#it’s like easy to copy the patterns and stuff

[sodacowboy]

y’all are telling me there are people who do g*nshin fan art for free

[narsh-poptarts]

my dark link thoughts coalesced into wonderful headcanons and crazy amounts of forced perspectives and dutch angles

also sorry HW i would have included your dark link(s) but i do not have passion for your game <3 maybe next time

Some thoughts below

I have thoughts about dark link that boil down to basically two things: 1. it's always the same dark link, and 2. dark link has a very difficult time changing.

No matter how many times dark link is brought into existence, he is formed from the shadow of link usually to test link's will. that shadow can be duplicated (as seen in HW) but generally speaking it's the same guy, sharing the thought space, you know how it is. In terms of sentience/thinking for himself, I don't think there's all that much of it. He is a dark reflection/shadow of link, so shares his abilities and thought patterns (for combat) with added aggression and. evil. i guess.

As said by navi, "conquer yourself", and all that. He's a challenge to the inner will power.

That being said!!! he can have a little bit of individuality, as a treat. Just in the form of being mean and sadistic <3 he's got thoughts, he's not just a combat doll (tho in times of low power, or a greater power having the reins, he reverts to that), so he can be frustrated, vindicated, happy, etc etc. though when your thoughts are mainly "evilevilevilevilevil" your idea of these emotions are a bit skewed.

When he's summoned for each different link, i hc that it's all the same magic, so the same dark link every time. he "remembers" in an abstract sense of his role in the same way a link or zelda "remembers" their own reincarnation. tho his is less of a reincarnation and more being used over and over again. a persistence.

The iteration that's summoned reflects the current link at the time, the part of link that needs testing/defeating, so it's not an existence that he himself can change to match the present. he's locked to that first copy/shadow only. So if he were to have a second encounter with an older link, he'd look like the first time they fought, unless he was specifically re-summoned. i hc he's got limited magic, so this is not something he can do himself.

in a links-meet scenario, his form would be limited to those specific forms of the links, and it would always be the points in time in which he first encountered them, unless there's other magic either he or someone else has access to to allow him to change forms to match.

now you might be saying at this point "wouldn't he be a weaker match if he was put up against an older link?" yeah probably lol. but also!!! i like the idea that with the limited magic he has, he's able to change juuuust enough to stay relatively evenly matched. being able to play to different strengths and all that. but the base stuff is still the same, so he is decently easy enough to read if link remembers the kind of stuff he was pulling back when he originally fought dark link.

dark link also knows about all this so while limited to the particular skillset, is able to adapt slightly.

but yeah been thinking a lot about a links-meet au where dark link is there choosing a different link to be every time he appears to the party.

though there are a couple links that he never impersonates in their games!!! so can't change into those guys unless he gets a new round of copycat magic.

Anyways goodbye guy standing there with standard camera angle, i have dutch angles and forced perspective

[stars-obsession-pit]

DPxDC or other such DP crossover fics sometimes like to flirt with the idea of immensely powerful/eldritch Ghost King and/or Ancient Of Space Danny who outclasses everyone else, but I feel like they often fall short of making his power come across as truly overwhelming instead of just like… “regular powerful”.

Like sure he can easily take out the designated Worf dangerous villain (often Darkseid in a DPxDC thing) but like… without the actual story itself truly establishing that character’s power beforehand, that doesn’t necessarily feel as impactful as it could.

And even if the story does try to establish that, “he just punches the enemy and they fold” doesn’t carry the same… pizazz as something more reality-shaking.

(Not that stories necessarily need that pizazz, but like for reinforcing the image of strength it’s certainly helpful, especially if you don’t have that established power to take down first)

So anyway here’s a sorta rambled set of ideas for that sort of “more overwhelming power” stuff

What if when Danny is summoned, the whole world lurches for a moment as all of the planet’s momentum is ground to a halt by his arrival then reinstated. Or maybe gravity just… stops working for a moment, letting many items drift upwards into the air before falling back down.

Perhaps the whole sky could suddenly shift too. The daytime sky blackens to night, or the night turns to day. Maybe all the stars flare up brightly enough to become visible despite the sun’s glare (probably also shining brightly enough to cause eye damage to anyone unlucky enough to be looking outside at the time).

Or you could go more horror/freaky eldritch with it. The stars change to resemble eyes staring down on the world. Whispers can be heard originating from somewhere in the sky above. Maybe you’re crazy, but you could swear there’s a pattern to the positions of the stars currently visible, some hidden message encoded within them.

Or like just generally… summoning something that powerful isn’t a quiet affair. The world feels his arrival.

Relatedly, though not quite as directly relevant to this post’s contents, you’d probably also want to greatly increase the difficulty of summoning him. He’s too impressive to be given a lame/easy summoning ritual, you know? Make them work for their chance to talk to something this powerful.

And what about when Danny is present? How would he interact with the world?

Maybe when he needs to grab something from somewhere distant, instead of just creating a small portal and reaching through, space itself folds. Their vision distorts and suddenly the other location is just there beside them as if it always had been. Danny casually just reaches across, grabs the item, and then the world returns to normal.

Or alternatively, a tiny version of the world appears in his hands—not just a copy but an instance of the planet itself—and he just reaches down into it and plucks the item up. If someone were to happen to look up from the item’s location while he did it, they would see a planet-sized figure reaching down and lifting the item away into the heavens. And as it shrinks away into the distant sky, it simultaneously grows to appear in Danny’s own hand retracting from the globe.

That effect could also appear in a more subtle fashion when he travels - instead of zipping through the air, he seems to walk casually, yet each step moves him forward an immense distance across the planet (or beyond).

And when he fights, he’s unstoppable. His regular abilities are already tuned up to a million - cold powerful to bring a whole planet to basically absolute zero, his wail nearly tearing the fabric of universe ahead of him apart, etc. But you could also give him other fancier things based on being Ancient of Space or Ghost King like throwing around miniature stars or black holes, pulling people’s souls out of their bodies, etc. Hell, just the manipulation of space on its own would open up ridiculous numbers of possibilities - redirecting attacks (guaranteeing that his attacks hit and that others’ attacks miss (or are even turned back on themselves)), stretching/compressing space around someone to prevent them from moving, folding space to drop them into something hazardous like a supernova, etc.

Again, this is a version of Danny that’s meant to be godlike. I feel like his power should be able to majorly reshape the whole world around him (and thus you’d want/need to openly shown it as such for that fact to come across).

Even if he isn’t fighting, there’s also the more passive possibilities because like, his power doesn’t necessarily just vanish when not in use.

His aura is often shown freezing people under the weight of his power, but let’s take it further into the theme. It doesn’t just make them freeze, it forces them to experience all the different ways they could die. Or maybe it’s a bit more on the space side of things and they bear witness to the scale of the universe and heat death, all the stars burning out as their whole universe goes dark.

Then Danny apologizes and suddenly the visions recede and they realize that wasn’t even an intentional threat. His mere presence is just like that unless he actively realizes and holds himself back.

Or there could also be like, casual references to situations so beyond the heroes’ perceptions.

He’s summoned and mentions like “oh yeah I solved those threats to your planet for you” and they’re like “Wait, threats? Plural? There was more than one?!”

Because to them, those other threats were impossible to see coming (e.g. a really small, really distant asteroid that wasn’t visible to any telescopes yet, or their universe being on a collision course with something else in the Infinite Realms, or etc). But to Danny they were like… obvious issues with easy fixes (or maybe not easy per se but like, a normal part of the job).

[theneptuneflytrap]

Since new people are joining the Transformers fandom I thought I'd make a couple post's about different characters that can be seen in the background of TF: One. Specifically, I wanted to repost their original toy tech specs and their Marvel Bios. Firstly, Jazz:

Left: Jazz in Tf: One, Right: Jazz from the 1984 Marvel comics

His original toy tech spec reads: "Jazz loves Earth culture. Always looking to learn more. His knowledge of Earth makes him the indispensable right-hand man to Optimus Prime. Takes most dangerous missions. Very cool, very stylish, very competent. Equipped with photon rifle, flamethrower, full-spectrum beacon, 180db stereo speakers. Creates dazzling, disorienting sound and light shows. Versatile, clever, daring, but prone to be distracted".

His quote (most Western tf toys came with a quote): "Do it with style or don't bother doing it."

The following information is from Marvel's "Transformers Universe"

Function: Special Operations, Saboteur

Profile: "Jazz would be cruising down Bourbon Street in New Orleans or be double-parked outside a cellar club in Greenwich Village soaking up the local sounds if he weren't in the middle of a war. He's a confirmed Earthen culture junkie-he can talk fluently about ballet or break-dancing (although he prefers the latter), and he's always on the lookout for more stuff to turn on to. His knowledge of Earthen ways and his easy adaptability to Earthen environments make him the indispensable right-hand man of his commander, Optimus Prime. He's often given the most dangerous assignments, and, with characteristic coolness, usually pulls them off using something out of his seemingly bottomless bag of tricks. He'd rather dazzle you with style than accomplish a mission the easy way".

The abilities section is a near copy of the tech spec but it adds: "His biggest asset is the versatility and cleverness he possesses in using the resources at his disposal".

Finally, Weaknesses: "Although Jazz's fire-power and strength are weak relatives to that of some of the other Autobots, he more than compensates with his daring and skill. He's prone to be distracted from his primary assignment by Earthen behavior pattern that he finds interesting. this sometimes leads to disastrous consequences".

And there you go! I hope this gives any new fans a good idea about what he's like!

[bernardsbendystraws]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒛𝒐𝒏𝒆

⚠︎  mdni, smut, alcohol abuse, parental neglect, overall mature themes, and more [ this is made for all parts ]

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!!

with love and big tits, Rose Toy

©bernardsbendystraws

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Chapter 6: Your Favorite.

I had woken up to birds chirping and the sun streaking through the blinds. My body felt wonderful. My stomach didn’t ache, I wasn’t shivering, and his arms around me felt heavenly. It was Saturday–the day I was supposed to watch Mrs. Evans' kid, Hailey. 

I had yet to meet Hailey. She was only a toddler. Mrs. Evans had always wanted a family, but from my knowledge–her body didn’t make it easy for her to do so. Sometimes I wondered if she had ever resented my mother when I was a child. She spent countless hours playing with me, taking care of me how my mother just couldn’t. I barely remembered any of it, it made me feel guilty. 

Matt and I had decided to take Trevor for a walk, still in our pajamas. He had thrown a winter coat, gloves, and a beanie on my head. It was excessive, but the man would not let me walk outside without ‘reasonable’ layers. Ironically, he didn’t even have gloves or a hat on.

“What are your plans for today?” He asks. I let out a sigh, mentally running through my list of things to do. 

“Well,” I start. “--I have to go home before I babysit. That’s pretty much it.” I answer. My hands are sweating inside of the gloves. I pull them off, zipping them inside of the coat pocket. I look over, watching Matt give me a warning glare. “I’m sweating! See?” I say. 

I reach out my hand, placing it on his. He takes it, intertwining both of our hands together. “Okay, fine.” He remarks. He rolls his eyes, sighing in defeat as we continue down the cement path. “--but if you get sick, I told you so.” He huffs. 

I shake my head, laughing. Trevor trots on Matt’s opposite side, heavy pants being heard. We walk up to his front door as he swings it open. He bends down, unhooking the leash. Trevour immediately darts to the couch, sprawling on the sofa as if he was dead. I laugh at the sight in front of me, shedding off the multitude of layers. 

I slip out of my worn shoes, placing them neatly on the patterned mat. I begin shrugging off the large puffer coat, feeling Matt take it off my shoulders for me, placing it on the coat hook. “Thank you.” I mumble shyly. He gives me a curt nod. 

“I know mom wanted to show you her garden today, she’s starting her spring stuff in her greenhouse as we speak. Wanna go check it out?” He notices my eyes squinting down at him. “--I won’t make you put a bunch of layers back on, I promise.” He says. 

I raise my chin, questioning him. He shakes his head, laughing. He grabs my hand, dragging me until we reach the back door of the house. He slides open the door, the cool breeze feeling like air conditioning in the heat of summer. The green fabric feels slightly heavier on my back, a thin layer of sweat coating down my shoulders. 

“Come on, she’s probably in the greenhouse.” I follow Matt down the dirt path, into the woods behind his house. The path diverted into two separate ways, the right one to the lake he had taken me to previously. He turns left, holding my hand as he tows me along with him. 

I see a small greenhouse come into view. The shed has rustic wood for walls with a multitude of windows, all covered in dead stems, withered by the cold. I follow Matt as he walks through the propped-open door, seeing Marylou dumping a bag of soil into a pot. 

She looks up, noticing us. Her soft, melodic hums stop as a cheery smile spreads across her face. “Hey, kids! I was hoping to show you my greenhouse! Would you like to plant with me? I’m putting down some soil into these pots,” She motions towards the array of ceramic plant pots. “--I could definitely use some help.” She points out. 

I ecstatically nod my head, Matt scratching the back of his neck and looking back at me for confirmation. “Sure, mom. What do you want us to do?” He asks, guiding me to the table with the materials. 

“I need,” She points to a high shelf in the shed, one far beyond her reach or my own. “--that.” She says. Matt reaches up, grabbing down a wooden box filled with various seed packets. He sets it down on the table, dusting off his hands. 

“Now what?” He asks. Marylou pats his back, pushing him. He walks with her hands guiding him to the door.

“That’s all we need you for, bye! Love ya!” She says. Matt turns around on the other side of the doorway, holding up his hands questioningly. He opens his mouth, a slight syllable escaping his lips before the door shuts in his face. 

“Love ya to, ma!” He shouts sarcastically from the other side. Marylou turns back to me, a mischievous smile spread on her face. She walks back over, handing me a bag of soil and moving a pot in front of me. 

“Just put it in there, darlin’.” She directs. I roll up the sleeves of the expensive hoodie, standing hunched-over to protect the vibrant fabric. I cannot get this dirty. I take the cut-open bag, dumping it in the pot like she directs. 

“Ya know,” I look up, seeing her wandering around, gathering various tools. “--I really like you, you seem like a very sweet girl.” She mentions. I feel my cheeks heat up as I avert my eyes back to the task at-hand. 

“Thanks.” I mumble. I hear her shuffling around, her hands coming in my peripheral vision. I watch as her hand grazes my arm, her pointing finger landing on my forearm. 

My eyes widen in fear. The cigarette scar lays right beside her finger. “What’s this from? It almost looks like a burn–any crazy story?” She asks. 

I shake my head furiously, panic overtaking through my veins. “I…um…no–I don’t even remember how I got it, to be honest.” My voice comes out shaky, slightly higher pitched. I wince at the horrid attempt of lying, not able to bring my eyes up to meet hers. 

“Oh…” She trails off. “--the boys have a ton of crazy scars and stories–especially Matt.” She explains. I sigh in relief. Thank god she didn’t push. I bring my dirt-ridden hand up to the edge of the sleeve, pulling it down with the tips of my nails. I cover the scar with the sleeve, bringing my hands back  down to the pot. 

I hear a knock at the door, grabbing my attention. I watch as the creaky door shutters open, Matt pouting from the otherside. “Can I have her back yet?” He asks. 

I laugh at his innocent tone, looking over to see Marylou rolling her eyes. “Kids, am I right?” She jokes, shaking her head disappointedly at me. She huffs heavily. “Fine, I guess. I want her back when I plant my tulips though, Matthew Bernard.” She warns. 

My lips part as I choke back a laugh. “Mom!” Matt whines, burying his face in his hands with embarrassment. Bernard. He stomps over, grabbing my hand and tugging me behind him. I whip around, waving to Marylou as she stands, shaking her head with a smile. 

Matt guides us down the path, turning on the dirt path that leads us to the lake. “What are we doing?” I ask. He nods to the right, a tree coming into a view. A large willow, green leaves sprouting, barely peeking out from the branches. 

“It’s starting to bloom, look.” He points. 

My eyes stare at the tree, admiring the rarity. I hadn’t been to many places, I had never even been outside of Massechusets. I never had much time to explore, either. 

I loved seeing nature, large tree trunks accompanied by bushy leaves at the park by my old house in the less scenic town over. I had never seen a tree with so much personality, the branches dancing with the wind. 

“I’ve never actually seen one of these in person.” I breathe out. Matt raises his eyebrows at me, dragging me closer to the colossal wood. He stops right in front of the branches, parting them carefully with his hands. He nods his head, gesturing for me to walk. 

I weave under the dry branches, stopping as I stand in the empty space between the branches and the trunk of the tree. It had felt like a shield, mimicking the way my hair would often hang like curtains around my face. 

I hear the rustle of branches, watching as Matt steps through. His hand squeezes back into mine. I hesitantly reach out, letting my fingertips graze the rough bark lightly. “I’m deathly afraid of getting splinters, but this,” I shake my head in disbelief. “--this is just mesmerizing.” I remark. 

“Deathly afraid of splinters?” He laughs. I whip around, meeting his eyes as I squint at him. 

“Elevators?” I banter. He holds his hand up defensively, making me laugh. 

“What else are you scared of?” He whispers. I feel his chest press against my back, his hand squeezing my own as his other rubs along the side of my arm. 

I laugh nervously. “Spiders, needles, any insect really…um…” I trail off, feeling his chuckles vibrate against my back. “Shut up.” I mutter. I feel his laugh grow more intensely, his lips breaking as the sounds reach my ears. 

“Why are you deathly scared of splinters? I don’t understand.” He laughs. I shrug my shoulders, a sadness washing over me as I feel myself detach. His laughs die down, his head peeking over my shoulder. His face is sympathetic. “I’m kidding–I mean, I’m scared of elevators.” He jokes. 

I let the smile crawl back up on my face. “Well, that’s rational–you could fall and plummet to your–sorry.” I say, watching his eyes widen with horror. I made it worse. I sigh, looking at the splintered bark in front of me with heavy shoulders. 

I feel his hand squeeze my own, bringing my attention back up to him. His eyes gleam down at me with sorrow written in his face. “Ya know,” He brushes the hair behind my neck, making my body tingle from his breath. “--I’ve always wanted to carve a heart into a tree with someone. Chris and Nick never would, they think it’s stupid. But,” His nose nuzzles on the rim of my ear, my body tensing from the sensation. “--maybe we could do it together sometime.” 

I crane my head up, looking up at him. His eyes meet mine with admiration. “I’d like that.” I blush. He gives me a small smile, leaning his head down to rest against the back of my own. 

“M’kay, ready to head back inside? I don’t want you to get too cold.” His hand returns, rubbing up and down my arm. I laugh at his remark. Cold? His body heat radiated onto me, warming me better than any jacket I had ever owned. 

“Sure.” I responded. His body heat dissipates as I hear the crunch of his shoes against the dirt. I turn around, watching as he opens the branches like a curtain. 

“Come on, princess.” He teases. I blush at the name, walking through the void. I feel his hand clasp around my wrist as I stand beneath his raised arm. I look up, watching his eyes hungrily gaze down at my lips. 

I smile, letting him drag my hand up to his chest. My palm lays flat on his chest, his hand enclosing on top of mine. I push my toes down, bringing my heels up as I lean onto him. I peck his lips swifty, backing up to see his eyes closed and his lips still semi-puckered. 

I laugh at his reaction, making his eyes snap open. His face is overcome with a proud joy, gleaming with admiration. I let my feet relax, but my foot twists as it lands on the uneven surface. I shriek, feeling myself stumble. 

Matt’s hand drops my own, his arm tugging me immediately back to his chest. He leans down, his breath fanning across my nose in the slightest. I let out whispered breaths. “Caught ya.” He remarks. I feel my smile return to my face as I flail my arm back to his chest. 

As soon as I move my arm, a rough sting is apparent on my forearm. The burning sensation pricks me, making me whimper in pain. Matt pulls my body up to his with his arm, guiding us out of the curtained-branches and to the field of grass. 

“Hey,” he reaches out, grabbing my arm from my grasp. I watch as my vision becomes blurry from tears. I gasp as he gently pulls my arm in between the two of us. A large thorn, embedded in his hoodie. His three-hundred dollar hoodie. 

My bottom lip quivers as the sight in front of me intensifies, sending fear and panic through every pore of my body. I ruined it. The slight stain of red becomes more apparent, seeping into the green fabric with high contrast. 

“I-I—I’m so so so sorry, Matt. I-” He shushes me, pulling me into his chest in a hug. One of his arms wrapped around me, caging me against him. I push back, only for his hand to enclose around my head with a firm grip. “Matt–”

“Shhh, don’t look.” His voice is comforting and gentle. His firm grip gets tighter as I attempt to push myself back. “Matt-” Is this it? Is this where his gentle touch disappears? 

I wince from the burning sensation, feeling yet another prick. I can’t help the tears from falling from my eyes, soaking onto his sweatshirt. “Shhhh…I got you, it’s gone, look.” His grip falls back down to my waist as he holds a bloodied-thorn in his hand. 

My eyes widen, immediately darting to the hoodie. I yank the sleeve up above the wound, letting the crimson paint down my arm, dripping slowly from the shallow wound. “Hey, you’re gonna get cold.” Matt states, yanking the hoodie back down. 

I gasp, watching a streak of red appear. “Matt! It’s gonna-” “I don’t care, it’s just a hoodie. Now, let’s get the first aid kit and take care of ya, yeah?” He states, pulling me by the waist. 

I feel my ears go hot from embarrassment. I’m fucking crying over a splinter. I should be profusely apologizing for destroying his things. 

I choke back my tears, clearing my throat. “Matt, I–,” the quiet shaking in my voice makes him turn his head, analyzing me. He supports my weight, walking quicker as he slides open the back door. “--I’m really sorry.” I state, letting it out in one breath. 

Matt shakes his head, placing his hands on my hips. I squeal, feeling my feet lift off the ground. He pushes me back, sitting me on the cold counter. I look up, willing the tears to crawl back inside. I hear a drawer open, metal clanking as I look over to see him holding a first aid box-kit. 

“I’m really sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean to-” The words get caught in my throat. He takes out an alcohol wipe, ripping it open with his teeth as his other hand rubs up and down my thigh. “It’s okay, really. I’m not upset in the slightest, okay?” I nod hesitantly at his words, watching as he reaches out with the alcohol pad. 

I scoot back on the counter, leaning my body weight away. It’s gonna hurt, I know it’s gonna hurt. Why do I have to be so weak when it comes to pain? 

“Hey,” His hand wraps around my thigh, keeping me in place. “”--it’ll hurt, but then it’s gonna feel better. I have to clean it.” 

It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna hurt. 

“Here, come here.” He opens his arms. I fling myself into them, latching around his neck desperately. His hand grabs my arm, pulling it down and to the side. I feel the burning sting, whimpering from the pain as I attempt to keep my arm still for him. 

Please, don’t think I’m weak. 

I loosen my grip, feeling the cool air on the wound. I hear another rip, seeing as he places a bandaid over the red area. I look down in shame. Why do I have to be so weak?

“I’m sorry for crying and being a baby. I’m especially sorry for ruining your hoodie.” I run my clammy hand against the top of my thigh. His hand pushes my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his. His gaze softened, a slight pout apparent on his lips. 

“Don’t. You don’t need to apologize for anything. It’s a piece of clothing–” 

“It was your favorite.” I retort. He shakes his head, letting out a sigh. 

“I can have a new favorite.” He remarks with a soft smile. I nod, trying to blink back the tears. “--if you need to cry–cry, it’s okay.” He soothes. I shake my head, looking up towards the ceiling. 

“I don’t want to cry.” I let out. My body betrays me, a stream of hot tears running down and into my scalp. Matt wipes the tears gently with the sleeve of his sweater. “Why not? It’s just me.” He points out. I wipe under my eyes with my fingers. “I don’t want you to think I’m weak.” I laugh out dryly. 

I let my eyes shift to his. He shakes his head, a smile tugging on his lips. “I don’t think you’re weak.” He breathes out. “You don’t?” I interrogate. He shakes his head, “Elevators aren’t even in my top five fears and I almost had a panic attack. If anything, I think you’re strong.”

He brushes the hair back as I look into his eyes. The fear started subsiding as a comforting wave of relief washed over me. “You okay?” I nod my head as he places his hands on my hips. I let him help me off the counter, but he doesn’t set me on the floor. 

My legs wrap around him as he starts walking to his room. “What are you doing?” I ask, grappling onto his neck. His shoulders shrug from beneath my arms. “Distracting you, returning the favor.” He says. He shuts his room door closed with his foot.

I cling onto him, feeling his body crouch and lay on the bed. I go to sit up, maneuver myself off of him, but he pulls me closer. “Wanna watch a dumb show again?” I smile, nodding as he grabs his phone out. He props it against his cologne bottle, pressing play on ‘Too Hot To Handle.’ 

His hand comes back, cradling my head to his chest as I listen to the thumps of his heartbeat. 

_

I had woken up to screaming, Chris’s voice echoing in the house. I felt Matt stir from beneath me, pulling me closer as his lips pressed against my head. Soft snores escaped his parted lips, making my heart flutter from the sound. 

I giggle, pushing myself up and off of Matt’s chest. Matt huffs, his hand curling around my entire head, suctioning to my ear. “Ignore them, ‘m sorry.” I laugh at his lazy words, squirming out of his grip. I watch as his eyes squint open, his hands rubbing his face. “Come back.” He voices. 

I lean over him, feeling his arms wrap around my waist as I reach for my phone on his nightstand. I grab the device, pulling myself back. Matt pulls me down, crushing my nose against his chest. “Ow.” I say. His eyes darted open, his face grimacing as I held my nose. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, his hands untangling from my waist. I move freely, sitting up against his head board. 

6:00 P.M. 

“I need to leave for babysitting soon. I have to walk home and then to Mrs. Evans house.” I say. Matt groans, flipping on his stomach and letting his arm fall over my lap. I laugh, lifting the limb and standing up. Matt’s head pops out from the pillow, his hair aloof. I smile at the sight, watching as he climbs out of bed. 

He walks over to his closest, pulling out a knit, buttoned, purple sweater. He hands it over to me as I grab the fabric hesitantly. “I’m going home, I don’t–” He holds up a hand, “It’s for my own selfish reasons, okay?” I laugh at his bluntness, nodding my head. 

“Can you just cover your eyes or something? I really do need to leave. I probably needed to leave a bit ago, honestly.” I remark. His hands cover his face as he lets his neck drop, facing the ground. I pull off the green hoodie, sighing at the red stain. I let the soft, knit sweater envelope around me. 

It’s so soft. “Oh my god, this is so soft.” I voice. I look down at the fabric that pools over the pajama pants I had yet to change out of. My dry skin admires the smooth fabric, my arms moving without an uncomfortable scratching feeling as I fold the green hoodie. 

Matt reaches out, grabbing the sweatshirt and throwing it onto the opposite side of the bed. “Don’t worry about it. Want some sweats–actually, don’t answer that. I’m giving you sweats.” I laugh at his statement. He pulls a pair of clean sweats down, handing them to me. 

I look at him knowingly. “Oh, yeah.” He covers his face, looking towards the ground. I let the pajamas fall off my legs, pulling on the sweats and tying the drawstring tightly, securing them on my hips to the best of my abilities. The fabric pools at the ground beneath my feet. 

“Uh, Matt?” He unveils his face, looking in the direction of my pointed finger. “I don’t think they–” I stop as he kneels to the floor. His hands reach out, folding the fabric until it comes to my ankle. He does the same to the other side, the neat folds not budging as I wiggle my foot in the air. 

“Thank you,” I said. He nods his head, holding out his hand for me. I place my hand in his, allowing him to guide me to the front door. He slips on his own shoes as I do the same. I look around, the room barren of a single person. “Can you tell your mom I said bye?” 

“Mhm, now let’s go.” I tilt my head at him as he grabs his keys. “Huh? I have to babysit—I’m walking home and then to the place.” He shakes his head. “No–I’m driving you home and then I’m driving you to whatever the address is for the house you’re babysitting at.” He pulls the coat from the coat rack. “--and put this on, you’ll be cold.’’ He pulls out my arm, sliding it in the arms of the coat and doing the same on the other side. 

He steps in front of me, his hands bringing the zipper of the jacket all the way below my chin. “Matt, you don’t need to–” His intense stare makes my words falter. “I’m not letting you walk, let’s go.” He pulls me by the hand out the door and to his car. 

I pull down the zipper, the warmth already becoming overbearing. Matt opens the car door for me as I sit in the passenger seat. He grabs the seatbelt, leaning over me and clicking it in. His eyes fall below my face, his hands reaching out and pulling the zipper. I feel the cold metal brush against my chin as he pulls away, shutting the door softly. 

I laugh quietly to myself, hearing his door open and shut. He turns the heat on, starting to drive. I pull down the zipper. I gasp, feeling the car come to a semi-abrupt stop. “What are you doing! You’re gonna get cold.” Matt mutters, reaching for the zipper. 

I push his hand away. “Matt,” I put his hand on the center console. “I’m sweating, okay? I’m gonna faint from heat exhaustion at this rate.” I state. His lips purse as he sways his head. “Okay.” He says softly, pulling off the brake. 

I watch as he reaches out, turning the AC down. I open up the coat, my fingers fiddling with the hem of the soft sweater. 

_

“Can I have a fourth wish, genie?” He asks. I look over, watching his hands turn the wheel. “Please.” He adds. 

I laugh at the question. “Sure, what’s your wish?” I urge. He pulls onto my street, my house visible from the few streetlights. He pulls over in front of my house, parking the car. He takes the keys out of the ignition, looking over at me. 

“Let me come in?” His eyes wander up. I look back, seeing the wooden house that seems almost abandoned. I sigh, looking back at him as his innocent smile plastered across his face. “Please.” He repeats. I suck in my bottom lip. 

Should I? Is my dad even here? 

“Pleaseeee. I just wanna see your room–plus, parents love me! I’m so cute, look!” He cheeses hard at me, making my giggle ring through the car. “That’s a yes, right? Great, come on!” He doesn’t give me time to respond as he gets out of the car, practically sprinting over to open my door. 

He pulls me up, dragging me to the front door as I pull out my keys. “Wait just one second, okay?” He nods, his arms swinging by his sides impatiently. I crack the door open, seeing nothing but darkness. I flick on the flights, seeing a barren living room. I listen for any sounds, hearing nothing but the wind pushing against the windows. 

I look back at him, nodding for him to follow. I shut the door behind us. “I just need to grab a couple things from my room, my dad might be in his room though–just,” I stop him at the bottom of the stairs. “--wait here for a minute.” He nods. 

I take a deep breath, the stairs creaking beneath my feet as I place one foot in front of the other. Reaching the top, I knock on his door. Silence meets me, but I don’t trust it. I slowly open the door, wincing at a screech of the rusted metal door hinges. 

I peek my head through the door, seeing him. He looks over at me blankly, a cigarette between his lips as he sits on the window sill. “What do you want? He grumbles. I feel my stomach churn at the sight of smoke falling from his lips. I bite back my tongue, shaking my head as I close the door with a soft thud. 

I look down at Matt, motioning for him to follow with my pointer finger pressed against my lips. He nods, walking up the steps quietly. I wait for him to reach the top of the stairs, swallow thickly as I look back at his door. 

I sigh, letting my shoulders sink with defeat. I walk towards my room, opening the door and shutting it as he walks through. I feel a boulder of embarrassment sink in my gut. I watch as his steps falter, scared to move as he analyzes the room. 

The twin mattress is on a cheap, metal frame in the center of the room. A ratted blanket is covering the mattress, the baby blue knitted blanket laying at the top by the singular pillow that lays flat and deflated. 

My anxiety shoots through my body as I watch him turn around. His eyebrows furrow before his lips tug into a slight smile. “Ya know,” he walks over closer to me. “--a stuffed animal would really make this feel more home-y.” He says. 

I tilt my head, holding back a smile. “Shut up.” I mumble, shoving past him and into the sliding closet. I pull out jeans, pulling down a bin full of my underwear. I shuffle around, pulling clothing out and into my hands. 

I hear Matt clear his throat, looking up to see him scratching the back of his neck nervously. He sucks in his lips between his teeth, avoiding my eyes. “You should, um…” I set the clothes down, crossing my arms over my chest. I raise an eyebrow at him as he meets my gaze. “You should bring some clothes over, just in case we wanna have more sleepovers unexpectedly, ya know?” He finishes. 

I hold back a laugh, shaking my head. I grab more underwear and bras out of the bin, placing them in my backpack. “Tired of me stealing all of yours?” I tease. 

“Nope, but I don’t exactly have women's underwear.” He holds up his hands in defense. My cheeks burn as I lick over my teeth. 

“Really?” I ask. My eyes flicker to his, watching as his eyes squint at me. “--I would’ve thought you had tons!” I remark sarcastically. He brings his hand up, smoothing over his forehead. 

“I–” His words are cut off by a pounding on the door. My eyes widen with fear, my fists clenching to my stomach. The door swings open a crack, my dad peeping his head in. “Listen, I’m sorry for–who is this?” He looks over to Matt, opening the door further. 

Matt gives a subtle wave, scratching at the back of his neck shyly. “I’m Matt, nice to meet you.” My dads eyes squint at him, cocking his head to the side. 

“Do I know you?” He asks. Matt shakes his head, “Nope, we just go to school together–I was gonna drive her to her babysitting job.” He answers. My dad hesitantly nods his head, looking back over at me. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?” He asks, his eyes staring down at me. 

I look back at Matt, giving him a small smile before walking out the open door. I hear my dad close it, dragging me down the hallway gently by my shoulder. “Who is that boy?” He interrogates. I shrug, “Matt–he’s a friend of mine, that’s all.” I answer. He furrowed his eyebrows, raising them as he rubbed his creased forehead. 

“Okay, just–no having sex, okay?” 

“Dad!” I whisper-shout. My eyes bulge out of my head as a heat of embarrassment and anger clouds my body. The audacity. “I can take care of myself, remember?” I spit. He moves his eyes, staring at the wall behind me with a sullen look on his face. 

“I…” he huffs. “--’m sorry, okay? I’m trying, I’m really fucking trying. I just–it’s really hard when you look more like her everyday. It hurts. I swear, I only bought cigs to curb the craving, okay? I…I never want to hurt you, not again.” He grabs out, caressing my forearm with his bottom lip pouted. 

My eyes swell with tears. Relief makes my breath fall with my shoulders. I look like her. Is that a blessing or a curse? “I…” I suck in a breath. “--I’ll do better with staying out of your business.” I say. He mumbles gratitude under his breath, patting my shoulder. 

“Okay, get to your babysitting whatnot. Are you coming home tonight?” He asks. I shrug, watching as he nods softly, walking in his own bedroom and closing the door. I sigh deeply, letting my feet float back to my room. 

I open the door, watching as Matt sits on my bed. His hand is caressing over the baby blue blanket with a soft face. “Ready to go?” He asks. I nod my head. 

I let my hand reach out. He stands up, walking over and placing his hand in mine. I smile at the comforting touch. He grabs my backpack from the floor, tossing it on his shoulder. I step out, leading us back down and out the door. 

_

I had put the address into his phone, holding it up for him to see the directions. Once he had parked on the side of the street, he sprinted out and opened my door for me. I grab his hand, giggling as he pulls me out of the car. 

My heart feels warm, my chest feels light, everything seems to be getting better. It’s not gonna last though, is it?

I shake off the thought as he walks me to the door. “Thank you for driving me. Really, you didn’t have to.” I say. He shrugs his shoulders, pulling me into his side. Before he can say anything, the front door swings open, revealing Mrs. Evans and her husband. 

“Hello! Oh–hi, Matt!” Mrs. Evans greets. Her husband grumbles something about getting the car from the garage, walking past us with a friendly smile. She grabs a purse, her sweater and jeans contrasting with her typical attire at school. She fixes her earring before clasping her hands together. “Will Hailey be having another buddy to hang out with, hm?” She questions. 

I watch as little hands grab at Mrs. Evans side, a small girl peeping her head around. Her brown, curly hair is done up in two pigtails with beads. Her brown skin, like most kids, looks buttery-soft. Her doe eyes look like honey from the porch light gleaming down on her. “I like your hair.” I compliment. The little girl blushes, hiding her face behind Mrs. Evans legs. 

“I get two friends, mom?!” Hailey exclaims, tugging on Mrs. Evans sweater. I let out an awkward laugh. “Well, he’s not staying, it’s just me.” I explain. Hailey’s smile falters, her eyes landing on Matt. 

“You don’t wanna be my friend?” Her eyes are teary as Matt immediately shakes his head. “No–I’d love to be your friend…” His eyes darted to mine with panic. “He’s just busy–” Hailey cuts me off, tugging Matt’s hand inside. 

Mrs. Evans laughs, holding her purse tightly as she rummages through the bag quickly. “The envelope on the counter is for you. I think I have everything,” she looks over, headlights beaming from behind me. “Okay, our reservation is in like ten minutes and it’s a fifteen minute drive. We’ll be back in around two hours-ish?” She walks off. “Just text if you need anything! Matt’s welcome to stay with you!” She winks before shutting the car door. 

I bite back a smile as I wave, walking into the house and shutting the door. I look up, my eyes bulging and my hand slapping over my mouth. I attempt to hold back the giggles, seeing Matt with wide-eyes sitting on the couch, Hailey decorating his hair with colorful beads and bows. 

“Do I look pretty?” He nervously asks. I nod, sitting on the couch next to him. “Very.” I answer. “You don’t, you don’t have to stay.” I point out. He shakes his head, “I want to, well–if that’s okay with you.” I nod my head, leaning my head on his shoulder as Hailey hums a song while fiddling with the bows in his hair above us. 

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[ihhfhonao3]

Hey y'all just a little bot psa!

Obviously we all know that Tumblr is shit with managing bots. but this is a bit of a bigger issue. Cuz this isn't just a robot posting naked people in the fandom tags, now they're outright stealing posts.

Two examples are below, but I saw another a couple days ago of another bot stealing fanart. once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but three times is a pattern.

Take a look at the posts and tags, then their posters and times posted. In case it wasn't obvious, @/leggalese and @/aceattorneygamesfan are the original posters of both posts, with these bots copying them word-for-word, tag-for-tag a little bit later. What makes it worse is that leggalese's post was their own fanart. like, they MADE that. with their own hands. and then some bot swooped in and took it.

So I guess this is just a PSA to double check the poster of the fanart you're reblogging, and also for artists to watermark their stuff when possible so nobody can truly "take" it. It helps that @/leggalese is pretty popular in this fandom, so I recognized their artstyle, but it isn't always easy to tell with smaller artists.

afaik, this has only happened with image posts, but look out for bots copying textposts too.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

A Seat on the Table

02/22/2025

Pairing: Freakzier (Dinner & Diatribes!Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,711

Warnings: dom/sub, fingering, orgasm denial, fire play, penetration, bodily fluids, talk of oral (f receiving)

Summary: When a dark and handsome stranger visits your restaurant over and over again, you realise he is hungry for more than just a steak en flambé.

A/N: Gosh, this really gave me a hard time. I truly hope I created something enjoyable.

Picture: edited screenshot from the Dinner & Diatribes music video

If you enjoy my story, liking is great, but leaving a comment or reblogging is the stuff that keeps me going. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

He was not one of your regulars, yet his visits always followed a certain pattern, his very own ritual. It all started the second he entered the small business you called your own, the moment he glided through that door and entered your territory with ease, the cold following his tall figure like a shadow, a welcome contrast to the heat that befell you as soon as his dark eyes landed on you. They were almost black, matching his thick brows and slicked back hair, maybe even his soul, you thought from time to time. Especially when you were close to him, his eyes turning even darker while he held your gaze, a deep, bottomless black that drew you in, and should you ever tumble and fall, it would be a fall without end. The scariest thing however was that you weren’t entirely sure if that was a bad thing.

Still you usually busied yourself with anything that would keep your eyes away from his by lighting the candles, pouring him some water or whipping out your notepad and pen, an unnecessary gesture by now, as he always ordered the exact same dish, steak en flambé, rare, nothing on the side, no vegetables, no salad, just the flaming meat and a glass of the most full-bodied red wine you had to offer.

It was an odd ritual, with you involuntarily being the main act, at his insistence. Usually the chef would flambé personally at the table, but thanks to your customer oriented policy, that was your job now. An unnerving task really. Not because of the task itself. Handling fire did not scare you, if anything this was the part that excited you a little. The heat, the sudden burst of light when the liquids caught fire, the curious stares of the other guests, even a surprised gasp every now and then, it was electrifying. But none of this could come even close to the real spectacle which was happening unnoticed by anyone. Anyone except you. 

You did not blame them for not seeing it. He was the kind of person people usually avoided gazing at for too long. It was not so much the risk of getting caught staring, you supposed, but the unease that inevitably befell anyone who did not avert their eyes in time. It had also befallen you, many times, causing a shudder to run down your spine every time. But somehow, over time it had lost its alerting nature and turned into something different, something primal, that unsettled you even more than any sign of danger you might have ever gotten from him. 

To ease the shame that always followed, you had told yourself many times that it was merely the process of getting used to his presence, a very normal reaction of your body, but no matter how much you wanted to believe those words, it was in the very moment the flames came to life that you knew you were lying to yourself. It was abundantly clear, the way your body betrayed you as soon as his eyes lit up with a rush of excitement that washed over his face when you set the food alight. Maybe it was just the reflection of the flames, but if you watched closely, you could observe something else in the blackness of his orbs, something that went much deeper, and more than once you felt yourself aching to find out what it was. 

It was not easy to notice in a face that always seemed inhumanly blank, completely void of any emotion. Even when he smiled, nothing more than a faint twitch of his thick moustache above his full lips, an occasion as rare as snow in July, it did not carry the slightest touch of sentiment. Still it was there, one fleeting moment in which it became visible in his eyes, a bright spark against the darkness, gone again as quickly as it had appeared. Blink and you would have missed it. And once you had seen it, it was impossible to forget. 

And even after your job was done and you turned from him to walk away and let him enjoy his dish in peace, he did not let you go. At first you had felt silly, like a pathetic attention seeker who thought the entire world revolved around them, but whenever you turned, fully expecting to find your premonition unconfirmed, you found his eyes fixed on you as he gracefully filled his mouth with delicious bite after bite, never blinking once, until you were not sure anymore if he was lustfully devouring the still bloody piece of meat on his plate or if the actual feast he desired was something entirely different.

His visits were always like this, always intense and a little unsettling, maybe even creepy at times, but the tips were more than generous. And as a businesswoman that was essentially what you should care about, right? Money — and the satisfaction of your customer, of course. 

The satisfaction of your customer…well, it had turned out that he had not been as satisfied as you had thought him to be when one day he had left a little more than a substantial tip for you. Next to the notes there had been an envelope, thick and heavy, but despite its weight it had trembled in your hand, the knife in your other shaking equally as much as you slid the tip of the blade underneath the edge of the folded paper. You did not know what exactly you had expected, a love letter maybe, however out of character that would have been, but the actual contents fitted his controlled demeanour much better. It was…a suggestion, one could say, along with a contract and an equally detailed set of instructions should you choose to accept his offer.  

Out of the question. You had been sure about that decision from the beginning. But a few restless days and haunted nights later, your decisiveness had begun to crumble until it had been worn so thin that it had hung by a mere thread. Black and shiny, just like the line of ink that spelled out your name in handwritten letters underneath the contract now. The paper lay steady in his left hand as his eyes studied the signature carefully, caressing it equally as tenderly as the tips of his slender fingers that slowly drifted along the letters. Then he nodded, barely even so, and folded the paper up neatly before he let it vanish inside his black jacket. 

All the while you just stood by his side and watched him carefully, watched as he sat down at the table, the only one that was laid in an otherwise completely deserted restaurant, and took his time to inspect everything. The table in front of him was almost empty, atop the plain white cotton table cloth sat nothing but a glass of his favourite wine, another glass, much smaller in size and filled exactly as he had ordered, a bowl which unlike his usual taste held nothing but a few marshmallows and next to it a wooden skewer and a box of matches.

Everything else he had requested was neatly laid out on a separate table to his right and no matter how much your eyes were drawn towards the promising display of utensils, you did not dare to take a glance. You knew full well what it would do to you, the way it would excite you and make you slip, and you could not gamble away your own satisfaction so foolishly. 

Still it was torture, standing this close, and yet being unable to reach out and take what you desired with a might that frightened you. Instead it was him who reached out, his fingers closing around the paper box. He did not say a single word as his eyes found your own and then fell towards the shot glass in a silent order. And you obeyed. You could hear him take in a deep breath as you flicked your wrist, dragging the head of the match along the side of the box, and he kept on holding it, all the while as the flame came alive with a hiss and you lowered your arm to light the strong liquor. But as soon as the blue flames danced on the surface he moved, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist and bring the match close to his face. He held it there for a while, watching the flame burn up the wood, creeping closer and closer towards your fingertips. You could feel it now, the heat that leapt at your skin, the slight sting that warned you to let go and just as you thought about yanking your hand away, his eyes locked with yours and he finally released the breath he had been holding the entire time to extinguish the flame. 

With a gasp you let go of the smoking remains, a mere instinct, as was his reaction when he released your wrist, his other hand snapping forward to catch the burnt up match mid-air before it could reach his lap. Your pulse was hammering in your ears, the wild beating of your heart probably visible against the thin fabric of your blouse, your chest challenging the line of buttons with every ragged breath you took. 

He stayed unexpectedly calm though, his eyes already drawn away from the match that lay abandoned on the side table by now. In his hand he held the skewer now, and it seemed he had just waited to regain your full attention before he slowly impaled one of the marshmallows. But you did not even manage to watch long enough for the fluffy treat to reach the flames before your eyes fell closed with a shuddering breath. You could feel him, the light touch of his free hand burning hot against the back of your thigh. It was excruciating. Not the touch itself, but the painfully tardy pace with which his fingers wandered along your skin, upwards, higher and higher, ever so slowly, finally passing the hem of your skirt, and still never stopping, not even faltering once, until they reached the supple flesh of your bare bottom. Greedily his fingers dug into it, caressing, kneading, every motion designed to wind you up further, as far as he desired, and your body soon let him know he had succeeded. Your legs fell open, and there was no hesitation when he let his fingers dive between them, following the call of your heat. And what he found must have pleased him, judging from the soft growl that escaped his lips the second he found your sex bare, yet another of his requests you had fulfilled to his utmost satisfaction. 

His movement pleased you just as much, coaxing wanton moans from your throat that reverberated on the walls of the empty restaurant as he worked you. It was just the right pressure, just the right motion, making you so wet that his fingers soon composed the lewdest squelching sounds. But then all too soon his fingers retreated, leaving you bare, confused and frustrated. The icy whiff of air against your wet mound also did nothing to console you. You wanted to protest, to demand he would finish what he started, the words already forming on your tongue, and yet as your eyes opened all that was needed was one look from him to make you swallow them for good. He knew exactly what you wanted, but he would not give it to you. Not yet. 

Instead he reached out for you again, grasping your wrist once more and guiding it towards your pulsing sex. If you wanted pleasure, you would have to provide it yourself. Whereas he…well, he would just lean back, lazily twisting his bronzing marshmallow above the flames as he watched you continuing what he had started. There was no sign of any emotion on his face, no hint of any thought that might have crossed his mind behind those gloomy eyes. And it frustrated you even more than the loss of his touch. 

If you were completely honest with yourself, this was exactly what had given you the last push to agree to all of this and sign that contract. You wanted to see his restrained facade crack and crumble, wanted to see him come apart when he finally took what he so obviously craved most. And yet here you were, watching him enjoy his food once more while you were left to tend to your needs yourself. Maybe this would help, you hoped, as your fingers found the buttons of your blouse. One after the other you unlatched them, just enough to free your breasts, your buds already hardened and ready to be teased. Not enough to tempt him though, it seemed, as all he did was take a sip of his wine. At least he did not lose interest and look away. You had to celebrate the small victories with this one. You had to remind yourself that he was not like the others who had come before him, that much had been clear from the very first time he had set foot into this restaurant. And you would not want it any other way. It was that very memory of your first encounter that was enough to send a tiny shock through your core, enough to let your fingers pick up the pace and chase that high his touch had promised. 

It was building, steadily, the knot tightening further and further under his watchful gaze and yet it were not your skilled fingers that promised release but him, once again. Your eyes were just about to fall shut, keeping out the distractions of the world so everything that remained would be the turmoil of pleasure inside you, when they caught an unexpected movement. Slowly his fingers worked, twisting the caramelised marshmallow at the end of the skewer while he blew a cooling breath from a pair of pursed, pink lips. And just as they opened to let the crunchy treat in, you could feel his gaze on you. You felt hot, tempted to tear your eyes away from his mouth and gaze into the dark abyss, ready to finally fall, and yet you could not. Hypnotised you watched the marshmallow disappear behind his pearly white teeth, the creamy filling spilling out between them, a sight so sinful and strangely obscene, you knew it would take you over the edge, but yet again he moved, swiftly, locking your wrist in an unrelenting grip and denying you once more what had been within reach just a second ago. 

You wanted to scream, to protest and curse him, still not a single word was uttered. Not by you, and not by him. Not when his fingers worked to flick the remaining buttons of your blouse open, not when his fingertips brushed along the silky skin of your shoulders to free you from the white fabric, not even when they unzipped that tight skirt, grazing your hip seemingly by accident as they moved to bare every last inch of your body to him. And yet you knew exactly what he wanted you to do while he let the black jacket glide from his shoulders. It was time to take your place, the one that had been meant for you from the very beginning. You inhaled sharply as your cheeks met the cool cotton of the table cloth and you could have been mistaken, but for the blink of an eye you could have sworn that there was the tiniest hint of a smile dancing on his lips. But he did not leave you any time to think about it as he had begun to neatly roll up his sleeves. It was torture, watching him reveal inch after inch of white flesh to you, richly decorated with veins so prominent you would have given your soul to the devil himself if he had allowed you to trace them with your tongue. 

Next you would tend to his jawline that stuck out so prominently right now while the side of his face was turned to you, his hands busy clearing the table around you. You would enjoy the taste of it, the scratchy feel against your tongue, following the sharp contour all the way from his ear to the tempting dimple in his chin. The mere thought made you shiver, a fact that went unnoticed by him. He was still busy bringing all the utensils he had brought in place on the side table. Watching him work with such precision and poise was somehow soothing, a stark contrast to the feelings that were battling inside of you when your eyes flicked to the instruments he was laying in place. There was a bowl he had filled with colourless liquid, and another one that held a few fluffy cotton balls. Next to a can of hair mousse he had placed a barbecue lighter and a cylindric vessel that held two fire wands of which only the shiny handles were visible. The heads were hidden away at the bottom of the container, but you knew they were there. Just as you knew there were all sorts of different safety equipment close by. Still you preferred not to think about it too much. There was a risk, you were more than aware of that, and to a certain extent it added to the thrill of the entire scenario, but you would not allow fear to spoil this for you.

Nothing would go wrong. He would not let it. You knew that he had done this before, how often you could not tell for sure, but often enough to leave nothing to circumstance. It had not been by accident that he had chosen you, and the professionalism of his approach, the contract, the instructions, the detailed information of what he would do to you were more than reassurance enough that you were in the best hands possible. 

A sigh escaped your lips as one of them found you now. Its touch was barely palpable, nothing but an inkling. He moved slowly, taking his time to drink you in, your naked form, expectant and wanting, writhing under the mere promise of his touch. Like a snake sure of its prey his hand slithered along your body, your stomach, the valley of your breasts, until it found what it had been looking for all along.

His grip around your neck was strangely cold, making the wave of heat it sent rushing through your body feel even hotter as he pulled you towards himself. It pulsed and rolled, headed straight for your core, your walls clenching around agonising nothingness just when you thought his lips would meet yours. But they did not. And yet he was so close that you could still taste the heat of his breath on your tongue as the air rolled out of his mouth and into yours. 

He held you like this for a while, two dark orbs staring directly into your soul. They were green, you realised now, not black, with the tiniest hint of brown. Like a forest lake, you thought, and as he suddenly raised his eyebrow, you knew he was daring you to jump. And with a silent nod of your head you did. 

His hand guided you down, keeping your back from arching on instinct as it hit the chilly cotton, while his palm firmly pressed against your skin and travelled along the length of your body. You wanted it to stay there, wanted to feel it explore every inch of you, every hill and every valley, wanted it to knead and pinch, to smack and caress until your moans would drown out every other noise, your voice hoarse and raspy.

But of course it did not. For what he had planned for tonight, he needed both of his hands free. And still your heart clenched in your chest as you watched him retreat. There was no hurry in his movement as he stepped around the table and came to a stop beside you. For a while he just stood there, watching you, waiting. For what, you did not know, but you were not sorry for the time it allowed you to take him in. He was gorgeous, almost regal with his slim face and high cheekbones, and the aura of control and dominance he exuded only added to that impression. But there was something else to his expression, it was hardly visible, and yet it was there. And when it suddenly dawned on you, you could feel the heat creep into your cheeks. He was not just standing there to be gawped at, he was waiting for you to follow his instructions and his patience seemed to be wearing thinner by the second. 

Hurrying to correct your mistake you raised your arms above your head. Immediately his gaze softened, the slightest twitch of the corners of his mouth pleasing you more than any good girl from his lips ever could have. It meant the same anyway. He was satisfied with you and in turn he would give you what you desired, what you had been waiting for for so long now. It was close, your pleasure almost within reach now as he picked up one of the cotton balls and slowly dipped it into the bowl. You knew what was about to come, but however much you braced yourself against the icy touch of the liquid on your skin, you could not suppress the shiver that took hold of your entire body as he drew the soaked tissue along your stomach in a straight line. 

Watchful eyes searching your own for any last concerns, he blindly swapped the cotton ball for the barbecue lighter. Not once did he let you out of his sight, not even to blink, and you did not dare to blink either. Every fibre of your body was tensing up. This was it now. The moment had come. If he felt it too, the excitement, the anticipation of the rush, he did not let it show. This man was impossible to read and never would you have expected to feel his palm glide along your leg in this moment. Was he sensing the flutter of your nerves? Was this meant to soothe you? Or did he not trust you to hold still for him? Did he…

It did not matter. It did not matter at all. The ritual was about to begin. 

With a clicking sound the fire came to life at the tip of the lighter, a steady flame, not dancing or shaking the slightest bit as it neared one end of the moist line that shimmered like liquid gold in the dim light it cast. It had almost reached its destination, and with the softest tap, you were set alight. Your breath caught in your throat, you watched in awe as the flames licked at your bare skin. He allowed them to caress you, to spread their warmth and tingle deliciously, but all too soon, his palm eased along your stomach, and the dancing lights were gone.

What was left was the tiniest moment of elation, smothered too soon, and leaving behind a rising notion of frustration. More, you wanted to demand, but he knew already. Of course he did. And before you could break the sacred bond between the two of you, the fire lit up once more, coaxing a sweet moan to fall from your lips. He let it burn a little longer now. Who knew, maybe your vocal reaction had spurred him on. But yet again, you did not care. It was too tempting, the thrill of danger, the tickle of the flames, the heat it sent through your body as if the flames were sinking into your skin to slowly crawl through you until your entire body would be set aflame. 

He repeated his sensual torture, once, twice, on your leg, your navel, and soon you thought you would never feel pleasure greater than this when he turned to his utensils once more and produced the two wands you had spotted earlier. In a flash they burst into flame, yellow, gold, red and blue mixing in an enticing flicker that looked even more captivating as it reflected on the darks canvas of his eyes. And it was the greed, the hunger you found there that aroused you more than any flame ever could have.

You moaned again as the soaked tips touched you, swiftly he drew them along your skin, his free hand followed along the trail to swallow any remaining flames. Again and again he allowed the fiery tongues to lick your skin, getting bolder by the second, widening the territory he entered. But it was not until the fire unashamedly danced across your chest that you fully grasped the ecstasy those flames could spark. They had turned you into a mess, enslaved you, robbed you of any last sense that had been left inside of you, and still you found yourself wanting more, craving that prickling heat with an unearthly might. 

You did not even care that your burning desire was his triumph, he could sport that crooked smile in celebration all he wanted, as long as he gave you more, and more still, and then some. But it seemed he had other plans as his hand slithered across your breast one last time before he let the wands vanish in the cylindrical vessel he had produced them from. He grinned wickedly upon the frustration that must have been clear to see on your face and his grin grew even wider when he stepped away from the table and his ruthless action forced a tiny whimper to escape your lips. He basked in it, in the way your eyes followed him as he drew an extensive circle around you, the way you squirmed under his gaze, fighting so hard against your urge to chide him or use your hands to bestow the pleasure upon yourself he so cruelly denied you. He almost took a full turn before he finally came to a stop right between your legs and you drew in a sharp breath as without a warning his arms hooked underneath your legs and he pulled you down against himself. 

You could feel him, all of him, and it was impossible for him to deny any longer how much he longed for you as well. Not that he tried to, but he obviously was not willing to give into his desire just yet. He had one more ace up his sleeve and the look he shot you when his fingers closed around the silvery can of hair mousse made you bite your lip in anticipation. 

Like an artist with his brush he applied the white foam generously upon your skin, drawing lines and circles and curves until he had decorated your entire torso with a beautiful pattern. Once more he exchanged his tool for the lighter and the thought that he looked down at you like a birthday boy about to light the candles on his cake almost made you giggle. But all arising laughter died away the second the lighter touched the creamy white foam and a huge golden flame began to roll up your body. You could hardly make out his face behind the wall of fire, but what you did see was enough to make your walls quiver. Whatever it had been, he was quick to hide it though and when the blaze had calmed and split into a whole bunch of tiny blue and golden lights, he was back to his old composed self again.

It was fascinating, watching the tiny flames wander along your skin. You could feel them too, feel the trail of warmth they left in their wake, like warm fingertips or tender lips that gently kissed their way along your skin. Oh how you wished it were his lips instead, or his tongue that licked your skin, eager for the taste of you. And for a moment your eyes fell closed as you gave yourself over to the fantasy. What it would feel like to be his? Would he make you moan with pleasure when he slid into you? He would probably tease you first, let his tip glide up and down your crevice while he would display that cocky smirk again, so pleased with himself for getting you this wet. You could feel its gentle press at your entrance, slowly prying you open until you were ready to take him, all of him. Yes, oh god, yes, the stretch was just as good as you had hoped, maybe even better, so perfect it made your back arch off the table. But even more satisfying than feeling him sink into you was the sound that accompanied it, a moan so sinful, primal and raw, you wished you could bottle it up and use it at whim when you would touch yourself to the thought of him in the days to come. 

He was still focused on you when your eyes found him again, still following the flames that crawled along your skin. There were only a few left and soon they began to flicker and die away as well. And as if he had merely been waiting for them to do so, he started to move. Slowly he gyrated his hips, making your breath hitch in your throat when you realised you had not been imagining this at all. He retreated a little, just to sink deep again, and this time it was you that released a primal sound when he was nestled inside of you completely. It was bliss, everything you could have ever wished this evening to be finally come true, and it seemed that even your most ardent desire would be satisfied soon. He was holding back still, you knew he was, but every thrust, and every moan it conjured, caused another crack in his controlled facade. Soon you could see it in his eyes, he wanted it just as much, wanted to let go and take you the way you both craved so much. And you were willing to do whatever it took to set him free.

“Please,” you sighed. And then again, louder. “Please.” 

And he heard you. 

One hand lifting your leg up above his shoulder, he pulled you closer, making you keen as he slid even deeper. A wild grin curving his lips, his other hand set out to make a mess of his work of art. Eagerly his fingers dug into the white mousse to find your flesh underneath, caressing it, kneading it, his hips picking up speed with every passing second. It was madness, a wild animal released from its shackles could not have been more passionate, more hungry for life than he was. You had to brace yourself against the might of his thrusts, your hands gripping the rim of the table just in time before he found exactly the right angle to pull you into madness with him. 

He groaned again, one drawn out, deep sound, teetering on the edge of despair and you knew he was close. And once again your imagination took over, showing you lewd imagines of his face twisted on the height of ecstasy, his body tensing, fingers digging into your thigh to secure you in place against him while he marked you as what you had been all along: his. 

And that was enough to make you feel it too, the familiar pull, the clenching of your walls around his hard length, your hand reaching out blindly through the fog that was clouding your mind and when his fingers found you, securely intertwining with yours, you let go. 

He was more than willing to lead you through your high, slowing his pace, but never stopping, but then he suddenly slipped out, the fog that had been clouding your mind for a moment suddenly cleared and you watched in awe as he stroked himself, once, then again, before he found sweet relief as well. It was enchanting, watching him like this, void of all control, just this instance, this tiny fragment of time, covering you in his desire, your stomach, your breasts, your joined hands, white on white, almost invisible and still so utterly beautiful. 

His eyes had fallen closed in the moment of rapture, his cheek peacefully resting against your calf. He stayed like this for a while, just concentrating on his breathing it seemed, but then he moved. Almost imperceptible at first, you had not even noticed his fingers gliding out of yours until their were gliding down your stomach. But then they were gone, and a part of you mourned the loss of contact. It could be soothed by the soft look in his eyes when they found you again, but not completely. It was only when it combined with his smile that you felt your heart beat wildly in your chest again. There was mischief in it, and even though your hunger had just been sated utterly and completely, you could not help the gentle shiver that slowly began to crawl along your skin upon the promise it made. A promise he had no intention of waiting to make good on, it seemed. 

That did not mean he was in any hurry though. If he had proven anything tonight, it was that he knew about the art of suspense. He had mastered it. And you were more than willing to let yourself get carried away by it once more.

Raising his eyebrow, he looked down at you for a moment before his lips met your calf in a fleeting kiss. His hand followed, leaving a trail of foam on your skin as he positioned you to his liking. His eyes now fixed solely on yours, he was licking his lips, like a starved man, ready to devour his first meal in days and you knew what was about to come even before he sank down to his knees. Time for dessert. 

***

@darkcloverme

@lowkeysimpinloki

@fightmespideyboy

@rosecentury

[riverbutghost]

hello !!! I love your writing and all your prompts, I was just wondering if you’d be willing to do an extreme angst one where Everyone especially Simon notices The readers mental health go downhill , and on one of the missions reader goes berserk, or purposely tries getting themselves killed , thinking they’re doing a good thing ?

Try for me

yea yes yes. omg. thank you so much i love your support !!

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader (I didn’t know what to use so I used female pronouns<3)

Warnings: military stuff,, angst but happy ending! Also, the reader’s call sign is Crow.

Also this is phenomenal.

Gripping your gun tighter, you stumbled into the room. You quickly looked through the room and got out.

“If any of you find something, inform me so I can send help.”

Price’s voice came through the comms, and you sighed. If it was a month ago, you would have said something like ‘yes sir’ or anything. But now, you just wanted to deal with every single soldier by yourself.

It wasn’t a healthy thought for sure. But you just felt like you couldn’t do it anymore. You tried, so fucking hard but to no avail.

-

“I’ll pass on that.”

You smiled politely at your friends, who looked a bit skeptical. You saw from the corner of your eye that Soap and Ghost shared a knowing look. You didn’t care. All you cared was to sleep the day off.

“C’mere now, you love to play darts.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned to look at them.

“I’m just tired, see you tomorrow.”

They knew something was wrong, but didn’t press on it.

-

“Crow, you copy?”

You shook your head to clear your mind, but still your vision was blurred with tears. You didn’t know why, but it happened all the time. Your throat would wobble and your eyes would water, but you didn’t cry. You couldn’t. Because you were never alone by yourself. Not when you were on a long mission.

“Yeah?”

You answered Price, sighing softly.

“I told you to-“

The line was cut off immediately, and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Captain?”

You gulped after hearing no sign from him. You took a good look around you, but couldn’t comprehend anything.

“Fuck, not now.”

You mumbled to yourself as you harshly kicked a rock. Your chest started tightening, your headache got worse. All you needed was to cry, but you couldn’t.

-

Pursing your lips tighter, you held back a sob after the door opened. You gripped the blanket over your head, pretending to sleep on the couch.

The footsteps stopped right in front of you, and you tried to even your breathing.

“Crow..?”

You cursed your body for shaking slightly. You peeked your head through the blanket.

“Hey, uhm..”

Simon’s eyes scanned your face and he sat down.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice was abnormally soft, and you felt your eyes watering again. Getting softness from a guy who was intimidating and wore masks and kill people was what made the situation worse for you.

“Hey, hey..easy. S’fine, just wanted t’know because you don’t seem okay.”

You sniffed and pulled the blanket over you again, not wanting to ugly cry in front of your lieutenant.

“Is it about the mission..? Are you.. stressed? Sure, it is a hard one, but you have us. And we have you..”

You sobbed quietly as his hand traced patterns on your knees, touch soft as ever.

It wasn’t about the mission.

-

Loosening your grip on your gun, you sighed and threw it away. You could practically hear Price’s disappointed screams, harsh words that would go in one ear and out the other. But you were alone now.

Maybe if you just went to the soldiers and ask them to kill you, it would be easier.

You stared at the enemy, talking with each other about their daily lives. Not giving a single shit about killing people, torturing their kids and families.

You sighed and sat down behind a tree, holding your knees in a tight hug.

Closing your eyes, your lips wobbled a little but you sighed.

-

“Aye, Lt. What’s wrong with her?”

Soap muttered under his breath to Ghost, and he looked at you.

You were sitting down next to another rookie. Everyone was chatting around the camp fire, relaxing their minds for the upcoming mission.

That was Gaz’ idea. The camp fire.

Everyone was laughing, having a good time. You were sitting there, smiling at your teammate as he was making impressions of your other teammates.

You weren’t there, though. Anyone who knew your ups and downs would know that. You were pretending, something you did pretty good. But Soap knew, Ghost knew.

God, even Price could see it.

Ghost was the only one who saw you crying. It was the day before. You cried while he patted your knee.

It was something that affected him. Seeing you cry did so many things to his already broken heart, but he would get through it.

His main concern was you.

He dismissed Soap, and went over to sit next to you. You turned to look at the person who sat next to you, only to find him. Your smile faltered a bit, but you smiled again.

“When are you gonna stop this?”

You swallowed and tried not to break your smile.

“What, Simon?”

You called him by his real name, which was a warning. But Ghost wasn’t a guy that would consider a warning.

“Bullshit. I know you’re not here mentally. Talk to me.”

His voice dropped an octave and he gripped his gloves, ripping them off from his hands. Your sharp eyes met his as you opened your mouth for harsh words.

“Just because we made a mistake by fucking doesn’t give you the option to talk to me like you’re my psychologist.”

You hissed through clenched teeth, and got up.

You stormed out of the area, bumping your shoulder to Soap’s in the process.

“Hey-“

Ghost’s eyes never left you as he came next to Soap.

“Leave it Johnny.” He mumbled with raging eyes.

-

“Crow, where are you?!”

You gasped quietly as you shot up from the ground. You were looking at the sky, almost hypnotized.

You looked at the time on your clock, and you were there for an hour.

You looked around, finding the soldiers still talking and waiting.

You got up, walked towards them with slow and unsteady steps.

The soldiers saw you and got their guns ready. You didn’t even surrender.

“It’s for the best.” You mumbled to yourself as you took another step.

“Stop right there, lady!”

Someone yelled, but other hushed him.

“She’s one of them!”

You waited for the guns to start firing. You sighed deeply as you thought about the hurt you caused your loved ones. It was going to be better for everyone.

You held your breath and closed your eyes as the fires started, only to realize that you were flying.

Opening your eyes, you looked behind you to see your lieutenant’s chin.

“Sim-“

“Shut it.”

He put you into the truck, and locked the doors after he got out.

A pained sob left your throat after he left, and you held your face in your hands.

What was wrong with you? What the hell were you thinking? No, it would be better if you died. You’re a pussy.

The door of the truck opened harshly, and Simon got in.

“What the fuck was that?!” He yelled, hand slamming down in anger.

You just sobbed after that, but he shook his head.

“Fuckin’ hell.. I told you to talk to me, didn’t I?! You were going to die!”

Hi clenched his hands, fisting them. He punched the metal door and you flinched.

“Fuck..”

He mumbled again, and looked up at you. His eyes were red, angry.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked after minutes of silence other than your broken sobs.

“It would be better-“

“No!”

He yelled again, body tense with so much anger.

“I hurt you all the time! Why, because of my fucking mental health? I promise you wouldn’t miss me if I died.”

Simon’s eye twitched as he punched his thigh. He pointed his finger at you accusingly. He took a deep breath before talking.

“You listen to me. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Nor do Soap or anyone want it. You hear me? I’ll take care of you, you’ll be better. Therapy, whatever the hell you want or need. I’ll fuckin’ do it. But you will not do..that again, yeah?”

Your face was scrunched up and Simon moved towards you, to hold you in his arms while you ugly cry. A big pained sob left you, making Simon’s heart clench.

“I’m sorry, M’such a wreck.”

Simon just held you tighter, brain fogged with the shit you tried to pull just minutes ago.

“Never, you hear me? Never do that again. Or I swear, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

You knew what he meant. He was scared. So were you.

“Tell me.” He mumbled into your hair, after minutes passed. You were now breaking deeply.

“I’ll try.”

“That’s it.”

You sniffled one last time.

“Let’s go, yeah? Wanna take a long bath. Gonna wash you up, sweet girl.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you thought about the man who was holding you.

You would try, just for him.

[meirimerens]

what's your time management mystery secret to excel at college, art, reading, cooking, working out, blogging, commuting, etc simultaneously?!. do you procrastinate never? ever need time to stare at a wall do nothing relax decompress?

I think I answered multiple asks that were just kind of parts of this one, I cannot for the life of me find them again so I'm just gonna possibly repeat myself etc

1) "excell at college"

I've had academic aptitudes/ease since I was little ("""""gifted kid""""") and they didn't disappear as an adult. My cursus demands a specific Eye (recognition), critical thinking, knowing to follow methodologies, and eventually yes some dates, this is a lot of stuff I've done my entire life and do like for fun, so I'm in my element. If I was in a scientific field I would be eating the dirt and barely scrapping passing grades. hence why I didn't choose one. The only real advice I have for this is a) TAKE NOTES BY HAND. I HELPS THE INFORMATION STAY IN YOUR BRAIN. AND ALLOWS FOR MORE FLUID ASSOCIATIONS ON THE PAGE. b) as soon as you can after the class, make worksheets of that class is done to TLDR it and keep the main things from. Small things you keep in a separate ring binder you can flip through. c) Do not go to class with 4hrs of sleep in the legs you will regret it. d) if you can, do Stuff from your cursus like. Outside of class. I need critical thinking for my classes -> I read and watch movies and go to the theater so I can use my Thinking muscles. I need greek for my greek class I read bilingual copies of greek plays to work out my Linguistic Pattern Noticing muscles. I need to describe artworks for class I go see artworks, in person or online, and think. Add: i will tell you I have multiple times exited a midterms telling to myself "I sucked so bad I'm gonna barely get a passing grade" and in the end it was more than fine. Idk how i do that.

2) "excell at [...] art"

Excelling at art is purely subjective and I feel like I've somewhat stagnated for a bit. The #realones know I used to be able to Churn Out 2 a week if not more, now it's a miracle if I put out 2 a month. I focus on one drawing at the time (or try to.....) and use my weekends and the one day every two week I have where I don't have class to work on them. Knowing I need to set time aside for them makes me want to be more diligent in my painting of them.

3) "... reading"

ALWAYS HAVE A BOOK IN YOUR BACKPACK OR WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE CARRYING!!!!!!! I'm not fucking around. I do most of my reading in the 30 minutes of subway I have every morning and 30 minutes back at night, and between classes. This of course will not work if you have to drive or walk the whole way to campus. But for me I can. Book in your backpack. Long line at the uni canteen? get some reading in. You arrive in front of the doors 5 minutes early and the prof is 5 minutes late? reading. Exam that takes an hours out of the 2 of the class and you finish early? Reading.

4) "... cooking"

One-pot meals. I'm so serious. It's the only thing I do. I have a youtube playlist full of "easy" "quick" whatever else recipes and I alternate depending on what I have in the pantry and want. I planned my meal for the week on the weekend and go grocery shopping on monday morning as I don't have classes. I am also lucky to live In The City so I can literally go grab an ingredience on my way home from school or at 8PM monday to friday.

5) "... working out"

Oh I've gone weeks without working out. Quite frankly. Weeks because I was stressed, because I had midterms, whatever. But when I do I a) do it at home. lol. I dont got Gym Time or Gym Money. b) work out quickly after lunch or dinner (not #optimal but idgafffff I just want to workout) c) do not do it for more than 30 minutes. lol. I don't got time for that. You find tonsss of "follow-along 10/15/20 minutes workout" videos on youtube you can follow in the comfort of your own home and you feel great afterwardssss

6) "... blogging"

Oh you're in my phone. That's the easiest thing of it all. Blogging and even when I'm studying at home my puter is just here.

7) "... commuting"

You just gotta wake up long enough before to catch the bus or the subway don't you. Like there's no secret to it. I never have to take a car to move around in the city, I'm subwaymaxxing, I have a bus to and from the countryside, just gotta wake up. Every day I thank the gods that I don't have to drive to go to college thank you goddesses of fate and chance for having me born here.

8) "Do [i] procrastinate ever"

You will never guess what I'm doing now. Basically on days where I don't have class that's what I'm doing. Sometimes so hard I drive myself crazy. Sometimes I'm stuck in immobility spirals, locked in my own mind screaming at myself to get a move on, unable to do so, and it drives me insane. Maybe he's born with it maybe it's executive dysfunction.

9) "ever need to stare at a wall do nothing decompress"

Every day. That's what the weekends are for, even more the weekends where I can go back to my countryside. Built for the isolated rural monastery's scriptorium, made to study in the city. Etc.

Another thing: I am quite often in genuine, physical pain from stress and strain (recurring headaches mostly), around end of semester exams I am absolutely out-of-my-mind stressed, but you don't see any of that, and when you do I get silly with it posting. I have bad days too 👍 like reallllll real bad lollll and I have to rawdog them all. At any given point there is always one part of the ~optimal~ human life I am neglecting (not enough rest <- typical; falling behind on my coursework; not keep up with my skincare so I get mad I break out; buying sandwiches instead of making the food i planned to; not drawing or writing which pisses me of; not going outside and taking the sun on enough;...)

you just don't see that lol

[liu-anhuaming]

all my mandarin dictionaries (and dictionary-adjacent books)

Through chatting with @don-dake and @cherrymintvampyyri, I've come to realize that I might own a less than normal number of Mandarin dictionaries. So, here's a post about all of them.

I do have two basic bilingual dictionaries (Mandarin/English): the Langenscheidt pocket dictionary and the DK visual dictionary. These are quite easy to buy and not that interesting imo, so I'm not gonna talk further about them.

I'm also going to include a couple books that aren't technically dictionaries, but are rather about etymology of characters, and that's close enough to count for me.

Okay, let's get on to the interesting stuff!

1. What Character is That? An Easy-Access Dictionary of 5,000 Chinese Characters by Ping-gam Go (second edition, 1995)

bilingual

This strange little dictionary was gifted to me by a nun who went to high school with my grandma and later lived in China as a missionary. It's organized alphabetically based on the English translation of each radical?

I have not used this dictionary for actual reference ever, because I flipped through it once and realized that it was absolutely whack. But it's cool to have I guess.

2. 新华字典 第11版

monolingual

This little guy was gifted to me by a Chinese classmate back when I was in college. It's a 字典, so it's just focused on defining individual characters and providing some words featuring that character. Despite being a mainland dictionary, it also has 注音 next to each character for some reason.

It's got some neat stuff towards the back, like the periodic table and a chart of all the 節氣 solar terms.

3. 小学生全笔顺 同义词 近义词 反义词 组词 造句 成语 多音多义字 词典

monolingual

Whew, that's a mouthful. This is an actual 词典, so it defines full words. It also provides example sentences, synonyms, antonyms, and close equivalents. Then there's a section for idioms, and another section for 多音多义字.

There's also this nifty little insert with examples of words/phrases that follow common patterns of repetition.

4. 新现代汉语词典

monolingual

I picked up this chunky guy from a used bookstore down the street from me (the owner of the store passed last year, and the store is no longer there unfortunately). This is a fairly normal dictionary, it's just bigger than my others and has more words listed in it.

One thing I also noticed is that this chart towards the end of the dictionary apparently had a strip of paper pasted on the bottom. It doesn't seem like something I can peel up without damaging the paper under it, and when I shine a flashlight through the page I can't make out any major differences between what's on the sticker and what might be on the page under it. So my best guess is there might have been some damage to the text on the page?

5. 商务馆学汉语近义词词典 The Commercial Press Guide to Chinese Synonyms

monolingual

This book is easily the one I reference the most. As the name suggests, the book is all about synonyms. It takes sets of 2+ similar words and thoroughly explains the similarities and differences between them all. There's plenty example sentences, with notes about whether the synonyms can be used interchangeably in certain contexts.

It's a great resource, but I had a bit of trouble getting my hands on a copy. It's possible that in the years since I bought it there have been more copies made available for sale though.

these next two are books I haven't explored too much since they are old and the binding is incredibly fragile and starting to fall apart. just opening them is stressful.

6. 漢字分解 Chinese Characters Explained by F.X. Keelan (aka 康愛玲修女) (1967?)

bilingual

This book was also gifted to me by the nun who went to school with my grandma, and appears to also have been written by a nun! Based on what I've found from Google, this book was published in 1967.

Rather than a dictionary, this book is "a compilation intended as an aid in grouping and remembering [Chinese characters] with a view in acquiring a reading knowledge of Chinese"(p. iii). It aims to break down characters into radicals and giving similar/related characters. It's apparently the final installment in a 4 part Mandarin Course.

This book uses traditional characters. According to Google Books, the publisher is 光啓出版社, which is a Taiwanese organization. The book includes a very long table that has Mandarin, Cantonese, Taiwanese, Hakka, Japanese, and Korean pronunciations for (what seems to be) every character mentioned in the book. The intro mentions that this is so the course is more "accessible" for speakers of other East Asian languages.

Also, look at that printing error in the third photo! The text got cut off at the bottom of the page.

7. The Structure of Chinese Characters by John Chalmers (second edition, 1911)

bilingual

This final book is the oldest of the bunch, and was gifted to me by my boss's boss for some reason? She found it in a used bookstore apparently.

This book also uses traditional characters, because simplified characters just weren't a thing yet in 1911. This book is falling apart, and opening it stresses me out. It creaks whenever I open it.

Going by the title page, the full title of this book is An Account of the Structure of Chinese Characters Under 300 Primary Forms; After the Shwo-Wan, 100 A.D., and the Phonetic Shwoh-Wan, 1833. It was published by Kelly & Walsh, which was a Shanghai-based publisher.

Someone very kindly penciled in the years the author was alive: 1825-1899. John Chalmers was apparently a Scottish missionary (bc of course he was) who apparently popularized the term "Cantonese". This book that I own in particular was originally published in 1882.

It is, as the very long title suggests, an analysis and etymology of 300 common components

It also has a nifty fold-out of all 300 "primary forms" in seal script.

[aldisobey]

The Veilguard's Gift

AO3 link for you all

Set some months after the epilogue. Rook is feeling rested and visiting Neve at the Cobbled Swan for some easy work. Unfortunately the conversation doesn't get a chance to stay light.

------

A muse fairy visited me tonight and put this in my hands. Normally spend way longer with stuff before putting it out there but I know this'll be in wips way too long if I don't offer it up now and I think it's fun enough to share (or not we'll see how the morning hits haha). Full story below because it's shy of 2k, guess I wanted to practice Neve for the future.

“Rook. It’s good to see you.”

“Neve!” It’d only been a few months but he couldn’t help it. Rook took off dashing and engulfed her in a hug. Nearly sent them both tumbling into the muddied street at the violent joy of it.

“Whoa,” she responded with a dry laugh and a smirk, “must be doing well.”

Rook released her, still beaming and laughed in reply, the sound deep, and for once, maybe in all his years, rested. “My head’s finally quiet, I think I slept four weeks straight.” He hadn’t. Emmrich had made sure to wake him as much as need required, but those had been blissfully quiet moments, soft remembrances lost in fade of melding dreams.

“Aw, you’re thinking of him aren’t you?” She still smirked, dug an elbow into his side. The touch was grounding, made Rook blink and snap his head to the side where she walked with him. Their feet led them up the steps into the Swan as he gave a characteristic shake of his head.

“What?!” But he smiled, others might guess what subject his mind had retreated to when he spaced out, but Neve had a knack for knowing just what each glazed look was. Or…did she always guess Emmrich? Was it always him? Rook screwed his face in thought, and Neve chuckled low again, seemingly aware that she’d lost his attention to the lich once more.

“You’re still with him right? Where is he?”

The smile returned, but Rook kept the memories and distracting thoughts free from his mind as he and Neve made way to the preferred spot for the day in the Cobbled Swan. It shifted after all, and today the mood suited here. Sometimes intuition was the thing to follow.

“Of course! Neve we’re soulmates.” Said with his full chest, he cleared his throat, covered the sincerity with a chuckle. That was too loud, oh lord don’t think him too serious. Maker help him. It felt that and more.

“He’s back in Nevarra dealing with…” he nearly said lich business out loud. In the middle of Docktown's most prominent bar while accompanying someone that always drew eyes. He took a seat opposite the detective. Naturally Neve would meet him somewhere safe from enemies and their gossip. But it wouldn’t be uncommon for friendlier eyes to have an eye on her, for protection at the very least. Best not spread that ‘secret’ further than needed. “...Mourn Watch business.”

Rook muttered as he settled into his chair and folded his hands in front of him on the table. Nodded. Pleased with the answer and seeming importance of his partner. “You know classes and stuff maybe start…”

Neve copied his movements, leaned onto the table in much the same way, perhaps stoking a conspiratorial spirit as she made direct eye contact. It broke off his thoughts, paused his words. Rook felt a shiver on his neck, something in her eyes was dire, insistent, and he couldn’t turn his gaze from it as she spoke even, slow. “Soulmates or not, you should think about breaking it off.”

She wasted no time. Rook confirmed it. Emmrich wasn’t here. Lucanis had checked, double checked. The Warden was here alone. And she didn’t know when that would happen again. If ever? Didn’t feel like bringing up the subject around the professor. Oh he would understand of course, give them space, but could he listen? Would he still hear every word? Friend or not, the foundations of the patterns taking form were troubling, best nip this early if possible. If it wasn’t dealt with…

Rook was in shock, jaw dropped, folded fingers coming loose as he drew back. His breath escaped hushed, surprised, and without any thought, “Neve…what…I’m…life is perfect?” Pained. It was like he’d been slapped.

He figured they would be swapping stories of their work. Well, his tales were mostly rest, but he could share such things after some of those dreams. And this meeting was supposed to be his first foray into some relaxingly safe work. Like building a park or something. And surely she wanted to talk about Lucanis, the Threads, detective work…anything other than whatever this was? It started with pain, to confusion, and was simmering into irritation, why would she say that?

“Listen, Rook. I love Emmrich, we all do, sincerely. We’re happy for both of you. And we know he’s obsessed with you.” Rook wanted to mutter obsessed with each other thank you, but her flat tone was as sincere as ever, and the gravity of the moment kept him silent. But for once, the hint of a tremble entered her words, “Where do you think that’s going to lead as you age? If you ever choose to put yourself in real danger again?” she paused, something had caught her eye, a flit of magic or some thinning of the Fade.

Thankfully a Thread mage outside the Swan had seen the same and dealt with whatever it was, but for the briefest moment her eyes widened in rare shock, and her voice dropped to a whisper, “It might take you a while to realize, that’s fine…” this was taking too long, too painful to say aloud and to make real, she groaned, “...just, if you ever need to disappear, I specialize in that work, know people that do. And I’ll always be here to help you. Okay? I’ll leave someone in my place if I’m too old for all this, so know that it’s always. Even if you’re in Nevarra.” With that said she pulled something from her pocket.

“You know how to use some magic items right?”

Rook nodded. Steeped in silence at the ‘attack’ or whatever this was.

Neve revealed a ring, pressed it into Rook’s slack hands before he could protest. He picked it up from his palm. It had a thick gold band, set with a large deep purple sapphire, and within it glowing soft, without shedding light, was the elven rune for rebellion. But when it caught light just so it threw soft purple in the room. Rook didn’t have the keenest eye for such things, but even he could tell this was a princely gift.

“Lucanis paid for this.” Rook muttered as he turned it in close examination, at times searching for that spot where it threw the light. Neve laughed light at that, eager to soften the conversation as well.

“Oh? Looking to take my job are you?” Rook looked up from the ring to Neve’s winking face, and found that he could smile again.

“Consider it a gift from your Veilguard. Wear it at all times. Never take it off. Grave gold is a thing for you now right? If you're buried...well...it needs to be with you.” She spoke halting, slow, firm. Many things left unsaid.

But the Warden heard them, and the warmth of sentiment over receiving such a grand gift faded, replaced with a feeling tight in his throat, a shiver that ran from head to toe. He closed a fist around the ring, he didn’t dare wear it until this picture came into focus. “Why? Neve. It’s magic?”

She sighed, looked ready to reach for a pipe as she leaned back in her chair. Content enough that Rook held it for the moment. She took a deep breath and briefly held up two fingers, “It’s got two uses I need you to learn. And its magic nature shouldn’t be detectable. Dorian helped with that.”

Rook blinked, “Why’s that…but…is this a secret?” His heart beat fast. The ring suddenly felt cold where it sat digging into his palm.

“First use. Tilt it just so, it doesn’t need light just the right angle for that rune, then whisper ‘whatever it takes’. We’ll try to get to you as fast as we can. A safety precaution. It’s likely Emmrich already gave you something of the sort.” She nodded to an expensive new piece of gold on Rook’s right index finger that he’d started rolling with the thumb of the same hand. The Warden gulped, brain rebelling against fitting the pieces to the pattern Neve could see so clearly.

“A beacon.” he muttered.

Neve nodded once, “Mhm. And when you activate it, it should be undetectable, that light is attuned to you, I can’t see a thing. Dorian struggled with that but seemed satisfied by the result. It won’t alert Emmrich. It…” She refused to voice any doubt. Shrugged, a brow furrowed, sighed before a firm, “It won’t.” Silence came between them as drinks were delivered.

Rook stared down at his fist, the ring hidden from sight. Mind reeling at the implications of it all. So much thought that had gone into this. All that work. And from the best people he knew? Why? Why go through all this trouble? Spend all this money? On magic that was hidden from…Rook bit his tongue, nearly bled, but once they were alone, servers absent, he spoke, his voice flat, a certain irritability building, “The second use?” his knuckles were white, clenched hand nearly shaking.

“Instant conflagration. For the wearer.”

“What…” a whisper of horror, a burn of bile in his throat, Rook coughed, settled it, but his face fell. He could feel a roiling in his gut, wanted to throw the damned thing as far as he could, but something caught, he couldn’t. He grasped it tight, went pale, sweat beading his brow. “...why…what…Neve…” pleading for her to spell it out, at the same time he seemed likely to bolt, his eyes wild, round, looking for some way out of this conversation. Out of all this.

Neve reached across the table, placed her hands over Rook’s quaking fist, over that princely magic ring meant to protect him. Protect him from? The Warden's nails were digging deep into his palm, nearly cut into flesh before the Tevene stilled him. He expected cold hands from an ice mage, the warmth surprised him, but calmed the uncontrolled movements. A shudder ran his skin, a warm touch. He closed his eyes, calming, breathing, and then looked back at Neve.

“Rook. I’m sorry." He could hear the pain there, the true grief. Perhaps even disbelief that she had followed through, had made this happen. But then she cleared her throat, and Rook could see determination take hold. A confident resilience that knew this might seem extra, but precautions always did seem silly when the storm you prepared for had never been witnessed. At least not of the specific type, she had seen…other varieties.

"I need to be quick, I want you to know it’s perfectly safe to wear.” Neve squeezed his hand, gentle, reassuring as best she could, “Like I said, Dorian helped. It’ll only happen in very specific steps. It'll be instant. Leave nothing behind. I need to know that you’ve learned the steps.”

The Warden swallowed. Blinked back the heat threatening again. Neve withdrew her hands as she felt him still. Rook choked down the rising anger towards her, at this, and looked down again. Opened his hand, once bruised and cut, twisted, calloused. Now, he noticed with a soft smile and shining eyes. Scarred, but soft, still rough, but not so harshly calloused. He hadn’t had to fight in months. Was that so bad? The ring looked blurry in his vision.

He blinked at the loving gift, the cursed thing. Picked it up. Turned it again in the light, noted that hue of the sapphire, they'd captured a favorite, and that rune what it meant for them all, that weight, and there that cast of light. And he felt warmth again. Love radiating from the rest of that family he finally found. They were warning him. He didn’t believe them. Almost hated Neve for this.

He slid the ring onto his left index finger.

“What are they?”

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Hiii, do you have any tips for drafting out embroidery patterns? I've got one in mind, but drafting it out and color picking is so nerve-wracking!!

[Hi!!!! this got kinda really long so I'm gonna crop it under a read more. And I honestly don't have any real training/instruction in fiber arts so this is just how I do things, and probably others do them very differently!]

Haha so my fandom embroideries are VERY different from my non-fandom personal pieces in this respect. For non-fandom things i just kind of throw myself in like WAHOO FREEFORM LETS GO and go for a kind of messy colorful approach that ends up as things like this:

Versus my fandom stuff is way more structured and designed to fill space, be very precise, etc. So for those I do go in with a digital mock up of the design I make in photoshop, that I then color in, and then as my last step translate to thread colors.

For my Dragon Age series. this has been because I'm specifically trying to mimic the stained-glass style of art you see in parts of the game like the dialogue wheels, some icons, windows, etc. The icons in particular were really easy to copy into embroidery because they already come in handy circles:

This is mostly because I have desperately wanted to pick up stained glass work as a hobby for like 6 years now. As in once every 3-6 months I put everything I'd need to start doing it into an online shopping cart and look at the price total and then sadly close the window because I just don't actually have any space I could do it in (I live in a 2bed apartment so i have no garage or yard or anywhere it wouldn't make everything else a mess or be a hazard). The day after one of those events I impulse bought and completed a floral embroidery kit from the craft store and kinda was like... ok, well, I did this once how hard can it be to use this medium to mimic the hobby I wish I could be doing? Plus, it's only like 60 cents per color! I can afford that! So I took the first design I wanted to do, the romance icon, and basically redrew it sloppily in photoshop, then freehand-copied the design onto fabric and stitched it the next day:

I learned a lot from this piece and changed my approach a little. Here you can see I tried shading in the parallel direction to my thread, which looked messy and added texture, so now I shade horizontally to my thread direction instead.

But it gave me a basic approach for turning the Tarot cards or DA Keep tiles (or any other art!) into embroidery patterns, which I couldn't copy as directly into this really smooth stained-glass style. There's a basic process I follow when doing these conversions that generally follows the same order, which I'll go through below.

STEP 1: SHAPES

The first thing I do is pick the shape of my display frame which is usually a circle, but could be an oval or rectangle too, since I hang the finished pieces on my wall to have nice way to show them off. I like to fill the whole space so knowing the size and shape of what I want the finished project to look like is a good goal for me. Since I am doing fandom pieces I want to be recognizable, I do stick pretty close to the "original" character design/art, but you can absolutely change as much as you want and freehand draw your own interpretation instead. If you're doing original art just substitute the below composition notes with "sketch out roughly what you want it to look like". I personally do my pattern drafting digitally as I find it easier, but you can do this part by hand too.

First, I keep the reference image I'm working off of open next to me while I work, and draw in the shape of my frame (here, a circle). If I'm adding in the little border to be fancy, I add a second inner circle. I keep these as their own top layer so I always know I'm working within the final "frame" and don't spend time designing any section that will fall outside it. Then I will take copies of the reference image and knock the layers down to 25-50% opacity, and start moving them around underneath the 'frame' layer until I like the way their positioning looks as a composition. Sometimes elements of a card I want to include don't all fit in, so I'll chop the section out and add an additional layer to throw in (like the background circle things in the Hermit design below). Or I'll just freehand things like adding much bigger diamonds behind Solas in my Hierophant design because I did NOT want to do 1000 tiny ones. Then once I'm satisfied with the general composition, I'll use the plain ol circular brush tool to trace out the major shapes of each element. I try to keep in mind that I can't go too small, and curvy lines are more difficult to fill in than straight ones. I usually do a rough messy version first, make it mostly transparent, and then a cleaner and more precise one over that.

(you can see parts of the rough one on the left and the fully 'cleaned up' on the right for the Hierophant design)

Now: depending on what you are doing next with the pattern, this might be where you stop and start coloring. If you are planning to freehand your design or just trace it onto fabric (or even print it onto fabric here), there's no need to do more than this kind of lineart! However, if you are working digitally and want to create a scalable vector so you can print it at different sizes, you can use the pen tool in photoshop to trace your design and make a "work path" of the lineart. However, another note: THIS PART IS VERY FRUSTRATING AND TEDIOUS BECAUSE THE PEN TOOL WAS CREATED BY THE DEVIL TO TORMENT US. It is so so so easy to accidentally delete a line or even the whole path and not notice later on. Ask me how I know 😭 Anyway I'm not going to include a pen tool tutorial because I don't even know how to use it well and have to google or watch videos every other time I try to use it. But if you can muddle through it gets you some really clean lines that eventually look like this:

With the work path selected, you can select the brush tool/size/color and use the "stroke path" option to create lineart of the vector. Then you can save this as a transparent png file for use at different sizes and for printing and it looks so nice and clean! one of the big benefits to this is that you get really fine lines that are easier to be precise with stitching on. This is extra perfect if you are printing the design directly onto your fabric (which you can do with an at-home inkjet printer for designs under 8inches wide, as long as you stick a piece of stabilizer on the back of your fabric and cut it down to printer sheet size--this is what I do and can make another post about that process if people want haha), or if you are printing onto transfer paper like you can buy at craft stores.

This is where I end the lineart for my designs. After I have this, I move on to the next phase, which is...

STEP 2: COLOR

For interpreting my designs into thread, I start by thinking of it as flat colors first. You can't "shade" as easily with threads as you can with things like paint or brushes in digital art (though you can A Little, which I will get into), so to start color planning I pick the "main" color each section will be in the piece.

For the existing icons this was simple--I kept the same sections as the original designs, so for each I just color picked or eyeballed the color in photoshop and colored it in (but you could do this on paper with pencils, markers, whatever as well--they don't need to match your threads exactly and usually won't, it's just to give you an easy reference to follow as you go). For the tarot cards which were more complicated in coloration, I just did my best and went with what looked good next to each other, even if it was a little off the original art. It will be off more later anyway when you have to pick threads so don't stress it too much honestly. I will often make layers with different color options and turn them on/off for direct comparison to try to determine what I think looks best as well, like below where I was debating between more blue/desaturated for the background or brighter colors.

I do wanna note I have regrets about the color selection, shapes, or shading in EVERY SINGLE ONE of my finished pieces. But no one else ever comments or probably even notices! One aspect of this hobby is just learning to be satisfied with what you've made and using what you learned to get closer to your preferences next time. I'm only going back and redoing some of my designs' colors because I want to make it easier for others to choose on the patterns I sell, more than I care for just for myself. Also since I'm doing this lineart/stained glass looking approach where I go over the distinct shapes with black thread at the end, it means I get these clear delineations between sections you might not necessarily have in your own pieces, and that's ok.

Ok right. Now while shading/coloring in detail is hard with thread, you CAN make whats essentially dithered gradients. "Dithering" in the concept of art means using 2 (or more) colors to give the impression of a third color, or to gently scale between the existing binary rather than a hard line. Think of it like blocky pixel art or gameboy game images. If you're doing needlepainting, you use really small stitches close together to get this effect, which translates to "smaller pixes"--if you look at the jellyfish in my first photos that's a very messy casual version of that. If you want a better example, I recommend looking at @ammocharis 's pieces like these in her pinned post, which are truly amazing! I simply do not have the patience myself 😂 For my stained glass style, I work only in very long straight stitches, so I can only shade in one direction and have to be a little more precise with it.

So for shading, I think about in each section which direction my threads might go. Then perpendicular to that direction I pick which side will be the light one and which the darker one. Sometimes I color this in on my pattern mockup, but sometimes I don't! Or I'll only do it for certain sections to make sure I don't forget. Like for my Tower design I only colored it as flats, and waited until I selected threads to decide how the shading would go. I am currently working on a smaller, simplified version of my Hierophant design and I did add shading digitally for that one just for fun. But it's not as important as having the flat color version you can use to quick-reference how you want your design to go while you're stitching. You might also notice I don't actually color my gold--I just throw in a stock image of gold foil for that layer so I can't confuse it with any of my yellow thread sections.

Here's a close up where you can kind of see what I mean by the "dithered" effect between colors--some are more obvious (like the red on the far left or middle orange) and others pretty subtle (dark grey to dark red on the wolf face):

Now, while I use single layers of satin stitches for this, and just alternate thread colors increasing/decreasing as I go, you can accomplish the same thing with short overlapping stitches like with needlepainting, or with clusters of french knots, or whatever else. But in GENERAL you are going to be able to trick people into seeing gradients out of dithering best when you are using the same type of stitch for that whole area. So if I was using multiple stitch types like having french knots, daisy chains, ladder stitching or whatever else for some sections, I would keep those to contrasting areas/colors. A fantastic example of using different layered types of stitching to create more intricate color/texture in an embroidery would be these incredible tarot card depictions by @hattedhedgehog, which I like even better than my own embroideries. Here's his take on the Tower card as well for comparison to mine (I'm so in love with it!!!).

But anyway, at this phase, your design is actually still digital--the above is just to explain how it translates later in the process. The next step is...

STEP 3: THREAD SELECTION

I will admit here I am not great at this part. I am constantly second guessing my thread colors, and can spend over an entire hour in the thread aisle at the craft store agonizing over choices. Really, I think this is just one of those things that takes practice and you get better at it over time. What I have had the best luck with is actually printing out a reference photo of my design/the original artwork and taking it with me. If you already have threads you can do this part at home too, but DMC alone has over 500 colors and I definitely don't even own half that so I like to torture myself by looking at them all together on the thread racks. Plus Anchor and Artiste and whatever other brands there are out there. One approach is to just sit there and pick out what you want for each section and line it all up together on top of your printout. Or in the case of my Tower I laid a bunch of options out on top of my template in the hoop to guess how they'd look in the frame.

For me since I am also doing this dither shading thing, I also need 2-3 colors per sections depending on its size. Sometimes it's easy and the threads have a color just a little darker or lighter right next to them in the numerical lineup! Other times, there is no good match, or it looks too far away to shade nicely, or I want one to be a warmer or cooler tone than the other... which means a lot of standing and fretting to myself over it. I actually take a lot of photos at this stage because it can be easier to see how they will look in the end from a photo than in person to me? Idk why. Plus then after they get scrambled in my bag I remember wtf order I meant for them to go in later. But as long as you're not preventing other customers from shopping themselves, you can spend as long as you want staring at thread in the embroidery aisle and they won't kick you out unless it's closing time, so take your time.

Now, IN THEORY, you can sort of combine steps 2 and 3 by color-selecting from your threads and using that to color in the design. However I have tried this and it led to mixed success because the photoshop eyedropper brush simply isn't actually that exact (in my experience, it desaturates compared to what we actually see). And because then you have to have the threads on hand while you're coloring... which means you might buy ones you don't end up using if you don't like them. So I prefer to just use this as a refinement step where I pick threads based on the design colors, then will re-color the design a second time to match those threads more closely to be sure I like the effect.

I've even used this as a tool when I needed to adjust my color choices mid-project, by digitally coloring over over my WIP:

Or here's a design (but I haven't posted the finished piece yet bc it's a gift so shhh) I made with certain color tones initially, but after buying thread I re-did the color mockup to be more vibrant, because I liked those threads better in the store:

Once you have your thread, you can make yourself a little reference chart with the colors you intend noted on the sections you want them, like below:

(note: i didn't end up sticking to these colors because I ended up dying my own thread for several sections. And then forgot I made this entirely and picked new ones because I put the project down for a year between design and stitching. Sigh).

Or for my Solas pattern I did this in a really detailed way, which i am sorry but i have redacted because... i have it for sale now and don't wanna just give that away haha. But if you buy the pattern from my shop this is one of the files you'd get with it, for ease of reference. I do also include a text-only list of them as well.

Now I don't go to this much trouble for all my designs, just the ones I put up for sale (or plan to). You can also just make a text list of your color plans if you want. Though for fun I also have been using my scrap thread to make these little "color palette" keyrings for my finished pieces, so if I ever remake them or update their patterns I will know what the original colors were, plus I can compare what i used to other threads if I wanna change part of the design up. This step is absolutely not necessary and I'm just doing it because I'm selling the patterns now, but they are kinda fun to look at.

And don't forget.. if you start a section in a certain color and decide you don't like it, you can just cut the threads and pull them out! I did that with my original hierophant piece actually. I had an entirely different color for one row of diamonds i thought just clashed way too much with the others, so I used photoshop to paint over it with some alternate options until I found one I liked better. Then I cut away all the old threads and put in the new color. It can be a little harder to fill a piece the second time since the fabric will have stretched out a little, but as long as you're using a good stabilizer it usually doesn't move too much.

You can also just make test swatches on spare fabric to test before you add them to your real piece. I wish I'd done this for some color transitions that didn't end up looking the way I wanted, but I am simply too lazy most of the time. My exception is usually for metallic, satin, or sparkly threads, because I want to know how they feel while embroidering. But if you're really worried about a certain color or shade it's a good thing to remember you can just do.

SO yep, that's my general process for drafting patterns. I start with the shapes/design, then do my flat color version, then I pick my threads. Makes it sound easy and short when phrased like that :) But I can honestly spend 8-10 hours just on making the lineart and coloring it in. If I was better at art, probably this would be less, but I'm working with what I've got (not much) 😂 I think all aspects of this are also something that gets easier over time, but it will probably never look as bad as you worry when you start out. I think all my pieces look awkward and rough right up until I do the finishing steps and move them to the display frame sometimes.

I hope this was helpful and answered your questions!! Feel free to post/share your WIPs to ask for feedback or advice ever too :) I've only ever had people in the embroidery community on tumblr be encouraging and helpful to me, and I'm happy to answer any questions myself when I can or if parts of this were confusing

[oscquinn]

DAY THIRTEEN → hot coco / baking, sydney adamu

TAGS & WARNINGS → all fluff! fem!reader, idiots to lovers lowkey, also neighbors to lovers. (slightly) late entry for bearblr promptober!

WC → 872

you knock on your neighbor’s door, prepared for your… girls night. you’d hoped it was a date, but for some reason you’d blurted out, ‘oh, like a girls night in!’ when syd proposed the idea. you’ve been kicking yourself since.  you’d suggested the two of you use tonight as an excuse to put on a nice outfit, go out of your way to make that kind of effort when your busy schedules barely allow it. 

she opens the door with a grin, her lips lined in deep brown and accentuated by a soft pink gloss. she wears a dark patterned sweater with a black skirt and tights, paired with shiny black boots, a silk scarf over her hair, and small gold hoops in her ears. 

“ugh, you look amazing!” you say, stepping inside and setting your share of ingredients down on her counter. when your hands are free you turn around to hug her, a polite embrace you wish would last longer. when you hold each other at arm’s length you point out, “i can’t believe you’re copying me!”

sydney’s gaze drifts over your red turtleneck, black skirt and tights. you wear white mary janes to match your white eyeliner and large daisy earrings. “please, you look so good like- stop! get out of my kitchen,” she teases, shoving you lightly before an awkward look washes over her. “fuck, sorry that was-“

you shake your head and laugh it off. sydney’s awkward bits and idiosyncrasies made her special to you. they made her the girl you were falling wholly, hopelessly, head over heels for. 

you fall into easy conversation, browsing the pages of sydney’s recipe books. she preps the dough for croissants, the perfect pairing for the french hot chocolate sydney overheard you raving about. she’d offered to make it for you, and after the whole date vs. girls night fiasco—which neither of you had discussed, but both seemed to notice the error—you felt bad, offering to bring ingredients for croissants to pair with the drink. 

after prepping the dough, sydney passes it to you to roll out while she gets to work on the hot chocolate. you roll it out, then fold it over just like sydney’s shown you before. with careful hands you roll the dough into two large croissants, situating them on the pan and placing them in the hot oven.

turning towards the living room, your eyes take in the space for the first time tonight. the coffee table is cleared off, a fall centerpiece is in the middle, and small candles light the area. despite being an electric replica, seeing as the mantle was decorative and had no chimney, her fireplace brings a glow and warmth into the room. 

“can i put on some music? i’ve always wanted to use your record player!” you ask, gesturing into the room. truthfully you want a better look at her decor.

“yeah of course,” she tells you. “my record basket’s under the desk.” 

you kneel by the wicker basket, glancing over at sydney’s concentrated face as she slowly heats chocolate over the stove. she’s so beautiful, you think.

you thumb through rows of old school soul records until a stevie wonder greatest hits collection sticks out. you place the record down and drop the needle with a grin.

sydney looks up at you, the two braids she pulled in front of her silk scarf now hang in front of her eyes, but she’s smiling nonetheless. she nods your way as the first notes of for once in my life play. “great choice!”

you return to her side, “you have great taste. seriously, sam cooke? aretha franklin? that’s a little before our time.”

sydney’s eyes never leave the chocolate, stirring it into thickness after adding the ingredients. “uh- yeah! it’s just all, like, stuff my dad listens to. we’re pretty close, so.” she moves the pot off the stove, pouring the dark chocolate mixture over a bit of milk in two white teacups. “pretty sure if you look a little further though, theres a vinyl for uh… the ratatouille soundtrack?”

you laugh, watching her make an embarrassed face as she grabs something from the fridge. “you’re serious,” you ask.

“yeah, i was like fifteen and just got my first record player,” sydney tells you as she grabs two spoons from her drawer and pries the top off the container. homemade whipped cream. 

“syd, this is-” you whisper, cutting yourself off. you dip your spoon into the whipped cream, then turn it upside down over your cup. it falls into the dark liquid, melting at the sides from the heat. you take a sip immediately, not minding the warmth that spreads through your chest. “oh my god. this is amazing.”

she takes a sip for herself, whipped cream getting stuck on her upper lip. “you have a little-“ you gesture toward her face, and her eyes go a little wide. nervously, she looks around for a napkin, but your hands on her cheeks stop her. “i’m going to kiss you,” you tell her quietly.

sydney only nods, then your lips are on hers. she tastes like chocolate and peppermint, with a hint of the whipped cream you’ve cleaned off with your kiss.

© gallaghersgal, 2024. inbox. masterlist.

div. © saradika (x).

[drowned-cypress]

I'm new, please interact with me!

So I'm a new Subnautica blog. Here's some stuff I wanna talk about:

Is it possible to apply real world physics to Subnautica, including things like how scuba diving works, and the risks of decompression? I think it is if Planet 4546B has less than a third the gravity of Earth. I have thoughts. I've been doing math! Edit: here's my thoughts.

Eating nothing but fish and raw vegetables isn't a great diet! What recipes can you make with the ingredients available in the games? Are there things that you could potentially eat with a little preparation that aren't available in the games? I've been coming up with recipes using real world analogues for game ingredients. This is much easier in Below Zero than it is in Subnautica, so that's where I've been focusing. Edit: Here's some initial thoughts about this. Here's some recipe ideas.

There's a certain point in the games where everything gets way too easy. I'm writing a story set in Below Zero where Robin experiences a series of catastrophes that leave her without fabrication technology. She has to homestead it. I've been trying to figure out the logistics of that.

There's a document in Below Zero which you can find in the Mercury II which mentions cooking with a jailbroken fabricator. Fabrication tech is really fascinating once you stop to think about it. It's an atomic rearranger. How would you go about cooking with one? What else could you do with it?

There's an entire conversation to be had about whether uploading brain patterns really preserves a person, or whether it just makes a copy of a person and the original person dies. (See also: the Star Trek Transporters are Actually Murder theory.) I haven't seen anyone talking about it! I want to hear Al-An's thoughts on it! Edit: Here's a mini fic I wrote about a conversation between Al-An and Robin on the subject.

And of course I'm always interested in worldbuilding: Architect society, Alterra society, further details about the biology of aliens, what living with an alien in your head is actually like, all of it!

I'm fifty pages into a Below Zero fic draft and my roommate is tired of me talking about it! Please reblog to help me find people to talk about this stuff with!

[wishjacked]

Happy #WebcomicDay!! :D

This year we're celebrating the process of making pages... so below the cut I've got a bunch of pictures sharing how I go about making pages of my evil post-apocalyptic workplace sitcom, Cargo!! :D

So! My process!!

Writing-> I think sometimes there's pressure to "write" your comic a certain way, I see people talking about script format and stuff a lot. That really doesn't work for me, though! I write my "first draft" script in short scenes on scrap paper, in whatever order they come to me. Sometimes a scene will just be one or two lines, and then a little description of what I want to happen in the rest of the scene.

Later I type the scene up, and write the "connective tissue" that fits between the disjointed scenes so they all flow together like they ought. I don't do page breaks or even character tag or action notes hahahaha I like it to be as BASIC as POSSIBLE so it's easy to edit. And since I'm the person drawing it I can almost always remember who's supposed to be saying what lmao

I edit a lot, but the most major editing is also probably the last bit... when I letter my pages usually I realize "they would never say that" and so I end up rephrasing everything. My art brain is sometimes waaaaay better at phrasing hahaha. Like you can see in the finished page for this script I rewrote like basically all of it, and actually went back to the original "sketch" script in a lot of places.

Thumbnailing-> my thumbs are really big, I draw them with markers on printer paper and keep them in a binder!! I like to thumb scenes in batches and I also usually write my dialogue on them, just so I can read through them before (and while) I draw to get a feel for how the pacing works. :)

Sketching-> OH sketching is also really hard for me! I don't have a good visual imagination so it's really important for me to make sure I have good references. Last year I was especially focusing on setting.

My comic is set in Florida. I'm lucky in that I used to live there and still go back to visit sometimes, so sometimes I can gather my own reference images! But more often I start on Google Maps or Zillow, trying to find buildings that have interesting features or the right kind of "look" for what I want. I'll also look up other interesting elements, my comic is set in a post-apocalypse and I'll research home gardening and things like that which people would probably have.

For example, in this set in chapter 7, I used Google Maps images, photo references of indoor hydroponic gardening, and like, 90's-00's hacker computer setups haha. Also my BFF Roomstyler.com, where you can make 3d house interiors haha!!

Lineart-> I LOVE lineart it is my favorite!!!! I sketch and ink two pages at a time, and it usually takes somewhere between 10-12 hours to do both steps.

I actually think my art looks best when it's just lineart... but I think my STORY is better with color, like it makes it clearer and easier to read and it has a better atmosphere HAHA.

Colors-> I think it usually takes me 4-6 hours to do 2 pages (I haven't timed myself as consistently as I time my lineart and sketching). I have a big file with small copies of my previous pages that I color drop from, and my characters are all flats only. The limited palette that I use is also really handy, it streamlines coloring a LOT.

Finishing Touches-> aka I steal mercilessly from my one true love, my internet home, the beautiful and blessed Wikimedia Commons

I put lots of overlay layers on my art! I like textures so having some strange little textures or pictures on things makes my art feel a lot more finished to me.

And finally my very most favorite ✨finishing touch✨ is the bright colored/patterned gutters that I use. Here are some of my favorites that I've made and used in the past!

And that's all!! I hope you guys have a very happy Webcomics Day and find lots and lots of wonderful new things to read!!!

[color-craz]

AF MidWeek Round-up!

This is just a simple post compiling all of my attacks so far along with some artists notes! Mostly because I found myself much more active this year than last year (Minus these few couple days due to some appointments). I'll be tagging everyone and linking to other socials so you can see these lovely folks. Of course if you want to attack me, I'm ready to fight! Without further ado, here's all the attacks so far :>

@cosmicdenro @stellarknightz - Weekend Date The name of the game for these first few attacks was to get everyone who I was supposed to last year but ran out of time ^^;;. I decided upon Jesse's Zircon over Jesse the character (one in my bookmarks) b/c it seemed like Turquoise Zircon was less drawn this year but was his icon on AF. So easy pick from me :> (Btw doing Sodalite's stripes and copying Zircon's shape language was really fun!!)

@/clawothy (Twitter) - Chill Cat Another attack from last years bookmarks! It was definitely a soft but enjoyable opening into drawing furries since Claw's so human shaped. It was fun drawing his tail and patterns :>. This is just a nice character design all around.

@twidaisi - Speedy Service Twi was also one from my bookmarks, but also a doorway down an ArtFight rabbit hole. Which will become apparent in the next two pieces. For this one, I had a pretty clear pose in mind so I placed it onto O.R.B.I and went from there!! His design is so neat and he seems so cool! The pose was also pretty fun to do as well, just an overall fun art piece (Also this one got a revenge!!! I still really really love thank you so much!!!!!)

@scratchgeist - Escapism Ho! This was a doozy! Twi had Scratch's profile linked so I ended up hitting him with an attack too. Drawing Scratch's mane turned out to be a pleasant experience despite me originally fearing it. This scene idea also came from a prompt of Scratch going outside. I ended up putting Polish on this because all those scratchy "ink like" lines I actually did manually (take a fuzzy brush and then go over it using a sketchbook eraser). It was nice dipping my toes into BatIM again and trying out more animal feature.

@/stylin.art Instagram @/crypticc0rpse Instagram - Pirates in arms One of those two people were linked on Scratch's profile and the person linked also linked to the other person. But I realized that both Stylin and Crypt had some shared characters. So this ended my little rabbit hole of people by attacking these two lovely fellows at the same time. This little crossing swords idea took me a nice minute to come up with but I liked how it ended up anyway. I really did like drawing James together like this (probably helps that I really like pirates in general). Also yes I know her hand is fucked up I noticed way to late to fix it.

@smoresthehalloweenqueen - Listen to the waves Once I finished up with that I moved onto the next bookmark, which was Smores! Originally I was gonna draw Brutus but then I was like "I like his sona it looks like fun!" So I drew them listening to music because why not :>. I struggled on the arms initially but it came out real clean and nice. Honestly might be my best work so far! (Fun fact, I color picked the waves + background from Seafoam's icon.)

@skittisketch - I got it! Mr. Sascachawean himself! I referenced this pose form the classic Objection point because I thought it would fit his personality. This was also a little bit of a test with a style I had only done in sketches (Basically my human style but omitting a neck which somehow shaves off a lot of time). This was a super fun pose to do with a pretty nice background! (Once again, fucked up hand I know I noticed too late again)

@justpainterrobot - Rare Nightly Sight I had this really really clear picture of what I thought up for this attack and I'm happy that I was able to make it a reality. I put the polish tag on this one because I almost got super super detailed of what the junk was below her (Stuff coming down from Elysium n all that) but due to a lack of references I just went with typical metal and wood. Fun fact, the night sky in the background is based on the one from Deponia itself (The first game's scenes with the professor at night). I think this rewrite of Toni was really cool from what I could find about her. Overall a labor of love type of attack.

@coelpts @swan-swanno - Boss Battle I thought to myself "Hm, I see Coelpts around a lot, lets hit him with an attack." and it turns out Ciel's gay married to Swanno's charater Mikhail, who was the last one in my bookmarks from last year. So another double attack for this one! It was a struggle starting this one mostly because I was debating whether or not to draw Ciel's Lord outfit but I ended up doing so because why not :>. It was a fun experience copying Swanno's more angular style, which is a stark departure from my more rounded shapes (As you can see here). Has a nice venture doing the lighting as well, overall a good experience.

@tailsylennon - Sweet Treats Mitchell showed off Tasily's proflie one day and I saw their sona and was I was like "Lemme draw it!" and did! I ended up following another prompt by her because it was their birthday! (By the time I started on this it was 8 pm and I freaked tf out and got to work). Her sona was really cool and I really loved drawing them. Fun fact, each of the set pieces references the Hallows Souls trio. The chair is decorated after Terra, Markus is the table, and Whistle pallet is used for the tea set :>. It was just a pleasant and cozy attack to make overall.

@ceaseless-enemy - Congratulations!!!! I've actually known about Voila for quite awhile now and thought his design n theaming is quite neat! I actually based the pose off of Ai from Oshi No Ko (I think one of her key arts before the anime released, ifykyk). But I skillfully cut out the legs because I can't draw digitigrade legs... Hooray... Otherwise it was quite nice to work on this attack in particular, especially the eyes and the hair :>.

@killbent - Getting Ready This is another one I had a real clear idea of prior to doing this, specifically because Killbent gave a prompt to give Mr Fairchime pink hair, so i thought a "pre-show" set up would look nice :>. The lighting was another new venture for me, because I usually do cool/night time like lighting but I think it turned out nicely for Fairchime. It was also fun doing the accessories and stuff on the vanity as well. Fun Fact, it's a bit hard to see through the watermark + lighting but the face paint and pallet both have the colors of his make up! Overall a pleasant and warm attack for this year.

And that's all of them so far! I picked up some new bookmarks + I gotta get Twi back for drawing Compact!! So those will probably be compiled by the end of AF so about, early August-ish if I keep up the pace. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and gracing me with the opportunity to draw all of these amazing characters!

Until next time!

-Gappy, Witch of the Stars