#chainmail patterns

[streetmaille]

Color the snowy days away with these printable chainmail coloring pages! Great for designing inlays and patterns ❄️☃️

Get the downloadable coloring pages here: https://streetmaille.etsy.com/listing/1376149245 

[pippenpaddlopsicopolisthethird]

My dissertation is in the final stages and I really need to be putting a lot of focus onto this draft to get it as close as possible to completed by next week.

Which means of course that my brain is desperate to focus on anything that ISN'T the draft. I've learned long ago that trying to Only focus on the important thing doesn't work at all, but I very can't ignore it.

Only solution is to reward the bits of Important Draft Work with bits of Fun Escape Project. Between checking data points and rewording results for precision, I'm fiddling with trying to invent a pattern for a crocheted chain mail coif!

It looks like a pretty basic pattern in the round. I found a vintage doily pattern from 1940 to give me an idea of how to start. The center of the top of the head is done in filet stitch, which looks squarer than I'd like but is pretty secure and will probably feel more comfortable on the top of the head. Then I'll move over to a chain netting stitch, which will hopefully give me more of a round look.

Here's what I'm starting with; I think that the next round is when I'll move over to the netting.

I'll update with progress as I go! I may end up with a usable pattern too!

[merrymorningofmay]

oh lawd. she comin

[waffliesinyoface]

watching the lotr bonus documentary on youtube (why the fuck wasnt it on the 4k collection warner brothers, you hacks) and feeling a deep sadness and longing that that level of meticulous detail and craftsmanship and love just simply likely won't exist on that scale ever again.

you know, much like how the elves feel in lotr. the light has faded.

it especially kills me because i'm training to be a carpenter who can make quality furniture. and i live someplace with lots and lots of studios. making real-ass wood furniture specifically designed to be fancy setpieces would be incredible. but lol no the industry doesnt care about artisans anymore, get fucked

[aworldofpattern]

Metallic links top at Loewe SS25

[hyah-lian]

I am starting to make the biggest project I have ever done and it will be an eyesore

I am so excited

This is not loz/aus related but gdi I am.proud and excited so!

These are also only HALF the rounds I was supposed to do (I was supposed to use laceweight/crochet thread but I didn't want to lol) which is super fun bc that means it's gonna take half the time I thought it would

[vraska-theunseen]

(gets into a hobby that's very complicated and has limited documented instruction for everything i want to learn the farther and more niche i get into it just bc of the nature of a lot of the more complicated things i find are uploaded by one person who didn't make a tutorial) what the fuck. why is this hard

[koniknits]

I love ravelry.

[streetmaille]

Learn to make a Chainmail Ball with my beginner friendly DIY kit!

Grab the kit at: https://streetmaille.etsy.com/listing/689756490 

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

While researching for upcoming fish facts I ended up going down a rabbit hole on parrotfish teeth, and I need to share this information in another form than just a fish fact. This stuff is unbelievable. You know the beak of the parrotfish, right? It's formed from the fused teeth of the parrotfish, as an adaptation to have ample biting surface to scrape off and chew on coral, their main food source.

A close-up of the beak of a parrotfish. It has this honeycomb pattern which I find very cool.

Well. To constantly chew on coral, they must have some pretty hard teeth, right? And they indeed do: the teeth of the parrotfish are made up of a mineral called fluorapatite, which forms intricate, chainmail-like woven structures on a microscopic level. Fluorapatite just so happens to be the second hardest biomineral found. This stuff, the parrotfish's teeth? A square inch of the parrotfish's teeth can withstand a whopping 530 TONS OF PRESSURE!!! That's the weight of 88 ELEPHANTS on top of a single square inch!!!! That's crazy, right!!?? The only biomineral that is tougher is the teeth of chitons, that is the single tougher biological thing in the whole world!!! Not only that, but the stiffness and hardness of the teeth increases the more we get closer to the tip (as the mineral fibers get closer and closer to one another), the very tips of the teeth even surpass the chiton teeth in stiffness!!!

Here are pictures produced through a process called PIC mapping, which shows the size and orientation of crystal fibers at the tip of the teeth.

That feels like it shouldn't be right, no? You'd think that the toughest biominerals in the world would belong to, like, the skull of an animal that rams into rocks or maybe the shell of some animal, not the teeth! The teeth of chitons and parrotfish out of all animals no less! Who would've guessed that the diet of "rock animal" would make the parrotfish require some of the toughest dentition the world has ever seen, huh? That right there is one super good reason why you should never stick your finger in the mouth of one.

Every day I am blown away by how amazing fishes are....

[yanderenightmare]

All For One

TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, captive reader, mind deterioration

fem reader

All For One has a habit of subjugating you for his own pleasure. 

It’s a game he likes to play—quite like chess, only… you start off with a single pawn, and you don’t know any of the rules. And he’s been world champion ten years in a row. And he plays dirty.

Tonight, he’s dressed you up in a costume. Not any old Halloween costume, but a slutty one. Not a playboy bunny or a maid, nor a schoolgirl—this was worse—a sleazy rendition of your old hero uniform.

You’d barely recognized the faintly familiar design when he first laid it out on the bed for you. Silly and naïve, you thought his games of derision would end when you finally offered your submission, but that was a fool’s thought. What fun were you if not proof of his undying victory—a reminder, a trophy, a relic?

It’s beyond degrading. Tight and revealing. Less than an actual costume, it was more something one would wear in the bedroom, cosplaying for some fantasy starring an overly sexualized you. Only God knows where he’d gotten it from.

Your steel armor, once with the dignity of a knight, had instead been swapped out for a silly silver bikini—the shimmery fabric tacky and cheap, allowing your nipples to peak forth. Covering it was a top and a skirt made up of silver chains, which only further mocked the appearance of chainmail—looking more like the jewelry a stripper might wear.

He’d forgone your helmet, boots, and sword entirely. Truly, if it weren’t for the detailing of the pattern making the fabric vaguely resemble plated armor, it wouldn’t have been much different from any other set of lingerie.

And still, it’s just similar enough to make it sting.

“Look at you...” he jeers, his voice sodden with taunt—carmine stare faded and gleeful, thoroughly enjoying it. “What a sight for sore eyes.”

He stands behind you in the mirror, holding you delicately by the hips, intimately close, dressed in another one of his black suits, fully clothed in devastating contrast to you. His smile curls as he roams your ill-covered body, kissed with the flush of chagrin, leering at you in the reflection—his voice slithering right by your ear.

“Though I can’t say I remember it being quite so revealing, can you?” he jokes, running his hands up and down your waist, fiddling some with the intricacies—metal daintily clinking and clangoring. “No, there’s something else that’s different...”

You feel so humiliated, so small—as if he could hold you up by the scruff of your neck with ease. It isn’t just a feeling—you’re well aware that he most likely could.

“Why yes, of course…” he hums with delayed realization—you know he’s faking for anticipation, chittering while wrapping his thick arms around your tiny midsection, giving you a firm squeeze. “You’ve lost all muscle.”

It’s a painful truth. You don’t know how many months it’s been. Perhaps a year has passed already, maybe even more. He keeps you well aware of his triumph in the outside world, but time still eludes you.

You’d tried maintaining it in the beginning, even after he’d taken your quirk. You’d been vigilant, keeping up your workout regimens just as religiously as before. But you couldn’t pick what you ate, nor when—and he’d only feed you cake. It wasn’t long before all your hard-earned muscles had melted away like popsicle syrup off the stick, licked and lapped right up by the man holding you.

“Mmh, yes…” he murmurs gratingly while swaying you back against him, lips pressing against your ear. “And it’s left you oh-so-soft.”

His bulbous crotch slots against your upper ass, resting there as it grows fatter and warm—a sign of his enjoyment. The weight of him makes you feel all but paper-thin.

His voice rasps now. “If I were to give you your quirk back, I wager you wouldn’t even be able to use it anymore—it would sooner rip your poor limbs apart.”

It’s beyond cruel to suggest—as if disgracing your old costume wasn’t enough torment already. You bite your lip, gnaw it harshly—don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t let him see you cry.

“Isn’t that just fascinating?” He gives your earlobe a gentle bite, and the whimper in your throat springs free like prey out of hiding.

A sniffle shortly followed—along the dribble of the night’s very first tears. Your diminished spirit has made you all too prone to cry as if there’s nothing else for you to do but indulge in the small comfort it gives.

“Oh, sweetie—don’t weep over prowess long since lost. It was never enough to challenge me anyway,” he coos, as if consoling you—swaying your smaller brittle body back against his looming chest, a cage that seemed to swallow you whole.

Steering your jaw, he holds your face still before the mirror, unable to look away as the tears dribble down your sorry cheeks—he smears them further with a kiss.

“The world would chew you up as you are now, fragile like glass.” The grin curling his lips makes you resemble prey caught on a predator’s teeth—you can’t help but shiver at the sight of it. You wish he wouldn’t toy with you like food and just kill you already. “Mark my words, hero—the belly of the beast would not grant you as much comfort as I do.”

His other hand slips down to cup your mound—firmly, with a squeeze that has you curl yourself back against him as he presses two tough fingerpads into your clothed clit, rubbing it tightly enough to make your thighs shake.

“You’re better off like this,” he grunts, snickers at how your weak hands clutch the sleeve of his suit, curling the fabric in your palms until your knuckles whiten—watching the furrow further crease between your cinched brows as you try and bite back your pathetic little sounds even as more tears come tumbling down your swollen cheeks. “Mh, my pretty plaything.”

He makes you continue to look at yourself as he simply slides the panty to the side of your cunt. Encouraging you to place your hands flat against the mirror as he bends you forward, then to step back and stand atop his dress shoes.

“Don’t be shy now,” he makes sure to tell you. “You’re as light and negligible as a feather.”

He parts his feet and yours along with them, spreading your thighs enough to accommodate the fat heat he soon slides between them. Rigid and veiny, it competes with the size of your forearm—so thick that when he slaps it up against your slit, your knees buckle from the impact.

His chuckles rumble across your body like an earthquake. You only realize how much it makes you shake when he encloses your hip in his big hand, steadying you. Holding you still as he drags his engorged cockhead through your lips, catching your clit before resting on your entrance.

You’re so sore from prior nights—countless hours locked in this room with his visits the only thing keeping you company—everything has yet to forgive you for the wreckage those visits leave behind. Your sorry little puss rues and dreads another defeat now as he sinks inside the comfort of your battered walls, one unyielding inch at a time. 

You wince and tense, shoulders bracing, and yet he pushes deeper, sliding you down his shaft until you rest at the hilt of his base, kneading the tip into your gummy womb, giving it a deep kiss that bulges out from your poor belly.

The sight in the mirror is morbid, even more so than the feeling—the way he molds your insides to fit him, to cater and house his length and size. 

“Ah—just perfect, isn’t it, hero?” he purrs, chest resting heavily upon your spine while dwarfing both your hips in a firm grip, chin-stubble scraping along your neck as his voice comes out hot against your ear, ��Obedience suits you so well, don’t you agree?”

Your knees buckle once he starts the heavy pace—slowly pounding into you from behind, dragging out and pushing deep in womb-robbing thrusts. You pant from the toll of it, feeling your muscles give—too tired and too broken to continue acting tough. He’s the only reason you’re left upright on your feet—keeping you standing with just his hold on your haunches. It seems like nothing to him, though it feels like the weight of the world to you.

“It’s only a shame it had to come with all these scars.” He clicks his tongue, eyes raking across your body as it takes him, resting on each mark disrupting the otherwise milk-smooth skin. “If only you’d accepted your place sooner.”

The ember burning within you is all but a piece of cooling charcoal now. You feel it diminish every day, leaving you even thinner than before.

“But then again, I quite enjoy you like this—littered with my battle scars from your toes up to your crown. It’s rather intimate, isn’t it?” he hums with a smile. “Proof of all the times I could’ve quashed you beneath my foot like a pitiful bug but decided to spare you. Teach you how to worship like the weak ought to.”

There was a time when you still humored the thought of killing him, even with your quirk taken from you. You thought, in your foolishness, that being this close to him must garner an opportunity, any, however slim, just enough for you to take advantage and finish what you vowed to end so long ago.

Now, you almost don’t care anymore. The world had moved on without you, and there was nothing more you could do about it.

You realize your promise had been as cheap as this outfit.

“The greater the fall, the sweeter the surrender, isn’t that right?” he states. “Doesn’t it feel good to finally accept your place in the world, hero?”

You can only nod your head and agree.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[polychromaic]

🌸 when the Hindriarch banished Eskhind and her kin from Bey Lah, Neelahind would follow her heart into voluntary exile. To abandon a surefooted life, as well as a coveted spot among the Fellowship, is nearly unheard of among both hindren and Wardens, but Neelahind was glowing when she took her leave. I hear the pair are quite happy together, practicing arconautics in the ruins to the west—at least, that's what the kendren bring news of when they come back to trade.

back at it again w more caves of qud deer gals 😏✨ i'm kind of enamored with the ending to the Bey Lah quest where Esk and Neela both take off, so i wanted to see what they'd look like as a matched set of lesbian pariah-arconauts. geez, i can’t believe it’s been almost two years since i drew them last

image descriptions under break!

img desc: A drawing of a hindren deerfolk girl from "Caves of Qud". On the left a title card reads "Pariah Neelahind (she/her)". Some of the details are labeled. Her fur is a rich cedar red, with a lighter heartwood underbelly curling under her arms and on the inside of her legs down to her hooves; her curly hair is dark mahogany, tied back in a ponytail with a sky-blue bandana; her antlers are a pale heartswood, deepening to a rich velvet at the tines. She’s smiling, looking up and off to her right; she's poised upright, her arms spread to either side of her as she grips the haft of her war-scythe Yal, which is laying across her shoulders. She’s wearing shining steel platemail—a breastplate over a nanoweave surcoat patterned with pale lemon slices over pink (called "Pink Lemonade"); her armor is incomplete, but well taken care of. She’s wearing leather braces, a steel gauntlet on her left hand only, and a woven blue sash and bedroll across her back.

img desc: A drawing of a hindren deerfolk girl from "Caves of Qud". On the right a title card reads "Pariah Eskhind (she/it)". Some of the details are labeled. Her fur is ashen, with her pale undercoat spotting through on her forearms and flanks. Her messy hair is a greenish bleach-blonde, and one of her ears has a hole in it; her antlers are pale and their velvet is darker grey, and they're covered in little tied-on charms and brass tine hornaments. She has an eyepatch over her left eye, and a gap between her front teeth. She's grinning, slouching in a relaxed fashion, pulling back her hood with one hand and flashing a rock-on with the other; her front two legs are crossed, while the back two are spread like she's posing for a picture. She's wearing a well-worn chainmail hauberk, which extends down over her back; a ragged cowl, with buttoned slots along the hem of the hood for her antlers to fit through; a leather bracer on her left wrist, a steel pauldron on her right shoulder, a fingerless elastyne glove on her right hand, and two pairs of croccasins on her hooves. A pocketed saddle is slung over her back, along with a backpack and bedroll; on either side, the pockets are full of tools and bits. Tucked into her swordbelt is a sheathed folding carbide longsword and a gaslight kris; slung across her chest is a bolt-action rifle called "Peashooter" (it has a lesbian flag on its stock). Around her legs are several beaded bracelets and charms; one of them is the rightfully reclaimed Kindrish, complete with its carved deer charm.

[inbarfink]

Congratulations! You are now a Magic-User!!

[craftexchange]

resubmitting this because I’ve been having a really good time with the exchanges organized through this blog, and would like more

Offering: chainmail!

necklaces:

bracelets:

fidgets etc:

these are all examples of the kind of pieces I make, any of these patterns works. I can also do some small pieces as earrings/pendants/toggles/backpack charms. I have a pretty broad range of colors available, as well as a more limited range of scales.

ISO: I’m open to offers in general! Last time I did this I got a bunch of cool exchanges for things I never would have thought of, so not putting limitations on it (though leather would be a plus). In particular I like dragons, so anything with that theme would be a bonus! Alternately, pendants (on the larger side) that I could use as the centerpiece for a chainmail necklace.

Location: I’m in the US, willing to ship anywhere

[beansprean]

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

A commission from andieandiiandee(@TikTok) based on chapter 14 of “Hounds of Love” by @andiforyou!! ❤️

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Waist up of human Nandor dressed in a chainmail shirt with chest plating, a silver sword dangling from his left ear, a brown leather belt, and a brown leather baldric over his shoulder attached to a real sword at his hip. His hair is half up, twin braids from his temples forming a bun at the crown of his head and held in place by a leather clasp threaded with a stick. He is leaning against a doorframe, arms crossed, and staring offscreen with hooded eyes and a small smile, a pink heart floating by his face. 2. What Nandor is looking at. Waist up of Jeremy and Guillermo from the back as they chat idly, the vague idea of a coat rack in front of them. Jeremy is wearing long white robes. Guillermo, half turned toward Jeremy with a smile as they chat, is making motions to shrug off his puffy winter coat. 3. Extreme closeup of Nandor's eyes as they fly open in shock, cheeks flushing red. 4. Close up of Guillermo in profile, from the bridge of his nose to just below his chest, as he shrugs his coat off to reveal his bare shoulder and arm in a plain black tank top, a golden chain around his neck disappearing into the shirt. His right hand, wearing a leather glove, pulls out a piece of black fabric with a dotted white design. 5. Hips up of Guillermo from Nandor's POV on a glowing pink background, surrounded by golden sparkles, as he drops the coat completely and throws a poncho over his shoulders to complete his outfit. He is paused in motion, eyes downcast, pink mouth pursed, arms raised chest-high as the poncho flutters into place around his shoulders. It is black and translucent, decorated with a silver beadwork pattern of spiderwebs. The end of the poncho hits right at his waist line, edges scalloped like bat wings with silver pearls adorning each peak. Four short makeshift spider legs are sewn to the bottom of his tank top, two on each side. In the background are pink-tinted close ups in Nandorvision: the flex of Guillermo's bicep, the stretch of his fingers beneath the glove, and the roll of his back and stomach beneath the tight tank top as his arms stretch overhead. 6. A pink-tinted Nandorvision fantasy: full body of Nandor and Guillermo in their current outfits as Nandor grabs Guillermo at the waist and dips him, knee pressing forward between his legs and head dipped to mouth at his neck. Guillermo's arms are looped around Nandor's shoulders and he is smiling blissfully, hearts floating around his head, cheeks flushed as he tilts his head to allow Nandor access to his throat. His left leg hitches around Nandor's hip as Nandor's right hand creeps beneath the hem of his tank top. 7. Shoulders up of the real Nandor, staring slackjawed at the visions before him, cheeks flushed red and eyes wide, irises gone pink to reflect where his mind is at. 8. Small corner panel of Nandor, chest up and casting a shadow on a sparkly pink background as he comes back down to earth. He blushes, flustered, and closes his eyes with resignation, thinking to himself: "I'm going to be beating suitors away with a stick..." /end ID