#the important bit is the doilies

[comic-sans-chan]

i long for the old married garashir universe where they didn't meet until they were much farther along on their own journeys and a forty to fifty-year-old divorced dr. julian bashir meets fifty to sixty-year-old forever alone garak the pretty bespectacled lizard man who collects cardassian tchotchkes and antique data rods of the worst books in the galaxy and special premium alien hard candies in his little high-fashion handbag and julian just takes one look at one of the twenty-three hand-sewn doilies scattered throughout his home and thinks "i must have him"

[pippenpaddlopsicopolisthethird]

My dissertation is in the final stages and I really need to be putting a lot of focus onto this draft to get it as close as possible to completed by next week.

Which means of course that my brain is desperate to focus on anything that ISN'T the draft. I've learned long ago that trying to Only focus on the important thing doesn't work at all, but I very can't ignore it.

Only solution is to reward the bits of Important Draft Work with bits of Fun Escape Project. Between checking data points and rewording results for precision, I'm fiddling with trying to invent a pattern for a crocheted chain mail coif!

It looks like a pretty basic pattern in the round. I found a vintage doily pattern from 1940 to give me an idea of how to start. The center of the top of the head is done in filet stitch, which looks squarer than I'd like but is pretty secure and will probably feel more comfortable on the top of the head. Then I'll move over to a chain netting stitch, which will hopefully give me more of a round look.

Here's what I'm starting with; I think that the next round is when I'll move over to the netting.

I'll update with progress as I go! I may end up with a usable pattern too!

[trainsinanime]

I feel like talking a bit more about Vanisher 2.0 and Red Volpina (todo: look up what these Miraculous Ladybug season 5 episodes are actually called). My previous review of them has been,

Yes there is stuff where the writing still has potential to get better (not once but twice does everybody in class believe a known liar over Marinette!? Marinette’s classmates suddenly realized Chloé was doing badly in school and somehow that’s Marinette’s problem!? Lol), but it’s still better than it’s ever been.

But maybe there's more to talk about here. Just a couple of days ago I saw a post that complained bitterly about how unfair it is that Marinette must always prove herself, and how Alya was a bad friend in these two episodes.

I don't think that's a great hot take, but I think there is a kernel of truth here. The writing in these episodes was not 100%, but in ways that are interesting to talk about. This isn't meant as salt; I watched the episodes with my sister and I had a lot of fun with them regardless of their flaws. I just think it's interesting.

First of all, I don't think it's actually a problem that Marinette must prove herself. Marinette encountering obstacles and overcoming them through cleverness and strength of will is the point of the show. That's literally fine.

The real issue here is that all the characters are written rather weirdly in order to make the plot happen. Alya is the most visible victim of this, but everyone suffers from it to a certain degree.

In fact, in Vanisher 2.0 (todo look up episode title), this even applies to the villains. Sabrina does not want to steal for Chloé because it goes against her code of ethics as a police officer's daughter. Where did that come from? She has stolen from Marinette before, on Chloé's behalf, back in Darkblade in season 1. The show is just summoning conflict out of thin air.

(There is probably a joke to be made here, about how the cop's daughter steals and plants fake evidence on Marinette to accuse her of a crime, but that's a different thing.)

But it is most notable with Marinette. In Vanisher 2.0 (todo look up title), everybody sees stolen high-value goods such as… paper doilies…? appear out of Marinette's bag, after Chloé told everyone they'd be in there. And the conclusion everyone draws is that Chloé is correct.

Then in Red Volpina, the class learns that Chloé has never made her own homework, something the teacher apparently never noticed before. The class somehow agrees with Lila that this is Marinette's fault for not recognising that Chloé is struggling, despite this not being Marinette's job, and despite Chloé's insistence that she isn't struggling, she just doesn't care.

Neither of these are at all consistent with basically anything that came before. The class knows who Chloé is, how vindictive, petty and entitled she is. They also know who Marinette is, are friends with her, and a surprisingly high percentage are or have been in love with her.

From a story perspective, it makes sense, though. Both episodes want to tell a particular story. In Adoration (todo fix all the spots where I called it Vanisher 2.0), the point is to get to Zoé's big heroic self-sacrifice for Marinette. In Revelation, it's about how always seeing the best in people can sometimes lead you astray. Those are both interesting ideas in their own right. It's just that the episodes used narrative shortcuts to get us there, and ignored character consistency along the way.

I think the point about Alya is the most important one here. Saying "Alya is a bad friend" is canonically not true (look at all the stuff our poor girl puts up with on Marinette's behalf), but also missing the forest for the trees. As smarter people than me have put it, Alya is often only in the story to make Marinette's internal conflict an external one, so we can see the different sides argue in screen instead of imagining them in our head. As a result of that, Alya is sometimes her own character, and sometimes, very often in fact, just whatever she needs to be to get the plot moving.

In Revelation (todo fix yada yada), the plot they had in mind wouldn't work at all if Alya took Marinette and Adrien seriously, and acted on all the information she has. So she just doesn't. That doesn't mean she's a bad friend, it means she's a narrative tool, one that the writers don't always wield super well. Alya is far from the most irrational person in this episode (come on, Gabriel, giving Lila superpowers again? Even though you know she hates you? That's just silly), but since she's one of the good guys and Marinette's best friend and often portrayed as the voice of reason, we notice it the most in her case.

I think the show is genuinely nice and fun, but there's no denying that its writing has flaws. Sometimes more, sometimes less, and these two episodes have some that just stand out a bit. Framing that as "the show is unfair to Marinette" (or even "Alya is a bad friend") is not an interesting way to discuss that, in my opinion. The real issue is that the show had a story it wanted to tell, only twenty minutes to do so, and so it crammed that story in with a crowbar, regardless of the cost. Both episodes have enough good moments to make up for it in my personal opinion, but they have central moments that are just plain clunky.

[gaviicreates]

2024 Intentions

Hiya fellow crafters! I hope your first week of 2024 has been fruitful and inspiring, or if needed, relaxing and perfect for a reset. For me, it's been a bit of both, and I'm abysmally late on whatever we do for the switch over of years.

I thought about doing a "what I made in 2023" but I realized I didn't make very good notes or take very good pictures for such a task. There's also a lot I am proud of, and each project was special for different reasons. But as the last few days have passed, I also moved on from looking backward. So instead, I want to switch over the year by looking to 2024.

I'm not into planning too much of my crafting month by month, but I do have a few WIPs going and scheduled, plus some longer term projects I am very excited for.

Carry over WIPs Carrying over from 2023, I have two main projects and some doilies.

I actually caught up on my sky blanket a few days ago. Granted, I have to weave in ends still - so many ends - but I'm proud of myself for keeping up with it, thus far. As a reminder, this is like a temperature blanket, but I'm basing my colors off of the coloring of the sky: sunny or partly cloudy or overcast or snowing, for a few examples. This project will finish up in October (since I am running it a year between an important date) and I have November and December for final touches like ends and borders.

Also from 2023, I have a start to a knit sock, which I'd like to finish by St. Paddy's Day since it's all about the green.

Of doilies, officially, I have three to complete, and they've been started. I've had to buy some additional stock for one of them, which will take time to come in. I'll fit doilies in as I can, and as I get requests.

New and Current:

I have a drop-in gift I started in tunisian crochet. If you saw my sunday stitchin', that burnt amber is the start to this project. Since it's a gift, I won't share too much about this, but the goal for this one is for it to be a "January" project.

This next one I am VERY excited for, and it'll be a long term project.

This past year, FFXIV has been a huge comfort and challenge, and I've come to love the stories and characters. I am calling this one my "of the Seventh Dawn" blanket, and I've selected a hand-dyed colorway for each of the NPC Scions, plus a color for my own Warrior of Light and my husband's. In total, I'll have 14 different colors, which are all different. I expect this one will be as chaotic as a mystery advent, but each of the colors will mean something to us. It's a subtle nod, but I've spent a lot of time investigating colors and making the selections. I am still working out the pattern and size I'd like to make this, but I've gotten the yarn on order and I can't wait to share them.

#ffxiv blanket for this one

Blogging

Finally, in the space of this blog, I'd like to be a bit more active with writing and sharing my progress. I have a yarn subscription for this year that's through Fangirl Fibers (90s Cinematic Tonals), so I'll have some exciting, surprise acquisitions which will hopefully allow me to work through some of this stash.

[reliand]

#insane to me. ''i'm one step away from crashing to my knees / one step away from spilling my guts to you''#followed by the confrontation in the alley ... him CLAPPING for her and the way she looks at him. the way they both look at each other#they know that they are both apex predators even when no one else does. like they both know theyre supposed to kill each other. can feel it#followed by angel saying once spike starts something he will never stop. followed by spike CRASHING IN THE WINDOW BC HE COULDNT WAIT GODDD#''you shouldntve come'' ''yeah. i messed up your doilies'' GODDDDDD ''it wont hurt a bit'' ''no spike. its gonna hurt a lot'' FUCKK MEEE#dru's little ''did she hurt you?'' and spike's pouty face. embarrassing freak behavior!!#the fact that spuffy ever even happened can truly only be explained by the fact that theres a god and she loves me#they fell in love quite literally not because the writers wanted it or it served the vision of the show but bc the characters WERE IN LOVE#bonkers to me that btvs introduced angel as buffy's romantic foil and then basically did nothing interesting w his character while souled#and then this throwaway character goes from being a minor bad to one of the most important characters in the entire series.#almost entirely because SPIKE is the one who works as a narrative foil to buffy. not even in a shippy way but always; as a villain too!#you know you want to dance

spuffy school hard scene i am still at ur mercy. spuffy school hard scene how did they pick the song so perfect. spuffy school hard scene have u ever seen a love story bloom so bizarrely and so organically to the extent that it feels woven even into their beginnings & their every interaction speaks to their connection. what is this

[whatyourusherthinks]

Joker: Folie à Deux Review

Joker is a movie from 2019 about the Batman villain set in a realistic grounded world and is terrible. You shut your tongue! The movie is incredibly deep and is about important topics! Like what, all of life's problems are the fault of a woman? My big prognosis of the original Joker is that it acts like it's deep and meaningful, but really it's just ripping off all Scorsese movies' text without understanding the subtext. And frankly, Scorsese movies do not interest me at all. Except Hugo. I want to watch Hugo. But- but- he's the greatest filmmaker ever! Then why does half the audience misunderstand his movies? Like I'm not saying the guy is a bad at making movies, but if a significant portion of the audience isn't picking up what you're putting down, maybe the problem is with the message.

While you chew on that Buggnutz, allow me to enlighten the readers on my prerelease exposure of this movie. When I first saw the trailer, my reaction was, *Aww fuck, THAT comes out this year?" and "That title is really stupid.". But strangely, the more I heard about it the more I thought it might be good. It's a musical? Cool, maybe then it won't be so self-serious. A bunch of festivals didn't like it? What the fuck do those guys know anyway? The FANS of the original movie hate it? Ditto my previous response twice over.

Um... Ummm.... YOU HATE BATMAN DON'T YOU?! REVIEW INVALIDATED! I don't hate Batman you nincompoop. I really like the Batman Incorporated comic, Batman: The Brave and the Bold cartoon, and the webcomic Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. I even enjoy the Adam West Batman Show and the Silver Age comics. He's more fun when the writer isn't taking him too seriously, but there are some darker Batman stories I like. I remember enjoying the '89 Batman film when I watched it. I just don't think he needs to be in the Superman show or in everything DC related. Now admittedly, I'm more down on the Joker character. He's very overplayed, and all anyone wants to do with him is turn him into a serial killer. A serial killer with a philosophy! So? How does that make him special? A philosophy is just a guiding opinion and EVERYONE have opinions that guide them. I'm just saying that the Joker is entertaining when he's coming up with ridiculous themed crimes for Batman, not when he's just murdering random people just because. But I get it, Murder Clown are popular and it would be even weirder to get obsessed with John Wayne Gacy.

But enough stalling! Here's what I thought about Joker: Folding Doilies.

What's The Movie About?

Arthur Fleck is on trial for the murders he committed in the first movie, and while on lock-up he meets Harley, who's Joker's stalker fan girl and they sing like six cover songs together.

What I Like.

The opening cartoon was the best part of the movie. They should snip it out, maybe make two or three more, and just release those as a fun side thing. It was basically a darker Loony Toons short, it was well animated and creative. Phoenix and Gaga are phenomenal actors, and they do not let up here. I specifically remember a scene where Arthur is practicing smiling on the way to the courtroom for the first time, and it just Phoenix mugging to the camera, but the subtle storytelling from just his facial expressions was incredible. I liked the songs, at least when Gaga was singing them. (Apparently Phoenix was sick when then shot all the singing bits, and you can DEFINATELY tell.) They actually make sense in the film since they were all written before the 80s, unlike the licensed music in the last movie. And I absolutely have to admit, I did get schadenfreude from how much the movie harped on about Arthur Fleck sucking. "Oh, you think he was a badass?" The movie says, "Well guess what? Everyone hates him! He's pathetic! He premature ejaculates, and cries, and gets beat up and has his lunch money stolen! The only people who like him like him because of the Joker persona, which he admits isn't him! While crying! And then he runs away from people just like you who want him to be the Joker!"

What I Didn't Like.

Unfortunately, hating the first movie does not save Joker: Folly of a Deuce. The sequel continues the themes from the first movie of grasping at higher concepts and deep ideas but only really come up with anything to say except "All of your problems can be traced back a woman manipulating you." It also just, misses a bunch of opportunities for easter eggs. Almost like it's ashamed to be a Batman movie. *Sips tea loudly* Harvey Dent is int he movie, he is in two scenes where violence is levied against him, and neither makes a Two Face illusion. Obviously this isn't a legitimate criticism of the movie, a movie doesn't need easter eggs to be good. So here's the major, SUBSTANTIAL problem with Joker: Fuck a Duck: The plot is structured like the Cold War. It just keeps getting worse until a psychopath puts an end to it all. The beginning set up of Arthur in prison and having to deal the asshole guards was interesting, but I kept wondering "Wasn't this a musical?". Then there's three songs back to back. And then the boring courtroom drama shit starts. I actually cannot comprehend when Law and Order: Gotham Edition is as dull as it is, especially when the character occasionally break into song.

Here are some other little things that bother me about Joker: Fight or Die. Why does the guy attack Arthur during the verdict but before the car bomb? I guess the whole point of the trial is to prove that he was competent enough to know what he was doing when killed people in the last movie, so the guy doesn't realize Arthur's unable to control his laughter? But why have that in the scene at all when everything is about to explode? If so much of the movie is beating over your head how deplorable Arthur Fleck is, why do you have a sexual assault scene, explicitly framing him as a victim? I get that it breaks his spirit and gets him to admit he isn't the Joker, but what is the movie saying? That Arthur is so pathetic all it takes is one measly rape to get him to completely reverse his conviction? Who was that kid that Arthur is hanging out with in prison? And how the hell did this movie cost 200 million dollars?! Okay, I don't dwell on the cost of movies. I think any kind of budget can make a good movie, or a bad movie. Talent and hard work can make anything artistic happen, smart people can work around whatever they are given, and incompetence will tank any project regardless of how much money you throw at it. I firmly believe that independent films and big budget movies have an equal chance of being good or bad. I don't even look at the costs of movies because I don't care. That being said, how the hell did this movie cost four times more than the first movie? They look the goddamn same! Hell, it should cost LESS, because there's only four locations in the movie! I'm honestly baffled. Does Lady Gaga cost more than Robert DeNiro or was this covering up a money laundering scheme?

There's one scene in particular that is kind of the microcosm for the whole movie. Unfortunately, it's the final scene, so spoiler time! In Joker: He's Fucking Dead Y'all, they guarantee there will be no more sequels to the movie. Which, thank fucking god, right? The problem is the way they do it. The entire movie set up Harley to be the one to take the Joker out. Like, it's incredibly obvious. I guess not obvious enough, because instead, she just dumps Arthur on The Stairs and that random kid Arthur is in jail with stabs him. Let's break this down. You want to kill Arthur Fleck because you want to shut the door on future sequels, as well as piss off the people obsessed with this version of the character. But why don't you have Harley kill him? Hell, if you did it in the scene where she breaks up with him, he would die on The Stairs and how goddamn transgressive would that be to the shitheads? Nah, instead Harley is just a manipulator because she's crazy and this kid is kills Joker because he's crazy. Probably because of a woman, right Todd?

Final Summation.

Watch this party trick I can do now: I will predict what 90% of people who claim they are film reviewers will say the worst movies of the year are and what they will say about them. Ahem.

NuMbEr ThReE; BoRdErLaNdS. hOw DaRe YoU, aVi ArEd, RuIn An InTeRnAl GaMiNg FrAnChIsE. nUmBeR TwO; jOkEr 2. HoW cOuLd YoU tUrN yOuR bAcKs On ThE tRuE fAnS wHo GaVe YoU a BiLlIoN dOlLaRs ToDd PhIlLiPs. ShAmE oN yOu. NuMbEr OnE; mAdAmE wEb. ThE oNlY tHiNg WoRsE aVi ArEd Or ToDd PhIlLiPs Is A wOmAn.

What is even the point of that joke Roan? To swing your indie "I watch more movies than you" hipster dick around? Yeah kinda, but mostly to point out how sheltered reviewers who only watch the mainstream movies that get tons of press are. Walk a day in the shoes of the guy who sat through the entirety of The Front Room why don'tcha? Joker: Finally Done is bad, yeah, and I guess I can't fault anyone really hating this movie if they were a fan of the first one. But don't act personally insulted if your killer clown movie wasn't up to your standard. Especially since we are getting another one next week!

FUCK!

[lo1k-diamonds]

Too Sweet 💜 Chapter 4 - You know you don't gotta pretend

PAIRING: Demon!Yoongi x (f)reader

SUMMARY: Coming from unabashed wealth has its perks — like never having to lift a finger in your life. When that suddenly changes, you end up at a crossroads: how far will you go to have everything you want?

WORD COUNT: 8.2k

GENRE: Crossroad Demon AU (Sloth), smut, angst

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, mistakes are made, Jimin's heart is broken 💔, arguing, breakdown

A.N. The one when you think you're making the right decision... and everything falls apart.

Masterpost | Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter : Next Chapter >

The sun was peeking beyond the skyline when you pushed your suite doors open. Morning didn’t phase you, you knew very well what time it was, and you were ecstatic. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so excited and energized for natural reasons — meaning not drug or supernatural-induced. No, this time something awesome had happened to you and you couldn’t stop grinning. You threw your coat on a chair and heels away somewhere near it and took a deep breath before rubbing your wrist — you needed to make it last.

“Yes.”

You turned back to find your demon sitting on the chair, ignoring your coat on it. He was wearing black as usual, but this time a doily lace shirt showed the pale skin of his torso. Your lips curved instantly; his slacks and blazer along with the laces were delicate and fine — the perfect compliment to your elegant black dress. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he had also returned from the party.

You couldn’t help your grin; you were about to tell him why when you noticed that he was looking down — figuratively and literally.

Your eyebrows twitched as you stepped closer, ��You look blue.”

The corners of his lips twitched, “I was born to be blue.”

There was an intonation to his words that knitted your eyebrows in confusion — where had you heard those words in that melody before?

“Should I cheer you up?” You asked teasingly, placing your hands on his shoulders. He kept looking down and away from you but didn’t avoid your touch or show any hint of not wanting you there. So you smiled and pulled your lace panties down your legs before comfortably cradling him with a sigh, “I’ll make you feel better.”

He let the air out of his lungs with a hint of impatience and as you leaned forward and hugged his neck, pressing your tits generously close to his face, he finally looked up.

His hands roamed your waist as he eyed your chest with lust in his eyes. He didn’t move but rather observed your cleavage like a dieter would a chocolate cake.

The things you wanted to talk to him about took a backseat when you gently raised his chin. You leaned in to press his lips upon meeting his gorgeous eyes. Regardless of what you were about to ask him, he didn’t stop being important to you. Even if he was a demon who would own your soul, you still cared for him.

You nuzzled him, “How long has it been since we met?”

“A bit over a year.”

You hummed, utterly relaxed from his presence, as usual. “Feels like yesterday.”

Though you knew it wasn’t. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so stable, just enjoying life. Maybe when you were still a child, unaware of the world’s evils. Ever since you met him, lots of changes made it possible for you to enjoy life. With its highs and lows, of course, but his touch and consistency soothed your soul absolutely. They allowed you to take part and pleasure in other things. It was all thanks to him.

You searched for him under you, grazing your nails on the back of his head to relax him and indicate that he could dive into your chest if he wanted to. His eyes were squinted and lips tense, almost as if he wanted to but shouldn't, and you didn't press. You did, however, find his pants zipper and unceremoniously dag deeper until his cock was free in all its glory.

Your mouth watered at the sight and you pumped him gently, increasing in firmness as your desire grew. You could have made it last, or even just cheered him up like this, but you looked at him. One glance was enough to see that he wanted this but was not going to make a move, and you knew it. He rarely did, you had to initiate normally. It didn’t bother you.

Not that you planned this; you had a completely different wish in mind. But now, with his fingertips pressing into your hips and the desire building at your core, you couldn’t help indulging in that sweet delight.

You aligned yourself with him and fell, curling your fingers around his hair. It stole a groan out of the both of you and pushed you to grab his hair at the back of his head. A steep tension crackled from your sex up your spine and you were reminded yet again why he was undeniable. Just a taste and you were adrift in those sensations, wishing to be swept away and drowned.

You bucked your hips, accommodating his girth, and your teeth indented your bottom lip. The pleasure flickering from the fire you generated together was licking pleasurably up your chest and searing beyond your ribs. You looked down to find him grimacing and absorbing the view of your swaying body; such a shame he wasn't eating your chest.

You brushed his jawline, leaning in to teasingly ghost his lips before succumbing to the hunger and having them, but he interrupted your thoughts.

“What were you going to ask?”

“To fall in love.”

You couldn’t think properly with the way he slid along your walls, pressing your clit just right when he got inside to the hilt.

Despite your moans and the tension arching your back as you rode him, you still tried to make it clearer.

“I want Jimin to fall in love with me.”

You couldn’t stop the sweet movements of your body, not even when something akin to claws scratched into your hips. 

He didn't stop you, he chuckled, “I see.” You were in too deep, with closed eyes and head falling back, to read into his words or expression. However, your tension stiffened and you realized it was because he was preventing you from going all out. Because of this, you looked down at him with a bit more discernment, and he rasped, “You should know better than to ask for that.”

“Why?”

“Because that messes up with people.”

“Is it impossible?” Your tone was sweet, a gentle coo as you caressed the side of his neck.

He grunted, still letting you move your hips but not letting it escalate further, “No.”

“Then do it,” you asked, voice tender and gentle as the fire in your lower abdomen risked stealing your senses. You could be asking for him to fuck you senseless, and in some way, you were.

“Why would I?”

His tone was dry except for the hint of pleasure in its waver, and you bit your lip. You had found your tension again and it was guiding your hips — every inch back and forth magnified the delight.

And so you couldn't help but coo, “Because I asked.”

He rolled his eyes, “We both know you’re not the smartest at asking for things.” You smirked as your hands curled around his hair at the nape of his neck. “I mean,” his voice lowered and his hands helped you sink deeper for the first time. “Look at what you’re doing.”

“What?” You asked innocently, making sure to take advantage of the way his cock was poking the right spot.

“Riding this dick while asking for another.”

You couldn't stop the laugh that burst out of you, “You don’t mind! You don’t care.” You opened your eyes and faced his cold gaze. Despite the heat of his skin and the humidity at his hairline, there was no other emotion in his expression. This didn't phase you, however. “You’re letting me ride you because it gets you off,” you voiced, letting your voice tone lower with the spark of pleasure about to catch. “Same for me,” you admitted, tone pitching in a newfound wave of lust. His nails were piercing the skin at your hips so well, “What I’m asking for— is love.”

A moan vibrated out of you as you kept going. You had found that spot that clicked and spread the fire through you. Heat beamed out of you along with lewd cries, with redness spreading over your chest and cheeks. You had found the exact spot to let you come without obstacles, and unsurprisingly, he didn't let you.

You chuckled when he grabbed your ass and got up from the chair. He carried you as you nibbled his ear, not in the least upset by the interruption or sudden change of plans. As long as he kept going, you didn't care, and you just knew he would.

He dropped you at the edge of the bed without pulling out and you noticed that his lips were pressed. You couldn't call it apprehension, but whatever it was, it didn't resemble the familiar lust or flout.

You didn't ask about it though; he grabbed your hands and pressed your wrists to the mattress next to your head.

You were about to ask him to get you both off so you could talk properly when his hips snapped to yours, the familiar clap ringing inside your ears alongside a pressure in your core. It threatened to push and pull at that ball of fire in your lower abdomen, setting it off to consume you wholly, and your mouth fell agape. Another slap and your lips were slack, another and your eyes closed. You didn’t have to ask, and nothing else mattered.

“Who is he?”

As soon as he talked, you knew he was in a different mindset. The pleasure was dragging you into a stupor with every pound inside your warm flesh, whereas his eyes were sharp, almost cynical. He fucked you like he wanted you to know that, and yet you were barely able to focus.

He squeezed your wrists, pressing the bracelets to indent your skin, and you bit your lip to hide a smirk, “Someone I met at a party tonight.”

You tried to swallow your moans as you peered at him. A part of you was reveling in the way he was almost brutally fucking you, disdainful of whether he would reach too deep or squeeze too hard. Glancing over his formal attire, once again you thought he could have come home with you from the party. Clothes still on and all, you groaned as you thought of him fucking you in that context. Whether because you met Jimin and had chemistry, and your demon wanted to assert his territory, or just simply because he couldn’t resist taking you as soon as you were home. You certainly knew who you’d take home if you had to choose between your ethereal stoic demon and the handsome soft-spoken Jimin. But you’d never have a choice. Your demon wasn’t human, and you were lonely.

“So just call him.”

You licked your lips, letting the moans surface as you heated up so much, your sweat was making you slide inside your dress. “I will but—” You squirmed, feeling the peak evade you because the angle wasn’t right, and he pressed your wrists harder to the bed. You knew then he wasn’t going to let you — he’d play with you till the end, even if it fucked you to be pounded mercilessly while you tried to talk about this issue. “I want everything to be certain.”

Your voice was tense and rough and you shuddered, trying to see something in his eyes. In the end, only sweat dripped from his chin onto your chest.

“Maybe if you let things run their course it will happen.”

You let your head fall back to the mattress and laughed wildly, even with the moans stealing your breath, “I can’t wait! I don’t have the time.”

“You have more time now than if I do this for you,” he spoke between gritted teeth, squeezing your wrists so hard you knew they’d bruise. He was pressing and grinding your clit so hard your core was starting to burn and you thought that maybe he wanted to fuck you into the mattress.

It was the first inkling you had that maybe he was pissed.

But you didn't care; you kept smirking, “Sure, but less time to actually be happy.”

“Falling in love is part of the journey, it will make you happy.”

His pounding had become slower and pointed, and you crunched up as much as you could to whisper to him with a strained voice, “It might never happen, I might fuck it up, I don’t want to risk it.”

He didn’t mean to match each point of yours to his rutting, and you could see in the tense line of his lips that he wasn’t pleased by it. He eyed your neck, your mouth, and finally your eyes, surely glistening fiery hot from exhaustion and lust. You wondered then if he would do it or ask you to take it back. It also occurred to you that he could tell you that you belonged to him and should know better than to think about anyone else.

Before you could laugh at yourself for the idea, he leaned more into you, nearly gluing your bodies. It finally gave you the angle you needed to have him rub your clit with every buck of his hips and your mind blanked with the pleasure. 

You arched your back, crying incoherently, “Fuck you feel so good—”

The fire was catching, and your nails sank into your palms. You were so close, on the verge of being turned to ash.

“Are you sure?” He asked, tone sober and reliable.

“Yes!”

You wanted to come and be consumed from the inside out, but you also wanted whatever you were saying before.

“Alright, kitten.” You opened your eyes and frowned as they watered. His tone was gentle, “For a price.”

Your heart raced and you knew what he meant. You guessed that was your path, then. “Yes.”

He stayed looking at you and your heart skipped a beat. Was he hesitating? You were starting to become delirious and unsure of anything anymore due to your narrowing vision and stupified state. Your core tensed unbelievably under him, pounded to the point you didn’t know if you were still in one piece before you snapped. You squirmed and raised your head from the mattress, feeling the very sweat covering you set ablaze to match the burning waves of pleasure tearing your reasoning. Your cries echoed around the room until he caught your lips with his, merging you two into a kiss as you felt him twitching inside you almost as if to match your clenching around him.

He kept kissing you, even as your quivers dwindled and despite all odds, you felt embraced. He was pressed so close to you, settled so deep, fused so tightly, you could believe he was holding you, soothing you maybe for eternity.

Until he separated your mouths to barely a graze before locking your lips firmly. And with a swift breath, your bones ached with the weight of yet another wish.

His nose stayed close to yours as he pressed his forehead to yours. You realized, as your breathing soothed, that you were caught into each other, with arms, legs, sexes, and breaths; all mingling indivisibly. It suddenly hurt deep inside your chest when you looked at him. Inexplicably, through a line between his knitted eyebrows, you could tell that something was off. Maybe that had not been your path after all.

He opened his eyes and you knew you were seeing things correctly. But there was nothing to do about it now.

“How long do I have left?” You wanted to be strong but your voice shook. It wasn’t about the time — it was about the ominous feeling deep inside your gut.

“One year and a half, kitten,” he said, and you could swear there was a hint of sorrow. “Make it count.”

Your lips trembled but you nodded and closed your eyes. You expected him to leave you like this, but he didn’t. He got you on his lap and lay you gently in bed between your black silk sheets. Then he lay by your side, holding you and humming a sweet tune until you fell asleep.

You smiled at the message on your phone’s screen and put the phone down on the seat next to you. Happiness was stretching your lips in a soft curve as you looked outside the car window and saw the city lights shine on the streets. Your driver stopped at a crossing with lights and you waited patiently for which way the car would turn.

The light turned green and the vehicle started moving, turning in the longest direction to the left, letting you get an overview of the other options, and you smiled. If it had gone straight ahead, it would have taken you to your place, but it didn’t. This simple detail had managed to make you smile for the last six months straight.

Things with Jimin were great. Ever since you called him the morning after meeting him, your life had only improved. Jimin wasn’t a dream guy just because he was handsome and talented, he was so much more. You knew it the instant you spoke for the first time — he was modest and hardworking. He had worked his way from a humble beginning and fought through sheer talent and willpower to get to the top. Now he was one of the world's top pop musicians and deserved all the praise he got, and more.

You never thought you’d open up to him about the things that had scarred you growing up, especially not the attempts at fulfilling your dreams to become a producer, only to be used and tossed aside like a meek girl with silly aspirations. You remembered the way he got angry in your stead, trying to get you to tell him who it was so he could confront the bastards himself. It pained him that you suffered; it made him sick to his stomach to know so many people had that experience, even if he didn’t. Because he cared about others, he volunteered and donated to charity frequently, and it was a well-known secret that he was an advocate for equal opportunities.

Those were just straightforward ways to say that he was great, but it wasn’t just that. There were no secrets between you except for one — you couldn’t bring yourself to say a word about selling your soul and you suspected it was part of the deal. Regardless, he knew about everything else, from your deepest fears to your bitter resentments, your past relationships and even your issues with drugs and alcohol. And yet, he never treated you differently. He never thought of you as a charity case or someone to supervise, to control, to display. He took you out to a restaurant, despite the paparazzi or the public, the same way he took you to the studio or took you to bed. He wanted you to be a part of every aspect of his life to any extent you felt comfortable with, and you were finally taking deep breaths.

He made you want to be better. To do better. It was a slow process — wanting wasn’t enough. But he believed in you and so you believed in yourself. Even walking inside the studio and giving your opinion on his upcoming music and side projects had been huge for you. It had been years, but with your hand in his, you could do it. With his sweet eyes boring into you and his gentle fingers brushing your hair as you often leaned on him and listened to the music quietly, you believed it was possible and that the world could be a better place.

After six months together, things showed no signs of slowing down. It was the longest, healthiest, and happiest relationship you ever had, and it made your time on this earth feel worth it.

That glee stayed with you as you thanked your driver and got inside the luxury apartment building where you spent most of your time now. His place was also on the top floor, a penthouse, and it was the coziest place you had ever lived in. He always said you brought life to the place, adding your pillows, blankets, flowers, and books, making sure the pastel colors were intersected with lines of love and plushness. You’d always laugh when he insisted on your liveliness, but let it go quickly. You couldn’t begin to explain to him how adrift and lifeless you were before you met him, but it didn’t matter anymore now.

As you got inside and took your jacket off, the creamy scent of melted cheese reached your nose and you just knew he had cooked something and was keeping it warm to wait for you. Even though you told him you’d be late and that he shouldn’t wait for you, of course, he did.

You dropped your purse on the couch and glanced at the kitchen, but it was empty, so you turned to look for him. You entered the expanse of the living room and immediately noticed the sound of guitar strings from the sound system. 

When I met you, the world was bright and sunny

And that was when you saw him — standing outside on the balcony with his jacket on but pushed down to reveal milky shoulders and biceps, despite the night air. His blonde hair ended just above his pierced ears, letting the chain of a necklace show and warm your chest even further. 

When you left the curtain fell

“Hey,” you voiced gently, getting outside too.

He turned to you, instant satisfaction pushing his lovely cheeks into a smile, “Hey, my love.”

He extended his hand for you to take, and you did but didn’t pass on the opportunity to get on your tiptoes and hug him by the shoulders, warming him with your body.

“You’re listening to this song again, mimi,” you mused, brushing his hair at the back of the nape gently.

“It’s because you like it so much,” he sighed into your neck, placing a peck. “It reminds me of you.”

Your lips twitched and you kissed the side of his head as he pulled back to look at you. His forehead touched yours for a moment and your heart quite simply beat for him, even as a familiar voice sang from the back.

I guess I'm luckier than some folks

He pressed your lips swiftly, taking your breath away.

I've known the thrill of loving you

You let him take you in his arms and twirl with you as you smiled into the kiss.

And that alone is more

You couldn’t be more fit for each other.

Than I was created for

Your heart beamed with happiness — you’d at least live the rest of your time peacefully in bliss.

'Cause I was born to be b—

The music suddenly stopped and he put you down without letting you go. The breeze was colder and rowdier, turning your hair all around you as you both faced the apartment. It was as though someone could have stopped it, but you knew it wasn’t possible.

“That’s odd,” he voiced and walked inside to grab his phone and set something else to play. Meanwhile, you looked at your wrists where silver bracelets sat seamlessly. Despite the song, he wouldn’t. “That’s okay?”

You looked back at Jimin and smiled with a nod — he had chosen a piano tune, your favorite. “Will you ever stop pampering me?”

His radiant smile was contagious as he stepped outside again to wrap his arms around you. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, following the chain of his necklace with your fingers until where the pendant with both your initials intertwined sat over his heart.

“Should I stop?” His voice lowered as he observed you caressing your gift to him.

“Never,” you sighed, absolutely content.

“Never,” he mused as you tried brushing your hair with your fingers now that the wind was calm again. “Never is right. I never want to stop pampering you, making you smile, putting you at ease, and ensuring you’re happy. I never ever want to wake up to a morning without you, go about a day without thinking of you, or go back to how life was without you. I love you,” he said with glistening eyes, grabbing your hands in his, and you smiled. You knew he did. “So I’ve been thinking.”

You grinned, “Let’s hear it! Maybe over dinner since—”

“Wait,” he asked. You were pulling him to make your way inside but he brought you back with your hands still in his. “I can’t say this over dinner,” he chuckled, shaking his head for a moment before facing you with stars in his eyes. “No, I need to look at you,” he cupped your cheek, entranced, and you smiled. “When you gave me this three months ago, I thought my heart would explode,” he grinned, touching the pendant. “Then I thought, what can I give you three months later? I thought of so many options, asked my friends, googled it, and nothing felt right. Until I realized what I wanted and had no idea what I was waiting for.”

You smiled but were intrigued, sure that you’d love anything he’d get you until he pulled a small box from his pocket.

“My love, my heart, my intention,” he took a deep breath, facing you with glistening eyes. “I wanted you to have them, now and forever.”

He opened the box and your breath caught. You hid your mouth under your hand and let the discomfort spread through your gut. “What?”

“I want to marry you,” he smiled with tearful eyes, and yours watered as well. “I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, have kids, build a family,” he bit his lip to contain his excitement, but it was impossible. “I want to bring you joy and love you every day for the rest of our lives.”

It was as though you had been seeing life through a pink lens that now just cracked. With every word he spoke, a little more, until you were choking, feeling it break you much to your dismay.

You were looking at his chest with confusion and a set frown as your stomach twisted, and he tried a chuckle, “My love? Did I shock you?”

He raised his free hand from your waist to your cheek, but it never connected. You moved back, “I can’t.”

As soon as you breathed those words, you knew two things: you had made a terrible mistake, and you were going to break his heart.

“Can’t?” You could see something behind his eyes, yet he smiled sweetly again, “Maybe I was too abrupt and didn’t do things right. I thought you wouldn’t care for a fancy proposal or anything like that, but maybe—”

“No—” You frowned, “You’re right, you did nothing wrong.”

“Then what is it?” You could hear his nervousness and it was prickling your heart. “You always said you wanted to spend the rest of your days with me.”

You closed your eyes, and the avalanche fell on you, smothering you. You never lied, you did want that. If you had a whole life to live with him, you would, but you didn’t. You could feel it in your bones, “I just can’t.”

Your voice trembled as tears surfaced and you could see the fear in his eyes. You took a step back to think but he was already raising his arms, wishing to hold you but afraid to overstep a boundary right now.

“Wait, don’t— Don’t leave, I—” You could hear him trying to face this but your mind was blanking. Once reality hit you, there was no silver lining or saving grace to take shelter in. “Is it too soon?” He closed the box and hid it back inside his pocket, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I love you so much! I can’t picture my life without you.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of your sins making your tears fall, “This isn’t right.”

“But— Trust me, I just wanted to express that. For you to know that. For the whole world to know that I’m not going anywhere,” he cupped your cheeks and you cried because those are the exact words you had always wanted to hear. “I love you — everything about you. Who you were, who you are, who you’ll be. I’ll love you forever—”

“Please—” You asked, moving so you could hide in your hands and bawl.

He quieted down, careful not to overwhelm you but stayed by your side, brushing your arms to comfort you. Because that was Jimin — the kindest soul you knew. That was Jimin — always putting you above everyone, including himself.

You looked up at him, letting it sink further into the pit of your stomach. Jimin loved you; he had from the beginning.

You took a deep breath and got around him to get back inside, “This is all my fault.”

He followed you in, “What do you mean, your fault?”

“I’m sorry—”

“My love—”

“I can’t— I’m so sorry!” You gripped your hair and turned back to face him, so stung by sorrow and regret your tears weren’t stopping. “Let’s—” Your lips trembled; he was pale and hurt and lost, and seeing it anguished you. “I have to stop this now.”

He became paler than the walls, “Stop this?”

“Yes,” you nodded, devastated by your egotistical choices. “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry,” you rubbed your face and he stepped closer.

“What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t have, I— I’m so sorry!”

“Shouldn’t have what?”

He was so clearly confused; he helped you lower your arms so you’d face him.

“I shouldn’t have made you fall in love with me,” you confessed with your eyes set on his.

Your heart was drowning in regret and looking into his darling eyes, you knew you were wicked. You knew you would die sooner rather than later, just as you knew that you had wished for this — bargained for his love. Jimin was going to suffer for it regardless — you’d die soon and leave him magically forced to love you. Fuck, now you didn’t even know if that love was authentic! If the real Jimin would have loathed you, if every perfect moment between you was a deal by-product or genuine affection.

Now you couldn’t get it out of your head, not even when he smiled and cupped your cheeks, “My love, what are you saying? I would have always,” he brushed your cheeks and raised your chin so you would look at him. “I knew it the second I met you — you were it for me.”

You blinked, backtracking at the speed of light. You met him before the deal. You met him and were so caught up that you made the deal, wishing to spend the rest of your days loving him, unwilling to wait.

Maybe if you let things run their course it will happen.

You gasped mutely — you had ruined it. By forcing your demon’s hand and compelling Jimin to love you, you’d rushed things and adulterated something that could have blossomed naturally. You sullied his emotions for you, defiled his trust and profaned his heart and body. And you had done so willingly, begged for it because you’d rather live a short well-lived life on your terms than wait for the purity of his love.

You frowned; you didn’t deserve him. You should have never let him invest his heart in you, forced or otherwise. You’d just die and leave him behind to mourn.

“It’s my fault,” you finally said with a shaking voice, stepping back and away from his touch. “I’m so sorry, I—I’ll fix it.”

Jimin was bewildered, “Fix it? There’s nothing to fix.”

“There is, mim—” your lips trembled and you straightened your shoulders. “There is, and I promise you I’ll make it right.”

You turned away and grabbed your purse to leave and Jimin followed you, befuddlement turning to a mix of lividness and anger, “What?” You weren’t even looking at him as you dashed for the entry hall, “Our love isn’t something to be fixed, what are you—?”

“I’ll make it right! I promise!” You grabbed your coat and upon looking at him, couldn’t stop yourself. You drew near, cupping his cheeks gently as you looked deeply into his eyes, “I wish things would have been different.” Your voice broke but you wanted to say it, “Losing you is my biggest regret.”

He frowned and held your wrists, “You haven’t lost me.”

“Yet,” you smiled, with tears finally running down your face. “I will.” Your eyes fell on the bracelets shining under his hands and your lips twitched, “But I’ll make it right.” You looked up at him, “Be happy, Jimin. No matter what.”

You pulled your hands away and walked out the door quickly, grabbing your phone to call a driver. Jimin followed you out, asking you to wait, pleading with you to come inside and talk. You made your pleas too — for him to go back inside and to trust that you’d fix it, no matter the cost.

He saw you getting inside the car in defeat, exhausted from crying and trying to argue with you, but you wouldn’t budge or say anything further. It occurred to you as you were taken away that you could have told him how much he meant to you. How much you wished you had had a full life ahead with him and how happy you would have been. How certain you were that you’d have the greatest most affectionate life if that had been on the cards for you. Maybe you could have told him, if your demon was going to make him forget all about you anyway, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

You didn’t have the right. You went up inside the elevator to reach your apartment and the claustrophobia pressing you in made it even worse. You couldn’t stand to be with yourself right now, everything was wrong. You had been petty and selfish, but from your standpoint, you had only hurt people who had hurt you, if that. The least you could have done in your pathetic existence was to not fuck up someone as caring and kind as Jimin. To not become the type of person you loathed your whole life. At least you had a way to rectify your mistakes.

You barged through your apartment and threw your things over the couch, not wasting a beat to summon your demon.

“What?”

His dry and uninterested tone didn’t phase you and you went in the direction of his voice, “I fucked up.”

He was in your bedroom sitting on the chair where you had found him last time, six months before. He looked indifferent in his black suit, the long coat pooling around him as he leaned back on the chair with his eyes closed. You reached for the light instantly and he didn’t bat an eyelash.

“If the love birds are having a quarrel, then they should learn to fix it by themselves.”

“We didn’t—” You gritted your teeth before you asked, “I need you to make him forget about me.” He didn’t react or move; his expression was so flawless he could have been a marble statue. “I need you to annul every effect of my last wish, make it so he— we never met.”

“No refunds or takebacks.”

Your eyes widened in anger, “The fuck does that mean?!” He was still unchanged and you gripped your hair, “Just— Just make it so. I’ll pay whatever price.”

He finally opened his eyes. You could read nothing in them and it increased your anguish even more.

“I can’t do that.”

“What?” Your eyes widened in bewilderment, “Why?”

“It’s not a price you can pay.”

The air was kicked out of your lungs as you realized that the single year you had left was not enough to pay for the mistake you had made. 

Maybe because he had just shut the door on your face, but his indifference wasn’t sitting right with you. You closed your fists as the anger bubbled inside your chest, fed by a growing desperation and self-loathing as you had never felt before.

“Did you know?” You asked, your voice a single thread. “Did you know who he was?”

Part of you thought your demon would roll his eyes and vanish, but the other wasn’t surprised when he faced you and answered, “Define who.”

“Did you know about him?”

“Not precise enough.”

“Did you know he would love me?!”

You were leaning toward him screaming and he didn't even blink, “Yes.”

You threw your hands in the hair, “What the fuck!”

“I tried to warn you.”

Maybe if you let things run their course it will happen.

You turned your back and gritted your teeth.

“I told you you should wait.”

“You knew I wasn’t listening!” You spun around to scream the accusation and to your surprise, he was angry.

“It’s not my fucking job to make sure you don’t fuck up!”

Your heart shook but you wanted to scream, “You have before!”

“Well, I can’t keep saving you from yourself, can I?”

You chuckled and cleaned the tear crossing your cheek with trembling fingers. Your mind was blanking in your desperation; you didn’t know what to do.

“There are moments in life…,” he started, picking his words, “that are mostly set. Not everything, depending on choices, but certain crossroads must be crossed.”

You looked at him and felt the fear deep in your gut — fear at what he was going to say.

“There were many different paths laid up in front of you. One was to be tempted with a deal, another was to meet him.” You swallowed, dreading the way a freaking demon seemed sorrowful over the situation. “We call them fated loves — you were fated to meet. You could have lived a long happy life together.”

Your heart dropped despite beating agonizingly, “You mean— You mean if I hadn’t made a deal with you.”

“Yes.”

The world was spinning and you leaned against the sliding door behind you. It had all started with selling your soul. That was your first mistake.

“So the moment I made a deal with you…”

“You would still meet,” he clarified. “Just not live long and happily ever after. But then you pushed.”

The bile rose to your mouth and you grimaced. You tried breathing, “I would have died anyways, I— You—” You scrunched up your face and let the tears fall, “I should have never done that.”

He nodded and the sobs shook you as you tried not to bawl. Instead, you tried keeping a semblance of composure.

“I adulterated something that would have happened anyway into something that can never be pure again.” It hurt you so much you couldn’t breathe, “And I’ll die anyway, because of the deal. It would have been doomed from the start, there was no happily ever after!”

You hid your cries in your hands and let the desperation and desolation overrun you. There was no point to anything. You had systematically made the wrong choices. Jimin would have found you and helped you heal, but you fell into temptation so easily and stupidly. And now, you would never be happy, and worse, had condemned him to be miserable as well.

“He— When I pass, will he—?”

“Yes.”

The way you despised yourself could hardly be put into words.

“But you still have time,” he said, getting up from the chair under your desperate bloodshot eyes.

“You said I don’t.”

“Not for a new wish, but,” he neared you and you eyed him with suspicion. “To live the rest of your time.”

You let your head fall back, disdain seeping through your pores, “I’m not going to live my time left abusing someone who has been nothing but kind to me because he’s being coerced into loving and wanting to be with me!”

“He would have loved you anyway.”

“It’s not the same!” You threw your hands up and stepped away for air. “Fuck, I might be an egotistical bitch, but I won’t do that!”

“Are you sure?”

You raised an eyebrow, unappreciative of the taunt in his tone.

“One year is a long time to be lonely, and he would have loved you anyway.” You could hear him closer to you, speaking sweetly like the devil over your shoulder. “Since it happened,” he mused patiently, “you might as well enjoy it.”

“My love?”

Your eyes jumped up in fright, facing the living room of your apartment that, because of the open concept, allowed you to see all the way to the entrance. Jimin stood there, glancing around before his eyes fell on you. Instantly, his lines soothed as if he was seeing an angel incarnate and your guts twisted.

You turned your face and glared at your demon, “Stop it.”

He only tilted his head, it was Jimin who spoke, “There you are, I was looking for you.”

Your heart was shaking but you didn’t take your eyes off of your demon, “I said stop it.”

He was eying you back with an unreadable expression and yet, you could swear he knew exactly how you were feeling.

“Please, let’s talk about things,” Jimin pleaded and you almost broke. You almost bent to the need to beg for his forgiveness, however hearing him gave you even more courage to stay firm. You were going to fix this.

“Stop.”

The tension from your eye connection to your demon was rising to your neck, making you stiff, but then suddenly, it was gone. The tension and Jimin. Just like that, he blinked and looked down before the corner of his mouth twitched. You still weren’t taking your eyes off of him, and you were more set than ever to fix everything.

“I still have time,” you began more calmly than before. “I know you can do it.” He chuckled, showing a perfect set of white teeth, but you didn’t relent. “You’ve done more with less.”

“Oh, that’s true,” he conceded, laughing to himself before facing you. “But still, I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Rules.”

“Since when?!”

“There were always rules,” he raised an eyebrow.

“As if you cared!” You stepped toward him and faced him incredulously. “You broke the rules for me before.” His jawline hardened and he stayed quiet. “Deny it.” He stood still and you raised your hands to grab his blazer, “Come one, deny it!”

The sparkle of the bracelets betrayed him. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?!”

“Because this interferes with another soul, the price is much higher!”

You finally saw a spark of annoyance and took it, “But it’s my last request!”

“For a price you can’t pay!”

“You’re the one who decides the cost!! So make it something I can pay!”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Then just take me already!” You pulled him to almost crash into your chest and his jaw slacked, “Stop with this bullshit, stop giving me options and letting me fuck everything up, just make it all go away and take me, take everything away right—”

You didn’t realize that you wanted his kiss until he crashed his mouth to yours, but then you grabbed onto him with all your strength. You needed him to kiss you, to take you and consume you, and not just to fix the filthy abhorrent mess you had become. You realized you had chosen this path, with your demon, where your life was all shades of fucked up. Where you gave up on a naturally long life beside your fated love to instead be lazy and never lift a finger in your life again, not even for love.

You had already screwed everything up so you kissed him, burying your fingers in his hair. You were one to commit, especially to such gorgeous and powerful bad decisions.

The strength of his kiss was enough to sweep you off your feet and you were ready to literally jump on his lap or just die then and there. The way he was harshly pressing you to him and sinking what could only be claws into your skin made it all the more believable. However, with a twirl of his tongue against yours you instantly knew it had all fallen through. You knew he saw what you were doing and wanted you in some way or form, but not like this.

“I’ll take you,” he breathed, pecking your lips again. “In one year I’ll come for you.”

You were dizzy but still voiced, “Wait, one year? What about—”

“I can’t do it, kitten,” he said firmly, grabbing your jaw so you wouldn’t avoid the truth. “No matter how much you’d like me to.”

You instantly frowned and opened your mouth to contend with him when something happened that made you livid — he raised your hands to his lips to kiss them and your bracelets disappeared.

Something deep within you snapped for the second time today — you saw only red with the fury erupting through you.

“You would—” You could barely breathe. To lose the prospective of love was one thing, to know you fucked up your fate another, and the last drop could have been defiling Jimin’s heart, yet somehow this was what ignited you to throw everything away. “You don’t get to abandon me now,” you spewed. “I want what I want and you’ll do it for me. I know your name.”

He looked down at your mouth before searching deep into your eyes, and you realized then that he could never read your mind. He could guess your intentions, maybe even know you better than you did yourself in some ways, but couldn’t effectively just know your thoughts.

He squinted his eyes and you didn’t let him speak, “So do what I want and do it now.”

He let go of your hands then and scoffed in amusement, “My name?”

He suspected you were bluffing so you played your card. You started singing, “I guess I’m luckier than some folks.” His smile vanished. “I’ve known the thrill of loving you.” You could sense him stiffening. “And that alone is more than I was created for—” You paused, waiting for him to finish it. He didn’t. “‘Cause I was born to be blue.” 

You didn’t know what to expect because you never thought you’d get this far. It was something you had found out less than six months ago because of something he said, and how he said it. Truthfully, you never thought you’d do anything with it. Despite knowing spells that would hurt or destroy him, you never intended on using them under any circumstance. Not because Jimin was a wonderful influence on you, sadly, but because your demon was your comfort. The one who would always be there for you, no matter what, as he had in the past. The one who saved you, you admitted to yourself, seeing his eyes observing you in silence. Even if it was all fucked, who was to say you would have survived long enough to meet Jimin and get clean?

So now, on the other side of your anger, you were sad. Sad that all of this happened, and that you ended up having to resort to this.

You raised your eyes to him and seeing his silence, you whispered, “Yoongi.”

Saying it didn’t have the effect you anticipated. You thought it would bring him to his knees, not you.

Yet as soon as you said it, your soul was laid bare. You scrunched up your face with a deep agony emanating from all the tiny and large lacerations in your spirit and your legs collapsed. It hurt, everything hurt. Even though he was holding you, preventing you from falling, he’d now hate you too. And he wouldn’t even take you, no. Just to spite you, he’d abandon you just like you feared.

He dropped slowly to his knees with you in his arms and brushed your cheek tenderly, “I can’t.”

Your desperate eyes fixed on him, “Can’t or won’t?”

His features softened as he observed you calmly, “Won’t.”

You trembled and frowned, fury risking destroying everything again, “Even if I—”

Your voice died in your throat and you smiled despite the suffocation — you couldn’t do it. Not even out of spite or anger or desperation. You couldn’t threaten, hurt or destroy someone you loved, not the one who had ended up saving you. To the best of his abilities, anyway.

So you cried. You let the tears fall and wash the smallest of the stains littering your soul, a small corner in the grand scheme of things, and he held you. You didn’t have the heart to hurt him and as he embraced you and caressed your head lightly while you bawled into his shoulder, you realized he didn’t either.

You pulled away to look at him, seeing it so clearly in his eyes you wondered how you had never seen it before. “If Jimin was my fated love, then what are you?”

You thought he’d laugh or reply cynically, but his eyes didn’t change, “I can’t love.”

And against all odds, you laughed, “You're a terrible liar.”

He didn’t laugh, his lips didn’t even twitch. His dark eyes just stayed fixed on you, “One year, kitten. Make the best of it.”

[jeanjauthor]

Dude, if you have tomatoes in the bodega, they come with their own seeds.

Also:  Picture those shoppers and sidewalk...er...walkers.  Suddenly in a medieval environment.  Desperately wanting modern housing, rather than rat-infested medieval stuff.  A computer programmer who was at the bodega to pick up some chips figures out how to code with magic, talking with a plumber who was living in the area, they figure out how to use magic to re-plumb the building so hey, people have running water again--magic for the electricity, they have power!

It all starts when the plumber, in the bodega to pet his favorite neighborhood cat, helps the coder--who has no home, having been visiting from two blocks over because only that bodega carried his favorite brand of imported crisps--to find a place to stay with Old Man Pczensky on the 10th floor, in exchange for getting the young coder to carry Pczensky’s belongings up and down all 10 flights.  And that’s when the coder is like, “Okay, I gotta figure out how to code magic, cause I’m grateful for the spare bedroom, but seriously, EFF this stair-climbing shht!”

The yoga instructor whose boyfriend has been Out Of Work For Months gets upset with him and threatens to kick him out of her 3rd floor apartment completely if he Doesn’t Get A Job IMMEDIATELY, and the guy finds out that he has a talent for finding literal magical herbs, and not just “magic weed”, so he starts apprenticing with the village’s alchemist / apothecarist.

Meanwhile the yoga gal gets work at the local adventurer’s guild chapter teaching flexibility and de-stressing and balance-improving skills to passing adventurers...and accidentally activates her chakras with actual magic...which the coder notices and starts asking her to help him with his experiments in figuring out how magical coding works.  The BF gets a bit jealous, but it gets cleared up when the coder reveals he’s ace, not interested in the GF at all in That Way, and instead starts interrogating the BF about alchemical magic.

Meanwhile, the Nonna on the 7th floor has figured out knitting and crocheting magic (nobody even in this world knows how she did that), and is busy using said magic to create “power rune circles” out of her doilies.  Why?  Because she realized her cellphone charged when she placed it atop one of her doily table covers, so now she’s working her needles and hooks like mad to make her electricity run, so people start smelling Home-Baked Goods and are being driven nuts because their electricity isn’t working yet.

And then the coder and the yoga instructor and the Nonna get together and figure out how to design and knit-program a set of power generators that can convert sunlight > mana / magic > electricity...and suddenly the formerly quiet, firelight-and-candle lit village has this GLOWING TOWER next to it at night.

Oh, and the name of the apartment building?  Portal Tower (named after George Portal, the original building owner).

Everone in the village is convinced they’re a bunch of weird mages with weird special spellpowers that just...lost some of their spells for a while, but are slowly getting it back (as they get their electricity back).  And while some of the villagers are worried that these are all Secretly Evil Demonic Invader Beings...the rest are increasingly convinced these are Odd But Reasonably Good People, and sort of consider them like honorary mage-mascots, bringing them food supplies in exchange with help in repairing the mill wheel (because the building handyman is really good at mechanical structures like that), and so on and so forth.

“Yes, they glow at night and wear colors not naturally extracted from plant dyes, but you do get used to the sudden invisible minstrel performances...weird though said music may sound... And they have these interesting games, far more complex than chess or nine-man-morris.” "Yes, I quite like the stick-stacking one, Jenga or whatever it's called." "I love the magical picture plays, though I'm not sure why they keep calling that elven fellow a 'vull-can' or whatever."

isekai about a nyc apartment block getting teleported into a fantasy realm, and how this group of people who previously have only had incidental contact with one another come together to build a vibrant community in their new circumstances. there's a season-long arc about introducing bagels and pizza to the fantasy world that gets into the details of sourcing ingredients, developing new technologies, and learning how to work with supernatural substitutions.

[learning-needle-lace]

After doing some measuring, I found max height the lace could be for the choker was 2 inches. I scaled my reference image down to 2 inches, traced it, and then decided to do a quick test run to see if my thread would even let me go this small.

I knew the answer was almost certainly no, and that if by some miracle it would work, it would have to be done on a single line of cordonnet thread and have no filling stitches.

Standard needle lace practice is to double the cordonnet thread to make it easier to interlock different pieces of the cordonnet and give it that traditional thick outline look.

I had concerns about my cordonnet turning out thicker than I wanted in my last project and managed to do a continuous line of single cordonnet successfully. However, I think in this piece being able to interlock the cordette is going to be really important.

While I was able to roughly buttonhole some of it, it was not at the scale I wanted. The thread looked too bulky compared to the size of the design. At this scale, I would need a smaller thread size. I don't want to buy a new thread, don't have anything smaller on hand, and am not confident enough in my skill set yet to take on anything smaller than size 20, so a choker is out of the options.

I still love the choker idea, but it's not realistic for my current materials or skill level. When I use more of my 20 thread and become more confident in my skill set, I will likely come back to this.

For now, I am going to use the palmette-lotus chain to make a doily. Unlike my original post stated, I do think I will be including the outer framing bits as I did in this tracing.

[fernthewhimsical]

Travel altar challenge

I love making small altars to take with me, I have quite a few, but lately I've been feeling the itch to make a new one. @breelandwalker posted an article that really jumpstarted the creative process again. So I present to you: the travel altar challenge! I broke up the steps to creating a pocket altar into 19 weeks (or days if you have the spoons) and I'm planning on making a new travel/pocket altar for myself.

Will you join me in the challenge?

The list below is my basic list with some ideas added to hopefully inspire you. Feel free to leave out what doesn't work for you, add what you're missing and do things out of order if needed. Every number is a day/week, depending on if you want to go fast or slow.

pick a theme and/or purpose: This can either be for a specific power or deity, or can be for a specific kind of magic, such as sea witchery or kitchen witchery. You can also choose for a specific purpose instead, such as when you’re staying in a hotel/family home, or one that fits into your planner. Or if you want to make it more challenging, your theme can be the Starry Night by van Gogh, or an altar completely made of paper or clay.

make a list of what must be on/in an altar What are the necessities you need when practising magic? What would you like the altar to have?

choose a container Now that you have your list of necessities, you can guess a bit how big of an altar you need. You can choose a box, altoid tin, jewellery case, cosmetics case, crocheted bag, whatever you can think of.

decorate the outside if needed/wanted

decorate the inside if needed/wanted

representation of deity/spirit/animal/mythological creature/yourself a small focal icon for your altar. This can be an artwork glued into the lid or on a scrabble tile, a carved bead, a small statue made from clay, or simply a picture of yourself. Get creative!

divination method a tiny divination method that fits the altar. Think tiny tarot cards, a pendulum from a shell or ring, tiny runestones.

cleansing method this can be a herb blend that you sprinkle around, a cleansing spray, incense

offering blend either for your deities/spirits, or for the world around you as a thank you for using the space.

charging/anointing oil or water for when you need to make something you found – or yourself – more sacred or powerful

representation of the elements painted rocks or wooden disks, a feather, a leaf, a candle, and a shell, or instead of the elements something for the seasons, or the phases of the moon.

a SAFE candle holder and candle Fire safety is important, especially when you wish to use it outside or in someone else’s space.

incense something fragrant to set the tone. And again, fire safety is important!

altar cloth a thrifted scarf, a doily, a scrap of fabric, something to create a working surface with.

add a text/prayer/poem this can be on the inside of the lid, rolled up as part of the offering blend on a tiny piece of paper, or simply folded up as a reminder and to read aloud.

representations for your altar/sacred space boundaries painted stones or wooden disks, shells, specific crystals, anything to make a ring of protection for you and your work

add some beads prayer/focus beads, power jewellery, or strands of beads for charging, or perhaps a witch’s ladder.

Put it all together is there something you’re missing? Did you have everything on your list? Or are some things too big and do they need to be switched out?

Cleanse and charge your new altar!

Please join me in being creative this spring. Tag me if you make something, I would love to see it and share it with the rest of witchblr.

[lightlyknitted]

Start crafting on a budget

So you want to get into knitting/crochet or any number crafts and don’t know where to start? Or you’re on a budget and worried about spending a bunch of money on something you might not like?

There are a few places you can go to find discounted supplies. It will take just a little bit of work and dedication to get there. I’ve listed a few places to start below in order from what I think are cheapest to more expensive.

Local buy nothing groups

Hands down, the cheapest way but might take the longest. If you have a facebook profile (or make one specifically for the groups), asking a local for free and for sale or buy nothing can be a great place to get a start. Just remember to be polite and follow the group rules and it could lead to some good bargains. Because these groups are heavily dependent on you I can’t really recommend any good ones. Even in craft supplies don’t pop up in these groups my local free and for sale groups often help me find #2.

2. Yard sales/Estate Sales

Yard sales or Estate Sales can often be a treasure hunt, much like buy nothing groups. If I am looking for vintage materials or simply older craft supplies I will prioritize Estate Sales. This is because of an important distinction, estate sales generally happen after a death or a sudden move. Estate sales can have good deals but it’s important to remember this doesn’t always happen – some estate sale organizers will raise prices if something has a high resale value online. Generally I haven’t seen a big increase in yarn or already finished projects.

(One estate sale I went to even offered doilies and linens up by the bag.)

Yard sales can have a good selection but it’s important to know that this doesn’t always mean unused craft supplies. If you find one of these listings online, it would be a very good idea to check any photos listed or the description to see if you see supplies that might interest you. For some yard sales, you can try haggling, I am not sure on estate sales, but that might depend on who’s running it.

3. Second Hand stores

Second hand stores can include your local thrift stores and or chain thrift stores (ie Goodwill, Salvation Army ect). These stores will vary each week in what is offered, in person. Prices are generally good, it can depend on your location and who’s running it. I’ve found that the chain stores have raised their prices to be a bit more for yarn bags than they used to be but some mom and pop shops will give you bags for cheap.

Another option is to go the online second hand store route, like Ebay, Craigslist or shopgoodwill.com. Ebay can be good for lots of things and for more vintage patterns / old and out of date booklets. A lot of the things on these stores might not be brand new or fresh but might be a bit cheaper than starting fresh.

4. Dollar Store

Now, if you have a Dollar Store near you there is a good chance they’ll have a decent starter selection of yarn and knitting needles and crochet hooks. There are a few different types of yarn and because each ball is $1.25. I wouldn’t recommend this for the long term for at least normal acrylic because it’s a bit more expensive to shop the Dollar Tree than the sale section of a box store.

The needles and hooks are pretty limited in sizes so I highly recommend looking at a second hand shop for those.

5. Sale section of your local big box store

The sale section of an online retailer or big box store is another great place to look for discount craft supplies. The yarn selection can be great and the coupons can be used for other notions. I personally like Joann's or Michael's for big box stores but for online retailers I like knit picks. Your local yarn store (if you have one near you), is also a great place to get help or find other crafters. Some even carry budget friendly yarns. (I personally like Berroco as a budget yarn!)

[sirfrogsworth]

Photo Restoration Part 3: Dealing with Dongs

I think a major theme of Part 3 is going to be "direct flash is my arch nemesis" with a touch of "you can't save every photo."

Here we have a group shot taken with direct flash... my arch nemesis.

The flash got nearly everyone but there was a drastic falloff of light for the girl on the left. Beyond that, everyone's skin tones were wildly inconsistent because they were either closer or farther from the light source. And in these situations, you just have to dig in and and start fixing faces one by one.

With the new people selection tool, Lightroom will detect every single person in this photograph and let me adjust them individually. It can separate hair, face, lips, skin, and clothing. And if the photo is zoomed enough, you can even adjust the whites of the eyes and the iris individually.

That facial sunburn you see is Lightroom detecting her face and letting me adjust it in isolation.

-----------------------------

There is an expression "God is in the details."

Due to being a heathen, I've been meaning to find a new expression that means roughly the same thing. Let me workshop a few ideas right quick...

Micromanaging pixels delivers a superior cumulative result.

Your deity of choice resides in the numerous small adjustments that deliver a superior end product.

Obsessing over things people may not notice makes things more gooder.

I'm sure I'll figure it out.

Basically it means if you do a bunch of tiny things they will add up to create a big overall effect.

So, you may not even notice the sunlight is bouncing off the green grass and turning all the metal on the swingset green. But when I take that reflected green light away from the metal it just makes a little more sense to the brain.

And you may not have noticed that the detail in the flower on Katrina's head was completely gone, but your brain just feels a little more satisfied when it is restored.

Okay, how about this...

"Attention to detail makes the brain go tingle."

It almost rhymes and everything!

Alright, fine. God can stay in the details.

-----------------------------

Sometimes the best thing you can do for a photo is make sure that people can see the thing. If there is a thing that really needs to be seen, you have to crank up whatever dials you have at your disposal to make it the star of the photo. And in this case, the star is Grandma's giant hand-made doily...

That's a fine looking D.O.U.S. (Doily of Unusual Size).

All of that intricate detail is still in the photo. It's just a bit lost and needs to be found. The clarity and texture sliders in Lightroom are great for enhancing small details without getting those crunchy artifacts sharpening filters can manifest.

-----------------------------

Distractions!

Avoiding distractions is probably one of the most important aspects of photography and photo editing. And in this photo we have a giant car sized distraction.

With the car, this photo becomes dated. The make and model and year of that car give away a time period when everything else in the photo is almost timeless. So, removing the car seems like the best thing to do for this photo.

In the past, I probably would have employed a mixture of techniques to delete the car. Cloning, content aware fill, the patch tool—I would have found places in other spots of the photo that looked similar to that spot in the photo and just massaged it until it looked correct. A very tedious and time consuming process.

Or I would have cropped the photo if I was tired.

But with Adobe's new generative fill, I can just circle the car and hit a button. And it does an incredible job of filling in that space with perfectly matched dirt and rocks and shrubbery.

Now the photo looks like it could have been taken in the 40s or 50s or 60s.

-----------------------------

My nemesis is back. Back with a vengeance.

Direct flash, you are killing me.

Sometimes you have to accept that you cannot get the image to where you wish it could be and focus on what you can do to improve it. Identify the major issues and then problem solve how you can mitigate them.

The big issues in this photo...

Overexposed.

Skin tones are wildly varied due to distance from light.

Hard shadows that are very distracting.

Bright background causing poor subject separation.

That lady's giant hair.

And a bonus issue that only lives in my mind...

The flash overpowered the light on the right hand side and it doesn't look like it is turned on.

So, I reduced the overall exposure, evened out all of the skin tone issues one face at a time, reduced the background exposure, and I did my best to eliminate those distracting hard shadows.

Unfortunately, the woman on the left had dark hair that was mixing with the shadow and I had a very hard time differentiating what was hair and shadow.

I tried many different techniques to make her beautifully 80s large ball of hair look like it had a natural edge, but I just couldn't make it work with the energy I had.

But did you see the light? LOOK AT THE LIGHT!

So, yeah... I couldn't completely fix this photo, but I could make the light more light-y.

-----------------------------

Well, poop.

Direct flash.

Again.

In this photo the main issue is loss of detail due to overexposure. The light in the windows and the light in the white clothing was too intense and blew out to pure white. In the past there wasn't actually much that could be done about this. But with the magic of generative fill, this can be addressed.

Am I talking too much about generative fill? IT IS JUST SO HELPFUL, OKAY?

So I went around to each little patch of window and asked Photoshop to just fill it with general shrubbery. But I also went in on the dress and the flower crown and asked Photoshop to fill that in with a texture.

-----------------------------

Here we have a Greek castle or fort or... ancient structure.

This one was fairly straightforward. But there was no sky detail at all and there was a haze toward the top of the castle. Lightroom has a relatively new slider called "dehaze" and I thought, "maybe I should try that." And... it totally worked! Always happy when something does what it says on the tin.

Photoshop also has a newer feature that automatically inserts a new sky. And because everything needs to be monetized, if you want access to additional skies you have to buy a sky bundle. Before you know it they will be selling subscriptions to skies. Perhaps a sky-of-the-month club.

Thankfully the feature also lets you import your own skies, so one day I am going to sort through every interesting sky I have ever photographed to avoid all of this buy-a-sky malarky.

-----------------------------

Next up we have an adorable family outing that was tarnished by some lewd graffiti.

There is always some dick drawing dicks to dick up your photographs.

Thankfully this is an easy job for content aware fill.

Did you think I was going to say generative fill? Because I am in love with generative fill and want to marry it?

Generative fill can take ~20 seconds to do its thing and I usually reserve it for more complicated tasks. Content aware fill is actually a very powerful way to remove simple things from photos and works nearly instantly.

Though I wonder if this tool was really "aware" of what it was covering up.

But then a little devil on my shoulder influenced me to go another way with this photo.

Photoshop can erase, but it can also... create!

Did you find all 6?

I originally meant to send this to Katrina as a prank. But I accidentally sent it to my Aunt Denise instead.

Thankfully my aunt is very cool and maybe a little oblivious to penis graffiti.

And then I had to tell Katrina that I sent the prank to my aunt instead of her.

And I'm pretty sure she is laughing *at* me and not *with* me, but as long as people are laughing I am happy.

Also, I think autocorrect changed bonafide from bonerfide and ruined Katrina’s amazing pun. Apple is just killing all of our jokes. 

-----------------------------

Distractions! Again!

One of the core teachings in any beginner photography class is to minimize distractions and draw attention towards your subject. And I just felt this scene was very busy and drew attention away.

So, I deleted half of the people.

Am I... am I Thanos?

-----------------------------

Last photo!

This is probably the stereotypical image people think of when it comes to photo restoration. It has all of the classic photo trauma. Torn edges, a giant crease, washed out contrast.

We can rebuild it! We have the technology!

The only thing I couldn't fix was that nobody had eyeballs. There were just blank voids where their eyes should be.

And I wondered to myself, "Perhaps A.I. has become advanced enough to restore these folks' eyeballs."

Ummmmm...

Errrrrrrr...

You know what... the voids were fine.

So, that is the end of this photo restoration journey. I hope you found this interesting. If you want to see all of the before and after photos, I made a Flickr gallery here. There is a small icon at the top of the page that looks like a computer monitor with a play button inside—that is the slideshow function which makes it very easy to flip back and forth.

And if you are in need of restoration services please feel free to send me a message. Just know that not every photo is a good candidate—though most photos can be improved to some degree.

Photo Restoration Project - Part 1

A long time ago, Katrina sent me some old photos of her family I could restore. Her parents have been helping me from afar for years and I really wanted to do something nice for them. Unfortunately my dad got much worse and I pretty much forgot about this project for quite some time.

But then I decided to visit Katrina in Orlando and we discussed having dinner with her parents and I remembered these photos. So I thought I would fix them up so I could present them as a gift in person.

The first and most important photo was from her parents wedding.

Old photo prints can fade over time due to UV light exposure. From what I understand, different colors fade at different rates and red/orange tones tend to be the least susceptible to this fading. Thankfully all of the color information is still there, it's just that the darks are not as dark and the lights are not as light. The dynamic range got squeezed like an accordion. However, if you do a levels adjustment on the red, blue, and green channels individually, you can unsqueeze the accordion and balance everything back to the way it was.

But you can't always save everything and there may be other damage that needs fixing. If something becomes pure white, there is no way to restore that detail. Thankfully I was able to use the new generative fill feature to bring back detail in the dress, the flowers, and the tuxedo shirt.

And because I hate front facing flash and how it makes colors look ugly and sterile, I may have also added a marble floor and pillars.

Next up was a photo of Anastasia, Katrina's mom, protesting Henry Kissinger on behalf of her home country of Greece. This suffered from the same color fading issues.

What made this one a little more tricky was an uneven fading. The left side had to be adjusted independently and the top was even more faded. I had to isolate the trees to bring back their color. And the protest signs were difficult to read, so I enhanced those as well.

Next we have this lovely photo of Anastasia tending to some house plants.

This photo was actually in decent shape. It lost a little contrast, had a little bit of fading, and her top retained almost no detail I could recover. Recovering accurate skin tones is probably one of the most important skills I learned when restoring these photos. I wanted to keep that filmic look of the era while avoiding making people look jaundiced or pale. Lightroom's new masking feature that let's you isolate every aspect of the people it detects in a photo. This made fixing skin tones much easier. I could isolate just her face or her lips or her hair or her eyes and make precise individual adjustments. This process could have taken a great deal longer without this feature. But, I brought back proper contrast and color, added a little bit of detail to her top with gen fill, and hopefully got fairly accurate skin tones as well.

Next up, forward facing flash strikes again in a photo of Mike and Anastasia during Christmas.

Film did not do well in low light. If it was indoors and nighttime, you pretty much had no choice but to use flash. But a flash is a very small, bright light source and this causes a very unflattering result on humans. Today we have much more powerful flashes with rotating heads. We can bounce the light into the ceiling or off a wall and increase the size of the light source to get a more flattering result.

In this photo I wasn't able to do much, so I just balanced the skin tones and brought out some hidden detail and called it a day. It's still a lovely memory and thankfully film has such character that it negates a lot of the unflattering aspects of direct flash.

Next up is some cuteness...

A big priority when editing photos is to make sure the subjects are the star of the photo. And in this one their faces were a bit obscured in shadow. There was also a lot of haze in the background hiding the beautiful vista. Not to mention when I cleared that haze, there was this super faint hint of something in the sky. I can't tell if it was a rainbow, but I decided to believe it was a rainbow. The only thing that I am still struggling with, and this seems to be common with a lot of old photos, is green. Getting a good, saturated, natural green to look right has been very difficult. Everything I try ends up looking toxic or fake. The only thing that ends up looking right with the rest of the photo is more of a yellow-y brown. It's something I'll have to work on as I learn, but as long as the overall photo looks balanced and natural, I'm okay with not perfectly nailing the greens.

Up next we have a lovely scene on a Greek dock...

As far as editing goes, this was pretty basic. I just undid the fading, adjusted the skin tones, replaced the blown-out sky, and made the colors pop. But I think this is actually one of my favorite before and after shots. I just love how such a simple fix brought this scene to life.

A new car is a big deal and Anastasia looks so proud here...

This image has another common issue in addition to the typical fading of colors. It has a yellowish orange color cast. This could have been an issue with the film used or the development process or a chemical reaction on the print. A color cast is a lot like looking through colored glasses. It's like a translucent color material was put on top of the image. This can be a little trickier to deal with, but if you know your color theory, you might already know the solution. Blue is the opposite of yellow/orange on the color wheel, so if you introduce blue to the image it should balance out. Also, add a sky if it was missing.

Next up we have a landscaping project...

This one wasn't too tricky, but there was one interesting issue I had to address. All light has a color temperature. Daylight has a temperature of around 5500K. But the inside of the garage was being lit by reflected light and so that light took on the color temperature of the things it was bouncing off of. So I had to mask out the people and the car and address the color temperature inside the garage to make everything look balanced. Also, the green fought me hard on this one. And with the theme of this picture being plants, I felt I really needed to find a tone that worked. I think I finally got there, but I spent way too much time in the color picker doing trial and error of green tones. Also, new sky.

With this next one I actually did a pretty thorough explanation of how I edited it. But this was probably my favorite puzzle to solve from this collection of photos.

I'll do the abridged explanation...

The physical photograph was printed on a paper with a very heavy texture. And when it was scanned, the light from the scanner bounced off that texture and created a pattern of unwanted highlights.

I was worried this was impossible to fix and I almost gave up on this photo. But after one final Google search I discovered something called "Fast Fourier Transform." It's a mathematical formula that can be used to detect patterns. And the image editing software Affinity Photo, just so happens to have a filter called FFT denoise that helps you remove unwanted patterns from scanned photos.

And thanks to that filter, I was able to remove a substantial amount of that pattern...

Then I did my standard clean up techniques...

Oh, and I decided to try learning how to colorize.

Photoshop has a new set of experimental filters and a colorization tool is one of them. It is not great yet, but it is a great starting place. Instead of having to hand paint every single thing in the photo, Photoshop gave me a base to work with and I could take it from there with traditional techniques.

That's all I have the energy for today, but there are a bunch of cool restorations to talk about. Hopefully you all find this interesting. It was such a great gift to give to Katrina's parents. And spending that time with them and making them happy felt like I was with my own parents again. So we all got a gift in that wonderful evening.

Part 2 coming as soon as I have the energy!

[mrsdoctordear]

14 Times Anne and Phil’s Friendship Was Better Than Anne and Diana’s

You can slander me for that title, but I love Anne’s friendship with her college chum, Phil Gordon, for many reasons; but to name one, it brought out Anne’s quick wit. She didn’t spend all those years with Marilla without adopting a little bit of her sense of humor.

Anne and Phil were often very candid and harshly (but hilariously) sarcastic in a way that she and Diana never were. Diana was her friend from her days of youth and innocence—and it retained those sweet, light-hearted elements through adulthood. You wouldn’t catch Anne snipping Diana with a bit of sarcasm, because if she did, Diana—who hadn’t much of a sense of humor—would take it personally.

"Myra Gillis had thirty-seven doilies when she was married and I'm determined I shall have as many as she had."

"I suppose it would be perfectly impossible to keep house with only thirty-six doilies," conceded Anne, with a solemn face but dancing eyes.

Diana looked hurt.

"I didn't think you'd make fun of me, Anne," she said reproachfully.

"Dearest, I wasn't making fun of you," cried Anne repentantly. "I was only teasing you a bit."

Anne could freely fire off witty remarks with Phil without fear of hurting any feelings—in fact, Phil could give as good as she got. They had an entirely different dynamic than any friendships in the first two books, and it was refreshing.

Another reason why their friendship was so rich was because they weren’t afraid to be honest with each other. Nothing was surface level with them—each unabashedly called the other out on their misgivings, with only their best interests at heart.

Here are 14 times Anne and Phil were # classic literature friendship goals.

1. When Phil adored Anne and just loved to be adored by her

"Anne, please tell me over again that you like me a little bit. I yearn to hear it."

"I like you a big bit—and I think you're a dear, sweet, adorable, velvety, clawless, little—kitten," laughed Anne.

2. When Phil knew before Anne even admitted it to herself that she cared for Gilbert

"I'd marry Gilbert Blythe if he were rich."

"Oh, would you?" said Anne, rather viciously.

"We don't like that idea a little bit, although we don't want Gilbert ourselves, oh, no," mocked Phil.

3. And when Anne knew this and played it to her advantage

"And I depended so on you to help me make up my mind which of them I should promise to marry," mourned Phil.

"You must do that for yourself. You are quite expert at making up your mind as to whom other people should marry," retorted Anne, rather caustically.

4. When Anne knew Phil better than she knew herself

"I shall never forgive you, Queen Anne, for not coming home with me for the holidays."

"'Never' means three days with you, Phil."

5. When Anne inspired Phil with some words on family and love

"There'll be love there, Phil—faithful, tender love, such as I'll never find anywhere else in the world—love that's waiting for me. That makes my picture a masterpiece, doesn't it, even if the colors are not very brilliant?"

Phil silently got up, tossed her box of chocolates away, went up to Anne, and put her arms about her.

"Anne, I wish I was like you," she said soberly.

6. And when Phil tried to show Anne the importance of lightening up

"Do you think you'll be able to shirk unpleasant things all your life, Phil?"

"Dear me, no. Am I not up against them now? You don't call Alec and Alonzo pleasant things, do you, when they simply plague my life out?"

"You never take anything seriously, Phil."

"Why should I? There are enough folks who do. The world needs people like me, Anne, just to amuse it."

7. When Phil teased Anne about her crush, as friends do

"Royal Gardner!" she exclaimed. "Why, Anne, I didn't know you were acquainted with Roy Gardner!"

"I met him in the park this afternoon in the rain," explained Anne hurriedly. "My umbrella turned inside out and he came to my rescue with his."

"Oh!" Phil peered curiously at Anne. "And is that exceedingly commonplace incident any reason why he should send us longstemmed roses by the dozen, with a very sentimental rhyme? Or why we should blush divinest rosy-red when we look at his card? Anne, thy face betrayeth thee."

8. When Anne basically told Phil to drop dead

"Anne, I'm horribly afraid Jonas doesn't really care anything about me. And I'm trying to decide whether I'll pine away and die, or go on and get my B.A. and be sensible and useful."

"You couldn't possibly be sensible and useful, Phil, so you'd better pine away and die," said Anne cruelly.

"Heartless Anne!"

"Silly Phil! You know quite well that Jonas loves you."

9. And when she was ever-so-sympathetic to Phil’s academic woes

"I wish I were dead, or that it were tomorrow night," groaned Phil.

"If you live long enough both wishes will come true," said Anne calmly.

10. Whenever Phil called Anne by the endearing nickname, “Queen Anne”

"I owe you a grudge, Queen Anne. I really ought to hate you and instead I love you madly, and I'm miserable if I don't see you every day."

"Bolingbroke would go wild over you, Queen Anne—your hair and your style and, oh, everything! You're so different."

"Queen Anne, you're as queenly as ever."

11. When Anne turned from Phil mid-conversation and delivered a deadpan remark about her to an inanimate object

"You'll have to give up a good many things you've always had, when you marry Mr. Blake, Phil."

"But I'll have him. I won't miss the other things. We're to be married a year from next June. Jo graduates from St. Columbia this spring, you know. Then he's going to take a little mission church down on Patterson Street in the slums. Fancy me in the slums! But I'd go there or to Greenland's icy mountains with him."

"And this is the girl who would never marry a man who wasn't rich," commented Anne to a young pine tree.

12. When Phil called Anne out for being overly romantic

"You don't know love when you see it. You've tricked something out with your imagination that you think love, and you expect the real thing to look like that."

13. But later comforted her after heartbreak with some wise words

"Roy despises me—and you despise me—and I despise myself."

"You poor darling," said Phil, melting. "Just come here and let me comfort you. I've no right to scold you. I'd have married Alec or Alonzo if I hadn't met Jo. Oh, Anne, things are so mixed-up in real life. They aren't clear-cut and trimmed off, as they are in novels."

14. And finally, the best of all, when Phil was responsible for getting Anne and Gilbert together after all

"I don't see how you could keep on loving me when I was such a little fool," said Anne.

"Well, I tried to stop," said Gilbert frankly, "not because I thought you what you call yourself, but because I felt sure there was no chance for me after Gardner came on the scene. But I couldn't—and I can't tell you, either, what it's meant to me these two years to believe you were going to marry him, and be told every week by some busybody that your engagement was on the point of being announced. I believed it until one blessed day when I was sitting up after the fever. I got a letter from Phil Gordon—Phil Blake, rather—in which she told me there was really nothing between you and Roy, and advised me to 'try again.' Well, the doctor was amazed at my rapid recovery after that."

[daintydoilypon]

I would like to inquire info about your custom species: Doily pons. The males, do they also get the fur pattern and does it expand with age or maturity? Also do doilies have a set expansion patterns? Or is it a bit wild and you just start with doily on your butt and then it "grows" down onto the nethers then pelvis then belly? Important lore questions.

[windona]

@mr-crocodile requested this for his birthday. Happy birthday!

The Parisan cafe was lit with a warm, yellow glow. It was an elegant place, with doilies, fine china, and a view of the Eiffel tower that Garfield made sure he had his back turned towards. He tried to slump his shoulders and play it cool, like in the latest audition he had done for a roll, but his right hand was playing relentlessly with his phone in his pocket.

It had been weird, to ask a girl for a date at a funeral, right? But talking then, they felt such a connection, knew each other so well, and...

Well. Here he was. She was in town for a diplomatic conference. The details of the talks were beyond him, but he had gotten the important bit down.

Hopefully she would not stand him up.

The clock on the wall ticked. He had five minutes. Play it cool.

He ordered a pot of fancy tea.

Three minutes before the agreed upon time, she entered. She was not dressed in the black silk dress she had worn at the funeral, nor the fancy outfit she had shown up to the conference at. There she was, tank top and jeans, not at all looking like a stuffy royal.

She never could, in Garfield’s opinion.

Her body guards came in shortly after, in plainclothes. It was frankly amazing that nobody else picked up on the way their eyes subtly scanned the room, or the hidden weapons they had.

Looking back, Gar appreciated the way the light from the window hit her blonde curls and turned them gold, and how her smile inched up across her face.

“Hello Garfield,” she said, and right then and there he fell just a bit more in love.

“H-hi, Perdy.”

She giggled. “So, any recommendations?”

“Never been here before... but a friend recommended the petit fours. And, uh, I ordered a pot of tea for both of us. Since you said you liked it.”

“Sounds perfect.”

[nerditudes]

"Doctor? I was called doctor once." He mused offhandedly, shutting the bookshop door once they were both inside. The sign was changed from closed to definitely closed. Aziraphale had a mystery on his hands. A stranger who looked like Crowley dropping out of the sky-- out of the blue.

"Tea? Yes. Quite. Right." The Angel responded, scampering to the backroom to busy himself with making refreshments. He might have taken a few shortcuts-- miracle-ing the kettle to boil almost instantly and restocking the teabags he'd forgotten to refill.

He arranged the teapot, a pair of cups, some sugar and cream in matching ceramic, a plate of various eccles cakes, and a small arrangement of tea with a tea ball at the ready for use.

It was all beautifully arranged with complementary doilies and a tiny little vase with a few fake flowers in it.

Aziraphale was a perfectionist, through and through.

Bringing the tray out he set it down on a coffee table, gesturing to a nearby chair where the Doctor could make himself comfortable.

"Please help yourself. Indulge in the books, if you wish-- I must go make a rather important call." He gestured toward the tray, waving his hand to brighten up the bookshop a bit, as the lights were rather dim until this point.

Without another word he scampered off to the phone in the back room-- he had to talk to Crowley. Get him here.

Hearing him call him sir, he almost say yes. Technically he was. But he didn't go around telling people to call him sir. The Doctor opened the door and stepped inside before he answered him. "Just call me Doctor." He told him.

The Doctor glanced around once in the bookshop. He made his way over and put on his glasses before picking up a book. When he picked up another one. "Why are these books in order of the first word of it? Not by title or author?" He asked, looking up at him. He looked back at the book in his hand.

When he asked about a drink, he smiled. "Tea please." He said to him. "Always like a good cup of tea." The Doctor told him. "And maybe I will have a cake or two." He said.