#would this have been a better/more appropriate post to make yesterday?

[notsodelirious]

Secret, unknown languages

synopsis: you’re having a hard time adapting to big changes

notes: SFW, this is the second version of the reader losing their hearing prompt that I promised and then just never posted but here you go :3

tags: hearing loss, Jason Todd being a sweetheart, ASL, hurt/comfort, 1k words

also tried to keep the ASL as close to actual ASL as possible but a) I’m British and know more BSL than ASL and b) ASL isn’t really a written language so kudos to my friend for helping me out

anyway, enjoy and here’s my masterlist <3

initial prompt and response

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

“Babe,” Jason called as he waved at you, but you remained oblivious to his attempts, scrolling aimlessly through your photo gallery for a stupid meme your friend couldn’t herself. “Babe.”

He didn’t raise his voice—the neighbours would file another noise complaint because they never cared enough to figure out why anybody was speaking loudly.

He picked up a small mouse toy at his feet–a very generous gift from your cat before he decided to fuck off into your bedroom–and chucked it at your head, watching as you looked up mildly disgruntled at having a half-chewed cat toy thrown at your face.

“Yeah?”

“… you filed?” he asked, and you only frowned.

“What did I file?”

‘INTERVIEW ????.’

Your face scrunched further, as if you had just bitten into a rotten lemon.

You repeated the sign with a frown.

Your irritation wasn’t his fault—it wasn’t his fault he was already fluent in the language, that his father and brother had drilled multiple languages, including ASL, into his little child noggin, and you just weren’t there yet.

But it was still frustrating—endlessly so.

‘TRANSCRIPTS,’ he fingerspelt, and your shoulders dropped a little when the whole picture finally clicked into place.

“What do you want with the interview transcripts?”

‘WHERE?’

“Cabinets,” you said, pointing towards the appropriate cabinets under the TV. He thanked you quickly before he slipped off his chair to find the file he needed.

You set your phone down as you watched him crouch and rifle through papers, irritation still niggling in the back of your skull.

It didn’t have to take that long—it shouldn’t have taken that long. You didn’t have time for it to always take that long.

Where did you put the interview transcripts you filed?

That had been the whole question. It was a stupidly simple question.

And yet.

It worked out and you knew it had worked out and that was the important part but that didn’t make it any less frustrating—never in your life had you had such a huge gap in communication—when you were a child, people understood the gap, learning to speak for the first time, you expect to be patient, explain, repeat, slow down, change language; but you were an adult, people expected you to have had your entire life to practice communicating.

And you were losing it.

You knew you had missed the first, second, third, fourth, nth time he had called your name, nickname, legal name, pet name, anything to grab your attention, but it fell on deaf ears.

Deafening ears.

It sucked ass; losing oral communication, all the while still being behind on sign language. On bad days, it made you want to tear your hair out and cry and grieve.

On good days, just grumpy.

Jason looked up at you as he returned to his seat.

‘OK?’

You shrugged.

“Want to get better at sign.” He regarded you for a moment, tossing the manila folder on the table before kneeling in front of you.

“You’re already doing …”

You sighed, rubbing your temples, closing your eyes momentarily before opening your eyes again. There had been a shoot-out yesterday—you might have been part of the problem. You hadn’t gotten hit—thank fuck or Jason might have wrung your neck for being so careless—but it had left your ears aching and the world just a little more muffled than before.

Not quite bad enough for Jason to stop speaking to you—but your lip reading was just as shit as your signing.

‘AGAIN?’

“You’re already doing great,” he repeated, signing along with his words, “It’s a language, practice.”

Your face soured again, and he offered his hands, rough and calloused—they held so much power and yet held your own hands so gently, like he feared he would hurt you, or restrict you.

You squeezed back quickly before pulling away.

‘LONELY.’

You had been told it was what you deserved—after a lifetime of inflicting pain, handling a gun without proper protection, it was a foreseen consequence.

You’d always known, ever since your ears first began ringing, that it could—would—happen.

But still.

It was isolating. Demoralising.

‘SORRY,’ Jason signed before resting his hand on your forearm—there wasn’t much more to say. There was nothing else to do. Jason could feel sorry for you all he wanted, but at the end of the day, the reality was the same. People stopped talking to you, never bothered to learn to communicate to stay close to you.

You would adapt, you had to. There was no alternative, no going back, so you just had to move forward.

He opened his arms for you, and you slid down to the ground, burying yourself in his embrace as you rested your head on his chest—you couldn’t hear his heartbeat, not the soft, gentle da-dum, but you could feel it against your cheek.

You would always be able to feel his heart beat in his chest.

You sank into his touch when gentle hands began petting your hair, and the deep tenor of his voice vibrated in his chest—you could make out his voice, but not his words.

Maybe there were no words. Maybe he simply hummed for you softly as you sat on the kitchen floor, ignoring how tears welled in your eyes and splattered against cold tiles—your grief was not yours to nurture while Jason held you close, singing a tune you must have once heard him sing.

You don’t know how long you sat there for, letting him hold together the pieces of you that threatened to shatter until you finally felt whole enough to pull away.

“Thank you.”

He tilted your chin up, his smile a little crooked as he met your eye.

“…you.”

You realised too late you had forgotten to read his lips, far too entranced by sea-green eyes. You blinked. “Huh?”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed your face.

You chuckled into the kiss, tilting your head to return it with just as much eagerness—chapped lips and sharp teeth were home to you, and you could never get enough of him, but eventually you parted for air.

“What did you say?”

“I said I fucking love you!”

“Damn, why are you screaming?!”

You didn’t have time to shove him away before sharp teeth sank into the apple of your cheek, laughter and pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

Didn’t post this one earlier for the same reason as the previous post—I just wasn’t too happy with the characterisation so you got the other version instead but I figured some people might also like a softer Jason so here you go

at the time of this being posted I’m pretty sure requests are closed but checked my pinned comment for more info and here’s my masterlist for more of this <3

[lyricalt]

happy wip wednesday! got tagged last week but totally forgot, lol. :')

Here's a preview for foresight that I've been noodling at since/during hindsight, which is probably necessary to read first, the time travel fic that is constantly making me pull my hair out. I'm hesitant to call it a strict sequel. More like a follow up? We'll see!

=======

Sniper is in the middle of relocating to a different post when Spy passes him by with a nod. From the corner of his eye, Sniper sees Spy halt midstep, turn back to look at him, and dart over. 

The next thing Sniper knows, his arm is being grabbed. Abrupt, sure, but not as alarming as Spy cupping his hand under Sniper’s jaw.

“Did you know your scar is gone?” Spy asks, surprised. He turns Sniper’s face, his grip gentle but firm.

Sniper slaps him.

Spy lets go of his face. It’s hard to say who looks more shocked. Spy puts a hand to his own cheek, like he’s offended that Sniper even hit him.

“What scar?” Sniper takes a step back, staring like Spy’s gone completely insane. What kind of guy just grabs other people’s faces without asking? Or maybe he’d been doing an enemy spy check but what a bloody weird way to go about it. Sniper would’ve rather had Spy stab him instead.

“The one-” and Spy stops speaking. He looks at his watch and proceeds to stare down at it for a long time. His brow furrows. “... Never mind.”

Sniper waits for what he feels is an appropriate amount—five even seconds of polite silence—and rolls his eyes. “I don’t got time for this,” Sniper says, impatiently. The sounds of gunfire and explosions are getting close to the base. Not a good sign. The team is losing, faster now that both he and Spy are wasting precious minutes gaping at each other. “You need anything from me or not?” 

Spy mutters to himself, brushing past Sniper. “Time.”

Cryptic. Figures.

“Oi,” Sniper calls out before Spy has the chance to disappear around the corner. “We still meetin’ up after hours? Still a go with the job?”

Spy has a cigarette in his mouth. It’s already down to the filter. Sniper didn’t think anyone could smoke that fast, but apparently Spy’s full of mysterious skills other than grabbing people by their faces.

“The job? Oh, yes. Probably,” Spy says.

“Probably?”

“Most likely.”

“We leave tomorrow,” Sniper reminds, frowning. Just yesterday Spy had been dropping snide comments about prep work, pre-prep meeting, prep checklist, prep prep prep. Their meetup later today had been his idea. “Now would be a good time to call it off if you think there’s gonna be a problem.”

Spy gives him a blank stare. It sure does imply there might be a problem. Maybe even more than one problem. There’s a bullshit meter that Sniper has developed over the years. Spy is usually a little better at going under the radar, but now it’s abundantly clear that Spy is unsure of what Sniper is even talking about.

“You hit your head or something?” Sniper raises an eyebrow. “Need a trip back to respawn? 

Spy gives a short, disparaging laugh. “If you don’t mind.”

Sniper stops. He’d meant it sarcastically, but Spy looks like he actually wants to take him up on the offer. “Come again?”

“If you have the bullet to spare.” Spy adds, “The kukri will work, if not.”

Sniper holds up a hand, stopping Spy from coming any closer, and fumbles for his rifle. He’d rather not waste the bullet on his own teammate but neither does he want Spy any nearer. There’s something off about him, and not in a might-be-the-enemy-spy kind of way. Besides, the kukri is messy and painful work. He might not particularly find Spy the easiest bloke to get along with, but there’s no need to give him a slow death. A bullet will be quicker. 

Sniper goes through the practiced motions of loading up while his mind whirls. This is all just bizarre. 

Spy waits, not even flinching when Sniper aims the rifle. Through the scope, Sniper can see the worried pinch to Spy’s brow, and the way Spy stares back at him is… strange. Expectant and oddly calm. Not the type of look someone gives when waiting to be shot through the head.

“You really want me to do this?” Sniper asks, just to be sure. 

“Please,” Spy says, and he’s never sounded so polite, up until the moment he points to the middle of his own forehead when Sniper hesitates for a second too long. “Right here, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Alright, no need to be an arse,” Sniper mutters.

That gets him another laugh. Sniper’s finger almost twitches a hair too soon from the sound. 

“Oh,” Spy says suddenly, and Sniper lets off on the trigger for a second time. “Yes. We’ll meet up after work. The Fugazzi job is still a go, but there will be some minor changes.” 

“How minor?” Sniper asks suspiciously.

“Find out tonight,” Spy says with the kind of smirk that feels like it specifically has the purpose of making Sniper annoyed enough to finally pull the trigger.

He sends Spy back to respawn in a bloody spray.

+++

“You notice anything funny ‘bout Spy?” Engineer asks, not too long after.

Sniper looks up from his rifle. They’re hanging by the dispenser. He hasn’t seen Spy since that strange run-in at the hallway. 

“He’s always been an odd fellow,” Sniper says, noncommittally. “But yeah. Maybe he’s called it for the day. It’s Friday, after all.” 

Engineer lets out a doubtful noise. “Well, I’ve been keeping an eye on the teleporter usage. Thirty minutes ago he spent at least ten minutes hurling himself back and forth through it.”

If Spy had been suffering from a concussion or head injury, it looks like the trip back to respawn didn’t help anything. Likely made it worse from the sound of it. Sniper grunts. Great. A useless teammate for the rest of the day.

They lapse into silence. Under normal circumstances, it would suit Sniper just fine, but now he’s getting the mild anxiety of having a potentially unreliable and unstable partner for an off-grounds mission. “He still at it?”

“Hrm… no,” Engineer says, frowning. He fiddles around with a secondary PDA, a cumbersome boxy thing with a bunch of scores and statistics flashing on the screen. He holds it over. “But take a look at this.” 

Sniper doesn’t much like taking his eyes off from the scope but the BLUs have been strangely quiet for the past couple of minutes. He takes a look at the PDA.

Spy’s kill count is higher than usual. It’s also steadily ticking up, past nine bodies. He’s killing a couple of BLUs twice over. Sniper’s brow goes up. That might explain why the BLUs haven’t been around their neck of the woods. They haven’t had the chance.

“Is he…” Sniper says, blinking. He flips the PDA over, thinking the numbers might right themselves to a more believable amount. “Is that correct?”

“Don’t know.” Engineer scratches under his helmet. He takes the PDA back. 

A minute later, they hear the Announcer declare that RED has taken the Intelligence. It’s one thing to have a faulty scoreboard. Quite another to have the Announcer back it up.

“Hoo-wee.” Engineer whistles, low. “Spy must’ve eaten his wheaties this morning.”

“We’re meeting up after work to do some spot checks on our duo job,” Sniper says, finally lowering his rifle in disbelief. “Guess I can ask.”

“If he keeps this up, I’d say you two are golden for the mission.”

Sniper shrugs, very much doubting the sentiment. “We’ll see.”

+++

Things are so far from golden, they might as well be smoke-gray ashes with how Sniper’s mind nearly implodes when Spy tells him the minor changes.

“Why on earth do we need a bloody teleporter?” he blurts out, even before Spy finishes explaining. “The mission ain’t complicated. Hell, I’ll go and do it myself.”

“No. I need one,” Spy says, cigarette smoke wafting out of his mouth. He smells like a minimum of three tire fires. The entire workshop is covered in a haze. 

Sniper is pretty sure Spy has been chain smoking all day, and while he doesn’t give a damn about Spy’s daily cigarette intake, the slight change in behavior is concerning. Sniper had pegged Spy as an efficient and collected type of fellow, maybe a bit snobby, but it’s as if a dial had been slightly tweaked in him—like Spy’s habits have turned up by a few notches. It makes him look completely neurotic, which doesn’t seem in line with what Sniper had gathered from the few months of working with the guy.

“Listen,” Sniper begins to say, and would’ve resorted to calling Spy nuts and several other rude things, including unprofessional, if only Spy hadn’t completely demolished the BLU team just hours before. He snaps his mouth shut. Spy’s performance scores are off the charts. Sniper has seen the reports. They all show that Spy had infiltrated the BLU base and made off with their intelligence four times. All by himself. 

Calling Spy nutty might be a compliment.

Sniper rubs his temples. While Spy has always been competent on the field, today he’d been a monster. Even when, in the last two hours of the shift, he’d fucked right off.  Disappeared for two hours until it was time to punch out. No one had the stones to bring up his disappearance, and by then RED had such an immense lead the BLUs were more or less demoralized enough that the rest of the team managed fine without him.

At the risk of pissing off their newest MVP, Sniper throws up his hands. “Why?”

“I have a secondary objective,” Spy replies, continuing to smoke like nothing’s happened. Like he hadn’t just blown his previous records and kill count out the water. He brushes some ash off from his jacket.

Sniper tracks the whisp of ash. It’s hard to say if it’d been from the cigarettes or battle. Despite all appearances, Spy is more rumpled than usual. His tie is loose. The cuffs of his sleeves are charred. His shoes have dirt and old blood underneath, meaning he hadn’t respawned at all or found time to change into cleaner clothes. Thus far, Sniper has only seen Spy in nothing less than impeccably pressed clothes during their off hours.

He frowns. Spy is eerily frazzled. He looks like a man preparing himself for one hell of a bender while already in one.

Sniper attempts to reel in his irritation. A secondary objective, and telling him this late in the game? He had thought Miss Pauling more courteous than that. “Which is?”

“A secret,” Spy says, throwing him a winsome smile that Sniper looks twice it. 

Spy has never smiled at him like that. Doesn’t seem the type to give a smile that looks anything other than smug or self-satisfied. 

Sniper has a sudden concerning thought about his contract, and a possible untimely termination. 

“Mate,” Sniper says, eyes darting to the nearest window out the workshop, “if RED wants to you to take me out, I’d pay you double to not to do it.”

If someone had asked yesterday about fighting one on one with Spy, he would’ve said his chances of winning—or at least escaping—were decent. Now? After Spy’s casual rampage against the BLUs? Less than he likes.

“What? No. Nothing like that,” Spy says, and then he snorts. “Take you out? No. Maybe. Hm.”

Sniper gives him a look. “...You alright?”

“Fine. Perfectly fine. It’s within our budget. You won’t have to take a pay cut.”

Sniper is unnerved that, on top of everything else, Spy seems to have worked out one of his main concerns about the teleporter.

Sniper sighs. He doesn’t know what else to say, what with Spy so fixated, but for the sake of professional integrity, he offers up his opinion.

“I don't like this new plan of yours. We had a good one. I don't understand why you have to change everything. Especially with the teleporter,” he says. He wants a cigarette for himself, but it seems like Spy is smoking enough to give him a secondhand hit. “It's not like we can plug it into the outlet and have it work.”

“You were saying the job was too easy,” Spy says, grinning, “I'm making it more challenging.”

“What? I've said no such thing. That'd be unprofessional,” Sniper says, baffled, before adding, “And bad luck.”

Spy frowns, deep in thought. 

“You haven't said it yet,” he mumbles, rubbing his forehead. The balaclava slips a bit, revealing strands of dark hair, flecked with gray.

Distracted, Sniper stares then glances up at the ceiling, trying to be polite. “Uh. Your mask.”

Spy quickly pulls it back in place. He shakes his head and finally crushes the cigarette filter into the ashtray. He’s either run clean out or is ending his night. Probably both.

“I’m turning in,” Spy says, shrugging off his jacket. He looks down at the fabric, realizing the dirt for the first time. His eyes narrow the more he inspects himself. “I’ll need to prepare some things before leaving.”

“Yeah, no kiddn’,” Sniper says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright. I’m still not sayin’ yes to this new plan, but once we get to the rendezvous point I want the details. Numbers.”

“Of course,” Spy says, a bit too readily for Sniper’s comfort. “Oh, and I will not be leaving with you. We’ll meet at the hotel.”

“How’re you gettin’ there?”

Spy’s returning smile is now neither winsome nor sly. Just tired and fully rueful. “I suggest getting used to this word; secret.”

Sniper rolls his eyes and leaves the workshop without saying good night.

+++

The hotel is the standard fare for a three-star, except for it’s many stories and windows, near perfect if one needed to spy or snipe into a different building. It’s not as glamorous as Sniper feared it would be. The hotel clerk barely gives him a second look as he hauls his rifle-length suitcases up to the elevators. To his credit, one of the suitcases contains a saxophone, just in case. He waves off the bellhops. Also just in case.

Their shared room is on the fifth floor. Sniper’s briefing had said something about the third floor. He assumes Spy might’ve had a hand in changing it up.

His assumption is correct. When he opens the door to the room, Spy is already inside. Sniper blinks, surprised, but drags the rest of his things in before he shuts the door. He shoots a peeved look Spy’s way. He should really get used to spies suddenly appearing in places where they aren’t expected by now.

As if sensing his annoyance, Spy glances up from the desk. He has a stack of papers sitting in front of him, a pen in hand, and is in the middle of reaching for one of two mugs at the table.

“Coffee?” he asks, holding the mug out for Sniper.

“Oh.” Sniper gives the hotel room a quick once-over. Two double beds. Single bathroom. Desk, apparently already claimed. And lastly, a great window with a very important view. He looks back at Spy. “No thanks, mate. I only drink-”

“It's decaffeinated.”

“Crikey,” Sniper says, a little mollified despite himself. The drive into the city had not been bad, just long. “RED’s dossier on me must be extensive.”

The mug tips as Spy shrugs. “Or I've just happen to notice.”

“Since when?” Sniper reaches over, if only to not have the coffee spill. It seems like Spy hadn’t slept a wink. 

Spy’s expression does something complicated—exasperation, mostly—then a flash of surprise when Sniper’s fingers touch his around the mug. “...Not long.”

Sniper grunts. Spy remains silent, which would be a rare blessing, but the mug is making his fingers burn, seeing as Spy has the handle part of it.

“Got it,” Sniper prompts, meaning the coffee, and Spy lets go belatedly. He takes a sip, finds it decent enough, and turns back around to organize his things. “Gonna take a couple of hours to get the lay of the land. You got that teleporter problem of yours sorted yet?”

Spy’s hand flexes into a fist before he reaches into his front pocket. When he brings it out again there’s a pen spinning between his fingers. He sits back down at the desk. “Not yet.”

Sniper holds up three fingers. Three days until the mark shows up then it’s go-time, whether Spy likes it or not. “Don’t know how much time I’m willing to give you.”

“You’ll have to give it,” Spy says and doesn’t offer up any more than that.

Unbelievable. This mission was supposed to be easy money. And, until yesterday, Spy seemed to be alike in thinking the same and hadn’t been too insistent on anything in particular. Certainly not the use of a teleporter. Sniper hadn’t anticipated on Spy being this much of a pain in the arse to work with.

“Listen, I’m not agreeing to this new plan until you give me the paperwork,” Sniper says, sitting on the one empty bed Spy left for him, the one furthest from the window. Thankfully, it suits him fine. “Inventory. Updated timeframes. Split costs.”

Spy looks like he is running a mental list of all the possible things he wants say, none of them polite or agreeable. His lips press into a thin line.

“You have a stick up your ass about this entire thing,” he eventually says, as if that’d been the mildest reply he could give. “The plan remains the same. I will lead the mark to the point, and you will shoot. Not complicated.”

“Me? Stick up my arse? Take a look in the mirror, mate, you-” Sniper halts mid-sentence. 

Spy is in his usual button up shirt, minus the jacket, tie, and gloves. He is sipping coffee from a mug, somehow abandoning his careful appearance for something more relaxed. Meanwhile, Sniper is still in his full uniform, hat included, arguing about contract logistics. 

Spy laughs, not mentioning the how hypocritical Sniper’s remark had been. 

“Go do your reconnaissance,” he says with a sharp smile that says he’s got a winning bet under his belt. He takes a long slurp of coffee. “Take your time. You’ll have your numbers when you come back.”

[changelingsandothernonsense]

WIP Whenever etc.

Tagged by @skyrim-forever and @silly-little-diary (Thank you, i'll follow up shortly ! :)

So I finished that whole render thing yesterday, and since drawing relaxes me enough so that I can manage sleep, we have a new thingy to work on. I'll also post some more of the Ashlander Burials wip under a cut.

Art

So we have tiling of the major plains and the first stage of the blending process. This is officially in "POTATO MODE".

This is just a fun exercise in facial expressions. There's a lot of folds and twists and wrinkles going on that'll be fun to carve out. Also, sometimes it's nice for Josh to smile. This pic also gives me the opportunity to show Joshi's gold teeth a bit better.

Writing

The Burial Practices document is on part 3 of 4 at the moment. The section i'm posting is the start of the section on Ancestor Ghosts and their summoning and purpose. Approx. 800 words.

Calling Across the Mortal Coil- Bringing Our Loved Ones Home.

After our dead are appropriately interred, it is considered time for the first summoning of the deceased’s Ancestor Ghost. It is an involved process that takes place alongside the aforementioned sections, and such practices will be detailed further in the final section. I wish to focus on the practice of the summoning ceremony itself, and the various ways an Ancestor Ghost might appear within a tomb complex and how our practices differ from our settled cousins.

A Wise Woman must participate in these initial summonings, as her magic reservoir is required to anchor the Ancestor Ghost as they make their first crossing. We do our best to have as many magical reservoirs as possible, but the most important comes from the energy of the living. Traditionally, a Wise Woman is chosen amongst the Seers due to her own immense magical talent and her proficiency in the schools of Restoration, Conjuration and Illusion. It is this strength that feeds the ghost as they make their first push back into the lands of the living.

I have mentioned the arrangements of the tomb in the previous section, things such as Spirit Fires, items of personal importance, familiar scenes painted upon the tomb walls, the addition of guar remains for guidance, the magical glyphs carved into the skeleton, and the already prepared madstones all serve to help the deceased find their way back to us after wandering the space between Dawn and Dusk. It is often thought that although the Ancestor Ghosts are effectively allowed to wander through Azura’s plain of Moonshadow, they choose to remain as close to their remains as is possible. This is why we take such care in our preparations of the deceased. If they are still tethered to some extent to their remains, then seeing the process they go through is thought to cause an early madness, as it would for the still living family if they saw the process.

I say this as our Wise Women and Seers carry with them a heavy burden, one that even I have not been witness to. They are the key to the safe summoning of our dead, and it is their knowledge I have asked permission to share here.

When I asked my niece and our current Wise Woman, Ilaba’andul-Maesa Ki, what she thought was the most important component of these summoning rituals, she said “Music”. It might seem innocuous to outsiders, as music tends to be a part of every funerary practice, no matter how different the peoples might be from one another. It is something we all have in common, and yet I found myself feeling a little surprised by her answer. We spend so much time on organisation and preparation of the physical offerings that I often forget that the first summoning of an Ancestor Ghost involves the chanting of a chosen prayer by not just the Wise Women and accompanying seers, but the whole clan of the deceased. Drums, flutes and singing from the throat are all a part of the ceremony needed to draw the ghost through the Mortal Coil. The objects and magic serve to make the journey easier, yes, but Ilaba’andul-Maesa Ki believes that it is the songs of their loved ones that really catch their attention. There might be a thousand doors but only one is calling them through.

The louder the song, the easier it is for a ghost to locate their shrine. From my understanding, it is the spirit fire that they can see from their side, and there are usually multiple fires maintained within a single cavern. It is important on this first summoning for the Ancestor Ghost to enter our world through the correct altar, so that they might be bound quickly. This strengthens the ghost’s ties to this world and finalises the blood bond between them and their clan. It’s a sum of all parts and ensures that our dead are well-kept and satisfied so that we might call upon them when we are in need.

How long one needs to sing for is dependent on a few factors, mostly to do with the state of the remains and how long the ghost has been afloat for. This is because the ghost’s tie to their remains is known to weaken with time and decay. The preservation techniques we use serve to keep these ties strong for decades, even centuries after death. It requires fewer repetitions of songs and prayers to coax a ghost who has recently crossed over, when compared to those who have been wandering for much longer. As stated in previous sections, we modify our rites and practices to fit the nature of the deceased. This includes being prepared for the physical state of the ghost.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Just had the wild realisation that I can write whatever I want here. This is a thing that I am allowed to do. I can scream into the void. I don't have to tag my posts. Grammar is a social construct. It doesn't matter who's listening. The people I love and who love me will talk to me posts or no posts. Someone's going to read this and smile. Even if it's just me.

I can watch only the finales of shows to see their happy endings. I can eat cornflakes in the afternoon. I can go into bookstores just to creepily stare at the hardcovers of Victorian literature. I can write meticulous notes for subjects I'm not studying, and highlight it to Pinterest perfection. I can tell people I want to bite them out of sheer love. I can write long emails to my friends about weird slippers that remind me of them.

I can tell you that it's been a hot year, the hottest one to date, and that April hasn't seen a single drop of rain fall onto the earth. But it's hanging in the air, making it heavy with moisture and that relentless, relentless heat. It's muggy and the swamp theme I chose for my bullet journal couldn't be more appropriate. I can tell you how I keep singing that song in my head, Corner Of My Sky, the one whose music video has Michael Sheen wrangling with an occult toaster. "The rain, the rain, the rain, thank god the rain."

I can tell you anything I like. I can tell you that I'm afraid of being forgotten, that I've always longed to be famous, that I have a hard time not caring about every single little thing. I can tell you that I'm ace and I'm afraid that no one will ever love me the way I need them too, even if I love them the way that they need me to. I can tell you the nightmares have gotten better, but they're still there, they don't seem to want to leave me. I can tell you that I'm so much more ill and broken than I dare think about. Because I am afraid that if I start thinking about it, I shan't stop, and then it will become everything. And I don't want it to be everything. I can tell you that. I can tell you that I have beautiful memories, too, not just the fear and the loss and the anger.

I can tell you that I'm a performer, an entertainer, and I love making people laugh. I'm more comfortable on stage, where people are already listening, than trying to go up and make conversation to groups of strangers. I can tell you how wonderful it feels to have been able to speak to so many people all around the world, to have them know me, to listen to me, and to listen to them in turn. I can tell you that I don't know where to draw the line sometimes, I'm never entirely sure when I'm joking, and the act easily becomes a second skin. I can tell you all of that.

I can tell you all the things that I used to tell myself in letters sealed in envelopes addressed to Future Me. And it won't matter, and it does matter, and it's all so fucking absurd. It doesn't make any sense at all. Does it? I don't know. I can tell you that I don't know very much at all. Knock knock. Who's there? No one. No one who? No one who matters. Knock knock. I haven't been able to walk around for a month. This room is an oven and I'm being slow-cooked, broiled into a little Asmi pie. I read fanfiction yesterday after a long while. That was nice. I think it's really cool that you all know me. You do know me. Sometimes better than I know myself. I can tell you that.

I can tell you the truth. I can tell you I love you. And that to be seen and to be known is a gift that I will always be grateful for. I can tell you that you don't have to listen. But if you do, then hi! Nothing makes sense. Let's sit in the nonsense for a while. I have biscuits. Would you like one? I'm very human. It's one of the things that gets me so easily hurt. Maybe it happens to you too. I can tell you that my plant Crowley is surviving, unlike the others did. I can tell you that maybe you and I are, too.

It's 8:02 in the morning. I might just eat breakfast now. It does seem like the thing to do. How weird and wonderful that is.

[demigod-shenanigans]

Force of Nature

As previously announced, have a little part 2/Piper POV aftermath for the Pipeyna fic I posted yesterday! There are still some mentions of grief, but overall this is way more light-hearted than the first part, hence why I split it. I liked the thought of a more light-hearted “epilogue” and being able to have Leo tease Piper a little, so here you go!

———

Chapter 2

Okay. There was a gorgeous girl asleep in Piper’s bed. A gorgeous girl who had told Piper she was lucky to have her on her side, and grateful to have met her. Piper was going to be so normal about this.

If Piper had had any lingering doubts about her sexuality, they’d been vaporized somewhere between Reyna lovingly rambling about appropriate pegasus care and getting to spend ages running her hands through Reyna’s hair. RIP heterosexuality. It would not be missed.

Reyna had been a hurricane of emotions when Scipio had died. Piper wasn’t sure if the others had felt it, but for her it had been impossible to ignore—the way the grief had rolled off Reyna in waves, dragging up Piper’s own feelings of grief from when her grandfather had passed away. Even with the limited time she’d spent around Reyna up until that point, it hadn’t been hard to guess that Reyna wouldn’t want anyone watching, so Piper had run interference, making sure she could have her moment of grief in as much peace as was possible under the circumstances. 

But she also hadn’t wanted Reyna to be alone with that grief. It had been too much to carry for one person—that much had been obvious from the way it had spilled over to Piper. 

She hadn’t been sure if Reyna would trust her enough to let her help. But Reyna had, and suddenly they’d been sitting in Piper’s room, on her bed. All the grief Reyna’s hurricane emotions had brought back for Piper had also brought back the memories of how her and her dad had dealt with that grief. Of that night camping out under the stars, her dad telling her stories about his father until it was way past Piper’s bedtime.

Piper had been able to give Reyna that. A space to feel everything she needed to. A space to remember.

And, well, if Piper got to know her better and just managed to fall even more in love with her in the process… that was for future Piper to worry about.

Current Piper had been perfectly content listening to Reyna tell stories about Scipio and Camp Jupiter in that soft, fond voice. She could have kept listening to her forever. 

That was unfortunately completely unreasonable. They did sort of have a world to save.

Besides, Reyna had obviously been exhausted, and Piper couldn’t exactly pull a Penelope, doing and undoing Reyna’s braid repeatedly for the next ten years just because she wanted her to keep talking. She’d already done it a few more times than she probably should have.

In Piper’s defense, talking about Scipio had obviously helped Reyna, so it hadn’t purely been selfish. She had felt the way Reyna’s churning emotions had started to settle, until all that was left beneath the grief was just love. That had been too big for Reyna to contain by herself, too—her entire soul had lit up in the process.

Getting to see that side of Reyna—a side that Reyna clearly didn’t show to many people—made Piper giddy with joy. She wasn’t sure she’d survive the day she figured out how to properly make her laugh. She might simply have a terrible gay heart attack and drop dead on the spot.

“Piper’s in loveeeee,” Leo sing-songed the second she stepped into his room/glorified workshop that had a bed in it by pure coincidence. “How’s princess charming?”

Piper blushed furiously. “Shut up. It’s not like that.”

“It so is. You are literally carrying around her armor.”

“Yeah, well, her armor needs fixing, and I thought I have a capable, if very annoying, son of Hephaestus for a best friend, so.” Piper shrugged, placing the dented armor down on her friend’s work table.

“You put me on armor duty?” Leo whined. “Piper! I’m gonna be bored out of my mind! You know I hate doing basic repair stuff.”

“Unfortunately, you’re the only one here who’s capable of doing basic repair stuff, so. Consider it payback for teasing me.” Piper immediately realized her mistake when Leo’s entire face lit up. “Don’t even think about it. That goes for past teasing only.”

“Sorry, Beauty Queen. No take-backs.” He beamed at her. “I’ve decided I get to tease the hell out of you for the rest of the day now. Which you totally deserve, by the way.”

“I don’t-”

“I can’t believe you dumped Jason because you’re in love with his ex.” Leo shook his head. “The poor guy is sensitive! He’s never gonna recover!”

“I’m not- they never-” Piper sputtered, giving Leo an exasperated look. “And for the record, Jason dumped me.”

“Hang on, really?” Leo looked genuinely surprised, but he quickly fixed his expression back into a teasing smile. “Was it because you wouldn’t shut up about Reyna?”

“It wasn’t about Reyna!” Piper groaned. “Okay, I thought him breaking up with me was about Reyna at first, but that was because I thought Jason was in love with her,” she amended. 

Leo raised an eyebrow at her. “Projecting much?” 

“Shut up.” Piper felt like if her face got any redder, her head might explode, cartoon-character style. 

“It’s not my fault that these jokes basically write themselves.”

“Sure, sure, kick a queer girl struggling with compulsory heterosexuality while she’s down, why don’t you,” she scoffed, but it was without any real heat. 

Honestly, this was partially Piper’s own fault. She wasn’t sure why she kept giving Leo more ammo to tease her with. That should have been the opposite of what she wanted. 

But, well… she was in a good mood. And she’d meant what she’d said to Reyna. Leo was her best friend. And in the midst of everything else that had been going on, she hadn’t spent nearly as much time with him as she probably should have. She’d missed joking around with him like this—even if most of the jokes were at her expense today.

She’d properly get him back eventually. For now, she settled on gently poking him in the ribs in vengeance.

“Hey! Ow! Don't try to silence me, I’m just saying it like it is,” Leo complained, but he was laughing. “Besides, which part of you is down right now, exactly? You just spent, like, an hour with the girl you have a crush on, and as much as you’re grumbling at me, you haven’t been able to stop grinning since you got here. That's as up as it gets.”

“You’re the worst.”

”You love me.” Leo grinned at her. “Where did you leave Reyna, anyway?”

“She’s asleep. She’s had a rough couple of days.”

“Yeah, mood.” Leo’s eyes went wide. “Hang on, where is she sleeping?”

“My room.” Piper shrugged. “I don’t really feel like sleeping right now, anyway, so-”

Leo whistled. “Holy shit, Pipes. You and Jason have been broken up for, what, a week, and you’ve already got a girl sleeping in your bed? You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“Not like that!” Piper shrieked, cheeks flaming. “She's dealing with a lot! We just talked and I offered her my bed so she could take a nap. Gods.”

“Was that before or after you took her armor off?”

“That’s it. I’m unfriending you. Jason is my best friend now.” Piper grabbed one of the pillows off of Leo’s bed—a bed that was so filled with tools and random projects that she had serious doubts he'd ever slept there—and whacked him in the head with it. 

“Ow! Hey! I'm unarmed! No fair!” Leo complained, ducking under her second attack before diving for the bed. “Also, Jason is my best friend.”

“Not anymore, he isn’t.” Piper hit him with the pillow again. “And being poorly prepared for a pillow fight sounds like a you problem.“

“Armed now!” Leo announced, grabbing the second pillow off the bed and whacking her in retaliation. “I seriously can’t believe you’ve got the girl of your dreams sleeping in your room, and somehow you’re here, tormenting me.”

“I’m not going to watch her sleep like a total creep. Also, I promised her I’d get her armor fixed, so tormenting the local blacksmith makes perfect sense in that context.” 

“Pro tip: a pillow fight is not how you motivate the local blacksmith to get shit done,” Leo shot back, meeting her pillow with his.

“Past experience tells me you don’t get shit done unless you’re almost out of time, and since Reyna will probably be asleep for a few hours, I don’t think you would have gotten much done right now anyway.”

“Fuck off,” Leo laughed, giving her another a face-full of pillow. “You know, pillow-related violence notwithstanding, I’m actually really glad.”

“About what?”

“You and Jason breaking up.” Leo winced, lowering his pillow. “Sorry, that sounds kind of horrible. I was worried things would be weird when you told me, but… you both seem happy.”

“We are.” Piper smiled. “If you ignore the doomsday prophecies and looming end of the world, things are great.” She bit her lip. “But speaking of… how is Jason holding up?”

“He was pretty wrecked when we got back, so he’s probably asleep now. In his own bed, because unlike you, he’s got zero game, and we’re also a little short on eligible bachelorettes who aren’t his exes.” 

Leo lightly elbowed Piper. 

Considering the reason Jason had broken up with Piper had been his distinct disinterest in bachelorettes specifically, she doubted that particularly bothered him, but that wasn’t her conversation to have.

“Hardy har har.” Piper rolled her eyes at Leo, but she didn’t feel much like joking around anymore. “He didn’t take seeing Reyna like that very well, did he? I haven’t talked to him since we got back, but he seemed really shaken up.”

Leo shook his head. “He hated that he had no idea how to comfort her, and that she probably didn’t even want him to.” He sighed. “Classic Superman. He really struggles with being unable to help people he cares about.”

“Reyna’s hurting, too. They clearly miss each other a lot. I wish I knew how to help them.” Piper wrung her hands. “If we don’t all croak on this quest, I want to find a way to fix this.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. I don’t like seeing Jason unhappy any more than you do, but I sort of started a civil war by destroying Reyna’s home. I don’t think adding me into the equation is going to help anything.” Leo lifted his hands. “Besides, I’m garbage at this whole friendship thing.”

“You’re my friend. That has to count for something.” Piper took one of his hands, bringing it back down and squeezing it gently. “Please? For Jason?”

“You know me too well. Screw you.” Leo sighed. “Fine. If none of us croak on this mission, I’m going to help you with your stupid friendship meddling. And when it inevitably backfires on you, I’m going to be right by your side to say ‘I told you so’” 

Piper nudged him gently. “Love you, too.”

———

Some notes:

-I did warn you guys that this one was a bit more goofy, tone-wise. I love these two morons and I love them being friends so obviously I couldn’t resist adding this bit, and it also gave me a chance to add some of Piper’s thoughts and feelings about what happened between her and Reyna.

-My personal favorite bit is probably that Piper considered to just keep redoing Reyna’s braid because she wanted her to keep talking.

-Also, when Leo comes up with the whole physician’s cure idea, he absolutely thinks he’s going to be able to argue technicality on this and get out of Piper’s stupid friendship meddling that way (because he did die, he just came back to life right after). Piper does not let him, LOL. No get out of jail free card for traumatizing your friends, sorry buddy <3

Once again, thank you so much for reading! Comments immensely appreciated!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

I’ve been getting messages about some idiots planning to raid and harass people with all kinds of gore pics during these couple of days. As far as I understood, no one knows if it’s actually going to happen, but just in case it is, I thought I’d mention it.

Please stay safe and, I don’t know, maybe turn off your ask box for a couple of days? It’s better to be safe than sorry, I guess. Thank you for everyone messaging us about it!

And Merry Christmas, everyone.

Today I’m mostly replying to asks related to a JackDeuce/ADeuce drawing from yesterday.

Anonymous asked:

Psst, have you noticed that Lilia has an undercut (it's very obvious in his dorm card groovy)? I don't know it seemed very important

Merry Christmas by the way!

And of course, Anon! I draw that undercut every time it’s visible… or at least I try to lol Like on this one for example.

Azul also has an undercut, but I keep forgetting about it :(

Anonymous asked:

no more idia? :(((((((

(kidding, i love deuce)

Anon, I’m physically stopping myself from drawing only Idia and no one else… gotta diversify the diet! But there still will be a lot of Idia posted soon lol

Hehe we all love Deuce in this house <3

Anonymous asked:

Do shared custody!

That's what the Heartslabyul courtroom is for, to solve the important issues

If only, Anon! These two boys in particular are so damn jealous and greedy, they wouldn’t want to share! :(

Who would be the judge, I wonder? Would it be Cater or Riddle? Cater would say that they should share, and Riddle would say that they should shut the fuck up and do their homework instead of wasting their time on this whole thing…

Anonymous asked:

Jack is obviously the right answer. Smh Ace is a weak bitch

Oh, so it is about power!.. I’m sorry, Ace, you’re not a beefcake lol

I feel like Deuce would get the thought of Jack being objectively better at a lot of things a lot, like if he wants to be a proper student and a good boy, Jack feels like an appropriate option.

But… His heart is also drawn to Ace… :”( He loves being with him a lot…

eh-nonnie-mouse asked:

Lol poor deuce...they both look so offended. Their brains can't understand the concept of sharing their favorite bottom.

Maybe Ace and Jack will get in a competition to see who's 'better' and then it's a messy gang bang where Deuce gets his poor ass wrecked :]

Exactly!! Jack is too into the idea of two people being mates for life, and Ace is too insecure to share a boyfriend with someone as huge and impressive as Jack! Plus, Ace doesn’t even fully accept he is into Deuce yet… what an absolute mess lol

They really should do a competition to see who makes Deuce feel better… unfortunately I feel like they’ll just make Deuce realise that he loves it when two people do it at the same time lol

[sea-moon-star]

Sugar Rush Ride || CYJ

Pairing: Yeonjun x f.reader, Idol!Yeonjun x Creative Director!YN 

Genre: Forbidden Love, Office Romance 

WC: 1.8k

Summary: Yeonjun is the artist you’re responsible for but what happens when you fall for him instead? When the Temptation era gets the better of you, your professionalism colliding with your heart and then there’s shirtless Yeonjun and a heatwave around to make it worse. You keep pulling away, he keeps pushing closer, who's going to win this tug of war? 

A/N- Can be read as a one shot but for better context, read the drabble that came before this one, set in the same universe- 0x1=Lovesong 🌊🌙⭐️

Y/N's POV

I remember like it was yesterday where I was fighting the team to ensure that TXT wasn’t thrust into sexier concepts before it was age appropriate for them. To make sure they had time to grow up before they were accessing their sensuality and putting it on purview for the whole world to see, but it was time now- Kai was 21, that was the most they were going to let him grow up. And the treasure I’d been holding onto, it was finally time to let it out in the world. Sugar Rush Ride- their next concept, my masterpiece. I wanted to portray sensuality in a way that would make people forget about sex but crave touch with an intimacy and art that was lost. The feeling of Darcy’s hand flex from Pride and Prejudice, when Damon and Elena danced in Vampire Diaries at the Miss Mystic Falls, similar to what BTS’ HYYH era elicited instead of BST. And that’s how sugar rush ride was born- mystical, glittery, trippy and sensual like the devil whispering in your ear and slowly pulling you in.

And so naturally, I was upset when I saw Yeonjun was frowning and speaking in low but tensed words with the producer-director, “PD-nim, with all due respect I don’t think this is the right direction for the concept, all of us being shirtless will be too much and Kai is still too young to be showing his abs, I don’t want him to be facing that kind of pressure already. If you really want it, I can still go shirtless but leave the others out of it.” “None of the members will do anything they’re not comfortable with. We are NOT taking that way here. It’s my vision and I don’t know if you’ve seen the mood board and pointers from the arts team, it’s meant to be whimsical and alluring, tempting but not in your face.” I said firmly, even catching him off guard. I was still smiling, still my petite feminine self, but I was like the kind to back down, not the type to let a man push me around- especially not when someone went after the people I cared about. Yeonjun was still trying to protect the members but I had to let him know, I’d protect him too. I stood in front of Yeonjun, as a buffer between him and the PD, letting him know it was me who he should be having this discussion with.

Our conversation got more heated, we went in circles with neither of us backing down and I could feel myself wanting to veto this decision, throwing around my power and authority in a way that I actually hated doing. I would rather everyone in this project felt good about the direction we were going in but push comes to shove, I’d get him to do it my way even though he wouldn’t be happy about it. But it was good for the boys, that’s what mattered, it made it worth it. Just as I was about to put my foot down, I felt Yeonjun’s hand on my shoulder, immediately defusing all my rage, a light squeeze that made me loosen up my shoulders and turn around to face him. We were good friends, it had taken us a while to warm up to each other but there had been no looking back since our first post work ramen that had bonded us for life. “Manager-nim, can I talk to you for a moment? In private.” he whispered softly, pleading at me with his gaze to step away from this mess for a second and I reluctantly did.

“Y/N, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But this is going nowhere, I know you’re only looking out for the boys and me but don’t burn down bridges. It’ll take a toll on you and I don’t want that. Look, he’s almost agreed to everything, he said the others don’t have to go shirtless which is a win, I’m glad you convinced him of that. Let us give him what he wants, I can still do it. I’m not uncomfortable with it, I swear. Look, the Big Hit 23 curse did me good, I’m in great shape, unless you think I can’t pull it off… I see no reason why I shouldn’t do it.” He said, baiting me with logic that he knew I couldn’t disagree with. Of course he’d pull it off, he’d look stunning doing it and he was right, he was ready- I knew that in my bones. He could do it, and everyone would have their win. I just didn’t like the thought of him doing this for the team, for me… so I found a middle way out.

“Okay, you can do it. But let’s stick to the concept, yeah? How about we only get a back shot while you’re shirtless? It’ll still be apt for the theme of “temptation” but we don’t give them what they want, just a tease. It’ll drive Moas crazy, it gives the PD what he wants and truth be told- you’d be more comfortable with it and so would I. Does that sound better? I suggested and he grinned, “Done, deal. Get ready, we’re going to blow their minds away, see we’re a power team!” He gave me a high five, an elaborate handshake that we’d made years ago that had somehow stuck around and become an inside joke. Of course, what he didn’t know is that while this was a win for everyone and professionally I was happy, personally- I didn’t know how I would handle watching him shirtless, which was a whole other thing I was going to have to deal with. Somewhere along the way from the freeze era to now, he’d become my bias- a soft spot then a crush, one that I had no intention of acting on but that kept reeling me in- like a moth to a flame.

Skip forward to the daydream concept shoot, where he was shirtless and supposed to pose under the greenery with the sunlight pouring through the canopy. He gave me a thumbs up as he took position and it took me everything in my power to send him a thumbs up back. My breath hitched in my throat as he sat down, casually like this was not the most devastatingly handsome thing he’d ever done. His sun kissed skin, his mullet grazing the nape of his neck, that look of wonder as he daydreamed- I almost thought his skin would burst into sparkles like he was a vampire from Twilight- he looked that pretty, it should’ve been illegal to look that gorgeous. It was only when he joined the other members for the group shoot that he switched a barely there shrug, with all of them still unbuttoned but at least clothed, even if barely. And it wasn’t until then that I could make eye contact with him. I was watching the final cut for the daydream version photos that he snuck up on me and I gasped out loud in surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice you were here. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” I muttered and he pouted and playfully asked, “Did I do something wrong? You’re avoiding me, you complimented all the others but you gave me no feedback for my shoot. I’m not going anywhere till I get some praise.” I cursed mentally, I was hoping he wouldn’t have noticed that. “No, you were perfect, I had no notes to give. Moas are going to love it, I think it’s the best you’ve done so far… I’m just overwhelmed with the shoot and it’s so hot here… I’ve got too much on my mind, it’s not you.” I said a bit too quickly, a lie that should’ve been caught for how obvious it was because my mind was filled with only his thoughts and nothing else. “You do look flushed, now that you mention it. Have you been hydrating? You’ve also been on your feet all day, maybe you should sit down. I’ll go grab you some ORS.” His expressions changed from being jestful to serious in a moment and I guess my blush might’ve come across as me looking red in the face due to the heat. But I also didn’t want him to worry so I held his wrist, holding him back from panicking and running to get help. And we made eye contact, despite my best efforts- his foxy cat eyes widened, as they so often did behind the scenes when the real Yeonjun came out instead of his stage persona. I could swear my heart rate spiked just then, I knew I was a goner for him beyond saving. But I collected myself and used my most casual tone as I said, “I’m okay, don’t worry… Maybe I’m just too hot because of the company I’m with, have you considered that? You… all of you are just that good at following my instructions and doing the job.”

I hoped the joke I’d made would diffuse the tension but it didn't, not even in the slightest. Thankfully the other boys came over at that moment, and we dropped each other’s hands like hot cakes. But that didn’t mean his eyes left mine, even for a moment. And when Beomgyu came and put a flower behind my ear, I could swear Yeonjun was clenching his jaw at that moment even though it was something so harmless and sweet. “We heard you say you are feeling hot because of our company, is that true?” Kai fished for a compliment and I responded, “Yes, I gotta report TXT for single handedly worsening global warming.” I laughed naturally with the boys, finding it easier to compliment them when I was tongue tied in front of Yeonjun just moments before. Taehyun handed me water, understanding my needs even before I asked and I thought I saw Yeonjun curse under his breath, something along the lines of- “That should’ve been me”. But I thought I must’ve been hearing things because this was clearly my delusional mind taking over.

Instead I turned to Soobin as he asked me a technical question and I was grateful for that distraction, at least focusing on work would keep me in check. But right before we got to the next shoot, an intern came to me and handed over a kit that had everything I could use in the sweltering heat. It was a basket filled with electrolytes, a mini fan, shades, cap and sunscreen with a note that said- “I’d rather you melt because of my charm and not the heat- YJ.” I smiled wide, touched by his gesture and put on the cap, one of his own- I recognized it from his personal collection. And this time, I didn’t avoid him, in fact I made sure he saw me wearing it as well as continued to use item after item right in front of him so he knew his gifts were appreciated without a doubt. And I could see how that changed his mood, his million dollar smile brighter than before and his part of the shoot was completed in one take, his energy unmatched with this serotonin boost I'd just given him. Despite the trouble my heart was in, his smile made it all worth it.

To Be Continued... 🌊🌙⭐️

[redrobin-detective]

hello!!! you don't gotta answer because it's kinda random-y but i was thinking of applying to be a phlebotomist at my local hospital cause they only need a high school diploma (on the job training) but I still wanted to look into how drawing blood works so i won't be completely surprised during my first day and i've seen my family need enough blood draws to be even curious on my own

so i guess i wanted to ask the process you go through to find a vein? especially if it's not visible? cause dang. no matter how much i look at diagrams of the median cubital vein and other videos it still baffles me how people are about to find That Thang. Cause I know the tourniquet helps in making it more prominent and that they also have people make a fist or slightly bend their arm to find it. And then you gotta palpate that vein and it should bounce back. and be kinda spongy? but everything feels kinda spongy when you poke around there enough? and how do you know if it's not like a tendon or something? it would probably help if any of my family members had more prominent veins, but all of our veins are pretty much invisible so when I was trying to find one on myself and my family members I was just like ???? feels like skin

I've been following your work for a while and I know you've been a nurse and involved with the healthcare field for a while so I figured I might as well ask from a first person's point of view and perspective what it's like and what it feels like. again tho sorry if this ask is kinda weird, love your writing and thank you for your time!!!

*vibrates in teacher mode*

Hello! I think phlebotomy is a great field and you should go for it if its something you're interested in. It is also a skill that needs to be honed with time and practice. I used to be horrible at lab sticks and IVs. People knew not to come to me lol but practice, a willingness to fuck up (yes on a patient I'm so sorryyyyy) and keeping eyes and ears open to advice gets you there.

I've met some incredible phlebotomists who've swanned in and in 2 minutes have the labs I've been struggling to get like, do you want my first born?? Not every patient is going to have the big juicy veins so learning to find what veins they do have is valuable. Experience means a whole lot.

I know you can buy like fake skin practice things for pretty cheap. I think an underrated aspect of teaching is getting the angle and pressure right. My students think I'm a weirdo by having them stick an empty tissue box before they do human flesh but I want them to have the appropriate grip and method first. Also find friends willing to let you practice. The babies Also think I'm insane because I beg them to stick me before they come off orientation. I want them to practice on someone who's not gonna yell at them (IE some patients). Simulations are great but you've go to do the real thing to get better.

I heard it said in nursing school that you've got to see a thousand normals before you recognize abnormal and it's true. I used to only be able to get the biggest juiciest veins and, just yesterday, I got a bitter, hard stick patient who was wiggling. You gotta start with good healthy veins to get the flow and as you get experience, you get better at handling the less obvious ones.

All I can say is I believe in you and don't get discouraged by missed sticks! Ive had baby nurses cry on me when they failed to get their first IV. Its okay! We've all missed and its unfortunate for the patient (it hurts! Thats one reason i put up with the practice sticks is to hammer in to myself that yes this hurts and I need to be more empathetic about it). But these labs and IVs need to be done for the overall health of the patient and you need practice to get better so its the only way forward.

Good luck and keep me posted!

[i-actually-post-stuff]

In celebration of Spones day I remembered that I never posted the written submission for the @sponeszine after the waiting period was over! I'll have more to post today for Spones day! Something I that I actually made for the day 😂

For now, the unedited version of my zine entry:

A03 Link

“Now, what's this, Spock? Cookin’, or biological warfare?” McCoy eyed Spock's potluck contribution; a mixture of colorful unfamiliar baked vegetables, piping in the bath of sauce and spices, all served in complement with a steamed Vulcan grain that he recognized but didn't remember the name of. But, the spice from the stuff was practically overpowering without him even eating it. It made his eyes water like getting too close to the smoke from a fire. 

In all honesty, it seemed exciting. McCoy wasn't a loather of spice. He liked spicy chili, hot pot, jerk chicken, spiced rum; all kinds of tasty things that’d make his mouth burn. It wasn't that he disliked the idea of trying the dish at all; it was that he wanted Spock to tell him about it, and with Spock, an insult always worked better than a request.

“If I was attempting biological warfare, Doctor, I would have not chosen such an obvious method as poisoning you via food.” Spock paused to consider McCoy’s initial jab. “I am lucky to have found Vulcan ingredients in such abundance in the market. All of the vegetables and spices are Vulcan in origin, and the grain is myropses, which has been grown on Vulcan since the early days of space travel, when it was first imported.” he knew McCoy’s game at this point, it seemed, and he looked like he was taking an un-Vulcan-like pride in his recreation of the dish. “I ruminated on what to prepare for quite a long time yesterday evening.” 

McCoy leaned in a bit to really admire his work while he listened. It did look absolutely mouthwatering.

“You are unaware of this; Vulcan cuisine exists on what you would call two ends of a spectrum; unflavored meals focused on texture and, in contrast, meals that take full advantage of the spices available on Vulcan.” the corners of his mouth quirked up—subtly, but certainly fiendishly. “I only used a small fraction of the traditional spices for this dish. Perhaps I should have made a tasteless dish, in order to suit your palette more appropriately,” he insulted. 

McCoy resisted a simple; bite me. “Maybe I should’a made some spicy harissa aubergine pie. Had you put those Vulcan taste buds to the test,” he genuinely considered. “Lucky for your Vulcan ego, I just made some sweet peach pies.”

“Then, perhaps I'll show you the fault in your thinking that any Human spice would adequately phase my palate on another day,  doctor.”

“You’d-”

He was promptly cut off by Jim awkwardly ringing the little dinner-bell he'd replicated. The entire potluck crowd straightened up and looked to the captain. 

It was truly a wonderful sight laid out on the several large tables in front of them. The Enterprise cultural exchange potluck was many a crewmember's favorite time of year, including McCoy’s. There were so many tantalizing looking breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and desserts scattered across the table, and even more odd looking ones. Jim had been wise enough this year to separate the dishes by smell, after the absolute fiasco of smells from the last year's contributions. It certainly made where he was standing all the more dangerous for his sinuses. But, no one would be skipping over his pie sitting on the opposite table because of the magma incarnate Spock had brought along.

“Everyone, welcome, to the annual Enterprise potluck. Today we celebrate, where we came from, the people, we surround ourselves with and choose to care for now, and, the way that our strength is in what each, individual, one of us, brings to the table—because our differences are the exact thing that make, wonderful times like this, possible. I,, remember all those complaints last year about the length of my speech, and all I have to say, is, shame on you all for not enjoying the only thing I can bring to this table. You, don't, want my cooking here,” he got a light chuckle from the crowd, “and, dig in.” He stepped down from his spot at the head of the intersection of tables as everyone rushed for their plates. 

McCoy really did try to seem like he wasn't in a hurry to taste test Spock's special Vulcan dish that he'd so considerately made palatable for human consumption, but it was the third thing that he'd put on his first plate, and Spock definitely took notice, looking at him from across the table. And McCoy took note of that look, and the peach pie slice on Spock's dessert plate. That eased him. He'd actually been fairly concerned that Spock wouldn't like what he brought to the table this year; Vulcans weren't exactly known for being avid lovers of dessert. And the two years before, he hadn't gotten to participate. 

As he made his way to Jim's side at one of the sitting tables, he found himself troubled with the idea of Spock eating his pie. He knew he'd put a lot of effort into making it just right, and he knew that it was probably one of the best damn things at the entire potluck. But it was also the first time Spock was going to try his cooking. What are you sweating for, McCoy? It doesn't matter what Spock thinks. Get it together. He couldn't fathom why Spock's judgment on the matter seemed to get him so anxious.

Spock sat on the other side of Jim. McCoy eyed up his plates. Despite the many other wonderfully colorful dishes Spock had decided to sample, he couldn't help but lock his eyes on his own slice of pie on that dessert plate. He briefly considered causing a scene; doing something, anything, to get rid of that slice on Spock's plate. He won the battle with himself and forced himself to calm down, of course, but the whole thing just made him feel silly. 

He took a deep breath, double checked to make sure he had his little shot glass of milk, and took a bite of Spock's cooking. 

It was incredible.

The vegetables were crisp on the outside and tender on the inside. The perfect texture, easy to chew and easy to savor. As his teeth bit through them, the juice went straight to his taste buds, sweet and sour. But the method of cooking added something else; a kind of char, almost like it had been grilled; or, maybe that was one of the spices. That's when the first wave of spice hit. Whatever it was, it was intense, prickling at his tongue and down his throat, then right up into the sinuses. It was a good burn, like the first time he tried Thai food. The spice playing in harmony with all those flavors, pairing so perfectly with the plain, grounding taste of the grain, and just begging to be chased with a nice smooth drink. Then the second wave hit, and he sniffled a little as his nose started running. He held a napkin over his nose and mouth and let it run for a second, not wanting to give away that the third wave, the aftertaste, was making his eyes burn. He shut them. 

There was no doubt. Spock was a damn good cook.

He subtly wiped his nose and took half his shot of milk, wishing that he had gotten a full glass and didn't have to save the other half for what was left of it… and also wishing that he had a bigger stomach, to go back and get more without sacrificing the capacity to try all the rest of the food he’d piled on his plates. He cleared his throat, the remnants of the spices tickling where the milk hadn't entirely soothed.

Then, he subtly looked over to Spock. 

Spock was sitting there, looking as though he hadn't even started eating, like something was on his mind; not something troubling him, more so that he was ruminating on something he found important. He knew the man, after all—he knew what the look on his face was. The Vulcan was definitely thinking about something very important to him. So important that he hadn't touched anything on his plates—Leonard did a double take.

Spock had touched one thing on one of his plates. McCoy's slice of pie, which was completely gone. Briefly, he was flattered, before realizing all of the different things that that could mean. 

Maybe Spock hated it. Maybe it’d put him off eating all together. Or maybe he hadn't checked the little ingredient card in front of it closely enough, and it had something he couldn't eat, and now he was considering the validity of calling the whole thing off for himself and going back up to the ship to pretend that he wasn't having a reaction to it. Or, maybe he was trying to think of the best possible insult to grant him after the meal. Well, two can play at that, Spock! Yours is—well, it was perfect. It was just great; he couldn't think of a bad thing to say that wasn't just insulting himself for not having a Vulcan tolerance. 

Maybe Spock was thinking the same thing. Well, not exactly the same thing. 

Maybe Spock was thinking that he wished he'd tried his cooking sooner. Maybe, just like McCoy was, he was wishing that they’d just cooked for each other so they didn't have to worry about leaving out all the other wonderful things there were to eat on their plates. 

No, not Spock. The man doesn't even eat breakfast. He only ever eats what he needs to survive unless it's in the name of being diplomatic. It seemed inconceivable that the Vulcan could be thinking of something so worldly as having another bite of something delicious. 

“Since when are you a slow eater, Bones?” Jim remarked, nudging his shoulder knowingly. 

“It's called pacing yourself, Jim. Good for big meals like this. ‘N I'll recommend it to you if you don't slow down.” he gestured to Jim's half finished plate. “You even chewing? You're gonna give yourself a stomach ache.”

Jim huffed with a bit of amusement, both of them knowing that McCoy was just crabby about being caught staring at Spock and wondering what he thought of his food.

Leonard took a bite of something else on the plate to avoid more ridicule, listening as Jim turned to Spock and said, “not hungry, Spock?” 

Whatever game he was playing. 

Sure, everything at the potluck that McCoy had put on his plate tasted incredible. There wasn't a single thing he regretted, even the things that squirmed under his fork—a bit like octopus with soy sauce, he considered, and he knew better than to be put off—but nothing stuck in his head quite like Spock's silly little spicy vegetable dish. He was embarrassed, finding his thoughts drifting over and over again to a hypothetical situation of him walking up to Spock and asking about the recipe.

On one hand, it felt a whole lot like praising the enemy. The little game that they played that neither of them were supposed to really win didn't work that way. Sure, the occasional compliment on the other's competency slipped out on occasion. But asking the man to make him dinner was a whole ‘nother thing. It was so… domestic. And the thought of sitting down in one of their quarters over a Vulcan meal that Spock had put so much time and effort into preparing seemed a bit too much like him asking Spock on a date for his comfort. Although, it didn't sound like a bad date. It sounded like a very good date. In fact, it sounded like the best possible date with Spock he could think of in that moment.

In that train of thought, he considered that it might even be a bit of a show of strength on his part; a brag that he was able to handle it. One of his ways of teasing him that was more of a compliment, despite its disguise as a boast.

He thought back and forth on it until just about everyone at their table had finished everything on their plates. Not that he noticed until Spock intruded behind him.

“Doctor.” 

He looked back over his shoulder at Spock, playing with the last thing on his plate with his fork. “Spock,” he acknowledged.

“We will be in orbit of this planet for 57 more of your Earth hours. I intend to acknowledge your challenge. You will inform me of what time would work best for you. Then, we will meet and you will prepare a dish for me that you believe would adequately test my Vulcan taste buds.”

He was stunned for a moment, of course. Spock had beat him to it. He practically did everything but schedule the date. But McCoy was too quick a thinker to sit there with his mouth hanging open about it. “All right, Spock. Only if you take me to the market and show off your fancy Vulcan veggies and spices.” He wouldn't let Spock be in charge of the whole situation without a fight.

“Acceptable,” Spock immediately acknowledged, almost as if he would accept any condition.

“And, one more thing.” McCoy pushed his luck.

“Yes?” Spock shifted uncomfortably, as if he was worried- if McCoy didn't know better than to think such a thing about a distinguished Vulcan like Spock. 

“You're gonna make this for me again the night after we leave orbit.”

[scramjettracy]

Another page full of asks this evening, all pretty much the same... so let me say this again:

…

We cannot comment publicly on the details of our operations.

Especially one that is so recent and regarding which there are likely to be formal investigations by various bodies.

We are devastated by every life lost, whether or not we ever had any chance of saving them. We have been there. We know that pain. And nothing we can say or do will make it better for those suffering right now. We did our best but we wish we could have done more.

I will not reply to and thus make public the string of posts I have had purporting to describe the victims of the terrible tragedy yesterday. To do so would be incredibly disrespectful at a time when the families haven’t even had 24 hours for the change in their lives to sink in.

I will not provide fuel for your soulless click-bait. Every single life lost is precious, regardless of how sellable their story might be.

Similarly I will not give credence or publicity to the spurious (and frankly nonsensical) allegations made on zero evidence against our hard-working operatives, myself included. If the GDF have any concerns about our approach they will raise it with me and appropriate improvements will be made.

That is all I am able and willing to say on the matter. The GDF will release any further details it deems appropriate.

Until that time please be advised that we will treat any further badgering of our operatives as harassment and report it accordingly.

[fablepaint]

Another post came out on BackerKit yesterday with information about the pins that were sold last spring, and again no word on what's up with the pins that were sold on BackerKit. Is everything okay with them?

We've been trying to get those previous pins delivered since last summer. The ramifications of the pandemic and the shuffling of work spaces must've affecting more factories than we thought cuz the things that are normally straightforward in merch production ran into a kajillion snarls we had to (sometimes literally) manually untangle to get our products into customers' hands.

Basically, think up every nightmare scenario that could happen to a pin and apply it to those chevrons. It's been the cause of many sleepless nights as Tracy, Spike, and I tugged at the ropes as hard as we could. What should've taken 3 months max turned into 9 months of hell.

As for the BK pins, we were informed there was a new production process that would make them look better, but it required totally reconfiguring the files we had into something better suited.

It's been a bit overwhelming getting a studio off the ground like this, and there's nobody who wants those things out the door more than us (It's one less thing to worry about). We've been trying to get appropriate help with the tasks, but sometimes getting assistance from one person can turn into needing help from another two, and so on and so forth.

You end up having to pick and choose where the majority of your focus goes when each task eats up at least 10% of your time, and there's more than 10 things to do in a day (including eating and sleeping). And that's while delegating as much as you can.

One of these days we'll have folks who can take those tasks on all on their own without it requiring a full week of individual focus. But that'll take time to manifest.

TLDR: we're working on it, we haven't forgotten, but we are extremely exhausted.

[idv-sweethearts]

Glad we're in agreement haha! Consider me a loyal customer since I have notifications on and RUNN here when you post

You'll never guess who I'm here to request(it's luchino 😞) I like my men a little protective and you're the first person to indulge my luchino crave so you could write luchino getting a little jealous and possessive during a match?

Also I've never been a recurring anon before I've seen some sign off with an emoji should I do that?

Luchino (Professor) Getting Protective ☕️

Notes: I do recommend that you find yourself a nickname or an emoji or something of that nature to sign your asks. I do enjoy having a loyal customer. Might I suggest something to do with reptiles? Btw, I'm so eager to write for Luchino today as I had a very interesting series of thoughts yesterday while zoning out into the wood patterns of the living room table. Cannibalism is bad in most situations, it's not vegan, and the only difference between humans and animals is intelligence, but that doesn't matter to vegans ^_^. Probably. I'm not vegan.

Luchino is not normally so reckless or irrational. So long as he can wrap his head around something, he can be rational about it. Relaxed, even. He was, in canon, transformed slowly into a human-sized, bipedal reptile and carried on as though nothing objectively horrifying had happened.

It makes sense. Humans are little different from animals, so why be concerned when one becomes the other? Even "human" intelligence, the only major difference between the two, is only present because it gives humans an advantage. And how prideful humans are to think the distance between them and a lizard isn't the same as a rodent and the bird that hunts it?

Unlike his immeasurable interest in reptiles and evolution, social interactions are illogical and difficult to navigate. He does his best to calculate the most appropriate expressions and words and gestures, but there are still things he can find no logic in.

What is logical to him, however, is that it takes only a moment for a calm, reasonable scene to decompose into a unmanageable hellscape comparable in sense to a nightmare. And it takes even less time for a human to become something truly horrid. Or perhaps all beings this way, hiding their true nature behind kind words and gentle smiles.

So, today, what is Luchino? He is a Survivor, always at your side either physically or figuratively, from the moment he realized he had grown fond of you. He aids you in every way he can, as he'd hate to see you suffer. He's always watching and listening during matches to determine your approximate location. It is better to know than to not know, he thinks. And if you need it, he'll drop everything to ensure your safety, as he has done today.

Furthermore, who are you? You are a Survivor, like him. And, in the chaos of it all, you've been cast aside. Left to die for the sake of a "victory" they may not even achieve, but where is any victory at all in an outcome where you must die so they can leave?

And finally, who are they? They, Hunters and Survivors barely different in this situation, are selfish scum who would prioritize their own lives and wishes over yours. Well, to say they're all so terrible would be hypocritical, as it seems Luchino has prioritized your life over all of theirs, his included. If his life were to conclude, in this hellscape or nightmare or whatever you want to call it, then he's satisfied with that outcome if it means you live to see another day.

So, only one question remains. Who, in this frenzy, is the monster, if there is even a difference between humans and monsters at all? Is the true monster the "Hunter", the more literal monster, who brought you so close to death? Those two other Survivors who left you to die, but were soon torn from the victory they yearned for before they had the chance to struggle or even crawl? Or Luchino himself, who lifted you from the chair, from the depths of Hell they were willing to leave you in, and pulled you toward the exit without even looking back at the nightmarish state he left the others in?

Perhaps you, who witnessed every desperate murmur, every panicked scream, and every dying breath as your beloved partner traded a win for a tie, could provide some kind of answer.

[rival-rook]

So, last week, just before my birthday, I developed dysphagia, gastroparesis, and ileus due to a weird viral infection (came with a fever and sinus inflammation but nothing else). In layman's terms, this basically means all of the muscles in my entire GI tract have stopped working - esophagus is not moving food to the stomach, stomach is not opening to allow food nor is it opening to release food, and my intestines are not moving things along, just being inflamed and full of gas.

This is obviously deeply uncomfortable, I have been on a liquid diet and barely reaching BMR, on top of being dehydrated bc plain water causes a lot of pain (adding a neutral-basic substance to high acid environment=bad).

On top of that, I am not a layman, and therefore I know that generally this suite of symptoms are associated with the Big Bad Diagnoses and once they show up they are frequently lifelong and not infrequently fatal. I also know that my history and symptoms don't match any of the Big Bads and it's more likely a weirdly dramatic response to viral inflammation, and I think we confirmed that with my doctor today. She's an osteopath who used to specialize in post-GI surgical care and felt that my intestines responded to manipulation in a way that was more similar to inflamed intestines than intestines that are no longer enervated. I would tend to agree and also she relieved so much pain today, I can take deep breaths again.

However, she hasn't seen or heard of this before. She expects that if there's no active damage being done, the inflammation should be mostly resolved in a week or two, but that's based on physiological knowledge rather than specific disease etiology.

So I'm having a lot of emotions. Anxiety, bc these are serious issues that I don't have a solid timeline on resolving. Anxiety 2, bc any time my body does something weird I become paralyzed with fear that this is going to spiral into profound disability again. Shame about Anxiety 2 bc I feel like I'm being dramatic and also being paralyzed with fear makes me feel bad about myself. Concerned that this is going to trigger an eating disorder relapse. Excited that I get to relapse "legitimately" and the fact that I've been on half rations for awhile is relieving the thoughts around how much weight I've gained since getting back from Vermont. Concerned bc I'm already feeling some of the emotional effects of calorie restriction (weepy+fussy) and physical (so tired.) Shame bc I feel like I should be done being sick and I'm tired of cancelling things I really want to do and also bc I look fine and I do feel ok as long as I haven't eaten recently. So I feel like I'm letting ppl down for no reason/I should be toughing it out more. ???Bad bc this is the eating disorder dream and why can't I be functional while doing it (aka being confronted with the reality that I can't indulge my disorder in a safe way which is so scary). Fussy bc I don't actually feel sick so I still want to do things but then I do and I'm uncomfortable/tired/frustrated immediately. Shame about just lying on the couch so much. Fear bc I want to start T and I'm in the process of applying to vet school and I can't do either of those things if I keep having organ systems shutting down (I really thought my lungs were doing better but they're apparently still not deflating appropriately).

Logically I can see that if someone told me they had these symptoms I would be like "why are you not in a hospital" (as long as I can keep up on calories and liquid reasonably it's not necessary). But I'm the one experiencing it and it's not that bad so why can't I do more stuff. Even though I worked full time this week and went to a doctor appointment today and OT yesterday. But I cancelled hanging out with my bestie on her birthday today so I feel really bad about that.

Idk. I just want to feel better. Except for the part of me that wants to starve to death. I'd say that's the core of the issue lol.

[oniondip420]

Yarn Log - Mini Hyperbolic Paraboloid

Background & Thoughts

After my experience doing the coaster in a single day, I again felt like doing just a tiny crochet project that I could speed through. I’ve always wanted to do one of the hyperbolic plane curly guys, but searching on Ravelry only turned up paid patterns or ones that were technically hosted on other sites. The app on my phone I use to actually hold the patterns I’m working on (knitCompanion) can only automatically import free Ravelry downloads, so I opted for this instead.

A hyperbolic paraboloid is the mathematical name for the kind of saddle shaped surface that you may recognize as the Pringles shape. As a former math major I think they’re pretty cool, and it seemed like a good substitute for the actual hyperbolic plane I was searching for. Plus, it was a really small project, so I could once again bang it out start to finish in a single day.

Once again, I used my 4.25mm crochet hook, but this time I used the medium weight yarn I had left over from The Blanket™ (post still incoming! I just am queuing up a few smaller yarn logs in the mean time lol). The only new maneuver in the pattern was the sc2tog, which was pretty easy to google and execute.

Something you may notice in the above picture is that my result barely resembles the target shape lol. I can think of a few explanations for this, all relating to yarn tension:

I generally messed up the yarn tension, which I already know I need to work on (see yesterday’s coaster post)

I improperly handled the sc2tog’s as the mirror reverse of the doubled-up sc stitches (to increase the stitch count back up on the latter half). This may have caused the weird curling

What is certainly clear though, is that I used the wrong size of crochet hook. Looking at another small roll of the same yarn in a different color that I’ve yet to take off the packaging for, it recommends using a 5mm crochet hook for the medium weight yarn. This means that using the hook itself to measure my gauge as I was working resulted in it being too tight, which also likely combined with the sc2tog and general yarn tension issues to produce this outcome.

UPDATE ON LAST POINT SINCE I FIRST DRAFTED THIS: I did it again with the yarn I used for the coaster (which seemed the right weight for the hook size), and the shape is still bogus. So while I still think the hook size was an issue, at this point I think either it’s a flaw in the pattern itself, or the same general tension issue from the tiny swatch I made with the coaster. Not including a pic of that, bc it’s basically the same just slightly smaller and purple.

Since this piece is not meant to lie flat, I am unable to block it into a better shape. So I’m just accepting it as it is lol

Major lessons learned:

I need to continue working on my yarn tension problems before working on a bigger project. My hyperfixation-specific perfectionism-triggered affective disorder would easily undermine any triumphs I’d make if the tension is messed up on a project I care more about, and I don’t want to set myself up for avoidable depression lol.

I need to obtain a more complete set of crochet needles. I have a good set of smaller ones, but after my bookmark experience, no way in hell will I be using the tiny-ass weighted yarn that would be appropriate for those. This 4.25mm is what I carry in my active projects bag to handle mistakes and to fasten the outside tail of when I make center-pull yarn balls. It worked with the yarn weight I used yesterday for the coaster, but I don’t have a lot left of that kind. My next hook size up is 6.5mm, for heftier yarn weights. So if I want to be crocheting with the yarn weights I commonly have on hand, I really am gonna have to invest in different sizes. Bleh, money. I have since made the purchase and am waiting for it to arrive.

Sometimes it seems, pattern makers will not tell you explicitly to do the turning stitch when going to the next row. This hasn't really been an issue for me since, due to me working in a spiral ever since then, but I have gotten a lot more observant about stitch counts when reading patterns.

Pattern

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Drama CD - Hijikata Biyori Track 11

Well, guess who passed out early on Sunday when she intended to translate then just couldn't afford the time to translate until now? 😅 Anyway, I'm going to work on a number of the Biyoris since they're short so I can actually put out a few things on time or schedule... because I'm going to be pretty occupied until the May 2nd (presumably), though I did rush this a bit.

Also, I'm pretty sure that the Hijikata Biyori tracks that remain untranslated are tracks: 12, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 25, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 35, 36 and whatever the Sendai [?] thing was [if memory serves, it's a dialogue with only Harada and Shinpachi]. Please let me know if I'm missing something... or if I included a number of one that was already translated.

This post is to make up for last week! Will start working on the post for this week in a bit since I actually have some time today!

Hakuoki Drama - Hijikata Biyori Track 11: Letter [according to jisho, the JP 文 can alternatively be interpreted as 'texts', 'writing' or 'literary arts'. sorta leaning towards the last one because of Hakumyu LIVE]

Translation by KumoriYami

Harada: Ahh.... so sleepy.

Toudou: You drank too much yesterday, Sano-san.

Harda: Heisuke, aren't you the same?

Toudou: I don't drink until I get hungover.

Hijkata: It's already lively this early in the morning. [added in "already" for sentence flow]

Toudou: Uwah, Hijijkata-san.

Hijikata: Did you go to Shimabara last night?

Harada: Ah.... yeah. Do you have something to say about that [the word here I have translates to "idea / opinion / suggestion / objection / complaint" so I changed that to something more in line what I thought would be appropriate for the character]

Hijikata: No comment/No objections [same explanation as last line] . At this time, the organization is always changing, which has made things chaotic. It's fine to relax once in a while, but… ahh…

Harada: But... what.

Hijkata: It's fine to loosen up, but don't overdue it. In the future, you'll be shouldering the Shinsengumi's reputation, and be making achievements in Kyoto [reword later?]. You guys, you're in the position of being role models for the rest of the troop.

Harada: U-Uh... Toudou: I get it, Hijikata-san. Don't stare at us like that so early in the morning.

Hijikata: Ah, right. Hm? What is it?

Toudou: Um, These letters are are from the Shimabara nee-sans [check audio. the word I have is 'elder sisters' so I'm pretty sure that this fine…]. One, two, three, four. Here, for you.

Hijikata: Ah, yes. What a hassle/You've worked hard.

Harada: Hijikata-san, aren't you enjoying yourself to some extent?

Hijikata: But I don't go overboard. Well then.

Toudou: Ah, he escaped.

Harada: He really has a lot of tricks up his sleeve. He lectures people then runs away. That's right, Heisuke, let's storm into Hijikata-san's room together.

Toudou: Why? Harada: I'm sure he has a smile on his face as he reads those letters right now. Let's go and check it out.

Toudou: Ah, Sano-san, wait!

Harada:...How is it it?

Toudou: He seems to be writing something.

Harada: Oh? Has he already started writing his reply? How about it?

Toudou: Hey, wait, San-san...ah!

Hijikata: What are you two doing!

Harada: Ah, no, um...

Toudou: W-We wanted to see what Hijikata-san is doing. Lo-Look, you've been busy with a lot of work lately. We were wondering if there was something we could help you with…

Harada: Yes, that's right!

Hijikata: I see, you're just in time then. What I writing just now...

Harada: Eh? It's okay to look? Then...

Hijikata: I'd love to hear your opinions.

Toudou: Eh?

Hijikata: Hurry, read it.

Harada: First/One, it's forbidden to violate Bushido.

Toudou: First/One, leaving the Shinsengumi is strictly forbidden.

Harada: What is this!

Hijikata: The number of members of the Shinsengumi will increase in the future. In order to provide better leadership, I wanted to write down some rules that the Shinsengumi members must abide by. I was just working on a draft.

Toudou: Eh? What? Will you need to commit seppuku if you violate them?

Hijikata: Ah. As a samurai, you must pay with your life. Harada: That makes sense, though isn't that too harsh?

Hijikata: Well, both of you sit down. I'll explain what I haven't written down yet. If there are things that disrupt the troop affairs, I plan on having them banned. Additionally, meaningless fights are also unproductive…

Toudou: Where is the response.*

Harada: Don't say that.*

Hijikata: I will especially not tolerate fights within the Shinsengumi. I don't have time for that sort of thing. Also…*

[*I'm not entirely sure about these last bits since one of the tls I saved has this in an order where it looks like that some of the lines might overlap/have things spoken in the background. will fix them later after I hear the audio.]

-----end-----

also, ive been so busy that i havent even gotten around to organizing my latest merch haul... only got around to organizing the bromides.

[mysticsparklewings]

OhuHueVember Week 1 💛

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Featuring Johanna Basford’s 30 Days Of Flowers 💐

In case you thought I forgot about this challenge: Nope! I decided early on it would be best for me to only do the *posts* once a week since that’s the part that really wore me out during October. 😵‍💫

…I also wanted to post this yesterday, but suffice to say this past week was a wild ride so it just wasn’t possible. 😅 

Same as always: Click the "Keep Reading" and we'll talk a bit more about my general thoughts/process. ✨

Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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Featured Ohuhu Colors:

Day 1: GY6 Anise

Day 2: Y3 Barium Yellow

Day 3: Y1 Pastel Yellow

Day 4: YR2 Marigold

Day 5: YR4 Salmon Pink

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Did any of you Sparklers question if I just posted the prompt list for OhuHueVember and then forgot all about it? 😆

If you read my epic-length write-up when I posted the list, probably not, but for those who saw that wall of text and understandably said, "no thank you," this post itself should make it pretty obvious: Nope, I didn't forget!

At the tail end of the super long write-up, I disclosed that while I would be doing OhuHueVember daily, I would only be making posts once a week since it was the daily posting that wore me out the most during Inktober.

...And for the record, I wanted to make this post yesterday, the true "end" of OhuHueVember Week 1 (at least the way I laid the days out) but, naturally, this past week was one heck of a wild ride in my offline life (and not for the reasons you'd assume if you're from the US) and so I begrudgingly came to the difficult conclusion that "waiting one more day to post won't hurt."

That's also why this post is considerably later in the evening than I had hoped—I thought doing them once a week would mean I could at least get the weekly posts out around lunch time!—and I was also unable to post at least two other things I was hoping to have finished this week. 🫠

With those things in mind, I hope you Sparklers will understand that I'm going to handle the rest of this description as briefly as I can manage so that I can go ahead and get this posted and go about the rest of my evening—So if I seem to be jumping around a bit more than usual, that's why. Hopefully, next week will be a bit of a different story (in a positive way).

As also stated towards the end of my super-long OhuHueVember write up: "I've been wanting to get back into just coloring in Adult Coloring books (or single pages made for that audience) occasionally, as I've unintentionally moved away from that hobby for a few years when I used to do it all the time. When I first started, the hobby was still pretty new and niche, and sharing finished pages felt "wrong" to try and mix in with my regular art posts, but things have noticeably changed since then.

And in particular, using Ohuhu markers in adult coloring books has actually become pretty common.

So that's part of what I'm going to do to try and scale this challenge back...I've printed out Johanna Basford's 30 Days of Flowers on small, 2.5" x 3.5" cuts of my favorite mixed media paper—Artist Trading Card size!—and those are what I'm going to color for the month." I did try to find some information on what each of these 30 flowers is supposed to be so that I could better match the OhuHueVember colors to the appropriate ones, but I couldn't find anything definitive for every single one and I didn't have the patience (or time, for that matter, considering I was running way behind on prep for the challenge as it was) to try and manually research each one. So I ended up using what finished colorings Johanna had posted as a starting reference, then made adjustments and filled in the blanks based on a combination of feelings and what I thought would work best for the marker colors. (Which as you'll see later in the month proved to be a bit of a challenge for the greens, but I'm getting way ahead of myself.) You'll notice though that I didn't use just the single Color of the Day. I used the light/dark blends that I also listed in the Spreadsheet for the challenge, plus I'm using my old 72 set of Schpirerr Farben pencils for any additional color beyond the three markers for each day. I meant it when I said you could use as many other colors as you want for the challenge, because I knew I myself wouldn't be able to resist the temptation! 🤭

And in case anyone cares, I'm going with the Schpirerr Farben instead of my true favorite Prismacolor partly because I just want to use them more—they are my third favorite behind Prismacolor and the Brutfuner Macarons (which you Sparklers have yet to hear me talk about, but I promise it is on the to-do list!) afterall—but also because the 72 selection is more limited and therefore a tiny bit more challenging than the Prismas would be. And I semi-recently set them up in a zipper case so they're easier to reach for than they used to be.

Believe it or not, the backgrounds were actually the most difficult thing to decide. And I'm still not 100% sure they'll stay exactly as they are. 😅

I thought about either using the Color of the Day itself, or maybe during the Weekly Colors for each flower for that week, but both of those had trivial problems I couldn't think my way around when I did some experiments on a test sheet.

And I did not want to spend a whole lot of time or color on the backgrounds outside of those options either way because I didn't want to take any more attention away from whatever the Color of the Day would be than necessary.

So ultimately, this soft cool gray with a gel pen outline was where I landed. But I'm still debating if I want to go back and add stars/sparkles with the white gel pen to each one too, as I did that a lot in my smaller tests to try and jazz things up a little. I've held off for now because once I got these actual cards done with just the white outline, I liked them more without the stars than I expected...But I'm just not ready to fully close the door on the star idea yet. So at the end of the month, if you see some stars have magically appeared on these, you'll know why!

Oh: And if you couldn't tell, one more way I'm attempting to limit how difficult this challenge is for me is by just photographing each week's 5 flower cards together instead of trying to scan and then color-correct each one. The photos still need some slight tweaks—especially on days like today where it was gloomy overcast and I couldn't photograph in natural light—but it's an order of magnitude less work than trying to scan, crop, and correction each one would be.

I might bother to scan them all at the end of the month for optimal preservation, but I make no promises.

Beyond all that, I'm trying to just handle each day in whatever way I think gives the Color of the Day a chance to shine while still making the final look something I like. Which is a relevant thing to say because YR2/Day 4 and YR4/Day 5 here are not typically colors I would pick for coloring flowers; I was really worried about how both of them would turn out, but YR4 might actually be my favorite of this batch! YR2 is probably still my least favorite just because it's so earthy, but if I pretend the earthiness of the color doesn't bother me, I do still think it turned out nice.

And if you're wondering what happened with the leaves for Y1/Day 3, I was trying to switch things up a bit with a more jewel-tone dark teal and some pink like what I now know are called Caladium plants. It's weird and not really what I had in mind, but I actually still like the results quite a bit.

I think until we hit the actual green colors on the list, that's going to be one of the trickier parts of choosing to handle this challenge with flower illustrations—Figuring out how to keep the stems and leaves from all looking the same. 🤔

But hey, I feel like I managed decently enough here, so maybe I'm anticipating a bigger problem than I should be. Only one way to find out...!

One last thing I will say: As I sort of expected, for as chaotic as everything else in life has been, yeah being able to sit down and just worry about putting colors together in a way that looks nice has tended to be a welcome little reprieve each day. And also expected, not having to worry about posting every day has been kind of a relief, even though I've still had plenty of other stuff on my plate—See what I mentioned before about not having at least two other things done and posted by now that I wanted to. 😅

So now it's that time again for me to leave you Sparklers to chew on what I've laid out here while I move onto cross-posting. I may only be doing it once a week this month, but that doesn't really change how involved the process itself is when the time comes.

Either way, whether you've chosen to join me on this colorful adventure in some way or not, I hope we've all started the month off as strongly as we can and that if nothing else, we can all look forward to some more forthcoming colorful flowers. 💐

I'll see you all again definitely next week, but with any luck, hopefully a little sooner than that! 👋

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See the Prompt List

Coloring/Photo by MysticSparkleWings (me)

Linework from Johanna Basford's 30 Days of Flowers

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⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️