#Matte Textured Cards

[akshayaquapri]

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[eclecticjaceart]

i decided to expand on the ace attorney balatro deck @okartichoke made!

full texture can be found here!

[Image description: Pixel-art playing cards featuring Ace Attorney characters and items. Iris is Jack of hearts, Pearl is queen of hearts, Dahlia is queen of clubs, and the magatama is ace of hearts.

Engarde is jack of clubs, Godot is jack of spades, Manfred is king of clubs, and the Blue Badger is ace of clubs.

Diego is jack of diamonds, Mia is queen of diamonds, Franziska is queen of spades, and the ace of spades is the prosecutor's badge. End description.]

thank you @quailfence for the id!

[quapriprinting]

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[bernardsbendystraws]

Dangerous

Synopsis: you and Matt are just friends…right?

Warnings: TENSION!

A/N: This is a prologue fic based on Fresh Air, a series made by me!!! It can be read as a standalone!!!

ʚ with love and big tits, Rose ɞ

Rain pelted gently against the window of Matt’s room. The singular lamp in the corner brought a warm glow, pooling around the bed sheets that we had been sitting on for hours at this point. It’s so peaceful. Our knees almost touching, a half-finished card game forgotten towards the foot of the bed, words flowing effortlessly into the air. 

He’s so…close. 

I can’t even remember what he’s saying. As soon as his hand brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear, I go blank, forgetting everything and anything except for how gentle he looks. 

“Thank you,” I whisper, looking into his eyes as he offers me a soft smile, “-for tonight. I…I really needed a distraction.” 

The fight with my boyfriend is at the back of my mind. Hayden’s harsh words seep further away from my conscious thoughts, Matt’s eyes starting to hypnotize every lingering anxieties to the back of my mind. 

I hated how good it felt. It felt too good, it felt guilty - it felt like pure bliss. 

“Anytime. You know that.” His words are brutally innocent, the slight glow of light reflecting in his eyes pulling me into a trance. 

He meant it. Matt had shown me time and time again, he would always be there. And that…that felt really good. 

For a moment, the comforting words linger in the air between us. My gaze lingers on him, long enough to make it too hard to look away. Matt shifts slightly, moving to rest his forearm on his knee, turning towards me. I feel something in the pit of my gut drop as he stares into my eyes. His face is even closer, close enough that I could see the faint texture of his skin, close enough to see how his eyes softened while meeting my own. 

“You, um…” he breathes, his eyes wander around my face before pulling back up. 

His voice isn’t tentative, but it’s not confident either. It’s something in between, something that made my chest ache. 

Swallowing thickly, the drum of my pulse quickens. “Yeah?” I whisper, suddenly breathless as tension makes the air seem thinner.  

The air around us feels fragile, like it could shatter with the wrong word. I find myself losing the ability to think, subconsciously letting myself fall in towards him, my stomach swarming with butterflies as he starts to lean in too. 

“This is, uh…this is…dangerous.” My voice is barely above a whisper, slightly trembling, but I couldn’t find it in myself to pull away. 

Matt’s eyes stare into mine daringly, yet uncertain. “I know,” he replies, his voice thick, his breath brushing against my skin. 

I feel his hand hover near mine, close enough to feel the heat of his touch, but he doesn’t close the gap. And he wouldn’t. The look in his eyes told me he was waiting for permission, my permission. 

It aches. The drum in my chest seems to become even more prominent, my heart feeling as if it was trying to lurch out of my body. 

Fuck. This is wrong. 

A slow rip of a bandaid is what it feels like as I lean back, creating the smallest distance between us. “I, um - I should go,” I mutter. 

Matt nods, his jaw tightening as he straightens himself to sit upward. “Yeah, I - yeah, right,” he says, brushing his hand through his hair as his eyes peel away from mine.

Neither of us move. The air is still so daunting, the aura feeling impossibly intimidating. 

Standing up, I grab my coat. I hear Matt start to follow behind me as I walk towards the door, our footsteps echoing in the silent home. My hand lands on the knob of the door. I feel his presence behind me, a sullen murmur of sadness silently exchanged. 

Why couldn’t it be us? 

I start to pull open the door, hesitating for a moment as I catch his glance once last time by peeking over my shoulder. “Matt?” I ask. 

He swallows, his eyes darting to mine with a questioning glance. “Yeah?”

My lips curl into a small smile, a sad smile. “Thank you,” I mention again, taking another step forward before I can consider turning around. 

It should’ve been us. 

A/N: thank you for reading!! Any interaction is appreciated and pls don’t steal my work <333

[gilverrwrites]

Meet Cute Uglies [Bruce]

AN: Shout out to @luckyarchaeologist whose comments inspired me to go a completely different direction to what I had envisioned.🩷 And everyone else who reblogged/comments/voted for a part 2! I hope it lives up 🩷

GN!Reader/Bruce Wayne, 1.6K Words [2/?]

Part One >[Here]<

CWs: Mild/nonexplicit threats of violence, teasing

His hands are soft, and warm, soothing the tension from your body as he uses them to cup your face and hold you steady as he pushes closer, pressing your body deeper into the wall with his broad chest. Up close you can see a smattering of his five o’clock stubble coming through, even under the dim slivers of moonlight breaking through the gloomy alley. You note a hint of coffee on his breath before his lips brush against-

Loud banging at your apartment door startles you awake. Tired eyes sluggishly take in the time on the nearest clock, you’re barely able to process the numbers before the knocks come again. It’s too early. It’s your day of for goodness’ sake and it sounds like someone is trying to break down your door with their fists. When you answer it’s an equally disgruntled delivery driver. They ask your name before bombarding you with a large box and snapping a proof of delivery photo. You ponder your unkempt morning appearance and pray the sender of this parcel doesn’t ever check that photo.

It was almost certainly not from you because you hadn’t ordered anything, especially not anything this big. You don’t recognise the logo, but it, the matte black tape, and the distinct florally smell permeating from the smooth white container tells you that whatever is inside is expensive. That or it’s a trap, designed to lure you in with its unsuspecting exterior, then BAM Ivy toxin or Joker gas. You’re not dumb, you’ve seen the PSAs.

30 minutes, one morning brew, one disposable mask, one sharp knife, 2 gloves, and a whole lot of nerve later you gently remove the contents from its packaging. It’s wrapped in a layer of security card and glittery tissue paper but it’s pretty evident what it is. It’s a very nice bouquet of flowers. A mix of carnations, hyacinths, and baby’s-breath, already sitting in a pretty crystal vase that probably cost more than your rent.  A gold envelope stands out amongst the colourful petals, and you fork it out to read despite being certain you already know who it's from. Nobody else in your life would spend this much money on flowers for you, even if it were a special occasion. The repercussions of telling your name to a stranger, even a famous stranger, who you’d known of all your life, but never known hadn’t occurred to you until you see it printed in foil against the high-quality textured card.

“As you understandably didn’t allow me the chance to apologise last night, please accept these as a token of my penitence. Regards, B.W.”

You’re not sure which irks you most, him cornering you in a dark alley in the first place, his seeking you out to apologise in an unsettlingly short amount of time, the absurd display of wealth, his pretentiously unironic use of the word ‘Penitence’, or the fact that you kinda liked it. The fact that you’d spend the night dreaming about slivers of moonlight and soft hands that didn’t exist. In actual fact, the remainder of the scene had been clumsy and anticlimactic.

“Who are you?” He demands. “And why are you following me?” You squint to read his expressions, barely able to make him out under the faint light of apartment windows high above your figures. There's a disconnect between the upper and lower halves of his face that adds to your already heightened nerves. His jaw and lips remain in an ever-present scowl, but steely blue eyes seem to soften as you tell him your name. “I'm not following you.” Your voice is stunted, weak due to the unrelenting pressure actual billionaire Bruce Wayne is applying to it. “I swear! It’s a coincidence.” He seems to believe you, or at least, he doesn’t consider you much of a threat because his grip loosens enough for you to find your footing again. Before he can change his mind, you scramble out of there, almost tripping on your accidentally discarded bag on the way. Whatever is up with him is not your problem. “I-“ “Save it.” Creep. You’re not interested in his apologies or excuses. You’re just an average person trying to make their way in the crime capital of the world, probably. It’s a miracle he didn’t put you in an early grave due to a heart attack. You could see the headlines now: ‘Playboy Billionaire Charged with Manslaughter: Officials unsure why he corned innocent Gothamite’ which is to presume a man with as much wealth as Bruce Wayne would ever be charged with a crime. Rich, ill-mannered, paranoid, handsome, creep. “Just stay away from me.”

As you stand motionless, relaying the events of the previous night in your head, it occurs to you that there's still something in the envelope, something slightly smaller and thicker than the apology card. You slip it out and flip it between your fingers, a gift card to the coffee shop you’d first seen him in, with a pre-paid value high enough to keep you and all your colleagues caffeinated for the rest of the year, if not longer.

The remainder of your day is spent relocating the two gifts between errands and relaxation time. The gift card is inserted and removed from the card section of your wallet so many times you’ve probably incidentally rubbed off its magnetic strip. Accepting it, and using it wasn’t bad, not really. He wasn’t buying you or your forgiveness it's just a show good intent, not to mention it was basically pocket change to a man with that much money.

But it did feel a little bit like being bought.

And the flowers reminded you of that conflict every time you looked at them, so they made their way onto every feasible surface and counter until you found a spot with enough light to keep them alive that wasn’t in plain sight 90% of the time. Maybe you could sell or donate the vase once the flowers are dead. It really did make the rest of your living space look shabby-er in comparison.  Or maybe you could paint it to match the rest of its new home, cover it in acrylic paint and use it to hold anything else. If you ever see Bruce again you could show him a photo, see if he really did give it in good faith to be used however you pleased, or if it makes him uncomfortable.

In fact, on your next day back at work you’re scrolling through Pinterest for design inspiration as you queue up for the first of many Wayne-funded drinks when you sense it. Him. The enticing scent of his cologne clueing you into his presence. You cast a look over your shoulder and there he is, smiling at you with perfect white teeth. He seems more casual today, his hair still perfectly styled but appearing free of any products, his suit traded in for just the slacks and button-up. Once again, you’re reminded of his player image, it’s not hard to tell why so many people swoon all over him.

“Oh, hello.” He greets, raising his hand as though to wave at you. His fingers don’t look nearly as soft as you’d imagined. They look sturdy and calloused, strange for a man who guzzles champagne and stands behind a podium, smiling for photographers more days than not. Paperwork does not account for skin that thick. “I was hoping to run into you here.”

“Really?” Internally you’re suspicious, but your voice comes out an octave higher than usual, your skin growing warm under his gaze. It’s stupid to think that he’s pursuing you, flirting with you. He’s probably just looking for closure on his apology, ensuring you don’t slander his image by selling the story to the papers. He really is buying you. Your silence. “Why?”

“I was hoping I could buy you a drink.” And without your confirmation he sides steps around you, joining you in your spot amongst everybody else waiting to be served.

“You’re already buying me coffee.” You flash him the gift card he’d paid for. “Or did you forget casually dropping this much cash?”

He laughs at that, like you’ve made a joke. He’s deflecting? Maybe. But he sounds so genuine, so hearty it’s contagious. Your laugh isn’t as cheery as his, but it slips past your lips regardless.

“No, no. I didn’t forget. I couldn’t forget anything about you. Especially not after seeing you in that delivery photo.” He finishes with a wink. That was flirting, definitely flirting. Or maybe an insult. Either way, you’re feeling just as nervous, if not more than you had been that night in the alley. This is just a different kind of nerves, it’s the butterflies in your belly instead of the pit in your stomach kind. “What’s one more between new friends, huh?”

“Friends?” You raise your brows. He does not have the decency to look sheepish under your dubious stare, he just looks back at you calm and collected, just like he is on the TV. A few days ago, you might have bought it, but you’ve seen him lose his cool in person. Something feels off.

“I’d like to be friends, or I’d at least like to apologise in person. If you’ll let me.” For a man so bent on making amends with you, there isn’t a hint of sorrow in his tone or posture.

It’s almost your turn at the counter, you have seconds to make your decision.

The barista gestures for the next customer, as you answer. “Okay fine, let’s be friends.”

“Excellent. You just made my day.” And then his hand cups the small of your back as the two of you step up to order. He does it so casually that you almost don’t notice, you’re not sure if you’re just susceptible to his moves, or if he’s practised them to perfection. Maybe you’re reading too much into it, maybe all pretty boy billionaires act like this, maybe it’s all strategy to keep his image clean, or maybe there’s something shady about Bruce Wayne and his weirdly hard, slick hands. Maybe he's hiding something, and whatever it is, you intend to figure it out.

If you should enjoy the view along the way, well, who could blame you?

[pollka1]

Once upon a dream

Summary — Everything's...okay?

Genre — Fluff, angst

Characters — Josh Washington, Sam Giddings, Matt Taylor, Emily Davis, Jess Riley, Mike Munroe, Chris Hartley, Ashley Brown, Hannah Washington, Beth Washington

Warnings — None

Character speech is NOT colour coded for this fic

The scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke clung to the air. Somewhere in the background, a record player crackled to life with an old song—something soft, jazzy, full of nostalgia. Josh sank deeper into the worn couch cushions, a half-finished cup of cocoa in his hands, steam curling up toward his face.

“Okay, okay, but hear me out,” Mike said from across the room, dramatically waving a spoon. “If the marshmallows don’t melt a little, it’s not real cocoa. It’s just chocolate soup.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Emily shot back, perched on the arm of the loveseat. “It’s literally better if they don’t melt. You get texture.”

“Texture?” Matt repeated with a laugh. “It’s a drink, Em. It’s not a five-course meal.”

Beth snorted from the floor, where she was braiding Hannah’s hair. “Maybe we should just get you a spoonful of sugar and call it a day.”

“I’d eat it,” Jess chimed in, unwrapping a candy cane and sticking it in her mouth sideways like a pirate. “Argh, cocoa’s for softies.”

“Yeah, okay, Cap’n Cavity,” Sam said, nudging her with her socked foot.

Josh watched them, smiling to himself. It was chaos—the best kind. Chris and Ashley were huddled at the game table, arguing over whether or not to use their last clue in Clue, of all games.

“You’re wrong!” Chris insisted, holding the card like a lawyer mid-trial. “Colonel Mustard has always been shady.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Chris, you’ve said every character is shady. That’s not strategy. That’s paranoia.”

“Thank you!” Mike called. “Finally, someone says it!”

“You guys are lucky I’m a pacifist,” Chris mumbled, pretending to be wounded.

Laughter filled the room like the crackling fire—it danced along the walls, climbed into the rafters, and made the space feel like home. Josh just soaked it in. Every voice, every tease, every exaggerated groan of board-game betrayal.

Hannah looked up at him from where she sat cross-legged on the floor.

“Hey,” she said, grinning. “You okay, big bro?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling back. “I’m just...happy.”

“Gross,” Beth teased.

He flipped a cushion at her and missed. She tossed it right back, smacking him in the face. Everyone erupted in laughter, and Josh leaned back into the couch, laughing until his ribs ached.

The record switched tracks.

Then—

He blinked.

There was something off about the corner of the room. A tall, metal floor lamp. Thin. Too modern. Too...humming. Like it didn’t belong.

He frowned, tilting his head. No one else seemed to notice.

Jess jumped up and spun around dramatically. “Alright, I say we play charades next. Girls versus boys.”

“I accept,” Sam said instantly, cracking her knuckles. “Prepare to lose.”

Chris looked horrified. “Charades? Again? Last time Emily accused me of gaslighting her because I pretended to be a dolphin.”

“Because you did the worst dolphin impression ever,” Emily snapped.

“I panicked!”

Josh was still staring at the lamp.

It buzzed. Not loud, just enough to start scratching under his skin.

No one else noticed.

He turned to Sam beside him. “Hey, do you see that?”

She looked at him and smiled like she always did—warm, steady, kind. “What, the lamp?”

Josh nodded slowly.

“Looks fine to me,” she said, and reached out to touch his arm. “You sure you’re not just a little cocoa drunk?”

He gave a weak laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

The buzzing got louder.

He looked down at the mug in his hands.

Now it was metal. Not ceramic. Cold. Sterile. Empty.

His heart jumped.

Beth and Hannah were gone.

No one was speaking anymore.

The fire died out in an instant, like someone had yanked the film reel from a projector.

The lamp—

BZZZZZT.

It shattered in a sharp flicker of sparks.

Josh sat up with a gasp.

His throat was dry. His hospital-issue sheets stuck to his back with sweat. The room was too white, too quiet. Just a flickering lamp buzzing in the corner. Not warm. Not gold.

His friends were gone.

The lodge was gone.

Beth and Hannah were gone.

He brought a shaking hand to his face, pressing his fingers to his eyes. There was still cocoa in his mouth. Or maybe it was just the taste of something sweet turning bitter.

He turned his head toward the lamp. The same one from his dream.

Still buzzing.

Josh let himself fall back into the mattress. Not quite crying. Not quite breathing easy, either.

Just...flickering.

[creepiecreator]

Near (Death Note) Headcanons

Here, have my Near headcanons from like. A long time ago, I’ll definitely have to update these and repost sometime!

This man is secretly a gremlin. He acts all robotic but he absolutely pulls pranks that no one can solve to fuck with people

-Since in the death note Change the WorLd television series Near is a child from a Taiwanese village that was completely wiped out from an illness, I like to say he has a horrible immune system since the original disease is still dormant in his body. 

-also during Change the WorLd Near recieved a pendant from the former-Wammy house child who saved him, F, before F had ended up dying. I like to think that he still keeps and wears it. (I know Change the WorLd isn't cannon, I just like it)

-Albino, and as such he barely ever goes outside without tons of sunscreen.

-Because of that he has horrible eyesight too.

-this man is autistic. No one can tell me otherwise. 

-Knows nothing about personal space. He hates being touched unless he initiates it though. 

-Probably hand makes some of his toys himself to make sure he has them look like his comrades. (Canon)

-He. Hates cake unless cooked in a very specific manner. 

-he does have a love of chocolate milk and ice creams though. 

-obviously very specific about textures

-he tends to mutter facts, equations and the like to calm down. 

-Near will go nonverbal at times

-for someone whose so passive aggressive he sure as hell can't fight. Seriously. He. Is very physically inept and has bad lungs. He will not do well. 

-His pajama pants have a pretty big pocket because he always has at least one toy on him to help him think while in public. 

-He absolutely gambles and takes bets on situations. Especially with Matt. He wins 90 percent of the time when its cards and counting, but loses quite a bit when it comes to straight up random chance games or things that just involve if someone will do something or not. 

[billionstarsandhereweare]

Composed | Chp. 2 - Pants and Pad Thai (prev. chapter)

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

summary: Insurance companies and dryers seem to be conspiring against you. Matt continues to be a gracious host.

word count: 3k

a/n: yay another chapter for you! also posted on AO3 :)

   You held your pose, smiling for the camera. Emerald green spread out before you, your pink and gold skirt a bright, cheery contrast to the lawn you sat on. You picked at the blades of grass absentmindedly as you waited for the man in front of you to finish fiddling with his lens cap. 

   “Alright sweets, all done. You ready to head inside?”

   You couldn’t remember how you got here. The man’s smile was warm and comforting though, so you ran to him, reaching your hands out as a joyful giggle escaped you. 

   “That’s my girl!”

   You squealed as the man lifted you from the ground, spinning you around him. After he gently set you down, he knelt down in front of you, his face obscured by some sort of strange fog. Blinking, you tried to focus, but the blurriness wouldn’t clear. 

   “Remember what I told you, sweets. Make sure you concentrate.”

   You reached your hand up to try and move his baseball cap, hoping it would clear the mist and reveal his features. As the tips of your fingers brushed the fabric of the rim, he turned to stone before crumbling into dust before you. 

   You awoke gasping, jolting upright. A dim, unfamiliar room spun around you, panic preventing you from catching your breath, acid in the back of your throat. You grasped the comforter below you, clenching and releasing to ground yourself in the feel of the fabric. Soft cotton. As you focused on the texture of the bedding, you managed to take in a breath through your nose, letting the scent of the room bring you further back into the present. Detergent, coffee, paper. Your eyes scanned the room to orient yourself with your surroundings. One metal dresser. One green backpack. Two maple bookshelves. Two black boots. Once your breathing had returned to some approximation of normal, you flopped back onto the mattress, hands rubbing your eyes. It had been a long time since one of your panic-dreams had made an appearance. Must have been the exhaustion , you thought, dragging yourself over to the edge of the bed to stand. As you stared at your feet, you pinched the bridge of your nose while you worked through your memories of the previous night. Right, I had a leak, there might be mold, I slept at Matt’s. You shuffled towards the door to the kitchen, light trickling in where it had been left ajar. 

   You weren’t sure of the time, but you thought it must have been at least mid-morning, given the angle of the sunbeams strewn across Matt’s living room. In the daylight, the space was light and airy, warm oak floorboards creaking under your feet as you made your way to the island. Scanning the room, you searched for a clock, but had no luck. Your phone was still on the counter where you left it, but when you tapped it, the screen was dark. Dead. Go figure. A small card resting next to it caught your attention. You picked it up, examining the thick cream cardstock before flipping it over to see a number messily scrawled on the back. Ah, business card for Matt’s firm. Probably his cell number. Should text him mine. That required a charged phone though, so it would have to wait. You ran your hands through your hair, frowning at the feeling of dried sweat and grease. Ugh. Shower first.

   After throwing the first of your laundry into the washing machine, you dragged your tired body into the shower. Under the hot rainfall of the shower head, your shoulders slowly started to relax, lowering from their previous place that was far too close to your ears. You took your time, lathering and scrubbing while the water helped ease some of the remaining tension from your body. Once finished, you pulled on a pair of boyshorts and a tank that were thankfully spared from the unwanted waterfall in your bathroom the night before. With your teeth brushed, hair combed, and laundry moved from the washer to the dryer, you headed back out to the living room, suddenly aware of rumbling in your stomach. Just as you convinced yourself Matt wouldn’t mind if you stole a piece of toast, you looked up from the bathroom doorway to see someone rustling around in the kitchen, making you jump. You let out a small yelp before you realized it was Matt. 

   “Way to scare a girl.”

   He raised a brow. “Last time I checked, my name was on the lease, so I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to come in.”

   You rolled your eyes in response, but before you could get a retort in, you noticed a mark above his right brow, blood slightly seeping out from a bandage trying to hold it closed. 

   “Good god, what happened?” you blurted out, quickly walking over to him to inspect. As you closed the distance between you, Matt shrugged his shoulders, seemingly unbothered. 

   “It’s nothing. Karen left a cabinet door open in the office, didn’t realize it until too late.”

   You reached up, fingers gently turning Matt’s chin to the side to get a better look at the cut. “What was the door made of, adamantium? This is a nasty cut.” He frowned, but continued to let you move his head to examine the damage. The butterfly bandage holding the torn skin together had started to come loose, the edges of the cut red and angry. Grimacing, you dropped your hand. “This needs cleaned, and that bandage is holding on for dear life. You have a first aid kit?”

   “I can take care of it.”

   “Not a chance,” you replied, moving around him to wash your hands. “Where’s it at?”

   “You’re not gonna let me win, are you?”

   “Nope.”

   “Top cabinet to the right of the fridge.”

   You fetched the kit, opening the worn metal box and taking stock of the supplies. A small hmph escaped you, pleasantly surprised at how well it was stocked. Matt removed his glasses and jacket as he sat down at the island, resigned but amused at your insistence as you settled into the stool in front of him, knees slotting on either side of one of his. Fussing with a pair of gloves, you took a moment to look at his face for the first time sans glasses. His unfocused gaze landed somewhere behind you, the amused smile on his face causing small crinkles to appear near his eyes. In the warm light of his apartment, they seemed to have a golden glow accenting a rich chestnut. You realized a moment later you were holding onto the breath you had inhaled.  

   Matt cleared his throat. “So not only are you a bartender and a musician, you’re a nurse too?”

   You let out a shaky exhale, bringing your mind back to the task at hand. “Nah, not me. My mom was though,” you said. “She taught me. Minor wound care, CPR, basic stuff.” You peeled the old bandage off, trying not to tug on the skin around the cut too much. “I can fix stuff like this. You come in with a stab wound though, and I might be out of my depth.”

   Matt chuckled. “Noted.”

   Gently patting away the dried blood with a warm cloth, you got the cut cleaned out. Matt sat as still as a statue while you worked, hands folded in his lap. Only a ghost of a wince crossed his face when you wiped the area down with an antiseptic wipe. As you applied the new bandage you asked, “What are you doing back so early anyway? Slow day at the office?”

   “I uh, hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d stop by over lunch to check in. Did you see the card I left?”

   “Uh- yeah, yeah I did. Phone was dead so I left it to charge. I didn’t realize it was already lunch.”

   Matt’s hands shifted below you. “Yeah, it’s already… 12:30.”

   “Damn, I didn’t realize I had slept in that late.”

   “You probably needed it then.”

   “I guess so,” you replied as you delicately swiped ointment around the now-bandaged cut. Once you were satisfied that the wound was closed and clean, you reached around him and closed the lid of the kit before announcing, “There. All done, with a bandage that’s actually secure.”

   Matt hummed out a thank you, reaching out to pat your leg, hand landing on your upper thigh. As his fingers landed on bare skin, you froze. Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks as you watched the realization hit him. He tilted his head, an amused grin spreading across his face. 

   “…are you not wearing pants?”

   “I plead the fifth.”

   He let out a huff of amusement, unbothered by the annoyed groan you gave him as he did. His hand remained on the side of your leg though, his thumb lightly brushing back and forth across your exposed skin. As you tried to ignore the way the warmth in your cheeks began to move to somewhere lower, his voice dropped just a little, replying, “I’m not sure pleading the fifth is very effective when the evidence is this plainly laid out.”

   “No badgering the witness,” you said as you slid off your seat to put away the first aid kit, embarrassment and maybe another kind of fire still running through you. “Or whatever it is you lawyers call it.”

   “Oh trust me, if I was badgering you, it would be much more intense than that.”

   “Pretty sure I’m the victim here anyway. Of dryers not working fast enough. Or something,” you muttered. Quickly changing the subject from your now obvious lack of pants, you asked, “You mind if I make some toast or something? I’m starving.”

   “Sure. Or there’s some leftover Thai in the fridge, if you want it.”

   A grumble came from your stomach and Matt raised a brow in your direction before you could protest. You grabbed the takeout container from its spot in the fridge, dumping it on a plate before putting it in the microwave. Matt continued to sit at the island, lazily twirling the arm of his glasses between his fingers.

   “So, what’s on your agenda today? Other than lounging around my apartment pants-less?”

   He wore a smug smirk, clearly pleased with his teasing. You shot him a glare, scrunching your face at him even though you knew he wouldn’t see it. “I need to call Josie and figure out who to call first about the leak. And figure out where the hell I’m gonna stay until things are put back together.”

   “I was serious when I said you can stay as long as you need to. I don’t mind.”

   “I realize the lack of pants fights against it, but I really am trying not to commandeer the space.”

   Matt chuckled. “See, here I thought I was just that good of a host, making you feel so comfortable this quickly.”

   You giggled, but it quickly faded into a frown. “Regardless of your hosting abilities, there’s some logistical reasons I need to get things fixed sooner than later. I usually host lessons at my apartment, and if I can’t stay there, I can’t have my kids come over either. Which means I’m out one income,” you said, realizing just how inconvenient things were about to become. “And the kids will be missing important lesson time.”

   “How many do you teach?” Matt asked, face softening a bit.

   “Ten. Most of them I just meet once a week, but I have a couple that come by twice a week.”

   Impressed, Matt raised both brows and replied, “Ten kids and you’re still at the bar five nights a week?” 

   “I like to stay busy, and the money’s nice. The lessons pay alright. At least the ones I charge.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “There’s a few of my kids who… well, they’re not as well off as some of the others. I offered to teach them for free, or whatever they could afford. Music shouldn’t be behind a paywall,” you frowned in reply. “And they’re good. Luis has a real shot at scholarship money if he keeps on going. Kid’s got more raw talent than his entire class put together.”

   “That’s good of you,” Matt replied with a thoughtful look. “Giving back and all.”

   You blushed a little, cheeks stained the faintest pink at his comment. “Just wanna help out you know?”

   “I get it.”

   The microwave beeped, so you grabbed the plate as you continued, more working through the situation aloud than anything. “I’ve got a keyboard I can haul to a rental for now, it’s not ideal, but it’ll have to make do. I really don’t want anybody missing lessons.” You blew on the pad Thai you pulled out before taking a big forkful. You must have been hungrier than you thought, because an involuntary moan left you as you swallowed the first bite. “Fuck this is good.”

   Matt stood as an unreadable expression crossed his face before he put his glasses and jacket back on. “All yours. I’ve gotta head back over to the office before Foggy sends someone after me.” He leaned over the island to give your arm a comforting rub. “Don’t stress too much, if I know Josie, she’ll have more than enough people to get things taken care of.” 

   “Yeah, I’m sure she’s got people who owe her. Just worried about the kiddos, mainly.”

   Matt gave you a soft smile. “Keep me updated on how things go, or if you need anything while you’re here.” Turning to leave, he paused for a moment, hesitating. “I don’t know if you’d be interested, but Foggy, Karen, and I are going to grab dinner after work. You’re welcome to join, if you want.” He let the question hang in the air as you paused between mouthfuls of noodles. “If you’re not busy, or too worn out.”

   “Yeah, that would be nice actually. Give my brain a break from everything.”

   “Great. I’ll call once we’re done? Just send me a text with your number.”

   “Sounds like a plan.”

   The next several hours were a whirlwind of phone calls and emails. After some convincing, Josie decided to stay out in Michigan for the rest of her vacation. At least you’ve got a comfy bed for now, Jo. Better than what you’d have here. Once you explained that you were ‘staying with a friend’ and not out of a place to sleep, she finally relented. And Matt was right, she knew several guys that were in her debt and able to take a look at things by Friday. You had even lucked out getting a temporary practice space set up at the elementary school near your apartment thanks to the mom of one of your students, so lessons would only be on pause for the rest of the week. The phone call with your insurance company though? That wasn’t nearly as successful.

   “Son of a bitch!” you complained to Matt’s empty apartment, angrily tossing your phone onto the couch. Ninety minutes, most of which was spent on hold being bounced around from one agent to another, had yielded nothing but some insincere apologies and instructions to call back in 24 hours to check the claim. Nervous energy started to rumble through your limbs, so you rose from your spot on the couch to find something, anything to keep your hands busy and brain occupied. You settled on folding laundry and tidying up the room you stayed in. As you were working packing up your laundry bag, you heard the tinkling ringtone of your phone in the other room. Abandoning the shirt in your hands, you darted out to the couch to retrieve your cell. A woman’s photo was displayed on the screen, a halo of brown and black ringlets framing her face, olive skin glowing as she winked at the camera. You smiled at the picture of your best friend as you answered the call. 

   “Hey, Laur.”

   “Hey yourself! Haven’t heard from you in like a week, how’s it going?”

   “Do you want the short answer or the long one?”

   “That bad huh?”

   You scoffed, then replied, “To give you a preview, I just spent an hour and a half basically on hold with my rental insurance.”

   “Yikes. Well, I’m just on the train home from work, so I’ve got a free hour or so. Gimme the long version.”

   You launched into the saga of your week so far, from the mess of last week’s auditions to Tuesday’s unfortunate leak in your apartment, but her commiserating groans turned to giggles once you were explained where you spent last night. 

   “So, let me get this straight. You managed to con the hot, blind, lawyer regular into cleaning your bathroom, and he let you stay with him?”

   “I didn’t con him, he offered! And how do you know what he looks like?”

   “Google, duh.”

   You shook your head and tried not to laugh. Of course Laurie immediately started doing research once you mentioned a guy.

   “I was just happy to have an extra set of hands! If Josie hadn’t known him I would’ve said no!”

   “Riiight. And him being a tall drink of water had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

   “Oh come on . It’s not like he asked me out or something. He was just being helpful.”

   “Still not hearing you deny that he’s hot.”

   You could practically see Laurie’s teasing grin through the phone line as you tried to come up with a response. She continued before you could, though. “I mean, the leak thing sucks. Like really sucks. But you’re telling me there’s no silver lining here? You hardly ever get out and meet new people, maybe the universe is forcing your hand.”

   “Coulda done that without ruining my bathroom.”

   “Eh, she works in mysterious ways. You gonna keep shacking up with Mr. Hot Lawyer?”

   “Oh my god Laur, give it a rest.”

   Laurie’s boisterous laugh rang out on the other end of the line. You picked at a stray thread of your sweatpants, mind beginning to whirl. The insurance company hadn’t been helpful in securing a rental or hotel, and Laurie’s place was over in Brooklyn, over an hour and a half away on a good day. Necessity required you to stay in Hell’s Kitchen between lessons, auditions, and Josie’s, so you somewhat reluctantly came to the conclusion that you were probably going to be at Matt’s for at least another night. 

   “Okay, maybe you’re not entirely wrong,” you cut in as Laurie’s laughter calmed into little giggles, “as much as that pains me to admit.” 

   “Yessssss, listen to the universssssse!” she replied. You wouldn’t have been surprised if she was pumping her fist in victory. “Get you some!”

   “You’re unbelievable. I haven’t even asked if I can stay another night yet.”

   “Something tells me he’s not gonna have a problem with it.”

   Your phone started to buzz against your ear. Incoming Call: Matt Murdock.

   “Speak of the devil. Gotta take this. I’ll keep you updated okay?”

   “You better! Love you!”

   “Love you too,” you sighed before picking up Matt’s call. 

   “Hey, Matt.”

   “How’d your afternoon of calls go? Any success?”

   “Some. Got a couple of guys coming out on Friday to look at the damage, and my lessons are rescheduled for next week.”

   “How’d the insurance call go?”

   You let out a groan. “Yeah, about that… you mind if I stay another night? Maybe two? I don’t mean to intrude, but they were… less than helpful.”

   “I don’t mind at all.”

   Exhaling a sigh of relief, you replied, “I seriously appreciate it. I promise I’ll cut you a check or something for the trouble.”

   “Don’t worry about it. Just glad you have somewhere safe to stay for now,” Matt replied, softness laced through his voice. “So, Fog and I are just wrapping up here, if you were still interested in meeting us for dinner? Karen’s already on her way.”

   “Love to. Where should I meet you?”

   Matt rattled off a name and address, a little bistro you weren’t familiar with. The maps app on your phone showed it was nearby, and between Matt’s apartment and their shared office. “Cool, it seems pretty close to here. Should be there in 20,” you confirmed, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you tugged on a pair of jeans. 

   You said your goodbyes before tugging on your coat and heading for the door. After one last check of your reflection in your phone, you exited the apartment and prepared yourself for a brisk walk through New York’s chilly streets. 

[kcamberart]

How do you get your backgrounds to look so matte/flat in your pokemon renders? The minor one particularly looks like a post card, and I assumed it was grease pencil before I saw the freestyle render below it

Amazing work as always! <3

Thank you! For something like this:

Everything in the background and foreground like the mountains and trees (and even the clouds) are 3D objects with a slightly modified emission shader applied so they won't cast or receive any shadows.

The magic texture gives it very slight holofoil look as well, which is what I also used to make the sky change colors in the back.

[akshayaquapri]

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[ultramarine-spirit]

WMMAP Novel Vol. 3 (Traditional Chinese)

Interstellar Publishing has announced their translation of WMMAP's novel (Vol. 3)!

✦ Price: NT$ 950

✦ Available first at 2024漫畫博覽會展場首賣 (Kadokawa Taiwan's 2024 Comic Expo)

✦ Purchase it online: Books / Eslite Bookstore / TCSB / Kingstone

✦ Merch description:

❶ 【Novel】 “Who Made Me A Princess?” Volume 3

❷ Double-sided acrylic stand｜"Portrait of the Magician" Acrylic Standee

◆ Specifications: 14.5 × 20.5cm (whole board)/3mm acrylic/double-sided full color + partial white ink

◆ Drawn by famous Korean artist sonnet

❸ Double-sided acrylic charm｜"Fox and Wolf" Acrylic Charm

◆ Specifications: 6 × 6cm/3mm acrylic/double-sided full color + partial white ink

◆ Drawn by popular Taiwanese artist pH Blue

❹ Matte texture zipper bag｜"Princess's Date" PVC Zipper Bag

◆ Specifications: 21 × 14.8cm/Mist-through PVC + white ink

◆ Drawn by the famous Korean painter sonnet

❺ Plush Badge｜"The Secret Time of Mythical Beasts and Princesses" Plush Badge Set

◆ Specifications: 5.8cm/Tinplate + Crystal Velvet & Sponge

◆ Drawn by famous Tawanese artist pH Blue

❻ High Quality Matte Book Box

◆Specifications: 16.5 × 22.5 × 4.5cm/Full-page hot stamping/300P white copper + matte P

◆Drawn by famous Korean painter sonnet

✦． 【Exhibition gifts】 ✦. ✦． ✦

◆ Drawn by famous Korean illustrator welkin

❶ Bonus Illustration

◆ Specifications: 21 × 14.8cm

❷ Bonus Acrylic Star

◆ Specifications: 5.3 x 5.5cm/10mm acrylic + partial white ink

◆ Drawn by famous Taiwanese artist pH Blue

✦． 【Co-purchase gifts】 ✦. ✦． ✦

❶ Exquisitely designed transparent card

1 Transparent Card

◆ Specifications: 10.5 × 14.5cm

◆ Illustrated by Spoon

◆ Illustrated by sonnet

[quapriprinting]

Textured Business Cards

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Your business card is the first impression of your brand—make it count with Quapri Textured Business Cards. Designed for professionals who value quality, our cards offer unique textures, high durability, and a premium feel. Whether you prefer a classic or bold texture, our carefully crafted options help you stand out.

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[slithergaunt]

Here's the first (of probably several) Saproling token designs. I wanted to emulate the classic squirmy toothy worm Saproling but with some extra plant/fungal textures. Since Saprolings can look like pretty much anything, I've got others I'm toying with, but these toothy little guys will be the first batch.

If you want any of these tokens for your Magic: the Gathering deck, shoot me a message and I'll reserve a cluster for you. Matte, Round-Edge, Business-card size to take up less table space. 10 for 15$ by Paypal with free shipping.

For those of you with Zombie-affiliated decks, I've still got 1/1 Zombie tokens in stock as well!

[smiggles]

hey smi!!!! im dying for all this merch you're making. it's so my kind of stuff (slams card repeatedly on table)

ANYWAY as a fellow creator i was wondering if you could share where you get your stuff printed at?

Im always happy to share my resources!!

read more under the cut

For a lot of my stuff lately Ive been using alibaba to find manus to work with that are willing to do things a bit out of the mold Which is great if you know how to look for a reputable manufacturer (If they do refunds, if they allow samples, if they will send you photos/videos of their products, et cetera) For my charms, lanyards and dakis I use vograce Their charms are some of the best Ive ever gotten produced. Vibrant, last forever, great quality and lots of options. Shipping is pricey and takes a long time due to it being from China. But the customer service is fast, reliable and they do a lot of deals (Im subbed to their membership and get discounts) For my stickers I use stickerapp. Very affordable and their glossy stickers are incredibly weather resistant (but not weather proof) The matte stickers have a great texture however these scratch and wear easily.

My prints are done locally (as well as my business cards). I recommend looking locally ANY TIME YOU CAN I get my patches from this manu. They lack communication on some aspects but will send you a photo of your product before its mass produced and the detail they get on their patches is amazing. Wonderful.

My enamel pins are from this manu. They have been able to do minute details without screen printing (so far) on the designs Ive made and the quality has been perfect. I havent used this manu THAT much so I dont know for a fact how well their range is. However their customer service is great. They are quick and willing to communicate This manu is the one that Ive used to make plushies. I have only made one with them so I cant give a good review on them. Stickermule I use ONLY when they have crazy deals (1 dollar for 50 stickers) Their quality of stickers is amazing but pricey as WELL as there is some controversy surrounding them due to financially supporting Trump's campaign in the past. Their charms and pins are VERY BAD quality. I do NOT recommend. They do not put protective sealant on them and they are easily scratched. Additionally they use a poor method for attaching the ring/clip on the charms and they break

[nopanamaman]

Do you recommend a certain type of print from your print shop? (e.g. Metal print, Acrylic print, fine art print)

I can't really give a universal recommendation, since it all comes down to what type of texture you prefer!

I personally like glossier prints, so if you want something like that, go for acrylic or metal (though note that acrylic will be heavier). You can also get a glossy poster on there if the metal and acrylic options are too pricy!

And if you prefer a matte texture, canvas, fine art and cards will do the job. All of these will also be more lightweight, naturally (I thiiiink canvas is heavier than metal, but I'm not sure).

That said,

Inprnt has been VERY unreliable with payments to artists in recent months. I and a bunch of other artists I know had to actively pester the company to transfer money to them, and they still haven't given a clear reason as to why they have been withholding our funds. It's really unprofessional.

So at this point I'm not sure if I should recommend you to purchase stuff from there at all - on one hand, I'll get my share from it EVENTUALLY (if I pester them enough like I did last time lol), but on the other hand, I don't know if it's smart to support their business right now. Like I'm genuinely not sure.

I'd say get the prints if you want to, just be aware of the situation.

[itwashotwestayedinthewater]

One Man Went To Rock by Denny Boyce and His Orchestra (1957~, Big Band Jazz/Swing)

went to one of my regular 2nd hand shops today and there happened to be a whole BOX full of 78rpm records, which is already a score for me; but these ones happened to be somehow in like-new condition? these are by far the best preserved 78rpms ive seen in my life. for context, any shellac record produced between 1910-1959 is 95% of the time now a matte texture, completely embedded with decades of dust and mould, the crackles of it often louder than the music thats on the record. These ones were SHINY? their paper card sleeves were pristine and looked new where they're usually ripped and fucked to pieces. This is one of 8 that i bought, and is by far the best sounding pre-60s record i have. wtf. have a listen for yourself, its some funny big band song with a call/response/solo section type deal