#poly cutters

[shatter-song]

[smile-files]

some bug doodles for @www-grayson-com :D wawa

[queerofthedagger]

my coworker is not a stupid or unempathetic or mean-spirited woman but today we were talking about kids and future plans and she asked what mine were. as I tend to do, I just answered honestly -- that I love kids, but that it's not for me at all. that it never was, that I don't think I have the character for it, that I'm super content being the cool queer aunt/uncle/clanmember, and that I think you shouldn't have kids if you don't 100% want them. I did not say all of this at once, but over the usual growing confusion of are you sure, oh that's strange, etc etc. and it's like, I'm not bothered by this! like I get why many people would be but mostly it gets a tired smile out of me because again, she doesn't mean this in a condescending way at all. she simply does not remotely understand this, she who has pulled her fulfillment for decades from job and children, literally the two things ranking lowest on my list of Fulfillment Needs. she tells me that well, I'm only 31, I still have a couple of years if I do want to change my mind. I tell her if I ever did, there would always be adoption too, but I don't think I will. she says okay, but if you had a partner? someone who really wanted kids? I decide not to get into how I'm pretty content single and how that would simply be a deal-breaker, or that I'd encourage my partner to have kids with someone else then because I'm poly on top of being queer and not having a wish for kids, and this woman is about to retire and well-meaning but said that it's rare that you hear of people that really do not want kids. and again, it's not a bad conversation! it's just a reminder that people live in such different worlds, me surrounded by people whose last desire is to procreate, she by people who think a fulfilling life means a house and two kids and a vacation to spain each year. and sometimes it's just easier to smile and nod and not break an old woman's brain or to take insult at being told, at 31, that like. All That. i'll keep smiling with a bit of pity at the cookie cutter picket fence life, and she will keep smiling with a bit of pity at my catlady-to-be life plan. perhaps, that is just the nature of the thing.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

i'd love to see more from the poly reader x poolverine verse im obsessed w them

"I didn't realize your... roommates were home today," Your sister said helping the youngest into his coat.

"It's what happens when you don't call," you caution. "They live here. You want free babysitting, you accept the terms. Sometimes it's kazoos. Sometimes it's roommates." For now, you'd accept her calling them roommates. It was partly true. And it was less rude than what your mother had said. She called them your caretakers.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at you and you shrugged, "They're fed and in one piece. And Zach has part of his social studies paper done. You're welcome."

She watched for a second as her boys willingly accepted hugs and kisses as you ignored her, beseeching them to learn something at school and make good choices and she sighed, "Thanks."

"Call next time," you tell her giving her a meaningful look. You didn't live alone anymore. And if she didn't want her kids exposed to certain things then she needed to give you enough lead time to hide those things... Today she got lucky.

________________

"Shhh," Wade said, holding up a hand, "You hear that?"

"Hear what?" Logan said opening a beer.

"Silence," Wade sighed, sinking on to the couch next to you, handing you a glass of wine. "Holy shit."

"And that's why I like being the cool Aunt," You tell him yawning. "I show up late. I bring presents. I leave before the crying starts. And then I enjoy my nice quiet house."

Logan snorted and reached over to rub your neck as he took your other side and picked up the remote, "Nice little racket, bub."

You take a sip from your glass and stretch, snuggling into Logan's side and putting your feet in Wade's lap, "Not too shabby, boys."

"For roommates," Wade teased, smacking the bottoms of your feet affectionately. "Didn't know roommates fuck like we fuck."

"Sorry-"

Logan grunted and wrapped his arm around you, "Pause was doin' some heavy lifting there."

"Mom... doesn't approve. What dad knows depends on the day. And I think my grandparents would just drop fucking dead. So. There's that." You lean over and lift a sleepy Mary into your lap and stroke her back before resting your head against Logn again. They are who they are and you are who you are. You don't fit in with the cookie cutter perfect family they have and you haven't from the second you took your first breath. But you fit here with a variant and a mercenary and their ugly little rat dog.

"We could ruin Christmas," Wade offered, "Just go make out in front of-"

"Or," you hum, "we can leave well enough alone so I can still hang out with the kids and let them have someone around that's somehow less fucked up even if I'm objectively a mess."

The boys traded a look and Logan kissed the top of your head. They'd work out the specifics later but for now, as long as your sister kept her comments to herself they'd behave- mostly. As long as it meant you got to see the kids. Because it was clear it made you happy, and because; truth be told, it hadn't been too bad today.

Wade cradled one of your feet in his hand and grinned, "I got a question."

"Might have and answer," you tell him, hissing when his thumb hit a tender spot on your instep.

"Why do all the rugrats call you, Shush?"

"My parent's housekeeper calls me Sugar," you answer. "Everyone sort of adopted it and Zach couldn't say it- so it devolved into Shush and stuck."

"Stop it, that's precious," Wade cooed, "I thought they called you that because they were always telling you to shut-"

"Not all of us went to school thinking our first name was Damn it," you snort.

Logan smirked and let go of you long enough to light his cigar. "What'd she call your sister?" he asked.

"Honey. Or Princess if she was being annoying... it's just that neither ever really stuck."

[armoredisopod]

New Event PV

New Operators

Rose Salt, 5* Welfare Multi-Target Medic

If i find a way to get super rich, i'm sure you'll get your share.

Tecno, 5* Shaper Caster (new branch)

Whether anyone can see it or not, the crystals are still there, but i'm still standing.

Thorns the Lodestar, 6* Alchemist Specialist

I hear the waves crashing at the sides of the boat, heralding our victory.

With this ship at the center, i will interpret my own Iberia.

Operator Outfits Update

Total of 4 new outfits, 1 new addition for the MARTHE brand, 2 new additions for the Shining Steps brand and 1 new addition for the Icefield Messenger brand

MARTHE

Wiping Knife - Cutter (Login Event)

Shining Steps

Dreaming High - Ray

Top Tier Live - Tequila

Icefield Messenger

Inviting Snow - Harold

Harold's outfit will be up for sale during The Rides to Lake Silberneherze Retrospect

Announced outfit reruns

Series V and VI Icefield Messenger outfits (Erato, Greyy the Lightningbearer, Goldenglow, Tsukinogi, Qanipalaat, Penance)

Epoque outfits of Kjera and Puzzle

Operator Modules Update

Rose Salt being part of the Multi-Target Medic branch immediately gets her module

RIN-X module base effect gives Rose Salt an additional tile of range up front

Arts Fighter Guard branch gets 3 module types

Module 1 given to Surtr, Vina Victoria, Guard Amiya and Mousse

Module 2 given to Astesia and Sideroca

Module 3 given to Viviana

Exusiai gets her 2nd module

MAR-Y module base effect increases Exusiai's ASPD by +8 when there are ground enemies within her attack range

Events and Stories

Exodus from the Pale Sea, an Iberia side story event

The traveler who is guided by reason returns to his homeland without common sense.

He saw ships without oars traveling across a sea without water, men without desires hoisting sails without direction,

Saw a man who begged for death condemning himself to live, and a man who was robbed of everything by the sea leaving everything behind and running toward the sea.

How should he understand it, and what can he do to change it?

Uh well, first he has to figure out how to deal with the chains on his body and the gallows not far away, right?

The Rides to Lake Silberneherze Retrospect, scheduled after Exodus from the Pale Sea

Poly Vision Museum, limited time mini-games event, scheduled after The Rides to Lake Silberneherze Retrospect

Operator Archives update for Rose Salt, Tecno, Ceylon and Courier

Record Restore update for The Black Forest Wills a Dream, What the Firelight Casts and Where Vernal Winds Will Never Blow

Misc Stuff

New QoL features

Players will be able to set their birthday in-game and receive birthday rewards

Added special operator voicelines for birthday and new year's day

Added the ability to have multiple assistant operators in rotation and main menu loadouts to switch between assistant rotation and backgrounds and UI themes

New SSS QoL changes

After clearing at least one floor of an SSS mission without a support unit, players can use 2 [Regular Affairs Proxy Cards] to skip an SSS run get rewards based on highest floor completed [PRTS Proxy Annihilation Cards] players get from missions are converted to [Regular Affairs Proxy Cards], they can still be used to skip annihilation Older SSS maps will be rerun

Annihilation #29 - Paddy Field 9-7, annihilation mission with Here a People Sows enemies and mechanics

SSS New Season #7, Concert Security Service - Leithanien Philharmonic Association & Area Under Construction For Dossoles

Erato and her potential tokens along with Perfumer's [Species Plantarum] Outfit will be available in the certs shop to players that don't have them

[astracora]

A Mandated Holiday Break - Chapter 9

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: Suggestive, Sylus has no self control

Word Count: 1630

Written: 23rd December 2024

Notes: Post-relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Masterlist AO3

When asked what you wanted to do with your time off, you’d listed a few things. Things you never got time to do anymore for yourself. One of which was sitting and playing one of the many games you’d collected but never started.

Sylus had nodded, grabbing whatever you needed, helping set things up, and while it had not been his forte or interest, he wanted to sit and watch at least.

You’d apologised, guilty to have time off and wanting to spend it this way. Like there was any reason for you to feel bad for wanting to use rare time to decompress.

“We’re together, that’s enough.” He’d assured you.

“I can’t believe you’re scared, hunter.”

“I’m not scar- Shit. Scared.”

“You fight actual monsters.”

“I’m not scare- Stop crawling out of vents!”

“I’ve seen you kick a knave in the face!”

“Kieran, so help me, if you don’t shut up while I’m trying to focus.”

Sometimes, Sylus thinks, you take care of the twins, and other times, you act like their sibling. Matching their energy, and waiting to fight back when they tease you.

He’s a little worried you’re going to throw your controller across the room.

Luke is stuffing popcorn into his mouth, watching you play some horror game with monsters with too many limbs. While Kieran keeps yelling ‘Behind you!’ in what Sylus is guessing, by your reaction, an unhelpful manner.

He has picked up a book to read, some wine to drink, and a charcuterie board, that he keeps feeding you slices of while you’re focusing. The book is one you’ve read many times, a copy of I Am Legend, its dog-eared. When you’d talked about it, he’d intended to go out and buy it for himself, but you’d shoved your copy into his hands eagerly. Asking him to let you know what he thinks when he’s done.

It’s not the first book he’s borrowed, sometimes he leaves a note in it when he returns it with thoughts, other times you sit down to talk about it. Sylus enjoys cracking open your world as much as he can, and each little story that you’ve brought into your heart, is another fragment or puzzle piece that helps him understand you more and more.

The pink blanket is resting over him and you, as your legs are sprawled out over his lap. His one hand is on your bare thigh, kneading absently while he turns pages, and fights the urge to laugh at yours and Kieran’s bickering.

So every time you flinch, he feels it, a little kick in your leg as you jump. He knows how jumpy you can be, even if you’re not scared. Has snuck up behind you plenty of times while you’re busy, or focused.

“Sylus, I’m going to put a little bell on you, if you don’t learn to walk heavier.”

“Will it come with a cute collar?”

“Is pink alright?”

“Why don’t you have a gun?”

“I do have a gun, it’s just not as good as the plasma cutter.” You stuff some cheese into your mouth, that Sylus offers you, if you were closer he’d feed it to you himself. He’ll have to settle for watching you lick chutney off your finger.

“Use the flamethrower.”

“With what ammo?”

“How are you so bad at this!”

“Kieran if you want to play so bad-”

He’s heard you and the doctor chat when you play games together, but the two of you have a team going, where if you start to get frustrated, he’ll pick up the slack. Kieran is just having fun picking at your play-style. Luke on the other hand, offers to take the controller to help you deal with your current struggle. You hand it over, so you can stop cursing at the… frankly Sylus doesn’t know what he’s looking at.

You catch his look and groan, “Leviathan.” Before cheering Luke on as he begins his struggle.

A shrug is all Sylus can offer, because nothing about this makes sense to him, but he’s glad you’re relaxing. Less tense, less anxious, there’s lighter circles under your eyes. You’ve worn more clothes than just your hunter uniform, and eaten more in these few days, than he thinks you have in two weeks.

So he feels successful, and self satisfied at his role in assisting with your break.

“Yes, there! There!”

He blinks, looks over and feels you lean forward suddenly, shaking Luke’s shoulders. For a second, Sylus thinks you’re going to roll off onto the floor, grabbing at you to keep you stable. A little too much force, with a grip that makes him think you might gain a bruise, and you wince a bit. Pulling back onto the sofa to look at him, confused.

Soothing the place he grabbed with his thumb, guilt simmering. He’s strong, he knows that, and he is normally very careful. He wants to be gentle with you, unless there’s ever a cause for you to ask otherwise, but hurting you is something he’d rather die than do. “Sorry kitten. You looked like you were going to get your face acquainted with the floor.”

Your laugh soothes the worry in him, and you squeeze his hand over your leg for a moment, before going back to your game. Taking the controller off Luke now that the hurdle has been cleared.

Kieran is patting his brother on the shoulder, singing his praises, and you relax again, ready to pick up your progress.

The book isn’t holding his focus as much as he’d like, not because he doesn’t enjoy it, though he wants to ask what your obsession seems to be with vampires, but because your twitching against his hand is distracting. Sylus is a controlled man, or he used to be. So why is it, everything you do distracts him?

He knows the answer, it’s you, of course you distract him.

He sits in business meetings and thinks about you.

He checks his phone when he shouldn’t at auctions.

He daydreams when he should be focusing on the road.

He has stayed up far past when he needs to sleep, hoping you’ll respond to a message he has sent.

He has phoned you before bed, simply to hear your voice because the idea refuses to release him until sated.

You are a great source of distraction, with your precious heart (his heart), and noisy soul (his soul).

Still, he finds the childish part of him, that you unearth without great effort, rears its head in competition.

As you focus on enemies, shining a tiny flashlight in the pitch black, and listening for the noise that signals danger. Sylus moves his hand further up your thigh, to squeeze.

This time, when you jump, he knows its not the monsters.

Your eyes dart to his, wondering if perhaps he has a reason, but he is looking at his, your, book again. Focusing. Not at all looking back at you from behind the pages. So you return to what you were doing, and continue.

He waits, next, for something to jump out at you, before his hand edges up further to knead firmly. This time, your character on the screen gets jumped on as you almost drop the controller.

Hand darting under the blanket to grab his in your grip, but because of that, your character is speared through by a monster.

“Oh come on, those are the easy ones!” Kieran snorts.

You swallow, staring at Sylus, eyes narrowing in challenge and release his hand. Determined, and ready.

He takes that as a point. He leaves you be for a little while, just watching the scrunching of your nose as you shoot and stab your way through enemies, picking up items and running into every corner of the map you can find.

It’s when you’ve finally relaxed, assuming he’s done, that he moves his hand again. It’s just the slightest brush against where you’re most sensitive, but your hips jump and you gasp. Masked by another creature leaping out at you, as shock. But you drop the controller off the sofa, into Luke’s lap, and trap Sylus’ hand between your legs to keep him still.

He doesn’t hide his smirk quick enough with his book this time, you release him enough to give him a swift kick under the blanket, pulling your legs up and away.

This earns a pout, he’s amused that he can distract you, he’s upset that he isn’t still touching you. So he grabs your ankle, and pulls you further down the sofa, so you’re resting more in his lap than out of it, canines gleaming at you. “This more comfortable, kitten, your arms must be going numb.”

The heat coming off you makes him chuckle, enthused by your embarrassment, and when the twins try to hand the controller back, you instead push it back towards them. Standing up and nodding at them, “Keep playing if you want.” You grab Sylus’ hand, and tug, not holding it but leave the room.

“See ya boss.”

“Have fuuun.”

Their grins are matching, and he can’t tell if he finds their insubordination amusing, or discomforting. At this point, it’s just par the course.

Sylus doesn’t think too hard about it, he leaves his book, marked on the page he got to, and dissipate into mist after you.

Reappearing right in front of you to lift you up, legs wrapping around his waist, and arms around his neck. You bite his nose and then his neck, but there’s no venom in it. He becomes far too busy squeezing your legs and kissing, open mouthed up your neck, to really care either way.

He did last a couple of hours watching you play your game after all. It's a record.

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - 18th century poly shifter romance (Part one, sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Well folks, here it is. You said you were interested, so I hope it meets expectations! Here's part one for you, of a multi part story. If you want to kno wmore about it, you can find some more info here, as well as a little 'mood board'.

Content: sfw, the daughter of a country gentleman from Sussex relocates to a sleepy fishing village in Cornwall in order to become the paid companion of a young widow, and meets some of the locals on her arrival. Wordcount: 3972

Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark - Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Laces for a lady; letters for a spy, Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by! ~ from ‘A Smugglers’ Song’, Rudyard Kipling (1906)

In the cool, lavender light of a late spring dawn, a gaff-rigged cutter drew into the sheltering arms of a small bay at high tide, and quietly dropped anchor. As if the soft splash had awoken him, a cockerel spluttered to life in a farmyard somewhere inland, but most of the villagers were already up and awake and steering their small, secret fleet of boats out from the golden crescent of sand beneath the cliffs to meet the waiting ship fresh from Roscoff.

Beneath the waves, where churning kelp moored itself in unyielding handfuls to the ancient granite of the sea floor, a long, serpentine shadow snaked between the stalks, and the currents of the coastline subtly shifted. Any revenue men trying to sail along the coast from Fowey to catch the smugglers would have found the wind and tide set dead against them, and in the subtle wake that wafted from the mottled, eel-like tail as it passed unseen, the waters of the secluded inlet calmed beneath the keels of the scurrying fishing boats. The drag of the oars through the waves lessened, and muscles already tired from heaving and hefting goods up the cliff moved a fraction easier for the unexpected boon.

Between them over the next hour, the gathered men and women shifted their haul of half anker barrels and dozens of crates and boxes of goods ashore. The small kegs of rich, French cognac would fetch a pretty price all across Cornwall, and along with the liquor came smaller luxuries like lace and silk, and bundles of tobacco and spiced tea, all meticulously wrapped in oil cloth to keep the sea and the salt and the water out.

And when the speedy, slender ship was riding noticeably higher in the water, the locals simply melted away into the countryside like so many mice from a late summer granary before the excise men even knew the ship from Guernsey had visited the cove at all.

Fifteen miles away, as the sun breached the horizon and cast its first rays of warmth along bellies of fleecy clouds and the flanks of blossoming hedgerows below, a stagecoach lurched and rumbled westwards along potholed roads, and a young woman stared out of the grimy window as the horses carried her into a new chapter of her life.

After leapfrogging some two hundred miles or so along the staging stations that dotted the South Coast, with nothing but a small trunk of her belongings and a thrice-read, dog-eared novel for company, Eleanor Bywater was more than ready to see the back of that infernal stagecoach. Had it not been for the small but inconveniently bulky travelling case sitting at her feet, she might have hired a horse and ridden from the last staging inn at Plymouth to reach the secluded fishing village of Polgarrack, but given that the trunk held all her worldly belongings, she had not been quite desperate enough to escape the discomfort of hard seats and poor suspension to abandon it.

Bouncing along in the nearly-empty stagecoach, she studiously tried to ignore the older woman sitting opposite her. She’d stared intently at Nel since they'd left Plymouth behind that morning, and her scrutiny had begun to make that last twenty mile stretch feel much, much longer.

Finally, after jouncing over a pothole deep enough to start prospecting for copper ore at the bottom, Nel gasped and then raised her eyes to meet the woman’s openly curious stare. She found sympathy for her own discomfort, and a small degree of kindly amusement too. 

“Where are you headed, miss?” the stranger asked after Nel raised the hint of an eyebrow at her as the silence stretched.

“Polgarrack.”

At that, the woman’s grey eyes narrowed in confusion. “Now what takes a young miss like you to an old fishing village like Polgarrack?”

She looked to be in her fifties, though a life beside the harsh sea had weathered her features somewhat, and her wiry grey hair was covered by a simple linen cap. Her dress was dark and plain, though there was a hint of tired lace around the neck and cuffs. Her hands had the tough, reddened look of someone who scrubbed pots and salted fish, while Nel’s own hands were smooth and soft, if a little ink stained from sending a letter to her friend before leaving the inn that morning.

Nel laughed quietly and shrugged. “There’s no mystery to it,” she said. “I am to be employed as a companion to the widowed Lady Penrose at Heath Top House. I am expected there this afternoon.”

Given that only ladies of relatively high social standing themselves tended to become a ‘lady’s companion’, the older woman made a hasty re-evaluation of her fellow traveller, and her already ruddy cheeks flushed a darker shade as she cleared her throat and looked away.

“Begging your pardon, miss,” she said. “We don’t get many new faces in Polgarrack, is all. I didn’t mean to pry or cause offence with my questions.”

“No harm in a little curiosity,” Nel said, trying to put the stranger at ease to avoid any further awkwardness between them on the remainder of their journey. “I take it you’re from Polgarrack yourself then?”

“Oh, born and raised, miss,” she chortled. She eyed the forest green redingote Nel wore, with its rather masculine high collar, wide lapels and small, gold pocket watch dangling on a chain, and the contrasting sage green skirts beneath, and no doubt made one or two judgements of her own about the young lady. “And yourself? You don’t sound as though you’re from these parts at all, if I may be so bold.”

Nel smiled. “I’ve come from Sussex.”

The woman’s watery, grey-blue eyes widened almost comically and she gasped. “’at's a bloody long way, miss! And all on your own?” She shook her head but remembered herself and mumbled, “Begging your pardon.”

“You’re right,” Nel sighed, letting her gaze slide to the window to watch the countryside roll past in a blur of salt-bleached grass and vibrant yellow gorse flowers. “It is a bloody long way.” And her spine and backside felt every lump and bump and lurch of the stagecoaches from Sussex to Cornwall. With a warmer smile, she turned back to the woman. “My name is Eleanor, but most people call me Nel.”

“Agatha,” she replied with a grandmotherly smile of her own for the young woman. “But everyone calls me Aggie. My husband, Martin, is the village carter and smith, and we’ve got four boys, all of them either fishermen or miners. They all married too, so I’ve got nine grandchildren, if you can believe it!”

Nel offered Aggie her congratulations and another little smile, and then ventured to ask, “Will you tell me a bit about the place? I should like to know more about it, since it is to be my home for the foreseeable future.”

Aggie brightened even more and shuffled her plain, dark skirts, giving a wince and a grunt as the coach lurched over a pothole and the driver cursed audibly above them. Settled, if not entirely comfortable, she began.

“Well, see now. Folks has been fishing these waters for time out of mind. Pilchards is our mainstay, o’course, but the folks over St. Austell way mine clay, and obviously there’s copper and tin mines all over in the north of Cornwall. Mining here is as old as fishing, but it’s starting to dry up here and there now, o’course.”

She barely paused to draw breath before barrelling on, and Nel sat and listened while the older woman talked.

“Now, your Lady Penrose married into the Penrose family — see, she’s from Bath herself originally, though I can’t rightly remember what her family name was, but…” Nel let Agatha's potted history of the fishing and mining community wash over her, paying just enough attention to make polite sounds at the right pauses, but the discomfort of the journey and a decided lack of sleep was beginning to wear her attention span down to a single, fraying thread.

After two hours in the swaying, rolling coach, she felt woozy and weak-stomached, but with Aggie’s near-constant chatter, she at least had a better understanding of the politics of the little village than she’d ever have gained in six months on her own. She’d also learned why Aggie had been in Plymouth, since most folks never had any reason to travel further than the bounds of their own parish. Agatha’s sister’s husband had apparently been killed in the American Revolutionary War some ten years earlier, and since the widow’s health wasn’t the best these days, Aggie made the trip along the coast when she could to see her and take care of her.

Nel’s ticket took her as far as Whitcross, a desolate intersection of paler roads on a clifftop overlooking the tightly-nestled fishing port below, and away across the heather and tufted grass of the heath, she could just see an old manor house in the distance, flanked by tall copper beeches and ash trees. It looked slightly further away than she had anticipated, and she glanced apprehensively down at the travelling trunk at her feet.

Still, she was aching for fresh air and to be free of the sickening motion of the carriage, so she took the driver’s hand and allowed him to guide her safely down onto the hard-packed surface of the road before he lifted her case down for her as well.

From inside, Aggie peered out and scowled disapprovingly. “Now just you wait a moment,” she barked at the driver, who cocked an eyebrow but did pause. “Did they not send someone for you, dearie?” she asked Nel, still leaning out of the doorway and peering about like a disgruntled badger, and using the endearment freely. Apparently, two hours of talking non-stop at Nel had removed any pretence of formality or sense of social distance. Nel might as well have been adopted into Aggie Carter’s family as a niece by that point, and she couldn’t help but smile at the warmth it conjured in her chest.

“I… I never thought that far through,” she admitted, with her hand atop her bonnet as the wind gusted up from the sea below, soaring delightedly over the edge of the cliff and racing on inland as if to continue the momentum of the great rolling breakers that foamed and thundered against the shore. The coachman glanced at his pocket watch and groused something about a schedule that was almost immediately lost to the next inward gust.

“No, no, dearie,” the old woman scoffed. “No, you must come into the village. It’s far too far to go all by yourself, and with that case as well. Here, let me —”

“I can manage the case, I assure you,” Nel said with a gentle smile as Aggie half-toppled, half-leaned out of the coach to pick up the case. “How far is it to the house?”

“Two miles up that hill yonder,” Agatha said, pointing with one gnarled and arthritic finger towards the house on the rise to the north. “Come to the Lantern, and we’ll have one of the lads take you up once you’ve caught your breath.” The Lantern, as Nel now knew thanks to Aggie’s detailed prattling, was the inn at the centre of the village, right on the water near the harbour.

She had been about to protest, but with a sigh, she simply nodded. The constant journeying and jolting had worn her down more than she cared to admit, and while she wasn’t the kind of wallflower she’d met any number of times in London during the Season, a life led mostly indoors with few opportunities for physical activity had not prepared her for a two mile walk in heavy, too-fine clothes, carrying an unwieldy case in gusty conditions. Her family had been invited a number of times to Goodwood House to walk the large park there, and she had frequently ridden a rather spirited mare through the parkland of Lavington Hall with her dear friend William, so she was not entirely unused to the great outdoors, but she did have to admit that her experiences had been rather more curated and sanitised than the wild expanse of heathland visible on all sides of the stagecoach from Whitcross.

“You’re kind, Agatha,” she said, and let the woman heft her case into the otherwise empty coach.

The thing about a tiny village was that an outsider stood out a mile, and a young lady in her mid twenties and dressed in impractical, rich green clothes, stood out like a beacon in a dark night. Everyone turned to watch her as she disembarked from the coach. At home, she had barely garnered a look from anyone. Being the centre of everyone’s curiosity there was novel and, in a word, horrifying.

She almost blurted aloud that one would think she was a revenue man come inspecting for smuggled goods, but she bit it back just in time. Cornwall’s so-called ‘free trade’ and smuggling rackets were absolutely none of her concern as an outsider, infamous though they may be, and it would do her no good to start sticking her nose where it did not belong.

The Lantern was a half-timbered, two-storey building that faced the walled harbour. Its painted sign was peeling and sun-bleached, and it squawked something dreadful as it swung back and forth in the squalling wind. Mullioned windows glinted and shimmered, though the small, diamond panes were caked with a haze of salt spray, and alongside the inn, a hand-cart rumbled down from a narrow side alley towards the harbour beyond, where fishing boats bobbed on their mooring lines at the lapping high tide.

Agatha pushed open the black-painted door but came to an abrupt halt as someone appeared to be leaving the inn at the exact same moment, and nearly barrelled into her and Nel.

“Oh, excuse me,” came a young man’s hoarse tenor, and he stepped aside within the inn’s small porch to allow the two women to enter before he left.

Nel noted briefly that he wore well-made but plain clothes, and carried a hefty looking cane in his left hand, upon which he leaned while he waited for them to pass. He was pale and thin, his undyed linen shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his light brown hair was tied back at the nape of his neck into a horsetail. The moment he met her eye, he inhaled in surprise and almost immediately looked away, his large, dark brown eyes turning shy and uncertain. “M’lady,” he mumbled without looking up.

She didn’t have time to correct him and tell him she had no such title, because the moment she had stepped inside, he was off out into the day beyond, limping markedly on his right leg as he went.

Nel turned back to find Agatha waiting for her, watching. “That there was young Edmund Nancarrow,” she supplied as Nel caught up with her. “Local lad. Lots of Nancarrows in this area,” she chuckled. “Can’t move for tripping over a Nancarrow. He was a shy, skittish thing even before he went off to war in the Colonies and came back with a bad leg,” she added. “But he’s a sweetheart if ever I saw one. Tailor’s ’prentice he is now.”

At that, Nel just nodded. Something in her ached when she realised she probably wouldn’t have much to do with the folk from the village once she was ensconced up at Heath Top House, and she half wised she could. They already sounded far more interesting than the Lady Winnifred Penrose, with whom Nel had only exchanged a short flurry of letters before becoming formally engaged as her ‘companion’. 

Still, an unmarried woman of Nel’s age and social standing was considered almost past her prime, and given that the few marriage proposals she had received had faded into the mists of her very early adulthood, she had had to find another respectable way to support herself. Hence, Heath Top House.

Aggie bustled her into the main room of the pub, and their arrival caused a flurry of activity that drew the eyes of a good few patrons. 

Seated at the wooden bar inside, hunched over a pewter tankard, sat a tall, bulky man in his late-thirties or early forties, with long, thick, dark grey hair shot through with a shimmer of silver white. He had it tied back off his face in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck and as he turned to regard Nel’s arrival, she met unusually deep green eyes surrounded by a web of crows’ feet lines in a tanned, weathered face. His scowl was dark and full of suspicion, but even the storm clouds in his expression couldn’t mask the fact that he was handsome, in a rugged, rough-hewn kind of way.

When she saw where Nel’s attention had snagged, Aggie let out a little gasp and snatched her by the upper arm to steer her towards an empty table in a bay window, about as far from the wooden bar where the man still sat and glared at them as it was possible to be. 

“And that’s Locryn Trevethan,” Aggie hissed as she saw Nel settled into a seat. “Can’t say as I’ve seen him in here more than a handful of times this year though. He’s usually out on the water. Lives alone in an old stone cottage round the bay from here, up at Pilchard Sands. You’d probably best be giving him a wide berth, miss. Not that he should give you any trouble, mind,” she amended carefully, “But he’s not for the likes of you to go mingling with.”

Nel smiled at the protective tone in the older woman’s voice, and nodded once.

With her warning given, Aggie raised her voice and called over to the old man behind the bar. “’ere, Tom! This young lady needs a ride up to Heath Top. You think you can arrange that for her?”

The stoop-shouldered, white-haired man nodded and knuckled his forehead at Nel across the space. “Not the finest, but we got a cart.”

“If you have a horse, I could ride,” she said, trying to be helpful.

“Ain’t got a saddle for a lady,” he said regretfully.

Memories of galloping through the leafy trees of Lavington Hall’s parkland with William flashed across her mind and she suppressed a smile. She certainly hadn’t ridden the grey mare side-saddle while keeping up with her childhood friend, and although it had been a year or so since she’d sat astride a horse instead of side-saddle, she thought she could manage well enough. “I know how to ride a man’s saddle,” she said, “But I do have a travel case I’d need to send someone back for.”

“I could get one of the lads to bring that up for you after,” said Tom, “But it’s almost as much effort to hitch up a cart as it is to tack up a horse for riding, ma’am.”

“Whatever is the least trouble for you will do fine,” she said, and the stoic, weather-beaten old man’s red cheeks darkened and he ducked his head.

While Tom left to sort out transportation to the house, Aggie flapped about getting some refreshments for Nel, leaving her to wait at the table alone.

In the wake of the hubbub and pother Agatha left behind her, Nel took a long, deep breath looked around to find Locryn Trevethan still staring across the room at her. Taken aback by his directness and the intensity of his glare, she tried to smile, but his expression remained thunderous beneath strong, dark brows, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

In a face turned to leather by the sun and sea-wind, wide cheekbones and a heavy brow framed his piercingly green eyes. Never mind that marked crow’s feet around his eyes that made him look like he would rather have been laughing; the contrast between the dark, hostile glower and the soft laughter lines unnerved her and made her feel off-balance, as though her stranger’s presence in their local pub had unknowingly raised the ire of a usually gentle man. 

He had a short, neatly-trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard around full lips that were currently turned down at the corners and which bore a silver-pink scar across the middle. Despite the warm day, he wore a fisherman’s dense, woollen sweater, and when she risked another look back at him, she found him still frowning openly across the bar at her.

Nel didn’t relax until Aggie returned, at which point the man snapped abruptly out of his trance, slammed a coin down on the bar, and strode from the pub on long legs that were thick as tree trucks at the thigh. The door bounced back off the plasterwork in his wake and his boots rang on the flagstones outside.

“Not one to welcome strangers, I take it,” Nel muttered, and downed half of the cheap, watered-down wine that Agatha had set on the table for her.

“Oh don’t you pay him no mind, miss,” Aggie scoffed, settling herself down into the seat opposite her like a brooding hen and glaring at the pub door. “He don’t seem to like no one in Polgarrack save for sweet Ned Nancarrow, strangely enough. Then again, I ain’t met no one who’s taken a disliking to sweet Ned. Now, Tom will have the horse and cart ready for you in just a moment, but you just take your time and recover after your journey.”

Nel, who had felt ten times better the moment she’d taken her first proper lungful of sea air on stepping out of the swaying stagecoach, looked across the table into the older woman’s face and found a mother’s kindness and compassion in her wrinkled face, and something twisted in her gut. “You’re very kind,” she whispered, unable to muster anything more. “Thank you.”

She chuckled. “You know, and don’t you take this amiss, but you remind me of my niece a little, though she’s a little younger than you.”

Nel’s eyebrows twitched in wry amusement, and Agatha blushed at the impropriety of her words. Nel didn’t get the chance to reassure her because Tom shuffled back in and told her the cart was ready for her.

She laid a coin on the table for the wine and stood, following the innkeep out into the yard and clambering up with her case into the back of the cart. It was hardly a very dignified mode of transport for someone of her station, and when Tom said as much while they rumbled out of the inn’s yard, Nel just laughed and said she didn’t mind.

“Anything is better than that awful rolling stagecoach,” she beamed, and swung her legs back and forth like a child off the back of the cart bed while Tom clucked his tongue at the horse to hurry up.

As they trundled up the narrow, cobbled street from the harbour, they passed Edmund Nancarrow standing outside a tailor’s shop, talking with the beast of a man from the bar. Both men looked up and watched her pass like she was some kind of rare spectacle.

In a way, she supposed she was. 

Still, she smiled at them despite her nerves, and Edmund knuckled a non-existent cap at her with a shy smile, while Locryn just glared.

She sighed and wondered what this next chapter in her life would bring.

___

Next chapter ->

Well, what did you think of it so far? I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it, as always!

I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it. Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[abitohoney]

So after a recent Big Move™️, I’ve finally gotten my household goods delivered to my new home. WOOT WOOT.

And as I pulled out some baking/muffin pans, I thought

Damn. I’d like to think I’d be rough and tough and a “don’t look at me wrong or I’ll punt your ass over a high-rise” sort of girl boss in the Arcane world.

But realistically all I want is to bake some treats for Sev and Ran. Make sure they’re eating good. Dust off and adjust their collar before they head out on a mission/task or to a meeting or whatever. Pack them little snacks or lunchboxes. Pretend to not be fussy over them since I also have my own work but actually unintentionally show ✨affection✨. Give them a goodbye kith. Be a lil Susie-homemaker in denial.

Also this moonshine is kind of hitting hard send help

OMG congrats on the big move! I still remember my first big move! Exciting (and exhausting)! Hopefully you're past the exhausting part and slipping into chill mode.

Hard same on thinking I'd be a kick ass girl boss in Arcane but really just wanna be Sev and Ran's little Honey homemaker. 🤓

Some silly, cute, fluffy thoughts inspired by this below the cut. SFW believe it or not.

Fussing over them and packing them lil snacks and lunches sounds like a dream! 🤩 Gosh, just imagine packing them both a little paper sack lunch for the first time. They just give you a look like "Seriously? What am I, 8?" Meanwhile you're just smiling at them adoringly.

Maybe they both sit with the rest of Silco's cronies come lunch time. They're already feeling ridiculous carrying they're matching paper sack lunches, but they're just assuming it's gonna be some lame old bologna sandwiches and stale leftover chips from the last Jericho's dinner.

They simultaneously open their bags to pull out not just any old sandwich, rather it's the freshest looking bread they've ever seen, holding equally fresh greens, meats, and cheeses. And best worst of all, you'd used cookie cutters to cut them into heart shapes. Sevika and Ran exchange glances, brows raised. They both set the sandwiches down, behind their bags, hoping to hide them from the rest of the gang, only to pull out more incriminating lunchables. Several slices of pineapple, cut into disgustingly cute little stars. Then comes the veggies, cause of course you made sure their lunches were a complete balance of nutrition. Chubby little baby carrots arranged on a thick homemade hummus in a flower design. One little cherry tomato decorates the center.

The coup de grâce to their humiliation? Custom, tiny cupcakes decorated in bright pink, red, and purple icing and bedazzled with heart shaped sprinkles of the same colors.

Another exchange of glances, cheeks flushed, then eyes averted downward. Neither dare make eye contact with anyone else at the table. Not that any of them would dare to even so much as snicker at Silco's second in command or top assassin. Not if they valued their life.

So Sevika and Ran consume their entirely too cute lunch in silence. It's an uncomfortable one, but deep down, beneath those hard exteriors, their hearts swell with pride and joy. They have someone like you- who cares so much- to so lovingly select, create, and craft the sweetest of lunches. And just for them. ♥️

Sending help ASAP! (It's just me in a box with holes so I can 'help' you finish off that moonshine)

Also, every time you send me something ISTG I get such a strong itch to write my poly Sev x Reader x Ran fic. I will some day. (Still anxiously patiently waiting for your writing too! <3)

[saltysplayt00ns]

WOW have not given a confirm from Roamer and already jumping guns.

From the duration of the whole Kique trying to start this poly thing of two of the most red flag characters to pedestal However Rogio is on Roamers:

and Kargo love interest is on Roamer:

From looking over the type of poly relationship it would end up being either a Hierarchical polyamory, Polyfidelity, Solo polyamory or a Triad. But since it's kique it's more likely to be a triad with Hierarchical instead of something of equally grounding everyone; they ( kiq. ) will mainly focus the attention and love all on Rogio but having it where Rogio and Kargo caring about Roamers needs. in hindsight if Roamer focusing all his care and attention on Rogio the sadly Kargo will have to follow along. That's not a relationship that's a coercion of someone who is emotionally being pulled around just like another who was pulling roamer around as well;

And you know who been doing that for all through Home comic??? ROGIO, Rogio so far has been manipulating, gaslighting, mansplaining, victimizing and done toxic/abusive traits that is not appropriate. "but he's not hitting or screaming at his face so its not bad??" Just because its not shown loud in your face doesn't mean it's not their. Just because a meat-eating Predator is not chasing you down immediately after making eye contact on you, doesn't mean it's not a wild, carnivore. It's the same with Herbivores which so many overlook because it can't eat us and it's harmless when actually they're just as unpredictable as a carnivore. A lot of things happen behind doors and others figured out how to not make it obvious. These are usually Covert Coercion/abuse that is so subtle your can miss it or overlook it. Like slow boiling a frog in a pot.

We have seen from the beginning how Rogio was from the first chapter and given context of how he is overtime. Roamer is very naïve and gullible to be used under Rogio's dispense and whenever Roamer speaks up or states an opinion Rogio does not like. he gives Roamer the silent treatment and cuts all connections to him, practically ghosting and pretending he doesn't exist. You see it all through Chapter 11 through Chapter 12. And Later see Rogio been observing from the distance on Chapter 13.

That later had Roamer to lash out his frustrations on other people AND be depressed/mope around cause he's been giving all that love and attention to abruptly giving the cold turkey.

Also pointing out that Javo is not a warrior but Fremja is, So why Roamer doesn't train with someone who is an established role but would fight someone who is not of equal task and someone who is far weaker then him??!!. Frenja has fought with Roamer during Avanti and traveled with him when they left to meet Kargo and Ferah again. She has a track record - Javo does not. it's very subtle misogyny of having the females laying around or doing nothing when the barrier is basically down to open attacks, while males are being the active ones. The group should be at least planning to build a smaller barrier or doing something to be prepared. Later it bite them when IT DID HAPPENED of raiders coming in. You say meteor has changed but examples like these contradicts it.

------ I have seen ENOUGH comics, fanfictions of stories of people who does that including the toxic tactics. And now Rogio left the weight all on Roamers shoulder to do the decisions FOR him, there's has been no return of the conversation of Roamer agreeing to it with Rogio or stating more of his opinion on the matter. Roamer will just agree to it AND IF HE DOESN'T ROGIO WOULD DO THE COLD SHOULDERS AGAIN!!. This is very new territory with different opinions and backstories, cause Meteor tribe has shown to NOT BE POLYAMORUSE. Neither Asmundr or any cookie cutter tribes in Home except possibly southSpear, but that is more an orgy to pass the time being in a boring desert.

I call that BS on them all laughing and having fun together cause all of that happened with Kargo and Roamer and later Roamer dump Kargo to be all happy with Rogio.

it would've been interesting done by a competent author, but the comic is already being rushed even more, since its confirmed there is 4 chapters including the recent one left.

The author has so far been doing the same stuff/traits Rogio has been doing and is willing to bend out of shape and reality to protect Rogio, a fictional and dangerous character to portray and claim as the ' idea character ' to follow and sympathized.

Side note:

I also learned that Feomah; the mother of Diarko and Diarko was an idea from a fallen individual with Kiq. So the possible reason Feomah is separated from Diarko is because of that and now Diarko will be used as a scapegoat for Rogio innocents and that the toxic Poly thing between RxRxK is a good thing. " we can't separate now since Diarko sees us all as parental figures under him." yeah let's have a child who was subjugated through trauma of cults by his tribe, genocide, prejudice by the canines to be given more trauma under meteor who had to move further away from his blind mother and got attacked twice by raiders. instead of being with their mother who is safe in a tranquil area with more members then meteor. Also forcing for Diarko to fight instead of giving him a choice if he wants that or do a different role. No wait that's not manly enough for males to do. 🙄

[bowserbowser29]

thoughts on poly cutters/whispangolin and softshell (lanolin x jewel)

Lanolin's never been a character that's stuck with me much to be honest. I don't hate her, but I don't really like her that much either. Pretty much any ship with her I'm mostly neutral on.

The one exception is probably her and Surge, but that's only because themightyhumanbroom makes it so good.

But for the two you mentioned...eh. They're alright.

[shatter-song]

Gods above and below, there’s just no end to any of-!

“You’re still here?”

Lanolin jolts and looks around wildly for the source of the words spoken before landing on a familiar wolf and she feels herself relax again. Or at least, a specific definition of "relax" for the sleep deprived leader anyway.

“Gods, Whisper!” She said, “You scared me half to death."

(or: Lanolin has overworked herself into the night yet again so Tangle and Whisper take action.)

come get your poly cutters

[thefakehedgehogaroundhere]

i rlly want to see 3D models of surge kit and the diamond cutters in their riders outfits and with the same low poly shapes and overly cartoony expressions as the og sonic riders

[msnogood]

Pocket-sized Teddy Bear

A little miniature teddy bear made with sweatshirt fabric scrap, threads, some beads, and sewing pins!

It came out looking like a combo of Wes Anderson’s Fantastic Mr. Fox and Bad Bob from Rex the Runt. Both are my favoritest animation so I’m quite chuffed with it. Also it has good hand-feel.

Keep reading to see the process!

Materials:

Sweatshirt fabric (another odd scrap from a gift bag from some random online purchase)

Sewing threads

1 small black bead for the nose

2 white glass beads for the eyes*

2 metal head sewing pins for the eyes*

Black paint marker for the eyes*

Poly fill

Awe, or a toothpick

* Alternatively just use 2 larger black beads for eyes

Tools:

Sewing needle

Scissors

Wire cutter

2 nose-tipped pliers

To make the bear:

Cut out a piece of body.

Sew it onto another piece of fabric with back-stitch. Then cut out my excess fabric. Make sure the desired fabric side are facing towards each other on the inside when you sew. Leave a gap on its head.

Flip the body inside out. You can use a toothpick or something similar to help with flipping the limbs.

Sew a nose. Flip it inside out.

Sew it on the bear face with ladder stitch. Then stuff it with polyfill.

Sew on black bead for the nose tip.

Add some optional buns on the back by making one single long stitch from the bottom to the tip of bun, then tightening the thread, and knot it back at the bottom. Make sure to grab some polyfill through the stitch to make your bear buns plump.

Paint the heads of the 2 sewing pins with black paint markers. Give it half a day to completely dry. Plush each of them through a white bead. Then use pliers to slowly create a loop on the back of each bead so they become a sort of buttons. Cut the end of the pins with wire cutter.

Gently create 2 holes where the eye should be with the awe or toothpick, without cutting the fabric. Just push the fabric around to make one of its hole bigger and bigger. Big enough to allow you to shove the back loop of your eyeballs through the fabric.

Once the 2 eyeball back loops are pushed through the fabric, tie them with each other with some threads. Make sure it’s just tight enough so the eyes won’t fall out but lose enough so they aren’t squeezed together and distorting the face.

Close up the head gap with ladder-stitch.

Sew 2 ears with back-stitch. Flip them inside out.

Sew them onto bear head with ladder-stitch.

And you have yourself a mini teddy bear plushie!

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Do you have any tips you'd be willing to share on getting starting with quilting? I want to try but there seems to be a lot and I don't know where to begin. Or how. If not, I understand. Either way, I hope you're well

First, do you know how to sew? If you don't, a lot of quilt shops and fabric stores (like Joann Fabrics) offer classes, often for free.

Second, do you have a sewing machine? If not, I recommend a thrift/secondhand store and taking the machine to a place that repairs them. I found a local place via the NextDoor app. The licensed retailers often charge outrageous prices, so I opt for independent folks. They aren't licensed to sell machines, but they can repair them. Quilt shops will also know people who perform maintenance and repairs, and they may do so in-store, so ask. I pay $90/machine (for both computerized and manual), and the licensed retailer in my area charges $150/machine, even the manual ones.

For fabric, speak to quilt shop owners about their scrap collections. Many of them will have bins and bins of the stuff. That was the first place I got good quality fabric for pennies. One of my local quilt shops (all quilt shops are independent, Joann Fabrics is not) sells scrap fabric for $6/large zipper freezer bag. The bag had to be able to close, that was the only rule.

For thread, there's a lot of debate on what's the best. I started with cheap cotton thread. It makes a lot of lint, but it was extremely inexpensive, just $5/1200 yards. You want size 50 for sewing and piecing. I favor size 30 for handquilting because it's thicker, stronger, and makes for some visual interest when I use contrasting colors.

For quilt batting, get it on sale. I buy mine at Joann Fabrics, and opt for cotton because I like the way it feels. Polyester and poly-cotton blends are less expensive, often half the price of cotton. They're good options for limited budgets.

Other notions: pins, rotary cutter (I use one with a 60mm blade), rotary ruler (clear plastic with a grid, at least 4 inches wide), cutting/craft mat with a grid, scissors, iron and ironing board (I got mine at a department store for super cheap), and bobbins, all of which are available at craft stores. Remember to do your shopping during sales and with coupons because those discounts make a HUGE difference.

For patterns, I have a pinned post on my blog with links to free pattern sites. If you want to support your local library, go check out quilt books there. Some libraries also offer classes and will direct you to places that offer supplies for free or nearly free. There's a local program in my area that offers a boxed kit with nearly everything you need to learn a new craft without spending a lot of money. They may have staff members who will teach you. Video tutorials by @teresadownunder have worked really well for me; I'm autistic with ADHD, which makes learning some things really difficult. She explains things really well, with lots of visuals and written text. It was was her videos that taught me how to do foundation paper piecing.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I highly recommend going to a local quilt shop. They will be absolutely thrilled to teach you. A new member to the cult of quilting? This is wonderful news! One of my blog followers here was really shy about approaching anyone in person because they're a guy and quilting is traditionally a woman's art. He wanted to surprise his grandmother with a quilt because she always made quilts for the rest of the family, but no one had bothered to learn how to make quilts. He's now the family quilter and has thrilled his grandmother with two quilts now. Sure, his sisters tease him, but he no longer cares because quilting is very satisfying work. It only looks complicated, and some of the more advanced patterns are, but that's why I share WIP pics. Y'all can see that it's really quite simple...and it makes my ADHD brain very happy because there's so much immediate gratification. The first time I made corners meet, I did a squealing happy dance.

Good luck, and remember to be patient, take breaks, and have fun. Oh, and set an alarm for every 90 minutes because you may get really into the work.

[marionrav]

Trying out a new craft

ShannonMakes did some neat videos about using English Paper Piecing as a way to have an ultra portable project. I remember, many moons ago when I was in college, all the talk about EPP was that you needed perfection in cutting the paper, glue or freezer paper methods, mountains of thread and almost 8 yards of fabric for a twin / single quilt ( 55" by 83" on average.)

Obviously the fabric usage hasn't changed.

Due to laser cutter and other automatic cutter prices, you can buy about 300 bits of stiff cardstock for about 15$. The average 1.5" by 3" wide hexagon needs about 700 ish hexagons for a basic twin sized quilt. (Go here for a calculator. While it doesn't account for odd shapes, you can still use estimation for other shapes.) You can reuse cardstock.

A lot of people on the internet talk about using various automatic cutters for fabric, but I'd sooner play around with a craft with minimal supplies before I buy things to make it faster. The internet swears on seam allowances from 1/4" up to under 5/8". Other people use charm squares / circles, since your main accuracy is from your paper shape.

I'm using a quilt as a random "use case" option, but obviously you could do curtains for sun blocking / warmth or use the finished fabric for bags / cushions / fabric.

Why is it portable? Imagine a pile of paper shapes, a needle, a thimble because you love the skin of your hand, a spool of thread, your pre-cut fabric, and some sort of thread snips. That could fit in a bag the size of a generous paperback. Since each hexagon can be paused mid sewing, you've got something where you can drop everything if needed. Once you've run through all your hexagons, you can then start sewing them together. This means you get two "activities" out of one batch of supplies.

With hexagons around a central hexagon, you can remove the paper, and continue as you wish. (From a second hand aspect, Shannon recommended interfacing dubious fabrics or packing a lining fabric and cutting thick fabrics to a larger seam allowance. She also said the basting step could totally use rotten / weak thread if you have thrifted some shady thread.)

Why does this interest me? I have issues thrifting fabric in the area, since our local stores rarely have good options, but Swanson's Fabric has charming people running it and adorable themed bundles.

So, I picked up some fabrics I loved, intending on using them for garments, looked at Shannon's video, and decided to try a new craft.

Just for accountability, cost outlay was 50$ for the fabric, 5$ for some sewing clips which I wanted to pick up anyways, and 15$ for the paper pieces. I've got an old sheet that could be backing fabric, or I could spend another 50$ to do the back side of the quilt. On average, actual quilt backing fabric tends to be about 40$ for the "right" sized panel. The average price for twin sized quilt batting seems to be about 30$ for higher end stuff, but I haven't checked local stores.

A "better" quality half poly twin sized quilt (not ethical, or by a quilting artist, mind you,) runs about 130$ and fully cotton quilts (with the same warnings) tend to be 250$ from what I've seen. Knowing I could turn a project into a cozy, economical, and ethical quilt in exactly the colors I love is exciting, no?

[visceravalentines]

House of Wax Masterlist

the brain rot is so, so chronic. I love this goddamn movie.

Bo Sinclair

A Gentleman and a Scoundrel Masterlist Bo Sinclair is your dad's best friend. To you, he's so much more. NSFW Dilf!Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

Why Are You Here? You and Bo aren't together anymore. So why does it piss you off so much to see him here with a date? NSFW Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

The Devil Himself He's brutal, frightening. It turns you on. NSFW Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

Workaholic You know it's bad when Bo says you've been working too hard. SFW Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

Did You Touch Yourself While I Was Gone? He gave you explicit instructions, and now he's got to teach you a lesson. NSFW Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

These Violent Delights You don't want to do it anymore. He's not going to let you leave. SFW Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

Carnival Games You fucked up beyond forgiveness. He's going to let you try to leave. SFW Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

Date Night You're his captive and he'd like to have a cozy night in. NSFW Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

His Sequel to "Date Night." You're still his captive, mostly. NSFW Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

Breakfast Food He's wearing an apron and cooking you pancakes the end. SFW Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

It Ain't Georgia, But It's Close Enough Bo Sinclair meets the devil

I'm So Dirty, Babe He's really sweaty and you wax introspective about your feelings for him. NSFW Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

Blurb: Bo in Panties

A Gun is a Lonesome Creature Drinking with Bo is a bad idea. He has a worse one. NSFW Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

Worship Dilf Bo eats you out in a confessional booth. That's it that's the fic. NSFW Dilf!Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

Dumbification high sex with a meanie who's mean. NSFW Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

cane-cutter blues you are a girl or you are rabbit and either way you are sad. NSFW Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

fever dream it's August and you love him and you hate him and you're haunted. NSFW Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

sometimes he sleeps in the church a smol, sad blurb

small town, sunday night he's an asshole and that's just what you like. NSFW Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

Vincent Sinclair

For Your Safety, I'll Be Gentle He's always so reserved. For once, you want him to let loose. NSFW Vincent Sinclair x GN!Reader

The Dusty Shelf You take Vinny on a bookstore & coffee date. SFW Vincent Sinclair x GN!Reader

Dawn He's pretty all the time, but especially when he's sleeping. SFW Vincent Sinclair x GN!Reader

Blurb: College!Vincent x GN!Reader

You Can Get Louder, Can't You? Show Me Vincent doesn't speak but he sure makes noise. NSFW Vincent Sinclair x GN!Reader

Lester Sinclair

Lester's Nightmare He's really never stopped being a little kid at heart. SFW Lester Sinclair x GN!Reader

Once I Start, I Can't Stop Don't underestimate him. He's just as feral as his brothers. NSFW Lester Sinclair x GN!Reader

Blurb: Caught in the Rain with Dilf!Lester

D: All of the Above

All You Have is Your Fire Bo spends his childhood standing up for Vincent. This time, he gets arrested.

Sinclair Household HCs

Sleepy Sinclair HCs

Blurb: Twin Angst

Tourniquet Victor & Trudy meet their (un)timely end

Ambrose Ghosts It ain't easy growing up in a haunted house

Blurb: Kissing All Three Dilf!Sinclairs

Headache HCs

12 Days of Cleaning the Sinclair House

I Only Have Eyes for You (and You, and You) Dancing in the kitchen with all three of your boys. SFW Poly!Sinclairs x GN!Reader

A Matching Set of Spoons Midnight cuddle puddle. SFW Poly!Sinclairs x GN!Reader

The Sundress A little friendly competition in which you are really the winner. NSFW Poly!Sinclairs x AFAB!Reader

Never Again Obligatory we-almost-died-but-we-didn't fic. SFW Poly!Sinclairs x GN!Reader

Four's Company Good thing you have so many holes, darlin'. NSFW Poly!Sinclairs x AFAB!Reader

Part of the Family You decide you'd like to contribute to the family business, but it ends up being too much for you. Your boys make sure you're okay. SFW Poly!Sinclairs x GN!Reader

Blurb: Taking Care of Sick Sinclairs

Novelty Mugs Watching a thunderstorm in good company. SFW Poly!Sinclairs x GN!Reader

Wet Dream You're in Bo's bed and at the mercy of Vincent. NSFW Poly!Sinclairs x AFAB!Reader

A Place for You Cuddling the twins after a long day. SFW Poly!Sinclairs x GN!Reader

Blurb: Creepy Obsessed Sinclairs