#and maybe squish them into a pulp

[maelstrom007]

The Newcomer

From @ghouljams cod fae!au, Mal gets bugged by someone new.

Mal sat on the floor of their shop, large stone mortar and pestle between their legs as they ground madder roots for dyeing. Their mind was carefully blank, constructing the most neutral emotional state as possible, so as not to impart any one particular intent on the dye goods. In a lot of cases, Mal had to harvest and process things prior to knowing what they would actually be used for. This meant they’d had plenty of practice over the years in imparting as neutral an intent as possible on the goods they kept stocked.

The sound of the madder root slowly grinding into a powder against the aged stone was a familiar one, and Mal could pick out exactly when the powder was good enough by sound alone, going gradually from the popping and crushing of whole roots to the gentle hiss of smooth powder between ancient stones. But it wasn’t there yet. 

Mal felt a presence brush against the open curtains outside their shop, before there was a gentle knock at the door. They were in the zone though, mind blissfully blank, and felt no urgency to get the door. Afterall, the madder wasn’t finished yet. Large chunks still remained interspersed amongst the finer powder, which just wouldn’t do. 

By the time they were done, enough time had passed to cause the shadows to noticeably shift in the shop. They only felt a little bad at the prospect of having lost a customer, afterall their commission log stayed quite full these days. Cleaning up, Mal poured the fresh madder into its glass jar and found a spot for it on the large, over cluttered shelves along the wall of the shop. Preserved and processed dye plants from all over the world found their cozy home among these shelves. 

They felt the gentle brush of a presence against the wards of their shop once again, making them jump slightly. It felt familiar, like the one from earlier in the day, but that seemed unreasonable. Who would have waited this long? Witch could let herself in, and this felt different from that codependent pair, Love and Ghost. 

When Mal opened the door, they saw a handsome fae idly playing with the fabric of the exterior shop curtains. At the sound of the door he whipped around, as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and smiled sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that, the craftsmanship is just amazing I couldn’t help myself. Did you make these?” 

“I did,” Mal said, “are you the one from earlier?”

“Oh yeah, I didn’t mind waiting though, you seemed busy.”

Huh. “Are you looking to come in?” 

His smile brightened, “If you don’t mind. I’ve heard such good things about your work.” 

“You’re welcome in, for this transaction,” Mal said, opening the door wider and feeling the ward surround him like a bubble as he slipped inside. He looked around the shop with wonder, full to the brim with textiles, fiber, dyestuffs, and more. Seemingly forgetting they were there, he strolled around the shop gently touching and admiring everything on display. 

Eventually Mal’s patience wore out. They cleared their throat, losing their train of thought for a second when he swiftly turned his head, giving them his full attention. His eyes were a warm brown, almost yellowish in the afternoon light, and his gaze felt heavy with. . .something.

Quickly recovering, they said, “So, did you have something you were looking for?” Mal really wanted to say ‘What do you want’, but decades spent getting coached by friends on ‘social niceties’ taught them that that would seem ‘rude’. He joined Mal at the high counter top that doubled as a crafting and consultation station, resting his elbows against it and settling in. His eyes were even more brilliant up close. 

He sighed through his nose, pursing his lips in thought before saying, “No, not really.”

Mal’s eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

He shrugged, “There’s not really anything I’m looking for right now.”

“Then why did you come in? Don’t you have something you want? A new obscura, protective wear?” 

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. A small smile bloomed on his face, seemingly amused at their confusion. 

“Then why are you here?” 

He swung his arms open wide, once again taking in the splendor of the shop, “Like I said, I’ve heard such good things about you and your work, and I've peered into your shop once or twice while I've been out and about. I just had to come in and. . .”

Once again he dropped down onto his elbows, leaning over the counter slightly. His eyes quickly flickered up and down, before staring straight into their eyes, “. . .see what all the fuss is about.” 

Mal hummed, oblivious to the once over and took a look at the clock, “Well, I hope your perusal was satisfactory, the shop is closing soon. For future reference it would be helpful to have some kind of idea when you come in.” 

As the clock struck the hour, the ward that had bubbled around the newcomer constricted slightly and his eyes briefly flashed with shock and alarm. It wasn’t a dangerous pressure (yet), but it was uncomfortable and seemed to be pressing most towards the direction of the door. 

He flashed Mal a dashing smile as he walked backwards towards the door, aided by the ward to keep him from knocking anything over, “I’ll be seeing you around then.” 

He winked, and the door shut behind him with a satisfying click.

[beetlehoven]

tw? cartoon gore but it's not like im good at it so it's rlly not detailed. and it's stupid

logan thoughts tyy. his bones are weeeirddd and i wouldn't like to be in that situation

but maybe i wouldn't mind a logan hand glove actually like just slip it off like scchlp as a souvenir tyy luv u hairy smelly boy logan

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Gelid (Geo x My/Any MC/Reader) (Part 1/2)

TO ALL THE MANDIVIDUALS AND TO THE ANONS FROM ALL THE PLANES, I GIFT YOU PART 1/2 FOR A GEO x MC FIC.

A/N: So, essentially I'm an indecisive little bitch and couldn't choose whether to make this an 'x my MC' or an 'x reader', so it's written from the POV and mentality of my MC (Rev), but altered so that it can be read by (hopefully) any MC. :D

This is an original work, made and thought up entirely by me.

Part 2 Link: Torrid (Part 2)

You'll all get to fuck Brugmansia.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Gelid: icy; extremely cold.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

The zephyrs were frigid, the fiery autumn leaves peppered the sepia soils of the park. 

It felt soothing, in a cruel way.

The sharp prongs of twigs jammed into your thighs, the packed soil under you felt as if it had been frozen in an icebox for weeks. Yet the discomfort held a small sense of familiarity. After all, you lived on a farm with weather and terrain similar to this, did you not?

Around you, the wind blew sharply, making the leaves rustle like a soft symphony. Despite the cold biting at your skin, there was something strangely comforting about the scene, almost like a bittersweet lullaby.

As you sat there, feeling the twigs prick your skin and the frozen ground beneath you, memories of your childhood on the farm flooded back. The similarity of the surroundings brought a sense of belonging, even amidst the discomfort.

What wasn’t familiar, however, was the feelings that a gelid soul would bring upon you. A frigid heart whose drumbeat and rhythm dictated your every move. A man of such enigmatic origins, a stoic face and a vehemently cold attitude was all you saw within the late autumn landscapes. 

His wind-swept hair amidst the falling leaves…

His piercing turquoise eyes against the darkening sky…

His concentrated, purposeful gaze as he aimed for a bullseye among the many crows who seemed to eye you insatiably.

As if they knew how little time you had left.

The silence around the grounds was deafening, with the exceptions being the chilling, suffocating grasp that the gradually-strengthening winds held over your vulnerable, light-clothed body.

You shivered, trying to ignore the warnings your body was screaming at you. To warm up, to go home, to at least get a coffee until the winds died down.

But you, as usual, neglected them. You chose your bitter self-disgust over self-preservation. Wanting to feel the touch of winter, yet becoming almost immobile at the graze of autumn.

It was pathetic. 

You were pathetic.

And you bet your soul he knew it too.

A tear fell from the sky, then a second, then ten more.

Even the cloudy skies - the shattered greys against the white cracks - were weeping over you.

Over how defenceless you felt. How you weakly cradled your legs against your shuddering torso, the gusts whipping your back and raking its wintry claws across your numb face.

It was too much. 

Being sent down to a school seen as a second home for the alleged stupid and societally inferior, being indebted to a man whose intent held more poison in his coal-black heart than a taipan’s venom…and most of all?

These stupid feelings you held for a guy you knew would never look at you the way you wished.

Of all people, your heart selected the one it could never have.

Maybe that was fate’s way of making humour out of you.

Your body kept agonising itself, its ornery, fearful demands for heat were getting more vicious and demanding. 

You were being selfish, you knew it. But was it so wrong to want to focus on the ache of your body, rather than the gaping hole within your restless heart?

You used to snort and roll your eyes when people stated the sheer brutality of heartbreak, or the alleged pain that arose from how people knew their ‘crush’ would squish their heart into a bloodless pulp; leaving it exsanguinated and cold, numb to the colours and sounds of the earth.

You now understand. 

You understand the grief and pain you now wish you never had to feel. If you could’ve unpunched that stupid fucking kid and never gotten expelled, you’d have never seen…him.

Never felt your heart squeeze and skip every time you laid eyes upon him.

His beautiful face, his pallid skin—anything with him made you feel fuzzy and warm, so unlike him.

You brushed against his hand once, felt the frigidity of it, its slender structure, its size. 

You hated the cold, resented the feeling of your body constantly shuddering for warmth even when you were snuggled under layers of blankets and clothes.

Yet you touched winter himself, and you couldn’t get enough.

Now you sit in the midst of a rainstorm, small spheres of ice pelting your skull, as if God himself was trying to tell you to leave.

You didn’t. You knew you would never feel winter’s caress again, so you may as well feel its slap. No matter how much it stung.

Something hot trickled down your numb cheek, searing the cold skin with a sudden, brief burst of warmth.

Even the broken shards of the sky were a source of sorrowful comfort for you.

You and your hurting heart. 

Another hot droplet slipped down the icy rink that your face had become, your body serving as an immovable statue; the chills had long since usurped control over you. 

Your heart pounded, trying to pump warm red blood into your glacial, pale flesh; the onslaught of parky, frozen tears falling alongside the sheer brutality and strength of the wind-whips. Through their alliance, you remain covered under the overbearing weight of boreal blankets and sharp sheets of winters’ hiemal essence. 

“MC.”

You froze, your despair placed on a sudden hold as you temporarily ceased your despondencies.

You knew that voice.

Of all times…why does he have to see me like this now?!

You shut your eyes, praying that he wouldn’t approach you. 

Alas, like you expected, he did.

“What the fuck are you doing.”

You didn’t respond. Hell, you fucking couldn’t. The words all slipped from your mind as soon as his regal face came into view.

Your heart started pounding harder, almost as hard as the intensity of his gaze was; his icy blue eyes analysing you, seeing through you, through all your woes.

Surveying how stupid you looked, probably.

His face was taut, steely, gelid.

“Look at me.”

His voice sounded strained, maybe even a smidge melancholy. With trepidation, and a twinge of guilt, your eyes met his.

He knelt down in front of your huddled form, his hand gingerly cupped your frozen cheek, smearing your searing tears across it with his hand - the one that yours briefly grazed against. His other one seemed to be occupied with putting his signature violet hoodie on you, his cold hands now brushing against your body, tugging the soft garment down so it would cover as much of you as it could.

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

He swiftly scooped your numb, shivering body up, his voice laced with an ornery concern and, if your throbbing ears were to be believed, fear.

You were so dazed you didn’t even register your head was pressed against Geo’s thumping heart.

You had to force yourself to not instinctively lean into his chest, to try and glide your flopping hand across his torso, tracing any ridges in his flesh.

Why, despite possibly being on the verge of death, do you solely ponder what his torso would feel like?

Perhaps I’m simply too lucid to function.

You let your head relax against his forearm, the firm flesh serving as a pillow for your head, his body bobbing up and down as he moved, slowly coaxing you further and further into a blissful, serene nap. 

Alas, as you felt his heart pound against your ear, you felt a surge of heat flush into your body. Endless waves of summer’s scorching rays tearing through your body, slowly chipping at the rapidly-diminishing chills that had been wracking your dangling body.

“‘m sleepy…” 

Your voice was soft, fatigued, exhausted. Within your darkening peripherals you saw Geo’s face go slack with…panic?

No, he’s not the type to panic over such subtleties…especially not over me.

“Look at me! MC, MC, c’mon!”

Your head doesn’t move. Hell, it can’t. No part of you can.

You feel unbearably hot, as if your body was being steamed in a red-hot vat of tungsten.

You can’t comprehend much other than the heat, but you notice the stark absence of the broken grey sky; your eyes resting on a sleek black mass. 

Maybe it’s Geos’ car…epic.

“I…feel…hot.”

You mumbled, the urge to remove your garments becoming increasingly stronger with each passing moment. Unfortunately, you couldn’t even move, much less remove your clothes.

But goddamnit you were fucking melting!

You felt limp, your figure now flaccidly slumping on a cold seat, before your head was moved to face Geos’.

“MC, whatever you do, don’t fall asleep, stay awake for me okay?”

His voice sounded fraught and tense, yet still held its soft, quiet authority. One you were willing to do God-knows-what for.

Two frore palms left your face, and you mourned the chill, wanting him to sap away all the stifling heat that had wrapped its fingers around your lungs and heart.

You peeped down at your wraith-like hands, the white a blinding contrast to the dark of the cushioning. Your head again falls slack against the plush seat and you barely manage to turn your head towards the window.

You wanted to see Geo, gaze upon him, see his ethereality under the incandescent lights of the vehicle, but you knew he wouldn’t approve.

Why did he even carry me…why is he trying to save me? I’m trying to fucking kill him…his life is in my hands, and he’s saving me.

Yellows, ambers and red lights all flashed across the glass like fluorescent bulbs, your eyes barely distinguishing where they came from or where they vanished off to. Your vision was still getting darker, and you felt hotter than an egg in a frying pan.

Soon enough, the fiery lights faded, as did the remainder of your sight.

You only felt the blazing heat inside your skin, clinging to your appendages and clawing at your cooked brain.

“‘m sor…ry…Geo.”

The final thing you recalled before succumbing to the temperature was you slouching forward, your head smacking against your knees.

[fiberfantasies]

10 g, 28.3 yds of wool I spun on a top whorl drop spindle. Mostly 2 ply until I ran out of one side and chain plied the rest.

Next is dyeing with mulberries and maybe some blackberries and black raspberries :)

I have alum for a mordant and need a whopping 2g XD

I used a single temperature 20oz fondue pot

1. Soaked wool in warm (accidentally hot) water to open the fibers

2. Measured out 2 g of alum crystals (sourced from the closest Asian grocery store) and ground them to a powder

3. Removed wool, stirred in alum powder until dissolved, replaced wool, let cook for an hour

4. Put a handheld strainer over the wool and mordant water, squished the mulberries into the strainer mesh until completely pulped and no more juice was in them

5. Put the lid on and let sit probably overnight?

We'll see how it goes!

[rainymoodsworld]

hey guys so this is actually my first ever actual writing. so if there’s any mistake please correct me. also english is not my first language

Lo’ak Headcannons

Lo’ak x gn!reader

• first off this boy is head over heels for you, like he would do absolutely anything for you

• if anyone says something bad about you, better know they’re gonna get a taste of his fists

• you adore and love him a lot but it really stings to know that he’s getting beat up to a pulp because of somebody else saying something bad about you

• you’d constantly reassure him telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t really mind about what others say

• yeah that’s not gonna work with him

• secondly, he loves kissing you like it literally brings him joy

• your kiss is kind of like an energy giver (idk how to say this) and it just gets his tail wagging excitedly and blushing real hard

•whether it be a small peck, a long kiss it doesn’t matter , he loves it

• if you have chubby cheeks, guarantee that he will be squishing them so often

• he just thinks you look so adorable ^^

• we all know how lo’ak can be completely reckless and do things that can put him in danger?

• yeah well, looks like you’re joining in these events too

• but he’d be more cautious around you cause he’s afraid of you getting hurt :(

• lo’ak’s self esteem can get pretty low because of his looks and the way he’s just so different compared to his clan

•so ofc as his s/o you’d comfort him by telling his that you love him so much, kiss his knuckles, you’d remind how every imperfection that he sees in his eyes is what makes him perfect in your eyes

• give him a bit of a snuggle and head rub and he’ll melt in your arms

• he trusts you so much that he’ll spill every single thought that circles around his head

•whether that might be an absolutely ridiculous one or something that needs to be written in philosophical books

•idk i just find that maybe he can get kinda poetic when he’s in the mood or smth

• 10/10 relationship

• he loves you so much, don’t ever leave him :((

authors note: how was it? if you have any requests please let me know! i’m only willing to do headcannons and one shots at the moment!

until then,

love🤍

[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

i think i’ve rbed this before but idk but i will give you my fall drink that never fails to delight

first step is to make homemade apple cider, but if you wish you can use store bought, just make sure it’s regular spiced cider and not the sparkling kind. but if you have a slow cooker and you can get your hands on enough apples to fill it up, that’s the best. i’ll put my apple cider recipe under a cut.

once you have your apple cider, make sure it’s nice and hot, put it on the stove for a minute if you need to, but put your hot apple cider in your cup. either fill it all the way with cider and use a chai tea bag, or fill it most of the way and use chai concentrate. add caramel syrup (which is even easier to make at home than apple cider and i bet you already have most or all of the ingredients, i’ll put a recipe for that under the cut too). maybe add whip cream or marshmallows or both, if you’re feeling decadent. it’s delicious!!

hot apple cider recipe:

slice up a combination of your fav apples (i use mostly pink ladies, and some granny smiths) and throw them into your slow cooker until it’s full. if you like citrus, you can add a combination of your fav citrus fruits too, peeled and whole. i usually add one lemon, one lime, and one orange, but you can basically do whatever you want, you could probably add different fruit here too like maybe some cranberries or pomegranate seeds/juice.

once your slow cooker is full of apples and whatever other fruit you wanna add, spice it. i usually use a full cinnamon stick or two for my medium sized crockpot, then add my pumpkin pie spice blend and just kinda eyeball it. if you don’t have pumpkin pie spice blend, it usually has, like, cinnamon, allspice, ginger, and nutmeg. use what you have, think gingerbread or pumpkin pie for the flavor profile.

now that you’ve spiced your cider ingredients, fill your slow cooker with water. then set it to low and leave it be for 12 hours. you can stir it once in a while if you want but you don’t even really have to—tbh, i usually prepare it before bed and leave my crockpot to its own devices while i sleep, so you can just let it do its thing if you don’t have time or energy to stir it.

once 12 hours has passed, take a bean/potato masher and mash up your fruit and spices. at this point, your apples should be pretty soft and easy to mash, same with your cinnamon sticks if you used them. do your best to avoid leaving any large chunks of any fruit, you want it to look like apple sauce or something.

when you’re done squishing everything into a sludge, leave it be again for another hour. you could probably even leave it for longer if you really want but it’ll be ready after an hour.

strain it through a cheesecloth, then sweeten with brown sugar to taste. if u want guidance, i usually use 1 cup of brown sugar for the entire medium size crockpot. you can also leave it unsweetened if you prefer it that way or you have friends who like less sweet things or have sugar restrictions and you wanna share with them. you can strain it and sweeten it all at once, or only enough for one cup at a time. it usually takes a long time to strain ime, so if you’re trying to serve it immediately, one cup at a time may be better for you. if you don’t have cheesecloth, you could prolly substitute coffee filters or very very fine mesh, just know that you may get a little pulp in it, especially if you’re using mesh.

serve it up and enjoy!!!!

caramel syrup:

put 3/4 cup of sugar and 1/2 cup of water together in a pot on the stove. DO NOT STIR. bring to a boil and occasionally SWIRL the pot to combine.

once the water has boiled and the sugar is dissolved, let the sugar water simmer for 15 min or so, until the mixture is a nice golden brown color. still swirl it a few times while simmering. while this is simmering, bring another, separate 1/2 cup of water to a boil (so that when you combine it, it won’t splash so much)

once your sugar water has caramelized and turned a nice golden brown, CAREFULLY whisk in the 1/2 cup of water you boiled separately. it will still splatter, for best results wear oven mitts

add 1/2 tsp of vanilla extract, stir or swirl to combine, and boom, you’re done!

Chai tea bag + lil but of brown sugar + apple cider packet + 16 oz. mug of hot but not quite boiling water

it will not Fix You but like. maybe. maybe.

[frogsandfries]

This is my gallon zipper bag full of shredded paper. It's, of course, nowhere near being full because I keep squishing the air out.

I'm really glad I decided to wait to shred so much paper. I'm able to get more than just used regular printer paper--I have an old informational packet, tons of Walgreens prescription printouts that they give you with the prescription and I've started shredding some envelopes and I don't think you would imagine the variety of patterns and ink shades on the inside. I'm glad I have so much space left in this bag; there's so much opportunity to get more regular printer paper in there, on top of like, my scraps from various projects, to mellow out the effects of any other kinds of paper.

What I want, to the best of my ability, is not sharp distinctions between batches of paper, but as much uniformity as I can manage. I intend to use this upcycled, recycled paper for sketchbooks. As well as wanting to get as many sheets as reasonably possible, which, even if I get like, 30-50 percent as many sheets, is going to be a tooooonnnnnnnnn of sheets, I just don't want any texture variation, if I can help it (so skill-improvements are different from using noticeably different qualities or styles of original paper). I want as consistent as possible of a tone and texture experience, just in case I end up not using these sketchbooks. Well. Even if I end up using them. I can't imagine it would be fun to figure out how to use paper in signature one only to have a completely different experience in signature two. And we all know how much fun I'm having with this shitty sketchbook paper. I have honestly thought about trying to use an iron to hot press my paper. But ironing it will only take the paper experience so far if I don't have the largest variety of fiber types going in.

Anyway, I think I'm rambling in circles. I have the materials that I have to work with. As a maker, it's my responsibility to mitigate my waste and consumption to the best of my abilities. If I'm going to keep making oddly shaped books, compared to the source of my original paper, it is my responsibility to mitigate my waste. If I'm going to continue to receive junk paper, it is my responsibility to find a way to reduce my waste footprint. If I'm going to continue to consume paper (ie the sketchbooks that I make to draw in), I have an amplitude of existing, wasted materials around me, I should make use of that waste before consuming more new material. Anyway, I guess all of this is double-talk for, I'm a hoarder. I need excuses to hoard art materials. Before I started paper hoarding, I was just throwing away free art materials. People couldn't wait to bury me under a pile of paper that I could draw on without buying new paper, and I was just throwing it away!!

Realistically, though, to be honest, it's probably more paper than is realistic to use. Which is another reason to try to keep the paper as uniform as possible.

Speaking of hoarding art materials, I try to hold on to the ends of mechanical pencil lead just out of curiosity of how much pencil lead I'm "wasting" over the course of this project; and I'm still collecting my used kneaded eraser in a used Yoplait cup, the ones that come in the packs. Mostly because, again, I feel responsible for the waste generated by my creativity.

I'm honestly really excited to try papermaking again as an adult. I thought it was a blast as a kid and I wanted to make paper that I would like to draw on. As an adult, I want to try making a relatively nice paper, something that can be folded and bound and drawn on, and maybe even sold to others. It just feels like the bars are kind of high: I want to shred as much of the paper that I have as I possibly can before starting. I want to make 5×8 sheets, because that's the size of sketchbook I use. I, of course, need all the trappings to actually make the paper--the cloths, the frame, the pulp, a blender, some kind of bucket, a basin, or maybe no bucket and two basins--or three??--a space to work in where I won't destroy the apartment or die of heatstroke. I'm probably forgetting some stuff--a way to hang the paper to dry. According to some sources, I need liquid starch??? To make the paper less absorbent of inks. Extras, like colorants? Crayon crumbs, inks, dyes, fibers like fabric or ORTs from embroidery thread, maybe flower petals.

So once I get started, I want enough paper already shredded, to keep me going, and also, to keep things uniform. One of the cool things about living in the desert though, is water doesn't tend to stick around. Which is great. I can use up my quantity of pulp, whether that's a pint or a gallon, filter as much as possible into the frame, into sheets, leave the basin to dry, which won't take that long, and any remaining paper can be scraped out and put into the new batch of paper. Even less waste and contamination than dumping my contaminated water just down the drain. And I don't have to worry much about rain impacting my work area, if I do this outside.

Additionally, I've probably mentioned this before, but the last time I worked with paper pulp, I think I had the best time when I blended the paper to pulp, wrang out the pulp, let that dry fully, and blended the dehydrated pulp back into wet pulp. Plus, it's easier to store than shredded paper, which is easy to blow and flutter around and make a mess, where the crumbled, dried pulp is a little heavier and less fluttery.

Am I excited? Yes, quite. But man, shredding paper hurts my fingers. Is it tempting to go to Walmart and buy a new crafting iron, a small bucket, a sink basin, maybe a throwaway cheap cup for scooping pulp into my water, a bunch of flour sack towels, fabric scissors, some kind of fabric glue, clothes pins, a cheap blender, try to find some nylon screen, and whatever else occurs to me? So much. Not to mention, I need some more drink flavors. Ideally not sweetened with bullshit, nasty "alternative" sweeteners. And I could grab some pillows, maybe some new bedding items. The hardest item would be some kind of card stable or something like that, but I could just have that delivered. I have all the reasons in the world that I could totally just buy a bunch of paper-making stuff tomorrow, literally tomorrow. Particularly, this five hundred dollars burning a hole in my pocket. And the desire to get yelled at about hanging my laundry on my patio. And the desire to have an excuse to make ju-just a few, juuuuuusssstttttttt a couple, just a pinch more sketchbooks. I'm definitely normal lol.

I really ought to run to Walmart tomorrow. I do need more drink mix or something. I can grab just a couple items, like the blender, some flour sack towels and fabric scissors, and then pillows and maybe some new pillow cases. I already have at least one sheet, and I'm pretty sure I have the matching pillow cases. I can grab a few more items on the next paycheck and at least get started on that first-grind pulp. It might just be easier to store dehydrated pulp than the shredded paper

[yummy-anthrax]

Fem!Y/N Curtis x Dallas Winston PART 3

So, I’m switching to second person instead of first, sorry for any confusion, but I think it’ll be easier for people to apply themselves to the story if it’s second person. Enjoy!!

⚠️warning ⚠️ (swearing)(physical violence)(blood)(mentions of a knife)(mention of a gun)

(GIF not mine)

Not telling your brothers about Dally’s offer was easy enough, considering the rumble later that night was all anyone could talk about.

“After we beat those socs to a pulp, I’m gonna throw a party!” Steve stated, stuffing chocolate cake in his mouth.

“How do you plan on gettin’ the money for that?” Darry asked as he played a card game with you and Soda.

“I’ll find a way..” Steve trailed off as he took another bite of chocolate cake.

Darry checked his watch.

“Hey, if we wanna be there in time for the action, we better get goin,” He said, putting down his cards.

Soda followed suit, slapping his cards on the table and jumping out of his chair, whooping and hollering with Two-Bit and Steve all the way out the door.

Darry got up and walked out the door next to Pony, their conversation muffled the the hollering of the other three.

You sat in the chair for a good minute after they left, hearing their shouts of delight fade into the distance.

Then you jumped up and pulled the string that released the latter up to the attic, where your room was.

You’d think that the attic would be dusty and stuffy, but it wasn’t. Darry had dusted and cleaned and everything so you would be comfortable. Now there was a plain bed, a bedside table, and a dresser squished against the walls.

You didn’t mind the small size, it made it more cozy.

You walked over to the suitcase that had some clothes strewn about it (You had attempted to put things away, but got distracted) and picked out a black tank top and a pair of blue jeans. If you were gonna fight, you needed as much mobility as you could get.

You got dressed and stuffed a package of napkins in your pocket. Then you sighed and zipped open the bottom of your suitcase, revealing your small handgun you had brought with you for your safety. You carefully placed it in it’s case (though the case wasn’t shaped like the gun, so it kind of just looked like a long pouch) and clipped it to your belt, praying you wouldn’t need to use it.

Although, you didn’t know about the no weapons rule the socs had agreed to.

Then, you rushed down the stairs to look out the window and scout for Dally.

It took a little longer than you thought.

You had been pacing for the last 20 minutes because you were sure the rumble had already started and you were missing it!

But then a car honked outside and you pressed your face up against the cold glass window to check that it really was Dally before running outside like someone was chasing you.

“Took you long enough!” You huffed in between struggles breaths for air.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dally said, lighting a cig.

“How’d,” you stopped, taking a deep breath in, “How’d you even get outta the hospital early, anyway?”

“Pony and Two-Bit stopped by earlier,” Dally blew smoke out of his open window, “I had Two-Bit give me his fancy black switchblade and used it to talk the nurse into lettin’ me leave.”

You turned away. Was be dangerous? Oh, for sure. But man, was he hot.

It took maybe five minutes to reach the park that the rumble was scheduled to be at, but when you got there, you saw Darry squaring up a soc.

“Hey!” Dally yelled, sliding out of his seat and opening the car door in one swift move.

Darry turned to look at us and got punched square in the face.

You flinched, but Dally ran ahead as people started throwing eachother around.

“Shit!” You muttered, running to catch up to the rest of them.

You saw Pony struggling, so you tried to run over and help him out, but got punched in the side before you got to him.

You fell to the ground, two socs standing over you.

Dally noticed, but he was busy with another guy.

You swiped your leg at one guy’s ankles as he tried to kick you and sent him crumbling to the ground.

The other stomped on your hand, so you punched him in the crotch, sending him to his knees.

You got up and started kicking some soc on the ground.

Then Darry saw you as he took down a guy trying to get you from behind.

“What the hell are you doing here!” He yelled, choke-holding a guy.

“Helping you!” You shrieked back.

You got punched from the side, sending you flying to the muddy ground.

The guy picked you up by the neckline of your shirt as blood poured from your nose.

“Maybe this’ll teach you to ignore me, bitch.”

It was the guy from this morning. Same freckles, same sweater vest, same arrogant eyes.

He threw you over his shoulders and started running as you screeched and started pounding on his back, flailing as hard as you could.

“HELP!” You screamed, “PLEASE! HELP!” Your voice was grainy from all the screaming you had just done.

You flailed even more, which didn’t help when you went tumbling to the ground, this time paved, when a guy tackled the soc.

You watched as you clutches your chest, trying to catch your breath, as the guy beat the absolute shit out of the soc.

When the guy turned around, you scrambled backwards, scared he might come for you next, until they guy spoke.

“Hey! It’s okay kid, get up off your ass and let’s finish this thing!” Dally said, extending his hand for you to take.

There was blood peeking from the corner of his mouth, and a mix of dry blood and mud streaming from his forehead.

You breathed a sigh of relief and took his hand before getting up.

“I’m surprised you heard me, even more so that you helped.” You said, running alongside him back into the mess.

“Well, there’s no way I would let my only shot at a cutie get taken by some idiot soc.” He said between breaths.

“What?” You asked, looking over at him.

“You heard me,” he said.

He turned to look at you, and winked.

[danishdeity]

Listen:

Apples: too diverse. Can be good or bad and sweet or sour or bland and crisp or mealy. The ones from the grocery store have wax one them, you need to wash them, and peeling them for pie is a chore.

Peach: good but fuzzy. Hard to determine if theyre ripe enough or too ripe. Short shelf life. Sticky juice when you bite into them.

Pear: inoffensive taste, but the texture is always too dry or too wet and soggy. Why are they never just ripe enough?

Banana: always good. Always the same. If they're a bit too green, you squish them and it's fine. If they're brown, you make it into cake. Unproblematic King.

Mango: good but ripeness is difficult. Also the pit?? Why is it only like 40% meat and 60% pit? Why do you have to cut it so weird? Peeling it is also annoying. Stickyyyy.

Watermelon: sticky! Too many seeds! You can't remove the seeds. Also too big, you always end up with half a melon uneaten.

Strawberry: good, but flavour varries too much. Also you try to take the green of and it leaves its stem, you cut it and 30% of the Strawberry is gone. Also often mushy. Short shelf life.

Orange: sour? Sweet? PULP. Does not want to be eaten. Only mildly better than a lemon

Raspberry: good but is there a bug in there? Probably. They rot a little bit very easily and then you have to throw it all out. Either the greatest taste in the world or absolutely horrible. Seeds stick between teeth.

Cherry: 50% pit. Too little fruit for the effort put into it. You have to have a little dish or something to put the pit and stem into. No.

Pineapple: good but effort. Ripe?? Maybe! You have to cut it a million times and you still end up with the hard center and the peel. Stabby. Also kinda eats you if you eat too much.

[a-weird-writer]

Can I get one of X and Jewel going through a scenario like the one we were talking about? Nothing R rated, like they're cuddling after the events of MMX 7 and he DOES have that curiosity. ^^

(The particular scenario: being squished by boobies while cuddling XD. So, boob warning. -Weirdo)

Accidentally Boob Squished

Mega Man X

X

It started as cuddling…

It was like any normal day; brimmed of stopping crime, arresting Mavericks, and discussing solutions with close allies. X's heart ever hardens after every foiled Sigma plot, unmoved; he always looks forward to leaning on the supportive soul of his S/O, coming home to a refresher makes a long day of work worth it. His hope, his belief in a better future, his reason for being. His S/O. X can never go out and return from a mission without something to long for, without pleasant reassurances, and not only for his friends. A goodbye till the next hello-and a hello till the next goodbye after that. A lingering promise, given in earnest, some form of gentle comfort and contact from a beloved to look forward to in his returning call. Missing every touch just as the last parts, his core sours at the causes for your absentee even if he doesn't mean too. It was supposed to end like a normal day. His beloved's embrace cures his exhaustion after a chaotic day of support in the Maverick Hunter sidelines and teaching Axl some of the basic ropes of being a Hunter. Out of work for the time being, all he wants is to faint dead in your welcoming arms like a fairytale prince's dramatic princess when he enters home. Home sweet home. X doesn't think when he enthusiastically reaches forward, desperate for your warmth. Practically swimming toward you, a fish hungry for bait, defeated by his desire to become lost in the beating of your center, sweet and serene. He was so glad to see you, it's been mere weeks although it felt like years.

…but then, suddenly breasts!

Bewildered. The first second he is locked in the chasm shaped as your boobs there is a short-lived silence, its eternity. In the next, in the many won battles he fought, you never saw him move so fast. X suffocates within not only your pulp meats, but also in deep embarrassment, swelling head to toe. The moment his head moon lands in your bosom he rockets his head into space the instant his body allows it, it's almost scary how quickly his head yeeted from your chest as quickly as it dropped in. You don't know what's worse, the fact you were completely comfortable-albeit surprised- your super mature and typically observant boyfriend paid an unexpected visit to the empty valley in-between your breasts or that you found it less embarrassing and more hysterical (Maybe both.) than what X clearly felt in his blatant panic of random gibberish. Mouth curled downward, his shocked green robotic dots tightening, surprise turned a horrified grimace. Which then turns into nervous but determined, composing speech. Stammering, nonexistent words, overlapping sentences voiced in energized emotions, occupied by meaningful apologies, meanwhile he tries calming himself. His body isn't shaking, though his fingers tremble, waving them side to side in his assertion; explaining he didn't mean to fall into your breasts! Promise! Difficulty lessens when you finally assure him you aren't hurt, nor are you going to break it off with him.

Accidents happen, such is life, even to advanced Reploids. But he was so nervous his slip up was going to cost your relationship, be the final deal breaker from his mess of a life. You weren't going to rip his head off, you would rather perish than hurt your lover unprovoked, but his anxiety just suddenly spiked! Relief showers, raining gentle dew over him, blissful weather. He still seems skeptical, he probably will laugh at himself later, getting overworked by something so utterly stupid. X sticks to being 4 feet apart from you, he insists till he actually forgives himself for something that absolutely wasn't his fault, he just doesn't want another accident happening! It would be an accident you would welcome in all honesty. Your discomfort is a big no-no in his book, he would strike down any man or robot who dares alike. X maintains no memory of his child self's younger days, but he can guess he wasn't the brightest bulb, despite Dr. Light's hologram insisting the exact opposite. With that in mind, if you ever opened your breasts up whether exposed or not, well... If you offered that means you don't mind if he laid on them, right? He's checking to be sure is all! Yep, this day could've been grimmer, but at least you have him in your arms yet again. All he wants to do is rest, he wants that much. No Maverick attacks, no important missions, no anything. Just your universe, population you and X. You comfort him in your peaceful hug, hands buried in his hair, your love lighting the last few stars in your shared sky. Holding him close, hands intertwined, hearts melting together, like they always do. As you always will.

[grelleswife]

Since Alois can get emotional quickly and all. Does Alois ever get jealous of Claude and his spiders? Does Alois try to destroy them in a fit of rage just to get Claude's attention or does Alois think of the spiders as weird cousins?

(Pertaining to this AU)

Content warning for mentions of animal cruelty, since squishing spiders isn’t exactly a nice thing to do.

I envision Alois as the type of kid who’d love spiders, bugs, and other creepy-crawlies, acting completely fearless around them. He and Luka used to play with critters like that because they didn’t have any other animals they could keep as pets.

However, early in the contract, Alois viewed fanon!Claude’s spiders as a threat because he perceived them as diverting the demon’s focus away from him. This wasn’t actually the case, but Alois’s deep-seated fear of abandonment turned the innocuous little spiders into something of a bogeyman.

This all came to a head one day when Alois was in a particularly bad headspace, which led him to badger Claude that whole morning with a nonstop list of tasks and demands. When the frazzled demon finally got a break, he took one of his tarantulas out of its hiding place in his sleeve and held it in his palm, smiling at the darling creature. Unfortunately, Alois had gone looking for Claude and stumbled upon this scene…promptly flying into a rage.

The boy began screaming at his demon—how dare Claude waste time playing with some ugly stupid spider when he was Alois’s butler?!

“I’ll teach you not to ignore me!!!” the boy screamed, snatching the hapless tarantula out of Claude’s hand, flinging it to the floor, and stomping it into a pulp on the carpet. Even in moments of distress, Claude is rarely demonstrative, but his face went blank with shock at seeing one of his beloved arachnids arbitrarily killed in such a fashion. Realizing what he’d done, Alois burst into tears and fled from the room.

In the aftermath, Faustus carefully cleaned up the spider’s remains and did his best to give them a proper burial, though he couldn’t stop himself from shaking. This was one of the moments when he fully realized the potential horrors of being at a mortal child’s beck and call—powerless to stop their whims even when they turned cruel. And of course, he was devastated by this unexpected loss. But he also wondered whether he really made Alois feel that neglected. He’d successfully completed contracts before this…but never one that involved a human youngling. Was Claude doomed to fail as a Trancy butler?

Meanwhile, Alois had stormed out of the manor and started heedlessly running through the grounds, besieged by guilt. Why had he done that to a spider that wasn’t hurting anybody? What if Claude hated him forever and ever or…or just left?! He had to fix this! Maybe he could find a different spider to give to his demon as a peace offering? Thus, Alois recklessly dashed into the nearby woods, ignoring the ominous storm clouds looming above.

It didn’t take the Trancy demons long to realize that His Highness had gone missing, right as a deluge began pouring down upon the manor. Although rightfully upset over what had happened to his spider, Claude was deeply worried about Alois’s whereabouts, as was Hannah. With the triplets in tow, they set out looking for him posthaste.

Shortly thereafter, Faustus heard a plaintive voice brokenly calling his name.

“C-Claude…” Alois whimpered, tears mingling with the rainwater that trickled down his cheeks.

The boy sat huddled under a tree, knees hugged tight against his chest, soaking wet and utterly miserable. He hadn’t been able to find another spider…no one was coming for him…he was awful, awful…

But then the five demons rushed to the scene, and Claude knelt in front of the tiny, pitiful figure.

“Your Highness…” he started to say, only for Alois to look up in incredulous relief, start crying harder than ever, and throw his arms around Claude’s neck, sobbing that he was sorry and that he’d never do anything mean to the butler’s spiders ever again…

The demon gently picked him up, expression softening just a tad.

“Let’s get you home. You must be freezing.”

A nice warm bath, a soft set of nightclothes, a bowl of soup, and several more tearful apologies later, Alois rested peacefully in bed, curled up with his demons (a bit like dogs might snuggle with their owner), Claude’s arm protectively wrapped around him.

Going forward, Hannah took Claude aside and suggested that he ask Alois to help him feed/take care of the spiders, or show the boy how to teach them tricks. That way, tending to the little guys could become a bonding activity for demon and master, rather than something that made Alois feel jealous or ignored. This plan worked like a charm. Now, Alois is fast friends with Claude’s eight-legged sidekicks. He can easily tell them apart and knows all of their names. Sometimes, if a party being hosted at Trancy manor is getting rather dull, he and Claude release the spiders into the crowd to cause mischief…much to their mutual amusement. 😈🕷

[avenging-fandoms]

I have something for sin hour! It’s for Billy Hargrove from Stranger Things :)

Billy is the king- of almost everything. Girls, Drinking, Basketball, Sex- hell EVERYTHING. And it pisses off (reader), so she tries to make him jealous by talking to guys, wearing skimpy clothes- the whole nine. And it pisses him off so much, he wants to make sure you know he owns you.

i got a little carried away with this..... enjoy :)

--

“go billy!” “yeah billy!” made you roll your eyes so hard they nearly popped out of your skull. billy looked over your head and winked at the girls and you heard them giggle.

billy looked at you and looked you up and down with a hungry smile. you shook your head and he went back into the game, hearing steps next to you and someone sat beside you.

normally you would tell any guy to fuck off, but since billy wanted to flirt with other girls, you saw the opportunity. “what’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” the boy smiled and you return one back. he was attractive, a nice smile.

“just watching the basketball game. not very interesting” you answer as you watch billy dribble down the court and make a basket. you look at the boy, uncrossing your legs and smoothing out your skirt. “yn”

“jack” he smiled, shaking your hand and you bite your lip softly. “you’re not interested in this game? well can i take you somewhere when you can be interested?”

“i wish i could, jack, but i have to go home with my brother. but here is my number, and give me a call whenever” you jot it down on a piece of paper and the final buzzer sounded, stuffing the paper in the pocket of jack’s shirt. you smirk and kiss his cheek, feeling billy’s eyes on you as you hop off the bleachers. 

you slid on your sunglasses and headed outside, pulling off your jean jacket and pushing your hair back. “hey!” you smirk and turn around slowly, a sweaty shirtless billy speed walking towards you. “who do you think you are, hm? flirting with that guy in there, huh?” you pulled your sunglasses to the tip of your nose, looking at him in his angry eyes. 

“i just played your game, hargrove. you wanted to make flirting gestures to those girls, so i just flirted with jack” 

“oh the twerp has a name?” he smirked and you push your sunglasses up, walking towards his car. 

“take me home, billy” you hopped into his sweltering car, holding your hair up and fanning yourself. he got in and turned the car on, the both of you rolling your windows and billy blared his music, speeding home. he pulled to the curb outside of your house, turning down the music. “bye, billy”

“hey” billy grabbed your hand before you got out and you pulled away, circling around to his side. you lean on the window, his face getting closer to yours. “you’re still my girl?” 

“not when you flirt with other girls” you smirk and swiped his nose, swaying your hips as you walk to your front door. you look over your shoulder and blow a kiss to billy before walking into your house. you knew you had to get back at billy, and you knew just how to do that. 

the next day you told billy you weren’t going to school that day, and you didn’t really feel bad for lying to him. you twisted the phone cord around your finger, rolling your lips to spread the lipgloss that billy loved to taste as you kissed him. 

“did you leave for school yet? .. oh good, can you please give me a ride today? .. oh thank you harry, you’re the best. see you in a bit, bye” you hung up the phone and grabbed your bag, reading a magazine as you waited for steve. he honked his horn and you put the magazine on the table, locking the door behind you and heading to his car. 

“you look smokin’” steve smirked and you laughed, pushing your skirt down as you got in his car, closing the door and rolling down the window as you cool down from the warm morning. 

you held onto steve’s bicep as you two walked in, billy doing a double take as he sat in his car watching max. he ripped his sunglasses off of his face, clenching his jaw as he spotted you with the kid he wanted to beat into a pulp the most. 

billy sat in the back of the classroom in a couple of your classes, and you pretended like he didn’t exist until the last class of the day. every class you had with him, you’d act extra flirty towards some boys and billy would roll his eyes and shake his head, knowing that you were getting payback. 

the final bell rung and you dropped your folder, billy picking it all up and slamming it on your desk. you look up at him with puppy dog eyes, his jaw clenched. “you said you weren’t coming to school”

“guess i changed my mind” you tucked your things away and billy followed close behind you. he opened your door and you got in, putting on his sunglasses and he slammed the door, making you jump a bit. 

“we’re going to my house. ‘rents aren’t home and max is going to hang with her friends” he held your face and rubbed his thumb over your lip. “so you’re all mine, babe” billy got you eager now, and you couldn’t stop squirming. he noticed out of the corner of his eyes, reaching over and taking his sunglasses. “how long has it been, babe?” you look at him with slight furrowed brows as he pulled into his driveway. he killed the engine and looked at you. “how long has it been since i touched you?” he smirked and pushed up your strap on your dress, winking and getting out of the car. 

you scoff and slam his door, billy walking into his house. you throw your bag on the floor, billy grabbing a water from the fridge. you smirk and dial your phone at home, no one answering which you had hoped. “hi steve.. nothing’s up, i just wanted to hear your voice again” you bend over the table a little, twirling the phone cord around your finger, seeing billy creep around the corner as he eavesdropped on your fake conversation. “i know, thank you for the ride this morning, billy didn’t want to give me a ride. probably flirting with other girls, you know him .. yeah i’m not doing anything, i’m actually a couple minutes from yours, i can come by. make sure you have condoms, steve. bye” billy stormed over and grabbed the phone from your hand, letting it dangle and holding your throat as he backed you up against the wall. 

“i think i’m gonna head out for a little bit, i’m gonna go hang out with steve. at least he doesn’t flirt with other girls while he’s in a relationship” you smirk and billy’s nose presses against yours. 

“you’re so jealous, huh? you hate that other girls want me, hm, princess?” he said softly, his voice low and making your underwear soak. 

“is that why you stormed over to the phone when i was having a fake phone call with the one guy you’re so jealous of?” you bit your lip and smirk, his eyes darkening. 

“you are mine and only mine, and i’ll fucking make sure you know it” he grabbed your hair and you two head up the stairs, pushing billy into his room and closing his bedroom door. 

“and you don’t think you’re mine, hargrove? you are my pet, my body for a fuck, and maybe the occasional date. but” you squished his cheek and he sat on the bed, looking up at you. “i am yours, and you are mine, billy hargrove” you smirk, kissing him desperately and straddling his waist. you pushed his shirt over his head and gripped his hair, pulling it to the side and littering his neck and chest in hickeys, nothing he could cover up. 

“you really think you’re in charge here?” he smirked and pulled you to the bed, stripping you of your clothes. “can steve touch you like this, baby?” he mumbled against your neck, fingers trailing down your stomach and rubbing your clit slowly. you gasp and look at him, gripping his hair as he slid his fingers inside of you. 

“i want your tongue, billy” you push him to his back, billy pushing off his shorts and underwear. you hover over him and he licks his lips, holding your ass as you slowly sit on his face. you moan as his tongue takes no time to lick up and down your folds. your fingers run through his hair as you grind your hips against his tongue, moaning. “fuck, steve, fuck yes” you didn’t even mean to let steve’s name slip from your mouth, but it riled billy up. he flipped you two over, biting and leaving hickeys on your thighs. 

“steve can’t fuck you like i can, and you know it” billy ripped a condom with his teeth, sliding it on. he pushes inside of you and you both let out a groan, billy holding your hips and thrusting into you fast and rough. his hand wrapped around your hickey covered throat, and you smirk at his hickey covered neck as well. 

“fuck, billy, right there, fuck yes”

“whose pussy is this, hm? who’s the only one who can fuck you this good?” he mumbled against your lips, a moan escaping your mouth instead of words. “tell me, princess”

“you, billy, you fuck me so good, only you, fuck” you whimper and scratch down his back, biting his ear and moaning. his fingers circle your clit and you arch your back, holding onto him tightly. “fuck you’re gonna make me cum, billy” he grabbed your thighs and pushed them against the bed, your eyes widening as he stroked his cock even deeper. 

“cum on my cock, princess. come on, good girl” you threw your head back into his pillow, digging your nails into his biceps as your thighs shake around him. “such a good girl for daddy” he grunted and came into the condom, falling on top of you. he takes a few shaky breaths as you rub his back, kissing his shoulder. he rolls next to you and looks at you, you turning your head and smiling at him. “missed you”

“you did?” you smile, sitting up and walking to his bathroom in his room, leaning against the doorframe. billy took the condom off and tied it, throwing it away. he walked over to you, holding your cheek and kissing you like he really meant it. it wasn’t a ‘i want to fuck you’ kiss or a ‘let’s make that person jealous’ kiss, it was a kiss you always wanted from billy. you wrap your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss. “i missed you too, hargrove” billy walked past you and turned on the shower and you closed the door behind you. “can i tell you something? y’know, little honesty right now?” 

“sure, princess” 

“i.. i really hated seeing you flirt with those girls right in front of my eyes, and barely acknowledging me. i would have never flirted with that jack kid and gotten a ride from steve if i wasn’t so hurt to get in the car with you” you cross your arms over your bare chest, suddenly ashamed of how naked you were in front of him- physically and emotionally. 

“princess..” he moves in front of you, turning your chin to look at him. “you are my girl, only you. i flirt with them because some of them have daddies who work at amazing colleges. i really need a good college. i promise it’s nothing serious. you’re the only one i have eyes for, yn. i promise” you smile softly, rubbing your hands over his chest. 

“thank you” you look up at him, holding his jaw. “thank you for being honest”

“i have never and will never lie to you, or cheat on you. now come on, we’re wasting all the hot water” you both chuckle and he kisses you before taking you into the shower.

[aslitheryprinx]

How did Boo and Tubbo meet in the trust au? Also...headcanons?

Beeduo met when they were both still kids, about ten years old. And there's a lot of trust between them now, but that wasn't always the case. Their first meeting wasn't quite so nice... (Headcanons in tags! :D)

________

Snare

___________

Ranboo sprinted through the woods, panting heavily. There were tears running down his face, burning him, but he couldn't manage to stop them.

"It's getting away!" Came an angry shout from behind him. He heard the slow twang of a crossbow being loaded and screamed when the bolt shot past him, grazing a cheek and landing inches from his face.

He heaved another sob and dove over a fallen log, scrambling back up and sprinting slightly off course. He had to throw them off.

"Where the hell did it go?" Another voice shouted.

Ranboo kept running, praying the thick foliage would be enough to keep him hidden.

He ran until the angry shouts of the humans had faded into the distance. His lungs were burning, and he thought he might be about to throw up, but he'd gotten away.

The hunters had spotted him at the newest village he'd drifted to, and he knew he was in trouble. Usually, someone from the village would come and tell him firmly to leave, that his presence was a danger. He could sometimes manage to scrounge some handouts of food before he was kicked out, which was enough to get by.

Most humans had a soft spot for children, and even a mob hybrid like him could get a little sympathy. He doubted the sympathy would last much longer. He was almost ten now, and was a lot taller than human kids his age. Pretty soon he wouldn't look anything like a cute little kid, and people would start calling the hunters instead of just telling him to scram.

But today, hunters were already there, in the village center. He'd been loitering on the edges of the streets, looking sad an hungry enough that a kinder soul would toss some bread or an apple his way. Maybe a coin if he was really lucky.

But one of the hunters had made eye contact from the other side of the street. His eyes had narrowed, and he'd put a hand on his sword, nudging the hunter he was next to.

Ranboo didn't waste another second and bolted, heading to the forest where he'd hopefully be able to lose them. He wasn't sure how many hunters were chasing after him, but he had heard more than two pairs of footsteps.

The last sounds of the hunters were finally fading in the distance, though, so he let himself relax. That had been the scariest thing that had ever happened to him.

He kept walking, wanting to put as much distance between him and the hunters as he could. He wasn't really sure where he was going, or where he was now, but anywhere was better than back at that village.

His foot landed in on something irregular, and he stumbled. As he tripped, there was a loud thwang and suddenly a net was rushing up around him. He yelped, then the breath was knocked out of him as the trap yanked him harshly off the ground.

His heart was pounding as the net spun in lazy circles, making him dizzy. He reoriented himself with some difficulty, and looked down. The ground was way too far for his comfort, and he made a nervous vwoop sound that would normally get him several dirty looks.

He shifted uncomfortably in the net, wincing when the thick rope scraped against his cheek. It was still raw from the burning tears. At least he hadn't scraped his other cheek. The wound from the crossbow bolt was still stinging painfully.

He wiggled uselessly, trying to see any way he could get out. He was desperately hoping that it wasn't a hunter that had set up this trap, or he was dead.

Suddenly, there was a distant thudding noise. He paused and listened. A half second later, there was another, then another. He was confused as the rhythmic thudding continued, growing louder.

It sounded almost like... footsteps...

Ranboos heart was instantly in his throat, the pulsing almost as loud in his ears as the thuds- the footsteps. He began struggling in the net again, not caring when it scraped his cheeks causing a fresh burst of pain.

He'd take being chased by hunters any day over a giant.

All his struggling seemed to do was get him more tangled in the next. He'd resorted to chewing at the rough ropes with his barely sharper than human teeth, but he hadn't made a dent. All he did was hurt his mouth on the rough texture.

A massive shadow fell over him. Ranboo let out a frightened gasp. He was too late.

"Woah," came the loud voice of a giant from behind him. He sounded younger than Ranboo expected. He turned to look, and a frightened chirp escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

The giant towered over him, even suspended far above the forest floor like he was. His head almost reached the tops of the trees. Ranboo shook as he looked into the curious eyes of the giant.

"You're not a deer," the giant said. Suddenly there was a pair of hands bigger than he was reaching towards him. He flinched, automatically trying to retreat from the terrifying sight. He only managed to make the net swing some as one hand came under him.

The giant lifted his hand up, now supporting Ranboo's weight instead of the net. Ranboo froze, terrified to move when the giant could easily close his hand and squish him. He sniffled once, trying very hard not to cry again.

With his other hand, the giant reached up, untying the net from where it was attached. The rope fell, and the net went slack around Ranboo. He felt relief for a brief second, then the giant's other hand came right towards him.

He yelped, but the giant only pulled at the net, untangling the thick ropes from around him. Once it was no longer entwined in Ranboo's limbs, the giant plucked the net off his hand, stuffing it in a pocket.

Ranboo's stomach churned with anxiety. He could probably be shoved in a pocket just as easily. Something about that was really unsettling, and he tried not to think about it too much.

But that meant he was thinking about the giant. The giant that was currently holding him, could crush him until he was a pile of Rangoo. The giant that was currently staring directly at him with eyes that felt like they were boring into his soul.

He made a frightened noise as the giant lifted him up, closer to his face. He could just barely feel his breaths wafting over him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for the worst.

"Awww, you're hurt!" The giant said, the volume making him flinch. But he opened his eyes again, confused at the concern in the words.

"What happened?" The giant asked.

"U-um," Ranboo squeaked. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "H-hunters. They were trying to k- to hurt me."

The giant frowned. It was something Ranboo would've expected to be frightening, but the giant looked more like he was pouting than anything.

"That's stupid," the giant declared. "Hunters sound mean." Ranboo nodded hesitantly.

"Y-yeah they're really mean. They saw me in the village and then chased me out here."

The giant hummed. He poked Ranboo with a single finger. The ender hybrid let out a startled noise, heart spiking with panic. He stayed very still as the giant kept poking him, eventually playing with his hair. He was very gentle, and it didn't hurt, but it was still pretty nerve-wracking.

"My name is Tubbo! I just turned ten," the giant said. "How old are you?"

"Um. I'm about to turn ten," Ranboo mumbled nervously.

"So you're nine! Ha! I'm older!" Tubbo said. He paused, giving Ranboo a funny look. "You didn't say your name."

"S-sorry," Ranboo said quickly, not wanting to make the giant angry. "My name is Ranboo."

"Hi Ranboo! That's a funny name," the giant said. Ranboo frowned.

"My name is fine," he muttered a little petulantly. First Tubbo caught him in a net, then was super scary and poking at him. And now he was making fun of Ranboo's name! He was too scared to say it loudly, which wasn't fair.

Tubbo started poking him again, and he let out a small stressed vwoop. Then the giant brushed his cheek and he winced, whimpering.

"Sorry!" Tubbo said. "I guess it's still bleeding. Oh! I have bandages at my house. I'll take you there!"

Uh oh. Ranboo did not want to go home with the giant, he decided. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, but stopped. What could he even say?

Before he could decide how to ask Tubbo to let him go without him getting angry and squishing him to a pulp, the hand beneath him moved, knocking him off balance.

He was suddenly pressed against a massive chest, and he stiffened. Tubbo was walking, chattering about something, but Ranboo couldn't focus on the words because of the deep pulsing sound in his ears. It was the giants heartbeat, and it was kind of terrifying he could hear it so clearly. It was also a relaxing sound, and Ranboo couldn't really decide which it was more of.

Tubbo kept walking, and Ranboo had no choice but to go with him, trapped as he was against his chest, listening to the steady heartbeat.

Eventually, Tubbo slowed, pulling Ranboo away from his chest. Ranboo stared up nervously at the giant.

"We're here!" Tubbo said cheerfully, ducking into a massive cave. Ranboo looked around wide-eyed at the massive furniture. He jumped as Tubbo's hand moved once more, lowering him onto a table.

"Stay right there, I'll go get the bandages!" Tubbo told him, then he walked deeper into the cave, out of sight.

Ranboo stared for a moment, before he realized this was his chance. He stood quickly and ran to the edge of the table. The drop was steep and high and utterly terrifying. Ranboo backed away from the edge. Maybe his chance could come another time.

"Hey!" Tubbo suddenly said. Ranboo hadn't heard him come back. And he'd come back much quicker than he expected.

Suddenly, he was being scooped up in the giants hand again, and he yelped. The giant was frowning again, and Ranboo realized the pout was kind of intimidating when it was being directed at him.

"No running off until you're fixed up," Tubbo scolded. It sounded like something a parent might say, and Ranboo wondered if he'd learned it from somewhere. It was still utterly terrifying coming from an irate giant.

"S-sorry," Ranboo apologized, a little breathless with fear. Tubbo blinked at him. His frown deepened before his expression became a little guilty, a little hurt.

"Are you scared of me, Ranboo?" He asked. Ranboo froze, not sure how to answer. Tubbo seemed to take his silence as its own answer.

"You are!" He said, and Ranboo flinched back. Was Tubbo angry at him for being scared? If he was, that would just make Ranboo more scared, and he wasn't sure what he would do then.

"I'm sorry," Tubbo apologized, and Ranboo looked up in surprise. Huh?

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Was I mean?" Tubbo asked, sounding genuinely upset. "I was trying to be really nice! What did I do wrong?" Ranboo's brow furrowed. Did he really think he wasn't scary at all?

"You- you caught me in a net!" Ranboo said, reeling a little. "And you kept poking me!"

"The net wasn't on purpose!" The giant protested, and Ranboo shrank back a little. "I was trying to catch a deer, but it was you instead."

"It was still really scary," Rambo pointed out quietly. Tubbo wilted a little.

"I guess it would be pretty scary. I didn't mean to, though," he said. "And I guess poking is pretty terrifying too. I was just curious. I didn't mean to be mean."

"Well... I guess you weren't really mean," Ranboo said honestly. "Not on purpose. You're still really scary, though."

And it was true. It wasn't as frightening anymore, if Tubbo was trying not to scare him, but the giant still loomed over him. He could still hold him in a single hand, and could pick him up or poke at him whenever he wanted. That really scared Ranboo.

"I'm sorry," Tubbo said sincerely. "If I try really hard not to be scary, will you stay until your cut is better?"

Ranboo fidgeted. He didn't really want to stay. But... Tubbo was trying not to scare him. And he actually was nice, nicer than most people Ranboo met. He had changed his mind; he definitely preferred Tubbo to the hunters. And maybe... Maybe if he stayed, he wouldn't have to go to a new village for a little while. Tubbo had promised he wouldn't hurt him...

"Trust me! I can be really nice! No more mean and scary Tubbo!" The giant looked at him imploringly. Ranboo hesitated, then nodded.

"Ok," he said, hoping he was making the right choice. "I trust you."

Tubbo beamed.

Previous (sort of)

Next

[hqmillioncorn]

FFXIVWRITE: DAY TWENTY 9…….Fuse

‘Welcome to the party! There’ll be no leaving early tonight!’

cherrypit and his dolls and also babycorn and centella go find a pumpkin to carve!!!!! pay no attention to the small ghost running around yelling at the top of his lungs.  somehow around 20 dolls fit in the backseat of a car

Cherrypit took a red crayon from his large basket of assorted and broken crayons and climbed on top of a stool to reach the calendar he had made all by himself. On the calendar there were several symbols drawn all over the different days. Each of them meant different things, either things that Cherrypit was looking forward to or things that happened that day that Cherrypit wanted to draw out.

The biggest drawing on the calendar was of a carved pumpkin that Cherrypit had drawn of his dream pumpkin. Ever since he found out about the concept of carving shapes into pumpkins last year he’d been begging Babycorn for the chance to carve his own pumpkin.

To be fair to her, she did let him try, once. What ended up happening was that Cherrypit got so excited he crushed the pumpkin into a pulp and the mansion’s living room had the lingering smell of pumpkin for days.

Babycorn made him a promise that they would be able to not only get another pumpkin but they could go pick one themselves!

Cherrypit was so excited to hear the news he ran around screaming and kicked the mansion’s mailbox into orbit. Babycorn had to pay out of her pocket for a new one but the pumpkin plan was still on.

“Cross!” Cherrypit crossed out the day that represented yesterday and tapped his crayon on the drawing of a big pumpkin with a face on it. “Today! Today!” He cheered, because today was the day he and Babycorn would be going out to get the coveted pumpkin.

This time he would be super duper extra careful not to smash it into a million different pieces. Even if smashing it was a lot of fun. He would just have to find something else to squish, like maybe a bowl of grapes or something.

Cherrypit hopped off of the stool and ran back to the rug where a coincidental bowl of grapes was waiting for him alongside his costume for All Saints wake. This year he asked Babycorn if he could dress up as a ghostly sheet with fox ears. Babycorn was quick to get him the exact costume he asked for, she drew little whiskers on the sheet for emphasis.

It was much simpler than last year’s costume of; Wedding dress covered in blood with a hatchet through their head. Babycorn had resorted to asking Lunya for help with that one, alongside with making the mistake of asking several people where she could get blood.

Though when Babycorn gave him this year's costume she didn’t think he would love it enough to wear it every single day. He’d been wearing it every hour of the day for weeks now to the point where Babycorn was afraid the costume wouldn’t make it to All Saint’s wake, considering how rough Cherrypit played.

Today was no different, as the door to their room opened Cherrypit threw the sheet on top of him and ran to greet whoever just opened the door. “Boo! Boo!” he shrieked while waving his ghostly arms around.

Babycorn almost dropped her basket over how scared she was. Almost. Because out of everything that scared her, Cherrypit was never one of them, no matter how hard he tried.

She still tried to act scared for him whenever Cherrypit did try to scare her. She just figured dropping her basket and screaming loudly was overselling it a little bit, Cherrypit would be able to figure out she was faking it right away. A scream would be just right for this type of situation. Multiple people around her already told her that Cherrypit probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference but Babycorn was very stubborn that he was smart enough to tell.

“Cherry! You scared me!” Babycorn gave him a little pat on his head and ran over to grab her shoes from their designated shoe shelf. “Are you all ready to go?” Babycorn looked back to see Cherrypit running around still saying “Boo! Boo! Boo!” as fast as he could.

“Cherry come on! Centellas waiting for us outside! She’s gonna take us to this really cool place that she says has lots of pumpkins!”

Cherrypit stopped mid step to look at Babycorn. “Pump-pin?!” Before Babycorn could say anything else, Cherrypit ran over and babbled to several of his Calca and Brina dolls before grabbing his bowl of grapes and running back.

He pointed at his dolls, “Coming too!” Cherrypit had actually asked them if they wanted to come with them and all of the dolls happily answered with a resounding ‘Yip ho ho! We’ll go! We’ll come!’ while spinning in place.

Babycorn was wondering what all that spinning was about. “Hmm…I hope we’ll all fit in the regalia…” Not only was Centella using her floral designing connections to find them the best pumpkins in Eorzea (allegedly) but she also volunteered to drive them there.

“Eh, it's probably fine.”

———————————–          

Turns out all the dolls that decided to come all fit in the backseat. Most of them were sharing a seatbelt because (despite what Taro had told Cherrypit) road safety was important. Or as Lunya had said to him once “There’s nothing lame about seatbelt safety.” So Cherrypit made extra sure everyone was buckled up.

One Brina doll in particular was seated sideways and wearing a very annoyed expression. This car ride couldn’t end any sooner.

Cherrypit meanwhile, was seated in the backseat to the left of his dolls on his bright pink baby car seat which, of course, must exist because otherwise how else would Cherrypit be safe?

The car ride was taking a little too long for his liking and he was quickly growing impatient. Babycorn and Centella were talking about something in the front seat but whatever it was they were talking about went over Cherrypit’s head.

At that moment Cherrypit suddenly remembered he brought his bowl of grapes with him. There were still a lot of them so he at least had something to snack on while waiting to get wherever they were going.

Cherrypit took a grape and held it between his fingers. “Bebe!” Normally he would kick his sister’s seat to get her attention but Centella was the one driving today, not Babycorn. “Bebe!” he cried out again.

This time Babycorn heard him, she turned her head around to look at him. “Hmm? What’s up Cherry?”

Cherrypit held up the grape between his fingers to show her. “Eyeball! It’s an eyeball!”

“Oooh yeah…! It does look a little like an eye doesn’t it?”

Cherrypit brought his two fingers together and squashed the grape between them. “Eye pop! Eye goes pop!” he giggled and babbled a few more nonsense words before grabbing another grape and doing the same thing.

Babycorn turned back around with a nervous laugh.

Centella, having overheard the whole thing, didn’t seem too phased by it. “Sometimes kids just say weird stuff. Don’t worry about it.” she assured Babycorn. While Centella didn’t have any siblings younger than her, she did have experience in dealing with kids while running around doing favors for Babycorn.

“Yeah..??” Babycorn hoped that Centella would never have to see Cherrypit in the middle of a fight.

———————————–          

Cherrypit ran around knocking on every pumpkin like he was knocking on a door. He had seen some of his friends doing this with lots of fruit and vegetables around him. He wasn’t quite sure why they did that but it did look a lot of fun.

“Who’s there?” he asked the pumpkin. Unfortunately there was no answer. Not even when Calca and Brina knocked alongside him. When Cherrypit asked if anyone had answered him he only received a pair of sad shaking heads.

“Aww…”

Cherrypit had been left on his own to look for his perfect pumpkin to carve. Thankfully Babycorn was still close enough that he was able to run around without the danger of passing out and waking up in her body. Centella and Babycorn were passing the time eating slices of pumpkin pie that Centella’s friends gifted them. An entire pie was already set aside just for Cherrypit.  

For now Cherrypit and his dolls were roaming the small pumpkin patch, looking for the chosen pumpkin. He wasn’t exactly sure what it looked like but he was sure he would know it when he saw it. So would the other Calca and Brinas, on sight.

In hindsight, Babycorn was glad she had asked Centella in advanced on a day they normally wouldn’t let visitors in, otherwise there would be a lot more people running around in terror.

Cherrypit carefully stepped around a rogue puddle of mud and scanned the area around him. Despite what Babycorn believed, he really didn’t want to dirty up his costume either. In fact, he had spent the last few weeks making sure that his costume stayed one-hundred percent intact for the big day. If that meant having to give up his favorite morning activity of jumping into the bushes and biting off a branch of them, then so be it.

Suddenly, something caught his eye!

It was a huuuuuuuuuuuuge pumpkin! Right there in front of him!! Suspended in the air!! On top of a small cottage!!! It looked even bigger than the house they lived in with everyone! Maybe they could live in this pumpkin?! Whatever the case it was PERFECT!!!!!

“Pup-kim! Pump-kin!” Cherrypit hopped up and down, pointing to the pumpkin through the sheet. The dolls around him all perked up and ran to gather around him, eager to see what Cherrypit had found. He pointed to the pumpkin he chose, “Perfect!” he repeated.

In reality the perfect pumpkin was nothing more than a big cut out that Centella had actually made herself. Toiling over it for hours she finally cut it into the perfect shape and managed to paint it after spending hours asking K’achow to help her with it.

Arguably it could be said that Centella and K’achow did such a good job with it that it was good enough to fool a toddler into thinking that a flat cardboard cut out was actually a full-blown giant pumpkin.

Cherrypit ran over the building the pumpkin was on top of. Normally he would just stretch out parts of his arms to grab it easily. But if he did that, then he would rip apart his costume! Bebe had worked really hard on it and he didn’t want to break it or make it dirty. Now, he probably could also take it off but he didn’t want to do that either.

“Umm…” He swayed from side to side, trying to think of a solution to his big problem. He couldn’t ask Bebe either, she wasn’t strong like he was. At least, not when it came to lifting things up. Cherrypit remembered how tired she looked from just carrying an umbrella around.

‘Yip yip ho! Leave it to us! Yip ho ho!’

Cherrypit turned around to see all of his dolls formed around him. They were forming a circle together, their hands locked together. A lone Brina doll entered the circle and held her hand out for Cherrypit to take. A sleeved hand grabbed the doll’s hand and she led Cherrypit out of the circle. “Watch this! Yip! Yip! Ho!’ Brina said before closing the circle by grabbing the hands of the dolls next to her.

‘Adorable dolls! Terrible dolls!’

The dolls began to gather…

———————————–          

“-that’s when I told him-Well If you’re going to be fishing all day at least catch some big fish for goodness sake!” Centella laughed while recounting the story that K’achow had come running home after bringing home the smallest fish imaginable.

She admitted they were a nice catch but he’d been gone fishing the whole day. Surely he would have caught something bigger.

Babycorn picked up the very last crumb of pumpkin pie on her plate and ate it. “Fishing is really hard…Sometimes catching really big fish takes a really REALLY long time!” She recalled seeing her friends come home just to collapse on the floor in despair after going out to fish all day.

“I think K’achow should take you fishing next time then! You’d probably be able to help him a ton!”

Before Babycorn could say something along the lines of “Me?! Oh no, Cherry does all my fishing for me.” a loud BANG rang around them.

Centella had caught Cherrypit’s pie from falling to the ground just in time. “What was that?!” She didn’t have to wait or look very long to find out the answer to her question.

In front of them, just completely out of nowhere, was a large purple doll with yellow pigtails on top of her head.

Centella let out a shriek and turned to run away, presumably with Babycorn. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed that Babycorn wasn’t following her. ‘She must be frozen in fear! I have to do something!’ Centella tried to pump herself up and took out her small axe. It wasn’t anything like a proper weapon but it was sharp at least. That was probably good enough to protect themselves for a little bit.

“Don’t worry Babycorn! I’ll protect you and Cherry!” Centella bravely proclaimed.

“Huh?”

“Huh.”

Centella lowered her axe and looked down at Babycorn. She looked remarkably calm given the situation. “What do you mean huh?!” If any should be freaking out it should be her! Considering that Cherrypit was still out there!

Instead she looked…exasperated to say the least.

“I keep telling them not to do this but what can you really do…” her smile looked tired.

“What?”

Deciding that actions spoke louder than words, Babycorn pointed at the doll, specifically around the shoulder area. Centella looked at Babycorn again and then to where she was pointing. There was a small white figure on the giant doll’s shoulder, it looked like it was bouncing up and down.

Centella didn’t even notice that the doll was currently grabbing the giant pumpkin cut out from the building in front of it. She was too focused on trying to find out why this was so fami-

“Those are Cherrypit’s dolls aren’t they.”

Babycorn nodded

“They can just do that?”

“They can just do that!”

———————————–          

In the end Cherrypit got the pumpkin he wanted, because there was no way anyone was going to turn down the request of a giant doll and a small little two-year-old ghost.

[icaruskey]

As I’m coming into the crunch time, I’m having to figure out exactly how I’m going to figure out this whole final critique thing. 

I have five projects to have some level of “finished” by final critique. Two of them won’t actually be done anytime soon, and then unrelated I have a five page paper to write. But the projects, and details, and things I need to figure out, are under the cut because it’s a lot of talking to myself.

untitled lithography print: a 3 color print (because I always have to be extra, even with a smaller print). Edition of 5, starting printing in class Monday, so we’ll see how long it takes. 

depending on how this goes and how much time I’ve got free, I may use the scraps of photo litho plates to make a couple of little books. No idea what the subject matter would be. If I enjoy the lithography process, maybe I’ll test some pigeons? That’ll make sense in a minute 

dermatillomania book: my “sculptural” book. I need to purchase some brown ink to mix into the red and make it more like dried blood. I need to get through a small but decent chunk of it, maybe an entire section (there’s four)? But they’re pretty fat. 

this also needs a cover. I know the style of cover I’ll be making, but not the cover. Very possibly bare board since my bookbinding professor is extoling the virtues of bare board so much. I think that + white thread would be rather striking if I decorate the cover at all. no ideas yet. 

tentacle book: yeah this still needs a proper name. My main goals are to finish the base etchings (3 layers of tentacles on each side of my papers). I need to cut down another page of stonehenge because I fucked up a page. :’) But I think I can do nine layers a day. Just depends cause it takes me about an hour, hour and a half including clean up. 

Cover (yeah, there’s more). I need to make a mockup of my cover with the proper stuff I’m using (though I might use a thinner board just for my own sanity. I already broke a needle. 

Oh yes, there’s a lot to this one. I need orange, fluorescent orange thread for this. Dunno if I’m going to dye something from school or purchase it. Also, small beads to sew into the tentacles. 

oh I also need to work on the poem that’s going in. I can do that now cause I have the mockup text block. I can get that started at home at least.

Basically, I need to have a completed mockup yay.

kudzu prince: this is a two part project. The broadsides only need the text and car (”only” lol), and I’ve got...240 pages to print for my books. Yes, I’ve already gotten several layers done on half of that, but even a conservative six layers per page results in  over 1400 layers. Luckily for me, I am doing this on the vandercook, and I got through a nice amount of layers in six-ish hours. So I’ll do some math Saturday night to try and plot it out. 

untitled pulp painting: this is an edition of ten, and I’m trying to figure out if I want to do massive variations or not. Basically I’m creating an image and squishing it between two sheets of paper. It’s all paper and a piece of string. Trying to decide if I want to change the image or just where I’m placing the color. But this is the easiest cause I’m doing one image a day, and that’s it. 

Trying to think of what projects I’ve done and am willing to show off for final critique...

woodcut print

etching print 

(lithography print)

(dermatillomania book)*

first tentacle mockup (that I’m now using as a sketchbook)

(second tentacle mockup)

(kudzu prince broadside)

(kudzu prince book)

paper editions

(untitled pulp paintings)

(tentacle pages)*

*will be WIPs

That’s actually quite a bit of work considering this is all in four months. 15 weeks technically. Fuck, okay, no wonder I’m so tired. 

[frogsandfries]

This is my gallon zipper bag full of shredded paper. It's, of course, nowhere near being full because I keep squishing the air out.

I'm really glad I decided to wait to shred so much paper. I'm able to get more than just used regular printer paper--I have an old informational packet, tons of Walgreens prescription printouts that they give you with the prescription and I've started shredding some envelopes and I don't think you would imagine the variety of patterns and ink shades on the inside. I'm glad I have so much space left in this bag; there's so much opportunity to get more regular printer paper in there, on top of like, my scraps from various projects, to mellow out the effects of any other kinds of paper.

What I want, to the best of my ability, is not sharp distinctions between batches of paper, but as much uniformity as I can manage. I intend to use this upcycled, recycled paper for sketchbooks. As well as wanting to get as many sheets as reasonably possible, which, even if I get like, 30-50 percent as many sheets, is going to be a tooooonnnnnnnnn of sheets, I just don't want any texture variation, if I can help it (so skill-improvements are different from using noticeably different qualities or styles of original paper). I want as consistent as possible of a tone and texture experience, just in case I end up not using these sketchbooks. Well. Even if I end up using them. I can't imagine it would be fun to figure out how to use paper in signature one only to have a completely different experience in signature two. And we all know how much fun I'm having with this shitty sketchbook paper. I have honestly thought about trying to use an iron to hot press my paper. But ironing it will only take the paper experience so far if I don't have the largest variety of fiber types going in.

Anyway, I think I'm rambling in circles. I have the materials that I have to work with. As a maker, it's my responsibility to mitigate my waste and consumption to the best of my abilities. If I'm going to keep making oddly shaped books, compared to the source of my original paper, it is my responsibility to mitigate my waste. If I'm going to continue to receive junk paper, it is my responsibility to find a way to reduce my waste footprint. If I'm going to continue to consume paper (ie the sketchbooks that I make to draw in), I have an amplitude of existing, wasted materials around me, I should make use of that waste before consuming more new material. Anyway, I guess all of this is double-talk for, I'm a hoarder. I need excuses to hoard art materials. Before I started paper hoarding, I was just throwing away free art materials. People couldn't wait to bury me under a pile of paper that I could draw on without buying new paper, and I was just throwing it away!!

Realistically, though, to be honest, it's probably more paper than is realistic to use. Which is another reason to try to keep the paper as uniform as possible.

Speaking of hoarding art materials, I try to hold on to the ends of mechanical pencil lead just out of curiosity of how much pencil lead I'm "wasting" over the course of this project; and I'm still collecting my used kneaded eraser in a used Yoplait cup, the ones that come in the packs. Mostly because, again, I feel responsible for the waste generated by my creativity.

I'm honestly really excited to try papermaking again as an adult. I thought it was a blast as a kid and I wanted to make paper that I would like to draw on. As an adult, I want to try making a relatively nice paper, something that can be folded and bound and drawn on, and maybe even sold to others. It just feels like the bars are kind of high: I want to shred as much of the paper that I have as I possibly can before starting. I want to make 5×8 sheets, because that's the size of sketchbook I use. I, of course, need all the trappings to actually make the paper--the cloths, the frame, the pulp, a blender, some kind of bucket, a basin, or maybe no bucket and two basins--or three??--a space to work in where I won't destroy the apartment or die of heatstroke. I'm probably forgetting some stuff--a way to hang the paper to dry. According to some sources, I need liquid starch??? To make the paper less absorbent of inks. Extras, like colorants? Crayon crumbs, inks, dyes, fibers like fabric or ORTs from embroidery thread, maybe flower petals.

So once I get started, I want enough paper already shredded, to keep me going, and also, to keep things uniform. One of the cool things about living in the desert though, is water doesn't tend to stick around. Which is great. I can use up my quantity of pulp, whether that's a pint or a gallon, filter as much as possible into the frame, into sheets, leave the basin to dry, which won't take that long, and any remaining paper can be scraped out and put into the new batch of paper. Even less waste and contamination than dumping my contaminated water just down the drain. And I don't have to worry much about rain impacting my work area, if I do this outside.

Additionally, I've probably mentioned this before, but the last time I worked with paper pulp, I think I had the best time when I blended the paper to pulp, wrang out the pulp, let that dry fully, and blended the dehydrated pulp back into wet pulp. Plus, it's easier to store than shredded paper, which is easy to blow and flutter around and make a mess, where the crumbled, dried pulp is a little heavier and less fluttery.

Am I excited? Yes, quite. But man, shredding paper hurts my fingers. Is it tempting to go to Walmart and buy a new crafting iron, a small bucket, a sink basin, maybe a throwaway cheap cup for scooping pulp into my water, a bunch of flour sack towels, fabric scissors, some kind of fabric glue, clothes pins, a cheap blender, try to find some nylon screen, and whatever else occurs to me? So much. Not to mention, I need some more drink flavors. Ideally not sweetened with bullshit, nasty "alternative" sweeteners. And I could grab some pillows, maybe some new bedding items. The hardest item would be some kind of card stable or something like that, but I could just have that delivered. I have all the reasons in the world that I could totally just buy a bunch of paper-making stuff tomorrow, literally tomorrow. Particularly, this five hundred dollars burning a hole in my pocket. And the desire to get yelled at about hanging my laundry on my patio. And the desire to have an excuse to make ju-just a few, juuuuuusssstttttttt a couple, just a pinch more sketchbooks. I'm definitely normal lol.

I really ought to run to Walmart tomorrow. I do need more drink mix or something. I can grab just a couple items, like the blender, some flour sack towels and fabric scissors, and then pillows and maybe some new pillow cases. I already have at least one sheet, and I'm pretty sure I have the matching pillow cases. I can grab a few more items on the next paycheck and at least get started on that first-grind pulp. It might just be easier to store dehydrated pulp than the shredded paper