#the hand holding crafts stuff is INSANE

[lesbianphan]

Dan and Phil should be the case study for the perfect balance between keeping a relationship private while simultaneously being very obviously in a relationship (without having to even say much) and someHOW getting their fanbase to go crazy at every little crumb of intimacy they serve us while keeping plausible deniability firmly in place.... they're WAY too smart about it and honestly? good for them! They truly made it!

[jesterguy]

Feeling Most Unwell

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I am genuinely so proud of my wife for becoming a crafts person over the last few years.

Like, I was always a crafts person. I was an arts and crafts kid. My parents sent me to classes or summer camps or after-school clubs pretty much continuously from when I was about 5 years old, and over the years I did metalsmithing, stained glass, polymer clay sculpting, loom weaving, oil painting, charcoal drawing, clothes-making & tailoring, carpentry, woodcarving, macrame, miniatures, beading, jewelry-making, basket weaving, leatherworking, paper-making, bookbinding, papier mache, decoupage, sand sculpting, and probably more that I'm forgetting. There was never a day in my life while I was growing up when my entire bedroom floor wasn't taken up by 2-5 different ongoing art projects. As an adult, it's given me the firm confidence that I can walk up to pretty much any crafting skill, and get the hang of it, and enjoy doing it.

My wife never had that. She wrote, but that was really her only artistic outlet. Art & craftsmanship were just not any of her business. She always expressed admiration for my gumption when it came to making things with my hands, usually with a "bigger idiots than me have done it" attitude, but she was certain she'd be bad at it if she tried it, and that she wouldn't have fun. As evidence, she would offer every time in her life when she had attempted to learn a craft, and didn't have fun, and all the Arts And Crafts kids picked it up a lot faster than her.

Which like - yeah! Learning how to do a new craft is a skill all on its own! Fine motor control is a skill developed over time! So is spatial reasoning, and materials intuition! She wasn't just 'trying to learn wreath-making,' or whatever, she was trying to learn how to learn how to make something with her hands AND wreath-making, at the same time, so of course it would take her longer than the kids who already had the first part, and of course it would be more frustrating for her. I knew she wasn't uniquely bad at crafts: she just didn't know how to approach picking them up, because she was never encouraged to learn.

And then the pandemic hit.

And while we were all trapped inside and going insane in new and exciting ways to all of us, she tentatively decided to pick up embroidery. She probably wouldn't stick with it, she explained: she'd probably be bad at it. It probably wouldn't be fun. But she thought embroidery was pretty, and literally what else did she have going on?

And then she did stick with it. For over a year. And she got pretty good at it! She embellished a baseball hat for her sister with cactuses and wildflowers from where they grew up which came out adorable. She made an embroidered portrait of one of our friends' cat that they still have displayed in their entryway. And she discovered - and remarked on it often, with mild surprise - that she was having fun. She'd say a lot of stuff like "this stitch was so frustrating at first, but now that I get it I really like doing it," or "I kept getting this tangled but I've figured it out now. I just needed to relax."

Then she took up pottery. We did that as a couple for about a year, too. Now she's a knitter.

And it's just been so great, to see her eyes light up when she sees a sweater she likes, and hear her say, "I could make that!" She's slowly let go of the perfectionism that I think holds a lot of people back from doing crafts: that dismay when you make a mistake which leads to discarding a whole project, or starting something over. More and more she's taking on the veteran crafter attitude of "oops lol, whatever I'll just keep going." She's picking things up faster. She's taking pleasure in learning incremental steps. She's started to see crafting as something that relaxes and engages her, instead of as something inherently frustrating. I've gotten to watch her learn to find joy in making something with her hands. I always knew she was creative and artistic and capable of learning how to do anything. It's been so much fun to watch her start to take that on as part of how she sees herself.

We have this running joke about how she will prematurely declare herself to be in an era. Like, she'll go swimming twice and announce that she's now in her "swimming era," and then never go swimming again. Or she'll make one smoothie, buy a bunch of fruit, and declare that we are now in a "smoothie era," and then a week later we have to throw out a bunch of fruit that's gone bad.

The other day (while she was knitting, and I was sitting on the couch next to her doing crochet), she went, "I feel like I've gotten - like, I'm a bit crafty these days, I think. Like, I've done a couple of different crafts, and gotten pretty good at them. I think this is now, kind of, you know...something that I can say that I do."

I supplied that I would even go so far as to say that she was in her "crafting era."

Her eyes widened. "It's an era?"

I pointed out that it was something she'd been doing pretty much continuously for the last three and a half years. That feels like the start of an era to me.

"Yes," she decided. "It's an era. This is my crafts era. I'm a crafts person now."

She's planning to make me a sweater with a duck on it for fall.

[glow-worms-are-believers]

I think we Khan do it if we try (dp x dc)

Danny’s well-deserved Sunday of rest was interrupted by the sound of their doorbell ringing throughout the house. With barely a mumble, Danny cracked an eye open, observed it was much too early to be awake, and burrowed back in the covers.

He was brutally ripped away from sleep once again when the stupid doorbell rang again. With a groan, Danny rolled to the side as his brain slowly started to churn again. And with it, he slowly remembered that both Jazz and their parents had said they’d be out for the morning, which meant he was the only one home.

The doorbell rang for the third time, and Danny gave up the idea of out-stubborning whoever was at the front door. Through much effort, he managed to drag himself to the front door, and slam the door open on two older teenager/young adults, with one of them his hand raised and poised to ring a fourth time, and the other holding onto the guy’s wrist. Both of them, their eyes wide in surprise.

“Who’s it?” Danny yawned out as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Is this the residence of Madeleine Walker?” One of the guys asked, while looking suspiciously around as if he wasn’t expecting a positive answer.

“Yeah. Who’re you,” Danny mumbled, as he fought to keep his eyes open. 

“I’m Bruce and I want to learn all that I can from Master Walker,” The other guy, with the darker hair said. 

“Doctor,” Danny corrected as he rubbed at his eyes, his brain feeling like it was working through molasses. “And it’s Fenton.”

The lighter haired guy took over smoothly with a smirk towards the other guy, who’s jaw tightened in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable. “Anton,” he introduced himself, “I’ve come to seek Dr. Fenton’s guidance as I have done with masters of the craft from all over the world.”

Danny squinted as he struggled to make sense of the string of words coming out of the guy’s mouth. “What, so you guys are, like, exchange students?”

The lighter-haired guy opened his mouth, only to be elbowed in the gut by the darker-haired dude, but Danny was too busy trying to remember if there had been any talk of an exchange student recently. He knew his parents had considered it and even applied, but the house hadn’t passed muster for the committee’s criteria, which fair enough. Maybe they’d reconsidered? Danny sighed. Whatever, it was too early for this.

“Alright,” the halfa said. The room his parents had set up was still ready and they had applied. It wouldn’t be too surprising if his parents had forgotten to inform Jazz and him of the newcomers, or just forgotten about them altogether. “Alright come in.”

“And don’t forget to take off your shoes,” Danny added as he led them into the house, “mom hates when we walk on the carpets with them on.”

With his back to the two man, Danny missed the alarmed look they gave each other. “Mom?” He could hear one of them whisper to themself.

Weeks later, Danny would come to regret that decision with every fiber of his being.

“Mo-om, the exchange students are fighting again!”

“Leave them be, Jazz,”

“But mom, they’re blocking the way to the bathroom!”

Danny clenched his eyes shut as he tried to stuff his ears harder. 

Still better than the time he’d caught them both half-naked and wrestling on their front lawn like a couple of insane people.

[suzukiblu]

thinking of fully-not-cryptid tim still being horny about kon making shinies, because both 1) incredibly cool display of scientific understand and superpowers and 2) kon clearly thinks that he would appreciate them, and he’s making them solely for that purpose, and that just does something for him

You may or may not be tapping into something I am trying to tap into with the actual fic version here, lol. In fact, have a lil' excerpt along those lines:

"I got you something else too," he says eagerly, jamming a hand into his jacket pocket and then pulling something shiny out of it and holding it out in offering. Tim takes it on reflex, which is a stupid reflex, but Superboy just looks so excitedly hopeful that he does it without thinking. It's a crystal-clear and faceted rock with an unmistakably heart-like shape to it, and it sparkles brightly in the late-night Gotham moonlight. It's not a particularly big rock, but it'd be a pretty damn big gemstone. Which–if Tim didn't know better, he'd think Superboy had just handed him a perfectly flawless fifty-carat diamond. But that would be insane, because a diamond this size and quality would be worth a good five million dollars, if not significantly more, and– "I made it," Superboy says, his face turning a little pinker than the cold night air up here should account for with a half-Kryptonian, even one whose full powerset allegedly isn't in yet. "Like, I mean, I sat in a volcano and crushed some carbon and cut it with my TTK so it'd look nice and then–I just thought maybe you'd like that kind of thing? Birds like shiny stuff, right? And like, you're kind of . . . bird-ish, right?" . . . okay then, Tim thinks as he stares blankly at the custom-cut, custom-crafted diamond in his clawed gauntlet. He has absolutely no idea how he feels about this situation. "Ishhhhh," he says, then sort of just . . . disappears five million dollars of "shiny stuff" into the tattered folds of his cape and inside his hidden utility belt, because Superboy seems really invested in him liking it and also he apparently literally made it, which Tim is just . . . gonna need a moment about, maybe. Superboy's only existed for five months, two weeks, and six days. Exactly how long does it take to learn how to telekinetically cut a diamond? Much less one this flawless? Like . . . percentage-wise, how much of his life so far did Superboy just spend on learning how to make him a fifty-carat heart-shaped diamond? Just . . . mathematically-speaking and all.

[chocsra]

"Eternal Damnation."

PM! dazai x fem! immortal reader

a/n: apolgies for my absence. i was planning to write but everytime i could something piled up 🙁. thank u to @cherylpoptarts for the sudden reqs which piqued my interest immensely. ill work on my pending requests another time. enjoy the angst.

summary: you, an ability user who is able to automatically heal has been alive for centuries, constantly avoiding death. in the midst of it all, you hire an assassination, not for anyone, but yourself.

content warnings: suicide, mercy killing, insanity, assisted suicide, angst, small oneshot/long drabble, pm! dazai, (i hate this sm)

Lukewarm.

A temperature that was not too cold or hot; tepid. Little enthusiasm or indifference.

Similar to the freezing snow cooling down your neck into your back during Japanese winters. Catching snowflakes in the heat of your palm did not melt the bitter cold engulfing your being. Lukewarm was your companion throughout the tedious years of this beautiful thing we call 'living'. Lukewarm is the only comfort you know of.

There was a cut that always bled, never fully healed, the scab that you reckon to always pick off. Lukewarm water would wash over your scabbed wounds, into your eyes, and swallow you whole. You'd watch your loved ones become engulfed in a scorching heat, the bubbling fire scraping and tearing over old, bitter skin.

You'd run your fingers over the freshly new skin and everlastingly massaged joints. You never became old. You never felt hurt. You never were hurt—for long of course. For healing was your salvation, your ability, your gift—your curse.

"Winter is over soon,"

you muttered softly, the melancholic rebirth of nature prospecting over the misty blankets of snow surrounding you. Spring. The season when flower seedlings, trapped beneath infertile soil, reawaken and sprout; revelling in rich petals and leaves, calmly drifting in the cool breeze. You've seen it one too many times; 134—to be exact.

"And that's your reason?"

Your eyelids never falter your solemn, sad look. Continue to stuff your hands deep in your pockets to escape the cooling air, huffing out as you also fidget with the origami you've been toying with. "I'm not sure what you mean," you reply, eyes gazing over to the melting body of water, a local river as you stand over its bridge. For it was a beautiful sight, nature did this annual thing called grow—rebirth, if you may. And as many others hated the cold breeze that nature gifted, somehow, you basked in it. —"You want me to kill you because winter's over soon."

...

Right, you forgot the predicament you were in. Merciful. Yearning. Bright. Though the man beside you excluded the exact opposite of those adjectives, you cannot help but feel this funny thing called desperation—besides, you've heard it all, no 'youngest mafia executive' is truly evil. To you, he is only just a boy, a foolish boy. "I have lots of riches. You can even take my house, it's not dirty money."

"I see,"

A harsh breeze of wind swiftly picked up the origami that you were crafting from your hands, reaching out to grab the piece—a cold hand catches it and holds the folded paper in front of you, extending his hand. "you forget that you can't approach mafiosos on the street pleading for suicide, y'know? That sort of desperation is seen as dirty."

On the surface level, his words seemed like an insult; it was utterly offensive to refer to a person's actions as filthy. However, there wasn't any hint of insult in his voice—he even seemed amused. He, was a young man wrapped around in a beige scarf and black trenchcoat engulfing his entire body; he, was practically swimming in it. He, had brown wavy locks that framed his face. He, for some odd reason, was covered in bandages. —not the gauze you'd find wrapping around wounds, one similar to a mummy. And he, who looked like he lacked self-care, though you would be able to take in his pleasant features.

"Am I pleading?—" You snatch the origami away from his hand, "It's more like a deal. Consider it a paid assassination." the brunette merely scoffs, light air huffing out of his lips as he stuffs his hand back into his pocket. "Our conduct doesn't consist of mercy killing or assisted suicide," the man chuckles, peering along the barely frozen body of water. "nor unarranged business deals. But I'd like to know one thing,"

You lift your gaze meeting his in curiosity, taking in the soft features of his face, yet he brimmed with impurity. The slopes of his cheeks were so slim, and that followed through his lanky frame - a face that didn't seem boyish at all. Merciful. Yearning. Bright. He screamed an antonym of those words —Cruel. Repulsed. Dark.

"Why is it you want to die?" he asks, watching intricately as you brush your thumb continually over the origami you were making: a crafted swan. The brunette seemed rather impressed, watching - your skills seem exactly like traditional art of origamis: something he'd see in an old painting or lost crafts book. Swans - which symbolised eternal love, you seemed anything but loving. Maybe, it had just been eternal. An eternity without love.

"My journey started with helping others live. But once you start taking the breath of living for granted, it becomes the very reason you wish to die. I. suppose I've met my limit with that. With living." you reminisce the past, the melancholic nights under blankets under the same winter—the spring, autumn, or summer. In the blessing of longevity, there was a problem; for what you've gained, there was also lost. Death of others—an eternity without love was your reality. Your resentful condemnation.

"I understand."

At this moment, the mafioso didn't seem so cruel; it was almost sympathetic, you'd think as he gazes over the river. "I've never understood the purpose of living if that makes you feel any better."

...

"You're not very good at comforting, are you?" an unexpected chuckle escaped his lips, "I'd at least expect an immortal to be a nihilist." you remotely scoff at his revelation. "Stupid. There's a reason why I want to die, I understand the meaning of living." the brunette rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. "Well, I don't understand the meaning of living hence why I want to die."

You chuckle, "For a mafioso, you are sassy."

"For a beauty, you are quite rude." He smiles indifferently.

It's almost funny, actually. How casual that conversation was.

Engulfed in the flames of this beautiful thing we call living, you finally obtain that sweet release of death the moment you intertwine fingers with a young mafioso—one who reeked of death.

The flames that engulfed you were lukewarm, but he was different. He was warm, almost scorching. Scorching an angelic heat that cascaded into the palms of your hand all the way to your shoulders and neck. The feeling was deftly abstract, and you basked in it; the way he'd hold you so close, run bandaged hands over the slope of your cheeks, whisper untangible nothings near the shell of your ear.

"Death is the absence of life, the desire I've been longing to taste since adolescence."

Mist and smoke fill around the room, almost making you feel dizzy. There were a lot of turbulent emotions circulating through your brain. First, you were relieved. You've been insensitive to death for a while, the times you did cry for someone—it was out of relief. The sweet relief that that one person would not have to suffer. You suppose it was the same for yourself. You would meet your demise in the arms of a fallen angel. Fall into the fiery pits of hell, or be welcomed by heaven's gate through a smoky embrace of whiskey and canned crab.

"I'm a bit envious of you, actually," Dazai murmurs, his thumb which was once connected to a trigger, soothingly rubbing your skin. "you'll meet this desire before me." you often wonder, what was the man's infatuation with death? He was in the mafia from a young age, he must've been associated with all forms of death. Ranging from a loved one withering away, to open guts and blood-stained lips. The absence of life can be seen through the empty carcass of one's body, the glint of vitality in their eyes disappearing.

Dazai Osamu was unique. In fact, he never had that glint in his eyes. His carcass was handsome, he was the product of love and passion. However, the eyes—his eyes, which were the window of the soul, were a dark void, abyssal, vantablack. He was unreadable. The brunette's experiences, his beliefs, his spiritual grounding. Dazai Osamu yearned for death, but for what he learned as just a boy, he did not meet death—but became it.

You had a connection. The special origami of a swan—meaning eternal love. He wanted eternal, you wanted love. In the end, none of you were happy. And so, he'll give you peace, and you'll give him understanding. The carcass you're going to become is much different from a being he merely murdered. Dazai moves a hand from interlocking with yours, to cup both of your cheeks. Warm and rosy cheeks.

"I'm sorry,"

He had fluttered his eyes shut and leaned his forehead on your temple. Despite the burning fire ignited by the candle of his flesh alone, his warm and shallow breaths gave you a balmy breather from this feeling called lukewarm.

Crack.

Lukewarm. 

"I see you got what you wanted, huh?"

You stood atop a bridge from frozen water with a black scarf snuggled tightly around your neck.

A brunette man averted his gaze to you with a confused stare. The gape of which was rather familiar, one that excluded a slight glint of vitality, but other than that, abyssal. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

He adjusted the bandage on his finger, in which you assumed he cut his finger on something. "Nope. But I made an extra origami, do you want one?"

Silence. "..Sure."

The mysterious man picked up the crafted paper with suspicion. His gaze softens as he sees a professionally crafted swan. "I feel like we've met before—actually, I'm sure of it."

"Not too sure about that."

chocsra™

[littledata]

I know you’re probably working on those prompts, but I, too, just ended up on North Sea tiktok, and if you have time, I’m curious what Ava’s reaction to that particular algorithmic destination would be. Because like, Bea’s the most capable person ever, but those waves are Very Big, and why isn’t everyone tethered to the boat at all times??

(From the on that dizzy edge universe. An example video if anyone would like context.)

For a long time, Ava's TikTok experience was predictable. It mostly went: hot girl biting her lip, hot girl playing guitar, hot dude baking a cake, weirdly mesmerising crafting video, drama about people she'd never met, hot person kissing another hot person.

The number of straight-up thirst traps has been on the decline recently though - mostly because Ava just has to turn her head and Bea will be changing her shirt or using a hammer or standing perfectly still, all of which is a lot hotter than any video she's ever seen. In its infinite wisdom though, The Algorithm has seen her scrolling past those videos and decided it needs to fill the void with something else.

That thing, apparently, is North Sea TikTok.

They're lying in bed when it happens for the first time. Beatrice had spent the first few weeks after she came home insisting they should try to maintain separate bedrooms, move their relationship along at an orderly and appropriate pace, but she pretty quickly gave in to the allure of spooning and her bedroom defaulted to being both of theirs.

Now, before they go to sleep, they often end up lying side by side while Beatrice reads one of her insane books about lesbian necromancers or whatever and Ava scrolls TikTok or reads fanfiction about hot people falling in love in coffee shops and stuff. It makes her feel mature and settled and safe in a way that's sometimes so exciting she has to take Bea's book out of her hands and make out with her about it.

Anyway, so they're doing that (lying in bed, not making out) when it shows up on her for you page. It starts with the weird, slow sea shanty, then there's the huge waves, and then someone is getting slammed in the face with the fucking ocean.

Ava lets it loop. Then she lets it loop again. Then she taps on the suggested search north sea tiktok and she's presented with a thousand more videos exactly like the first. People falling overboard and huge waves crashing over ships and and and -

"Bea." Ava taps her arm insistently.

Bea looks up from her book without much concern - she doesn't use TikTok but she does submit to being shown Ava's curated favourites. Also, she's wearing glasses and she looks super cute.

No, Ava, don't get distracted.

"Bea," she repeats and holds her phone up to her face.

Beatrice watches with a scrutinising gaze. When the video finishes, she says, "They really shouldn't be filming in those situations, it's distracting them from proper safety precautions."

Ava stares at her. "That's all you have to say? They could have died."

"Possibly," Beatrice agrees. "Once someone falls overboard it's very difficult to recover them, although certainly not impossible. And it depends a lot on the kind of ship. I assume someone wouldn't post a video where someone died though."

Although Beatrice's naivety about what people are willing to post on the internet is adorable, Ava's mind is stuck somewhere in between the words overboard and impossible. Even Beatrice, careful and capable as she is, couldn't keep herself from being swept off her feet by some of those waves. Ava can picture her so vividly, disappearing under the surface.

"You're not making me feel better about this."

"Oh." Beatrice blinks in surprise as if she has only just realised that they aren't having a purely practical discussion. She puts her book carefully down on the nightstand. "I'm not sure what to say. I can't lie to you and pretend it isn't dangerous. Those are cherry-picked clips showing the worst though, it isn't always like that."

Which, yeah, okay, Ava already knew it was dangerous. For all the months that Beatrice is away she lives with the low-level, prickling anxiety that the next call she gets will be telling her Bea is hurt, or worse. It's different seeing it though, seeing how quick it is, how powerful -

"How often are you in the north sea?" she asks, as if that's the only problem with it.

Beatrice winces, "Well, it depends. The contracts I work - " She explains something complicated and lengthy about shipping and demand and the company she works for and Ava thinks she's the most interesting person in the world but this stuff is, also, a little bit boring and she's still pretty busy picturing her girlfriend's imminent death.

She needs to send these videos to Camila. If there's anyone she can rely on to overreact with her, it's Camila.

"Ava," Beatrice says, seeing that she's lost her. She tugs Ava's phone gently from her hands and puts it down next to her book. Then she wraps one arm around Ava's shoulders and the other around her waist and pulls her in close.

Ava has always loved being hugged by Bea, even before they got together - she's strong and solid and lets Ava hold on for as long as she needs to. (Also, she smells fucking amazing, like, all the time).

It wasn't until they started dating that she realised Beatrice had been holding something of herself back though, not letting herself relax entirely whenever they touched. Now, it's as if her whole body sinks into it, like some tension evaporates the moment Ava's arms are around her.

Ava pushes her face into Beatrice's chest and inhales, lets herself hide there in the fabric of her shirt for a moment. It's dark and warm and hard to worry about anything.

"I promise I do everything I possibly can to come home safe to you," Beatrice says into her ear, "I'm sorry I can't give you any more reassurance than that."

"Okay," Ava says, voice muffled against Beatrice's chest. It's not enough but it has to be enough. This is Bea's job, the thing she loves more than anything else, and Ava won't ever touch the sanctity of that. "I'm still going to worry about you."

"I know." Beatrice presses a kiss into her hair and pulls back, "I worry about you too though, when I'm gone."

Ava rolls her eyes, "The most dangerous thing that could happen to me is Lilith finally snapping and turning on everyone she loves."

"So fairly likely then?" Beatrice asks.

Ava snorts, "Like a 90% chance."

They settle themselves to go to sleep, lying down fully and adjusting the pillows and blankets. That's another thing Ava learned recently: Beatrice - her big, tough sailor - likes being the little spoon. She won't admit to that, obviously, but she sighs contentedly whenever Ava wraps her arms around her from behind.

So when Beatrice reaches up to switch the lamp off, Ava does just that, presses herself against Bea's back. She listens to Beatrice's breathing become slow and even, and she clings on.

[sugar-omi]

Sending more Rockstar!Cove love! Need some spicy stuff in here though.

Please knock before entering his dressing room or trailer. Everyone knows that by now. Barging in there will cause you to see stuff you do not want to see.

He's not afraid to post more private stuff about his love life on his socials. Do you think he's going to just stop what he's doing because someone "urgently" needed him?

(He's about to be late and has absolutely no sense of time at all anymore.)

-🎸

YES! YES YES YES!!!! everyone sees the shit he posts of you/your relationship online. everything from romantic to more or less erotic.

so really, the staff on the set should know not to be careless when you're on the set as well. because cove is diligent and kind when he's working. he loves what he does, and he's not the typical big headed rockstar he presents as.

he's serious, dedicated to his craft.. a little rough, sure, very reserved and otherwise quiet unless he's commanding the scene.

but he's also dedicated to you. the whole world is convinced that he would drop music if you asked him to, that's how much he loves you.

really, the amount of times someone on set has walked in on cove going down on you is insane.

he does his due diligence by closing the door or finding a "secluded" place. they just need to do their part by not busting in, walking by, or opening the wrong curtain, is that so hard?

his manager can lecture him all he wants about public indecency. I mean, was it really indecent though? he was in his dressing room when he had you bent over the vanity, not the public bathroom. it's not his fault the mua's new assistant walked in for... whatever her reason was again.

and when he has to record a new song, his fans eagerly waiting the tease of a new album, well he has to take care of his beloved first.

making sure you're fat n happy is his number one priority. always making sure your material needs are met, your necessities. you have more cars and houses in your name than the two of you will ever need, and more money in your account than you could spend even if you used it to blow your nose.

and with all that met... that just leaves cove to love you up, kiss you and hold you, and spoil you with his time, affection, and gifts. and sexually.

he's been so busy preparing for the new album, he hasn't had nearly enough time to spend with you. and you're so needy today, your body pressed against his, gently waking him up from his sleep by rubbing on his body, kissing him gentle and whispering in his ear pleads to wake up and fuck you...

so yeah, when he picks up the phone, of course the producer is gonna hear the bed creak, and of course, he can hear the breathlessness and the gravel in cove's voice as he fucks you through the alaskan king mattress.

and of course, he hands up on him! the song can wait. it's been written for months, so instead of breathing down his neck, why don't they fix the tempo like he told them to, and he'll be in as soon as you cum around his dick two or three more times, maybe even more if anyone else blows up his phone.

so okay. maybe cove does tap into the typical rockstar assholery, but it's not his fault. his baby needs to be pleased whenever they want, and he certainly can't keep his hands off you as it is, let alone when he's been busy with work.

he'll try to keep the indecency down to a reasonable level (his manager screamed at that), but only if everyone remembers to be a little mindful of their ears and eyes if they don't want to see or hear you two reach heaven together.~

[torchstelechos]

sorry to be deranged about loop and siffrin in your inbox but that loop song has me thinking about a world where Siffrin loses that fight and Loop actually goes through with it. imagine how it'd be for the rest of the party

you go through all that weird stuff at the start of the day. siffrin randomly becoming hypermean and fucked up to everyone for no reason. running off alone. 1v1000ing the entire House like a living whirlwind. 1v1ing the king.

a star shows up and starts yelling about timeloops and wishcraft. Odile has to create a new craft on the go to handle that while everyone fights through a reality broken House after Siffrin (they had to bust down the doors??? the doors they usually can't go through??? since they would of closed behind Siffrin)

you save Siffrin, you find out they've nearly killed themselves with their craft insanity, then All That Stuff happens with Bigfrin. it all works out. you resolve your issues

and then your friend gets fucking gutted by the star that helped you in the first place trying to take his place the literal minute you lose track of him again, literal minutes after

like.

goodness. what does literally anybody even do or think here.

Oooouuuggghhh yeah it's soooo fucked up!! Especially if Loop tries to justify it because... That's not Siffrin anymore? Even if Siffrin was acting different that morning and was going through hell, Siffrin was still kind and never harmed anyone else if they could help it. Then the Star who helped you AND Siffrin to the point of it being detrimental to the Star goes and kills your friend. Your family member. Because they were Siffrin once, and they want to be Siffrin again, but they changed too much and tried to force a change on Siffrin which wrought only destruction, killing the chance that Siffrin and Loop had of being healed and helped. They could have had it all, they could have had a family again but they destroyed it. With their own two hands.... again, and again, and again.

If we were to discuss the characters though... Odile would try to kill Loop without hesitation. She already attacked Siffrin when from her perspective he was only maaaybe a danger to the party. If she realized someone had killed her friend, gutted them on the offchance they could take their place? Her family member? They would be dead before they could even say a word.

Isabeau... I don't think he would hesitate either. Not after almost losing Siffrin and being called a coward by him, only to then lose him immediately after you resolved to no longer hold back from him? Isabeau would go for the throat. But it would happen after wailing and screaming and denial. We already saw how he'd reacted to Bonnie...

Mirabelle would try to revive Siffrin before realizing they were dead long before she could have done anything. The person who gave the most to the journey, the one she thought didn't care, the one who was rude and mean and kind and caring and scared. So scared. Died alone? After she just promised to be feeling buddies with them? I think she would shatter over this, she already had so many issues with forcing everyone into something they didn't want to do, only to find one dead at the hands of someone she had trusted to be kind to them? She would also go for the throat.

Bonnie. Bonnie.... Bonnie would scream, would cry, would rage, would despair... This is the reaction that would break Loop. Because I think Bonnie would look at them and call them a monster.

There is no coming back, there is no redo, there is no second try. Only going forward with the decision you made that ruined your family and yourself. You cannot die, but yet... You cannot live either. Do you make another wish? Do you go back? Do you help another Siffrin? Do you try again?

[downtherabbitholethatisanime]

It's 4am and too hot to sleep so you know what that means?? Time to do MATH :D

In ascendance of a bookworm they mention the price of a lot of things and the mention of 'silver coins' or 'gold coins' makes it sound like a lot right there and from the reactions of everyone else around myne it's clear she's spending alot. But I have absolutely no clue how shocked I'm supposed to be cause myne herself doesn't seem to have any problem with throwing money at things she wants. Leise, Fridas chef, actually comments on it in the side chapters of the LNs saying that a poor girl suddenly coming into a lot of money all at once has clearly skewed her sense of money.

So I'm gonna do a very simple conversion just to make the math easier

10 lions=10 cents

Small copper=10 lions=$0.10

Middle copper=100 lions=$1.00

Large copper=1,000 lions=$10.00

Small silver=10,000 lions=$100.00

Large silver=100,000 lions=$1,000.00

Small gold=1,000,000 lions=$10,000.00

Large gold=10,000,000 lions=$100,000.00

So $0.30 for some fruit at a market. Giving a 6 year old a couple dollars as thank for walking your daughter home.

After that it falls apart a bit. Tulli and mynes mom are really excited to be making $2 a hairclip to the point of pulling all nighters. Then again in the light novel myne also shows a lot of surprise that they're so excited over making so little. She has to rationalize with herself that in Japan small crafts like bracelets were sold for 100 yen and she later finds out that the baskets they made the year before likely paid only a couple small copper on top of the families having to provide their own materials.

Someone correct me if I'm wrong on this cause I'm too lazy to try to find the chapter but Ralph working part time as an apprentice brings home about 8 large copper a month. Or 80$. He's a child only working 3 out of 7 days a week so let's say people who just sign on to be full time (can't remember the term) make double as newly signed apprentices to keep math easy. That's 320$ a month

They're poor and they're not affected by late stage capitalism so this math is still fine especially since it's normal to have several working people

Lutz states later that he feels weird saving money when the most any poor commoner saves is stashing loose copper around the house for winter prep. So 5-10$ stashed here and there as emergency money.

Benno offers myne 2 small gold for the rinsham recipe as a way to help myne save for her devouring. She raises it to 3 and benno, a rich store owner, is incapable of going higher. With this conversion he offered 20,000$ and agreed to 30,000$. Given the circumstances the conversion still holds pretty well

Apprentice outfits for Lutz and myne are either 8 or 11 small silver I can't remember. So between 800 and 1,100$ for hand stitched work clothes for a high end store. Which means it has to be made with higher quality materials and made to order.

So when myne offers a large gold to enter the temple she's offering $100,000. It's no wonder everyone was shocked

Slight spoilers

I'm pretty sure the reward for helping Angelica pass her classes was a small gold for Damuel and Bridgette and a recipe for Cornelius. Thats 10,000$, enough to make a poor lay noble like Damuel weep tears of joy cause he can finally pay off a debt.

She tells the other dutchys she spent 18 LARGE gold on making a book of another dutchys history. She spent $1,800,000 on materials for a hobby (of course it was less for her since she made the stuff in her own workshop but no one else knows that and shes not about to explain it)

This girl is absolutely insane with money no wonder everyone is speechless

Someone add more examples cause thinking it out like this is actually so funny

[itzzaira]

Hey! This is TMNT: Children of the Sky Mikey and Leo from Cabin 16 with a survey: who's the most artistic member of your AU/iteration's family?

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

Mikey smiled brightly. None of his brothers were around right now- Michelangelo and Leo had been driving Raphael insane while Donnie and Raph slept. He had no idea where Donatello had gone-

And Mikey had been the first person to hear they would be holding a craft fair.

A.

Craft.

Fair.

He had only woken up a couple days ago and this was the absolute best thing he could wake up to!! Well, other than Leo being alive- that had been a tad bit nicer.

Right now, he was looking at this mini-version of himself and his brothers- so tiny!! So adorable! And they looked so cool!!! -and the box turtle couldn't help but notice that none of his counterparts had stickers. Ohhh he should make stickers during the fair and give them to all versions of himself! Because he was nice like that.

"Hey! We're taking a survey! Who's your most artistic family member?"

"Come on, there's gotta be other artistic Leo's right?"

Well. If the destruction Leo could cause in a kitchen counted, consider him the biggest artist of all. But alas.

Mikey hated to disappoint this tiny version of his brother, but not his fault Leo just didn't have it. He smiled sweetly, holding out his hand. "Well-"

-only for the limb to immediately cramp up, muscle freezing and spasming, his fingers getting stuck in that position and ow-

"Ow!" He hissed, immediately pulling his back to squeeze it with his (thankfully pain-free) other hand. He saw the concerned expressions on the other turtles, but smiled anyway. "I'm fine, this is fine-"

Was it?

This was new.

Granted, the mystic scars were new altogether, and they had ached, that was true. But the random pain as soon as he moved his hand was new.

He tried to flex his fingers- nope, fingers didn't respond.

He tried to move his arm- nuh-uh, hurt, ow ow ow-

He couldn't- his hand was stuck.

Slowly, the pain faded away. Mikey opened his eyes that he had apparently closed, then slowly, carefully, let go of his arm. It still tingled, but it didn't hurt anymore. That was... odd.

"Are you okay?" The other Mikey asked again, relaxing and smiling again once they saw the pain fading away- this time, however, the box turtle didn't smile. He looked confused.

Surely, if something was wrong with his hands, Donnie would have found it by now?

Like, okay, he thought, as he held his arm a bit closer to his face. He couldn't move his fingers still. The muscles were cramped, and it bothered him, and his hands were hard to use sometimes, that is true- but he was still the artist of the family! That was his thing! Even if his hands hurt, and they cramped up, and wouldn't... move...

No!

Okay, sure, he hadn't exactly drawn ever since he woke up from his coma, but talent doesn't just disappear!

Who needs hands to draw anyway?! Mikey didn't! He just struggled to hold stuff, dropped items all the time and couldn't touch anyone other then his brothers or else it hurt! That wouldn’t stop...

...

A look of horror appeared on his face as the realization sunk in.

You need working hands to make art.

Currently, Mikey's hands shook so much that he hadn't even been able to hold his own cup so he could have a drink. It had taken him three tries back home before he had been able to grab a spoon to eat ice cream, only to immediately drop it afterward. He didn't even want to imagine the chaos of holding paints would cause.

He... wouldn’t be able to draw anymore? The one thing he was good at? He wouldn’t be able to do anything anymore?!

As if failing to open the portal- twice- wasn't enough! He fails to open a portal, he had help from Donnie and Raph and still couldn't keep it open. He isn't smart, he's not quiet, he's definitely not the best ninja and most certainly wasn't the leader-

He cooked. He made art. That was the one thing he was good for.

Mikey's breath hitched. In cold horror, he stared at his bandaged hands.

His shaking, ugly, useless hands.

What good was he for if he couldn't make art?

Well. The answer was simple. He wasn't. Just lime how he couldn't protect Leo, or Raph, or Donnie- not to mention, his stupid hands caused this pain to his family.

His hands were the reason Michelangelo and Donatello had burnwounds.

His hands were the reason Leonardo cracked his shell open getting thrown against a wall.

His hands were the reason the Purple Dragons were even able to hurt them so bad.

His hands were the reason they lost Raph and caused him to go savage-

His hands were the reason Leo was lost.

His ears rang.

Ever since he was little 'But at least I can do art' he had told himself. 'I may not be smart, or strong, but I can cook. I can make art. That's my talent. No one else's. Mine.'

...But it wasn't his talent anymore, was it?

"Mikey?" He snapped out of it when the other Leo called his name- ohh the kids looked terrified. Crap. Oh no. "Are you okay?"

"Raph." He answered quickly, the haunted look on his face disappearing, trying to look happy again as he lowered his arms, unable to meet their gaze. "Uhm- not my Raph. Raphael. The angry box turtle with a crack in his carapace. He's the most artistic family member." Because Mikey sure as heck wasn't. Not anymore.

"Is something-"

"I gotta go." He didn't want to scare these kids any more than he already had, so Mikey smiled as brightly as he could manage, turned around, heart pounding as he tried to run- but stumbled instead, as fast as he could, away from there.

He shouldn't bring his stupid hands and ruin the craft fair.

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

[lesbianphan]

Sacrifice (painted in the red from our hearts)

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Crafts universe Phan (Crafts! Dan Howel/ Crafts! Phil Lester)

Warnings: Disturbing content, gore, violence, major character death, implied abusive relationship, cult stuff, reference to cannibalism, violence

A/N: thank you to my bestest bestie @femslashy for not only listening to my insane Phan rambles even though she doesn't go here anymore, but also being my beta and getting invested in this project after reading it. All remaining mistakes are mine trying to mess with stuff lol

Summary:

"There's no fear in my lover's eyes, only trust in Him. Trust in me. I know what I must do: the ultimate sacrifice for Him. I must give Him what I hold most dear, the one thing I'd never part from. I must hold Philip's heart in my hands and offer Him what my lover willingly gave to me all these years ago.

If I love Him enough, my lover will come back to me. Reborn."

a.k.a the dark and raw 'DanandPhilCRAFTS - Slime' fic I was always meant to write.

Read it on AO3

[moon-language-0]

10 Questions for Writers

wasn't gonna do this bc i thought nobody probably really cares about this stuff but since i got double tagged by @meidui and @sunnysideprincess here goes nothing:

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

32 and climbing!

2. what’s your total AO3 word count?

ugh i had to go into my stats to find this number (hate looking at stats) but to my surprise that number is a whopping 816,828! (if added to my ff.net word count that figure grows to 1,062,375 🤯)

3. what fandoms do you write for?

stony exclusively, though i opened up to the idea of writing for steve and/or tony paired with any mcu villain for marvel trumps hate, and now i'm writing a steve/loki (with steve/tony as endgame) fic that's more fun than i would've anticipated! (x) still wouldn't call myself a "multishipper," though -- more of a serial shipping monogamist ;)

4. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i do! sometimes i'm a bit slow to respond for various reasons (e.g. when people angels comment on my WIPs i like to reply when/right before a new chapter drops), and on a few occasions i've belatedly encountered comments that i forgot to reply to (😱) that i'll immediately rectify, but i very much want to encourage people to keep leaving them. a single comment—even short/sweet ones!—can be like rocket fuel to my creative drive -- and as someone who finds myself running on empty and trying to get by solely on fumes from time to time, getting that boost in my inbox is truly priceless.

5. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not in whole but in part :(

6. have you ever co-written a fic before?

i don't even know how that would work!

7. what’s your all-time favorite ship?

currently steve/tony. once upon a time it was spock/kirk, and the flame burned so brightly that it troubles me to wonder how it ever managed to go out. i collected vintage zines. i made insanely thoughtful fanmixes (one of which i recorded onto cassette tapes one-at-a-time by hand through a painstaking process and distributed to a few like-minded folks, with hand-drawn cover art and liner notes!). i read AMAZING fic that changed my brain and yet i never wrote a single thing! i made a secret spacehusbands clubhouse underneath a pool table during one long and otherwise unhappy summer. i even made spirk-themed patches and pins that sold quite well on etsy, and turned one of my large back pieces into the central design of a fully decked-out jacket (which was made specifically to wear while loitering around disneyland while baked). here's some photographic evidence of all of the above:

8. what are your writing strengths?

smut-crafting is the obvious answer, but i flatter myself to think that i also manage to tap into a particular kind of haunted beauty that hovers about, casting its ethereal moon-shadow over all the most poignant relationships; something i've been obsessed with in life, that i'm compelled to pursue further in writing.

9. what are your writing weaknesses?

keeping it short. my punctuation can get pretty erratic sometimes. also, this might be a cop-out of an answer since it can be interpreted as a 'strength' but it really can throw me for a loop: i tend to let the characters tell the story 'they' want to tell rather than keeping a tight hold on the reins and sticking to my own agenda -- this can lead me off my intended course, for better or worse! as a storyteller i'm a bit of a pushover—always open to sudden inspiration wherever it might issue from—and steve and tony are such *strong* personalities that this openness can be a problem when i 'channel' them.

10. first fandom you wrote for?

harry potter. i was a bit of a snapewife for awhile there (don't judge). ff.net has been having some server issues so i recently logged back on to download my 245k unfinished epic from 2012, and found over a thousand people had left comments! some people were calling it a "masterpiece" and/or "the best fic [they] ever read [for that pairing]" which made me doubtful, so i skimmed over some of the story expecting it to be cringey but uhhh... it actually holds up? i mean, 2011/12 was quite a time for me: i was simultaneously finishing my thesis on "fandom, fanaticism, and religious fervor" and can recall having full-on religious experiences of my own while writing that [truly 'inspired'] fic, so i guess i was onto something after all!

some of these folks have already been tagged but i'm whispering a soft 'hello' into the ears of @carsonian, @soliloquent-stark, @pia-bartolini, @avengersnewb, @tinystark616 & all writers who aren't as averse to mirror-gazing as i can be

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Im so normal about this man I swear

vampire spawn!tav x astarion

rated: m (just to be safe tbh)

mostly this all inspired by dnd vampire spawn character sheets and vtm vampire stuff

It is rare but not unheard of for the hunger, the cost of eternity binding all vampires, turns some into feral beasts. Some become mindless-- Most become mindless thralls used like cannon fodder-- But some embrace it. When the hunger becomes too much, when you are near the brink of death, when threatened into a corner: the beast comes out. A roaring lion lurking in the shadows with claws out and teeth bared, he has to admit that part of you had unnerved him. Feral beasts are not so easily controlled, especially when he was not the one who turned you.

But he found a way to slip a collar on you.

When the beast becomes too much when you slaughtered the goblins in the Blighted Village. Climbing on walls, claws ripping into foul flesh, when fangs are used to only tear apart throats. You were in a dazy, the state of in-between sanity and hunger-driven insanity.

He brought you back, with that charming smile and sweet poisonous voice-- You fear he has you ensnared as your master has. He was-- is-- Handsome and you easily fell for the gentleman who showed interest in you. Small village, a person who wanted to fly out of the nest, and a fancy-dressed man who promised to show the world if you trusted him. You trusted him like you trust the vampire who smiles like an actor performing in the show of his life. Maybe, no, he is doing just that.

Back at camp, you praise the Gods no one saw you. You had bathed, skin still raw from the scrubbing and smell of citrus from the bath oil you crafted. The armor is a mess for the blood but that is not unusual. You pray the blood either dries and flakes off or is washed off by the rain at some point. Returning to camp in your campsite clothes with the white-haired rogue who plays it off as ‘friendly chat’ does not make you happy. The only friend of sorts is Shadowheart. Maybe because you respected her beliefs and she respected you in return, who knows, you just know you need to seek her out. A follower of Shar is comforting when she talks about the teachings of loss… To let go.

Darkness and loss go hand in hand.

There is a nudge in your mind, a soft nudge as you smile and brush off the worry in Wyll’s voice.

You know his touch in your mind, the way it brushes against you like the way the hands of a lover subtlety hint for the other to find them later.

Only he is not your lover and if you were mean-spirited, you would call him your blood donor.

Instead, you are grateful to him and you let him slip into your mind. A whisper, a hit of concern, and an excuse for you to make later.

Later comes too soon.

“I don’t know. It sometimes just happens.” He is not happy, he thinks you are trying to starve yourself because of guilt. “I was one moment walking and then…”

You show him, bare yourself for judgment. When you go back to kick your feet slowly in the river with the kindred beside you carefully sitting close but not too close to the river to get wet. When the memory shared ends with seeing him holding your face he sighs.

“I am no teacher,” Throwing his hands in the air, “Honestly, most would be rampaging and be killed by a hunter.” You frown upon hearing those words. When will you go too far? When will Wyll have to turn his blade to you? “There has to be--”

“I’m scared.”

Those red eyes fall to you, slightly wide open not expecting you to outright say something so vulnerable. The silence that follows is one from shock, Astarion lying on the ground staring up at the night sky with too many stars for his liking. His hand folded over his stomach.

“We will figure this out.” He needs you on his side, better to be in pairs than in a pack against him, or you because they will not just stop at you. “Trust me.” Being kind is odd and you laugh so softly the sound of the river nearly drowns it out. Turning your head in his direction next to you, a pat of your hand on his hand.

“Of course, as far as you want.”

[costumesexpalined]

First things first, basic materials for basically any cosplay.

No need for sewing machines or even embroidery hoops, they’re pretty new in the grand scheme of things and people made insane stuff without them for millenia after all.

(I actually recommend learning hand sewing FIRST, it lets you learn how to fix your stuff in a pinch and is way easier to get into. It’s slower, sure, but it also lets you make finer, more consistent seams and if you have sensory issues tied to sound it’s FAR less likely to set you off. Plus, it’s calming and frankly impresses the hell out of people at competitions and the like and some groups (like re-enactments) do not count machine made things at all in their competitions and standards.)

All you need to sew clothing is a needle, thread, scissors, a measuring tape, a pencil and sharpener or chalk to mark things in a washable way, fabric and time.

If you aren’t totally confident in being able to track seams or keep them even, straight pins or clips helps hold stuff together. You also want these if you don’t want to transfer a pattern from paper to the fabric with drawn lines, but that’s also not exactly needed since I go off the base shapes and measurements. If you aren’t confident with holding material extremely taught while you work on embroidery or bead work and the like, a good embroidery hoop can be found second hand for pretty cheap and you can usually find a really good one for under $10 usd at a craft store with an embroidery section (with $10 being a MASSIVE one, I recommend getting a 6 inch or less unless your doing something at a standing one, which is overkill most of the time).

I’ll explain how to use the materials later, but everyone has trouble with fabric and I’ve had people balk at the cost before, so here’s where to start (or if your on a tight budget)

- broadcloth: cheap cotton, comes in a whole array of solid colors and a staple of cosplay. Be sure to make certain you don���t make something too tight with this, it isn’t the best at holding up to extreme strain. Typically about $5 usd a yard… full price.

- quilting cotton: slightly more enxpensive and usually patterned in some way broadcloth. If you go to a fabric store they will have TONS of this. Averages about $6-8 usd a yard full price, depending on the brand and store.

- old linens: a cosplay classic. Go to goodwill or Facebook marketplace or a garage sale or something and buy up a bunch of old bed sheets and stuff or some curtains and be ready to get dirty with dye, bleach, and a lot of prayers. Best to aim for solid white, makes it easier, unless you want that specific color/pattern. Upside is that these make bigger pieces easier to make. Think cloaks, super big skirts, “Aladdin” pants, things that have a high depth AND width to the piece you need. Lowers the seam count, at least.

- Muslin: I will have an unhinged rant about historical vs modern muslin later on, but this is a fabric you can get for as little as ¢50 a yard in some cases used for a pattern making method called “draping” that will also be explained at a later date. It’s thick, completely undyed/unbleached, and sturdy enough to take some abuse and doesn’t gray too bad. It’s shit compared to historical muslin, but it does its job as a cheap canvas in a pinch. Be warned: these come on VERY short bolts and often aren’t “double wide” like other fabrics, which can be an issue and lead to TONS of seams.

Again, muslin is used to make patterns usually. Will explain “draping” later but it’s pretty self explanatory based on the name.

[kittycataphora]

IPA SCRABBLE!

First and foremost, this idea was all @allthingslinguistic ‘s.

She made a post and an excel sheet back in 2012 that was literally the only reason I could figure out how to balance this etc so thank you so much Gretchen for doing all of the mathy stuff for me!

This is a modified standard travel Scrabble set containing 104 tiles, with 4 of them added by me made out of polymer clay!

How to play

It’s Scrabble but with the International Phonetic Alphabet.

Okay fine more detail

‘Sound guide’ for all the tiles is on the back of the box for reference during play

Sounds are all from British English (as that is where this will be played lol) with common dialect divides merged into one phoneme e.g. TRAP/BATH would both use <æ>

Point values and frequency of phoneme tiles are based mostly on how often they occur in speech

Stress and length do not need to be marked

<tʃ> does not have its own tile and must be made using the separate <t> and <ʃ> tiles next to each other. This decision was made mostly because I was short on tiles but also because I thought it could make for some interesting plays - if /tiːt/ was played on the board someone could add /ʃ/ to the end to make /tiːtʃ/ and then continue down.

Quite a few adjustments had to be made based on me running short on tiles :/ Some other notable mergers here are:

ð into θ

uː and ʌ into ʊ

ɑː into æ

I also did not have enough for any blank tiles, HOWEVER, I managed to get hold of some oven bake clay which I turned into Wug Tiles!

These do the same job as blank tiles, and one is given to every player at the start of a game without counting as one of their main 7 tiles. This makes things a little easier for non-linguists who are unfamiliar with IPA - if they can’t figure out a sound to make a word they can just play a Wild Wug and fill the gap! Also they’re just so small and baby

Process

This whole thing only took me about a day and a bit! Granted I had a spare Scrabble set lying around as well as home printer access, so I imagine starting from scratch/hand painting the box designs would take much longer.

The hardest part was definitely hand-writing the tiles! They were so teeny tiny and fiddly to hold, also it’s pretty mind-numbing to sit and write <ə> perfectly 7 times over. I enjoyed the craft though, it’s been a second since I’ve had a project!

Feel free to use my set as a reference for your own if you’re as insane and nerdy as I clearly am!!