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basicallyjaywalker · 3 months ago

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Trying To Make Something Out of Clay

It only took me getting back at school to finish editing this! I am not kidding good grief

Anyways! At long last @cboffshore I deliver you: JAY! my specialty

Prompt: Jay, Look Who’s Inside Again by Bo Burnham, eagle, fastidious, pardon, clay, separation, earthquake, and protest

AO3 Link

Fic also under the cut!

Pottery classes wouldn’t have been Jay’s first idea for a birthday gift to himself, but he could never dodge his mother’s chipper voice in his head.

Coupons! They’re like an excuse to do things. Always keep your eyes out for the real deals… From there, she’d go into a spiel about good versus bad deals, ones designed to make you spend money rather than save it, and eventually that would develop into discussions of unit prices and store brands and what-have-you about “mother’s know-how.”

All that to say, when the coupon came in for “Free Pottery Lessons!” with the purchase of a starter pack, Jay knew how to calculate the value. Cost was the starter pack, lessons would cover all of the basics of pottery, he would be able to make more cool gifts for his friends and family… worth it. Plus, the studio said once he finished his lessons, he was still welcome to come back and use their equipment to mold and fire the clay. Plus plus, if he decided he didn’t like it, he could always use the clay and tools in the starter kit for another project. No matter what, there wasn’t a way to lose! His mom would be so proud.

And that was how he ended up sitting in front of a clay-stained table, almost a month after his birthday, sculpting. Now Nya’s birthday was coming up and he was making her a seagull figurine. Unfortunately, they hadn’t gotten to the “figurine” part in his basics classes, so Jay was having to wing it with what he knew. However, what he knew seemed to be very lumpy and not very gull-like.

He frowned, examining the vaguely bird-shaped lump of clay on the table. Its legs were short and thick, holding the uneven, bulbous body up off the table. Jay had thought he made wings, but they seemed to be lost within the sinking mass. The head was little more than a drooping oval, the end of which molded into the torso much too high up (or maybe this gull's neck was just in the middle of its spine).

… Yeah, he couldn’t pass this off as a seagull. He could barely pass it off as a bird. Maybe he should just make Nya something else.

Just as he reached to put his tools up, the studio door opened behind him and he spun around to see his teacher, Kat, in her clay stained apron.

“Ah, pardon me,” She smiled at him and raised her hand in a wave, it was stained reddish orange, “just grabbin’ somethin’ for my next group. Whatcha makin’?”

“Something for Nya,” Jay said, trying to shield the misshapen heap from her view. The light-up grin on Kat’s face told him he failed.

“What a lovely turtle! I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“It’s supposed to be a seagull.”

“Oh.”

Jay sighed. “Yeah, we’re not quite there yet.”

“Well,” she clapped her hands together, sending a few splatters of rust-colored clay flying, ”trust the process! It’ll turn out swell, I’m sure. Do you need a reference?”

“That might help,” was what he said out loud. What he thought was, I know what a seagull looks like. I don’t think looking at another one is going to help. Still, he managed to hold his tongue. As much as he liked Kat, some days, her teaching just bugged him. She always went on about “the process.” Trust the process! Everything looks bad until it’s done! Sometimes, it even looks bad after, it’s just the artist's way.

As she left the room, Jay continued ruminating on that idea. Trust the process. He stared at the ugly lump on his table. He wasn’t sure “the process” could save this one. Still, he supposed giving it a try was better than giving up.

Frowning, he tried to fix the head, adding some clay to make it rounder, more… sharp? Less like a turtle. A few globs there, a dab here, some shaping… hey! Now that was a seagull. The legs could use some carving, but they were sleeker now; he could actually make out the shape of wings in the blobby body, and the neck wasn’t coming out of the middle of the spine! Jay could almost envision the thing trying to steal his french fries on the beach, as long as he was squinting really, really hard. Slowly, he drew his hands away.

Immediately, the head drooped and detached from the rest of the body.

“Oh, come on!” Jay exclaimed just as Kat walked back in and interrupted what was about to be a long string of words about the clay, gravity, and the concept of seagulls in general. In her hands she cradled a majestic gull perched on a rock, caught mid-caw.

“This is from one of our old students. She left it here and never came back, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you used it as reference.”

“Thanks.” Jay took the figurine and examined it. It was a simple shape, lots of round circles, and some small details for the wings and feet. It looked easy enough to make. Looked being the keyword.

Kat looked at the self-decapitated bird and tilted her head. “Fix-it attempt gone horribly, horribly wrong?”

He nodded, pursing his lips.

“You’ll get it,” she said, spirited as ever, “it just takes some time to master, y’know? New skills and all that.”

He nodded again. She’d told him the same thing during his first few lessons, when the teacup he tried to make for Master Wu ended up looking more like a soup bowl made by an avant-garde artiste. He knew she was right, it was just the way learning went, but it didn’t stop the nagging irritation he felt staring at the pathetic pile of muddy material in front of him.

“I’ve gotta get my next class started, lemme know if you need anything else.”

One last nod and Kat was gone, leaving him alone again. Jay sat down and continued to stare at the distended body. He placed his new reference next to it and felt the minute bit of confidence that sprouted from his forming gull fly away.

Maybe he could pass his off as a seagull that went through a tsunami or earthquake. Then again, that felt a little too morbid. Maybe a mutant seagull, left alive to propagate his species after a nuclear apocalypse wiped out the rest, save for him and the perfect specimen sat beside him, a symbol of a simpler time?

No, that was too far-fetched.

Sighing, Jay figured his best way out was to start from scratch. He pushed the majestic reference gull out of the blast radius before slamming his fist down on his failure. The wet clay gave easily under the force, body and head merging into one flat, knuckle-imprinted puddle. Jay knew it wasn’t necessary—and rather messy—to do it this way, but it allowed him some sort of catharsis. That alone made it worth the bit of splash onto his apron and face.

Now, he could start again.

His hands started to shape the clay, eyes focused on the reference as he tried to imitate the product in front of him. He didn’t need the rock, just the bird. That was enough of a change to keep it from being plagiarism, right? Could you plagiarize a clay sculpture?

As he worked, his mind wandered. Initially, it was just about the concept of plagiarism and if copying the reference counted. He was pretty sure he watched a video recently on that. Could one plagiarize an artstyle the same way they plagiarized research? Then it moved to the feeling of the clay. It squished under his hands like mud, but held like a sand castle. He used to build sand castles in his yard, when he was too young to help his parents build their various projects. His mom would give him a water bottle and tell him his job was to make a palace for the nearby ants to live in. Jay took his job very seriously, working fastidiously far after his parents went inside and even when Edna tried to call him in for dinner. He never truly mastered the art, despite various attempts to mimic the grandiose castles he saw in the storybooks his father used to lull him to sleep. His castles always ended up a solid mound. No doors, no windows, and definitely no rooms where the creatures nearby could rest.

Well, that little memory didn’t bode well for this project.

Jay clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus on the task at hand, but still his thoughts swirled about his head like a storm. He was good at so many things, how come castles and seagulls outsmarted him? He was an inventor, for First’s sake! Sure, he fell out of practice recently, but he’d done it his whole life! Surely no one loses skills that fast, right? All his years of practice should amount to something, should translate to making a clay bird? But wires and gears and cogs were so much different than clay. They were rigid, fixed. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle and always worked as intended. They were predictable. Clay wasn’t like that. It morphed not only under the weight of its creator’s hands, but under its own. Sometimes, it held its shape perfectly, strong like a tree in a storm. Other times, as Jay experienced over his time learning to sculpt pots and cups, it drooped or flattened or folded itself over like a cloud rolling over the horizon. Capricious, that’s the word he would use to describe it. Clay was capricious.

Okay, maybe inventing wasn’t his best comparison. He rifled through his skills toolbox again. An art form would serve better as a comparison. Painting? Paints could be difficult too. When he first started learning, driven by the small pieces his father used to make of the night sky, he hated it. The paints always turned to a muddy mess on his canvases, leading him to ruin more than one still-wet attempt by throwing it into the sand. He only got the hang of it after sitting down with his dad one day, both of them looking to capture a gorgeous eagle that landed in their junkyard. It was rare to see them in the Sea of Sands, as they preferred the shores of Ninjago more, but here this one was, perched on a pile of scrap his dad pulled out for a project the day before. At first, Jay didn’t understand why his dad had a sketchbook and pencil out or why he took a picture of the bird. Instead, Jay went straight to trying to capture its glossy feathers and curved beak, only to be vexed when the browns and whites he was using merged into one murky beige. He tried to fix it, but the problem only worsened until, with a yell, he scribbled over the whole thing in black. The commotion frightened the bird away, which only served to heighten Jay’s frustration. Great. Great! The bird was gone. Now he had to remember what it looked like to try and paint it again.

That was when his father picked up his painting, examining the mess he made. He commented on how they would have to repurpose the canvas for something else and Jay felt a hot flush of shame hit his cheeks. He apologized for his outburst, but his dad just patted his head and sat with him. He explained how painting wasn’t just about putting paint on the canvas, but how you needed a sketch to start with so you could have an idea of how to make the picture by hand, how to plan your layers so your colors wouldn’t all mix, and how to control your brush so there were no stray bumps in the smooth lines. Jay still didn’t fully get it, but this time he actually finished the painting. It was rough, looking closer to a pigeon than an eagle, but it was dry and not covered in sand. His dad hung it up in their living room.

Maybe Jay could draw on his painting skills. Paint was finicky, often felt like it had a mind of its own. Surely, there was something within this childhood memory that could help him out now?

Splat.

The noise roused Jay from his thoughts. In his daydreaming, he’d pulled the neck of the gull out too thin and the head—which was just a little bead at the end of the spaghetti string—now drooped on the table.

Dammit.

Jay squished the horror noodle back into the body and checked his watch. The place closed in an hour. He’d made no progress. His deadline wasn’t imminent (Nya’s birthday wasn’t for another few weeks) but it still weighed heavy on his mind. He wanted to get something done today, before Kat asked him to clean up. There was no telling when an attack on Ninjago might drag him away from this, swallowing his time and bringing the date closer and closer until he was forced to rush the project to completion.

Change of plans. He wasn’t good at sculpting, but he wasn’t willing to switch to painting. He was going to make the most of this studio and his work so far. He was good at engineering. He stared at the clay. This gull wasn’t a sculpture, it was a… a machine! Like Zane’s Falcon. Yeah, he could work with that.

First step of the process, separate the parts. Separation was easy, since the limbs of this bird seemed intent on breaking apart. There was the head, the wings, the feet, the torso… he could break those down further! The head had eyes, a beak, feathers on top? Little hairs? Whatever. The point was, he could break it down. He could maybe get somewhere with that.

What next? He had the parts, now he had to figure out how they fit together. The bird needed a base, otherwise its feet would be too small for its body (or alternatively, to support itself its feet would need to be comically large, which must’ve been why the original had a rock base). Then, the torso rested on the feet. The wings then melded to the torso, becoming almost part of it. The head was connected by the neck, which needed to be enough to set it apart from the body, but not too long and skinny that it would fall. That’s where his issue was. The first-forsaken neck. Solve that, he solved the whole thing.

Maybe he was a genius. Maybe he’d finally cracked the code! …Okay, maybe he already knew that was the problem, but breaking it down helped! The storm in his brain calmed and he could focus his attention on the task at hand: fixing this stupid bird before Kat—

“Hey, Jay!”

Are you kidding me?

Kat bounded over, her apron, arms, and even parts of her face stained orangish brown with clay. She grinned from ear to ear as she settled back into her spot across from Jay. “How’s it going?”

“Eh, fine. I’m just trying to figure out how to make the neck work.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “I can’t figure out how to make it look like a neck, y’know? Like… How do birds even function? I know their necks aren’t super complicated, but it’s like I put the head on and it all goes splat!”

“Have you been using an armature?”

“...what?”

Kat burst into giggles. “You’ve not been using an armature this entire time? It’s what helps the clay keep its shape. You’ve been freeballing it?”

“I didn’t know!” Jay protested. This whole time he’d been missing a key part of the body—robotic, flesh, or clay—skeleton! Muscles! That’s why the stupid bird kept self-decapitating! It had no bones! How hadn’t I realized?!

Kat leaned over, examining the bird while Jay’s face cycled through shades of red. “Well, in that case, as an act of freestanding feathered figurine formation, you haven’t done a half bad job.” She held her hand out. “And if you can come back tomorrow, I’ll show you how to make a wire armature. Then, we can get you going on this project, for real this time. Deal?”

“I’ll try to make it.” Jay sighed and held his hand out, still covered in clay. “Deal.”

After a messy handshake, Jay washed, put away his tools, gathered his things, and left. The late afternoon sun hung lazily above the horizon, not ready to dip fully out of sight, leaving the sky a brilliant, cloudless azure. The golden light reflected off the lush zelkova trees that lined the sidewalk outside, turning the leaves chartreuse. Crickets chirped quietly at their feet and in their branches, warming up for their song later in the evening. Other than that, the streets were quiet. Warm rays hit his face and he sighed. In the distance, he could smell something cooking, maybe a barbecue in the residential area a few blocks over? His stomach growled. It really was time for him to head home.

Tomorrow, he’d come back and make an armature. Then, that stupid bird would finally come into form.

All things considered, Jay figured he made good on that coupon. Free figurine lessons! And he didn’t even have to buy a second kit. Plus, something about working, letting his thoughts roam free… Jay wasn’t sure what it was, but he was excited to go back there soon, and there wasn’t much more to say about that.

#never let anyone tell you i wont eventually deliver #it'll take me three months and a crisis but goddammit #i will fucking deliver #fr though i'm so sorry this took so long #hopefully it was worth the wait #ninjago #jay walker #lego ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #basicallyjaywalker150fictravaganza #lila tag

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the-enzyme · 7 months ago

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I modified my 3D artist OG-RE4 Leon S. Kennedy head sculpt. I also repainted him, for the gazillionth time, if that wasn't obvious. I have to say, modifying a tiny eyelid was pretty easy to do with the Vallejo Plastic Putty, the only issue is, it doesn't seem to sand all that well. It started to crumble when I tried to sand it. I let it cure for longer than 4-hours, when is supposed to take only one to two hours, according to Vallejo's own website. I had read mixed reviews about it sanding well, or not. I guess it doesn't? Kind of weird, considering it is meant to be filler for models, and then it goes without saying, meant to be sanded afterward for a perfectly smooth finish...?

Regardless, I feel it works well enough for me, for tiny modding projects. I am definitely going to use it again for my Leon, whom I feel happier about right now, but I still know that he's not accurate enough. He'll never be, because he wasn't sculpted accurately enough, and that's pretty sad. However, the only thing I can do is try to make mine as accurate as I can without having to pay someone else to 3D sculpt another one for me. I could try myself, but I live in the middle of nowhere and I don't want to have an adventure trying to figure out how to create a 3D sculp/mesh/file to then have it 3D printed somewhere. I haven't (3D) modeled anything in more than a decade. I feel like my old dusty 3D Max and Maya, are probably not it, for 3D printing and that's all I know. Since those were the programs, we were allowed to use in college, back in the dark ages. When I learned how to 3D model. I believe blender is the popular choice for 3D printing nowadays, but that wasn't allowed so I didn't even bother trying it. Of course, I am not going to be 3D modeling a head at this stage. I much rather mod this boulder of a 1:6 head sculpt. It's a huge head for what it is, and not accurate, but it's all I got! DX

I am happy that I found something that is less wasteful than a tiny .25 oz container of Aves Apoxie, and less expensive as well. I am probably going to try modding my Myou Bettina next, since I wanted to give him smaller eyes, but still don't want to waste money on Aves' clay, when I know I won't get even halfway through the tiny container. Now, I can actually try, without fear of wasting clay, money and possibly sanity. Modifying (relatively) tiny heads is a huge pain in the gut, but I still want my Leon to be more accurate, but not enough to pay anyone again for another failed likeness. I also want my Bettina to have much smaller eyes. He looks too baby faced for my taste. I do love my Leon so far, I feel he makes a gorgeous looking figure. However, I want my OG-RE4 Leon to be accurate and this is not it. I sanded his upper lid a lot, the 3D sculptor gave him te droopiest lids ever, I also sanded his jaw quite a bit -- Leon has a very roundish head. Not sure what the artist was thinking. I added an actual upper eyelid with the Vallejo putty, because the 3D-sculptor didn't give him any. Certainly not even close of an eye-shape as Leons, but I feel like I'm doing good progress. I wanted to see what the putty was like, before doing heavier eye mods. Now I kind of know, so I am comfortable moving on. I will try first on m Bettina, however, because that is an even larger head, with huger eyes to try plenty of times, without worrying too much about heavy damage (I hope!).

The 1st image and the last two were taken with my older than dust cellphone. I like the way those look, the "newer" phone adds a lot of noise/grain, for absolutely no reason, and also the colors are kind of gross, but they are all samsung phones, so I have no clue why the "newer" ones suck so badly -- I suck at taking photos as well, but I need all the help I can get. The "newer" phone, doesn't do me any favors. Sadly.

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one-dumb-fucker · 6 months ago

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Guy Gardner/Green lantern x Kyle Rayner/Green lantern. Guykyle. Guy/Kyle.

*Kyle's hands are tied to the headboard*

Hands between his waist and hips, as he held tight right on that good spot aka his body.

[Plow him- plow him] he thought, recked and ruined even though he was the one on top/supposed to be recking him.

He huffed and puffed, driving hard into the man beneath him. The more he looked apon the beautiful man, the more he realized he was ruining him.

Panting, eyes wide and pupils blown to no end; he trembled and twitched as his body was sent full of Guy; Sweat glistening his beautiful body- fucking sculpted from clay, most precious heart in the solar system.

"Y-you're staring" Kyle attempted to tease, stammering out as he was endlessly fucked. That is when Guy realized he was ogling him; staring with heart eyes, wonder and amazement.... and love.

God- he loves him so much

"I can tell~" Kyle replied, most certainly all hot and bothered; wincing and over filled with pleasure as Guy hit his prostate. The ol' really fuckin good spot.

He didn't mean to say that out loud, but that wouldn't stop him now. He dived down into Kyle's neck and kissed like crazy, spouting his love between each one; hardly getting out "love u" before and after each.

Kyle yelped loud, overrun with love shoved into him. For love he was like a sponge, and Guy's was a pressure washer pointed right at his soul on full blast. He was ruined, inside and out. His hole used and loved beyond repear, his heart pounding as it transmitted and received feelings faster than it had before.

Guy smashed his face into Kyle's, lips on his as he searched for his soul despite it already pooling out of his body and seeping from his pores. They moaned and groaned into each other's mouth, and Kyle knew damn well could have swarn he felt a whimper rumble through his mouth and past his lips but not from it.

Hands bound, Kyle couldn't hold and touch Guy as he wanted, so he did more than excellent with his lips; hips, and everything else he could move to touch Guy. Guy always shivered when Kyle's dick pressed against his stomach, and now he felt the electricity continuously run through him as Kyle masterfully worked his dick, rubbed and fucked against Guy while not moving too much to disrupt what Guy did to his insides; which Guy loved so fucking much.

As he fucked into Kyle he fucked his stomach against Kyle's dick, working his part in the dance expertly and failing apart exactly as intended.

He fucked quick and desperate, like a dog. He came aggressively, trembling as all the feelings rocked through him and the hot lava suddenly felt so much hotter. He felt as every molecule became an illegal street racer and blast off faster than if the cops were hot on their tail. He felt as his load spurred and blasted like a high power pressure washer into Kyle and he nearly passed out as every feeling in his body changed so fast; so overrun with such strong, potent feelings.

When his eyes opened again the lights were brighter than before and as Kyle pant and tremble beneath him, he felt the hot white that was Kyle's orgazim painting his chest; daring to drip onto Kyle's body. Guy leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the breathless man's fourhead -also out of breath himself- then he released Kyle from his bonds.

His arms immediately shot to wrap around Guy, hugging and holding him tight and close. Both pant and as their heads were buried in the crooks of each other neck: they'd have it no other way.

The warmth -literal and emotional- shared between them turned the room into an oven of love. Both basked and let 'em cook as all they wanted to do was sit here and feel the burn of their love swirling through the bed, the building and the very air in this room like ribbons composed of glitter and the smoke at the very tip of the fire in a fire place that has that pa-ting shine on it, almost a spark itself.

There were many sparks between them, making the room look as though it were filled with ten million fireflies.

Guy still buried deep in Kyle, just as they liked, spread wide as his heart was spread further in receiving all that love. Guy's heart beat fast from the activities and as he held Kyle here in his arms, in this moment. He felt like a high-schooler with a severe crush everytime he was this close to Kyle; his lover, and now was no exception.

It beat and beat and Kyle felt it pang against his chest, his own heart matching on the opposite side. Their hearts synced and their breathing calmed. They kissed each other again; slow and soft. Lips on lips and tits on tits- I mean heart on heart, as their movement speaks heart to heart.

They kissed and then you finally stopped snooping and let them have a cuddly cuddle session in peace.

May. 15. 2024.

#guykyle #guy gardner #kyle rayner #one shot #fanfic #my fanfic #my fic #my fiction #dc #green lantern #don't mind the date thats just for me

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 1 year ago

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I thrist for Bard, and I thirst for your requests to get to 200! May I please request angsty pining with a little fluff?

I think it’d be so cute to have reader pine for him, reader is in their early 20s and since he’s like late 30s/early 40s. Maybe they confess or kiss and him just being like “damn I still got it” but also feeling like they really should move on and find someone else who’s also young to enjoy all of life’s adventures with? Does that make sense ? 😂 please do with this what you can. Sculpt my thought-clay into literary art. Thank you ☺️

aaaaaaaaa my heart, thank u for letting me make this food! XD

You know you can always find BARD outside at night. Just before bed, he never fails to have one last cigarette, standing out in the dark by the manor’s front steps.

Sometimes you’re tempted to ask him if you could have one, simply to see how he might react. It already seems that he thinks being around him is enough to influence you into things that he thinks are too mature for you; what would he do if he thought seeing him smoke would make you want to try it?

You don’t think you really want to do that, though. As funny as it would be, he stresses about enough as it is. So instead you venture out only to stand next to him.

“Lovely night, huh?” You lean your head back, pretending to get a look at the stars. (… Well. They are rather impressive.)

He glances over, appearing to not be too startled that you’re here. It’s a lot of life and a lot of things he’s been through, so it makes sense that he doesn’t really scared easily. His guard is always a little bit up, you think. “Oh, (Name). Yeah… I guess it is.” He takes another puff off his cigarette, then drops it to the top step so he can grind it under his shoe and make sure it’s put out. “Been a long day, so, nice t’ have the stars t’ count on. They’ll come an’ shine out no matter how tired they are.”

The last curls of smoke that come out as he speaks might as well be the same stars he’s talking about, from the way you watch it dance and disappear. “The same could be said of us, I think. We always wake up and get to work, even if we’re tired.”

“S’pose that ain’t far off.” He glances over at you curiously, raising an eyebrow. “You come out here t’ look at ‘em? Never noticed you doin’ that before.”

Ah. He’s found you out. That’s the downside to having feelings for someone who’s a good bit older than you ― he probably knows you have ulterior motives than just wanting to come stargaze.

You keep your eyes on the sky for a moment before turning your gaze toward him. “No, I don’t usually. Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

He tilts his head. “’Bout what?”

… Surely he can’t be this clueless, can he? He’s not a stupid man. He has to have made note of the way you interact with him compared to the way you interact with the rest of the household. The way you sometimes poke over his shoulder to ask what he’s cooking, or let your hand linger a bit when you take the tea from him to set on the tray, or, God, the way you smile at him in great contrast to the way you smile at anyone else.

He’s observant with the reason you were outside. Why not with the fact that you feel for him?

“Do you… have anyone in your life? I mean… someone you’d like to make time with, you know?” Please. Please don’t make me have to spell it out for him.

He levels himself away from the wall with a chuckle. “Eh, not anymore. If you need some advice with someone, I can give it a shot, but…”

Fuck. No. No, there’s no way he can be this dense, is there? You’ve nearly slapped him in the face with it.

You push yourself away from the wall as well, and set a hand on his chest to keep him from going anywhere. “I’m not entirely sure that I need advice. What I need is for you to understand that you’re the one I’d like to make time with. We’re inside together in the manor all day, I know, but… I mean… I mean just us. If you don’t have anyone else…”

“… Oh. Oh.” His hand comes down to circle your wrist. He’s quite gentle with you, and he doesn’t seem sure whether he wants to move your hand away or just hold it. The way he stares down at you, for what feels like a long time, is so intense. It’s like he can’t believe what you’ve just said.

At last, he finds his words. “Ain’t I… you know… a little too old for you? I… I mean, it’s flatterin’ and all, but I… must be at least fifteen years older’n you. Don’t you want someone more round your age? Someone who can keep up with you?”

You frown, and keep your hand where it is. In fact, you take a step closer. “No. I want you. And I don’t know… I think you could keep up with me just fine.”

“You think, huh?” He bites his lip, letting his hand move from your wrist up closer to your fingers. “C’mon. You don’t really want me, do you? I’m old as dirt.”

“Oh, you are not,” you huff. “Why don’t we just see how you react if we kiss? If you don’t feel anything, then fine, you’re too old for me. But if you feel something…” You move your hand back so that you can twine your fingers with his. “Couldn’t we try, then?”

So the two of you lean in, and regardless of what else happens, all you can do is pray that he feels something.

#tehgreatboo #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Bard #Bardroy #reader insert #romantic #fluff #angst #drama #UGH CUTE INDEED! <3 #one hell of a queue

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hannahhook7744 · 2 years ago

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Edie Olympian info;

Her full name is Edith Myrtle Olympian of the Isle.

Only her friends can call her by her nickname. It annoys her otherwise.

Her nickname is pronounced 'Ee-d-ee' not 'Eddie'.

She is Eris' daughter.

She is 20 by the time the events of the Pocketwatch/Rise of Red occur.

She, like Hadie and the others, has taken to following the Badun Detective Agency around ever since the barrier was brought down.

She is one of Hadie's minions and is very protective of her younger cousin (?).

She also gets along surprisingly well with Herkie, Elle, Arabella, and their other cousins. Even Mal.

She has been said to have a patience of a Saint.

Edith's favorite colors are various shades of purple, blue, and pink.

Edith gets along quite well with her mother despite the many differences between them.

She has inherited her mother's powers.

She is also failing nearly every dumb class Auradon has.

Edith does her best to avoid Red's mother and her hair salon at all costs because the Queen of Hearts frankly scares her. Not that she'd ever willingly tell Red that (she doesn't want to hurt her feelings).

When she needs money, she'll occasionally pick up a shift at Ursula's fish and Chips of Hades' restaurant.

She's not very religious.

She's not very fond of most of the gods and goddesses for how they treated her mother.

She's single but that doesn't really bother her because she's not interested in romance all that much.

She, like Deja, has an unsettling fascination with death and the occult. She also loves horror movies a little too much.

Edith has at least 13 older siblings. Since her mom is a goddess it is hard to know for sure.

She is apart of the Sea Ponies club, the debate club, & the Scammers and Pickpockets club.

While she has the patience of a saint, she can be very petty when that patience has been worn thin.

When someone upsets her greatly, she will switch to Greek and refuse to switch back. Which in Auradon can be very annoying since not a lot of people there are multilingual.

She has natural blood red eyes and blonde hair.

She had a much better childhood than most of the kids on the isle, despite her father leaving when she was young.

She literally does not have a dad.

Out of both her friend groups, she is the closest to Hadie and Deja.

She loves singing, dancing, acting, pulling pranks, clay sculpting, chariot racing, foot racing, pentathlon, pankration, bulding catapults, and hoplitodromos.

Her weapon of choice is halbered. She also knows how to wield the following weapons: the Kopis, Dory, Sarissa, Ballista, and spear.

She also quite enjoys 'chaotic' musical instruments, even if other folks don't.

She is unapologetically herself and doesn't care what anyone else has to say about it.

Bonus:

Shan Deja, Hadie Olympian, Edie Olympian, Glauco White, Maddox Hatter, Chloe Charming, Red Hearts, and Danny Darling.

#descendants #disney descendants #melissa de la cruz #the pocketwatch #rise of red #descendants oc #disney descendants oc #disney descendants alternate universe #descendants alternate universe

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bluebluebluewoods · 7 months ago

Text

@yaminobean

Ofc!! I would love to share this silly lil au!!

As is the nature of such things, it actually started out as background plot contrivance to explain why Papa would be out of town in a human fantasy type au causing Brainy (his former student, and curse breaker+healer by trade) to be the Royal Mage in his stead while Papa investigates the Cursed Dolls attacking a tiny village.

The general bg setting for this au is that everyone is humans, it’s Vague RoFan magic kingdom setting where Willow is the queen (and a talented magic user in her own right), and for (handwave) reasons Smurfs and humans thousands of years ago crossed species and now all da Smurfs and everyone else reincarnated into humans. Because of the fae ancestry of the kingdom, pretty much everyone goes by a public name (a plant/nature or a witch-given name like classic village smurf names) as well as a more personal name (like gargamel!!!) only told to family and lovers, and middle name told to no one bc True Names Dangerous for magic. Living dolls only have that public name bc they don’t have souls to ensnare with the true name magic.

Anyway, onto the actual Juice of what’s happening with Sassette and Scruple

Gargamel (known publicly as Carver bc of his carving and sculpting skills with tiny clay things and cages I’m Running With It for this au) is a sickly doll maker living in a rundown shack on the outskirts of a tiny village near the wild edge of the kingdom. He lives alone with his old familiar Azreal, and his orphaned nephew/apprentice, Scruple (stringer for this aus sake, but him n gargamel know each others private names and so will sassette/papa/rest of dolls).

He hasn’t been in the best of health for years, grudges against the world boiling within him, against the lover that left when he began experimenting with bringing life to his dolls (Papa) and took his desired place as royal mage, the three dolls that refused to do his bidding and take over the kingdom, the family that had more loved for each other than ever for him, the kingdom that never had a place for him.

The only things in his life still with him as his health went downhill were the young nephew he was never able to truly have a good life with, his beloathed and beloved familiar despite all the shedding on his black robes, and of course- his work. Towards the end he tried to make one last doll, one to take care of young scruple when he passed, a caretaker made to be a few years older and wiser that could be a true companion for him.

Unfortunately, dying grudges don’t need to be consciously set to sink into clay as it’s worked, and the almost finished doll with the same red hair, the same dark freckles and pale skin and green eyes that Scruple found his uncle’s body laying over was cursed even before Gargamel took the last breath.

When he died, the magic keeping his familiar alive died with him. His living dolls out in the world felt a twinge of something- but Smurf (private name Ettie, smurf being an ancient word for magic Just Run With It) was busy as a barmaid with her peaceful life, Vexy and Hackus with Trying and Failing to be roaming bandits. That twinge, that snap of strings above their head- it wasn’t something for the twins to care about, and Smurf mentioned it idly to Papa and thought no more of it. Perhaps she had just walked through a spiders web! Her senses even now could be a little dull, that’s probably it.

With Gargamel and Azreal dead, Scruple was… alone. What was he to do? Too young to set out on his own, despite his threats of such while his uncle was alive. Too young to know how to reach out for help to an already struggling village, half abandoned as all those with prospects had already left to better places. Too young to try to dig that hole by himself, hands blistering on the shovel, too young to try and sort through the papers gargamel left behind… notes on a project. A doll, one meant to be Sassy, someone to look after things… even in his notes, Gargamel couldn’t make his care clear.

Scruple knew how the living dolls worked, had read his uncle’s work on them, knew how loathed but powerful they could be, affronts to the living nature of things but.

He was so young. And the hole was still so shallow, and his hands hurt, and all the doll needed was stringing before he could dunk it into the potion…

Sassy came to life at sixteen, a thirteen year old with scratched and bloody hands sleeping on a bed meant for a larger man, and she hated this world.

She did not hate her little brother though. How could she? Just as Gargamel unconsciously poured his hate into her, he also poured beaten down and buried love, love which Sassy didn’t know to hide.

She buried the creator she unconsciously hated for leaving his work undone, the cat who followed his master, and wrapped her brother in arms warm with magic like they’d just come from the kiln.

In the days to follow, she would raid the village. In the days to follow, she would take any scraps useful back to Scruple, convince him to eat, to keep going. The two of them just bitter children, she’d help him with clumsy hands to sculpt more dolls, Pat his back and laugh it off when none of them had the same living spirit she did- even if they weren’t alive, they could still follow his orders! That’s good enough, right!

In the days to follow, Papa would follow the trails of an old lover, find out about a tiny village where hope went to die, where the only moving bodies now were shambling cracked clay and a young pair with red hair and green eyes. Sassy would look at him, and find an odd mix of loathing and relief, something in her knowing right away that this man could take care of her brother. He would break the grudge cursing her, would take the two back after destroying the cursed dolls rampaging, he would care for them…

But for now Scruple dreams, and watches, and his hands sting with string linked to a hundred faulty dolls, while the last wishes of a bitter man combs through his hair and tells him she’ll look after him.

—

Bonus related art:

This au was totally meant to be a funny rofan roommates thing where Brainy and Hefty are unwed men living in a dorm in the castle and oh noooo they’re sharing a room kyaaa

Smurfette’s rough design! She has doll limbs in this au, so covers up. Gargamel designed her based on Papa in this au too, so she’s still fat lil black sheila. Tbf, more of her friends and loved ones already know she’s actually a living doll, including the Queen??!? But. Like. She’s so lovely.. she ain’t evil, they’ll let this one affront to nature go. …and her siblings, bc vexy and hackus while terrible bandits are actually great at keeping their area of the woods free of actual bandits? This is Their Turf. Fuck you!!!

And of course, this piece of scruple going crazy go stupid do violence

#warning for character death and kids having an unpleasant time #not like. active abuse or anything. they’re just Alone and it Sucks

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nemeseos-noctua · 4 years ago

Note

Here's the other: How'd they react to their S/O who cherishes their gift given by their beloved so much, that one day the gift was destroyed by a hilichurl and they went so livid they practically fought the creatures to death and threw them to a lake somewhere, and sulked the whole how they don't deserve them anymore cuz of how careless they were. For Razor, Albedo and Xiao 👉👈

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: razor, albedo, xiao (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: not proofread, mc is referenced as an alchemist/adventurer in albedo’s, one swear word in xiao’s

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: im EMBARRASSED at how long this is and how MEANINGLESS THE WRITING IS IM SO SORRY

he made you a paw-shaped clay sculpture!

it was cute and small, fitting right into the palm of your hands

to others—it may look like some worn-down toy, but to you, it was a good luck charm from the ever-cute razor

but perhaps, it wasn’t quite the clay-shape that you held close to your heart... no, it was the strenuous effort razor put into sculpting the paw

you remember it vividly. how the boy would dig his hands into mud and sit under the burning sun, carving the dirt with his bare fingers as he hid the gift from your sight

so when a good-for-nothing hilichurl decides razor’s paw-shape charm was a nice pebble for hot potato... boy were you livid

Patting the ground beside you, [e/c] eyes widened upon the feeling of nothing but grass.

What...? Peering over, you stared blankly at the empty space, comical arrows pointing at the now-gone charm you had received from Razor. Just where was it? You swore it was right beside you...

And as if Barbatos were laughing at you, the wind blew, burning your eyes as the sight of mitachurls and hilichurls danced around the fire in the distance, tossing what looked like a rock into the air.

Ah.

You blinked.

That was the charm Razor made.

first of all... how did the hilichurl get it? the charm was literally right beside you!

agh, whatever.

you’ll just retrieve it. easy, right?

no.

first of all, your power would literally turn the lush grass into a desolate canyon (not really). second of all, you’d probably end up destroying the paw in your rampage

hah...

—if the hilichurl didn’t destroy it first

Materializing your weapon, you couldn’t help but hope that the paw had miraculously survived the impact of a hilichurl throwing it against the floor.

Hah, what were you thinking? Of course it didn’t... physics just didn’t allow it.

But you know what physics did allow? Why, beating these enemies to a pulp, of course!

once you floored the hilichurls, you quickly scrambled as to look for signs of the paw anywhere

berating yourself as to how utterly foolish you were for letting it go and leaving it unguarded in the first place, you stared in defeat at the sight of crumbled clay and hardened dirt in the grass of the hilichurl camp

why? why were you so careless? seriously, how did this happen? if you had just kept it in your backpack like a regular person, razor’s hard-earned hours and craft would still be as grand as ever-

“[y/n]?”

Blinking, you hadn’t realized you had been sulking in the midst of this hilichurl camp. [E/C] eyes lifted up, widening once they had landed on none other than Razor, his crimson eyes like the agates that littered Dragonspine, his hair as grey as stormclouds.

“Ah... Razor...” You smiled in exasperation, staring at anywhere but said boy. How could you face him after watching his clay paw get destroyed by some measly hilichurls?

“Are you okay?” He asked, glancing around at the scene before him. The grass wilted, the camp that he remembered being obnoxiously loud and disturbing was silent and empty.

“Yeah, no biggie,” Waving off his concern, you began to walk away, your heart sinking with each step.

First, you let his gift get destroyed. Second, you walk away from him.

You were such a terrible partn—

“[Y/N]?” Razor’s voice cut through the air, a tension you had created solely on the thoughts of your own mind. Gripping your wrist with a tender touch, you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes drooped down ever so slightly.

“Did I... make lupical mad?”

Gulping, you quickly waved your hands in front of your face, eyes widened as you tried to carefully explain the series of events that had just led down to this very moment.

“I—well, you see, your uh, paw-clay-thingy... I was careless and I—“

“Break it while hunting?” Razor answered, tilting his head as his hold merely stayed still, not wavering for a second, as if you were a boar in his hands.

“Ah...”

Razor was much better at observation than you had thought.

“It’s okay. I make more for lupical,” Razor nodded, already beginning to pace over to a pond as he dipped his gloved hands into the water, wafting around for dirt as you rushed up behind him.

“Wait! But I was careless... you don’t need to make ano—“

“It’s for lupical. Lupical close, I give lupical gift that never break.”

Everlasting—that was what he wanted to make.

And a part of you couldn’t help but agree.

albedo, in all of his alchemy prowess, made you an artificial flower

how? don’t ask him. he’ll spew some lengthy thesis and paragraph about the fundamentals, the research, the prototype, the testing, the—

ahem, anyways!

you had never intended to bring it outside. but one day, you had left your camp under the supervision of barbatos (wow go barbatos) and ventured off to fetch some materials

and when you came back? you were met with the sight of hilichurls and slimes raving around your tent

what the—

“I...I’m hallucinating,” You deadpanned, slapping your wrist at the sight of pyro slimes and masked hilichurls dancing around your tent, the inside of your humble abode moving around as if it were possessed.

And the cherry on top? A pyro abyss mage emerged, the flower floating besides it. But oh boy, it was no flower anymore... it was a flaming flower.

At that moment, you were left to ponder. Maybe, just maybe, you kinned a whopperflower at that point. Because oh boy did your temper and sanity explode on those little enemies, the way your blade sunk into their forms—

you were already planning your apology to albedo. he trusted you and loved you enough to make an artificial flower for you... and yet, it so pitifully crumbled at your touch

okay, not quite your touch. but it crumbled at the ugly pyro abyss mage’s touch

so, as any good s/o would do, you sulked while rebuilding your camp. it’s okay. as long as albedo didn’t know his creation was charred, all would be well. besides! he was quite a busy man! chances were low that he’d discover!

busy, he was, observant, he is

perhaps, you should’ve known

“Ah... hi Albedo,” You winced, opening your tent to smile at the alchemist who merely stared at you.

“You were gone for a while. Is everything okay?” He noted, remembering your absence from visiting his own camp at Dragonspine. As an alchemist, he knew what it was like being holed up in a camp. But for two weeks? Even he needed breaks.

“Well, you see... I was out... gathering materials! Yes!” You gave him a weak thumbs-up, wailing internally once his piercing azure eyes trailed around your camp, noting that nothing looked new.

“You don’t need to lie to me, [Y/N]. Is something the matter?”

“I’m sorry!” You cut off, clapping your hands together in a prayer-like position, guilt welling up in the pit of your stomach.

“...Why?”

“Your flower—I left it unsupervised and it was set aflame and I’m so so so sor—“

“Don’t be.”

Mouth dropping, you stared up at the male, an amused expression painting his face like the canvases he dedicated to you.

“At least you were not hurt while it was set aflame. Come, I’ll show you how to make some more,” Opening your tent for you all the way, Albedo held a hand out to you, eyes flickering in mirth.

“And next time, don’t try to run away from your problems.”

“You cheeky littl—“ A blush of both embarrassment and fluster formed on your face, shocked at his sudden remark.

he made you an adepti amulet

enhanced with super-cool-adepti-no-mortal-can-have power, xiao had informed you that all you needed to do was hold up the amulet and it’d scare any kind of enemies away!

cool, right? too bad you left it unattended while fighting the irritable anemo cube! now it’s at the bottom of the sea <3

how did this happen, exactly? well... you see... when wind picks up and becomes strong... light-weight objects will fly up into the air!

and sometimes, those light weight objects will fall into the sea, and sometimes, those objects would be gifts from your adeptus boyfriend who was waiting for you back at wangshu inn—

ahem. anyways. you beat the crap out of the anemo cube (aka, beth. aka, tornado cube. aka, cube waifu)

I should just... not go back to Wangshu Inn today. Haha... I’ll go ask Katheryne for a commission... You nodded, stuffing the turquoise shards of wind into your pockets, your bags filled with mora and enhancement ores being thrown off the side of the cliff.

—Along with the adepti amulet Xiao had made for you.

Seriously... you still had to wonder just how that happened! One second, you were avoiding getting sucked up by the vent of the anemo cube... and the next, your bag was traveling the world!

Can’t have shit in Teyva—

Trekking back to Mondstadt in defeat, you were innocently oblivious to the worry of the Yaksha back in Liyue.

are they okay? do they need help? did they go to dragonspine? all these questions spun around xiao’s head as he watched the moon rise, his mask dissipating into the wind

you told him you’d return tonight... yet you hadn’t. and a part of him had wished you hadn’t left liyue, so he had at least some control over whatever dangers dared to attack you

but, he knew you were strong. why else would he love you, anyway? he does not find appeal in being the savior 24/7

so, he waits. atop the balcony of wangshu inn, across the stars and moon, he prays to his archon, wishing—no, hoping you arrive safely

And—you did. You arrived back at Wangshu Inn.

... Three weeks later.

“You’re late. Very late,” Xiao’s voice blared in your ears, a blessing and a curse all at the same time. You didn’t know how to tell him the amulet was thrown off a cliff—but at the same time, you really wanted to run your fingers through his hair.

“Haha... sorry about that,” You laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of your head as Xiao merely grumbled, appearing before you with a piercing stare.

“Where were you? You did not even send me a letter.”

“I’m sorry... it’s just... eh... well...” You looked away, your heart churning against your ribs as Xiao extended his index finger out, tilting your chin to face him.

“What?” He asked, his tone harsh yet soft, longing yet logical.

“I uh... kind of... lost your adepti amulet... I’m sorry.”

He blinked.

“You waited three weeks to tell me that?” He asked in disbelief, almost in disappointment. Seriously, he was an adeptus! A Yaksha, at that! He could’ve just made another one for you... But nooo... you decided to wait three weeks in the land of the free (America?) and then worry him to death.

“Mortals...” Xiao muttered under his breath, crossing his arms with a huff as he turned his head away, the wind picking up.

“Hey, wait! Aren’t you going to say anything? Like a disappointed lecture or something?”

“No.”

Disappearing, you facepalmed, already pulling out some sweetflowers and milk to whip up some almond tofu.

Damn that adeptus. Who was he to tug your heartstrings like that?

You sighed, sitting beside a cooking pot as lingering yellow eyes watched your form, their irises softening at the sight.

— constellations! 💫

#genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #albedo x reader #razor x reader #genshin albedo #genshin razor #constellarations

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somethingpoetichere · 4 years ago

Text

lovebug- caliban imagine

sup. fic inspired by my favorite song in THE world. not as soft mushy as it may sound I promise caliban is a nice lil sarcastic SHIT with a big ole crush. mild sabrina bashing but its funny in context and I think it’s the way family behaves. reader is a Spellman, not a witch but DOES know about the supernatural/is part of the supernatural world. here with my once in a blue moon post lol. feedback would be appreciated!

called her for the first time yesterday

finally found the missing part of me

felt so close but you were far away

left me without anything to say

Caliban was not an idiot- he knew not to underestimate the Spellman half-witch that had gone and declared herself queen of hell. So he’d taken the liberty of learning everything he could about her, noting her habits and schedule and the people she surrounded herself with.

And then he found you.

You weren’t a witch- at least, he hadn’t found your name in his diligent searching through the Book of the Beast- but you were something. That he was sure of. There was something slightly off about your presence, tinged a little glittery, though not altogether unpleasant.

No, not unpleasant at all, he mused as he watched you make your way towards your car. Tucked into a little yellow sundress, you stood out like a ray of sunshine in the wave of doom-and-gloom that hallmarked high school. The school bell rang out behind you, and Caliban felt his knees go disgustingly weak as you smiled brilliantly at Sabrina through the crowd.

It was a stupid, stupid decision that Caliban would never have made in the right state of mind, but he reasoned that pissing off Sabrina was validation enough to get your attention. He ducked into your path on purpose, taking advantage of your momentary distraction as he gently bumped into you. oops.

You collided with a solid wall, books tumbling out of your hands as strong arms reached out to steady you. You let out a surprised yelp at the collision, peeking up curiously as the wall you’d hit laughed.

Oh, well that was a sight for sore eyes.

The golden haired stranger holding you was, well, gorgeous. Bright blue eyes peered down at you as he grinned, and you felt the whole world shutter around you. You’d definitely been watching too many soap operas with your auntie, but goddamn it if you weren't positively putty.

“Hi there, stranger.” You giggled nervously, and Caliban suddenly remembered he’d had his arms around you for far too long to be acceptable. He reluctantly retreated, feeling something claw a little uncomfortably in his chest.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He apologized, moving to pick up your books as you bent down to retrieve them. He ran a hand through his hair in barely concealed bashfulness, unsure of why he felt so... unsettled, all of a sudden.

“It’s alright, my head was in the clouds.” You waved off his apology, accepting the books he offered you with a grateful smile. “Are you new here? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“He’s new here!” Sabrina’s shrill voice interrupted, training her icy glare on Caliban, who fought back a smirk. “This is Caliban- he’s from... Australia! Yeah, down under!”

“Oh, I can show you around tomorrow! I know how scary it can be to be new here.” You patted his arm sympathetically, ignoring Sabrina’s stream of indignant protests. “I was with student council all day. If you’re a senior, we probably have most of the same classes.”

Caliban had shit to do. Caliban had trials to plan and souls to torture. But you were looking at him- all warmth and sunshine, and Sabrina’s look of pure horror only sweetened the deal.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow then, sunshine.”

so worth it.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban didn't understand why the mortals all bemoaned high school as hell on earth. It certainly wasn't so bad once you got past the wave of body spray and the questionable cafeteria food. In fact, darting to class with a pretty girl beside him was pretty enjoyable, all things considered.

You’d spent the day introducing him to the other students, passing him silly notes in class, and had even tugged him from the lunch room to hang out with your friends in the library. He learned that you pretty much did it all- student council, cheerleader, top of your class- all while managing to somehow know the name of everyone you passed with a smile in the halls. You were silly and sweet— smart as all hell with a wit that certainly kept the clay prince on his toes.

and he was smitten.

The groan that escaped your painted lips was delightfully sinful as you slumped in the seat beside him in english class. “I hate Romeo and Juliet. How do two people fall in love in a few days anyhow? And Mrs. Willows always makes us reenact the scenes, and it’s so corny.” The blush that colored your cheeks as he looked at you in concern was something he did his best to commit to memory- cheesiness be damned, Caliban was enjoying himself far too much.

Caliban smirked, skimming through the booklet he’d been passed as the teacher droned. The prince of hell had a certain flare for the dramatics, and Sabrina’s glare burning into the back of his head only fueled his antics. He had one scene in mind, and it was the scene that was certain to kill four birds with one stone- totally make you fall in love with him, he would somehow manage to kiss you (that part was a work in progress), piss off Sabrina, and also- piss off Sabrina.

And kiss you. So maybe five parts. Damn it, Caliban was going to have to make a list.

“Partners?” He whispered softly, gently tugging at your hand as the teacher sat back down. Caliban’s eyes were alight with a tinge of mischief that you either failed to notice or were simply amused by- and your answering nod was more than a little bashful. “We can do my favorite scene.”

“If you say the first kiss scene, I’m punching the daylights out of you.” You warned, playfully nudging his knee with your own. “It will be unkind and I will not feel bad.”

“My lady wounds me.” He dramatically rested his hand above his heart. “And we absolutely have to do this scene-” He raised his hand to silence your half-hearted protests- “because Billy told the guys in calculus that he was specifically going to be pissed if we did this scene.”

Okay, so maybe he’d stretched the truth a little bit. But Caliban knew that the mention of your seedy ex-boyfriend (who you’d enlightened him about during lunch) would absolutely get you to agree to the scene. And it wasn't like he’d lied— Billy Marlin’s glare was nearly as icy as Sabrina’s. And, it wasn't like the way Billy looked at you- with something akin to possession in his eyes- totally made Caliban want to fast track the kid to damnation right then and there. Nope.

“We can meet up later today to practice? I have cheerleading practice after school, but I’m free after that!” You grinned at him, and he felt the tension ease out of his shoulders as you rested your hand on his arm. The gesture was so effortless- but to Caliban, who’d never really experienced connection like this- you reduced him to all but clay again.

“I can drive you home after practice?” Caliban offered, enjoying the yelp that Sabrina let out from the back of the classroom. He shouldered your bag as the bell sounded, noting the way your eyes softened even further at the gesture. “We don't really have cheerleaders down under, you know.”

“You’re welcome to stay and watch.” You shrugged, ignoring the way your heart thudded erratically as he walked you to the locker room. “It won’t be too long today, and Sabrina has a date with Nick after, anyways.”

it was really just too easy.

i can't get your smile out of my mind

i think about your eyes all the time

you're beautiful but you don't even try

(you don't even, don't even try)

modesty is just so hard to find

Caliban wasn’t sure if he regretted his earlier offer. Sure, the sight of you tucked into the tight cheerleading uniform (did they make them that short on purpose?) was pretty much the pinnacle of male fantasy, and the smiles and winks you’d thrown his way whenever he caught your eye during your routines were something else altogether.

But getting the sight out of his brain as you rambled aimlessly in the car about today’s chapters of Dante’s Inferno, while he simultaneously tried to focus on the road and definitely not the way your skirt hitched on the leather seat...

Yeah, Caliban was pretty sure he was in love.

You weren’t too far off, in all honesty. Caliban’s large hands had a firm grip on the steering wheel, and you took the time to admire further up his toned arms as he drove. His hair fell in loose, windswept waves, and his side profile looked like it was sculpted by the freaking gods. Every so often he would glance your way, his perfect lips parting to reveal his perfect teeth and perfect smile and gods-

Yeah, you had the lovebug bad.

“So how did you meet Sabrina?” You questioned innocently enough, and Caliban had to restrain the urge to spill all of the hell-related gossip to you. How Sabrina had managed to keep all of her throne-seeking from you was beyond him, but it certainly added a thrill to his pursuit of you.

“I had some administrative issues the other day and ran into her. She doesn’t like me too much, I’ve gathered.” Caliban was careful not to lie- his entanglement with you had the added perk of pissing off your dearest cousin, but it was genuine on Caliban’s end. He found he didn’t really want to lie about things.

“Sabrina is... touchy.” You offered carefully, shifting in your seat as you pointed out directions to your home. “I don’t really understand why she doesn't like you, to be honest. I was actually going to have a word with her about being nice- you’ve been so sweet, and I was the new kid too a few years back. It's hard to find your place in the established dynamic of a small town.”

Caliban doubted you’d had too much of an issue, with the way the halls seemed to light up around you, but the accompanying smile you gave him was bright enough to soothe his imagined woes. “It’s alright, I reckon she’ll get used to having me around.”

“Used to you?” You mused with a giggle, leaning on the console in a gesture that brought your face much, much closer to his own. He was overwhelmed with your floral scent- something soft and summery and altogether you.

“I plan on being around you a lot, sunshine. If you don’t mind.” He grinned, turning to face you momentarily at the stop sign. Your eyes were wide with hardly concealed surprise at his words, and he watched the realization of the close proximity of his face flicker through them.

It happened so fast that Caliban was almost certain he imagined it- but your eyes had definitely glanced at his lips. The blush that tinged your cheeks as you pulled back confirmed it, and in a moment of calculated risk, Caliban moved to rest his hand on your exposed thigh.

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

If Caliban squinted, he could almost picture that he was a normal teenage boy, driving a beautiful, normal girl home from school. The sinking sun was peeking through the windows, bathing you in an ethereal glow, and - at least for right now- everything was perfect.

you were perfect.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban draped himself across your bed, a languid smirk on his lips as you kicked haphazardly placed piles of clothes into your closet.

“I promise I’m not usually this messy,” you apologized with a sheepish smile, shoving a mass of shoes under your bed, “okay, that's a lie. I’m always this messy, I just didn’t expect company.”

Caliban hardly minded. It was adorable how embarrassed you were, and he took the time to take in your bedroom (drawn from his reverie only by the occasional delighted shout when you found a shirt you’d thought had been sacrificed to the laundry gods, or worse, Sabrina’s room).

The first thing Caliban noticed was the books. While your clothes lay in scattered piles, all of your books were meticulously organized and lovingly tucked into shelves that took up an entire wall of the room. Sabrina may have answered that Caliban’s only hobby was torturing babies (or her, which was the same thing, really— and also, what the hell? Caliban may have enjoyed the occasional soul flaying, but only when it was well deserved!)— but Caliban loved to read.

What was one lifetime in one world, when he could learn of a thousand others in just as many universes? Immortality could grow dull, and eternity had to be spent somehow. Caliban tried not to smile as you precariously placed the book that had found its way onto your nightstand back into its place, and supposed that it might be far more enjoyable with someone else.

You seemed satisfied with your damage control, and slumped onto the bed dramatically with a groan. It was then that Caliban’s hand found a stray victim of your clothing massacre.

“Nice.” He grinned, and you peeked up from your playbook to find him dangling a pink lace bra.

Shit.

“Give me that!” You lunged, but Caliban was too fast. He quickly moved them from your reach, laughing wildly as you wrestled him desperately for the bra.

“You are the worst.” A groan escaped you, and you huffed in fake-defeat as Caliban smirked victoriously at your retreat. You leaped at the chance, tackling Caliban with all your might. While momentarily surprised, he reacted quickly and shifted so that he was now pinning you to the bed, his hair dangling wildly in your face as you both laughed.

Caliban’s face was so close that you could see the flecks of green in his eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to flicker to your lips, but in the seconds it took for you to find your voice again, you’d lost your nerve.

“We should get back to the scene.”

The moment was broken, and Caliban retreated with a bashful look on his face. He ran a hand through his hair and moved to sit across from you, his cheeks tinted a little red as he politely handed you back your intimates and pretended to shield his eyes when you tossed it somewhere. You’d never been so freaking embarrassed in your life, but Caliban was smiling so softly at you, like you were—

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” He motioned around with his hands dramatically, tone playful and light.

You were so dead. Caliban was freaking made for this romantic swooning nonsense that you’d tried to protest nearly the whole ride home, Billy Marlin be damned.

Giggling nervously in what you hoped seemed scene-appropriate, you tried your best to forget being a horny teenager to instead play a horny teenager. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

Caliban’s voice lowered, a smile still tugging at his lips as he took your hands in his own. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim.” Your own voice softened in turn as Caliban began to trace mindless patterns on the backs of your hands with his thumbs, “lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Caliban’s eyes were soft, and you imagined that Shakespeare had pictured the man in front of you when putting the words to paper. The words fell so naturally from his lips and he seemed engrossed in the scene— he was, for lack of a better word, enchanting.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” Your voice was hardly more than a breathless whisper, the proximity of your faces and the intimacy (however imagined) stealing the air from your lungs.

Caliban paused, his eyes meeting yours intently as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it as he took your face in both of his hands.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

It was all too much. You could hardly be blamed for kissing him as fiercely as you did.

It was like fireworks, like every cheesy romance novel and play (cough, Romeo and Juliet) claimed it would be. You’d had plenty of kisses before, but never one that melted your brain like this. You forgot all about the scene, about how not real this was supposed to be as your hands tangled in his windswept hair and he pulled you onto his lap.

It was Caliban who first pulled away, only just so that your noses were touching. He was breathing heavily, eyes blown wide— and you felt your whole face turn red as reality consumed you again. “I am so sorry, I’ll just—”

“Where do you think you’re going, Juliet?” Caliban’s hands firmly gripped your hips, preventing you from moving away. His fingers thumbed the band of your skirt, and his next words were a whisper against your lips.

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

kissed her for the first time yesterday

everything i wished that it would be

suddenly i forgot how to speak

hopeless, breathless, baby can't you see?

Caliban was in love. He’d spent the next three weeks with you reciting Romeo and Juliet, sharing shakes at Dr. Cerberus, and tugging you into empty classroom and closets at every opportunity to kiss you senseless. Every moment not spent with you was at least somewhat occupied by the thought of you, and Caliban found he wasn’t the least bit upset about it.

And Sabrina was pissed.

If she’d hated him before, she positively loathed him now. It was the latest point of contention between yourself and your darling cousin, who’d you taken to threatening with various kitchen utensils and promises to tell the aunties she’d been sneaking out to make her behave. And Caliban, for his part, was perfectly polite— even though he still had every intention of taking the throne from the inexperienced witch who promised to destroy the balance of heaven and hell.

Which presented Caliban’s own latest dilemma. He was going to have to tell you eventually— and in a way that didn't make you totally hate him. He had a plan. Okay, maybe a skeletal plan. Or no plan. Yeah, Caliban was going to wing it.

After today. He just had to make it through your reenactment of Romeo and Juliet with no demonic catastrophes or maiming Blly, and then he would tell you everything.

But even that was too much to ask.

Sabrina burst through the english classroom doors, yelling in barely concealed panic that there was a BIG problem and the principal needed Caliban now.

Caliban moved to leave with an apologetic smile in your direction, which you were absolutely not having. Despite your current frustration with Sabrina, she looked downright terrified, and you were both concerned for your cousin and overwhelmed with a gut feeling that something was up.

After a few moments, you excused yourself to use the restroom.

You hauled ass to the gym, where the screaming sounded to be coming from. When you entered, you were met with the strangest sight.

The gym was filled with winged... rats? And at the center of the chaos was Sabrina and Caliban, back to back and armed with what appeared to be lacrosse sticks. Caliban’s shirt was tattered from the rats, and you took a fraction of a second to banish the completely innappropriate and untimely thoughts from your head.

“And no one thought to call me?” You shouted angrily through the swarm, snagging a baseball bat from the rack and smacking it around with reckless abandon. Caliban hooted, laughing loudly as you took your place beside them. Rats tore at your clothes, but you were more frustrated that Sabrina had called your boyfriend (or whatever he was) over you.

“Why did you get Caliban! I was right there! Is there something wrong with you? Were you dropped on the head as a child? He’s not even from here Sabrina, he has no idea what-”

“For hell’s sake, he’s not the new kid! He’s not even from Australia! He’s a stupid clay prince from hell who is trying to take my throne and raze humanity, and his stupid plague king sent these after me, and now he’s dating you!” Sabrina spat out the word dating as if it was even more disgusting than the winged vermin tearing at your clothes.

“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on here?”

You were no less frustrated when Sabrina revealed her trek to hell and the all ensuing madness she’d partaken in, but you remained calm enough to not turn the bat on her clearly empty skull.

“And you’re the clay prince of hell... challenging her throne?” You questioned with a sharp glance at Caliban, who nodded reluctantly as he swatted a rat hurtling towards you.

“Do you even have a driver’s license!” You screamed, waving your baseball bat around wildly.

“I’m a demon prince of hell made out of clay, and you’re worried about if I can legally drive?” Caliban shouted back in astonishment through the wave of shrieking rats. The lacrosse stick he’d snagged was surprisingly effective.

“I was getting to that part, thank you for reminding me!” You hissed, debating whether to smash his face in with the bat. “How about we start with how you completely lied to me, and how our whole relationship or whatever it is a lie! Were you ever going to tell me? Or was this all part of some throne grab?”

“It wasn’t a lie!” Caliban demanded hotly. “You were not a lie!”

“Really!” You whirled on him, eyes alight with anger. “Because I sure feel like one!”

The rats numbers were dwindling rapidly, and you smacked the last one heading towards you directly at Caliban’s face. It collided with a satisfying shriek, and you threw your bat down as you stormed out of the gym.

Sabrina and Caliban rushed after you, but you’d disappeared in the hall.

now i'm, yeah, oh!

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

now i'm hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again, (oh)

love bug again

You’d remained collected until you’d transported into the middle of the living room, collapsing into auntie Hilda’s arms in a puddle of tears as you told her everything. She’d muttered a stream of ancient curses about Sabrina, but beyond that merely smoothed your hair and told you that all boys were awful— especially demonic princes of hell.

“I hate him.” You glared half-heartedly into your cup of steaming peppermint tea. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid. Falling blindly in love with a stranger who had only sought you out for some elaborate game with Sabrina. Screw Caliban and his perfect hair, his perfect smile, his perfect— “I want to bash his face in.”

“No you don't, love.” Hilda smiled knowingly. “You’re angry, yes— and hurt. But you care for the boy. I’ve never seen you so happy as you’ve been these last few days. I think you ought to cool down and hear what he has to say.”

“I never want to talk to him again.” You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “I’d rather die.”

And because the universe was truly conspiring against you, a knock sounded at the door.

“Well, best get over that quick.” Hilda warned, ignoring your stream of indignant protests as she hustled to the door.

“Caliban! Yes, do come in love. Oh, yes, we will be having a little chat later, but for now I think it’s my niece you must be speaking to.” Hilda’s cheerful voice trailed in from the foyer, and you jumped up to make a break for it.

You were halted by a familiar pair of strong arms tugging you back by the waist.

“Get off of me!” You shouted, pushing Caliban away harshly and ignoring the warmth that lingered where he’d touched you. “I want my baseball bat. Somebody get me my baseball bat! I’m going to bash your stupid pretty face in you asshole—”

“Five minutes.” Caliban pleaded desperately, “just give me a five minutes to explain, and then I’ll give you back the baseball bat to bash my face in, okay?”

You considered his offer for a moment, swallowing the sob crawling its way up your throat as you nodded reluctantly. If it made him leave faster, you’d do anything.

His shoulder sagged in barely concealed relief. “Okay. I am Caliban, Prince of Hell. I am not from Australia, clearly, and am not a transfer student. I am trying to take your cousin’s throne. She does not understand the realm of the damned— she thinks it needs to be generous, rather than a fair judgment of life. I am not her father, and I do not believe in reckless or cruel damnation. I do not wish any harm on Sabrina, and I’ve managed to keep the worst of the plague kings from her. Even if you were to reject me now, I would continue to try to protect her— you have my word.” Caliban paused as you released a breath you did not know you were holding. Your eyes finally dared to meet his, and you nodded for him to continue.

“I agreed to attend Greendale because yes, it did piss off Sabrina, but you were there.” He raised his hand to halt your protest. “You intrigued me, and I wanted to know you better. I will be fully honest that it had the added bonus of irritating your cousin, who I so delight in irritating, but my primary focus was you. You... enchanted me. I had never found myself so invested in anything before as I was in spending mundane days at high school— of all things— with you. Truthfully, it confused even me at first. And while the past you knew is false, I am real— and my feelings for you are true.”

“That is such bullshit, and you know it!” You exploded furiously, smacking his chest with untamed rage. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Who agrees to go to high school because they like a girl? Are you unhinged? Who doesn't just ask someone out if they were so interested, huh? No, you came here with your stupidly perfect little ‘oh I’m Caliban, and I’m so dreamy’ act, knowing full well that it would make me completely abandon all rationality. Well guess what, I did! I fell stupid head over heels for you, and it was all one big lie.”

Your voice broke on the last few words, anger shifting to broken sadness as you continued to pound relentlessly on his chest. “I was a lie.”

He caught your hands, holding them against his chest as he pressed you against the wall. “You weren't a lie, Spellman.”

His words were breathless whisper, his beautiful eyes pained and desperate as he gripped your hands harder. “I fell for you the moment I saw you. I enrolled in high school because you smiled at me. I learned every line of Romeo and Juliet to recite them to you. When we first met, you wondered how Romeo and Juliet could possibly fall in love after a mere few days, but I understand it now. I have never been driven so completely insane by anything or anyone like this before. The power you have over me is unmatched. I am completely and wholly yours. If you were to ask me right now to leave, to never bother you again, I would leave my heart with you and spend my eternity in endless sorrow. I would think forever of the way you smiled at me, the way you kissed me, how soft your hair felt in my hands, and how my heart raced every time you laughed. I would never forgive myself for the pain I had caused you, and you would haunt me every day, every waking moment, every dream.”

Caliban moved your hands to his lips, nearly kissing them as he pleaded to you with tears in his beautiful eyes. You were motionless, turned to stone by his heavy gaze.

“So please, don’t become my specter. If I am a stranger to you now, let me make you fall for me all over again. I would do it a thousand times, if you'd let me. I could think of no sweeter way to spend my eternity.”

When you’d thought that Shakespeare had been imagining Caliban when he wrote, you’d been wrong. There was no poetry, no book, no lyric that could possibly compare to the way he spoke to you— the way his eyes so desperately tried to convey his anguish.

You removed your hands from his, and his whole face seemed to shatter.

“You’re not a stranger,” you muttered softly, moving to take his face your hands. His face remained guarded, but he leaned instinctively into your touch. “You’re Caliban.”

When you kissed him, it was like falling in love all over again.

And you supposed you did.

“But we are having a long, long talk about everything.” You warned as you pulled back, poking his chest sharply as he nodded profusely. “And if you ever, ever lie to me again, I’ll set something worse than flying rats on you. I’ll let Sabrina have you.”

Caliban laughed wildly, picking you up and spinning you around as he kissed you over and over again in sheer relief and joy. “I love you, Spellman. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“I just want you, clay boy.”

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kirindensetsu · 4 years ago

Text

The Making of Fubuki

((Reposting from Den of Angels workshop thread because I wanted my friends to be able to see~))

After years of pining after dolls I couldn't afford as a broke teenager, my first BJD was a Bobobie Sprite I purchased for my 18th birthday. Unfortunately, she didn't live up to my expectations and I never really bonded with her. Her face was cute enough, but the Bobobie body lacked the grace and posing ability I imagined for the Unseelie faerie I'd been daydreaming of for years. Sueding and wiring didn't help, blushing and tattooing highlighted her blockiness, it was a mess. I packed her away and tried not to think about my disappointment for 12 years. In the meantime I learned to build and paint resin garage kits, inherited one of my sister's dolls, bought some others, took anatomy & physiology in college, and did a couple extensive restorations and full-body modifications. I was sure I had thrown her away at some point as a failed project, but last weekend I found her tucked away in a doll bag I thought was empty. Having just finished substantial mods on a Dollshe body, and awaiting an unfinished Unoa kit for my birthday in September, I decided that I owed it to her to try again. Doll nudity below the cut, looooong post--

My Sprite was originally going to be a pooka with golden eyes and extensive woad tattoos. The golden eyes are incredible, so those are staying, but she's now going to be a blue oni to fit in with the rest of my collection. My plan is to do extensive additive epoxy work, and then to use Krylon Fusion to give everything a unified finish. The goal of the project is to reduce the... idk, STRAIGHTNESS of the old Bobobie body. I was never going to be happy with it, the lines were all far too rigid.

Head: Modified mouth for a wider, smirking smile. Magnets added to headcap (old Bobobie used an S-hook iirc; I did this part back in 2008). Forehead drilled for 3mm brass rod armature, and epoxy used to sculpt horns over rod. Bust: Substantial subtractive modifications to breasts, which involved removal and readdition of nipples. Addition of epoxy clay to back and shoulders to give a more curved body line in profile. Deepening of shoulder sockets with 18mm eye bevel, followed by sanding to make shoulders narrower. Waist: Reshaping of upper torso joint into sphere for smoother range of motion. Subtraction of resin in back and addition of epoxy in front to enhance lumbar curve. Hips: Substantial reshaping of lower waist seam to more naturally follow the pelvic girdle. It reminded me of granny panties before Added epoxy to butt, again for lumbar curve. Thighs: Suwariko joint mod (cut the thigh and added a PVC insert to enable swivelling at the hip). Added epoxy to make her thighs look less straight. Calves: Removed 1cm of length at the ankles and rebevelled the socket. Removed resin at the ankles to bring them in, and added epoxy at the calves to make them curvier. Feet: Sculpted little claws, which were cute, and then decided the feet needed to be 5mm longer. Cut across, drilled and pinned with brass rod for structural strength, gap filled with epoxy clay. I also modded her feet to have defined arches and balls back when I first got her. Alas, spitting into the ocean. I added S-hooks, but did so by drilling the ankle and inserting brass rod to form the axle for the hook. Arms: The proportions on her upper arms BOTHERED me! they were so SHORT! and I only just figured out that's what I hated about them last week! I added 5mm to the upper arms by cutting them in the middle and using SteelStik to make a structural repair (plumber's epoxy putty has a shorter open time but far greater structural strength than artist's epoxy clay). Sanded the heck out of the wrists to give them a more delicate taper. Hands: Beyond salvage. The hands were my least-favorite part of this sculpt. I tried to bulk them up to look less spidery but it was just too difficult... I've ordered a different pair of MSD hands which will have claws added, and then when everything is painted it'll all match. Thanks for reading this far! Here's a preview of what her golden eyes look like next to Krylon Fusion in Antique Blue.

((first progress post)) I think I'm mostly done adding epoxy clay (at least where it'll show; presumably the wrist sockets will require tweaks to fit the new hands), so now it's time for finish sanding. I start with 60 grit for shaping, then switch to a 120 grit sanding sponge. To check for scratches, pinholes, and inadequately feathered edges, I apply a wash of diluted acrylic paint. Once the paint has dried, I scrub the piece with a nylon scouring pad. Paint remains in the surface irregularities.

All sanded with 220 grit. I don't think I'll be going higher than 400 because I want there to be some tooth for the paint.

Any pitting in the epoxy clay that can't be sanded out is marked with a Sharpie and will be patched with Tamiya spot putty.

I did a test spray of the Krylon Fusion on the headcap and it's fantastic! Holy cow is it *poisonous* tho, I'm used to working with volatile chemicals but this was something else. Get OUT OF THE AREA between coats and leave it outside until it stops outgassing, not just until it's ready to handle.

This test piece is four light coats sprayed 1 minute apart, allowed to cure for 4 hours, and then wetsanded to remove the spray texture. It's pretty sturdy but I will wait several more days to see how it continues to cure before experimenting with matte sealants. ((progress update 2))

Haven't done much but sand-and-fill-and-sand-and-fill, but my 14mm beveller came in today so I can start deepening her elbow and ankle sockets. Added some epoxy clay to the insides of the eyewells so 14mm eyes will fit with no gap. I need a needle file to clean up the corners of her mouth... Monster feets! Nails on the right came out better than the left, still need to feather-sand everything.

Elbows progress. The early Bobobie elbows are I guess /technically/ double-jointed because the joint is a sphere with two slots, but I thought I could do better than that. You can see epoxy clay spliced in to make the sphere into a peanut: this isn't a structurally sound repair unless you pop it apart and drill/pin/glue-epoxy it back together.

View from the back. By keeping the joint heads spherical with no elbow-shaped detailing, there's some rotation as well as flexion, which I like.

Touching her face with one of her old hands. I hope the new ones come soon!

((progress update 4))

In good news, these parts are all ready for paint! It's really hard to do prepwork with no filler primer, hope I didn't miss any spots...

In less good news, her new hands arrived and they are... very smol ;u; I forgot that the new trend for slim minis means that everyone has TINY LITTLE HANDS.

They are, however, beautifully sculpted and a good 3D reference for what needs fixing and how. Bobobie palm is very short relative to fingers: I made a transverse cut behind the knuckles and added epoxy to lengthen More curved volume across the back of the hand: Not necessarily realistic, but looks a little cuter, plus it makes the transition into the cylinder of the wrist look less stylistically jarring. More defined joint angles: Some of these I did via cut-and-thermoform repositioning, mostly I'm aiming to fake it by building up and carving away at the weird smooth curves. The fingers are just TOO SKINNY: But obviously I'm not going to squish rice-grain-sized blobs of epoxy to the fingers, right? It's too fiddly, it doesn't want to stick. What's the solution? Brace for a truly hideous WIP image--

"AAAAAAGH WHAT IS THAT DARK GRAY MESS" it's JB Weld epoxy! It's like load-bearing, slow-curing modeller's putty! Slathering putty onto an armature and then carving it away to refine the shape is how anime figure artists make hands and detailed hair. I was thinking about it from a polymer clay technique/perspective so I missed the obvious solution. Hand in the foreground has more layers than the hand in the background, every layer gets the shape a lil closer. ((progress post 5)) Parts set up on sticks so I can handle them without touching...

... and after 4 light coats!

Closeup of the head, lil' glossy because it's still drying. For the deeper areas like the joint slots, mouth, and the crannies of the ears, I'm going to have to decant some of the paint into a jar and apply it with a sacrificial brush.

((progress post 6)) I return from Depression! I finally finished sanding-and-spraying the Krylon Fusion coats, gave her a last polish with microfine to even out the texture, and have started blushing her. I'm using a mixture of Tamiya X-series acrylics applied via airbrush for basic contouring, then I'll go back in with pastel to add warm tones and details.

Fun discovery: in an attempt to cover some accidental overspray, I tried spraying the Fusion directly into the paint cup of the airbrush and using it to "erase" back to the base color. I'm NEVER using this product straight from the can again, it goes on so smooth and gorgeous from the airbrush! No orange peel or bubbles to sand away. I'm seriously tempted to get a can of pink and try blushing with it.

((progress post 7)) Doing a faceup over a spray-painted substrate is HARD I want to CRY. I talked about sanding out the spray texture to get an untextured surface, right? Welp, didn't/couldn't sand well enough in the corners of the mouth and the folds of the eyelids, so it's crusty-looking with pastels over it and now there's nothing I can do about it that doesn't involve stripping down to resin and starting again.

((final post)) Sueded and strung!

I didn't take pictures of the sueding process because I was using Barge Cement and it is messy and time-sensitive. I used masking tape to make templates of her joints, transferred to some thin gray lamb suede I found on eBay, and glued it fuzzy side out. The suede was thicker than real pliver, more like the thickness of silicone KIPS discs, but I think it worked out without too many fit issues. The trim store had 3.5mm elastic in a beautiful slate-blue color that I thought would look nicer in the joint slots, so she's strung throughout with thicker elastic. Some more poses to show off the functional mods~ Suwariko joints let her sit crosslegged, and more mobile wrists let her put her hands into the pose.

A more ball-and-socked shaped contact surface at her waist lets her slouch at a full range of angles instead of being locked into two.

With longer upper arms, she can reach the ground in this pose! You can also see how the modded waist joint lets her cock her hips.

She could always stand with locked knees. I think she needs some wire in her legs to let the suwariko joints hold their rotation against gravity, but I'll see how the elastic tension settles in first.

A parting shot out the snowy window. We've been having a hard time picking between a few names for her, but I think this settles it. Welcome back, Fubuki~

#making-of-fubuki #doll custom #bjd #bobobie

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st-just · 3 years ago

Text

A Typology of Spirits

So I desperately needed a distraction today, and recently remembered what WorldAnvil is, so ended up doing my favorite kind of worldbuilding - drawing important metaphysical distinctions between folkloric terms that are all basically synonyms.

An Angel is a pure and uncorrupted Divine Soul, an incarnation of the Celestial Will, descending from the Heavens as a result of a sufficiently grand Sacred Petition or to carry out the Ineffable Will of the Heavens. Sadly, those which has deigned to answer the questions of supplicants have replied that they have no memory of the Heavens, save the burning Purpose for which they descend unto the Earth. Pure Soul, they are driven and purposeful, with little interest in anything else.

While separate from the Profane World, Angels are physically impotent, but all but the most minor are spiritually mighty, with a Celestial remit to Discipline and Extirpate Demons, the Dead, and any others whose Souls are not in alignment with their bodies. As Celestial Beings, they can also Bless and Sanctify they souls and tools of mortals, Empowering them to carry out a Purpose.

Angels do not tarry long in the World – and those who do, do not remain Angels. It is often the case that they are petitioned to take up stewardship or a land whose Gods were killed or corrupted, and in so doing they becomes Gods themselves. Else, on completion of their Purpose, they universally return to the Heavens, and beyond the reach of Mortal senses. Finally, on rare occasions, when prevented from carrying out their Purpose, direly wounded, or corrupted by Profane Manipulations, Angels have on rare occasions been known to Fall, gathering up the raw material of the World into a Form and Aura for themselves. While every Fallen is unique, they each follow one of their Three Orders, depending on which part of the World they draw most deeply on.

The most storied of the Fallen are the Fae. Their forms and auras are predominantly spun of Thought or Dream. Their forms are transient and shifting, changing according to their every Whim, but are always Wondrous and Beautiful to Behold, though their guises are often quite Terrible as well. Repulsed by stagnation and boredom, Fae forever seek to entrap others in the fantasies, dramas, deals and conspiracies they weave, often with no higher purpose than their own Amusement or satisfying their occult sense of Justice. Disdaining physicality, they prefer to entrap opponents in artificial dreams, or distract them with Illusions so vibrant they believe themselves to be Truth.

The most infamous of the Fallen are the Djinn and Ifrit. Their forms and auras are predominantly built from the Elements or Matter. Their forms are to a degree Protean, but the Elements which they have taken as their own are always clear. Passionate and Vainglorious, they Inevitably reshape the very landscapes around them into Monuments of their Hubris, and seek out Dangers and Impossible Trials they consider worthy of their Efforts. In these Civilized Times, many or most have been Damned, or Bound by other hands, but in the vast expanses of sea, sky and trackless steppe, many still hold their courts, and woe betide the travel whose ship is caught in their path.

The rarest of the Fallen are named Titans. Their forms and auras are predominantly sculpted of Flesh, and so they appear similar to Mortal Life created on the Divine Plan, but far more Awesome, and on a far Grander scale. Towering far above any Mortal, they work their own Flesh and that of others like clay, often moulding wild beasts into servitors and extensions of their Soul. Most Famously, the Hundred-Handed Titans of the Outer World ruled a Grand Empire for Centuries, moulding servitor races to wait on them and heighten their glory, decaying into Decadence as they Lessened themselves to Ensoul their servitors and creating self-perpetuating slave races to Conquer and Build across the Land.

The Terrestrial Gods or Sacred Spirits are the Divine Souls charged and entrusted with the stewardship of span of Nature or population of Beasts. Like a Human Soul on a Broader and Grander Scale, they act as Soul and Spirit for all the Lesser forms of life, plant, beast and vermin alike. Their might varies widely, of a kind with the prominence of their Domain, of which they are inevitably fiercely protective. As long as their charges are protected, most are entirely content with the Divine Order, but the mightiest often grow Proud, creating whole courts and kingdoms of lesser divinities and mortal worshippers. Still others are corrupted by their worshippers, perverted into one form of abomination or another. In any event, to slay a God is a Crime against the Heavens, as they are vital to the proper functioning of the World, and without a governing Soul their domain will quickly grow wild and dark.

A Devil could be any number of things, as any being, Mortal or Spirit alike, may be Damned by their Crimes and the Judgment of Heaven and the Throne. Spiritually branded and crippled, they are imprisoned in the Hell most appropriate for their crimes, enduring their Just punishment for all eternity, or until recalled by the Throne or one of its agents. The process of being Damned leaves every Devil subject to the commands of any correctly executed Conjuring, lending ever Imperial Binder access to servants far beyond what the petty Sorcerers of other lands can hope to dominate. Care must be taken, however, as Devils forever seek to escape their punishments, and will seek any weakness in their bindings or vagueness in their commands to draw out their time in the World, or escape their summoners control entirely.

The Soulless or Demons are not spirits at all, but the terrible result of their lack. Without a capable Soul to master it and force it into alignment with the Divine Will, the world rebels, breaking free of its bindings and seeking to unmake itself. There is no Will or Identity behind this – there cannot be, as it occurs from the very absence of one. But the great and terrible Archdemons whose butchered flesh forms the World did not know Death, and have never accepted it. Mindless and hopeless, their twitching corpses still act by reflex and impulse whenever the Sacred Duty of keeping them mastered is failed. Their cause is hopeless, but no Demon is capable of understanding that, and acts in their peculiar and futile way to resurrect their parent, and vent their endless spite at the Order, Beauty and Virtue which are the surest signs of the Victory of the Heavens.

-The Lady Binder Katerine ir Paimon “The Choirs of the Immaterial, An Introduction”

#worldbuilding #abhari #this is theoretically a writing blog #ah I hate Father's Day

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mr-entj · 5 years ago

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Mental Health Wellness Tips for Quarantine

Sharing a piece a clinical psychologist in my network published.

______________

After having thirty-one sessions this week with patients where the singular focus was COVID-19 and how to cope, I decided to consolidate my advice and make a list that I hope is helpful to all. I can't control a lot of what is going on right now, but I can contribute this.

Edit: I am surprised and heartened that this has been shared so widely! People have asked me to credential myself, so to that end, I am a doctoral level Psychologist in NYS with a Psy.D. in the specialities of School and Clinical Psychology.

1. Stick to a routine. Go to sleep and wake up at a reasonable time, write a schedule that is varied and includes time for work as well as self-care.

2. Dress for the social life you want, not the social life you have. Get showered and dressed in comfortable clothes, wash your face, brush your teeth. Take the time to do a bath or a facial. Put on some bright colors. It is amazing how our dress can impact our mood.

3. Get out at least once a day, for at least thirty minutes. If you are concerned of contact, try first thing in the morning, or later in the evening, and try less traveled streets and avenues. If you are high risk or living with those who are high risk, open the windows and blast the fan. It is amazing how much fresh air can do for spirits.

4. Find some time to move each day, again daily for at least thirty minutes. If you don’t feel comfortable going outside, there are many YouTube videos that offer free movement classes, and if all else fails, turn on the music and have a dance party!

5. Reach out to others, you guessed it, at least once daily for thirty minutes. Try to do FaceTime, Skype, phone calls, texting—connect with other people to seek and provide support. Don’t forget to do this for your children as well. Set up virtual playdates with friends daily via FaceTime, Facebook Messenger Kids, Zoom, etc—your kids miss their friends, too!

6. Stay hydrated and eat well. This one may seem obvious, but stress and eating often don’t mix well, and we find ourselves over-indulging, forgetting to eat, and avoiding food. Drink plenty of water, eat some good and nutritious foods, and challenge yourself to learn how to cook something new!

7. Develop a self-care toolkit. This can look different for everyone. A lot of successful self-care strategies involve a sensory component (seven senses: touch, taste, sight, hearing, smell, vestibular (movement) and proprioceptive (comforting pressure). An idea for each: a soft blanket or stuffed animal, a hot chocolate, photos of vacations, comforting music, lavender or eucalyptus oil, a small swing or rocking chair, a weighted blanket. A journal, an inspirational book, or a mandala coloring book is wonderful, bubbles to blow or blowing watercolor on paper through a straw are visually appealing as well as work on controlled breath. Mint gum, Listerine strips, ginger ale, frozen Starburst, ice packs, and cold are also good for anxiety regulation. For children, it is great to help them create a self-regulation comfort box (often a shoe-box or bin they can decorate) that they can use on the ready for first-aid when overwhelmed.

8. Spend extra time playing with children. Children will rarely communicate how they are feeling, but will often make a bid for attention and communication through play. Don’t be surprised to see therapeutic themes of illness, doctor visits, and isolation play through. Understand that play is cathartic and helpful for children—it is how they process their world and problem solve, and there’s a lot they are seeing and experiencing in the now.

9. Give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and a wide berth. A lot of cooped up time can bring out the worst in everyone. Each person will have moments when they will not be at their best. It is important to move with grace through blowups, to not show up to every argument you are invited to, and to not hold grudges and continue disagreements. Everyone is doing the best they can to make it through this.

10. Everyone find their own retreat space. Space is at a premium, particularly with city living. It is important that people think through their own separate space for work and for relaxation. For children, help them identify a place where they can go to retreat when stressed. You can make this place cozy by using blankets, pillows, cushions, scarves, beanbags, tents, and “forts”. It is good to know that even when we are on top of each other, we have our own special place to go to be alone.

11. Expect behavioral issues in children, and respond gently. We are all struggling with disruption in routine, none more than children, who rely on routines constructed by others to make them feel safe and to know what comes next. Expect increased anxiety, worries and fears, nightmares, difficulty separating or sleeping, testing limits, and meltdowns. Do not introduce major behavioral plans or consequences at this time—hold stable and focus on emotional connection.

12. Focus on safety and attachment. We are going to be living for a bit with the unprecedented demand of meeting all work deadlines, homeschooling children, running a sterile household, and making a whole lot of entertainment in confinement. We can get wrapped up in meeting expectations in all domains, but we must remember that these are scary and unpredictable times for children. Focus on strengthening the connection through time spent following their lead, through physical touch, through play, through therapeutic books, and via verbal reassurances that you will be there for them in this time.

13. Lower expectations and practice radical self-acceptance. This idea is connected with #12. We are doing too many things in this moment, under fear and stress. This does not make a formula for excellence. Instead, give yourself what psychologists call “radical self acceptance”: accepting everything about yourself, your current situation, and your life without question, blame, or pushback. You cannot fail at this—there is no roadmap, no precedent for this, and we are all truly doing the best we can in an impossible situation.

14. Limit social media and COVID conversation, especially around children. One can find tons of information on COVID-19 to consume, and it changes minute to minute. The information is often sensationalized, negatively skewed, and alarmist. Find a few trusted sources that you can check in with consistently, limit it to a few times a day, and set a time limit for yourself on how much you consume (again 30 minutes tops, 2-3 times daily). Keep news and alarming conversations out of earshot from children—they see and hear everything, and can become very frightened by what they hear.

15. Notice the good in the world, the helpers. There is a lot of scary, negative, and overwhelming information to take in regarding this pandemic. There are also a ton of stories of people sacrificing, donating, and supporting one another in miraculous ways. It is important to counter-balance the heavy information with the hopeful information.

16. Help others. Find ways, big and small, to give back to others. Support restaurants, offer to grocery shop, check in with elderly neighbors, write psychological wellness tips for others—helping others gives us a sense of agency when things seem out of control.

17. Find something you can control, and control the heck out of it. In moments of big uncertainty and overwhelm, control your little corner of the world. Organize your bookshelf, purge your closet, put together that furniture, group your toys. It helps to anchor and ground us when the bigger things are chaotic.

18. Find a long-term project to dive into. Now is the time to learn how to play the keyboard, put together a huge jigsaw puzzle, start a 15 hour game of Risk, paint a picture, read the Harry Potter series, binge watch an 8-season show, crochet a blanket, solve a Rubix cube, or develop a new town in Animal Crossing. Find something that will keep you busy, distracted, and engaged to take breaks from what is going on in the outside world.

19. Engage in repetitive movements and left-right movements. Research has shown that repetitive movement (knitting, coloring, painting, clay sculpting, jump roping etc) especially left-right movement (running, drumming, skating, hopping) can be effective at self-soothing and maintaining self-regulation in moments of distress.

20. Find an expressive art and go for it. Our emotional brain is very receptive to the creative arts, and it is a direct portal for release of feeling. Find something that is creative (sculpting, drawing, dancing, music, singing, playing) and give it your all. See how relieved you can feel. It is a very effective way of helping kids to emote and communicate as well!

21. Find lightness and humor in each day. There is a lot to be worried about, and with good reason. Counterbalance this heaviness with something funny each day: cat videos on YouTube, a stand-up show on Netflix, a funny movie—we all need a little comedic relief in our day, every day.

22. Reach out for help—your team is there for you. If you have a therapist or psychiatrist, they are available to you, even at a distance. Keep up your medications and your therapy sessions the best you can. If you are having difficulty coping, seek out help for the first time. There are mental health people on the ready to help you through this crisis. Your children’s teachers and related service providers will do anything within their power to help, especially for those parents tasked with the difficult task of being a whole treatment team to their child with special challenges. Seek support groups of fellow home-schoolers, parents, and neighbors to feel connected. There is help and support out there, any time of the day—although we are physically distant, we can always connect virtually.

23. “Chunk” your quarantine, take it moment by moment. We have no road map for this. We don’t know what this will look like in 1 day, 1 week, or 1 month from now. Often, when I work with patients who have anxiety around overwhelming issues, I suggest that they engage in a strategy called “chunking”—focusing on whatever bite-sized piece of a challenge that feels manageable. Whether that be 5 minutes, a day, or a week at a time—find what feels doable for you, and set a time stamp for how far ahead in the future you will let yourself worry. Take each chunk one at a time, and move through stress in pieces.

24. Remind yourself daily that this is temporary. It seems in the midst of this quarantine that it will never end. It is terrifying to think of the road stretching ahead of us. Please take time to remind yourself that although this is very scary and difficult, and will go on for an undetermined amount of time, it is a season of life and it will pass. We will return to feeing free, safe, busy, and connected in the days ahead.

25. Find the lesson. This whole crisis can seem sad, senseless, and at times, avoidable. When psychologists work with trauma, a key feature to helping someone work through said trauma is to help them find their agency, the potential positive outcomes they can effect, the meaning and construction that can come out of destruction. What can each of us learn here, in big and small ways, from this crisis? What needs to change in ourselves, our homes, our communities, our nation, and our world?

(x)

#coronavirus #covid-19 #stress #mental health #fear #anxiety #mental wellness #psychology #life #resource

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leafenclaw · 5 years ago

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Hey! So uh, I don’t know how many of you have been having mysterious headaches recently, but I’ve had quite a number of housebound friends complaining of this in the past few days?

And if this is happening to you, before panicking about your health, I’d strongly recommend to:

1 - Pay attention to the amount of noise in your place. Electric appliances, fridges, computers, and clocks especially, make much more noise than most realise. What seems like a silent rumble or light ticking that you can easily tune out at first can (and most likely will) become an absolutely awful source of background irritation for your ears and brain.

Try to spend as much time as possible in quiet rooms with few appliances and electronics.

Unplug all electric appliances you aren’t immediately using and can safely unplug.

Temporarily relocate that noisy clock to another room.

Use noise-cancelling headphones if you have them, otherwise earbuds with some soothing music can help as well.

If the increase in noise comes from housebound neighbours, try to come to a solution peacefully (and, for the same reason, be considerate to your neighbours about the amount of noise you make). You’re all in this together.

2 - Make sure you aren’t surrounded by strong smells. What seems like soothing aromatherapy can quickly become a nightmare for your senses when it’s right in front of you all day. Baking smells, flowering plants, and on the unpleasant side litter boxes and trash cans can end up being an irritation you may not immediately realise the extent of.

Get rid of the pot-pourri. Put the incense and essential oils away. Avoid wearing perfume when you're not going out. Relocate the flowering plants to another room.

Space out the cooking and baking sessions to avoid saturating your place (and potentially your neighbours’ places) with clashing smells.

Clean your animal’s litter box every day without fail. Switch to unscented litter if you haven’t already. Take out the trash regularly.

Open the windows. Make sure your place gets some fresh air every day.

If it’s really too cold or too hot to open a window, use a fan for at least 20-30 minutes inside to make sure the air moves around a bit.

If the smell comes from outside your place, close the windows and again, use a fan. Don’t make the mistake of putting on incense or something to change the smell, it’ll only make it worse.

3 - Self-care, self-care, self-care. This one I’m sure you heard already, it’s a classic. But it’s always worth investigating if your headache isn’t coming from irritants in your environment.

Take breaks from social media and the news.

I can’t stress that enough. Take breaks. This pandemic can wait on you for a few hours, and so can your friends.

Make sure to have daily conversations that have nothing to do with the pandemic. Laughter is the best way to counter stress.

15 minutes of break away from phone/computer/tv/video game/etc. for every 45 minutes of screen time is a good rule of thumb. Adapt this to your schedule as needed.

Make sure you’re getting enough natural light. Spend one of those 15 minutes break in front of a window when it’s still light outside.

Make sure you’re sleeping enough. Take naps as needed.

Stay hydrated. Fresh water does wonders for the brain. Sometimes just a few sips can help tone down a headache.

Eat healthily in amount and content as much as possible.

Take regular showers. Change your clothes and bed sheets as often as needed.

Stretch regularly. Exercise if you have enough space. It may be the perfect time to try meditation.

Wear comfortable clothes. Sit in comfortable chairs. Turn yourself into a burrito with the help of fluffy, comfortable blankets.

If you’re taking meds, take your meds.

4 - Be creative! Headaches can easily be caused by stress and boredom. One of the best ways to feel good about life and yourself is to create something tangible (as in, something that will keep existing once the activity is completed).

Write! It’s Camp NaNoWriMo until the end of April. Fiction, poetry, personal accounts of how you’re dealing with the pandemic (certain to be of interest to historians in 100+ years). It’s all good.

Draw! Paint! Finger-paint on towels with food dye! Make gifs! Make memes!

Sculpt a fairy garden or your own tiny zoo with legos or modelling clay! Build tiny creatures with nanoblocks!

Knit! Crochet! Perfect time to work on that scarf or those socks you always promised yourself you’d make one day.

Record yourself singing or playing your favourite song! Record videos on any kind of subject you feel like being chatty about!

Find any other creative output suited to your means and interests. =)

5 - Ask your neurodivergent, chronically ill, socially anxious, and otherwise housebound friends and relatives for more tips. They have been dealing with sensory issues, chronic pain, and/or social isolation for much longer than you have. They have plenty of experience and coping skills to share, and if you ask with respect, they may even be happy to do so.

If anything else comes to mind, feel free to add to this list!

In the meantime, take care of yourselves and stay safe. =)

#my brain is catch-22 #I'm not exactly sure how to tag this #covid-19 #social distancing #lockdown #self-care #headache #something else?#anyway #just take care of yourselves peeps #we are living in interesting times

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wordsfromthesol · 5 years ago

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You’re a what... (2/4)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zalladane @ghost-brocolli Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: Your life is turned upside down when you suddenly land in Gotham. Thankfully Dick is nearby and knows way more than he lets on. Warnings: Language, violence, all those good things Word Count: 1.7k

Part One Part Three Part Four

Dick shook you from your sleep, “Y/N! You’re safe! Wake up!”

You opened your eyes to see Dick leaning over you with a worried expression on his face. Your mind had still not caught up, but you blurted out anyways, “Fuck! How the hell did he even convince Hypnos to let him pull that bullshit?!” Your fists clenched with anger and electricity danced between your fingers. Dick looked over at you and you could see the gears turning in his mind.

“Hypnos…uncle…lightning…family drama…you’ve got to be kidding me. Y/N, you’re a god, aren’t you?”

“Technically…Wait, you actually believe that?”

“Well…” Dick contemplated what he should tell you, or rather how much he should tell you. “My dad knows Wonder Woman. She’s an Amazon, so that’s not that far off…”

You chuckled, “Oh, she’s no Amazon.” Before Dick could question you further, you continued, smiling with the knowledge that revealing this information would just further piss off your own father. “She’s a god, even if she doesn’t know it yet. I wonder what bullshit my father spun for that tale.”

“She said…sculpted from clay, Zeus brought her to life…”

“Yeah, sure. Even my dear old dad doesn’t have that kind of power. He ‘brought her to life’ by sleeping with Hippolyta. He takes what he wants, without regard or consequences.” Your chest went heavy as you remembered your own mother, who died giving birth to you, and left you alone with him. Hera terrorizing you every chance she got, after all you were just another one of Zeus’ bastard children. “So, any chance you know Di – Wonder Woman enough to get me an introduction?”

“Uhm…yeah, I…maybe. I’ll let you know.”

You threw your head into your hands, “Then again, the Amazons do love Hera. I wonder if Diana would even help me…I wonder if Hera knows Diana’s lineage? Maybe father actually managed to keep it from her…” You trailed off, forgetting that you were speaking aloud, and that Dick was in the room.

“I’m guessing Hera is not your mother then.”

You looked up at him, “What, oh yeah. No. Which is why I’m not technically, like a FULL on god… like Diana could probably take me in a fight. At least her mom is an Amazon, mine was just your average old human.”

“Human? You’re part human?”

“Is that such a surprise?”

“No…I guess I just didn’t realize Zeus was still coming down here to…play with humans.”

“Oh honey. I’m over a thousand years old. Hera has had him on a short leash after I showed up.”

“There’s no way you’re a thousand years old.”

You shrugged, “Time passes differently,” you pointed towards the ceiling, “up there. Who knows how this stupid human form will age.”

“Didn’t you say you were part human? Now you’re dissing us?”

You throw a pillow in his direction, “It’s not like I’ve ever actually been human!”

He picked up your failed attempt to hit him and threw it back towards you, “Well maybe give it a try first!”

“Hmph. What am I even supposed to do?”

“Get a job, make some friends, live. Like everyone else does down here.”

Nearly a month had passed. A month of you bumming on Dick’s couch, not knowing what to do. Not knowing any other human, besides the occasional chat with the barista at the coffee shop down the block or the avoidance of cat calls as you walked to said coffee shop. You still weren’t sure what Dick did, but he definitely wasn’t just a detective. He often came home with way too many cuts and bruises for simple police work. As you were going through the possibilities in your head, Dick walked through the door with a fresh cut through his jaw.

“Good news, Y/N/N, Wonder Woman agreed to meet you.” You moved to get up from the couch, but Dick quickly realized the miscommunication, “Tomorrow. Lunch tomorrow, she agreed to meet you. At Wayne Manor. My dad’s house.”

You settled back into the couch, “Okay.”

“That’s all I get? Okay?” Dick strolled over and sat beside you.

“I just…I don’t know if it’s even worth it anymore. She will know what to do as much as I do. I guess she may be able to get me passage to Tartarus. See Persephone…or give Hypnos a piece of my damn mind.”

“Zeus still invading your dreams?”

“Can’t you tell by my nightly scream sessions.” You rolled your eyes, trying to play off the pain you felt each time you allowed your mind to drift into sleep. In fact, that was why you hadn’t slept in nearly three days, and you had to admit this stupid human body was starting to feel it.

“Haven’t heard them in awhile…” Dick gazed into your eyes and began to notice the familiar signs of sleep deprivation. “Maybe there’s a different reason for that though.” He felt bad he hadn’t noticed sooner, but he had been to preoccupied nailing the drug ring he was after the night he met you.

You hung your head, realized you had been caught. “Yeah, it’s just easier this way.”

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but these lovely human bodies need sleep. Come on.” He pulled you up off the couch and led you into the bedroom. He watched as fear paved over your face and your breathing grew unsteady. “Hey, it’s alright. Just a few hours. Your body is going to start shutting down if you don’t get a few hours.”

You nodded hesitantly and crawled into the bed. You looked at him with pleading eyes until he moved to lay beside you. Without warning you curled into his chest, dreading the night to come.

Dick was shaking you awake several hours later, mumbling over and over, “You’re safe, you’re safe, it’s just a dream. You’re safe.” You felt bad for putting this stranger through your nonsensical life, but you had no other choice. Once you had answers from Diana, you promised yourself you would leave Dick out of everything. You didn’t want him dying because he helped you.

Finally, the two of you made your way to Wayne Manor. You hadn’t actually met any of Dick’s family…though he did talk about them. You’d much prefer him talking about his family than you about yours. Walking into the dining room, you saw a statuesque figure standing before you. Of course she’s drop dead gorgeous.

“Di – Wonder Woman. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Relax, Y/N. I trust these men, you may call me Diana. So, you are the cause of all pandemonium.”

“I guess so? I didn’t mean to be. Look, can we talk…” you eyed Dick and Bruce, “somewhere else?”

“We can, though it may be easier if we have their help.”

“NO!” The word came out much sharper than you intended. Your mind just kept floating back to scenes of Dick laying dead in your arms.

Diana eyed the two men, “I think it might be best if we were all a little more honest here.” Neither of the men made any effort to reveal information. “Alright,” Diana eventually spoke up again. “Guess we are going elsewhere then.” Diana led you to out to a garden, the two of you walking in silence. You sat on a nearby bench, deciding it was time to spin your tale. By the time you were done, you looked up to Diana, hopeful for ideas.

“My sister, that is a lot. I’m afraid I do not know what to do either. Our best option is to find Persephone. I do agree that she is likely the one who placed you on this earth.”

“Got access to Tartarus?”

“On Themyscria. I will work on passage for you. It should not be a problem, as you are female…and half god.” You grasped her wrist as she turned to leave.

“Diana…you know Zeus is your father, right?”

“I had long since suspected. But I will never get over the looks on men’s faces when I tell them I was sculpted from clay.” She gave you a wink before adding. “Be ready tomorrow. We leave at dawn.”

“Well everything I own is borrowed from Dick, so I’m already ready. Unless I should get back into my toga.”

She glanced over your attire, “It would be preferable. Jeans are too restrictive, and I have a gnawing feeling there is going to be a fight ahead of us.”

“You too, huh?”

Diana nodded with affirmation before heading back inside. You did not follow, you needed time to think, you needed more time to hone your skills. Zeus had trained you in Olympus and made sure all your opponents were stronger than you…but it had always felt different. That was training and though your opponents could have easily subdued you, they feared Zeus’ wrath and didn’t dare harm you. Even Hera’s bribes couldn’t even phase them. You just were hoped that once back in Tartarus, back in a land of the gods, your body would feel like your own again. Somehow in the back of your mind, you knew that would never be true again. It would always be different now, you couldn’t put a pin in why – though your suspicions kept trailing to Dick.

Diana approached Bruce and Dick, who were discussing their own plans in the matter.

“You too need to tell her how involved you actually are. She’s worried about you.” Her eyes could drill holes into Dick’s. “I know it would ease her mind, if she knew that you were capable of handling yourself. I have a feeling Zeus will not give up easily, he is not used to defiance. There will be a fight.”

“We can explain on the way to Themyscira.” Bruce’s voice was low and unfaltering.

“Bruce, we’ve been over this. I can’t just bring you to Themyscira, and I especially can’t bring you to Tartarus. Mortal men do not go to Tartarus unless they don’t plan on coming back.”

“Well I’m going. You haven’t seen her. What Zeus is doing to her in these dreams.” Dick shook his head, “No, I’m not letting her do this alone.”

“My mother is not going to like this.”

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years ago

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Drawing a Line Between Humility and Self-Deprecation

Here’s the introduction: you may not like this, but you’re past your peak performance. Your highs aren’t as high, but you don’t reach your lows as low. You cling to clinging as that’s what others cling to so you think you know yourself pretty well, huh? So let’s talk about it, then. Let’s talk about how you would rather not talk. You want to talk so much. Some may call you passionate on a good day. At your best you can go on for hours about what you love. At your worst you can go on and on about how you feel something’s wrong as you prepare to contradict at every turn when upset and expect others to understand even when you don’t. You’re slighted at the slightest slight. Simple truths become a sign of malice. Any sign you can find looks like the wrong ones. When we break it down for you, you break down.

But here’s the truth: you’re neither the best nor the worst but you’ll cling to the latter and balk at middle grounds. You know better than to dwell on the negatives and even that statement sounds like a negative in your head. Once again, at your best you’re passionate. At your worst, you’re too self-indulgent. Too self-centered. Talk and talk and leave others little room to speak then balk when they say so little in return. You yourself can’t match the passion you expect from others. How quaint. Such a shame. You say you want friends and deep down want a soundboard then when presented a person you claim things like love and friendship must not exist. You may be the most real thing in your head. You want something permanent something that drags out yet have given up partway through most endeavors. Any type of relationship arouses suspicion. That’s the most profound arousal you have. Not that there aren’t other sources of stimuli they just appear as specks.

Most of the time, you know the right things to do. But unknowing is so much easier. Giving into negative thoughts and emotions are much more liberating. Those pedestals you make for others are almost as fragile as you are. Let someone sit atop and watch it crumble. Maybe in a perverse way, that’s your satisfaction. Truly, a climax to you is an end in every sense. But true resolutions are few and far between. Not even necessary. So to compensate, you’ll write about the same people you hurt or think have hurt you on and on and hope to give the next iteration more weight. You yearn for a catharsis that never seems to come. When you write about yourself, however it’s through the guise of another. If possible, you would rather not be you.

There’s no need for all of that. At least your first instinct is no longer how best to end yourself. Progress is progress. All of that work into that same pained topic will only bring you fatigue. You can find other things. When looking for positives, you come up empty. There are options, there are places worth exploring. If you’re willing to deal with the bugs that surround you. But you fear their bite so you retaliate. You have been loved but will deny such a thing until sooner or later it becomes true and you are loved no longer. Then you bemoan the woes about how you were once loved by others. Who were they? And aren’t you loved still? When the closest thing to an end comes you claim there were good times to be had, but couldn’t name a single one. Even now there are moments you fail to notice which have brought joy and calm.

To the untrained eye there may be a gem hidden. You see a rock in need of polish and you refuse to wipe off the blemishes. By the time you try, they’ve become a stain. Everything looks the same because you don’t notice variances. Around you are people you see as pieces of clay. You want to shape them without putting any effort in. So you conclude that all you’ve done is caused them to harden and call it a day, moved on to the next one. But there’s only so many who will put up with such things. You want to be everything in a person and won’t settle for being a part as in that case, you think you may as well be nothing. You don’t notice the influence and impact you carry because if you can’t make them the way you want they may as well be strangers. When such a thing happens you act surprised and wonder what ever happened to those people you thought you saw. Those ones who you thought you could make bend over for you. Even when some did so, you didn’t appreciate the view. What you want is something intangible that you can’t sculpt. Whatever that thing is, you want to make visible. Even now some may wonder what the purpose for all this is. There isn’t really, it’s just an exercise. Being humble is hard enough as it is when the smallest bit of self-examination turns into a spiral of how much worse you can get.

There must be a better topic. Please do something more productive. You know there are things out there. Not everything has to depend on someone else. Other people don’t need so much weight put on them. Not even you need that, not when you can barely lift. Not everything is personal, or should be taken as such. Even when those words were used as a weapon against you and you sat in resentment until everyone else became that person. So did you, so did the world around you. Eventually you pointed such weapons at anyone close to you. They weren’t as hellish, nor were they holy. But finding a middle isn’t easy for you when red is the most profound color. Even if every word toward you and toward everyone else is a weapon to be held, that doesn’t mean you have to point it at yourself. There are other ways to harm yourself, anyway. Like feeding into those delusions or fixating on the unsavory memories of things you did in dark places.

There could have been many more things to pick apart at. Maybe for another day, when you’re in sound mind. Right now you need a rest, and after you wake, rest again. Your heart races too much when you let your thoughts run.

#writing #poem #poetry #self deprecation #humility #vent #catharsis #second person

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