#gorgeous colours and patterns are happening here

[ratatatastic]

happy pantr hockey is so back to all who was awaiting it!!!!

nashville predators @ florida panthers doubleheader game 1 | 9.22.24 (x)

[rioromanoffroses]

"Isn't she gorgeous?"

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Requested

Warnings: 18+ content, breast sucking, fingering (R receiving), orgasm denial, strap-on use (R receiving), cock-sucking, vaginal sex, degrading, praising, profanity

Summary: Your husband, Steve Rogers, has been romantically and sexually starving you ever since he became an Avenger. After borrowing money from notorious crime leader, Natasha Romanoff, she breaks into your house to get what she's owed. However, when she finds you, his gorgeous wife innocently asleep next to him, you catch her interest and her plans change instantly.

Pairings: top dom!Natasha Romanoff x bottom sub!reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (nothing romantic or sexual happens)

Trigger Warnings: blood, gun wound, reference to implied SA (blink and you'll miss it).

“Y/n?” you nearly sent the plate in your hand flying to the floor, dropping it into the washing bowl before spinning around to see your husband in the doorway. You shook your head, sure that your eyes were deceiving you. He was never here even when he promised, never mind three weeks early. 

“Steve,” you said, drying your hands and rushing over to him but before you could pull him into a hug, he caught a hold of your shoulders to stop you. His touch sent a stab of pain into your chest and you were snapped back to reality, falling away from the lingers of a past moment you had momentarily forgotten wasn’t your present. You straightened your figure and took a step back, looking up at the man that had once been the light of your life, a guide in the darkness, someone special to share all the good with but now, he could’ve been a stranger.

You had been married for three years, together for five and the first few years would be the most treasured moments of your life. But ever since he had become an Avenger, it had consumed his sole purpose. 

Steve was always out fighting, carving his mark, making the world proud of his heroism while you stayed at home doing chores and completing mindless activities to pass the time. There was once a time where you could’ve sworn you saw Universes in his eyes. Now, his skin had been drained of colour and his eyes were rimmed with red as if he were a ghost that was forever cursed to haunt his loved ones. “What are you doing here?” you quizzed.

“I’m sorry," he said, bowing his head, “I’ve got into a bit of trouble, I wanted to make sure you were safe.” You frowned. 

“What trouble?” you questioned, “is there a villain after you? Can’t the Avengers help you?” You didn’t even bother hiding the bitterness in my voice. They were clearly everything he ever needed, what use were you to him? He sighed.

“Not exactly,” he said, “we should probably sit down.” You followed him into the dining room with caution in your steps, not taking your eyes off him. The walls were a fading, off-white, elaborate flowers twisted between leaves and detailed patterns, wooden panelling running along across the bottom. The light fixture in the centre was brass with three upturned light bulbs, the dining tables and chairs a polished rosewood. Steve had wanted the room like this because it reminded him of his Grandmother. It was awkward to clean and there was always a build of dust in here. You took a seat opposite him.

“What’s going on?” you said. He scratched the back of his neck.

“I know what you���re going to think but… alright I’ll just tell you. I took out a loan from someone a bit dodgy and I haven’t quite paid them back.” You raised an eyebrow.

“What’s ‘haven’t quite’ supposed to mean?” you said, raising your voice. 

“I haven’t paid them back, okay?” he exclaimed, “look, all I wanted to do was buy you a new house, I wanted to make you happy since you hate this one so much. I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to spoil my girl.” Generosity – the easiest attainable remedy for guilt.

“Well, I see something wrong with borrowing money you can’t pay back, especially from somebody that can put you and other people in danger,” you said, pushing yourself onto your feet, “what were you thinking Steve?” He slammed his fists onto the table and you jumped, your heart thumping against your ribcage.

“Listen, I thought I would have the money by now. It’s not my fault I can’t see into the future, you know I wouldn’t have even thought about it if I knew.” You closed your eyes, exhaling a long breath, trying to keep your composure. There were a hundred things you wanted to say to him right now but it wasn’t worth it. You either lived in peace or chaos; either way, nothing changed. 

“I thought I knew a lot of things about you but they turned out to all be wrong,” you said, “so I don’t know anymore. Nothing you do surprises me.” You stormed back into the kitchen, not wanting him to waste anymore of your time. You had dishes to do and by now, the water would’ve gone cold. 

“Y/n, come on. You haven’t seen me in three months and this is how you’re going to treat me?”

“I have dishes to do,” you said, picking up the plate you had dropped before, polishing it until it shone in the dim light peeking through the curtains, “someone has to keep the house clean.” And clearly, it wasn’t going to him. You felt a firm hand on my shoulder and all the muscles in your body tensed.

“I know you’re mad at me.” You scoffed. Mad wasn’t the right word – it was an array of messy emotions tangled together that had been fraying for years. There was more than just anger here, that was just an old friend that had withered and grown back into something much more cruel now. “Just please… let me make it up to you. I could die on a mission one day you know, you never know when one of these moments could be our last.” He had tried guilt tripping you before – it was a simple yet effective way of shifting blame onto the other person to ease your conscience. These games were getting so predictable. 

“And I’d be the last one to know,” you said, “maybe if I was lucky, I’d see it on the news.” You placed the last plate on the drying rack, emptying the washing-up bowl before walking away to leave him standing in the kitchen, alone. 

..........................................................................

You had avoided Steve as if he were the plague for the rest of the evening, only tolerating him in the same room as you when you went to give him his dinner. If you were nothing but his little housewife, you may as well play the part and poke it in his face. While you were getting ready for bed, you had paused by his chest of drawers, remembering the divorce papers you had hidden beneath the shirts he had outgrown or didn’t like anymore. Most of them had been bought by you and you could recall a memory with your husband in every single one. Maybe another day.

You couldn’t sleep but you kept your eyes tight shut when you heard him enter and move around the bedroom. Why didn’t you just sleep in the living room?, you thought as he slipped under the covers beside you. You figured he’d probably leave before you were awake so in his mind, you wouldn't even know. Dickhead. You didn’t know how much time had passed but you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you see is blinding white.

“Steve, turn the lights off…” You let out a scream when a gunshot sounded through the room, colliding with your husband’s cry of pain. Your eyes flew open and immediately fell on the figure standing at the end of your bed, her ravishing, blood-soaked hair curled onto her shoulder, her eyes glittering with shattered pieces of jade. Your heart seemed to freeze in your chest. Natasha Romanoff – the most notorious leader of crime in the world. And she was here, in your bedroom. 

You turned to Steve and let out a strangled sob, the sight of scarlet soaking into the bed sheets making you dizzy. You heard the click of heels behind you and Natasha took a fistful of your nightgown before you could even process what was happening, pulling you away from him as if you were a mere feather. You screamed again and if it wasn’t for her strong grip on you, you would’ve collapsed to the ground.

She waited until you were steady enough to stand on your own two feet, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against her body. She was wearing a dress that emphasised all her curves and showcased most of her skin, your body flooding with dread. This woman was able to shoot Captain America without any protective clothing like it was nothing. There was no way out of this situation. We were doomed. I felt something hard in her crotch area, confused as to why she was carrying such a bulky item in her pockets.

“Leave her alone,” Steve whispered, his voice faint and overshadowed by anguish. 

“Get on the floor and don’t say another word unless I ask you a question or she’ll have to watch you die,” she snapped, “neither of us want that to happen, do we?” With resentment, he hobbled away from the bed, stumbling over to the wall and sliding himself down it, his hand clutched to the gun wound in his stomach. “Good.” She ran a finger down your cheek before beginning to trace your features, her head tilted to the side. “You didn’t tell anyone you had a wife, Rogers. Isn’t she gorgeous?” You shivered in her hold, her voice low and seductive. “What’s your name, pretty?”

“Y-Y/n,” you trembled, wishing you could strangle the butterflies in your stomach that her touch had provoked. This was insanity – she had just shot your husband and she was threatening to murder him yet she was making you nervous, in a romantic way. God, if only Natasha wasn’t so beautiful, this would be a whole lot easier. 

“Y/n Rogers?” she said, giving you a fake pout, “that doesn’t sound very nice, does it? Y/n Romanoff has a much nicer ring to it.” A crease formed between your eyebrows. What the hell was she implying? “Rogers, I’m willing to strike up a deal with you. But first, I’m going to fuck your wife until the only name she’ll remember is mine.” His eyes widened in horror and you let out a cry. 

“Natasha, that’s assault. You can’t,” Steve said. She smirked.

“Oh there won’t be any need for that,” she said, “it won’t take much for her to beg me for more.” She pushed you down onto the bed and straddled your lap, a pool of wetness already forming between your legs. This was so fucked up. “Give me consent and I’ll make you feel so good baby, better than you’ve ever felt. All you have to do is say the word.” 

You considered all your options but it didn’t take you long to decide since you only had two. You either let Natasha fuck you or you watched Steve die. You could treat it like a one night stand, you thought. You had never experienced one yourself but you’d read it in books so surely you would be able to do it.

Though you knew deep down, part of you wanted this. You were desperately touch starved and the thought of Natasha fucking you made you groan, heat rushing to your cheeks as the sound escape your mouth. You nodded and she gripped your jaw.

“Words bitch.”

“Yes,” you said, looking away from her in shame but she forced you to look back at her.

“Good girl,” Natasha said, lowering herself onto you and colliding her lips with yours, setting all your nerves alight. Her lips felt like velvet against your own, melting against you and setting a slow pace, letting you get used to the sensation. You couldn’t remember the last time Steve had kissed you, never mind like this. 

When your hand moved to her chest, she knew she’d won and she began kissing you with more passion, her teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You gasped and she took the opportunity to slip her tongue between the gap in your teeth. You didn’t even bother fighting against her, wanting Natasha to take full control and use you however she pleased. 

She separated your lips and began kissing your neck, her teeth ruthless against your skin as she began to mark you, leaving a trail of garnet blotches that would be seen by everyone. “Tell him how much you like this.” As much as you wished it wasn’t true, you were very much enjoying this. It was a terrible thing to admit to your husband but you had to remind yourself that his life was at stake here.

“I love it, I love being marked by you,” you said, “please don’t stop.” She pulled away when she reached your chest, reaching down and taking hold of your nightgown. 

“Can I take this off angel?”

“Please,” you said, ignoring that Steve was in the same room as you. You wanted this, you needed this, you hadn’t had sex in so long. Too long. She lifted herself off your waist for a few moments so she could discard you of your nightgown before continuing her path down your chest, stopping right before she reached your breasts. 

“So beautiful,” Natasha said before taking one of your nipples between her fingers and rolling it, earning her your loudest groan yet. She began to fondle the other roughly and the pain was soon replaced with pleasure that went straight in between your legs. You were a moaning mess beneath her, your forehead glistening with sweat and your breaths loud and sharp. “Listen to that, Rogers. Does she make these sweet, sweet noises for you? Do you Y/n? Tell me.”

“No,” I said, “only for you.” She tutted.

“Oh sweetheart, he doesn’t deserve you,” she said, “it’s okay, I’m going to take care of you now.” She ran her hands down your stomach and attached her mouth to your hardened nipple, your mind unable to decide what to concentrate on. She slipped her fingers beneath your panties and began snapping it against your skin, causing you to start bucking your hips into her. 

“I need you,” you said. You expected her to make you wait but her expression softened as she began sliding your panties down your legs, throwing them in Steve’s direction. “Look how she ruined them for me. If you weren’t so neglectful, this could’ve been you, Rogers. Don’t you ever forget that.” You gasped as the palm of her hand pressed against your cunt, brushing against your swollen clint. “So wet.”

“Natasha, please…”

“Beg,” she said, running her fingers through your folds and collecting your arousal, “let him hear you.”

“Please Natasha,” you said, “I need you to fuck me so bad. I need you inside of me, please make me cum.” Your words made her groan and you whimpered as you felt her push two fingers inside of you, giving you only a few seconds to adjust before she began thrusting in and out of you at a quickened pace. You felt a burning sting, grabbing her wrist to try and slow her down. “Nat, it’s too much, it hurts.” 

“What do you mean sweetie? Does he have a small cock?” There was a cruel glint in her eye when the realisation dawned on her. “He hasn’t fucked you in a longtime has he? How long has it been?” You were struggling to form coherent sentences at this point.

“Six months,” you admitted. He visited so little and he was always exhausted when he did, hardly even giving you any affection, never mind fulfilling your physical needs. You had shamefully been trying to fuck yourself for over a year now but you were either too embarrassed to keep at it for long or you were eventually forced to give up, too inexperienced to make yourself cum. You had never used more than one finger so you weren’t used to the stretch at all.

“You’re telling me your husband had access to this cunt anytime he wanted but he chose not to fuck you for half a year?” What a waste of such a perfect pussy,” she said, “shh, it’s okay, it’ll feel so good in a minute.” As if to prove her point, porn-worthy moans began to spill from your mouth as you were drowned in overwhelming bliss. She knew she had found that one spot inside of you when your noises became more intense and more wetness gushed from your entrance, the squelches of your arousal echoing around the room. You took fistfuls of the duvet beneath you in your hands, your walls began to clench around her fingers. But just before you reached your high, Natasha slipped her fingers out of you.

“No,” you cried, “I was so close.” She placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Not just yet,” she said, “I want you to cum on my cock.” You blinked up at her in confusion, not understanding what she meant. Was she perhaps intersex? “Get on your knees.” You scrambled to obey her command, your thighs glistening with white and she smirked. “Such an obedient thing. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” You did so without hesitation and she lifted up her dress and threw it on the floor, leaving her in a lacey bra and boxers. Your eyes fell onto her breasts that were full and sat perfectly, wondering how they’d feel in your hands and in your mouth. You were too distracted to pay attention to Natasha pulling down her boxers until a large, red strapon sprung into your face.

You were sheltered and didn’t have many friends so your knowledge on how two women had sex was low. You had accidentally come across some brief information about strapons while scrolling through social media, closing the app immediately and uninstalling it. You had never told anyone you liked women so any mentions of the topic made you panic and run in the opposite direction. Natasha noticed your hesitation.

“It’s just like sucking a cock,” she said, “you’ve done that, right?” You shook your head. Steve  was a very traditional man so you’d never done anything outside of the very basics. You had always wanted to explore more interesting options but you were too ashamed to ask or discuss any of your preferences with him. “God, so vanilla. Once I show you what you’ve been missing you’ll never want to go back. Do you want to try симпатичный (pretty)?” Her Russian Nickname for you sent a lustful thrum through your body despite the words being foreign and unknown to you. You knew there was only one correct answer to her question but you liked being able to show Natasha how much you desired to follow her orders.

“I’d love to try,” you said, “anything to please you.”

“Good girl,” she husked, nudging your mouth with the strap-on. Her other hand dug into your shoulder as she pushed it inside of your gaping mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Natasha kept going even when you started choking, tears slipping from your eyes and smearing your makeup. The sight of you, a perfect housewife she had ruined and made a mess of, only made her thrust the toy into your mouth faster, desperately turned on. When she was satisfied that you’d wet it enough, she pulled out, showing enough mercy to let you catch your breath. “You’re already such a good cock-sucker.” She ran her thumb over your plump lips. “Aren’t you glad I put these lips to good use, hmm?”

“Yes,” you gasped, “thank you Natasha.” She placed a kiss on your forehead.

“So polite. Get on all fours and look at your husband.” You hesitated a little this time, suddenly remembering Steve’s presence. You turned around and followed her commands, your gaze meeting with his. Steve’s pupils were drowned in pain and clouded his emotions so you couldn’t identify them, blood still gushing from his gun wound. 

“Natasha, I think he’s going to die,” I said, “his stomach…” She looked over and saw that he was on the verge of passing out, his blood loss now critical. 

“I fear you’re right,” she said, “I thought we’d have more time with him, shame. Don’t worry милый (darling), he’ll be alright soon.” You heard footsteps thundering up the stairs before the door was flung open and several men dressed head to toe in black burst into the bedroom. You wondered how she had summoned them so quickly but you were too horny to dwell on the thought for long. 

You tried to cover your exposed body, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden but Natasha slapped your hands away. “They won’t look my angel, they wouldn’t even dare. Don’t let them distract you.” You felt something prodding your entrance and you whimpered.

“Please,” you breathed as she circled your entrance with the toy, collecting your arousal. 

“You’re somehow even wetter,” she cooed, “did you really love your face being fucked that much?” Before you could answer she began to push the tip inside, your soaked walls showing no resistance. She didn’t give you anytime to get used to the stretch, pulling out before slamming back into you seconds later. The pain only lasted a few moments before it dissolved into pure pleasure as Natasha pounded into you like a wild animal. You arched your bark, the dirtiest sounds you had ever produced spilling from your mouth and echoing through the room. You somehow managed to lift an arm and point it towards Steve’s shirt drawer.  

“There’s divorce paper,” you strung together between gasps, “in that drawer. I already signed them.” The men followed your finger and moved towards them, aimlessly throwing Steve’s shirts onto the floor. You saw a pang of hurt in Steve’s expression but you didn’t care. He should’ve seen this coming and even if he didn’t, it was his fault anyway.

As the divorce papers and Steve were dragged away, you moved your hips in rhythm with Natasha’s to try and get the strap-on deeper into you, every brush against your walls sending electricity through your body. She gripped your hips, encouraging your movements, grunting each time you slammed back against her. Your groans changed when she found your g-spot again and after that, she made sure to keep hitting it, a knot beginning to tighten in your stomach for the second time that night.

“I need to cum,” you said, “can I this time, please?”

“Such a slut,” she said, “soak my dick baby. Go on.” You screamed her name as you released all over her cock, stars blinding your eyes as your body shook with bliss, each new wave stronger than the last. After the longest orgasm of your life, you finally finished cumming, liquid staining your thighs. But Natasha didn’t stop, moving her hands up to your ass and massaging your cheeks. 

“Natasha, I’ve already cummed,” you said, expecting her to finally pull out but instead, she tutted.

“We’re not finished yet,” she said, “If I wanted to, I could have you cumming all over this cock all night. We’re done when I say we are. You are all mine after all, gorgeous.” After the initial discomfort faded away, you were soaring back up to cloud nine, ready to do whatever Natasha wanted.

“Of course,” you said, “I’m all yours now.”

[megistusdiary]

hello, this is the anon who sent the smoking w 2000s arle ask. I'm back with more brainrot

so, I've been thinking ab being her roommate.

the first time you saw her you kind of went into shock; how on earth did you end up living with someone like *her*??? she's tall, baggy black clothes draping on her slim, toned body only giving a hint of what lies beneath. you'd love to stare for hours, but her bright ruby eyes boring into your soul stop any hopes of that happening. the almost-scowl on her sculpted features is a little scary, but you didn't mind, quite the opposite in fact.

despite the instant butterflies she gave you, you never worked up the courage to properly speak with her. you of course shared greetings in the morning from time to time, agreed on cleaning and groceries when necessary, but it never got much further than that.

part of the reason for that, was the seemingly unending amount of girls she would bring home. you know you should be upset, but honestly, you just wish it was you. it's obvious she knows what she's doing, just from the sounds you hear through the thin walls, you so desperately wish you just had one chance with her, but your rational mind is well aware she's far out of your league.

that's what you think anyway. you don't realise it, but there's a pattern in the women arlecchino brings home: they all look rather like you. same hair type and colour, same wide eyes, and the same gorgeous smile.

she closes her eyes and she sees your face, hears your voice. she's absolutely whipped for you, and to be honest, she doesn't know what to do with all of these new feelings and sensations you give her.

she may seem frosty and aloof when you look at her, but when it comes to feelings, she crumbles. she knows you like her. she's seen the looks you give her when you think she isn't looking. thing is though, she's completely and utterly terrified of the way you make her feel. she's never been in a relationship before, and of course, she does the only logical thing: push those feelings down as far as she humanly can.

the two of you keep on like this for a few months, neither of you brave enough to change this precarious balance of a routine you seem to have built.

this state of limbo does eventually see an end though.

you're something of a recluse, often opting to spend your nights at home, busying yourself with your studies. one night however, you don't really have that as an option. you owe a favour to a friend, and she's decided to take the opportunity to have you come out to a campus party with her. she declares that you "need to have fun and get out more", and encourages you to "get laid". you don't know if you're interested in anyone but your gorgeous roommate, not enough to make the effort to hook up anyway.

you dress yourself up nicely regardless. it's true you don't get out much, so you figure you might as well doll yourself up for once. while the stares you feel once you arrive are certainly expected, you can't say you're a fan of the attention. you need a drink

a cup or two of something fruity, and you're feeling a bit better, tipsy enough to be a little giggly and bold, but not enough to do anything you'll regret tomorrow.

you sit in a corner, watching the action for a while. you aren't quite enjoying yourself, but the night hasn't been so bad thus far. everything flips on its head, however, when you see *her*. what is arlecchino doing here? it's no surprise considering how often she has nights out, but a part of you was hoping that you wouldn't run into her. you really weren't interested in seeing her charm another girl into bed.

the hole in your stomach only expands further when she walks over to you and sits herself next to you. she's blushed a little pink: she's had a little to drink too.

when you meet her eyes, the looks she gives you is something you've never seen from her, you don't think. her gemstone eyes meet yours, and they glint in a way that's alluring in a way you just can't look away from.

the two of you begin chatting, not really about much. it feels a lot easier when you've got a little drink in your system, though.

her eyes flit down to your lips a few times, maybe, you don't want to get too excited. the way she jokes with you could almost feel flirtatious, but you again, you don't want to raise your hopes too high. she moves closer and closer to you, until, all of a sudden, her dangerous eyes meet yours, dangerously close to meeting your lips with hers.

"baby, can I kiss you? I've haven't been able to take my eyes off you all night."

you barely have to breathe out a "yes" before her lips are on yours, and her calloused hands are on your sensitive hips.

she leads you up to a bathroom upstairs, and fuck, her fingers are like magic. you never thought a woman could take you that high with just her hands.

tomorrow it's going to be awkward as anything, but right now, with her lips on your neck and her hands scratching your thighs, you really couldn't care less.

oughhh ohhh thank you anon i love womanizer!arle

i'll be thinking about this today...

and, consider, the aftermath isn't so bad. you both get home, somehow, and she's put you in your bed, nice and snugly. she took your makeup off for you and fixed your hair, even if she was a little drunk.

i bet if you two confess, she's more than happy to take you out on a date. but she wants to do it right. she wants it to be perfect because she doesn't just want you to share her bed, she wants your heart 🤭

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt I the wedding dress: an actual update

For the uninitiated, my current hyperfixation (one of them) is designing a wedding dress for Crowley because I heard the song Book of Love by Peter Gabriel from their Heavenly Playlist. Here's how far I've got with the concept:

Okay, where do I start? There's so much happening and I've only got as far as the shirt, cufflinks and jacket. Let's go with the overview/jacket:

[Disclaimer: I'm a design student, but not in fashion design. I don't really know what I'm doing, but I'm having fun, and I hope that's what matters]

JACKET: So the first photo above was the jacket idea I had when I first decided to start this, because the season 1 waiter blazer suits Crowley, from the cropped nature to the sharp notched lapels (if you're not sure what that is, like I was at first, it's not very clear in the white but you see that lightning bolt style collar in my sketch? that's the notched lapels).

But it met too high on the chest (notice where it cuts the tie) to be soft enough for a wedding dress, so I made the two halves meet lower down in the sketch. I also made it single-breasted (which basically means a coat or blazer that has a single row of buttons, in this case, just one button).

I haven't worked out more about the jacket, oh and also if someone could tell me the material of the original costume that would be very cool. I'll probably spend an unreasonable amount of time designing the button, too. As for colour, it would be black with a garnet or currant red lining.

OVERVIEW: So like the sketch shows, there's a shirt, that's held in place by a corset over it, and the jacket covers both. The corset would probably be under bust and back-laced for more support, with hints of scarlet on snakeskin leather? I'm not entirely sure, I need to research corsets.

The cummerbund (oops misspelt it in the sketch) is a broad waist sash, you can see it in the waiter costume, too. In the wedding dress, it would overlap the shirt slightly under the corset, and I was thinking of black satin with embroidery of stars/constellations.

I was originally going to draw star charts of a significant month for them (maybe April, because that's when nightingales, which are migratory birds, usually return to England for mating season to sing). Perhaps star charts as visible from Earth versus Alpha Centauri? But that could get complicated and on the bafta livestream chat someone sent coats that have Zodiac patterns on them in gold, so I'm debating that too.

Besides, there'll already be a nightingale pin on the lapel, gold with a sapphire eye for Aziraphale.

The lower part of the wedding dress involves a train and trousers and split skirt, we won't go into that. I think this post already got too long so I'll make another one for the shirt and the cufflinks :")

Have a lovely day my maggots you're amazing and I love you. Look at you, you're gorgeous.

[random-vore-blog]

May I ask for more sanegiyuu vore? It's so cuteee 😭😭

Of course! I am just gonna use an au I have cooked up. Plus, this gives you an idea of what happened to Giyu :3

Harpy's Lake Gem

The moon was up, its rays casting over the forest where mythical creatures resided in, illuminaring the landscape with its its gentle touch. The forest that held mysteries no human could solve, a puzzle too difficult for the human mind to complete. A foreign, but also familiar space for many who travel across the land to find the place.

Those who entered never came back. Many went missing upon entering the forest, many remains left out by the borders- a warning to any who dare to try to enter the forest without permission. Be it an arm or any other limb or a corpse, it didn't matter. It was still a warning.

But deep in the forest, a lake stood proud in the open in the heart of the forest. Its surface shone like gems, the water calm and at peace. The moonlight caressed the precious surface with care and a gentleness no one knew about. But as gorgeous as it looks from above and on land, there was a sinister aura that lurked beneath the surface- hidden from anyone by the facade of the innocent surface of the water.

The most deaths of humans occured here, in the heart of the forest, where no one would ever find the remains- gone and nowhere to be seen or to find their way out of this place. The lake was a trap- a deathtrap that had worked succesfully for the creature that resided in the lake it called home. It lured the next victims by just its voice alone, a song that no one could resist and follow.

A seastack on the far side, close to shore, sat comfortably with the water gently lapping at it. Ontop sat the cause of all the missing people that dared to enter the forest, right into its webbed hands.

A Siren.

Mythical creatures with the lower half of a fish and the upper half of a man, beings sailors told tales of- with a taste and appitite for human flesh, an appitite no human could understand. Its beauty hid away the sinister side deep beneath the surface. The beauty of the creature used to trick mankind, a facade to disguise their true intentions from mankind- violent beasts that drowned man for its own pleasures and needs. Sometimes feasting on the corpses of the victims it drowned.

The siren on the seastack had a beautiful tail as blue as sapphire stones with white diamond-shaped dots on the sides, the fins a transluscent baby blue colour, hair as black as a raven's with hints of almost invisble blue hues under the moon, dark blue eyes that pulled many in their gaze, fins acting like ears the same colour as the tail, the fingers a light blue colour that spread up to the elbow, claws a beautiful dark blue and webbing white, the upper torso covered in robes of red with a checkered pattern consisting of green and yellow.

The scales reflected the moonlight that caressed them, giving off a faint glow from the tail. It made the creature not only look majestic but also gorgeous and etheral, a beauty no one could take their eyes off of. A mask crafted over thousands of years to perfect the beauty.

The gentle sound of a song escaped its throat, sounding masculine in comparison to most feminine songs sung by the normal female sirens. Thus being identified as a male siren, a rare sight to behold as thete are few left in the world.

The fins on his head twitched as he heard something, another creature that he was all too familiar with. Someone the siren knew and had been friends with im the past, despite their historical rivalry, the wars both of these two mythical creatures had for thousands and thousands of years.

The siren turned his head slightly to look behind him, seeing all-too-familiar bird talons clutching onto the hard ricky surface, latched onto the stone to ensure that they don't let the creature slip off. He looked up, seeing a familiar face he had grown used to.

White hair that illuminated silver when light caressed the strands, purple eyes that glared daggers at him, scars on the face and lips formed into a frown. Dark green armour covered the chest, a black shirt underneath, a cloth of sorts hanging from the sides and tied to its waist, dark green pants that stopped right above the knee where the bird feet began to form. Black wings with white feathers at the edges, the tail matching the colour scheme of the wings. Green streaks right by the cheeks, feathers placed on either side where human ears would be acted as the ears.

" Shinazugawa-san."

" Tomioka."

The voice of the creature was a lot deeper and rough, as if it ate sand for breakfast instead of its preferred food. The hint of venom in the tone gave the siren, dubbed as Tomioka, an insight to what the creature wanted.

It wanted him for something, and that something he was unsure of. He couldn't place a clawed finger on what the winged creature wanted. And that creature was an expert at aerial hunting.

A Harpy.

Winged beasts with the lower half of a bird while the upper half was a human, arms replaced by wings larger than a human's body. Maybe larger than two humans stacked on each other. They came in many shapes and sizes, but they took on the species of any predatory bird. Their excellent aerial control in the air was phenomenal and more executed than any bird, surprassing their bird of prey counterparts.

" Is there something you need?"

The siren asked softly, a curious glint evident in the blue orbs that watched the Harpy with caution. He was aware that he was a delicacy for these aerial predators, nothing but a meal to them. He had to tread carefully if he didn't want to become Harpy food. However, he was unsure if the Harpy viewed him as a food source, seeing as he- identified by the masculine voice- never laid a talon on him.

" Does Kagaya-san need us in his presence?"

" No,"

The Harpy lowered his upper torso, bending it to be on eye level with the aquatic being.

" he does not need us in his presence."

Tomioka made a small frown, eyes squinted in confusion at the words that left Shinazugawa's- as Tomioka called him- mouth. The confusion did not leave his features, not until a talon pinned him against the rock, on his back. His back arched from the sudden contact of the cold surface, eyes widened as they stared at the purple ones that glared at him.

" It is you."

" What are-"

" It's your late night swimming that irritates me."

" Shinazu-"

" NO! Every time I patrol, I always see you swimming late at night!"

His jaws clenched in anger, body shaking with rage.

" And tonight is NO different! You think I don't notice the smallest of hints that you have insomnia?! Or the details like the dark circles under your eyes known as eyebags?!"

He growled, snarling at the being under his taloned foot, wings opened slightly to prove his point, to imply what he meant by his words. Tomioka just stared at him in disbelief, as if the Harpy had said that he had commited a crime...

" Don't try to hide it! I can see it from a mile away! Even Iguro can smell it from a mile away!"

" Sh-"

" No-! I am DONE watching you swim late at night when Iguro and I are on patrol!"

The pressure on the Siren's chest increased, before he was lifted up, off of the cold floor as his tail laid limp on the ground beneath. He had never seen the Harpy this irritated before, let alone concerned for his wellbeing. A warmth blossomed in his chest at the thought of someone caring for him.

" And I am going to do something about it."

He said dangerously low, above a whisper and his voice dripped with anger. Not only that, but the talons brought his face closer to Shinaguzawa's.

Before he could say anything, the lips in front of him parted, reavealing a cavern of flesh. Strands of saliva clung on the roof an anywhere it could cling onto, a tongue slipped out to give him a taste. He didn't react to it, however, as his attention was drawn to the pearly white teeth that were sharp and could snap him in half, crush bone. He was in a state of shock, not able to tell his body to move as it failed to co-operate with him.

It closed in front of him, and he stared at Shinazugawa wide-eyed.

" You taste better than I expected."

The Harpy murmured, tilting his head to the side, squinting his eyes in glee, something the Siren never saw.

Before long, the Harpy tilted his head straight and licked his lips. He- he wasn't going to- right? Tomioka felt a wave of panic hit him like a ton of bricks, a slap across the face full force.

The maw opened again and this time, his head was placed inside. He wanted to struggle, to scream and cry out for help, but his body refused, still in shock and trying to process what was going on.

It was warm, very warm. The humid air inside messed with his gills, threatening him to gasp for air a lot nicer than the dry air he was forced to inhale-! But he didn't, he couldn't. His body didn't belong to him as he was swallowed, body sliding down the now tight tube with ease like he was nothing. As if he was a small fish that slid down the throat of a crocodile... His skin got irritated by the dry air, unable to handle the warmth the air inside the Harpy provided. It was unbearable, and quite itchy.

By the time he got his body to struggle, it was too late as his head slipped into a roomier organ, the rest of his body following soon after.

It was hot, humid and with a liquid that filled tbe organ, stopping the itching he felt on his skin and scales. He panicked, body jerking away at the sudden pressure on his back. His eyes wide as realization of where he was dawned on him. He was in Shinaguzawa's stomach, a place he feared the most.

" Shinazugawa-san! Let me out!"

He panicked, body about ready to hyperventilate as the shock wore off, adrenaline the new booster to help his body to hyperventilate. His body shook.

" Let me out! Please! I beg of you!"

He yelled, trembling as his eyes were blurred by the tears that formed, jerking as a sob left his form. He held his head with both webbed hands, covering his finned ears that flattened against his head and closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. The waterfall got out of the walls known as tear ducts.

" Please- please Sanemi! Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease-"

He repeated, unable to do anything but beg Sanemi to let him go, to not let him die in this place other sirens had died.

<_>_<_>

He stared at his middle in shock, where his hand would've been if he had human arms rested on the slightly bulged area his "meal" was in, begging for his life to be spared, pleading.

Did- did he not realize that he... oh no-! Oh nomonononono! He didn't-

Panic enveloped his body when he was called by his first name. Did his insomnia affect him to the point of not thinking rationally? That him and Tomioka were a thing? This- oh god... The thought of digesting a living creature and his mate alone made him sick.

He rubbed his middle, trying to soothe and calm the the hyperventilating Siren down as best as he could while he hummed.

" Hey- hey-! It's okay! It's okay!"

He wanted to calm down his poor mate, tried to reassure him that he was not in any danger- that they have done this before with comforting words! But they didn't leave his throat after he spoke or tried to speak again. The words evaporated from the tip of his tongue.

All he could do was push thrpugh it all and just head back to his place located on a massive and broad seastack where a cave was.

He opened his wings and crouched down, jumping in the air and took off, heading back to his cave- his home. He couldn't use words to calm Tomioka down... he'll just hope that he realizes that he is safe-

His feathered ears twitched as he heard shaky breathes, the heartrate of the siren inside the organ slow and at a pace he was familiar with- that he grew fond of. He sighed in relief, in time to land gracefully on the edge of the cave.

His talons scraped against the stone beneath them as he entered, checking his surroundings to make sure that nothing was out of the ordinary. Besides Genya sleeping in the mest he built for him.

It was a long night, and restless one. He was tired, wanting to gain energy for what the next day wpuld bring. He stopped in his tracks and laid down like a bird, eyes closing as he focused on the weight in his crop. He'll rest his eyes for a few minutes... It wouldn't kill anyone if he rested a little, right?

And so, he dosed off, joining his brother and Giyu in dreamland where everything that had happened was nothing more than an old and bad memory.

The End

Sorry if this is not what you wanted, but I did enjoy writing it! It was a lot of fun to play with these two boys I ship so much!

[imaginedreamwrite]

Brat Taming: Part 11

Hues of red and orange, soft pinks had been drawn across the sky almost as if one of the great artists had taken a brush and cleared it against the sky. There was such warmth in the skyline, the iridescent colours that drew the day to a close and welcomed the night were breathtaking.

It was gorgeous, the sunset that had been cast upon the city, although the moment was made more perfect by the company you kept.

Steve hadn’t let you go since you’d taken his mark, his hands and his body had been upon you as if you truly had been made one unit. There was never a moment where you didn’t feel the heat of his body, the great depths of his affection and his instincts to protect, provide and love. It was borderline intense, in the most toe-curling way, to feel him and have him.

The sunset had ushered it in, the last night you were going to be in the city with Steve before you had to leave tomorrow. Steve was coming back with you for a few days, a temporary stay in Boston before he would head back to NYC and then beyond for the missions set out for him.

“Do you wish we could’ve done more?” Your eyes fluttered closed as he spoke, the rumble of his chest against your back was verbally pleasing to your ears almost like his voice was laced with honey.

A purr had slipped from your lips in place of a verbal answer, the sound in tune with the soft caress of Steve trailing his fingers up and your body, in no particular pattern, while you lay against him on the bed. The two of you had closed the final night out in his apartment with dinner, a classic movie he loved from the ‘40s before you had finally gone to bed.

Instead of sleeping, you found yourself launched headfirst into long conversations. Some had been deep and meaningful about your past and what had helped shape the people you had become, while others were far less deep and intimate. There was never a true lull, never a moment where it had been clear that there was nothing left to say, or any residual awkwardness.

If you were silent, you were enjoying the feeling of each other.

“No,” you finally and verbally gave him a response, only after you had dug deeper under the blankets in the nest, “I liked this. It felt…good.”

Your heat had spanned almost all the time you had in NYC, and the two of you were confined to Steve’s place more often than not. The few times you had gone out when your heat had dwindled enough to leave, or even when it was over and you were marked by Steve, you had stayed close.

You didn’t wander far, at most taking a walk around the block just to get some fresh air and take a break from the building. Your plans to meet the team, or at least a few, would have to wait for you although you had brought up the idea of bringing Jake here and showing him Stark Tower.

“He would love it, honestly he would have so much fun.” You had let it slip that it would be a good date idea after Steve had relayed his hesitation toward his courting dates with Jake.

Steve was a dom, through and through he was a dom, but this was still relatively new to him. Steve being able to be with Jake out in public on a date, without fear of backlash or verbal assault was new. He was comfortable with who he was, he was reassured that he wanted both you and Jake wholeheartedly.

However, Steve was born and raised in a time where being an alpha with two omegas, let alone a male and female, was a scandal. Not to mention what would have happened to Steve if the government or army, back then, had found out that he wasn’t as straight as they would have liked him to be.

Back in the 1940s’, anyone who was found to live an ‘alternative lifestyle, would’ve been heavily punished or jailed, and the consequences were even worse in other countries.

Even if Steve had wanted to be open about his bisexuality, they would have silenced him. They would not have allowed that part of him to be out in the open.

Now, when the world was so much more accepting and agreeable, Steve had been proud and open about his feelings.

Even if he was still a little hesitant, he was proud.

“We go home tomorrow.” You muttered, watching the colours of the sunset against the New York City skyline pressed tightly against his body. “It feels good to have a mark.”

“You and Jake bet which of you can have all three first,” Steve’s soft lips trailed along your neck, his teeth lightly nipping your skin, a growl building in his chest when you shuddered and airily whimpered his name, “my money is on you, doll.”

“Me too,” your voice was growing with exhaustion, your eyes fluttering when the heaviness of sleep started to draw you in, your body craving rest.

Steve had drawn the blanket further up the bed, tucking you both in. He had rested his hand against your stomach, fingers curling against Jake’s shirt that you packed with you. You felt the warm caress of his breath against the back of your neck as he sighed softly, mumbling his next greatest wish against your flesh.

He had stumbled forward, his feet caught in the legs of his jeans, barely catching himself from the fall with his free hand. A sense of panic had surged within his veins when he woke up and found the time on the clock mocking him, egregiously reminding him that he could have slept through your arrival home if you managed to catch an earlier flight.

It was a necessity for him to greet you when you got home, he had to be the first one to watch you walk through the door and he had almost missed it.

“Fuck!” Jake’s loud curse had been heard through the closed door, and a chuckle from the other side made him pause.

He hadn’t managed to push himself off the floor before the door had been cracked open and then his eyes were directed to the alpha who had heard the events. Jake felt his mouth going dry, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he sucked in Ari’s scent as drew himself closer.

Jake wasn’t able to look away, he couldn’t have possibly drawn his attention off of Ari’s bare chest and the ridges of his muscles that were draped and framed by a crisp white dress shirt.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” Ari helped lift Jake from the floor, setting him back on his feet. “Let me help you.”

Jake felt heat blistering his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, the touch of pink afflicting him was endearing to the alpha before him. And when Jake had cleared his throat, glancing away from the intense look in Ari’s eyes, he was greeted with another pulsing surge of his alphas scent.

“Steve said they’ll be here soon.” Ari hadn’t faltered from his task of yanking Jake’s jeans over his ass, his fingers nimbly pushing the button through the hole and then dealing with the zipper all while Jake had been squeaking and purring continuously. “Are you recovered enough?”

Jake had been made to look at Ari when the latter had cupped Jake’s chin. Ari drew Jake into a kiss, lips meeting lips and a soft whimper dying on Ari’s lips. Jake’s hands rest against his shoulders, his fingers clenching against the shirt that remained open.

There hadn’t been any kind of urgency in the kiss, in the exchange of affectionate passion until Jake heard the faint sound of a car door closing from the cracked window, the sound immediately drawing him away from Ari.

“Bear!” Jake yelled his excitement and darted around Ari, tearing himself out of the door and down the stairs until he was just over halfway down and was able to push himself over the railing.

Jake landed on the floor, almost misstepping but caught himself at the last moment. He had pushed past Ransom on the way to the front door, his excitement unfounded as he ripped open the door and screeched your name at the top of his lungs like it was a battle cry.

You had reacted with as much excitement, dropping your bag in the middle of the driveway, and bounding toward Jake. He met you in the entranceway and immediately set to wrap his arms around your waist, lifting you from the floor to spin you twice before he set you back down.

You threw your arms around his neck and stood on your tippy toes, slating your lips against his. Jake rested his hands against the curve of your ass, grabbing handfuls of you as you boldly and unapologetically greet each other with increasing and intense passion.

You had only pulled away when you both needed to catch a breath and when you had, Jake leaned forward and rest his forehead against yours. You both closed your eyes and breathed in each other’s scents, taking your fill of each other as you’d been apart for a week.

“I missed you,” he whispered to you, softly and tenderly, “I missed you so damn much, baby bear.”

“I missed you too.” The world, at least temporarily, was confined to you and Jake.

It was you and him, reuniting even if you hadn’t been separated long. It was Jake’s hands on your body, his chest pressed against yours as you breathed each other in. Your hands pressed against his chest, your fingers curling against him while your head was tipped back and your eyes were locked on each other.

The corner of Jake’s lips twitched a different kind of smile slowly building on his face. He raised a hand from the curve of your ass to the side of your neck where Steve’s mark was, his thumb rushing the healing mark tenderly. A shiver rippled down your spine from the gentle friction created by the pad of his thumb, the raised mark soon to heal, was a claim and a promise of the future.

“I’m so proud of you,” Jake praised you with every intention of making you melt against him, “look at how far we’ve come.”

“Proud of me? I’m proud of you.” Standing on your tippy toes, you pressed your lips to his again in quickened haste. “I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

You finally pulled away from Jake, patting his chest twice before you stepped around him and looked toward Ari and Ransom.

While Ari appeared to be readying himself for work, Ransom was standing nearby with a cup of tea in one hand and his phone in the other.

Ari had been the first you studied, the dress shirt he chose for the day had been left open to draw attention to his wide, broad and toned chest. His long legs are accentuated by the fitted black pants, the image of two creating this alluring and seductive image of your alpha.

“I missed you,” you drew yourself toward him, greeting him with as searing of a kiss as you had given Jake, pressing yourself against his warmth.

You spoke honestly, affectionately and endearingly drawn to the big, thick and strong alpha. You had hugged him, sighing in contentment when he had hugged you in return.

“You look good with that mark on your neck. Gonna let Levinson mark you next?” Ransom’s voice drew you from Ari, and you stepped toward the rich playboy.

Ransom wore the same light blue sweater, with tattered sleeves and a rip on the front, as he had when he dropped you off at the airport. His hair was falling slightly into his eyes, the soft dark strands stirring your attention and as pushed them out of his face, Ransom reached for you.

One had rested on the small of your back, thumb moving languidly in small motions that drew an elicit whisper. You had chirped softly while caught in his gaze, his hands on your body providing a level of security you hadn’t felt yet with him.

“No,” you drew yourself closer to him, the tip of your nose brushing against his, your lips parting with a soft murmur, “I want yours next.”

Permanent Tags List: @jennmurawski13-writes @beardburnsupersoldiers @rebekahdawkins @supraveng @bookfrog242 @old-enough-to-know-better73 @loveitorleaveit20 @alexakeyloveloki @socalgem1124 @mogaruke @dreamlessinparis @frisky975 @dispatchvampire @hereforbuckyandsteve @jesgisborne @fairybnha3 @hallecarey1 @tang082646 @mrslokibarnesrogers @deputy-videogamer @posionivy0061 @loving-life-my-way @kaylamcd2000 @mercyy98 @undecidedsworld @rootcrop @whatinthestyles @slutforsteve @cornmousequeen @rededfoxy @yagurl-snow @glimmering-darling-dolly @patzammit @buckymydarlingangel @missusbarnes-rogers @andy-is-gay @nervousfandom @rileyloves5 @emi11ie @carelessreadersstuff @readingandwritingandreading @cynic-spirit @inkedaztec @gh0stgurl @cats-and-sheep @pono-pura-vida @seitmai @teambarnes72 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @miss-rebel-without-applause

[kimmiessimmies]

Just a ramble about aesthetics and things

Like most of us, I also saw that aesthetics question going round and since reading it and the responses to it, I've been thinking about it more than I should, which in turn got me thinking about other things Simblr and community related and I decided to share my two cents about it as well.

The question stated in the poll was "How important do you think 'aesthetic quality' is in the simblr community?" and the answers varied immensely. Doing a quick Tumblr/Simblr scroll, the answer would have to be 'very important', because most images showing up are very gorgeous: beautiful colours, great compositions, perfect lighting. However, when I check the tab that shows which posts I have liked, the pattern changes: it's the storytellers who get most of my Tumblr hearts. And then it doesn't matter whether it's part of an elaborate story that's been going on for years with several plot twists, or just a family having breakfast. I like both equally, because both tell a story. Sure, I like a nice Sim picture as much as the next person, but for me, it will always be about the story it tells much more than the aesthetics of it.

The same is true for my own posts: I just want to tell my stories, share my Sims, my town. Yes, I sometimes post picture posts of lots I've built. At first glance, you could say that's about aesthetics more than storytelling. But it's not. Because of the way I play, everything is connected: the story is Honeycomb Valley and everything from the lots to the Sims to the seemingly random things that happen to them are all part of it. Sure, I love creating beautiful lots, but that's mostly because I like realism in my game. I like to see my sims in places that look true to life. And because this is a self-created world, it can look like the best version of that life. 😉

In taking pictures, I try to get the best angle and before posting I run my pictures through Picmonkey to do a bit of basic editing, which is mostly just an auto adjust of brightness and shadows. Literally two clicks and I'm done. I hadn't even heard of Reshade and all those other -shades until a month or two ago. 😄

I read another reply saying how everyone who has a Simblr does so for the notes, because if you're not in it for the notes, why have a Simblr in the first place? This made me laugh. I get the point, but if I was in it for the notes, I might as well leave today. I averaged around 20 notes per post during my glory days and only around 9 since returning after my hiatus. I can think of many reasons why this is:

My posts can seem very incoherent: I can be posting about James Wyler one day and about Luke Bennett the next. These two have never even crossed paths and their stories have no apparent connection whatsoever. I can imagine how this makes my stories and my Sims hard to follow for most.

I don’t post my full stories on here. Reading them requires a visit to my WordPress blog. I understand how most people just want to do a quick scroll, read, like, and move on.

I am and will forever be TS3 player. And we're simply a smaller crowd in the Simblr universe currently.

I was gone for five years.

Now, I could change all of this (except for that last one) and possibly get more followers and more notes. But I don't want to. Yes, of course, I love getting a notification saying someone liked my post. I appreciate the support and the love and it makes me very happy to see there are people out there who like the stories I write, the lots I build and feel connected to my Sims to some degree. So in that sense, I get why someone would say we're all in it for the notes. But I don't care about the quantity. I love those 9 just as much as I love the 195 I once received on my much-reblogged post of The Greenery.

So, I'm not changing a thing. I'm keeping my WordPress blog as my main Sims home because that's where everything connects. Where it does make sense that I'm posting about James on day 1 and about Luke on day 2. Where the story is Honeycomb Valley. Where you can click from a story to a Sim profile and vice versa. And my Simblr will remain a place to just post bits and pieces (and rambles like this) and to stay connected to the ones who are interested in me, my stories and my Sims. I love my 9 notes and I love the 3 people who click on to visit my WordPress blog and read my full stories a little bit extra. 😉❤���

One last thing I would like to add to this already much too-long rant is how much I miss the old Sim community. The days of the forums and the tight-knit online group us Sims veterans were. Discovering and becoming a part of the Sim community back then has meant a lot to me. I miss that. I realise I sound like a grandmother now, reminiscing about the good old days, so maybe it's time to end this post. 😄

Anyway, that's my ramble of thoughts on aesthetics, Simblrs and community. Thanks for reading. 😊

[almalvo]

STAR TREK: DISCOVERY | S1E1 "The Vulcan Hello"

[I will react to each episode individually and in full, raw reception and then post as is unrevised here onto my tumblr for the full span of every and all NuTrek episodes and series that have been and will be released. If this falls under your field of interest - I welcome your company in joining me. Enjoy the ride.] -------

im sorry. but the fucking graphics took my breath away. not as if im not a 2023rd year modern dweller. BUT. listen. i have been adrift in the world of pre 2009 Star Trek for the better part of a year straight. I am NOT used to Trek looking this way in a series. This 13 year jump from Enterprise to Discovery REALLY shows. And how the advancements of technology have most certainly carried Trek along in its undertow. 13 years….. when at last Star Trek gets to return to its roots in episodic narration. To return home. And my, how gorgeous it looks. Bring it.

I am ready for you.

oh my god. is this. fucking. KLINGON?? i have seen this charcter on the cover of a trek comic before. had no context. IS THIS KLINGON FOR REAL - KAHLESS?? oh my god. they look so different? what has happened???? IS THIS THEIR MODERNISATION OF KLINGONS oh my god its fucking FULL 4K HD I AM NOT USED TO TREK LOOKING LIKE THIS AND IM A FUCKING MILLENIAL/GEN-Z SPLITTER. BUT OVER HERE TALKING LIKE A CAVEMAN OH MY GOD MY EYES

THE LACK OF VERTICAL BARS ON THE LATERAL ENDS OF MY HD MONITOR. THE 2 NEW HORIZONTAL BLACK BARS ABOVE AND BELOW THE IMAGE I CATCH AND SAY ALOUD - "IS THIS REALLY STAR TREK IM SEEING RIGHT NOW BEFORE MINE EYES???" HOLD THE PHONE MICHELLE YEOH IS IN THIS????? EXCUSE ME ??? OH MY GOD THIS IS THEEE MICHAEL BURNHAM?!?!?! oh man they are both so gorgeous oh my god this cgi is lovely oh my god the SATURATION OF HTE COLOURS THE CRYSTAL CLEAR RESOLU TION THE LACK OF GREEN SCREENAGE is this actually star trek that im seeing though no wait are you for real i cant believe this is trek oml that communicator the flip immpeccable oh man im just i feele such an emotion inside watching this the ALIEN DESIGNS this background their environment is so pretty their wardrobe deisngs those goggles the feeling ENTERPRISE THE MUSIC THE ;M;USIC THE U SIC THE HORNS OH MY GOD THE NX??? IS THAT THE NX?????? oh m;y god the transportation THE TENELEPOTATION EFFECTS THE PATTERN IN THE SAND AAAAAAAAAAAA NO FUCKING WAY NO FUCKING WAY THEY ARE STARTING HTE SCORE WITH THE SONOROUS THEME OF THE ORIGINAL OHHH WHAT AN INTERESTING UPGRADE INBETWEEN SHAPE OF HTE ENTERPRISE?!?!?!?! oh my god this intro sequence is so PRETTY OF MY GOD THE PHASER THE PHASER THE COMMUNICATOR OH MY GODDDDDD THE VULCAN SALUTE OH MY GOD THE INTRO SEQUENCE IS SO BEAUTIFUL OH MY GOD ITS SO DIFFERENT ITS SO NEW UGHHH THIS ENDING SEND OFF OF THE NOTES OF THE OP IM SORRY IM NOT SUED TO ANY OF THIS BEING TREK LOOOOOOK AT IT LOOOOOOK AT IT oh my god space looks so beautiful no fucking way this is trek look at these graphicssss i may be born at the terminus of the 20th century, but i sound much older THEIR UNIFORMS ARE SO FUCKING SNAZZZY THAE BRIDGE IS DARKKKK THE SOUND EFFECTS

OH MY GOD LOOK AT THE BRIDGEEEE SARUUUUUUU OH MY GOD I FINALLY I SEEEE SARUUUUUU i didnt know his name is pronounced like that dude i fucking love their uniforms so fucking sharp they look like the communicators oh my god i fucking love everything bout this all the blueee the colours saru is fucking tall i like his facce oh m;y god the chair look at the screens look at the monitors the viewscreen is massive look at the computer schematics and user interfaces also ASIAN WOMAN CAPTAIN HAHAHAHA IT TOOK THIS LONG????? oh my god… trek has never looked better…… something about saru's face reminds me of archer hahah his voice sounds exactly like what i think saru would sound like dude a telescope amazing im sorry i fucking love all this since 00:00 i am just mouth agape im in awe at what im seeing at the evolution of trek having reached this far dude the SUITS LOOK AT THEIR SUITSSSSSSSS THE SPACE SUITSSSSSSS THESE COLOURS my eyes are wet why i just barely contained myself after Enterprise's finale…. this is so gorgeous. this is one hell of a first episode. oh my god its just tooo pristine dude this is a SHOW AND NOT A FILM?? sorry ok im talking trek ok listen having so often beeen under the graphical shadow of things like its child star wars i feel something immense… immeasurable…. i feel… something rather similar to what had ravaged through me when I watched Star Trek: The Motion Picture. seeing the massive upgrades in everything from what came before…

its…. pride. utter, unadulterated pride. to see its imminence be crowned an ornamentation it is beyond deserving of. to don the clothes that match its lustre. at last. star trek desrves to look this good.

is that… a fucking bird of prey. ITS A BIRD OF PREY THOS ARE FUCKING WINGS THAT FUCKING ARMOUR OH MY FUCKING SHIT THAT ARMOUR THOSE DETAILS OH MY GOD FUCKIGN KILL ME AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA it just occurred to me the ranking designations in their uniforms through the metallic hue and striping - lovely KLINGON this redesign of the klingons…… wow these designs and shapes of their attire and architecture its so impressive its so beautiful what an intense elegance i cant believe this star trek. oh my god the klingon roar of death's passing whoaaaa medbay whos the doctor? VUL;CAN VULCANNNNNNNNN LEARNING PODSSSS THIS IS SO SIMILAR TO THE AOS FILM IS THIS TAKING INSPIRATION FROM THE FILM???? UGHHHH VUHLKANSU LOOKS BEAUTIFUL AS EVER oh my god vulcan who are the vulcans we meet in this SAREK??? i have never seen Nutrek Sarek ever before… WAIT HUMAN HEART WHY DID BURNHAM DREAM THAT WHY DID SHE DREAM THAT unless it wasnt her dream but also that child. human heart. sarek this is a while ago uh uhhhh uhhhhhhh no i know its not him. it cant be. oh i like the badges

OH MY GOD THE DECLOAKING SOUND EFFECT LOOK AT THAT THINGGGGG LOOK AT ITTTTTTTT also saru has feathery tendrils?? i didnt know im at the edge of my seat LOOK AT THE KLINGON VESSEL LOOK AT IT OH M;Y GODDDDDD its floors look so nice even its interesting to hear klingon this way almost soft this makes me want to learn klingon more than ever. pale klingon? UGHH IS THAT A BAT'LETH?? GOD EVERYTHIGN LOOKS SO DIFFERENT im sorry wait these new klingon designs look so nice though hold up they have such pleasant shapes saru is so tall i like his proportions big stickman haha saru's eyes are so pretty god these beautiful graphics… i love the love and care that went into this even visually as much deserved as always i want that uniform give it to me

i like how its like the dark blue of Enterprise's uniform carried over to the uniforms in Discovery at least. im so SOO into this right now. im SOOOO into this right now. WHOAAAAAAAA THE BIRD OF PREY(?) SPREADING ITS WINGS LIKE THATTTTT WHOAOAAAAAAA LOOK AT THE LIVING QUARTERS THEY LOOK SO NICEEE I WANT MY ROOM LIKE THIS Sarek what is your relation with michael oml what what is happening oml more Sarek involvement thats so cool we get to see and learn and know more about Sarek??? oh man…. i love what hes wearing. i see that IDIC thing on her desk what is that behind her?? im so curious what burnham and sarek's relationship is how did they meet etc oh my god im sooo invested im SOOOO into this. IMMMM EATEN UP BY THIS. IM FUCKING EEATTING THE SHIIIT OUT OF THISSSSSSS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRARARRAAAA interesting Vulcan Hello…. Burnham is so pretty oh my god Phillipa is a RULER on that captain's seat. i love these colorus. its so visually alive my eyes are so fucking emotional from whats entering them im eating all of this. these lens flares though EXCUSE ME EXCUSE ME DID SHE JUST DID SHE JUST DO THAT DID SHE DJUST MA'AM MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM MAAAAI09GHGHJGGG JDUSAITJHAHT SGFKJHSEL RTH HRT HRT THR DID SHE JUST NECK PINCH HER CAPTAIN?? WTFFFFFF IS HAPPPENNNNINGGGG?????????????? WHAT THE FUCUUCKCKKK???? HOLLLYYYYY FUCKKKKK!??!!??!?!?! I LOST ALL AIR WHEN I WITNESSED WHAT I JUST WITNESSED PHASER WTF IS HAPPENING THAT IS A GORGEOUS PHASER BTW oh my god im BLOWN. AWAY. OH MY GOD WARP OH MY GOD THE SHEER NUMBER OF SHIPS. OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDD i i i cant. i cant. i cannot. I CAN NOT.

I- Dear Discovery.

You have caught my attention.

[completeoveranalysis]

[1]

Chapitre 176:

The Unmoving Body, the new fragrance from CLAMP. Available now!

But OH the aesthetic. CLAMP are once again relishing in the climax of the plot and really giving themselves the space to elevate it all with the drama it deserves. 

Which in this case means the cover chapter is a solemn, serious close up of Lava Lamp as he enters this final battle. AND THE DETAILS. The cover shows us his face, but only half his face - only one eye is visible, which means the next chapter pretty much HAS to be the inverse of this, with Syaoran doing the opposite pose with the opposite eye visible. The duality of it all is just RIGHT THERE on display, with each of them being an unequal half of the other, with all that means to each of them and all that’s happened in the plot because of it. Even the visible bands of black and white down the left side of the page (with the shadows on Lava Lamp’s neck and the colour of his clothes) emphasise the pattern of their yin yang connection, but in an orderly balanced fashion, because this is Lava Lamp, and he’s the whole being. There’s also the visual pull through the repeated V shape (the neck of Lava Lamp’s shirt, the shadow on his neck, the tip of his chin, the shape of his nose) that pulls the eye down that stripe of alternating colour to really highlight the contrast between everything that’s happening visually. 

And in a fascinating callback Lava Lamp has a SHADOW here, lingering just behind him, which is such a FUN choice considering that the background is already black. They didn’t need another level of a grey tone shadow to make this dramatic but they did it anyway, because it's bringing the entire run of this imagery to its final conclusion. Lava Lamp’s metaphorical shadow is present in the image because Lava Lamp’s literal shadow is in front of him right now, lighting him on fire and trying to kill him. This echo of a person, this shadow come to life, has hung over his entire narrative, his entire life for years now, and its all been leading to this moment. 

And lastly the slow drift of sakura petals across the page! That not only present us with the gorgeous imagery we surely don’t need explained, but also CAST SHADOWS ON LAVA LAMP as they fall past him. The shadows AGAIN are a deliberate choice, because they aren’t always given shadows in pages like this, but if they were ever going to it would be HERE, with all that might mean, and all that implies for Lava Lamp, and all that hints at for the future. 

This cover is PEAK Clamp design. No notes!

[depoteka]

Ooh, I can ask some questions if you're in the mood. I saw your post about wanting to have that on your blog. Anyway, here it is:

1. What movies make you cry each time you watch them?

2. Who is your favorite book heroine and why?

3. A celebrity crush you had as a teenager and what made them appealing to you?

4. Which is your favorite fashion era and why?

5. Is there something you wish you could do, but never had the chance yet?

that's a lot of questions this is so lovely!! thank you!!!!!

to be frank i don't rewatch movies that often so i cannot really say!!! i've probably cried the hardest watching the bridges of madison county some years ago and i don't want to go through that again hhhh. i think when i decide to rewatch something it's always a movie that won't make me cry. my most rewatched movies are probably stand by me, bill & ted's excellent adventure and napoleon dynamite

going through my goodreads i realized that sooo many of my highest rated books have male protagonists, i need to change it. right now i'm reading myra breckinridge by gore vidal and i adore her. her obsession with gold age of hollywood and her personality are so captivating (and of course i've seen the movie so i just picture raquel welch in wonderful outfits while reading which makes the character even more iconic to me)

for some reason the first person that came to my mind was ewan mcgregor. i became obsessed with him after watching star wars prequels. and tbh what was appealing about him (other than his looks obviously which was a major factor) was the fact that he is goofy and not scared of playing in weird movies and just getting all naked in them from time to time. i lost interest when he started picking more mainstream movies and also when he left his wife aadfdf that was the last straw for me

ooof that's a hard one. probably 50s/60s/70s. i adore the patterns, the colours and the way clothes from this era fit on the body. when it comes to more historical things 19th century also had some gorgeous clothes but i'm not that knowledgeable on that, all i know is that early 19th century empire waist dresses are boring to me

not to be a sad loser on main but go on a date 🤧🤧 i refuse to use tinder so that's not happening anytime soon for me. but a girl can dream

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

1890s-ish outfit ideas

ok so my town is doing a historical christmas market for the second time ever this year (presumably, I haven't heard any updates yet but everyone around me acts like it's definitely happening so I guess it's happening idk)

Now one of the main inspirations for the outfit is this gorgeous gorgeous outfit from Crimson Peak:

I am. in love. (possibly because this kind of yellow is my favourite colour, though unfortunately I don't have fabric in this colour. ONE DAY). now I'm not going to do a bodice with those full muttonleg sleeves because ew no and also I don't have those skills yet, BUT I do highkey want to somehow incorporate that long bow on the back. (I also want to learn how to do my hair like that)

I also saw this post on instagram and I LOVE this outfit, even if it's about a decade later than what I'm planning. it's fine. there's like 3 people at that entire market that would know this and I know all 3 of them so I can just explain what's up lmao.

For the skirt I have a couple of inspirations that I might do a bit of a mixture of:

On the top left is a picture from a pattern book I have (which is good, because, pattern, even if I have to scale it up and adjust it to my size which will be a hot mess). Top right is a skirt from work that I love so so much, and I've been looking for a dark pinstripe fabric but tbh I already have a fabric and should just go with that instead. I might use the three stripe thing though. Bottom picture is another skirt from work that I was thinking of because of the similar decorations and also. green. because:

The fabric I'm going to use is a dark olive-y green changeant (/shot silk, except I don't think this is silk), so when it moves it gets a purple glow. I got it for free because we had 4 full boxes of unregistered fabrics at work that we filtered through and everything we decided not to keep was up for grabs and I claimed these immediately because I spent a solid couple of minutes just autistically staring at the colours changing in the light while we were folding it. it is, as far as I can tell, synthetic af and probably produced at some point between 1950 and 1980 but also. it's SO SO pretty.

I don't know exactly how much of this fabric I have but it's 2 very big pieces so definitely enough for a massive skirt if I want. I do think I want to use that pattern from the book I have, but I might add some more stripes or ruffles for decoration. idk yet. and also I'm thinking a big bow on the back with the strings going way down. I could make it one of those triangle-y black belts that got especially popular in the edwardian era but were already worn in the 1890s.

As I said, I don't know yet what I'm doing for the top/bodice/whatever. What I AM doing - and already making - is a knitted shawl. I'm using an 1864 pattern which you can find here. The original in the 1860s book looks like this:

BUT I'm making the main portion of it black, because that's what was much more commonly worn here. I haven't decided on the colours for the stripes yet, though I guess I'm probably going with a green to match the skirt.

and that's it so far! 3 months to make the skirt and shawl and decide on what else I'm going to wear, and to also make/find a petticoat or two (I have an actual historical traditional folk dress wool petticoat but it needs a lot of (hand)cleaning and then I need to put new tape on the top and bottom and new hooks and I just. haven't started on any of it yet.)

Oh also, before anyone asks: no I don't have a corset, and I'm not going to make one, because if I buy one it's expensive af and I don't have the time or skills to make one. it's fine. some day hopefully I'll have a corset or two. That said, if I do end up making a bodice I might cheat a little there and put some boning in that. Maybe.

[enparallel]

Book report: Winter in the Air

Winter in the Air, Sylvia Townsend Warner

This is a book of short stories, which is objectively the most difficult fiction of them all. There are 18 separate realities in these few pages, and they are each inhabited by totally separate beings. It's like going to an enormous party full of interesting people and talking with one after another after another, there are always more people to talk to, you never go back to the one you already decided you did/did not like, it is only the party as a whole you judge at the end. AND it's not fair to say "well it was lovely but now I'm exhausted" because the exhaustion was going to happen no matter who was there, wasn't it? You can't blame the concept of parties.

So: I talked to some great stories. These were mostly all published in The New Yorker, in a big stretch of time but possibly 1938-1955. The pithy little images STW creates are some of the best I've ever read for revealing a character's #relatable but not even remotely generic observations and conditions; she forms a person up in a few opinions stated in a few words and she's highly amusing in the process. The materiality of her settings! the economy of her skewerings! the desolation of her heartbreaks, all the more because half these characters have the epiphany that they've thrown their lives away on nothing and will VERY OBVIOUSLY go have a good sandwich and put it out of their heads forever.

A couple gorgeous sentences: "...one must have a small decency-bit of time in which to lick one's wounds and wring the sea-water of shipwreck out of one's hair." "It was a dislikeable room, mutilated by the remodelling, which had shorn it for a bathroom. The tree beyond the bedroom window, she thought...--even the tree, in itself a pleasant thing, must be contemplated as a sparrow-rack, where, from the first light onward, sparrows would congregate and clatter, making sleep impossible." (both from "Winter in the Air")

"It was late October. The trees had already shed most of their leaves, which were quietly consuming in bonfires. Those which remained hung motionless, their colours burning against the deep blue of the sky. All the shabbiness of late summer was gone. The grass had renewed its green, the plane trees had stripped off their sooty bark, the picnicking parties contained no inelegant nudes or panting dogs. It was as though summer, after a purgatory of equinoctial rain and gales, had come back ensainted." ("Shadwell")

The other thing about the unity of form and audience in these stories is that is exposes the formulaic nature of the model: the single heartfelt detail that creates the fatal twist, the twist that creates the re-narrativizing of the entire past and/or future, the way love and being true to yourself simultaneously is the only worthwhile path and yet also so unsatisfactory, muddy and full of potholes and not in the direction one would prefer. No one gets what they want here, unless it is as comeuppance, and we look at them from on high where we can appreciate the full distance between the inchoate longings of the soul and the crappy little options the body manages to locate. It rings perfectly true in some chambers and flatly ridiculous in others. It would be a lot easier to appreciate if more or less every story didn't work in the exact same pattern.

Does every story work in the exact same pattern? IDK, because I didn't wholly get the reference on a couple of them and am left flatfooted at the turn from relation of events to Meaningful Sentence. I frickin love the subtle accumulation of evidence suddenly revealed to display the Whole-Ass Answer of what's going on but a lot of it depends on cultural touchstones in common and I don't have a full matching set with STW. I'm definitely keeping the book longer to google what's going on in the bits where I can feel how it comes together but I don't understand WHY. (This is actually exactly what it felt like to read New Yorker stories as a late teen or whatever. I just don't know enough and everything is references and inferences from references. Foundational literary trauma.) Possibly googling them will teach me how to pull these tricks off better myself, and then I can assuage my cultural anxiety by putting a bunch of footnotes to explain the joke and then pretending the footnotes are also jokes so that no one feels condescended to or excluded.

Anyway if this is STW's random party behavior commercial fiction I suspect I'll love visiting her house her novels.

[myimaginedcorner]

HAPPY NEW YEAR: R/MC

WARNING: Potential spoilers for one of R's Good Endings.

It’s celebration day in Capital.

Once in a year, our moon predicts the coming of new cycles, its surface painted gold by our star. Once in a year, the night becomes day, refusing to give back the light it steals from its bright sibling. Once in a year, all turns around, Nature preparing for a new beginning. Once in a year, all humans go outside to watch the world go back in time. It was, it is, and it will be, as long as creatures remain curious.

The streets are lit, candles dancing inside colourful bags of cloth. Hanged over our heads, they serve as decoration for festivities. Runes have been drawn over the walls, their twinkling shining seeping through the noisy crowd. Some mages walk around, constantly mending cracks made by vandalic children, preventing spells from ruining the night. Scents fill each alley, their own, unique aroma contributing to its canvas. One is a forest: its walls grow paintings of green leaves and trunks, wild flowers opening as windows to a private building. Odours of fruits and rivers fill the thickened air, warmth running between bodies, urging to undress. Another one is a cold mountain: white rests next to closed shutters, dancing snowflakes falling from the painted walls. Snow snakes lurk between people’s shadows, majestic eyes observing from the dark. It smells of an upcoming blizzard – it urges one to run back home.

I haven’t been to many of these parties. Growing in Hyppo, I’ve known my own share of events, yet none was as impressive as Capital’s Regression. Living in it, I’ve had many adventures falling on these times of year, not always present to enjoy the sweetened wine or sour candies. There always was something that bothered me, or something that was missing.

Not now, however. On this night, a smile played on my lips, my heart finally fully ready for the celebration.

I walk across the paths, cloak covering my well-known face. With every turn, I feel as if I’m entering a new domain, a new existence, a new small corner of the world where normally it would take days to travel. There is a river, running down one street. Another climbs the peaks of the Big Spikes. Some wonder on the depths that laid unseen beneath the ocean, and others travel to known pits inside Gold Breach. Imagination runs as wild as magic only let it be: tonight, Capital is all Therania, if not beyond it.

My steps bring me to a big plaza, the central part of our city. On it, a podium has been already built, waiting the monarch to give speech before the nights starts ending. It’s a tradition, to hear the leader of our kingdom say how our year will be: with Seers predicting Time’s expected flow, a promise issued on this night held hopes for a bright future in the subject’s heads, giving them reasons to believe no wrong will happen later.

Truth is, this year will be a little different. Our world become a little different… and, as odd as it can feel, it all has happened due to me.

“You’ll be ready when you get up there.”

A sweet, familiar voice sounds close to me, approaching from behind. With a bright smile lit up by their sole presence, I turn around to see R’s gorgeous face, their sight placed on me since the moment that I’ve got here. Their armour looks all shiny and impressive, new patterns now embedded into engraved tales. Gold strokes, depicting Hero’s story, run through their chest towards their arms and fingers, legs covered up with scriptures wishing peace and wealth. This is not armour that is meant for battle. That armour, old yet so familiar to my view, has been put back into a warehouse by our shared adventure.

How long it’s been since I’ve last seen them in it? Little over a few months. And yet, in times of final peace, that feels like a brief second.

“As long as my warrior stands next to me,” I answer, extending my gloved hand. They answer, carefully taking it, our fingers interlaced, exposed to the crowd’s chatter. I know they’ll talk, yet I don’t care – there’s nothing else I need but to be next to them.

They smile. “I’ll always be there. I promise.”

I nod, knowing they tell the truth. This night… this night is big for us. For the first time in years, no monarch will be giving speech. No Seers will stand there, nodding to the words being spoken. It won’t be them – it’ll be me. Left as a ray of light, made into hope that wavered during tensions. We’ve won, and that’s because of me.

Now, Hero’s ready to become a new, restarted kingdom.

I place my head upon R’s shoulder, letting out a sigh. Tonight… yes, it’s tonight. One last memorial of what has happened this year. All tears that have been shed, all worries and all risks. All screams of war. All sieges. All the fear of future.

“Next year… let’s celebrate it somewhere else…” I mumble, and I hear them laugh.

“Promised,” they nod back, their hand clenched slightly on my own.

Turning towards them, issuing a quiet pry, I get a silent answer before kissing. It’s a brief kiss, one that caresses our lips with heat from our touch, unable to prolong it further even if we wanted. To crowded, and too many watching. However, it’s enough for now. A seal to our promise.

“Where do you want to go…?” their whisper reaches me and only me. I shrug my shoulders, smiling.

“Somewhere where we can share more.”

Their hand caresses my warm cheek.

“We’ll still have time today.”

“I know,” with a small sigh, I press my skin against their naked palm.

“Don’t be grumpy, you’ll get wrinkles,” they giggle, watching my small tantrum.

“I’m not…” I mumble, not believed. “I just don’t want to go. I want to stay next to you.”

“I’ll be there when you finish.”

I look at them, our eyes locked in a gaze only we share.

“Promise…?”

“Promise. Tonight, and all the nights to come.”

I smile. Tonight, it’s their last shift. With war finally gone, many are taking leaves or leaving for retirement. Not many Knights are needed, and heroes have even more chance to ask to be released. R has done plenty for their country. Its time to take a break… to dedicate themselves to serve in other meanings. Tonight, it’s our most special night.

A new beginning.

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

First fortune cookie rec list of the year, hell yeah! I’m already a day late, but I wanted to do this post justice so I could properly and wholeheartedly wish @anaxandria-writes​ a very happy belated birthday! Rin absolutely deserves a shout out for not only being a fandom enthusiast, but also a creative go-getter and an amazing fandom friend. It’s kinda crazy, because even though we’ve only known each other for maybe a couple-ish of years, it seems like we’ve been friends forever. I guess that’s what happens when we constantly scream and squee about all the things both online and offline (because yayy for being neighbors!). Honestly, Rin’s spirit kinda reminds me of the bright rainbow we all like to see in the sky. That’s probably reflective of her excitement about a lot of things, as well as her love for loud colours and patterns (trust me, I tried to see what I could come up with for the origami spread). We like rare pairs, and hell yes for being multishippers in multiple fandoms, and I’m super happy that we get to share not only HP as a fandom but also Teen Wolf! Yayy! I first got to know Rin in 2021 in the Rare Pairs server, and soon enough CoMs and the Wizarding Den servers and a gazillion other servers I can’t keep track of. That probably indicates we a lot of common interests to begin with, which isn’t a bad thing. One being Flintwood, though Rin has been a big influence on why I dipped my toes in this ship. And when I’ve needed a little bit of inspo for making art or writing fic, she’s already been my go-to person for all the headcanons about Marcus and Oliver. She’s also why I’ve started shipping Herbtamer too, but then again, it’s probably because she’s soo enthusiastic about these two, so how could I say no? Why not...Charlie and Neville are really damn cute together, okay? AND since we both adore Oliver Wood, that was how Wood Your Rather came to be as a prompt challenge since we wanted more Oliver works in general. WYR was the very first fest we both ran for fandom (and basically ever), and boy did we learn a lot about modding while also getting to know each other. I honestly couldn’t think of co-modding this event with anyone else, because one needs to really love Oliver to pieces to make something like WYR work. (P.S. stay tuned for more news on this year’s event very soon!). When it comes to fandom, Rin has done a little bit of everything. She’s a writer and an aspiring artist (and a great cheerleader)! I love that Rin has been trying out new mediums, techniques and ways to make different projects, which is so awesome. She’s definitely an influencer on why I’m currently writing a long ass text fic now (yes, it’s addicting and fun to write in this format, and I’ve recced her fun text fic below). And the progress she’s made with drawing is mind blowing since she picked it up again early last year. She’s dabbled in traditional and digital art, and I’m so excited to see what else she makes for 2023. Did you know Rin’s an embroiderer, crocheter and a knitter, and she makes some pretty gorgeous fanfic bookbindings? Okay, so bookbinding is NOT any easy thing to do, but Rin just jumped right into this hobby probably late in the summer and has made some really amazing books. Everything from typesetting to printing and getting things cased and pretty is a process. 8908908 kudos for doing the Lord’s work in making fics into something tangible and visually appealing to the eye. I know for a fact I’m probs going to peppering you with q’s as soon as I do have a chance to get my feet wet in bookbinding. If you want to see some Rin’s creative works, here are some of my favourite pieces of hers: 🌈 >>> A Very Owl Post WrtrGrl Anthology and Little Lost Things by flightinflame (Drarry bookbindings)

These two books were gifts Rin made for H/D Owl Post for 2022. All I have to say is look through the photos for each finished piece but also Rin’s process on how things came together for both of them, okay?! Seeing the WIP shots for a single book made by HAND is so cool. And well, pretty paper and fonts and seeing fanfics bound with love is really something special and should be appreciated. 💻 >>> Love Advice (Drarry and Wolfstar, T, 1.1k)

Summary: When it comes to advice about the boy he likes, Harry turns to Moony. Not Padfoot.

Yayy for epistolary fic! I love how fun these letters, and Harry going to Remus and Sirius for romantic advice. It’s sweet and endearing, and seeing Drarry from Wolfstar’s PoV through these letters is pretty hilarious, since it’s very obvious how different Remus and Sirius approach things. What a fun read! 🌈 >>> A Dragon and a Lion Celebrate Christmas (Drarry, G, Crochet)

Summary: What do you gift someone who has everything? Draco decides to make the Chosen One a.k.a. Harry Potter a.k.a. his boyfriend amigurumi versions of themselves for the holidays.

Another H/D Owl Post gift made by Rin, where Harry and Draco are cute AF as animals. They look so squishable! Since I have no crochet skills (yet..I’m working on it), I’m always impressed by folks who can make adorable and tangible creatures like this. And ones that stand up on their own...that’s super important for display purposes! 💻 >>> An Expensive Courtship (Drarry, E, 10.9k)

Summary: Draco spent years gathering up courage, then months of extensive planning, and literally tens of thousands of Galleons in his attempts to woo Harry. Harry just thought they were best friends.

LOL. I love Draco wooing an oblivious Harry in general. And them just being idiots. And the little cameo of Flintwood in this (yay!), and all the ridiculous attempts for the dates. This story totally pokes at the cliches, but that’s what made this fic so fun. Throw in some nosy ass friends, and of course everything seems like it’s a chaotic disaster, or in this case, a lot of misunderstandings. I’m glad Draco and Harry get their heads out their asses eventually and get together though. It just took them a while to move out of that friend zone. *pats them both on the heads* 🌈 >>> It Takes Two to Tango (Flintwood, G)

Summary: Dancing with Marcus Flint at the Quidditch League ceremony was not what Oliver Wood signed up for, but maybe it was what he needed.

SOOO. I know this was gifted to me, but I’m going to be very honest: When I saw this was drawn traditionally and just how well it fit the prompt, I was super giddy over it. I’m very lucky I have the original of this to look at whenever I want, but I think this was one of the first art pieces I saw of Rin’s as she was starting to dive more into drawing. I adore Oliver’s kilt and Marcus taking the lead, and they just look happy to actually be dancing with each other, okay? This has to be a fav of mine because it embraces the fluffier side of Flintwood. 💻 >>> Herbology_Neville and DragonKeeperCW (Herbtamer, E, 11.4 k)

Summary: When Neville starts live-streaming on WixenVid, he’s unsure who would want to watch him ramble about plants for an hour. DragonKeeperCW is very interested in the show (and in Neville).

AHHH! Gosh, this one is just so much fun! I love the Youtube feel of this which makes this stand out already as a story, and Charlie and Neville are so flirty yet soft with each other. The overall humour, sexual tension and fluff mixed ogether works so well. And they’re so true their passions: Neville with his plants, Charlie with his dragons, and when it comes to each other...yessss. :D 💻 >>> 🙀 ➡ 😻 ➡ 😽 (Marvel- Stony, T, 5.2 k)

Summary: Tony puts up a "Missing Cat" sign and not only 1) gets his cat back, but 2) meets a cute guy named Steve who keeps refusing the reward. A story told in texts, voicemail transcriptions, and, of course, an overuse of emojis.

OKAY, I know this is not an HP fic, but I had to include this because it’s hilarious, it’s a text fic, and YES. I’m not even in the Marvel fandom, but I was really intrigued to read a fic that was completely done through texts and gosh, it just works so well with show and tell, shenanigans and I love how people’s personalities can shine through the use of dialogue through technology vs. narration or talking face-to-face. I honestly was cackling by the time I was done with this read because it totally embraces Crack Treated Seriously to the tee. Love this so much! You can find more of Rin’s work on AO3. Make sure to leave kudos and comments to show appreciation for all of her fandom contributions. Rin, your willingness to be curious and try new things is contagious, and you have a way of making people’s day a little brighter. I’m so glad you’re part of fandom and that you’re so passionate about what you love. Keep being you. I hope you have a smashing day!

[gwently]

2023 part 2?

So fountain pens. While I really got into them in 2022, it was not my first foray into them. My first pen was a gift from an online friend way back in...2017? For my birthday. It was a Pilot Metropolitan and I immediately fucked it up, spilled ink everywhere. I was too dumb to look up how to properly fill it, though i am sure I messed up the nib as well. Since it was a gift it stayed in my room for several years until I threw it out one day, for a reason that cannot be remembered. We laughed at my incompetence and she wasn't angry, so that birthday managed to be memorable.

I don't even know what sparked my current interest in fountain pens. Think I was looking at ink drawings? and remembered these things existed and well I am firmly down the hole. I brought a lot of pens last year, trying out different filling methods or nib sizes, going for cool colours, you name it. Having disposable income for the first time and not knowing what to do with it may be a factor. Sure, I definitely do not need that many pens, but don't judge me. I sure as hell don't judge that one person who tosses in random kanji in their name or bio that is probably google translated, because to them Japanese is a fun aesthetic, not a language used and enjoyed by real people.

I mostly got the reckless spending out of my system, while there are many different inks and pens I still want to try out there's only so many I can use short term, so now the focus is on getting use of what I have and maybe selling/giving away a few. Improving my handwriting and learning cursive properly are also goals of mine, as it is very awkward trying to write a signature and only being able to make the l and t in my last name look pretty, a thing I only know from diving into the bottom of my memory containing a mental image of my mother's handwriting that can no longer be replicated.

Journaling! Right that's the main reason why I use my pens now. I've always written things down on random scrap sheets of paper as little reminders or to do lists — a habit that happens more often due to my grandmother's influence in recent years — so getting a proper journal only made sense. With fountain pens certain inks or nibs respond better on good paper, so that means I also invested in some notebooks. You can quickly see how this hobby can become a money sink if you really wanted to. Thankfully after trying out Rhodia and feeling dissatisfied, Maruman (a japanese brand) stopped my search for paper that suited what I like. I prefer spiral/ring notebooks the most so it was a double win, similar to [insert fighting game reference 0 people reading this would understand]

I lost my train of thought but it's okay, no one will read this. Here's a pen I brought in...(checks amazon purchases) October.

(yes that is my hand, those aren't scratches it's lint)

The very famous and popular Pilot Custom 823, with a broad nib. It is a vacuum filler — one of my fav methods of filling — and managed to grab it while yen was very, very low so it was around $192 with tax, when normally it would cost me around $220-280. My most expensive pen and probably will be for a very long time. It's funny cause when I first brought it I was like damn. This is kinda mid. Like when you watch that super popular anime that's airing, only to be bewildered at what all the hype is about. Now it's one of my favourite writers, the gold nib has a softness that is fairly unique, making writing with it a breeze as it floats over paper. Sometimes you just need to sleep on things. If it wasn't for the cost I would consider getting a second one, the amber colourway in particular is gorgeous.

Right now though I am interested in vintage pens, there is definitely something nice about holding something older than my grandparents and looking up it's history, and the time period around it.

(Not my image, credit goes to redeempens/will vintage on reddit) Today I got myself a WASP Clipper in this marvelous brown/gold pattern that is commonly called "circuit board" by collectors. It's a "lever filler", a filling method mostly absent from modern pens.

WASP is a sub-brand by famous pen manufacturer Sheaffer. WASP stands for "W.A. Sheaffer Pen", because why bother with subtlety. This pen was made sometime during the 1930s, cool stuff. Usually pens this old have the risk of having it's ink sac disintegrated, so you would have to repair it yourself or get someone to do it for you. Thankfully the pen I grabbed was already restored, so now I'm waiting on my package of ink to come in the mail to test this bad boy out.

Uhh okay this post was long so bye! This is barely 2023 related but that's what happens when you don't plan things out in advance. Here's a song from an album I've been listening to lately, Spirit World Field Guide by Aesop Rock

[maddogbackdrops]

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