#might finish that bottom sketch sometime
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pencilofawesomeness · 2 years ago
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I'M COMING IN (hug requests) lemme preface this with I AM BAD AT CHOOSING, I HAVE MULTIPLES ALWAYS because I'd hate to give the ONE IDEA you don't wanna do. Pick one.
Jamil and Kalim (could be sad, could be bittersweet)
Azul and Jamil (lmao good luck with context on that)
Lilia and Malleus ("that's my boy")
Malleus and Leona HAHAHA
Floyd and Riddle (carrying around like teddy bear perhaps)
Rook and Trey (listen...agenda)
Kalim and Malleus!!
Epel and possibly shocked Vil/Full Pomily hug (post book 5...)
Idia Ortho and Grim :>
Do not do all of these. They are options. I will end you if you try to do them all LMAO
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When Lilia has to float to give his ridiculously tall eldest son a head pat (one that he desperately needs)
Anyways I latched onto the father-son one, bolstered by my Malleus-needs-hugs-and-meaningful-affection agenda, and it turned a little more bittersweet than intended, but Lilia turned out really soft and I went all in.
And, even though you definitely said only do one, I had a funny idea, so here's a bonus not-quite-a-hug sketch underneath the cut
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So the "Malleus and Leona" prompt inspired me to do a very silly redraw of my other favorite pair of frenemy goofballs. It's definitely not hugging, and the fact that they choose petty cat fight tactics realllll close to each other, when they are capable of much better fighting tactics, is definitely just a coincidence and not because they are enjoying themselves and their petty skirmishes.
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forsworned · 3 months ago
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Breach of privacy ft. Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick
Author's note: Kyle stumbles upon your journal and he can't keep his prying fingers off, but what happens when you catch him?
Tags: Sexual Content ish?, Your teammate that you have the hots for is reading your private, sexual thoughts about him
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He didn’t mean to do it, really. The journal was just lying open with your fluffy pompom pink pen stuck between the pages. His fingers graze the rosy pages as his eyes skim over your handwriting.
March 30
Sometimes I really can’t help but get lost in his honey eyes when he talks. Everything else fades to white noise when he looks at me. I can’t get enough.
He chuckles softly. He supposes you could be talking about anyone like that. His fingers trace the edge of the page, contemplating whether to turn it.
Of course, Kyle isn’t an idiot—well, maybe a little bit. He has enough sense to know he really shouldn’t pry into your private thoughts. It’s wrong, but he can’t help himself.
He tentatively bites his lip, glancing at your door, which is slightly ajar, and then back at the journal. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he turns the page.
He notices a few torn pages and skips to something more recent:
July 29
The dream I had last night was way too vivid for my liking. I stashed my cake in the farthest part of the fridge, and Johnny still ate it!—
Kyle snorts softly. It’s not completely unrealistic for the Scotsman to eat their food, even if it’s labeled.
—Apparently, I was so upset that I ended up crying, but Kyle told me he had a remedy for my post-eaten cake blues and took me to his room.—
Kyle hesitates, his breath catching as he reads the last line. The word “throbbing” pulses in his mind, teasing him with the possibility of what might follow. He half-expects the entry to turn explicit, making him regret invading your privacy even more.
But as he reads on, he realizes it’s not what he thought:
—He sits me down and eases me into his bed, insisting that the only cure for my misery is the warmth of a freshly baked brownie. I’m skeptical, of course, but when he hands me the plate, my resolve melts away. The chocolate is still warm, soft, and gooey, and as I take the first bite, the flavor spreads through me like a comforting hug. The throbbing in my head from crying so much begins to fade.—
Kyle lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. That’s all it was—a headache. He chuckles, shaking his head at his own overactive imagination.
Just as he’s about to close the journal, something at the bottom of the page catches his eye. The next sentence appears hastily scrawled, the handwriting slanting with urgency:
—But then he leans closer, and his hand rests on my thigh. His touch is gentle at first, but soon enough, the warmth from his hand begins to spread, and it’s not just my headache that’s throbbing anymore…
Kyle’s eyes widen, his heart pounding for an entirely different reason. He quickly flips the page, but before he can read more, the sound of footsteps approaching makes him snap the journal shut, his face flushing with guilt and something else he doesn’t want to name.
Your body goes rigid when you notice the fine-ass man of your dreams (literally) standing in your room, holding your journal. Horrified doesn’t even begin to cover it.
He’s slow to realize the journal is still in his possession, and when it hits him, he scrambles to put it back on your worktable. ��Oh, I wasn’t—” He stammers, but before he can finish, it slips from his grip and falls to the ground, spilling its contents. The horrified expression on your face only deepens.
You rush over to gather everything, and he crouches to help, but your voice is irate. “J-just stop!” You exclaim. He pauses, glancing up at you with a remorseful expression, but you don’t care—not when the spilled items include detailed sketches of Kyle and, well…
“Whoa,” he murmurs, taking in the intricate ink drawing of you and Kyle in a rather compromising position. It’s enough to make his cock strain against his compression shorts.
Your face burns as you snatch the illustration from his fingers and stuff it back into your diary. He slowly stands, feeling a flush creeping up his cheeks. He had no idea you saw him like that.
He watches as your lip quivers with the journal tucked under your arm.
“[Name], I…” He steps forward, but you shake your head and step back.
“Just get out,” you say softly. He can tell you’re deeply upset—probably more than he’s ever seen you before. His heart sinks when you turn away, folding your arms as a tear slips down your cheek.
Ah, fuck. He’s really done it now.
“And you just kept reading?” His Captain’s incredulous tone feels like a stab to his chest.
“Well—”
“No, ‘well,’ ‘ifs,’ or ‘buts.’ You invaded the lass’s privacy. Have you no shame, Kyle?” Price continues to scold him. Kyle shakes his head, almost understanding, but not quite.
“It’s just that I saw these drawings and—”
“—Don’t tell me.” Price cuts him off, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Jesus, Kyle. Are you serious right now?”
“I…”
Price points a finger at him with a threatening tone. “Not another word. Go now.”
The temptation to read someone’s private thoughts is childish, but he can’t ignore it. He runs a hand over his stress-stricken face and lets out a heavy sigh.
“Go apologize,” Price chides, gesturing to your room, which you’ve locked yourself in. Kyle opens his mouth to protest, but John doesn’t want to hear it. “Now. Before I kick your arse myself. That’s an order, Sergeant.” He turns away, taking a long swig of his ale.
Exasperated and dejected, Kyle scoots off the barstool and heads to your door. He lifts his knuckle to knock but hesitates, glancing back at his Captain, who glares at him intently.
Yeesh.
He softly knocks on the door, but there’s no reply. “Hey, [Name]. It’s me, Kyle. Can I come in?”
“Why? So you can read more of my journal?” You call out from behind the door, and he feels a dull ache in his chest. He leans his ear against the door and closes his eyes,
“To apologize, lass.”
There is an uncomfortable silence before he hears you padding toward the door, and shifts his weight so he’s no longer supported by the barrier. You only crack the door open. Your eyes are sunken in, cheeks are tear stained and flushed, and he feels his heart sink even further.
“Please.” He pleads with you, and you can tell he’s being sincere. Begrudgingly, you open the door and he steps in as you shut it behind you. 
“Can I sit?”He points to your bed, and there’s a flash of your dream that plays behind your eyes as it dips beneath his weight.
“Well, you’re already sitting.” You mutter, crossing your arms at him. He gives you a sheepish smile before apologizing and he leans forward, weaving his fingers together. He glances up at you with an earnest look in his amber eyes. A look that makes your heart melt no matter how angry and humiliated you may feel because of him.
“I’m sorry, [name], really. I was wrong.” 
You lean against the corner of your desk, crossing your legs in front of you. “Are you sorry because the Cap said you ought to be?”
He glances away and shuts his eyes, “[name]...”
Vexation shocks at your system. “No, don’t you [name] me. You had the fuckin’ audacity to read my thoughts, in my journal in my room.” You scoff at his impudence. “Unbelievable.”
His shoulders slump, “Look, I understand. I really do. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I just got curious…and also—”
“Also what?” You challenge, quirking a brow at him.
“I just never realized how talented you were. I mean really, for a second there I thought I was reading a romance novel not a diary that doubles as a personal art gallery.”
You can help but snort at his cutesy attempt of trying to dig his way out of the hole he just created for himself. He swallows thickly realizing his charm is working on you, “and…”
“And?” you press inquisitively.
He sighs and gives you an earnest look. “I really am sorry.”
You tilt your head to the side. You almost feel bad for the sorry state he’s in. It’s easy to tell when Kyle feels guilty of something, when he’s being honest and genuine, when he’s annoyed and fed up—when he’s genuinely happy and you see that glimmer of softness in his pretty eyes…
“But I can’t help but feel like I’m the main love interest.” He teases, trying to lighten the mood and that causes your disappointment and anger to crack. 
You roll your eyes, failing to suppress your laughter.“Yeah, well, the main love interest has a lot to answer for.”
He smiles and stands up, stepping closer to you. You allow him to close the space a little, glancing up at his towering form and feeling the warmth radiating off his body. “Okay, I’ll be honest. I have no clue how to fix this, but let me make it up to you?”
The smell of his aftershave is dizzying. “How?”
“Well, for starters,” He takes another step and you’re raising your brow at his boldness. “I’ll stop snooping where I don’t belong.”
You fold your arms across your chest. “Uh huh,” Your heart thrums loudly against your chest. 
“And I can take you out to lunch? That cafe you really love that’s all the way in the city, the one with the cute pastries you love.” He tempts, and of course, you can’t help but to cave in. It’s annoying and slightly distressing how you allow it. You don’t want to, but you’re crashing quickly at the look in his eyes as he licks his plump lips, grinning down at you. 
“Fine. Only because I adore that place.” You point your finger at him. “And”
He raises his brows waiting for your next condition. “There’s no price limit on what I want.”
You knew he would do that anyway, but you wanted to make it crystal clear. He pokes his tongue in his cheek and chuckles. “Boy, you really know how to seal a deal, eh?”
“Idea,” You smirk.  “maybe you should try not poking your nose into places it doesn't belong then.” You sarcastically remark, and he playfully scoffs at you. He enjoys the banter, and well, you.
“Touche.” 
You sigh as you card your fingers through your hair. “Fine, but you’re still not off the hook.”
His eyes darken with something unspoken. “Good, I don’t wanna be.”
For a moment you feel the intensity cracking down on you as you search his eyes, and you’re melting under his gaze. But there’s a rapping at your door that tears your gazes from one another. 
“All good?” Price’s leans against the doorway, trying not to pry. His expression is unreadable and you can’t help but to feel some relief. 
“Yeah, Cap, we’re good.” 
He nods, eyeing Kyle for a bit longer. There’s still a hint of disappointment in his eyes, but he can’t say that he’s not consoled by you two making up. He thinks that maybe Kyle’s lesson isn’t quite up yet.
“C’mon Kyle, got somethin’ for ya to do.” He gestures for him to come with him. A smug look on his face as he winks over at you. Kyle groans.
“Oh, no.” Kyle pouts as he’s being dragged away by Price and you’re giggling at his objection to obey his Captain’s orders. He reaches out to you as you grin. “Save me!”
You shake your head as you close your door, “Not a chance, Garrick.”
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breadbrobin · 5 months ago
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the bet
part two
cedric diggory x reader — harry potter
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[fem!best friend reader]
summary: the summer is going well. you’re not in love with cedric, and you’re so gonna win this bet. totally. right?
warnings: quite a lot of swearing, betting/gambling, underage drinking, cringey flirting (PLS i wrote this years ago), GOD they’re so in love it’s stupid, minor character death (sort of???), i think i’m a comedian (i’m not), switched from an x oc story so might have a few mistakes oops, mediocre writing (again i wrote this years ago and this is the worst part i think)
word count: 2.7k
(ok first of all tyyyy for the love on the first part i can’t wait for y’all to read part three! there is just one more part after this and it’s the best one imo)
part one
part three
——————————————
The Flowers
Cedric was splayed out on your bed. One of his feet hung off near your head and you was infinitely glad for his quality hygiene.
You were reading the Wizard of Oz again, and he was dutifully drawing something that he refused to show you.
“Okay,” he finally said. “I’m done.”
You finished your page and slipped the bookmark in, turning to him. “Can I see?”
“No, I drew this for you but you’re never allowed to look at it.” he teased, straight faced.
“Never?”
“Never.” He broke into a smile and shoved the sketch pad in your face.
It was a… Well, you weren’t exactly sure what it was. There was some interesting shading, a tuft of what could either be grass or hair and a strange egg shaped blob in the middle.
You hoped your face didn’t show your emotions as you quickly schooled your features into a smile. “It’s great, Ced.”
He had a wide grin plastered on his face as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I know. Now turn the page.”
You did as he said and blinked in shock, your jaw dropping. “There is no way you drew this.”
“I’ve been practising.”
“Have you been taking classes from freaking Van Gogh in between Quidditch practise?” you gaped, looking from the sketch of sunflowers and daisies and his beaming face.
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “An artist never reveals his secrets.”
“I think that’s meant to be magician.”
“Same thing.” he waved her off. “Anyway, I know sunflowers are your favourite, and daisies are my favourite. So I combined them.”
“This is honestly incredible.” you gushed.
“Oh, stop it.”
“No, seriously.” You stood up. “Can I put it on my wall?”
“Go for it,” he beamed, somehow even brighter than before.
You gently pulled the page from the pad and ripped a tab of blu-tack off, sticking it to the wall above your desk. Once it was hung, you stepped back to admire it. “Oh!” you gasped. “You need to sign it!”
Cedric stood up and brushed past you, scribbling his signature on the bottom right corner with a small heart. “Happy?”
“Mhm.”
That should have been your second sign.
They stood side by side and admired it for a moment.
Then you broke the silence.
“I can’t draw for shit,” you laughed. “And look at you. Mister Artist himself.”
“Oh, piss off,” he groaned, hugging your shoulders from behind and resting his chin on your head. “You can sing though. I can’t.”
“Liar.” you scoffed, patting his arm. “I’ve heard you sing. Besides, you’re practically perfect at everything you do.”
Just as he was about to respond, Cordelia burst through the lightly shut door, eyes still red and puffy. The two separated. “Lunch is ready.”
“Thanks, Dells,” he nodded. “We’ll be right there.”
As she left, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you out. “God, I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving.”
“Very funny.”
The Second Week
As with most summers, you and Cedric spent almost every waking moment in each other’s company.
Unlike most summers, however, you couldn’t chase the thoughts of a certain bet from your mind.
You knew, you knew, that there was nothing to it. That it was just your friends being annoying and messing with you and everything you’d started reading into was just in your head… But, God, was it hard to remember sometimes.
You were mostly worried that he’d find out. Maybe one of your friends would send you a letter mentioning it? (Not that he’d ever read your letters.) What if Liz came for a random visit? Or worse: what if she told her friends, the Weasley twins, and they came for a visit?
You chased your swirling thoughts from your mind as Cedric walked through the front door, performing the mental equivalent of shoving all of the mess in your room into the wardrobe and hoping it closed right.
“Hey,” you smiled, standing up with your bowl of milk that used to hold cereal. “You’re early.”
“It’s eleven o’clock.”
“Yeah, early,” you shrugged, setting the now empty bowl in the sink. “What’s up?”
“Wanna go into town?” he asked, leaning on the counter and gesturing to the fruit bowl.
You tossed him an apple. “Sure. When?”
“Now?”
You sighed heavily, half-joking. “A bit more warning would be nice. Lemme go get changed.”
“Yes!” he cheered through a mouthful of apple. “You’re the best, N/N!”
N/N? You wondered as she jogged up the stairs. Since when am I N/N?
If you’d been listening carefully, you would have heard Cedric bang his head against the kitchen bench.
The town was quiet as always.
A farmer’s market was dying down, most vendors packing their remaining wares and smiling sheepishly at you and Cedric as you wove your way through the stunted stalls. You purchased a fresh bread roll and split it between you as you walked, both surprised that it was still warm.
“You know,” Cedric said after a few minutes of silence as you left the market and strolled along the main street. “We should do this more often.”
You squinted as you looked up at him, the sun assaulting your eyes. “Really?” you asked dryly. “What, burn ourselves to a crisp and get blinded while we’re at it?”
“No, dummy. Do stuff.”
“What? You don’t like doing nothing with me?” you teased.
“No, no, I love doing nothing with you,” he stole a chunk of bread that you’d been eyeing up. “But I also like spending money.”
“I bought the bread. I was the one who spent the money.”
He gasped, as if he didn’t already know. “What? Really?”
“Shut up, Ced,” you smiled, pushing him and stealing the last chunk of bread from the packet.
You were awake uncharacteristically early, so when you knocked on the Diggory’s front door, Cedric looked supremely confused.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “Did someone die?”
“No, why would you— You’re an arsehole, you know that?” you pouted.
“Yeah, I know. Come on.”
He led you down the short hallway and into the living area. You sighed contentedly. The Diggory’s house always smelled amazing; a combination of vanilla, coffee and cleaning supplies that somehow worked. Cedric often smelled similar, you realised. The vanilla that clouded the house seemed to hang around him as well. You shook yourself out of it as he began speaking.
“My dad’s gotten obsessed with the TV,” he admitted, nodding towards the man who was watching with a rapt expression. “He doesn’t really understand it, but he’s addicted. He really likes cricket. Probably because he can’t figure out how to change the channel.”
“Oh, I used to play cricket! I love it so much!” you gushed, joining Amos on the couch. “Who’s playing?”
“England and India,” he said distractedly.
“ODI, T20 or test?”
“Test. We’re on Day Two.”
“So England’s batted?”
“Three-thirty-seven.”
“Not bad,” you squinted at the numbers on the screen, showing one-twenty-eight for six.
“I have no idea what you guys are saying,” Cedric cut in, looking blankly between you two.
“We’re talking sport,” Amos said, almost giddily.
You didn’t spare either of them a glance as the English captain went upstairs for a review. “Yeah, get back in the kitchen. Go make us a sandwich.” you teased.
“I thought you were coming to hang out with me,” he almost pouted.
You finally dragged your eyes from the screen. “But… Cricket…”
He shook his head with a smile. “Right, of course. Two sandwiches coming right up.”
The Moment You Knew
The days seemed doomed to repeat. Groundhog day, your mum had called it. So, when you found a way to rid yourself of the monotony of daily life, you took it without a second thought.
“Mum, please!”
“I don’t know…”
“I’ll even get petrol! I’ll… I’ll… I’ll pay for it myself too!”
“Y/N…”
“Mum,” you pleaded. “It’s just me and Ced. It’s a twenty minute drive and I’ll get petrol on the way back. We’ll be back by four and I’ll wear suitable shoes while driving.”
Whitney pursed her lips in thought. Then she sighed. “Fine. Don’t bother getting petrol, I’ll fill up on the way home from work on Monday.”
You squeaked in excitement, hugging your mum tightly. “Thank you! You’re the best! I love you!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Love you too, hun,” she smiled.
True to her word, you did wear suitable shoes. The drive ended up taking around twenty-five minutes, but you supposed your mother couldn’t fault you for driving just under the speed limit all the way there.
There was a secluded lake you’d found out about from an old magazine in your mum’s collection, when you’d been looking for something, anything, to make your days less boring.
“This is awesome,” Cedric breathed as you broke through the treeline and onto the rocky shore of the small lake.
“Yeah,” you sighed contentedly, breathing in the fresh air.
You set up their towels and supplies in the shade of a tree and pulled off your sturdy shoes.
Cedric pulled his shirt over his head. You would be lying if you said your eyes didn’t catch on his muscles.
“Race you in,” he said as you had your own shirt halfway over your head.
“What?” you asked, hearing him run away. “Oh, you prick!”
You tossed your shirt on the ground, followed by your shorts, leaving you in your swim suit, pouting as Cedric splashed around in the cool, blue water.
You stomped over to the water’s edge, frowning down at him. The rock you were standing on was about a metre above the surface, casting a navy shadow over the rippling water. He waded a few metres out from you.
“You coming?” he asked.
“No,” you pouted, folding your arms. “I don’t swim with cheaters.”
He barked a laugh, swimming over to the edge and pulling himself out. Droplets of water hit your skin.
You backed away. “Cedric…”
He took a step closer.
“Don’t you dare, Diggory…”
He tilted his head, grinning widely as he continued to step closer to you. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“Sure, you don’t,” you pointed at him. “Stay back!”
He laughed and pushed off his heels, springing towards you. Before he could reach you, however, you turned tail and ran, feet skimming over the rocks as you raced for the safety of the towels.
You only managed to get a few steps in before he caught you, his cold arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground. He spun around, carrying you back to the edge of the water and tossing you into the lake.
You yelped as the cold water hit you, but remembered to hold your breath, your hair swirling around your face in the water. You heard the telltale sound of him jumping in too and forced yourself up to the surface.
“I hate you!” you gasped, pushing your hair off your forehead. “I hate you so fucking much!”
“Liar!” he retorted, shaking his head and sending water droplets flying everywhere. “You love me.”
You didn’t respond for a moment, treading water and staring at him. “You wish,” you finally uttered.
He just smiled.
The days ticked by much faster than expected. Soon, Cedric was waving his parents off on their week-long trip and then hauling his bags over to your house, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“What did you do?” you immediately asked when you were alone.
He closed the door gently before skipping over to the bed in the guest bedroom he was staying in. He sat on it cross-legged, still smiling, and patted the mattress ahead of him.
When you finally sat down, he leaned forward.
“Guess what I bought,” he said.
You waited.
“You’re meant to ask,” he sighed.
“Oh, my bad,” you cleared your throat. “What did you bring, Cedric?”
He didn’t answer, simply reaching down to his backpack and pulling out a bottle of firewhiskey.
“That’s it? Oh, you sweet, sweet child,” you teased. “I have three of those in my room.”
“Sorry, N/N, not all of us are casual rulebreakers,” he sniffed.
You pushed his shoulder. “I’m kidding, Ced. I mean, technically, I’m not, but I do appreciate the sentiment.”
He poked his tongue out at you.
The Night Things Happened
The day started like any other.
You and Cedric usually woke up at vastly different times, so when he woke up, he went for a run, had a shower and ate a light breakfast before going to wake you.
A lot of groaning and a few thrown pillows later, you were standing in the kitchen making pancakes.
As you flipped another one, leading to Cedric cheering as if you’d never done it before, Whitney entered the kitchen.
“Morning, you two,” she greeted, kissing your temple and patting Cedric’s shoulder. “Cords and I are going to that Girl Scouts sleepover tonight, remember? So you’ll have to make dinner yourselves.”
“Yup, we know, Mum,” you said, taking the pancake out of the pan and slapping it onto a plate. “We’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you burning the house down. Remember last time?”
“Mum.” You turned to her grimly. “We don’t talk about last time.”
Whitney raised her hands in surrender. “Right, right. But, on a more serious note. I shouldn’t have to tell you not to invite anyone else over and to be in bed by one, should I? And I won’t come home to drunk teenagers all over my house?”
“Nope, we’ll be all good, Ms Ridge,” Cedric shot her a winning smile.
She pursed her lips jokingly. “Mhm… Alright, I trust you two. I’m going to the shops, need anything?”
“We need more eggs.”
“Eggs, got it.”
The night was when things changed.
After Whitney and Cordelia were gone, at least long enough that it was unlikely they’d turn around and come back, you took your first swig of firewhiskey.
It burned its way down your throat, like it always did. Cedric coughed and sputtered, nearly spitting it mouthful out.
You held back a laugh. “You alright, Golden Boy?”
“Shut up,” he seethed, voice hoarse.
You raised your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I was just asking.”
You sat and ate the pizza you’d ordered already, taking sips of firewhiskey whenever you felt like it.
You closed your pizza box one slice after Cedric did, placing it on top of his on the coffee table. “You good?”
“Great,” he smiled dopily. It seemed the whiskey was hitting him harder than he was letting on.
You smiled back. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You took a larger swig of whiskey, shaking your head at the strength. “I just wanna point out that if you get sick, I’m not cleaning you up. Got it?”
“Yeah, got it.” He nodded, looking a little bit more put together. “I’d clean you up though. If you got sick.”
You smiled again. “Thanks, Ced.”
The night was going surprisingly well. You’d turned on the TV, both staring, fixated at Friends reruns, leaning heavily on each other. The bottle was half gone and, as the advertisements came on, you each took another swig.
Cedric was looking at you weird.
You straightened up, frowning in confusion. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” he slurred slightly. “You’re just… Fuck, you’re pretty.”
Your heart fluttered. “Oh. So are you.”
He blushed, looking down. “Yeah, I know.”
You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “Yeah, I bet you do, Goldie.”
“Goldie?”
“Golden Boy. It’s cute.”
“You’re cute.”
“You’re cute.”
“No, you’re cute.”
“You’re cuter.”
“No, you are.”
“You are.”
“You…” he was very close to you now, his grey eyes darting between you eyes and your lips. “You’re very pretty. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” you breathed.
“No, I don’t think you know how pretty you are. Like… When you laugh your eyes light up, and… And when you do that thing when you’re thinking… Where your eyebrow twitches… Oh, and that thing you do… The thing when your favourite songs come on and you tap your legs really fast…”
You swallowed tightly as his hand brushed your cheek. His breath smelled of firewhiskey, but you were sure yours did too.
He wasn’t looking at your eyes anymore. “You’re incredible, Y/N. And you deserve to know that.”
“Cedric…” you started.
“Sh…” he cut you off. He was hardly an inch away now. “Don’t talk. Just…”
Friends came back on the TV.
“Just watch Friends with me.” He leaned back, looping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you flush against his side.
You tried with all your might to ignore your pounding heart.
You weren’t sure if you were going to win this bet after all.
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logicbutton · 4 months ago
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Hey guys what's up I learned bookbinding to make @cindthia a physical copy of Synchronized Cardioversion for our anniversary :3
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Pics and process documentation below!
I used the following resources:
How to Make a Book by ArmoredSuperHeavy
Bookbinding Resources Master List by Renegade Bindery
r/Fanbinding
the fanbinding tag on AO3 - shoutout to r3zuri's fanbinding of a FFVII fic for their extremely informative cliff's notes version of the process
the Intro to Hand Bookbinding class at the Minnesota Center for Book Arts, an incredible resource for anyone in or near Minneapolis interested in learning how to bind their own books.
First, I typeset the fanfic. I did this by downloading it from AO3, trying to figure it out myself, checking How to Make a Book for help with a problem I was having, and realizing that I should have just used it from the beginning in the first place. I used Microsoft Word 2013.
Fonts: Palatino Linotype, Helvetica (for the characters' text messages), Beatline (for titles) Margins: .88" top, 1" bottom, .75" inside, .75" outside, .25" gutter Front matter: - Title page with only the title - "Praise for Synchronized Cardioversion" with comments from the fic - Title page with title, author name, and a colophon I made - Copyright page with fic copyright, fic URL, TLT series copyright, disclaimer, AO3 fic summary, first chapter author's notes, copyright for in-text art, book design credit, font info Back matter: - Acknowledgments (from the fic) - "Also by CindFourth" with all their TLT fic separated into Synchronized Cardioversion Extended Universe (might make another book of this at some point); Other Camgideon, Campal, and Team 69; and Other Locked Tomb
I set the page layout to "book fold" with 16-page signatures. As for the art, one of Cind's requests in last year's TLT Holiday Exchange was for art of this fic and they got not only a fantastic one-page comic from their assigned creator, our friend @anaeolist (who also did a sketch of Cam and Gideon kissing - we'll come back to that later), but also a lovely piece as a treat from our friend @kat-hikari. I got permission from both artists to include their work in the book.
The finished file was 408 pages, so I added four blank pages (two sheets) to the beginning and the end to make 26 signatures even.
Next, I printed the pages. I used my Brother DCP-L2550DW and Hammermill 11x8.5 24/60 lb. cream bookbinding paper from Church Paper. I'd read that sometimes using short-grain paper in a regular printer could cause it to jam, but it went fine. The cream color made the pages look so professional.
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I folded the pages into signatures and then pressed them overnight. Since I don't have a book press, I sandwiched them between two sheets of bookboard and put a heavy box on top, and that worked well.
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The next step, punching holes and sewing, was my favorite. I'd made a punching cradle using instructions I got in my bookbinding class. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be, and it only used bookboard and PVA glue, so I didn't even need to buy anything I hadn't already bought for the project.
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I used three pieces of tape and sewed them on using a kettle stitch.
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Then I went to MCBA to use their guillotine on the text block and their board shear to cut boards for the cover.
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I chose orange cardstock for the endpaper, and because I am a novice making novice mistakes I unfortunately forgot to get a size of cardstock that would let me fold it on the grain, but anyway. I trimmed it to the exact size of the pages and glued it to the text block. Next I glued the spine of the text block, rounded it a bit (not the way an expert would; you learn that in Intermediate Hand Bookbinding), added a strip of super mull and headbands at either end, and sat it under a weight to dry while I made the cover.
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The Bristol board I cut for the spine was probably 1/8" too wide, which makes a bigger difference than you would think. Next time I'm going to err on the side of slightly too narrow when I'm already giving myself three board widths of a buffer on either side.
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Aside from that, the cover turned out great! I could have done a better job lining up the endpaper when I glued it in, but that's the kind of thing you practice I guess.
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I love the way the navy blue bookcloth looks with the cream paper, the orange endpaper, and the red and white headbands.
Now that I had the exact dimensions of the book, I could finally design the dust jacket. Remember that sketch of Cam and Gideon kissing that anaeolist did for the holiday exchange? I commissioned them to turn it into a finished piece for the cover, and boy did they ever deliver. I also asked some of our other friends who had read the fic to give me blurbs for the back cover, and they delivered too. Cind's and my relationship wouldn't have been possible without the wonderful community we met in and I wanted this gift to reflect that.
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I created the jacket in GIMP at a print resolution of 300ppi and saved it as a pdf. The final step was to get it printed, which I was nervous about because it was the only part of the process that I had no control over at all. Long story short, I ended up with something I was very happy with done by a small chain print shop where I had to go in and talk to a human about what I needed.
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I also posted this to AO3!
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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years ago
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Remus Lupin x fem!reader [2K] protective!you, soft!Remus
Honestly, Remus should’ve seen it coming. You were never one to back down from a fight and the whole reason he was missing from class that day was the same grounds for your eventual argument. 
Professor Marigold had spent the best part of Care of Magical Creatures explaining moon phases and the effects each stage had on lycanthropes. You had been sitting between James and Sirius, squished in the middle as they doodled on their book margins, not really listening. Because, well, they’d had some first hand experience, hadn’t they? Which is why the professor was so surprised when she called on Sirius and he answered correctly, barely looking up. 
You were more on edge than the boys, wishing you’d skipped with Remus, wondering if he would’ve let you hide out in the boys dorm with him, sharing James’ hidden stash of Honeydukes loot everyone knew he kept at the bottom of his trunk. You spent most of the class eyeing your fellow students, Gryffindors and Slytherins divided in rows of three, sometimes four, a neat separation of red and gold, green and silver. 
You wondered if someone would say something, you wondered if someone would sneer, if they’d pull a face at the sketching of a werewolf in the textbook, if they’d shudder in fear or say something awful. It was silent as Professor Marigold spoke about the ramifications of being bitten, the changes the host went through each lunar cycle. You hated the word, ‘host’. It sat bitterly at the back of your throat and you changed it to ‘person’ when scribbling down your notes, more messily than you’d usually be. 
You felt Sirius watch you, dark gaze lingering on the way you sat up too straight, how your shoulders were tense and unyielding when he brushed against your own. If the boys shared a look over your head, well, you didn’t notice. 
Class was almost over, in fact, you were only mere minutes away from the finish line. But then a Slytherin you didn’t know the name of narrowed her eyes and said something you only just heard, a scorned hiss of:
“…the Ministry should do something about them. They’re a danger to everyone. Full moon or not.”
James’ hand found your knee before you could stand, nostrils flaring and heart pounding, but his touch kept you in your seat. You stared at him, wondering how he could remain so calm but he merely shook his head, subtle and soft. Knowing. 
“S’not the place,” he whispered, still bent over his own notes. “Don’t get yourself into trouble, sweetheart.”
Then class ended and it was fine until it wasn’t. 
The same Slytherin student was lagging behind you as you all made your way back to the castle, morning dew dampening your ankles as you all took a shortcut over the grass. Sirius was singing a song you didn’t know under his breath, James was still trying to stuff his book into his bag and the girl behind you was too fucking loud. You heard the way she gasped and cried out, all horrible dramatics as her and her friend spoke about the recent class subject. 
“I mean, really,” she intoned, walking closer and closer. “It’s not like they can live normal lives, can they? They’re practically monsters, I don’t see why they’re allowed to walk around freely like they have the same rights as—”
You spun, wand drawn, clenched tightly in a white knuckled fist that you barely managed to keep lowered by your side. 
“Well, that actually took longer than I thought,” Sirius mused quietly, stopping beside you with one arm across your chest, holding you back from making any other unwise decisions. “Settle yourself, darling.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you ignored the boy and spoke to the girl, brows stitched together as you tried to work out if you were going to cry or yell. Maybe both, perhaps at the same time - your chest was burning, a sickly kind of anger lingering in your stomach, rolling over and over until it simmered into a rage. The girl hadn’t said Remus’ name, but she might as well have. “You sound so— so ignorant! Have you ever met someone who has to go through something like that? Don’t you understand they’re just like us?”
The girl, Tabitha, maybe, you still weren’t really sure, blanched, staring at you as if you’d dropped from the sky. “What on Earth do you mean?” She laughed and it was a nasty sound, scathing and condescending. “Like us? Are you joking? They’re wild animals, they should be hunted down as such.”
James snatched your wand before you could lift it, red and orange sparks flying into the grass instead of the air and you scowled at him. He grimaced, hardly apologetic but Sirius soon stood between you both, eyes surprisingly soft. 
“Let’s go,” he told you, a gentle command, his hands on your shoulders. “She’s not worth it. Moony’s waiting, c’mon.”
That should’ve been it. The idea of Remus waiting for the three of you at the library should’ve been enough to make your legs work again and pull you away. But the girl was still laughing, an ugly noise, one that made your jaw tick. Sirius tugged at you, hands dropping to curl around an elbow and you took a step, just one. 
“Honestly, if I ever found out I’d shared the same air as one of those creatures, I’d have daddy on the phone to Dumbledore. One curse to the head is all it should ta—”
You ripped yourself from Sirius’ arms quicker than he could grab you, ready to throw your first into the girl’s face - her nose, if you could get your aim right. You watched as she paled, her footsteps fumbling as she backed away faster than you could catch up, all whilst your friends yelled your name from behind you.   
And then, an arm, needling around your waist to haul you up and backwards against a very solid chest. You squirmed, face scrunched in anger, cheeks aflame. 
“Hey, at ease solider, c’mon now.”
Remus. 
You deflated, breathe leaving you in a sigh, knowing that there wasn’t much point in trying to wrestle your way out of his grip. Your feet were dangling a good eight inches off the ground and Remus dropped his mouth to your ear, his voice soft. 
“Leave it, yeah?” 
You nodded, barely perceptible but Remus saw. You saw Sirius take a step towards the girl, eyes narrowed. He looked roguish and dangerous as always, and when he stepped forward once more, this time uttering a soft “boo,” the two girls took off without another word. 
Your wand was given back to you once they were deemed out of sight, your feet firmly back on the ground but Remus kept hand at your lower back, fingers lingering in your sweater, a reminder that he was close. 
“What was your plan, huh?” James’ asked, still wide eyed and surprised that you’d reacted in such a way. “Knock her out with just your fists?”
You rolled your eyes and started back to the castle, embarrassed at being seen having such a response to what was no more than some uneducated - albeit cruel - words. “Yeah, and what about it?” You sounded sullen, a little moody. “I can throw a punch as well as I can cast a hex, Potter.”
Sirius puffed out his chest, smirking. “I taught her.”
James scoffed, muttering something that sounded like, “was that really necessary?”
“What? D’you think she’ll always have her wand on her? What if she doesn’t, what then—”
Remus’ hand, warm and large, caught your own, keeping you from following the other boys and their conversation. He was frowning a little, brows knitted despite the way he was pressing his lips together, as if to hide a smile. He ducked his chin to meet your gaze, too tall otherwise, fingers twisting between your own. 
“What was that all about?” He murmured and his voice was low, pretty and raspy. “Huh?”
You sniffed, emotions catching up to you as the adrenaline faded and you toed at the grass, Mary Janes digging into the wet weeds. You tried to look away, somewhat embarrassed but Remus caught your chin with nimble fingers, scarred and calloused and entirely too lovely. His thumb tapped the space just below your mouth and he waited, quiet and patient. 
You shrugged. “That girl.” You nodded to the Slytherins retreating figure, glaring when she stared back at you from the safety of the castle steps. “Tabitha? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. She was talking about—” you almost said ‘you,’ but that wasn’t true. She hadn’t spoken about Remus at all. How could she? She didn’t know. 
Remus waited, brows raised, his hand still on your jaw to keep your gaze on him. His touch was soft, more gentle than it needed to be and it made any explanation you wanted to give him a little harder to piece together. 
“Professor Marigold spoke about lunar cycles today,” you swallowed and Remus nodded. He knew this, of course he did. It’s why he spent that hour in his dorm, pretending to be sick. “That girl. Whatever her name is, she started going on about how, how werewolves shouldn’t be allowed to have the same rights as Witches and Wizards, how they should all be—” 
You stared at the boy, lips pressed together, deciding you didn’t want to explain anymore. The bitter feeling in your stomach was still bubbling, acidic and awful, but Remus dropped his hand from your chin to your waist, pulling you into him and it settled, if only slightly. 
He was too tall, his half hug had you face first into his chest, his school sweater smelling like laundry detergent and a little smoke, something sage and citrus that was seemingly just Remus. You clung to him, hands fisting in the familiar grey wool, your lip wobbling against the fabric because it was all suddenly a little too much. Remus rested his chin atop your head, his nose pushed into your hair when he felt your shoulders shake. 
“Hey, hey, c’mon,” Remus whispered, wrapping his arm around you a little tighter, hand travelling upupup until he could pull you closer still by your shoulders. “S’fine, really. I’m used to hearing shit like that.”
His reasoning only made your chest feel tighter and your breath shuddered. “That’s worse, Remus!” You intoned, speaking into his chest. “She was saying vile things, absolutely awful stuff and it’s just not—”
“Fair?” The boy mused, his lips brushing over your hairline. You wondered if Sirius and James had stopped to wait for you both, you wondered if they could see, if they were watching. You found you didn’t care. “The world isn’t fair, love, m’sorry to break it to you. But I’ll survive, no matter what Tabitha Rosethorne says.”
You leaned back, just enough to rest your chin on the boy’s chest, pouting as you gazed up at him, glassy eyed. Remus prodded at your cheek, brushing away one lone tear that had managed to escape out of anger. “She’s a dick,” you mumbled woefully. 
Remus snorted, nodding. He wasn’t used to you using such language, only giving him and the others in trouble for it. “She is a dick, you’re right,” he agreed. “But she’s not worth getting detention for. Were you really going to punch her?”
“I was going to try,” you enthused, flushing at the idea of starting an actual fight, completely wandless. “Sirius told me to keep my thumb on the outside of my fist.”
“Of course he did,” Remus mused, sounding unimpressed. “You shouldn’t be starting fights, you know, you’re too lovely for that. Especially on my behalf.”
Normally you would’ve preened at Remus’ sweet words, his soft compliments, but you were scowling, a full pout on your lips as you shook your head. Remus looked amused, knowing that expression all too well. 
Stubborn. 
“I’ll start fights, only for you,” you corrected him, not leaving much room for argument. “And Sirius will back me up. And more than likely, James too. Once he stops arguing.”
The boy laughed, a bright, sharp sound that had your frown fading quickly. You grinned up at him, smile growing wider when he squeezed at your shoulder and let his nose nudge against your warm cheek. 
“You’re not wrong,” he murmured. Remus kept you tucked under his arm as he lead you back up the grassy knoll, towards James and Sirius who were pretending they hadn’t been watching you both the entire time. “C’mon, hotshot, the library awaits.”
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bodhranwriting · 1 year ago
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The Chosen Many
Destiny is a woman.
There’s nothing much important about that particular aspect of Her. It wouldn’t make much difference to the world if the sparks that make up the goddess of human fate had decided that Her avatar should be male or genderless. After all, personality is more important than genitalia when you can shape them yourself and She would have been just as a much as an arsehole if She’d been a He.
The important part is that She made Herself a humanoid body and, with humanoid bodies, come humanoid thoughts.
Thoughts like, ‘I’m bored’ and ‘You know what might be fun?’
Gods aren’t worshipped here. They turn up too often and overstay their welcome: rather like that one friend at a party who didn’t bring any alcohol and is suddenly very insistent on trying out a watery interpretation of socialism. At best, the more conscientious ones get thank-you gifts. At worst, it’s a toxic relationship for whomever has caught their attention.
Priests tend to get friendly with the bottom of a glass by their third year in service.
Destiny doesn’t have priests. Contrary to popular belief, She doesn’t have much interest in everyday people either. If you were to be honest – preferably in the temple of another god She’d recently annoyed – Destiny’s plans are faint pencil sketches for most. Often, She gets bored and, apart from one or two big events, most people have blameless, simple lives.
But sometimes, She likes to leave a massive metaphorical rake across the lifespans of a significant number of people.
This is one of these times.
And here we meet Sandford Candles – Sand – riding towards the village of Westbank, blissfully unaware that it is going to be obliterated by the hand of fate before he has time to finish his residency.
He was a skinny, suntanned youth, old enough to grow a beard but so far completely unable to. His hair was the colour of wet straw and cut in the style of Not Able to Afford a Proper Barber. Stray tufts stuck up at irregular intervals and occasionally he attempted to flatten them with his hand, but since he had three out of five fingers, it was less successful than he obviously intended. He was clad in the junior uniform of the Royal College of Medicine – maroon breeches, cream tunic, sky-blue jerkin – which had never looked good on anyone who wasn’t colourblind and therefore did not look good on him.
It certainly didn’t look good after a few hours of being rained on, but it was telling that that hadn’t upset him. Sand moved through the world with the good humour of someone who has never yet had anything bad happen to him.
Besides, the last rays of the setting sun were shining down on him through the autumnal leaves, the birds were singing, and he could see signs of civilisation that suggested his destination wasn’t too much further. He was taking his first steps – or rather, Arta, his horse was carrying him – into the next chapter of his life and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make the best of it.
His enthusiasm wasn’t even dampened as he rode into what certain, snootier classmates would term a ‘bend in the road’. A cluster of cottages huddled around a square of green, gradually fanning out into lonely farmhouses and huts ranged along the lakeside. Shepherds were herding their sheep and chickens back into their barns, fishers tying up their boats at the slick-wood docks, and small shopkeepers shutting up. Flies buzzed over the water, black swarms coiling unpleasantly.
Most of them stopped as Sand rode in, watching him in polite silence, their stares raking him from head-to-toe.
He coughed nervously. “Um, hello?”
One of the fishers – a tall, dark woman– sighed heavily and jerked her thumb back the way he came. “If you’re looking for Mother Nylund, back to the red oak, take a left, and don’t get eaten.”
Sand blinked, wetting his suddenly dry lips. “I – “
“She’s a scary one, our Nylund. Last apprentice ran away crying.” The fisher grinned unpleasantly. “You look like one for crying.”
“Uh…” Sand scanned the faces of the crowd. To his slight relief, several of them were shaking their heads at the speaker, a few turning back to work. One of them – a stout, ragged old man in a multicoloured shirt – caught his eye and gave him a wink and a sly thumbs-up. The effect was slightly spoiled by him immediately taking a long drag from a bottle in his hand and spilling it on his collar.
“Are you deaf?”
Dragging his attention away from the ensuing scuffle as a shopkeeper stepped in to disarm the man of his alcohol, Sand said, “No. Thank you for the directions.”
As he urged Arta to turn, he heard the woman called, “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the flies!”
The laughter, hopefully, wasn’t all aimed at him.
A few minutes and a stomach-churning second of believing he was lost later, Sand urged Arta towards a squat stone cottage overrun with ivy. A half-circle of a fence enclosed it in a front plot of tamped-down dirt with a chicken run and pen lurking by the edge, but by the smell wafting in the breeze, there had to be a massive herb garden around the back.
Dust boiled up over his feet as he slid lightly off her back and he steeled himself as he strode towards the front door. He raised his fist to knock –
And nearly fell into the hallway as someone yanked it open with considerable force. That same someone grabbed him by the collar and snapped, “Have you ever had a baby?”
“I – no – I’ve been sent from the College –“
“I know you’re from the College, man! Have you delivered a baby?”
Sand gaped. “Not yet, I’m –“
“Well, there’s a first time for everything and lucky you, it’s breech. Take this and get on your horse!”
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bodhrancomedy · 1 year ago
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A Fantasy Story About Midwives Saying "Screw You" to Destiny by Bodhrán M.
Destiny is a woman.
There’s nothing much important about that particular aspect of Her. It wouldn’t make much difference to the world if the sparks that make up the goddess of human fate had decided that Her avatar should be male or genderless. After all, personality is more important than genitalia when you can shape them yourself and She would have been just as a much as an arsehole if She’d been a He.
The important part is that She made Herself a humanoid body and, with humanoid bodies, come humanoid thoughts.
Thoughts like, ‘I’m bored’ and ‘You know what might be fun?’
Gods aren’t worshipped here. They turn up too often and overstay their welcome: rather like that one friend at a party who didn’t bring any alcohol and is suddenly very insistent on trying out a watery interpretation of socialism. At best, the more conscientious ones get thank-you gifts. At worst, it’s a toxic relationship for whomever has caught their attention.
Priests tend to get friendly with the bottom of a glass by their third year in service.
Destiny doesn’t have priests. Contrary to popular belief, She doesn’t have much interest in everyday people either. If you were to be honest – preferably in the temple of another god She’d recently annoyed – Destiny’s plans are faint pencil sketches for most. Often, She gets bored and, apart from one or two big events, most people have blameless, simple lives.
But sometimes, She likes to leave a massive metaphorical rake across the lifespans of a significant number of people.
This is one of these times.
And here we meet Sandford Candles – Sand – riding towards the village of Westbank, blissfully unaware that it is going to be obliterated by the hand of fate before he has time to finish his residency.
He was a skinny, suntanned youth, old enough to grow a beard but so far completely unable to. His hair was the colour of wet straw and cut in the style of Not Able to Afford a Proper Barber. Stray tufts stuck up at irregular intervals and occasionally he attempted to flatten them with his hand, but since he had three out of five fingers, it was less successful than he obviously intended. He was clad in the junior uniform of the Royal College of Medicine – maroon breeches, cream tunic, sky-blue jerkin – which had never looked good on anyone who wasn’t colourblind and therefore did not look good on him.
It certainly didn’t look good after a few hours of being rained on, but it was telling that that hadn’t upset him. Sand moved through the world with the good humour of someone who has never yet had anything bad happen to him.
Besides, the last rays of the setting sun were shining down on him through the autumnal leaves, the birds were singing, and he could see signs of civilisation that suggested his destination wasn’t too much further. He was taking his first steps – or rather, Arta, his horse was carrying him – into the next chapter of his life and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make the best of it.
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ezdotjpg · 2 years ago
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Comic Paneling Process
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to answer a question from @pluviatrix​, here’s a post detailing how I approach paneling!
The unhelpful answer is that it really depends on what kind of scene I’m trying to fit onto a page, because the energy and mood will dictate the kinds of shapes and layouts I gravitate towards. I usually start out with a short script, which for the last two bonus links updates looked like this:
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Writing the script helps me visualize what needs to happen and gives me a good idea of how many pages it might take. There’s a few rules of thumb that I use to start:
angled panels = intensity. So do irregular panel shapes, but the more irregular the panels are the harder it is to balance other panels on the page, so that’s something to keep in mind
Lots of small, close together panels = fast-paced action, especially if the panels are angled. Larger, spaced out panels = a slower paced, even maybe a slow motion feel.
5 panels per page is the sweet spot. Sometimes it can be less if a moment is really important and I want to emphasize it, but I try not to have any more than 8, because any more and it starts to get overcrowded.
leave room for text bubbles!!!!!!! they need more room than you think!!!!!!!
Your goal is to lead the eye around. Because I make comics in english, that means that everything should be designed around zig-zagging from left to right, down, left to right. The eye will naturally do that, but helping it out leads to pages that feel smoother. If I’m going to break that form, I have to find a way to force the eye to go where I want it to go. 
That last one is the most important. There’s a few ways you can create this zig-zag: with the text boxes, with the poses, or with the panels themselves. Ideally it would be all 3. So for a basic 5 panel example:
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option 1 is less visually clear than option 2, because the first two rows of panels don’t lead your eye smoothly. Generally speaking, whatever you choose for your first row of panels, the second row needs to contrast, unless you’re creating an even grid intentionally. Here’s an example of a page where I break the rules a little, but I make up for it by guiding the eye around:
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Once again generally speaking putting two smaller panels next to one taller panel can be somewhat confusing as to which order you should read the panels in, but I tried to mitigate that with making those two small panels a pulled out shot and then a close-up of the same subject. Then, the use of that big text bubble coming from the horn forces the eye up to the top of the taller panel, which then draws ur eye down because of those two silver lizalfos at the bottom. The lizalfos in those two angled panels are posed facing the ways I want to lead the reader’s eye, and so is Beetle. And here are some notes on how I approached this action-heavy page: 
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That middle row is all angles with things swinging in and out of frame to suggest quick, sudden movement. That close up of Loft is wedged in the middle like it’s chipping off the next panel, with Loft looking direct into the events of the next panel to communicate that he’s anticipated the Lizalfos’ movements. And to finish off, here’s what this most recent update looked like in sketch:
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I start out making the panels themselves first and just treat it like a graphic design problem, trying to make sure it all feels balanced on the page. And then I fill them in and adjust as needed.
 And that’s about all I’ve got! I hope this was helpful lol and if anyone has like specific questions abt stuff feel free to shoot them my way! Of course, everything that I say here has an exception, and there are plenty of instances where you can break these ‘rules’ in service of the story you’re telling. That’s actually my biggest piece of advice- your panels are a part of the story! They’re another tool in ur arsenal to set the mood and feeling, so you should utilize them!
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start-your-art · 2 months ago
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Art is NOT a talent. It's a skill.
Absolutely nobody picks up a pencil or paintbrush for the first time and creates a masterpiece.* Nobody is born automatically "talented."
*If you're trying out a new medium like say acrylic painting and have previously built up skill drawing with pencils there ARE transferable skills and some people can still make amazing artworks their first time but there is still a learning curve! Your mileage will just vary.
But so much of what we see online and in galleries and in textbooks is finished artwork from artists that have spent years or even decades developing their craft and their skills. It's not fair to compare beginner artwork to that but we do. It's easy to feel like some people are talented and some people aren't.
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Image ID: A photo of The Starry Night painting by Vincent Van Gogh. The lower 1/3 of the painting depicts a small village. To the left is a large dark mass that stretches from the bottom of the canvas to the top. The sky is built out of thick black, blue and white brushstrokes that form swirling shapes. As well as yellow stars encircled by lighter brushstrokes and a big yellow crescent moon in the top right corner. End ID.
So how do we stay motivated to learn a skill when we don't feel talented?
Practice 1: Don't compare your work to anything else. This is ideal but really hard to do! Especially when the internet makes it so easy to access art from anywhere, anyone, and any time! And it's pretty impossible to go your whole life without interacting with art whether it's film, music, paintings, sculpture, posters, books, etc.
In practice this might mean going offline when you feel bad about your art or your work. It might mean avoiding engaging in art an hour or so before you begin work on something. Or avoiding the internet while you're working.
Practice 2: Compare your newer work to your older work. It can be really helpful to see how far you have come. But it can also still be frustrating if it's not at the level you want it to be. It can also be frustrating to see older work that's "better."
In practice this might mean keeping a folder or portfolio of work you are proud of that's easy to access whenever you need a boost of inspiration. You can also try sharing your work with friends and family if you can rely on them to express joy at seeing your work and lift your spirits when something doesn't turn out exactly as you wanted it to.
Side note: I have run into many cases on Tumblr where people say it's IMPOSSIBLE to get worse at your chosen craft. It's not. Skills aren't linear. If for any reason you have to take a break from your craft you will probably be rusty when you return to it. Sometimes trying something new with your craft won't have the results you want. And even if you practice every day and get really good at your craft, you're still human. Humans have bad days. It happens. But this is why even comparing yourself to your own art isn't perfect. (And if you are losing skills because of mental or physical health problems that can be uniquely frustrating but know that even if you can't create at the supposed "higher level" you were at before, any art you make is still wonderful and worth making and sharing!)
Practice 3: Seek out and enjoy different kinds of art! Seek out beginner art. Seek out different kinds of art!
In practice you can try following so-called amateur artists online with small follower counts and uplift each other in the comments. You can seek out new art forms and styles that don't meet the "perfect" or "highly talented" standards you set for yourself. (Hint: Linda Berry's art is great for this. She intentionally creates art the way a child might and has done small workshops at art schools demonstrating how freeing it can be to let go of notions of perfect anatomy, perfect proportion, etc).
I have one final thought:
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Image ID: A sketch on what looks like a yellowed piece of paper. On the left is a building constructed out of simple rectangles. Extending from the right of it is a simple line for the horizon with a couple tiny triangles and half circles representing boats in water. There is a flat railing made of two horizontal lines and many small vertical lines in-between that divides the water and the land. Roughly sketched plants in a gated area beside it. And a simple lamp post extending from the bottom right of the page towards the top. End ID.
If this were hanging in a museum across from The Starry Night would you think it belongs there? Do you think the artist that made this drawing is less talented than the one that made The Starry Night? What if this artist kept drawing landscapes? What if this artist took up painting? What if this artist tried experimenting with colour? What if this artist experimented with brushstrokes? What if I told you that Van Gogh was the artist that made this sketch called View of Royal Road, Ramsgate in 1876, thirteen years before he painted The Starry Night?
You can visit this page to see hundreds of his early works if you don't believe me: https://www.wikiart.org/en/vincent-van-gogh/all-works#!#filterName:all-paintings-chronologically,resultType:masonry
Practice 4: Look up old works from your favourite artists if you can. What they created when they started will likely be much different from what they're known for. And it might be something easier for you to aim for if you wish to practice to create like them.
Everyone starts somewhere.
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TLDR:
Art is NOT a talent. It’s a skill.
Nobody is born automatically “talented.”
It’s not fair to yourself to compare your work to finished artwork made by artists that have spent years developing your craft.
So instead:
Try hard not to compare yourself to others. Minimize how much or when you engage with other art if needed.
Remind yourself of work you’ve done that you love and how much you have learned and accomplished. Work to enjoy the process of creating more than the finished product.
Seek out different kinds of art that’s made by beginner artists or that doesn’t look “perfect”. You'll be less hard on yourself for not meeting unrealistic standards.
Take inspiration from your favourite artists but not just the work they’re known for. If you can, seek out their beginner, rougher work. Their work that you admire will seem much more possible when you can understand how they got there.
Everyone starts somewhere.
My hope is that my new blog @start-your-art will be a good resource for anyone looking to start or continue their art journey.
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veinsfullofstars · 9 months ago
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Precious babies - I’m sure nothing bad will ever happen to them.
(ID: Reference sheet for my Kirby OCs, Para Dee and Bow Dee. Visually, Para is a young Waddle Dee with light orange fur, a pale beige face, peach cheek blush, brown eyes, and yellow feet. He wears large round glasses taped on the sides of his head and a green-and-brown plaid bowtie, and there is a little curl of fur swooping up from his forehead. Bow is a smaller Waddle Dee with red-orange fur, a beige face, pink cheek blush, big black eyebrows, brown eyes with a hint of sea-foam blue on the bottom, and gold-yellow feet. She wears a large navy-blue bow on the back of her head, the ribbon rimmed in pale-blue and wrapped around her head in the style of Kirby’s Fighter headband. Additional information below the cut. END ID.)
Just their kid versions at the moment, but there might be teen and adult refs for them in the future depending on how much story stuff I get around to showcasing. I got a couple other story-pertinent characters in mind as well, but they’re still deep in concept stages, so no refs for them just yet, haha. Also, if you guys want refs for young Dedede and Meta, lemme know.
Sketch started some time in 11/23, render started 12/13/23, finished 12/20/23, updated 03/11/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24. NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 01/08/24. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost
(OC info updated as of 08/28/24)
Some facts about Para Dee:
-His name is just a shortened version of “Parasol Waddle Dee” - in addition to reflecting his Copy Ability, he has yet to find another name that he feels fits him better, so he keeps it as a nickname for much of his childhood and beyond (a common practice among Waddle Dees).
-He is around DDD and Meta’s age, and a little older than Bow.
-He is the middle child in a pretty big family. While he cares for them all very dearly, being crammed in a veritable mosh pit of siblings gets to be a bit much for him sometimes. He hangs out with DDD and co. partially to get away for a while, partially because he was probably going to get roped in with them anyway.
-He shares a deep love of books and learning with Meta, though his interests lean more towards math, science, and mechanical engineering, with space being perhaps his biggest hyperfixation. Seriously, this lad can go on about nebulae and starships and quantum mechanics for hours if you let him.
-Para has an unfortunate habit of “Um, actually”-ing people about topics he knows (or thinks he knows) well, annoying his friends at best and making him an easy target for local bullies at worse…
-Unlike his friends, Para is not a very active or adventurous soul. He is easily startled, chronically un-athletic, and unlikely to harm a fly let alone another person. He much prefers quieter activities like reading and stargazing, especially from the comfort of his own home. The only physical activity he seems to enjoy is rollerskating, though all he does is leisurely roll around the park while watching the others fail at doing cool tricks.
-Though reluctant about most things, Para is especially afraid of heights. Even being slightly up off the ground has him scrambling to cling to the nearest solid object (usually DDD, who has probably picked him up, possibly with the intent to throw).
-While his friends go on about their lofty goals of being kings and knights, Para’s ambitions are relatively lax. He’d like to go to university off-world to study rocket science when he’s older, maybe even learn to build them one day, but that’s about as big as his dreams get, and even those could be narrowed down further to just seeing a real interstellar starship in person. Sometimes, he imagines flying through space on one, seeing all those stars he loves so much up close and personal, even if the idea of being up that high makes his little heart stutter in his chest…
Some facts about Bow Dee:
-She is named, unsurprisingly, for the bow on her head, which she has been wearing since she was a baby and practically refuses to remove without a lot of coaxing (stars help anyone who tries to take it off by force). She keeps both the name and the bow for much of her childhood, though she might not keep them (or her pronouns) forever…
-She is the baby of the group (a couple years younger than DDD, Meta, and Para).
-She comes from a relatively small family, taken care of by her two (extremely cool) moms and an older brother who is often away at school or out with his friends (usually to get away from his "obnoxious baby sister"). As a result, she is on her own more than she cares to be - hence why she follows DDD and his friends around like an overeager puppy all the time.
-She thinks Meta is the coolest person ever from the moment she meets him. She hovers around him constantly whenever the gang is together (to his slight annoyance), sometimes even mimicking his poses and gestures without meaning to (usually while Meta is mimicking DDD the same way).
-Bow was born with a Copy Ability atypical for Waddle Dees, that being Water. At this point in her life, the most she can do is manifest bubbles at will and maybe manipulate small puddles if she focuses hard enough. Sometimes, in moments of high stress, she can summon powerful jets of water from nearby rivers, lakes, or even pipes beneath the ground (something that has definitely gotten her into trouble more than once). She will get the hang of her powers with enough time and practice, especially as her interests in oceans, sea life, and sailing grow over time…
-Bow finds it hard to sit still and loses focus easily if she’s not already invested in something (much to her teachers’ frustration). But when she is invested in a task, she will go all in on it until either her energy runs out or something else grabs her attention.
-Bow loves sports and most outdoor activities, constantly bouncing between favorites (though she probably enjoys swimming and surfing the most) and getting super competitive when teams are involved (much to DDD and Meta’s delight, and Para’s dismay).
-On that note, she is the only one of the four who has ever successfully landed a kickflip without getting hurt (at least after the first time).
-Bow - who often forgets that she is the smallest person in the room - will challenge anything to a fight if it makes her angry enough. Literally, she will look a feral Gigant Edge directly in the helmet and put up her little fists like she has any chance at winning. The only exception to this is bugs - she will perish before letting a bug anywhere near here (something DDD never lets her live down).
-If she had a mouth, she would bite.
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charbon-et-eau · 2 months ago
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Hey, I'm Jess!
Welcome to my art blog!
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I'm a hobby artist. Pokémon and Zelda are two of my favorite things, so you can expect to see a lot of fanart for those two series. I tend to obsess over one thing for a while, but I have other interests that may sneak into my art from time to time. And on rare occasions, I might even draw some original art!
I use this blog mainly for sharing finished artwork, but I'll also sometimes post sketch dumps and respond to asks related to my art. I only reblog my art posts to my main blog, so if you don't want to miss anything, I recommend clicking on the "get notifications" button for this blog or following my main blog.
Anyone is welcome to follow, but please be aware that I sometimes post nsfw art (I always put it behind the filter). Also, I am very liberal with the block button and will not tolerate bigoted, entitled, or generally hateful behavior. I will also block anyone who spouts pro-censorship rhetoric and supports harassing creators over fiction.
Main blog: @charbon-et-feu
Other socials:
🐘Aethy (Mastodon)
🟦☁️Bluesky
I'm not currently taking commissions, but if you'd like to support me financially, feel free to donate to my Ko-fi.
I also have a Discord server for my art where I share sketches and WIPs. Sometimes I stream and chat in vc while I draw. Please DM me for an invite link if you're interested in joining the server. (18+ only please)
More about me and my interests and some handy links under the cut.
I may add to this later, so it can be a masterpost for my favorite art and fandom thoughts. But this works for now.
Pokemon
Currently obsessed with ✨️Wallace✨️
Favorite ships
Volo/Akari Cogita/women Cynthia/Dawn Volo/Cynthia/Dawn Steven/Wallace/Brendan Cynthia/Diantha Geeta/Rika
Age headcanons for some of the ships I've drawn the most
Hoenn Boys (Steven/Wallace/Brendan)
Sexuality and top/bottom headcanons
Mer!Wallace AU
How often does Steven kiss Brendan?
Does Steven workout? (body type hc)
Who has more spicy thoughts?
Contest Star Brendan: X X
Volokari (Volo/Akari)
Distortion Volo AU (aka Gira!Volo)
Reversal AU (Akari betrays Volo)
Zelda
Favorite ships
Urbosa/Zelda (BotW) Midna/Zelda (TP) Sidon/Link (BotW) Ghirahim/Link (SS) Link/Zelda (SS is my favorite version) Link/Malon (OoT) Kafei/Anju (MM)
Majora's Mask mini comics(WIPs): 1-3, 4
Fire Emblem: 3 Houses
Favorite ships
Linhardt/Lysithea Mercedes/Constance Caspar/Hilda Leonie/Marianne Balthus/Lysithea Edelgard/Lysithea F!Byleth/Edelgard Claude/Petra
Misc
I try to avoid discourse and drama, but since I like to draw characters kissing, I have unsurprisingly received asks about character ages and whether or not certain characters should be allowed to kiss, and I'm sure I'll get more. I'd prefer not to answer the same question twice so here's what I've already answered.
My response to being called a "fucking proshipping bastard"
My thoughts on people assuming the ages of anime/cartoon characters
Also, I want to make it clear that the proshipper ask is the ONLY ask of that nature that I will ever respond to on my art blog. I will most likely delete any future similar asks, but if I do decide to respond to one, I will do so by making a post on my main blog and including a screenshot of the ask. I refuse to clutter my art blog with aggressive asks from people who just want to be mad at nothing.
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ryuichirou · 4 months ago
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Some replies! I am not at home right now, so I might skip some reply days... but I’ll do my best to still post them every day.
Starting with replies about this comic that tumblr hid from everyone... (I’m mad)
Anonymous asked:
Is Kalim hard or something else?
Yes. Both options. It’s Kalim’s something else...
Anonymous asked:
Pfft- Jamil having to deal with Kalim every time he gets hard cause Kalim just announces it out loud that way Jamil has no choice but to help out.
(/\ Random idea that popped in my head /\)
Yes, exactly! It was so easy when Kalim was too young to get this kind of reaction, but nowadays everything gets him this way. But it’s not his fault, Jamil is just too hot I guess... So he absolutely has to take responsibility!
Anonymous asked:
Silver being stuck with Rook would be so funny, Silver being a natural people pleaser and Rook trying to push his butons more and more would be awesome
It would be such a fun combo, Anon. I feel like Silver is legitimately the only person in NRC who wouldn’t find Rook super creepy immediately. And he really is a people pleaser, plus Lilia’s kid, so he could tolerate a lot of things. What Rook could do to him... it’s scary to imagine lol
unofficialwheatdog asked:
My hubby, you draw Fellow Honest so good... my husband is amazing in your style... pls feed us with more Fellow Honest
Thank you so much! I’m happy you like how he looks <3
I have some sketches of them I’d love to finish someday... It will happen eventually.
Anonymous asked:
Omg I am CRAVING some overblot Riddle getting railed, do you have anything like that? Or with the OB characters? Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who likes that with how little content there is
Not at the moment, but I would love to draw some overblot!Riddle smut! And with the other OB boys... I feel like the closer I get to this kind of stuff is when I draw octopus!Azul, but he isn’t really OB, just a crazy octopus lol
I feel like the issue is that OB designs are pretty convoluted to draw, so for me personally it doesn’t happen very easy and naturally. But I have nothing against it and would love to draw it at some point.
Anonymous asked:
What's your opinion on Cater x Idia and Cater x Malleus?
Replied here and here! <3
Anonymous asked:
i’m not sure if you’re particularly into top x manipulative bottom but food for thought. the beginning of the harveston event with epel manipulating sebek into joining has me personally shipping them tbh. i can see sebek easily giving into someone so cute and defenseless, and it’ll definitely boost his ego. epel meanwhile gets to get fucked by a big buff guy who won’t hold back with enough provoking >:3
Yes, Anon, this is such a fun thing!! Epel has his manipulative little moments, he knows how to play with men’s hearts lol Ah if only there was a strong man out there to help me!, my ass. Epel figured out Sebek’s entire being so easily, he could really do anything if you play into his ego a little bit and make everything seem like it was his idea and that he was a knight that saved your entire life by kindly giving you his helping hand (or his dick).
While we don’t necessarily have a lot of thoughts about these two’s possible interaction, this particular scene was indeed pretty hot.
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autoboros · 7 months ago
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would you be open to showing us your drawing process? doesnt have to be on a completely finished piece but id love to know how you colour your art and how you use lines/lineart
This one has been sitting in my inbox for days - sorry bout that, I haven't had much of a drive to draw. But it is something I was interested in trying to show so I gave a stab at it today since I had the chance
I start off by drawing a circle and cross that serve very vague purposes. They kinda help generally. And pretty much right after I draw the side of the face and then the shoulders (for a bust). I don't really have any base sketches to guide, really just drawing what I think looks good
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I draw the face, desperately trying to ignore how stupid it looks because it will end up better when it's finished. Hopefully. This is where you pray
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Onto the second layer I begin to draw the hair (Depending on my confidence in the hairstyle, it might not even be on a second layer). Kinda winging it so I decide arbitrarily to tuck his hair behind his ear because he's such a pretty boy and I wanna see his face. Totally not because I could not. get the hair right no no
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Add the back of the hair, erase stuff that needs erasing and that's the lineart. I use a big, thick brush with pen pressure because its just a lot of fun to fuck around with. Easy to manipulate lines ig. I use the eraser just as much as the brush in a way that's hard to word but the best I can do is "carving the lines"
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Then he gets colour. Skin + clothes on one layer, eyes on a layer below, then the hair on the bottom layer. The undersides + suctions are coloured on a slipping mask. He also finally gets a nose here which is the starting point for the shading
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I completely eyeball the colouring and shading. Just, again, what I think looks nice. Try to detail the hair but then decide immediately that the rings look bad, get rid of em, add lighting because he's a shiny boy and Bob's your uncle
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This is the process for bust shots, sometimes even half bodies. Depends on how much time or effort I want to put into it. My art is seriously inconsistent and my process is even more so, and I'm mostly trying to draw in different ways with different brushes. I just find this way to be one of the easier ways. Hope this answers the question well enough :')) it was a neat question and I'd love to give details on how I do stuff
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the12thnightproject · 11 months ago
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Chapter 33: Paper Prince. Katsu’s investigation sends her to the last place Mitsuhide wants her to go, with the last person he would want her to be with.
Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)
All Chapters Archived on Ao3 
Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?
Have lockpick, will travel…
Francisco was not home, and his building locked and closed up as if he expected to be gone for a while.  Another opportunity to put the lock picks to good use.  Now that I understood the trick to it all, it took me mere seconds to open the lock. No wonder these locks are not used very often - they're terrible.
It took only a few more minutes to break into the desk and retrieve my money. After considering the matter further, I also confirmed there were no false bottoms and hidden drawers in his desk. Though Francisco said he didn’t have any information that could help me find Aki now, I also wanted to find out who Aki had been in the past.  Aki then, the Aki my mother knew, he too was someone I needed to know, even if it was just the memory of who he used to be.
All I found was one more drawing. Francisco could have become an artist if he had not gone into a time traveling career. He’d sketched a large group of people sitting in a room full of books. I recognized Aki and my mother, but the others... wait... was that a toddler Sasuke? The serious expression seemed familiar, even if the mochi patterned onesie did not. I debated taking this with me too - when I found Sasuke again he'd be sure to find it amusing - but these were Francisco's memories and I couldn't steal them.
Another thing I couldn’t find? Tea. So with a pot of terrible coffee at my side, I picked up my old life, and after too many weeks, I settled down to finally, finally, finish decoding and reading Aki's letter. Cloud city moment… Sasuke… bank numbers. I skimmed past the old news, trying to find the point where I'd stopped.
However, just as Francisco has his reasons, I am requesting that you stay here. There is an important mission, a vital one that could mean the difference between the future of your timeline, of all timelines, and chaos. There is a young boy by the name of Hikosane. That is all I know about him in this timeline. Soon after you arrived in this era, a cataclysmic event splintered the timeline, and Hikosane (or sometimes Hiko) was sent onto very different paths. It is vital that this boy survives past his tenth birthday.
Hiko? Sho’s brother Hiko? It was not an uncommon name – there were probably dozens of Hikos scattered across the land. I read further, but Aki was not of any help.
Who is he? Unfortunately, that depends upon the timeline.
Great. I suppose I could proceed upon the fact that the Hiko I knew was about the correct age, and that he’d already nearly been killed. Why was he important, though? Was he someone special to the future? Someone’s father or grandfather? Oooh, what if he was my great, great x20 grandfather?
WHO is he, you are probably asking me now. As I once told Master Mikumo, he’s not anyone specific, but he is the butterfly. In every timeline, he will do something important to protect the future. It might be as simple as giving a warlord a mouthful of water at the right moment. Or it might be as complicated as growing up to be an important Daimyo himself. The event that threw his alternates onto different paths, didn’t erase his importance to the future… only his role.
Therefore, in every timeline, Iekane is trying to kill him. I once told you that I thought Iekane’s antipathy to you was simple jealousy.  That was not a lie, but it was not the entire story. And it is not a story that I am able to share.
Thanks Aki.
Katsuko, I am certain you believe I have given you few choices in this era, but in this, I have no other recourse but to tell you that what you do next is your decision. You may choose to reject everything I have told you, but I hope you do not. More than that, I hope that you never have to read this letter and that I have managed to give you this information in person. But if I have not, know that I am proud of you, and the life you have made for yourself here.
Aki
The sun was already at its highpoint when I finally put the decoded letter down. Not because it had been that difficult to decode, but because I'd had a hard time believing everything he had told me in his typical far too cryptic Aki way.
Of course because either he was in a hurry, or because he didn’t want to segue into science, Aki didn’t bother wasting time (time which he clearly had a lot of given due to the whole time travel thing) explaining. Why? How did he know these things, or how he knew that Hiko was important to the future? Why was Iekane trying to kill him?
Iekane.
There he was again. All roads led back to him.
Gunshot? Shojumaru and I both immediately alerted and looked around. There … a man, just in profile, slipping around the corner of the restaurant. The profile was enough though – it was Iekane.
Was I imagining that, inserting a memory of him at the scene because Aki's letter had suggested it to me?
I am not careless – I was pushed.
“It won’t matter if he runs.” Iekane made a fist, and I rolled away from the punch before it connected. “No matter how many timelines you try to save in him, we’ll always be waiting for you.”
Those, those were not my memories, and yet, they were clearer than the memory of the accident. What was happening to me?
“Hikosane – on the count of three, Okatsu will throw her knife behind and to the left of the snake. As soon as it turns to look at the knife, you are to roll to the right.”
My fingers were becoming numb, but there was no way I was going to let the boy or the branch slip away from me. Mentally, I chanted instructions to myself. Don’t let go of the branch…. Don’t let go of the boy… keep your mouth closed when you’re underwater. The last one was a difficult mantra to follow when all I wanted to do was cough up the water that I’d already swallowed.
I rubbed my eyes, hoping to find a path through these familiar-unfamiliar images. Was this the Hiko I would or had saved?
Should I retrieve Hiko and keep him with me? I couldn’t watch over him every minute of the day, and at some point Motonari would return. If he found me with Hiko, then he’d probably kill me on the spot.
Could I take Hiko to the Mountain for safety? Would he go with me if I asked?
What if he was the wrong Hiko?
Cursing Aki for giving me so few identifying details, I wondered if I should find Iekane and take care of him before he could get to Hiko?  It seemed that he was the key to finding Aki. And possibly finding the right Hiko.
And to find out where Iekane was, I'd have to go back to the last place I had gotten any word about him - de Sousa's.
Thankfully my breaking and entering skills were far better these days, thanks to... Mitsuhide.
That decided, I went through Francisco's office looking for tools that might help me next. An extra dagger, a few small trinkets that could be traded for food or other weapons, and some loose coins I found in the desk. What wasn’t in the office, and still missing, was my bravado. I hopefully hadn't left that at Mitsuhide's. I was going to need that the most.
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What, or who, I wasn't going to need was Kyubei, but he was waiting outside Francisco's when I left the building. He was leaning against the wall of a restaurant, his expression as inscrutable as always. "Did he ask you to follow me, or is this a side gig?"
"He asked, but I would have followed you anyway. He only wishes to assure himself that you are safe, and know where to find you if he-" Kyubei paused, seemed to be choosing his wording, "Realizes he made a mistake letting you go."
"I am sure he didn’t say all that." While I had seen Mitsuhide beat himself up over imagined mistakes, this, my voluntary exit from his life, wasn’t the kind of thing that would torture him. Not unless my leaving eventually affected the Oda as a whole.
"No. He only said he wanted to make sure of your direction in case he located Aki." Kyubei handed me some coins. "I was paraphrasing."
Was this money from Mitsuhide… or Kyubei? Knowing that he would not take them back, even if I refused them, I put them in my coin purse. "Thank you. I haven't found him, although I have more information that suggests the person involved in his disappearance is one of Aki's old couriers. I’m going to follow that thread next."
When Kyubei relayed that to Mitsuhide, as I knew he would, Mitsuhide would understand who I meant.
"I wish you a good journey then." Kyubei bowed and there seemed to be a few more unsaid words in that bow. Then he walked away. I watched until he disappeared from view. He was totally going to double back and follow me - but it was always nice to have back-up.
Not wanting to have to sneak into de Sousa’s house in daylight, I decided to check up on my horse. I had hoped that Francisco might have managed to stop by and pet her, but given her mood when I arrived at the posting inn where I’d been boarding her, such visits had been few or not at all. To say she was annoyed at being cooped up for weeks would be an understatement. It took me most of the rest of the afternoon to ride the sulks out of her, and she nearly bit a chunk out of my shoulder in the process. Nor was she pleased that when the ride ended, I reluctantly returned her to the inn.
It was faster to walk to de Sousa’s, and had I brought her with me, I would have had to find a place to hide her.
As before, the lights on the second floor were bright, and I could see the shadows of men and women walking past. Another dinner or banquet? He certainly had an active social calendar.
After careful consideration of my options, I took the oilskin that I used when I was delivering messages, wrapped it around a blank piece of paper, and walked in the machiya as if I were simply making a delivery (it’s not as if I hadn’t delivered hundreds of messages in the past). Once inside the door, it was simple enough to peel off into the office unnoticed.
Good to know that several weeks with Mitsuhide had not dimmed my ability to blend into the scenery as if I were invisible.
It was quiet. No rain this ti—no. I refused to reminisce about the last time I'd been in here. The time when Mitsuhide had nearly desk-a-doned me to cover up our search. You are indeed remembering it. After mentally slapping myself in the face, I made my way to the desk that I totally wasn’t reminiscing about, and opened the (still unlocked) drawer.
It seemed that de Sousa never had discovered that Mitsuhide and I had gone through his desk. Having pinpointed the date of de Sousa's betrayal previously, it was a simple task to go through the subsequent correspondence in search of any clues to Iekane's current whereabouts.
Again, I flipped past personal looking missives, random business lists… there fewer letters to go through, and nothing at all from Portugal. Ok, that did make sense, as it wasn’t as if the big Portuguese ships were docking even on a monthly basis. He probably heard from Europe no more than one or two times a year.
At last, I found correspondence from Iekane himself. Unfortunately, it had limited information and was, in itself simply asking for where de Sousa would like balance of the funds delivered and noting that he had received the weapons, they met with approval, and would de Sousa be interested in a business proposition?
It was typical of Iekane’s half-lies and insinuations, and I got the impression he was feeling out de Sousa as to how far and how much he'd be willing to deal. I got it. The Nanban merchant had already reneged on a contract with Nobunaga, but that took little effort. He'd then slipped further into crime by looking the other way when Motonari had taken Hideyoshi and Mai prisoners (maybe he hadn’t even known about that, or at least refused to know). Perhaps he had convinced himself that he'd done nothing to cause their disappearance.
So here was Iekane asking, nudging, him further down the path of evil. Offering more business propositions… gauging interest.  
Unfortunately, this missive neither spelled out what he wanted de Sousa to do, nor gave any specific clues as to where he was currently located.
Ugh.
Frustrated, I started to reorganize the correspondence and --
Oh you've got to be kidding me.
Lying on top, (on top!) of the desk was another letter. It must have recently arrived. Clearly de Sousa was not an evil genius... no, just a man tempted down the slope into money and power who had not yet learned to lock his evil plans in a drawer! I’d given him too much credit and not even bothered to look on top of the desk.
If Mitsuhide had been here, he would have teased me for not thinking about that first… or, just waved the letter at me with a smug grin.
Cursing myself for the delay, I opened the letter, it was longer, but from context, de Sousa must have previously responded to Iekane’s feeler letter and professed himself willing to help. Iekane's response?  As long as you can supply muskets, I expect this to be a long and profitable partnership. Before the first snow falls, a representative from Ashikaga Yoshiaki will deliver a partial payment of silver for the next shipment of weapons.
Yoshiaki? The deposed Shogun? Where had I last heard his named mentioned? I attempted the twin memory tasks of putting everything back where I had found it, while I tried to recall exactly who had mentioned him before. Because the name had come up over the summer.
But standing around the office wouldn’t help me remember things, and it would increase the danger of discovery, so I gave the room one last double check, then slipped out, leaving the town house just as stealthily as I had entered it. Right on time, too. The current party seemed to be breaking up, as I heard the thumping of footsteps from the top floor.
Sticking close to the shadow of the building, I turned to make my way back toward the center of the city. Just as I reached the corner, I paused. What if that letter from Iekane had been delivered by a messenger who stayed for dinner? After all, the letter had been on top of the desk, which indicated a recent arrival. For that matter, what if it had been delivered by lekane himself?
Ok, that last bit was unlikely. If Iekane brought the letter in person, well, then he would have had no need to write it down. Even so, it was worth watching those who departed the building. I couldn't follow all of them, but it was worth making a note of who was there and checking them out later. Ducking behind an ornamental shrub, I crouched lower and smaller to observe the guests.
Tadayo, the fabric merchant, ok, he was a possible messenger, given his prior connection with Motonari. A trader who was also a member of the Kaigoshu. I couldn’t figure an obvious interest there. If I recalled correctly, his primary business was exporting local ceramics in trade for Chinese and Indian art. Then a tall graceful man who I had no problem identifying, as there was no mistaking the elegant profile of Yoshimoto.
“I've little experience with him, though I once saw him conversing with an agent of Yoshiaki, which does not speak well of him.” Yoshimoto folded up the handkerchief as neatly, more neatly in fact, than it had been and picked up another.
Ah ha! Yoshimoto was the one who mentioned seeing ‘Shojumaru’ with Yoshiaki.
Congratulations Yoshimoto… you’ve just become a person of interest.
While I watched from my stakeout shrub, Yoshimoto climbed into a waiting palanquin. Had he even left Sakai in the past month? Either way, it was likely that he was at the same inn as before.
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By the time Yoshimoto drifted into his room, I was waiting there for him. Not to be mistaken for an intruder (ok, I was an intruder, but not one with nefarious intentions), I had left a few lanterns burning. As intended, he saw me as soon as he entered, and without appearing to be startled, he simply bowed. "Katsu, you're looking well. I'd heard you'd been in an accident, but when I inquired if I could stop by, Mitsuhide said you were too ill."
Really? Mitsuhide hadn't mentioned that. So much had happened since the accident that it felt like it had occurred a year ago, instead of merely weeks. "There were a few days where I would not have been suitable for visitors." And I doubted that even Yoshimoto’s benign affection for me would have survived if I had thrown up on him. "Anyway, I've recovered."
Without acknowledging that I had broken into his rooms (after all this breaking and entering I'd been doing, the color of my parachute was probably larceny), Yoshimoto treated me like an invited guest, offering me sake, then when I turned that down, called for a tea maid to come and make us a fresh pot.
In the meanwhile, he, without any modesty, changed into his night kimono, pressing the tea maid into service as a valet of sorts. I allowed Yoshimoto the time. While it was true I wanted answers to my questions, it seemed impolite to interrogate him while he was changing clothes. Plus, even though I was getting used to Yoshimoto’s casual indifference to nudity, the naked Yoshimoto was a bit distracting.  
Finally once the (slightly overcome) tea maid had departed (after receiving an elegant kiss on the back of her hand), Yoshimoto settled in. He didn’t exactly say, 'to what do I owe the honor of your call' but instead, with a graceful wave Yoshimoto indicated that I had the floor.
"Yoshiaki." Would Yoshimoto look guilty if he heard the name?
To the contrary, he simply closed his eyes for a moment, but when they reopened, he looked like he was in pain. "What have you discovered?"
"As far as I know, you're the last person who has seen him, or at least the last person I'm aware has seen him." Well aside from Motonari and - "wait, did you know that Shojumaru is Motonari Mouri?" Yoshimoto could have saved us a lot of time had he mentioned that before, and I finally felt a belated wave of sympathy for Mitsuhide, for if I had given up Kennyo's name in the early summer, I likely would have saved him some time as well.
"I did not. I only saw the man in passing as I was leaving." Yoshimoto pulled the tie out of his hair, and rubbed his scalp. His fine dark hair flew everywhere, puffing out, creating a nimbus in the lantern light. "In retrospect, it makes much sense... and I wish I had stayed to learn that. Yoshiaki meeting with someone with access to an army and a navy has far more ramifications than if he were meeting with a merchant. What else have you learned?"
To his credit, Yoshimoto dropped the lazy attitude and gave me his full attention.
Though I didn’t want to waste the time, I went ahead and summarized what had occurred over the past month. The rescue of Mai and Hideyoshi was a tangent to this and possibly not as important to someone tied to Kasugayama, but it had been the hoarding of information that had left both Yoshimoto and Mitsuhide with missing puzzle pieces, "Iekane was brokering a deal between Yoshiaki and de Sousa for more weapons. Personally, I'm interested in finding Iekane, and it seems if I am to do that, I need to find Yoshiaki.” Luckily Yoshimoto was already aware of the time travel aspect, or this would be a much longer conversation. “Do you know where he is?" I left unspoken a question of why Yoshimoto knew.
Yoshimoto rubbed his arm, almost as if he were reaching for a phantom limb. "I do. He wishes for the Imagawa to join him. I have been able to hold off my vassals by pointing out that alone, with our limited resources, such a campaign would lead to the slaughter of what little remains of our clan, but clearly the situation has changed."
"Is this a fight you wish to join?" Was I even now sitting down with an enemy of the Oda? Sure, I had always known that Sasuke worked for Kenshin, but I had never got the sense that his personal interest was to prolong the wars. Then again that had all been easier before I got to know the Oda better. Aki had always struck me as a lawful neutral (a clarification that was rapidly being reassessed to chaotic neutral), and I had figured that the information we were collecting was in the service of trying to help people out of the way of danger.
"In truth, what I wish to do and what I must do are on opposite sides of my being." Yoshimoto looked out the window, where the waning moon bathed him in an unearthly glow – it was as if he was fading in front of me. "If my vassals desire this battle, I am powerless to stop them, and my only chance is to join them to mitigate the loss of life." He looked back at me, "I imagine though, that the information you seek is only Yoshiaki’s direction."
I nodded, whatever emotion Yoshimoto was feeling, it was so thick it clogged the air in the room, invading my throat.
"You won't get anywhere near him. Though he has no army, he does have a large contingent of personal guards, and he is the guest of a daimyo who will protect his life and privacy." Yoshimoto sighed, and before I could point out that I didn’t need to get to Yoshiaki, only Iekane, he said, "I will take you there.”
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@selenacosmic @lorei-writes @bestbryn @lyds323 @akitsuneswife @tele86
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heartofcupid · 1 year ago
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🎀 — 🍮 cupid’s blog, art & archive ☆
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✩ hello ! :-D
i’m cupid! but you can also call me jenny, jenn or angel! 💗 i like to draw! i’m mexican & 16 years old! 🐈‍⬛ i’m also bisexual & gender-fluid :^D ! i like ralph macchio, the karate kid (1984—1989), cobra kai, labyrinth (1986), literature, batman, spider-man, phantom of the opera, cats, the color pink & cute things! 💭💓
i also go by she / they & neopronouns love / doll ! :-D 💕
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p.s. 💭 i like a lottt of things but you can also check out my carrd linked in my bio! it’s a bit old & needs to be updated since it has been over a year but it does have a lot of basic information i hope can be of use! once i update it, i will make sure it’s all up to date! 🩷
welcome to my blog! 🎧💕
☆ — art
i like to draw and practice art, i’m currently trying to learn digital art and have mainly drawn only traditionally but i enjoy both! i’m trying my best to practice a lot & will take any advice + critique given :-D!!!! 💗💗
top two photos —
first photo: a screenshot of my homepage for the app Procreate showing multiple drawings & sketches done on the app. Note: most are experimental pieces of art! so yeah some look a little wonky, it’s all just for fun :-D
second photo: art of my original character, Michelle, legs painted over because i cant draw legs and i just didn’t finish drawing them so i covered what was drawn of the legs at the end.
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bottom 2 — sketches of my original character laelia :-)
last art! — (self portrait of myself! :-D)
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☆ — (sadly i’m on doing this post on mobile so i can only add so many photos here, so for now here are some main ones that i have never uploaded until now! 💗⭐️🌛)
the following paragraphs of this post are not as important since it’s not art or really discusses much about anything else that’s really critical for my blog here but it is more information about me and what i like, so it’ll explain any other posts i might have on here & helps to know what to except! so this part is optional to read:^). 🌷
☆ music
my favorite music!! i don’t listen to music too much & would like to expand my music taste throughout all genres (rap, punk, goth, pop, cumbia, rock, electro, anything !)
music artists i like ! i’ll add them cuz i have to be honest, there’s no point of faking my music taste lol.
☆ — my spotify! for fun lol
cravity; bts; hatsune miku; the smiths; tv girl; my chemical romance; oliva rodrigo; radiohead; the cure; paramore; baby metal; alex g; blur; david bowie; plug plug; Procrastinación 1 Yo 0; tommy february6; strawberry switchblade; luis miguel, pinkpantheress; beabadoobee; & some more! but i’m mainly a casual listener to most / don’t know that many songs from each artist but enough of their hit songs lol!
☆ films & shows.
i watch a lot of films and shows but i’m not like … a cinephile? ofc not srsly ofc but maybe as a joke to say i’m like super deep into movies & shows i could be with outside side sometimes stopping me but it’s all good!! i’ve watched some shows, mainly with family so it does take me time to finish them if i don’t watch them on my own time. i also watch a handful of films so i hope this rundown of favorite, recently watched and want to watch films & shows can give another overview of myself :-D
shows
(completed)—mob psycho; breaking bad; the bear; aggretsuko; saiki k; Neon Genesis Evangelion; Card Captor Sakura; Great Pretender; Derry Girls; and more ^^
(want to watch)—yo soy betty, la fea; NANA; Death Note; kimi ni todoke; Kamisama Kiss; princess jellyfish; and some more ^^
films
side note, here’s my letterboxd lol.
all time favorite moviesss & obsessions: the karate kid trilogy; labyrinth (1986); spider-man into the spiderverse & across the spiderverse; Batman (2022); Pride & Prejudice (2005); edward scissorhands; Howls Moving Castle; and more! i watch a lot of movies but some favs on the top of my head 💗
☆ — i try to watch and enjoy as many different films as i can, i welcome any film, show and music recommendations!
i’ll try also to maybe update this post as much as i can to make sure that while it’s up, it’s also up to date!
i tend to make mistakes in my writing & while typing a lot, i also make mistakes while reading so if i send, type, write or mistake anything else while reading & writing on this blog or any other social media account i have i apologize & any correction suggestions/clarifications are welcomed!!
p.s. i might also do a follow up post to be linked to this post to show more art or just art here will be added / changed just incase! 💭🩷🐈‍⬛🐈
☆ 🤍
i don’t reblog that much, and im not active here as i am twitter and instagram lol but i try my best to interact as much as i can! i hope i can use this as an archive for my art & things i like while making friends & anything else lol but thank u for reading (^^ 🌷
☆ — ending song for fun lol
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amaiguri · 1 year ago
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Saegenfolk Reworks -- How I'm thinking about my pastel-goth Chinese-Viking fusion culture
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Okay, so, as some of you may know, I am working on updating my Saegen culture to have more elements of my birth culture -- cuz, I legit don't know enough about it so this is a great way to learn and then like... mind-palace it into my worldbuilding (yes, I just verbed "mind-palace"). And guess what? I just finished my first sketches of a rework of the whole culture!!! <3 <3 <3 I'm REALLY pleased, it's really reasonating with me now in a way Saegen culture NEVER was <3
So, let's go over what some of the different stuff is -- Top to bottom, left to right... And I AM open to feedback and thoughts and, in fact, I encourage it <3 I consent to advice!
First thing to notice is the Saegen now have a color scheme that isn't jewel-toned red and gold… because the SVANHIK people are red and gold. I experimented with Green and Teal for the Northern lights -- but Green felt really weird. It made them too elfy. And Teal is already Telethens' color. Nouveau Thuille is purple/navy blue/black… So instead of making the red more jewel-toned, I took it towards Cyberpunk Neon/Barbie pink. Why? This is Asarlai's color in their culture now. Asarlai is the father of humanity and god of magic (up North) So wearing pink is super fatherly, magical, and clever. We still have black because black plants just work good in these near-underground settings -- absorbing waaay more light. So now the Saegen aesthetic is now like… pastel-goth Chinese-Vikings.
Next, we have the FASHION! The fashion is very very specifically stolen from the silhouette of Hanfu, just with more fur and different materials. I imagine it being Rumateur wool, but also leather and dyed animal skins and maybe bamboo silks and so forth. We still have elaborate braids and wavy hair, but in my mind, their eyes are all like the Sakha people or something. They still use their hands to paint their faces -- typically for sunscreening/snow-glare/sea-glare reduction reasons as well as receiving Asarlai's blessing. And while Thuilleans prefer silver metals, they prefer gold. This is just a contrast thing.
Next next: Houses! They mostly build out of these silvery bamboo stalks that grow under the Upper Continent. I really like these tent-like silhouettes to their houses -- with littler tents stacked atop each other. They also have igloo-like, bulb-shaped homes for temp shelters! Their ships are like dragons with their wings and blade-armored fronts (mostly for ice, but also fighting). And some even ride small whale-landsharks with sealskin saddles ❤️
Weapons and tools wise: They're really well known for their Ysse lanterns (I mean, EVERYONE IS but for different reasons). Theirs are all a really pretty pink -- the "purest form of Ysse light" (Not really.) -- and have the teardrop bulb shape. But they look like these warm, nutrient restoring fungi that naturally grow (or probably a god put them there) in Saegenheim. They also have guns (which have magic bulbs that, when struck, blast out fire. So really, they're flamethrowers but I don't like the way that sounds lol). They also use these Tang-dynasty-inspired swords and poleaxes pretty commonly.
Animal and creature wise: Their rumateurs are much bigger and bulkier -- more cattle-like thanks to the flatter plains around Saegenheim -- than the more lithe, leapy rumateurs of the Nouveau Thuillean valley. They also keep artic bunnies (even though the're considered mild pests in Nouveau Thuille) as easy food and sometimes even hunt seals. However, they have to be super careful not to murder their selkie brethren -- it is generally wiser not-to hunt seals because they might be a selkie -- and instead just ask seals for their molted skins (which they molt in one, thick slough once a year) or milk to make cheese or kumis. Not-shown: They also heavily rely on Butterflies of the Heart for Honey, Wax, and Mead --because despite their name, they're actually bees.
Above the Saegenheim cave are these enclosed plains of black bamboo forests. A currently unnamed but critically important fungus grows in tandem with the bamboo and is part of the bamboo's natural life cycle. I'm not entirely sure, but maybe something like the bamboo grows up and starts putting out leaves to photosynthesize, to pump back into the ground. The fungus feeds on the bamboo but then helps it spread further and also, gives the bamboo nutrients back in the winter. And eventually, the fungus eats the dead stalks WHILE fixing the soil for the new growth?
Regardless, the Saegen people eat this fungus as one of their staple foods.
They also eat a ground-fungus that the rumateurs and bunnies eat up here that grows small and under the frost but VERY PERSISTENTLY, much to everyone's surprise (it's the 5" one). It also works with the bamboo and tree fungus to make this really weirdly balanced flow of nutrients in and out of the soil with the seasons.
The ground fungus is usually dried, ground up, and then used for soups or baked goods (like flat breads or meat loafs.) Meanwhile, the tree fungus is usually eaten without grining but still boiled/fried/baked OR dried and ground up and brewed to make coffee. ((This is where the Northerners get their coffee -- the coffee is a lie, they are perpetually drinking an American Civil War Confederate coffee substitute XDDDDD But at least their coffee usually has good protein, micronutrients, and caffeine-like substances, unlike real Civil War coffee substitute LOL))
So Saegenheim is now in the Womb of the World, (the environment sketch) taller and this tree-like fungus grows that is also edible and can act as a meat-substitute nutrient-wise BUT it grows much slower, so it is carefully monitored by the Sages so they don't fuck it up.
Speaking of the Womb of the World -- this warm, damp refuge in the otherwise hostile, VERY NORTHERN part of the tundra is a cave warmed by the specific way the permanent Ysse Springs interact with the stones here -- warming the cave to very liveable temperatures year round. The Sages of Saegenheim have built their home here to honor the Gods who brought forth all of humanity. However, most Saegenfolk do not live here year round -- they are semi-nomadic, in that they go to the same few places and settle for the season. Different royal families will lead their people to different places, but those who can afford it will return to winter in the safe, reliable Saegenheim to catch up on news and celebrate Godsweek. They hang new pink lanterns in the streets at the beginning of every new year.
And lastly, when they aren't in Saegenheim, the Saegenfolk are often sailing. And this means they are hunting whale-landsharks, sea serpents, shrimp, and artic carp (articarp, if you will XD).
Now this closeness of location and similarity of lifestyle and respect of the Sages and Gods may lead you to believe that the Saegens are cooperative, extended-family-oriented folks.
No.
Due to the harshness of the environment, a great deal of emphasis is placed on survivability and military. And when everyone is seeking to be better, then you cannot rest for even a moment or you will fall behind. If you are not young enough to be trying to get stronger/cleverer/better/more useful, then you better be teaching others to get there or you're useless. And useless things are to be cast off…
Every family has its own sort of military hazing rituals that involve ridiculously long, cruel, and unnecessary training hours. Admittedly, it's a well-rounded education but there are all these weirdly specific judgements about you, depending on what kind of instruments, weapons, poetry, and cooking recipes you know. And even though your extended family will provide you food and teach you and find your more private tutors as you grow up… you will be constantly compared to your cousins. If you are worse than even one, you are pressed like you are worthless. If you are better than all your cousins and siblings by 200%… why is it not 250%? 300%? You cannot ever be Enough in Saegen culture.
Unless you're a Sage. Sages are judged by entirely different standard. But the number of people who try to become Sages and fail is also… quite large.
Anyway, this might've been poorly organized AND I'm still thinking about all this so if you have thoughts or feedback, let me know ❤️
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