’t accept that, then you’ll have to get used to not being part of Khaleel’s life.’

He made a move for the kitchen door, but Bomi grabbed his arm.

‘You will not take my grandson away from me.’

Freddie scoffed, though it was far from humorous. He leaned close to his father until their noses were almost touching. ‘Watch me.’

He tore his arm from Bomi’s grip and threw the door open, being mindful to calm himself down and wipe away his tears as he entered the living room to where Khaleel was sitting with Jer.

‘Come on, darling.’ He said, avoiding his mother’s eyes as he leaned down and took the boy’s hand. ‘Terry’s waiting for us outside.’

‘But Dādī hasn’t finished my blanket.’ Khaleel whined, pulling away in an effort to get back to his grandmother.

‘Now, Khaleel.’ Freddie said firmly, giving his son a look that wasn’t to be argued with. ‘Uncle Phoebe will have your lunch ready soon.’

The child pouted but didn’t protest any further.

‘Don’t forget these.’ Jer set down her knitting needles and picked up the little box of cheese biscuits sitting on the coffee table, handing them to Freddie. ‘You’ll be back next weekend?’

Freddie felt his mouth go dry. He could see his father standing in the kitchen doorway in the corner of his eye, but he refused to look at him.

‘Goodbye, Mama.’ He replied, avoiding her question, and leaned down to kiss her cheek. ‘Say goodbye to Dādī and Dādā, Khaleel.’

It was all he could do to keep himself from bawling like a baby as Khaleel scampered over to kiss his grandmother on the cheek and waved his tiny hand at Bomi before allowing his Baba to tug him out the door.

It was only when they had arrived back at Garden Lodge and Khaleel had been herded into the dining room by Phoebe to have his lunch, that Freddie went into the garden to where Jim was pruning the roses, threw his arms around his husband and sobbed into the crook of his neck.

Oof, yeah this is angsty. I just answered an ask about Freddie's parents, and what I wrote in it coincides with your characterisation, even though this is a fictional setting.

I feel like there could've been two scenarios: One where they accepted and loved their grandchild but did not approve of how he was being raised, as you wrote here beautifully. In the second scenario, it's possible that they didn't accept the child (but were warm towards him because it is a child), since it represents what they don't approve. What I mean to say is that throughout Freddie's life he hid his sexuality from his parents even though they were aware of it. He was never blatant about it, never flaunted it in front of them, at least after he got famous. But here, he is openly raising a child with another man. This is a change in situation that may not have been received well by his parents.

But of course, the first one is as likely as the second, because this is fiction, and we can never know how someone would've reacted to something that never happened. And as I said, you've explored this subject beautifully in this fic.

Jer and Bomi were products of their time, and for them a family constituted of a mother, a father and children. Anything in exception to this is still considered wrong (for example, last year the indian government challenged the petition of a few same-sex couples in the supreme court who wanted marriage equality. The reason which they gave was that indian traditional values define a family as a biological mother, biological father and their children. Anything in violation of this structure cannot have a place in this country. This happened in 2020. Imagine it being a lot worse a century ago when Bomi and Jer were growing up in this country).

Gosh, I went off topic here, haha. But this provides a bit of context to their thinking, and the fact that they probably never accepted their son, not in his life and not after his death.

I loved this part, anon. You truly have a gift of conveying every type of emotion—anger, sadness, happiness, love. You're simply amazing💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)