#and use a pen because it's permanent and makes me think less

[spectralaethersystem]

how do i get better at drawing transformers, specifically starscream?

except from looking at refs and practicing, of course

Hey!

A fellow admirer of good 'ol Screamer! <3

I'll be honest when I say that I have NO clue what I'm doing other than the fundamentals: basic shapes! Boring, I know... Most of the Cybertronians are box-y, save for the likes of Beast Wars. I'm going to try to draw some bots every day to help me better understand their designs and anatomy in comparison to humans. All bipedal beings' (the walking on two legs kind) structures can all be learned through practicing figure drawing! Bots have arms, hands, legs, feet, and a head, just like we do! You just gotta compensate for their bulkiness after starting with a "human" skeleton template. You really know how to draw flow-y, gestural pieces by studying figure drawing. line-of-action is a free website to practice that.

Like with anything art-wise, you always want to break it down to those basic cubes, cylinders, etc. The bots have a very complex design, especially as you go into the computer-animated shows/movies, and by starting off with basic shapes, you can start to fill in the details gradually. If you focus too hard on the details, you'll spend an eternity trying to make everything perfect.

Start simple. You can always build off of simple!

I used my phone and sketched on top of Cybertron/Galaxy Force Starscream to show a bit of my beginning sketching process:

White highlighter shows the basic shapes to start. Green pen shows adding that first touch of detail.

I'm not home at the moment, but when I post my sketch of the day, I can share the steps of my process if you'd like!

Long-winded response aside, unfortunately there is no easy approach to drawing bots. You just have to be consistent and practice drawing them. That's what I'm doing!

^^ - Cliff

[eternalguk]

Pink Hearts & Black Clouds || jjk. — 01

Love me at my lowest, I’ll love you when you’re barely holding on

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of a brooding grunge. Moody, distant, and always a little too sarcastic. A grumpy, tattooed college student who barely tolerates anyone… except you. Somehow, the girl who’s a whirlwind of pink hearts and strawberry lipgloss is the one who keeps dear Jungkook on his toes.

But you must admit… behind that gruff exterior, there’s a side of him only you get to see—gentle, caring, and ready to spoil you in his own way. Everyone else may see him as the tough guy with a permanent scowl, but you know better. Jungkook’s heart? It’s all yours.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, college au, grunge!bf x bimbo!gf, angst, fluff & smut

↠ Word count : 3.8K

↠ Warnings : swearing, making out, teasing, exhibitionism (sex in a lecture theatre), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, slight dumbification, dirty talk, begging, oral sex (m. receiving), ass smacking, scratching, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, use of pet names, sex on a desk (he hits it from the back at one point), a very moody but flirtatious Jungkook paired with bimbo!oc deserves its own warning :) - I think that’s about it?

↠ A/n : Hi there ; here it is! Chapter 01 of my first series, ‘pink hearts and black clouds’ which I am so excited to share. This story means a lot to me as it explores two completely different personalities finding their way together. With bimbo, sunshine!reader and grunge, grumpy!jk, I hope you enjoy exploring this world as much as I loved creating it. It’s messy, it’s fun, it’s emotional, it’s steamy (at times 👀) and it’s absolutely everything I could ask for! I’d love to hear what you think - your reactions, favourite part, or even anything you’d like to see from them in the future! Feedback / comments are always appreciated. Thank you for giving my story a chance & happy reading 🦢.

↠ Song : ‘Closer’ by Jungkook / ‘Good for you’ by Selena G

❧ Chapter 01 : Lipgloss & Leather

prev. || next  || series masterlist || masterlist

A stream of light filters through the wooden, venetian blinds of the lecture theatre windows, slicing through the warm, cinnamon-scented air.

God bless Ms. Choi for her diffusers.

The ambience of the empty theatre is a sharp contrast to the wintry chill that is dancing around outside. The time of season where it bites at your cheeks and refuses to let go. Inside though, the warmth feels like a holiday cocoon, the kind that makes you shed layers and forget the frost clinging to the world beyond your surrounding.

Unfortunately, despite the serene atmosphere, you don’t feel any less distracted.

You are perched in a chair at the back of the theatre, mindlessly playing with your pink glitter gel pen while Jungkook sits on the desk in front of you, legs spread arrogantly, one boot perched on the seat beside yours. The light catches on the silver chain hanging from his neck, a stark contrast to his black t-shirt and ripped dry-denim jeans.

You should be focusing on taking notes for the upcoming midterm, like he told you to do, but instead, your eyes keep wandering back to the powerful man in front of you.

Powerful because he consumes your entire being.

You pout as you swirl a strand of your hair around your finger, oblivious to the smirk curling on Jungkook’s lips as he catches onto your little daydream.

“Not taking notes, princess?” he asks, tone dripping with mockery.

“Erm…” you blink at him, momentarily caught off guard. “I was… thinking?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Thinking. Right. About the syllabus or about how good I look right now?”

Your cheeks flame as he leans forward, chin propped lazily on his tattooed hand. His dark hair falls messily over his face, making him look even more impossibly cocky.

“Both?” you meekly offer, putting down the glitter pen and propping your chin onto your soft hands.

His grin stretches wider. “You’re cute when you lie.”

You smile at the compliment as Jungkook reaches out and grabs the gel pen from the desk, inspecting it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. The sight of his tattooed fingers gripping the sparkly pink plastic makes your heart race.

“Why do you even need this?” he teases, holding the pen just out of reach when you try to grab it back. “It’s ugly, you definitely don’t use it to write anything down and it’s pink.”

Jungkook grimaces, observing the pen as though it’s a foreign object.

You huff and pout harder, crossing your arms. “You said you’d help me study, but all you’re doing is being mean!”

“Mean?” Jungkook cackles, the sound low and gravelly. “Doll, I’m just keeping it real. Someone has to be with you.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst!” you whine, trying again to snatch the pen, but Jungkook is faster. He swiftly moves it behind his back, staring you down with his usual, conceited smirk.

“And yet, here you are. With me.”

“Because you don’t let me leave,” you shoot back, a small huff escaping as you try your best to appear annoyed.

But you aren’t. Not even a little bit.

Especially when Jungkook leans in even closer, his dark eyes scanning your face like he is trying to memorise every detail.

“C’mere,” he says softly, contrasting his suddenly serious expression.

You blink up at him, your heart fluttering. “Why?”

“Just come here, doll. Trust me.”

You hesitate for half a second before leaning forward, and that is all the invitation Jungkook needs to grab your chair and yank you forward, placing you between his legs. Your breath hitches as he cups your face in his hands, the rough pads of his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“You’re too fucking pretty, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice so low and intimate that it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Jungkook…” You trail off, feeling utterly flustered and ridiculously warm under his intense gaze.

“What?” he questions, cocking his head playfully. “You don’t like compliments? Want me to call you dumb instead? You like that, huh?”

“N-no!” you stutter, and the way he leans in closer makes your head spin.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a smirk, brushing his nose against yours. “My good girl likes being told she’s pretty.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as his lips find yours, the kiss starting soft but quickly turning hungrier. Jungkook kicks your chair back before tugging you impossibly closer, his hands sliding down to your waist.

“Fuck, you taste sweet,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Strawberry lip gloss,” you utter, still fairly dazed.

He hums appreciatively, a smile now evident on his face. “My favourite.”

Jungkook’s hands slides lower, squeezing your hips as he deepens the kiss. You moan softly when he nips at your bottom lip, his pierced tongue sweeping over it a second later.

The sound of the theatre door creaking open in the distance makes you freeze.

The wind.

“Jungkook!” you hiss, pulling back slightly. “What if someone comes in?”

Jungkook grins, completely unbothered. “Free show?”

“You’re impossible!”

“You love it,” he teases, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. His hands tug at the hem of your short pink skirt, hiking it up higher as his fingers toy with the edge of your lace underwear.

“Ahh, is this the pair I got you the other day?”

“Jungkook…” you mewl, voice barely above a whisper. You manage a quick nod, before falling to rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“My doll is always so needy,” he grumbles, his dark eyes locking with yours. “But I don’t mind.”

Jungkook continues to fiddle with your underwear, his hand slipping inside to cup your now soaked sex in his rough hands. “Nice and wet.”

You squirm in his grasp, your cheeks burning as he presses another kiss to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin until you gasp.

“Relax, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

And with that, you give in - like you always do with your lover boy.

“Get on the desk.”

Your heart races as you turn toward the heavy, wooden desk behind you. It feels cold beneath your palms as you hoist yourself up, the sound of your skirt rustling loud in the quiet space. Jungkook watches you intently, his eyes darkening as you settle onto the surface, your legs dangling over the edge.

He steps closer, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your skirt higher.

“Look at you,” Jungkook whispers, his voice dripping with approval. “So pretty. So perfect for me.”

You shiver, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as his fingers trace patterns on your skin. Jungkook’s touch feels electric, sending sparks shooting through your veins.

“J-Jungkook—” you stutter, your voice shaky.

“Shh,” he interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Your boyfriend's words send a wave of warmth washing over you, and you let your body sink into the desk as he leans in, his breath hot against your neck. You feel the stubble on his jaw brushing against your skin, the faint scent of his woody cologne filling your senses.

“The way you give in,” he begins, his lips grazing your ear, “is fucking beautiful.”

A soft whimper escapes your glossy lips as his hands move higher, pushing your skirt up to your waist. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and you gasp as he tugs them down, leaving you exposed.

Jungkook is quick to toss them onto his discarded leather jacket draped over the chair beside him. The delicate blush of your pink panties against the rugged, worn leather is a stark contrast that sends your mind spiraling.

“Stunning,” he utters to himself, eyes roaming over your body with a hunger that quickens your pulse.

Why the fuck is this man so hot?

You squirm, cheeks burning with embarrassment, but Jungkook doesn’t give you time to think. Not that there was much going on up there anyway.

His hands grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. He wraps your delicate legs around him, engulfing you in his embrace.

“As beautiful as you look like this,” Jungkook mutters, caressing your cheek, “I need you on your knees.”

You’re quick to comply, gently shoving Jungkook away. He cackles at your eagerness, but deep inside his brooding heart, he feels at awe.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, quick to change personas, voice rough with desire.

Again, you obey without hesitation, your lips parting as he unzips his jeans. His cock springs free, already hard and straining, and your eyes widen as he steps closer, the tip brushing against your lips.

“Suck,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitate for only a second before leaning forward, taking him into your mouth. His taste is salty and masculine, making you moan softly as you begin to move your tongue, your lips wrapping tightly around his girthy member.

Jungkook groans, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides your head up and down. “That’s it, doll,” he encourages, his voice thick with pleasure. “Take all of me.”

You sink deeper, gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t stop, determined to please him.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook effortlessly praises, his grip tightening in your hair. “You were fucking made for this.”

The words send a jolt of heat straight to your core, and you moan around him, the vibrations making him shudder.

“Fuck,” he curses, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “I’ll be painting your face with cum if you keep that up.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Isn’t that what you like?”

Jungkook chuckles darkly, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Not yet, baby. I have other plans for you first.”

Before you can even think of a response, Jungkook pulls you off the floor, spinning you around so your back is pressed against his chest. His hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts through your satin blouse as he nips at your earlobe.

“You’re turn, princess,” he whispers, voice sending shivers down your spine for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

You gasp as his cold fingers find their way between your legs, exploring your already soaked folds. He teases you mercilessly, touch light yet maddening enough that it has you writhing in his bulky arms.

“Please,” you beg, voice trembling with need.

You try to grind against him, but Jungkook’s firm grip stops you from doing so.

“Please what?” he taunts, feigning confusion, breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, the words spilling out effortlessly.

Jungkook grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “What my pretty doll wants, my pretty doll gets.”

In one swift motion, he lifts you onto the desk, positioning himself between your legs. Jungkook’s cock presses against your entrance, and you yelp as he thrusts into you in one smooth, powerful movement.

”God, why are you so tight?” Jungkook groans, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to move. “I fucked you this morning.”

The sensation, along with the reminder of your earlier shenanigans, is overwhelming and both the stretch and burn send waves of pleasure through you.

You wrap your legs around Jungkook’s slim waist, urging him deeper as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“Harder,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “More.”

Jungkook obliges, slamming into you with a force that has the desk rocking against the floor. The sound echoes through the lecture theatre, mingling with your desperate moans and his guttural grunts.

“Could fuck this cunt all day,” Jungkook growls, his pace increasing as he mercilessly hammers his thick cock into you.

You cling to him, body trembling on the edge of release. But just as you’re about to let go, Jungkook pulls out, leaving you gasping and empty.

“No!” you cry, your eyes snapping open to meet his smug grin.

“Not yet,” he warns, voice firm. “You’re not cumming until I say so.”

You whimper, your body aching with need, but Jungkook isn’t done. He flips you over onto your stomach, hoisting your hips up so your ass is in the air.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice muffled by the desk.

“Giving you what you wanted,” he replies casually, his hands spreading your cheeks apart.

And then Jungkook is inside you again, filling you completely as he drives into you with a ferocity that leaves you utterly breathless.

Your sopping pussy lewdly squelches around Jungkook, completely soaking him. The sound turns the pair of you on further.

“Right there!” You mewl, pushing yourself back onto Jungkook, the pressure making you moan uncontrollably.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Tell me who fucks you this good.”

“Y-you,” you stutter, your voice breaking as he hits your g-spot deep inside you. “This drenched pussy is yours.”

“And who do you belong to?” Your boyfriend growls, his hand coming down on your plump ass with a sharp smack.

“I’m yours!” you cry, the pain mixing with pleasure in the most delicious way. “Love the way you fuck me.”

Jungkook smirks, his pace slowing as he leans over you, lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl. Now come for me.”

As soon as the words leave his filthy mouth, your body convulses, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you come undone. Jungkook isn’t far behind, his own release hitting him with a force that leaves him trembling.

The feeling of his cum oozing into you has you wanting to turn around and ride the fuck out of your lover boy.

Jungkook collapses on top of you, his breath hot against your skin as you both struggle to catch your breath.

“You okay, doll?” he asks, his voice softening as he turns you around and carefully seats you on the desk.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. I’m- wow.”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing.”

“And you, Bakugo,” you reply, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Your lover boy grins, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “Round two after lunch?”

The cafeteria hums with energy, alive with the noise of lively chatter and the sporadic clatter of trays hitting tables.

You’re perched on the bench beside Jungkook, a tray of half-eaten chips and an unopened can of Samjin Mango Soda sitting in front of you.

Across the table, Taehyung and Jimin are engaged in a heated debate about Haikyu, their hands waving dramatically as they try to outtalk each other about the anime the two of them are currently rewatching.

Well, truthfully speaking, all of you have been rewatching, but only the two of them are so deeply interested. Maybe Jungkook, but he’d never admit it.

Speaking of Jungkook, he is slouched against the table, one elbow propped up as his thumb scrolls lazily through your phone, staring at pictures you had taken of yourself today.

And he says he isn’t obsessed.

As usual, he hasn’t said much, just the occasional grunt when someone asks him a question. He looks effortlessly intimidating, his black hoodie (that you finally returned) pulled low over his forehead, his iconic silver chain around his neck catching the light and his usual scowl that is always imprinted on his beautiful face.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more of a contrast. You’re in your own world, a makeshift beauty station spread out in front of you, next to yours and Jungkook’s shared meal. Your compact mirror is propped against the soda can, brushes and glosses neatly scattered around it.

A soft pout forms on your lips as you reapply a coat of your signature lip gloss, the sticky sheen glistening in the light. You’re blissfully focused, tilting your head to inspect your work like an artist perfecting their masterpiece.

“You’re so wrong,” Jimin says, leaning forward with a look of betrayal. “There’s no way Seijoh vs. Karasuno is better than Shiratorizawa vs. Karasuno.”

“It’s about the emotional stakes, Jimin,” Taehyung replies, sipping his iced tea as though he is a certified anime critic. “Oikawa’s genius mind versus Kageyama’s raw talent? That’s art.”

“Art?” Jimin scoffs. “Bro, real art is Ushijima annihilating them with a spike.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Oikawa’s smugness had more impact than any spike ever could.”

“Who’s Kageyama again?” you pipe up, tilting your head.

Jungkook’s phone, well your phone, lowers an inch as he glances at you, his expression blank. “You can’t be serious. We literally watched an episode yesterday.”

You shrug, completely unbothered by the disbelief in his tone. “I don’t remember the boring ones.”

Jimin nearly chokes on his drink, eyes wide in horror. “Boring?! He’s literally the King of the Court!”

“Don’t,” Jungkook says flatly, cutting off Jimin’s impending rant. “She’ll just start listing the hot ones.”

You grin, batting your lashes at him. “Is that a problem, Koo?”

Taehyung leans back in his seat, smirking. “You’ve got your hands full, don’t you, Koo?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Jungkook mutters, though his ears tinge pink. “And don’t fucking call me that.”

Taehyung catches it immediately, raising his brows. “Is that a blush I see, Jungkook? The same guy who nearly broke someone’s nose in basketball last week?”

“Fuck off,” Jungkook grumbles, sliding your phone over to you.

“Bro, you’re whipped,” Jimin adds, his laugh practically echoing across the room.

“No I’m not-”

“You are,” Taehyung interrupts, pointing a chip at him. “It’s so obvious. You’ve got that whole, ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ thing going on, but this one over here bats her fake lashes and you’re folding fast.”

“Hey! They’re real,” you protest, leaning forward and resting your chin in your palms.

You study Jungkook with a teasing smile. “Is that true? Am I your kryptonite?”

His eyes flick to yours, dark and unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something - amusement, maybe, or fond exasperation. Jungkook simply doesn’t answer, just grabbing a chip from the tray and popping it into his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say, your smile widening.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. He leans back in his seat, stretching his long legs out under the table, and you notice the way his fingers tap rhythmically against his knee. He looks relaxed, but you know him well enough to recognise the effort it takes to hold back a snarky comment.

“He doesn’t even deny it,” Jimin continues, grinning like he’s won something. “You know what? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you’re good for him.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees, though his tone is far more mischievous. “You’re like the sunshine to his thundercloud.”

“Lipgloss to his cigarette,” Jimin chimes in.

“Or the idiot to his genius,” Jungkook finishes off, his voice dry as ever.

You gasp, smacking his muscular arm lightly. “I’ll have you know I’m very smart!”

“Name the capital of the United States,” he challenges, barely hiding the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Easy,” you say confidently, shrugging your shoulders. “Hollywood.”

Taehyung and Jimin dissolve into laughter, and even Jungkook can’t hold back the small shake of his shoulders.

“Christ,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

You pout, confused why the boys are laughing. But, the sight of Jungkook joining in with them has you leaning into his side, grinning up at him. “You still like me, right?”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, but his hand moves to casually rest against the small of your back, his fingers caressing the exposed skin.

And that?

That’s the only answer you need.

You busy yourself with dabbing some extra Dior blush onto your cheeks, the sunlight streaming through the window catching the shimmer within it. Jimin plays with your Ilia mascara, shaking his head as he takes in the rest of your makeup that is scattered around.

Taehyung sees that you’re occupied and smirks, leaning closer to Jungkook. “You defo love it, you’re just too much of a moody shit to admit it.”

“Love what?” Jungkook asks, deadpan, though the tightening of his jaw gives him away.

“Having someone fuss over you,” his best friend teases, motioning his thumb towards you with a grin. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, looking down at the now empty takeaway container in front of him like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. “You have nothing better to talk about?”

Your eyes dart to him, catching the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck.

Smiling to yourself, you lean your chin on your palm. “It’s okay, Jungkookie,” you coo softly. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

He glares at you, but there’s no real bite to it. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” you ask, pouting in innocence. “You love it when I call you that.”

Taehyung and Jimin burst into laughter once again at your audacity.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at them before turning to you. For a split second, his fingers twitch on the table, like he’s about to pull you closer. His gaze softens as it lingers on you - like he’s on autopilot, already halfway to pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

But then he stops.

Clearing his throat, he leans back in his chair instead, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head like armour. “You’re insufferable and annoying.”

You blink, caught between surprise and amusement. “You almost- you almost did it!”

“What?” he grunts, refusing to look at you.

“You were going to kiss my head.” Your voice is laced with a playful lilt, but there’s a flicker of something tender beneath it. “Don’t worry, Kookie. Next time, you’ll follow through.”

His tongue pokes against his cheek, a telltale sign of his rising frustration - or embarrassment, you can’t quite tell. “Shut up and eat,” he mutters, tugging his hood lower before he shoves a packet of crisps your way.

Jimin and Taehyung howl in laughter, and you can’t help but join them, even as Jungkook mumbles curses under his breath.

Somewhere beneath the gruffness, there’s the faintest quirk of his lips - a fleeting smile that only you seem to notice.

And in small moments like this you conclude that while Jungkook doesn’t give you flowers or grace you with love letters, he gives you something that is endless - pieces of himself: his time, his trust, his unwavering presence, and a love so consuming it feels like forever.

And there we have it! Please do let me know your thoughts ; the support I receive means the world to me 🫶🏻

↠ Taglist : @bangchanwantsmesobad @rklvez @doulcha @starlight-1010 @mimi1097 @khadeeeeej @jkslvsnella @royalguk @gaebestie @iamstilljk @myjungkookthighs @jungshaking @kookiesgiggles @minimoninini @lovejkmilitarywife @pplongoing @pokolunolino @dontcallmeelle @taeisbae13 @ronyiboniyy @nerdycheol @onlyforyoukook @ukandtwme @morosisxx @smwhrinthehaze @thebluegoddess @ramyun-h @remgeolli @minniejim @cherricherryy @avawants2havefun @fr0ggieth1nk @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeeykey @ficluvr613 @deeznutkooks @kookienooki (names in italics could not be tagged).

[00127am]

signed with love and forever yours, chenle

postage. zhong chenle & gn! reader, cursing, mentions of kissing, very brief mention of sex (only in name, no details) cost to ship. 625 words

i can't seem to get you out of my mind.

you stick to my skin like glue that i just cannot seem to wash off. it's annoying, really. having to exist in each and every moment with the preconceived fantasy of you playing in my head with every word and every breath and every movement (all dedicated to one more second spent with the vision of you in my head). i hate how much i think of you, nearly as much as i hate being away from you (though the latter proves to be much worse).

i haven't been able to stop thinking about you since before any kisses of ours. and before the first time we fucked (does the use of the word fucking ruin the letter for you? i can practically hear you nagging me to change it to "making love," or something equally as stupid). you've haunted my mind since i before felt your touch on my skin and before you flashed that strikingly pretty smile in my direction. i can't tell you when it began. when you made your permanent home in the forefront of my every waking moment. but i wouldn't be surprised if you were always there, from the moment we first met.

i know i say that i don't remember it. and i don't, not your version of our initial meeting. and maybe i avoid the topic to hold myself from the embarrassment of admitting that i've been aware of you for much longer than you've been aware of me. or perhaps because if we did talk about it, and you pried (like you always do) then i would be forced to admit that i've been utterly and incomprehensibly in love with you from the moment i first saw you. a memory which i revisit nearly as often as i fantasize about you.

it's not revisited enough. at least, not enough to burn off the remainder of your lingering presence in my mind. something i doubt i'll ever be able to truly remove, though i'm not sure i'd ever want too. but if i did, if i had to move on from you, i doubt that i would ever be able too. both a matter of lacking the courage and the simple fact that i'm afraid that i will not ever be able to love anyone as i have loved you. because you, in every essence of yourself, are love to me. more so than any textbook definition and scientific measurement.

i can't seem to get you out of my head. so do me a favor and come to me in person instead. please.

about chenle's love letters.

all of chenle's letters are never meant to see the light of day, much less your gaze. he writes them on whatever is in his reach in the moment, the spare napkin laying on his desk and the back of the cardboard box from his most recent purchase. his words are lovely and kind, filled with an adoration that he expresses to you in touch rather than prose, filing the letters away in the bottom drawer of his desk. they'll reach your eyes some day, just not now, not when he feels like his heart may burst at the mere thought of you.

he often writes his letters in an irritated daze, bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyes set, furrowed, upon the bridge of his nose. the grip of his pen is tight, ink pushing harsh into the paper. all of his letters are written with love, despite being tainted by the faint impression of vexation. an aggravation stemming from the fault of feeling too much. loving too much. something chenle finds easy to blame upon you for all intents and purposes.

your mailbox

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot thank you for supporting me! ♡

🧾 © 00127am 2024

[shimera]

What’s the difference between a tattoo and paint job in WoC?

Oooh that's a good question! Also it took me way too long to answer so uh sorry-- Sorta very long post ahead yea

I think, cars do have a different meanings to the word tattoo since, well, they're cars and they can just repaint whatever they want kind of any time they want to (if they have the money and time, of course). These things won't be just as permanent as tattoos on people, so cars do have more acceptance for the drawings on theirs bodies too (and that's one of the few ways for them to decorate themselves in comparison to humans)

The paint job is basically when the car needs some scratches/dents fixed, or gets a new part, or just wants to change the color of the overall paint, and the thing includes sanding the part down, fixing stuff if necessary and painting it again with plain color.

The "tattoos", though, are much more interesting, so I'll ramble a bit under a cut (no graphics descriptions of human tattooing process there, don't worry, it's just long af)

Now there are different ways to get a "tattoo" on a car: you can get a bunch of decals, you can use stickers or you can have someone do some airbrush painting on you.

Airbrushing, I think, is the most permanent one of the three since to cover THAT up you'll need to sand it all down and most likely get a new paint job for that part because it goes under a layer of varnish just like a regular paint job (I guess, this is the closest to a tattoo thing a car can get). To get the airbrushing done the original layer of varnish is sanded, so the paint could stick to the surface. Next, the picture is painted, and now the new layer of varnish has to be applied on top - so everything stays in place and is all shiny again.

Decals and stickers are the less permanent ones as they can wear down more easily and can be removed without damaging the paint job, also they are much easier to get applied, though, if I remember correctly, you can put a layer of varnish on top of a decal to make it more permanent.

Also there probably are ways for cars to get some bad tattoos like they do in prisons or low quality underground shops in human world, and for that permanent markers, spray paint and regular paint can be used. Even though they are not as permanent as human tattoos made in similar circumstances these methods definitely take place (just as we can see people decorate their cars in real world with markers and spray paint).

Spray paint tattoos are more likely to be associated with an Inexperienced and poor artists who may be making these even for free or for a small fee just to practice or maybe save for a better equipment. Regular paint (like with a brush idk) goes in a similar category, I think.

Also, spray paint would be hard to find in prisons, so most likely the permanent marker "tattoos" will be strongly associated with prison, just like the tattoos with pen ink are in real world (idk how relevant are pen ink tats nowadays but a lot of people live in communities where any low quality tattoo is associated with prisons and criminal stuff). So yea I think it's a fun little detail to add to your car ocs who may have been criminals or have whatever other reason they decided to get themselves "tattooed" this way.

The other method I want to mention is purposely scratching the paint job. This one is the most dangerous for the car because the layers of varnish, paint and primer are protecting the metal from rusting (this is why even with a smallest scratch that managed to make it's way through all the layers the car could rust really bad if you're unlucky enough). Still, I think, this one could take place in some extreme car communities, maybe they could even fill up the scratches with some sort of paint or other materials to make it more visible (like the tattoos in some human cultures where they put the pigments directly into the freshly made wounds, or maybe like scarring). This is probably the least used method, still, it could take place in Cars world.

Uhh well that's what I personally think, and if you maybe have other ideas feel free to add!

[cobragardens]

Another Post About Crowley's Terrible Handwriting

Actually his handwriting here isn't terrible, it's just, like Anathema's spelling, 300 years too late.

So first, I posit that we can be reasonably confident this is Crowley's handwriting because he is very likely the only celestial being besides Aziraphale who can spell devourer correctly.

Crowley has taken more care than usual with his penmanship today because this is a Fancy Presentation, and there are some delightful things to note about it:

--The beautiful serifs on each letter and variation in width of the strokes (the lowercase r's especially)

--Enthusiastic but intermittent capitalization of nouns

--The L that ends "Hail" is a small capital like the ones used in the Bible to spell LORD; the l in Worlds is lower-case

--The lozenge shape of the letter o

--Both s-es are oversized and dip below the writing line

--The kerning is terrible, the script wanders off the writing line at several points, and the location of the writing line is not imagined consistently

I am not an expert in the history of handwriting, but every single point of this suggests to me that Crowley learned to write in English in the late 16th or early 17th century, between say 1570 and 1620, and he learned to do it by copying printed material, not somebody else's handwriting. And it looks like late 16th-century writing. Or rather, like somebody learned to write by copying late 16th-century print and hasn't practiced enough for his style to change significantly in the last 400-500 years.

This means Crowley would have learned using a quill pen, poor devil, and if that's true no wonder he doesn't do it more often. (I wonder if this is why he now owns a pen that looks like it can break the sound barrier; if the Bentley is a permanent replacement for the loathsome, buttocks-abusing horse, maybe he keeps the expensive pen as self-reassurance that he'll never have to write with a quill again.) Quill pens would explain the lozenge-shaped o's: quills can only make a downstroke, so writers who used them shape o's as lozenges made of four downstrokes. Someone who learned writing with a quill would shape his o's like a calligrapher.

16th/early 17th century is the earliest I think Crowley would have learned to write in English because before that there was no block print; there was no print at all, only handwritten scripts of varying legibility, none of which look remotely like Crowley's handwriting does.

Here's what print looked like in Germany in 1471 (printing does not arrive in England for another 5 years after this):

The printing press showed up in England in 1476. Between 1500 and 1600, England got its shit sorted out wrt fonts and typesetting and started turning out what we would recognize today as readable material.

Here's what English printing looked like in 1623, c. 150 years after the German one above:

Not bad, right? I've received Xerox copies less legible than this in classes I paid for. I think it is likely based on his handwriting that Crowley learned to write from printed material a decade or two older than this. The adornments Crowley puts on his letters are serifs, not ligatures: these are not letters that were ever meant to join up in cursive, but letters that were copied from typeset.

From the 16th through the mid-19th century, variations in how a handwriter capitalized letters were very common, and two of these variations show up in Crowley's writing as well.

First, English inherited from German the capitalization of all its nouns. You can see it in Titus Andronicus, above (1623). Due to variations in education and taste, this quickly shifted to capitalization of whichever nouns the writer (or publisher, or printer) felt were important to capitalize, as you can see in Paradise Lost from 1688, below. Hail the Great Beast, devourer of Worlds.

Second, It was also very common during this time to capitalize terminal letters of words, either as a sign to the reader that previous letters had been omitted or because writers using quill pens wanted to be sure readers knew what letter they were looking at through the smudges and weird spacing and general wretchedness of the reading experience imposed by quill writing. I think this latter reason may be why Crowley writes "HaiL" when his other letter L, in "Worlds," is both lowercase and carefully printed with a pretty serif.

Handwriters in English between 1500 and 1800 also had a major hard-on for abusing the letter s, which was shaped like a lowercase f (to contemporary eyes) or a loose S, either of which drop below the writing line. Here's an example in print from 1688:

Use of the long S in print fell out of favor and disappeared abruptly in the UK after 1800.

Crowley's S-es could be a holdover from this: they both drop below the writing line, and they're both oversized.

What I think we can say for sure is that he's not very good at writing s-es, so they always turn out bigger than he intends. The S in "Beast" is noticeably different at the left curve than the S in "Worlds," which I would expect for someone who hasn't written thousands of s-es yet, and the S in "Worlds" looks very much like someone has faithfully rendered a shape they have seen rather than written a letter. Since he can write a letter r elegantly but can't do a curved s, it suggests to me that he hasn't had as much practice doing the curved s yet as he has the other letters, which fits with someone used to writing a long s 75% of the time.

Even the kerning speaks to me of someone who learned to write with a quill: leaving (comparatively) large spaces between letters gives the ink somewhere to drip and smudge without rendering the letter illegible.

There's one other reason I think Crowley probably learned to write in English in the 16th century: He's lazy, and he probably wouldn't have needed to know before then.

The movable-type press arrived in England in 1476. The Protestant Reformation kicked off in England c. 60 years later in 1534 when Henry VIII declared himself head of the English Church. Prior to the surge in literacy among the wealthy and merchant classes in the 16th century, thanks to this intersection of printing press and Protestants (who believe it's important that each person read the Bible for themselves), almost no one knew how to read, including most of the gentry and nobility, and still fewer knew how to write. If you had a message, you sent a guy or you showed up yourself. If you had something you wanted recorded, you summoned a scribe. If you needed to know something, you found somebody who knew and you asked them.

By the time of Queen Elizabeth's accession in 1558, 82 years after William Caxton began operating England's first movable-type printing press, a fully literate royal court were passing each other and their spies and their assassins gossipy notes like everybody was a 12yo in math class. Elizabeth wrote letters and poems. Among the gentry gentlewomen replaced monks as the medical caregivers for their communities (bc Henry shut down all the monasteries), and they wrote and shared and copied multi-generational "receipt books" and herbals of medical and cosmetic treatments. In the space of a single generation, literacy--the ability to write, not just to read--became a prerequisite for functioning in the upper echelons of society.

So if he didn't already know by then, Crowley would have needed to learn to write in English in the mid-16th century. And he would have had to learn it with a quill. (Wearing black probably came in handy for all the ink he spilled or dripped on himself.)

Last to consider is the W in "Worlds," which has no serifs and is not written with any particular attempt at straightness or symmetry. To me this suggests that Crowley learned to write w's from a modern reference, not his original reference. And this makes perfect sense: w was very much in use in the 16th century in English, but nobody agreed on how to write or print it, so there were crossed v's, two capital U's, and this weird gothic lowercase n with extra tentacles. W, Crowley would have learned, always needs to be checked up on before you commit.

Crowley's spelling here is modern, which is frankly a huge achievement for someone who was present for the formation and transformation of all 3 English languages. The contemporary Modern English we use today was a going concern for over 2 centuries before anyone wrote an English dictionary, and it was three centuries before dictionaries became authorities on how to spell correctly and people started giving a shit about that. (Before that as long as people could read the word and understand what you meant by it in context, you'd spelt it correctly.)

Taken together, the W and the modern spelling suggest that although Crowley almost never writes by hand, he reads regularly. This matches with two Words of God I've seen from Neil Gaiman (which I am too lazy to find and link) in which he mentions that Crowley likes to read but won't admit to doing so or to liking books.

Aziraphale should get him a book about ducks for Valentine's Day.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

ALSO. this is completely unrelated to anything but one of my loose power ideas for ashe so far is just. straight up telekinesis (inorganic/non alive matter) w/ an upper range limit that's like a couple times his body weight.... terrifying!! fits w/ the fucking. structurally unsound house collapsing around them & his mom trapped & crushed & everything happening around them!! maybe the longer he has it running/the more strain he's under, the more powerful he gets & the less he's like actively aware of what he's doing (like labyrinth) & the more it just runs on autopilot (bad bad fucked up and bad and dangerous) & the less he's cognizant the harder it is to come back down (<- related 2 breaker shit somehow. ur turn. handing u the half finished thing make it work please :( )... trickster state ant death spiral.... kind of is similar a little bit to his stuff in canon if u stretch it a lot.... anyway not married to this at all just throwing stuff at the wall <33

I ALSO HAVE TRICKSTER THOUGHTS. OKA.Y. FUCK. so. thinking abt him as his Own Person......... i love u trickster....... i just got to the part where he's hanging out with the lil girl in her treehouse. just some dude!! :]]] ..... so. sliding across the table to lean in towards u pulling out my ballpoint pen & sketching out diagrams on my cocktail napkin.

^i think.... the trickster could be something like this. he could get to have some crazy master shit going on where he can control & affect other capes like the chaos demons in canon. alec if he had a greater range of control & could permanently or semipermanently fuck with ur brain settings etc. u see where im going w this.... i think he should get to control ashe :] PUPPET SHIT NOT EVEN FUCKING INTENTIONAL BTW im just kind of crazy abt this also. like. dinah situation except he isn't drugged out of his mind (well. maybe. redundancies) he's just always in his loose nuke fugue state & kept in the trickster's control, he's very handy! he likes this one, he's so useful, he doesn't wanna give him up! :) i have no clue How the trickster would find him in this scenario btw. i just think it would fucking suck for everyone involved <3333 anyway.

ALSO FUCKING ILL OVER ALL UR ASHE/TRICKSTER STUFF BTW. haven't said it bc all of that is in the mile long draft i'm still working on but believe me i am like shaking and sobbing and on the floor puddle of blood abt it all ur so right ab everything forever. ANYWAY. thoughts??

ohhhhh telekinesis and losing control of his telekinesis as he gets worse is REALLY good. yea yea yea I like that a lot. u are handing this to me to make sense of okay okay lemme put my brain into gear thinking about Scenarios. under the cut time before I ramble about nhw like a madman for the billionth time. trickster state ant death spiral is a sentence that will be in my mind all day today i just know it. why do we keep doing horrible ant things to our little guys (it's ashes turn under the solar death ray now)

okay his shaker powers manifesting as telekinesis is perfect for the tragic irony part of the power thing (which. can you tell I fucking love that little detail? god that's so fucking good. your powers will help you. theoretically. but watch out!! that's so fucking delicious and awful). he triggered in a house that was about to collapse, his mom crushed by whatever it was that fell on her, of course hed want to save her and get her out! but the irony and futility comes in waves where. 1) he lifts up the bookshelf or whatever it is and that doesn't matter because she's already crushed. 2) he can't even help her with his powers because they can only affect inorganic material. he can't move her (he's only 8, he's so small) . 3) he is in a state of extreme distress and these first two realizations are making it worse and. where is he? what was he doing? Who is he? who's that person on the ground? UGHAHHVHV. HORRIFYING.

altered mental states and hypnotism and not being able to control your actions and being made to do something terrible and not being able to stop it is such a uniquely awful type of fear, and I think that kind of fear kind of compounds on itself to make it worse once he realizes its happening? I think he doesn't notice the fact that he's losing control at first. he's getting stressed and pushing himself harder and wow! his powers are actually responding to that, he's getting stronger! awesome! but stuff just gradually starts getting more... blurry. floaty. he becomes less responsive to the things around him. someone calls out to him and it takes him longer than it should to process that, he doesnt immediately recognize the words or whos saying them. and like you said kind of eventually shifts into autopilot. it's almost like he's fading out of consciousness but he's Awake the whole time. he's just not Aware . which, in a fight that's happening in a big open space like the whirlwind fight for example. that's not Too bad because there's less of a chance he'll accidentally hit someone he shouldn't be targeting. in closer quarters it gets really dangerous really fast, it's really easy to pinpoint exactly where and when he starts losing control.

side note rq im imagining the way this would work on a team, with the others kind of constantly keeping him in check, making sure he doesn't go too far with his powers? thinking about the way Failsafe's powers work, I think he's always sort of dimly aware of his teammates in the background and when ashe starts to lose control he either a) his pain level goes fucking haywire and sets of all the alarm bells in dakotas mind OR b) he drops off the radar completely. unresponsive, it's almost like he dies, he just gets totally cut off from the pain sense so dakota can immediately feel something is wrong, looks around in panic thinking hes gonna find ashe on the ground but hes still just standing there using his powers (i cant decide which of these is worse. smile). so dakota makes it his unofficial responsibility to be Ashe's lock check in a fight, esp with his mover powers, he's able to get to ashe fastest and easiest without being hit by any stray projectiles. bear with me bc im weak for these types of scenes (picturingggg that scene with vex and percy at the end of tlovm....) where dakota just puts his hands on either side of ashes face and just talks to him like "come back to me, don't get lost, don't let yourself fall" etc etc can anyone hear me it's so dark in here. and that sort of thing works for them for a long time because its a direct physical outside interference, ashe is able to kind of wake up from his fugue state and turn down his powers and bring himself back to awareness because dakota can usually get to him before he passes the point of no return. usually being the key word here.

operating with the breaker stuff being trickster mode still (I'll get 2 ur other idea about trickster after this but let me live in the moment for a second) I think THAT becomes the point of no return. once ashe gets to an emotional/mental state where he feels like he's in a situation too similar to his trigger, the breaker powers kick in and he becomes totally unable to control his actions (maybe with practice and training he could learn how to control his breaker stuff but hey he was actively extremely discouraged from even thinking about using his powers for a solid 10-ish years of his life, thanks mark :) ) . still imagining this is trickster mode, that's where he shifts forms and becomes less Ashe and more Trickster. ashe is still in there somewhere, maybe, but it gets REALLY REALLY difficult to break him out of that state until he feels like the threat is gone and there's no more danger. which. because he can't distinguish or recognize individual people when he's like this, having three other REALLY Powerful Capes around him does not minimize the feeling that he's in danger !!! the wards trying to break him out of trickster mode directly would probably just make things worse or put themselves in danger.

power mechanic wise I get this feeling that breaker powers because they overlap with the other classifications so much, that means breaker forms can manifest their own powers that could fall under other classifications? so in Trickster form his powers become less shaker and more master? (hey more similarities with wibby I'm sure wibby feels really normal about this). i don't think you've seen trickster in an actual fight yet so im a little hesitant to tell u this but considering you've seen the my friend mr giggles part you're close enough that i don't feel too bad about it- aside from the chaos demon master shit I REALLYYYY like the trickster being able to manipulate his environment (breaker powers) but being limited to like. carnival bullshit. games. the big throwing knife wheel. the floor is lava but Real. using a giant pinwheel as a weapon. as soon as Circus was introduced in worm i was like THIS IS SOME TRICKSTER SHIT !!!!!!. i don't know why ashes powers specifically would manifest like that (maybe because he triggered as a young kid and it's his brain tapping into the childlike tendencies of seeing everything as a game, turning the horrible scenarios into "something fun" as fucksd up as that is, idfk) so maybe this leans more into the trickster being a separate person but those are most of my thoughts on him for now :]

WHICH LEADS INTO YOUR THINF REALLY WELL, TRICKSTER BEING A DIFFERENT GUY. which. I do ljke this because it's actually. closer to the case in canon and would make sense for us to tie into the implications for season 3 (being. extremely vague here but we could do some TERRIBLE shit w trickster for season 3 if he's a separate guy. smile) THE ONLY THING. STOPPING ME FROM FULLY AGREEING W U ON THIS (u know I looooovd the pain of puppet imagery I am so down for this torture) IS THAT. I DONT HAVE ANY OTHER IDEAS about how ashes breaker powers would manifest. or how/if/why trickster would be present for his mom's death (although I guess he doesn't necessarily have to be?) i think maybe the compromise here would be to give ashe the carnival shit breaker powers and have those just be His, while trickster can just be a separate s-class master who favors ashe specifically because he likes having control of those powers (because they're fun! "why him?" "i like this one. fits like a glove :)")

OKAY. FUCK. THIS TOOK ME LIKE 2 HOURS TO TYPE UP AND IM AT WORK NOW ILL MAYBE ADD ONTO THIS LATER IF I TJINK OF ANYTHING ELSE BUT. HI GOODMORNIGN IM GONNA SPEND MY WHOLE SHIFT THINKING ABT THIS

[thanatologie]

anyway good morning i'm too lazy to make swatches myself because i have too much ink to dig through, but remember that fun little talk we had about emmrich and stationery, no, well we had that, so here's the modern inks i'm deciding are emmrich-coded, i do not accept criticism at this time (swatches from mountain of ink, fwiw):

there's a couple others that i'd throw in here for giggles that either don't have a swatch at moi, or have the vibe but i don't think he'd use, like iroshizuku ina-ho (now discontinued, too light / non-water and light resistant for academic use), krishna lyrebird blue-black (takes too long to dry), herbin emerald of chivor (too fussy as a shimmer, though i could also see him using the unshaken ink so the shimmer is absent), colorverse a lib (too light for academic/practical use but it hits that lilac button hard), and like a million more that would be fun, but not practical. like i'm with you, i'd love to give him multi-shaders/tri-colors/prismatics, but lbr.

(also this is a record for me, so i can remember what i have inked for what i'm using with his handy dandy shit he would know that i'm too stupid to know notebook. i'm sorry for you and me that yama-budo is the only fun one, tbh, but it writes darker in the pen i'm using it in, so outside of gold sheen, even it's not that fun in practice.

there's also a few that i'm using that don't have swatches because they are extremely hard to come by, like post-wwii late-1940s parker quink permanent blue-black, 1950s sheaffer skrip washable blue, wwii-era parker quink microfilm black, etc, and ink that's bog standard, anyway, like waterman serentiy blue and kaweco royal blue.)

but they all, in some way, exemplify important facets of use for an academic, because these are all qualities i looked for in an ink for note-taking, which is water-resistance/waterproof, fast-drying, works well on any kind of paper, legible on literally all paper, and with the exception of yama-budo (though, again, in certain nibs it's much darker / much less pink and more really, really dark magenta) exude a certain professionalism (which lbr for all his flamboyance is clearly important to him).

thanks for coming.

[plusultraetc]

WOW please ignore how much this brush in red looks kind of like blood upon closer inspection. I was trying to do Christmas colors with the green background + red & white letters and it went... questionably.

Anywho, here is the promised advent calendar recap/review (part 1!! to be followed by a very brief part 2 on or after Christmas lol) I've been having a really lovely time opening these every day, and I'm really excited to see what the final four pockets contain 👀

Day 1: All Might pin | Okay, so I actually knew about this one in advance--when I was reading item descriptions on different websites, trying to figure out whether or not I wanted to buy the advent calendar, someone posted a picture of this pin in their review 😭 Which, like, rude ig but it was a selling point for the calendar itself, so I really can't be mad about it. He looks like he's going for the world's greatest fist bump.

Day 2: Iida sticker | Iida truly said everyone out of the way, I have to appear in this advent calendar before Midoriya and Bakugou, and I love that for him. I am a very big journal & planner person so I'm always looking for more stickers, and I already have a small MHA collection where this one can live until I find a permanent place for it!

Day 3: 1-A pencil | Pretty self-explanatory, but I am like. Stupidly charmed by this. It's a really cute addition to my pen cup.

Day 4: MHA keychain | This has been one of my favorite items in the advent calendar. I've actually been needing a new keychain, and I really love the crest-like design. 10/10, flawless.

Day 5: MHA magnet | The first of the magnets! Love love love the color palette of this one, especially the hint of purple in the outline around the letters.

Day 6: Tsu & Uraraka to/from gift tags | These are also super cute, and such a great idea for an advent calendar!! Unfortunately, I don't know many MHA fans irl, so I doubt I'll be using them unless I plaster, like. Two people's gifts with four labels each 😭 One of my friends did dress up as Tsu for Comic Con this year, so she may be about to have A Very Froppy Christmas 🐸 🎄

Day 7: Hawks sticker | HAWKS STICKER MY BELOVED. This one is actually a puffy sticker, which can be a bit of a pain to place in a journal when you want to write on the following page, but they also add some fun dimension so I use them anyway lol. Needless to say, I Love Him.

Day 8: Endeavor puzzle | Everyone I've asked has concurred that this is indeed meant to be a puzzle!! Regardless of one's opinions on Endeavor, it is objectively hilarious that the makers of this advent calendar said 'here is a small picture of this man. Destroy Him.'

Day 9: Midoriya & Bakugou door hanger | Another incredibly amusing inclusion. Midoriya, who is supposed to be the 'welcome' side, looks like he's about to punch you across the continent. Meanwhile, Katsuki "Stay Out" Bakugou looks like he wants you to try it, actually. Make his day.

Day 10: Aizawa & Present Mic bookmark | My personal favorite, the erasermic bookmark. I'm currently using this for book club, and I have zero notes. They bring me inestimable joy.

Day 11: Shigaraki magnetic bookmark | Much like stickers, I always, always need more bookmarks. This one is kinda heavy, but not so much that it's cumbersome to use. However, my dog Hates Him--I say him, not it, because she was also Not A Fan of my Shigaraki figure when I unboxed him, which is weird because she's largely uninterested in the others except for the most recent addition to the collection. I think it's because their more dynamic poses are supported by an extra stand--they're definitely a little shakier and less stable than the others, but that still doesn't explain the bookmark. ANYWAY I've already started using this for my current non-manga read, go little rock star, no ragrets.

Day 12: All Might sticker | TRULY so many W's in a row. I do wish we'd gotten a little more creative with the pose here (it's the same as the one on the pin), but I Get It and I'm pleased with this one anyway.

Day 13: Toga pin | So I actually really love the look of this kind of pin on tote bags, and while I do already have a few of those, this was the point that I became Very Tempted to buy an MHA-themed tote and start yet another collection. Which, I haven't. Yet. Either way, she's very cute.

Day 14: Dabi holographic card | Dabi is the clear favorite villain of whoever designed this calendar, because this little card is literally so cool. Fittingly, he gets ✨dramatic effects✨ and ✨two poses✨ (the second pose is pictured below). I'm not yet sure if I'm going to use double-sided tape to turn this, too, into a sticker, but I think it's really fun either way.

Day 15: Midoriya tree ornament | Cute in theory, but admittedly very flimsy. It is however very seasonally-appropriate and therefore the flimsiness is excused.

Day 16: UA magnet | THIS IS SO CUTE. I absolutely love this kind of 'in-universe' merch, so this is another favorite advent calendar item.

Day 17: Tokoyami magnet | I was surprised that, of all the characters they chose to dedicate a magnet to, it was Tokoyami & Dark Shadow, but like. Surprised (affectionate). Surprised (positive). A surprise to be sure, but a welcome one, etc. This did get stuck to the table while I was taking pictures, but ain't that just the way. Go little rock star x2.

Day 18: Character cards | I don't have a lot to say about these, but they were fun!

Day 19: Kaminari note cards | Again: SUPER cute, and I love the pose they chose (lol), even though I personally don't have much of a use for them.

Day 20: UA sticky notes | ANOTHER FAVORITE, because I Love Stationery, so this is like the UA magnet but better. I would have paid the full price of the advent calendar for these + the erasermic bookmark because I am insane. Okay that might be an exaggeration, but still. Everything else is just almost-as-delightful gravy.

Day 21: Todoroki cardboard standee | Adorable!! I can definitely find a place for this on my bookshelf, so I'm really happy with this one too!

[wordsandrobots]

What would be your top 10-20 Favorite IBO characters?

I . . . genuinely don't know if I can answer this.

There are a few I have little to say about. The Brewers leadership. Radice. Henri Fleurs. Jasley. Perfectly functional characters who do what they need to do but whose role encloses itself.

There are some I find tricky to write -- Takaki, Zack -- because for whatever reason it's harder for me to capture the distinctiveness of their mannerisms.

But top? Favourite? I fear I'll just start listing everyone in order of appearance. Obviously I've done a lot of fanfic focused on Shino and Yamagi. Their relationship is the spur that got me writing Iron-Blooded Orphans fanfic. And I've loved working with characters like Eugene and Ride, finding places to take them after the show, to create paths for their lives and more grown-up voices.

Yet in large part that's necessity. I write post-canon, I use the crayons left over in the box. Mikazuki and Orga form an incredible motor that drives the anime plot towards disaster. Kudelia and Atra are a fundamental reconfiguring of tropes that in other shows make me want to take a red pen to the script. Mika's polycule is consequently an even split between an adorable, wholesome rejection of traditional love-triangles, and exquisite, inevitable tragedy. Also Hush is there, He can be counted in the polycule, as a treat. Gods, Hush. The guy who joined the wrong PMC for his epic hero arc, who goes from watching his best friend commit suicide over being a burden and a failure, to unhesitatingly acting as mobility aid to the kid he started out resenting for dodging that same fate. He's a relatively minor player, overall, but there is so much there to unpack. *So much*.

And therein lies the problem. The cast is huge and they're not all given much to do, but they almost universally come with a depth of interest and nuance. Sweet Chad, at once awkward and downcast, worried about his social standing, and also the one to give blunt voice to the kill-or-be-killed trap of fighting people forced on to the battlefield. Gaelio, my favourite stress-toy, my darling blue-haired numpty, the knight in shining ignorance who muddled his way to morality, far too late in the day. Ein Dalton, protagonist of the wrong story and nascent fruit-loop, his apotheosis rudely interrupted by a broken mirror-image of himself. Argi Mirage, over in the manga, a basically decent person behind the semi-permanent glower, embedded in a slightly less poverty-stricken level of society, still dealing with the same old capitalistic crap.

We've got Yukinojo (disadvantaged by his cybernetic legs, never quite a responsible father-figure), Merribit (the adult in the room, with all the wrong experience), Makanai (arch-political operator, discovering his conscience only to view it as a curse), Savarin (trapped by class aspirations, predicting the way everything will end), that one Gjallarhorn officer captaining the Sleipnir (did he ever get to make up for missing his daughter's birthday?), and oh so many more.

There are stories to tell with these people and the one we get gestures are a dozen others, which is something I find irresistible. I can -- and have -- spent so long exploring and expanding upon them because I *want* to write about them all, be they best-case products of appalling systems (Rustal Elion), fools shaped by their circumstances in ways that haven't quite curbed their potential (Julieta) or simply doofy gremlin children who I'd really like to see get a happy ending even while I know that's vanishingly unlikely in the long run (598).

At this point, I really don't think I even know where to start putting them in order, much less cutting them down to a mere twenty.

[bejoomi]

letters i can't send: 02

saturday after training, joomi drives to his usual bar.

he doesn't get out of the car, though. he sits in the parking lot and fights with himself.

he desperately wants to kiss someone – to feel wanted again, just for a little while. it doesn't have to mean anything. he can flirt with a random guy at the bar and make out with him and maybe go home with him, if the stars align. he can feel a little less lonely for a few hours, until reality sets in and he feels empty and cold.

this is what he does to cope – not always, but too often. he knows it isn't healthy. he knows he'll never find what he really wants here. he is just chasing remnants of what he once had, desperate to prove to himself that the emptiness isn't permanent – that he will one day feel satisfied and safe again.

but he doesn't. again and again, he doesn't and he doesn't.

he knows the key doesn't lie in another person. he needs to learn how to be alone again. it's such a strange concept, for someone who spent 20 years of his life only relying on himself. his therapist says this is normal and understandable. of course he doesn't want to go back to how things were now that he knows what it's like to be loved. of course the idea of it scares him. of course he feels sad and lonely and empty.

he pulls out of the bar parking lot and drives home. the apartment is quiet when he arrives. sua is likely still training, or maybe asleep. biscuit doesn't even come to greet him at the door.

he bellyflops onto his bed.

sometimes, these days, he is angry, too – because this suffering was all preventable. jinyoung could've stayed. he just chose not to.

joomi grabs one of his notebooks and a pen, then sits back down on his bed.

he still feels silly doing this, but his therapist told him it would be good for him, so he might as well keep trying. he starts writing:

jinyoung,

i miss you. it really pisses me off.

i met up with kou for drinks after you enlisted. i told him you told me you loved me a couple days beforehand. he said "that's a little cruel, to finally tell you he loves you only to leave."

i didn't even think of it like that. isn't that sad? i was just so happy then. so happy to win any shred of your affection and have proof of it.

in some ways, nobody else gets it. nobody knows how hard we worked for you to be able to love me. both of us worked hard. so you telling me was an accomplishment. but kou is still right.

you didn't have to leave. you could've just stayed. i'm sure you could've gotten a job at jindallae's restaurant while you figured out what you wanted to do next. you could've at least given me more time.

we worked so hard for...years, for two weeks of being in love. and i loved those two weeks. i just wish it could've been longer. even if you still enlisted, couldn't you have waited until after christmas? after my birthday? did you know how excited i was to be loved by you on christmas and my birthday? and maybe i still was, even though you weren't here for them. but i don't know.

i know you loved me as best as you could, but that doesn't mean it was well. that doesn't mean it was the kind of love i deserve. you know that, don't you? i think you always knew that.

but it's still the love i want. i have been trying so hard to move on. too hard, maybe. i'm trying a different strategy these days, where i just feel how i feel and accept it. i always feel better when i don't beat myself up for my thoughts or feelings. i've gotten better at that in recent years, but it's still a habit to feel stupid for feeling certain things.

these days i feel stupid for still loving you as much as i do. it's been over six months now – how is it still this fucking bad? how do i still miss you so much? how am i still here like a dog waiting for you to come home? i would do anything i could to get a glimpse of you through the mail slot. i am still here putting my paws against the window searching for your face.

it's embarrassing, but it's just how things are. i love you so much, moon jinyoung, and i don't know why. i just do.

i hope i move on soon, or that you come back for me and tell me that you love me and that you missed me. i am trying not to wait, but i'm not trying to move on. it hurts too much. it doesn't work and it's frustrating and i know it's because i'm just not ready. so i think instead of trying to move on, i need to just...i don't know. i don't know yet. i think i just need to exist where i am, and grow without forcing it.

so i love you. so i miss you. so i'm mad at you, and for now, i still know that if you walked through my bedroom door today i would wrap you up in my arms right away. i'd kiss your face and tell you that i love you and missed you and make you promise me you won't leave me like this again.

but that's not reality. you won't come home for another year and i might not be part of what home is to you by then. maybe i will love someone else and be happier than i ever was with you. that would be nice.

in the meantime, i will just...feel it all. i still wish you were here. there are still some days i wake up hoping this was all a dream and that i'll find you next to me again.

but you aren't, and that is a choice you made. it is a choice i have to live with. and it's frustrating. you never sacrificed a thing for me, did you? you never considered my feelings in any choice you ever made. you never apologized to me, either. how could i love someone like that? how could i love you so much? how could i do this to myself?

sometimes i wonder if it would've been better if i let you get kicked out of that cat cafe instead of buying you a drink and getting in a fight with you. would the universe keep bringing us together again? were we just...destined to meet, and fall in our dysfunctional form of love? i never believed in shit like that before. i don't know.

i did my best. i wasn't perfect, but i loved you so earnestly, in ways you might not have deserved. and it was painful a lot, but i loved loving you. life with you made me understand what people mean when they say they love being alive.

so i will treasure my time with you always. part of me hopes this is just a small bump in a lifetime's long road with you. part of me hopes this is it, and that i'll be over you tomorrow and never look back.

realistically, i'll end up somewhere in the middle. but you did change my life, moon jinyoung. a lot of times it was painful, but you changed my life for the better in the end. so thank you.

i hope you feel the same way about me. it would make me really happy if you thought i changed your life for the better. i hope you tell me that one day. i hope i mattered to you that much. i think that would be enough.

okay, i think i feel better now. thanks for listening, void jinyoung. i do still miss you, but i'll see you soon enough.

[khwxbeeda]

The tattoo gun looks intimidating. The new friends I've made— people from my new college whom I've known for less than a week— ooh and aah over the thing.

I suppress a smile.

It's not that scary, I tell them, and I believe that. It's just a needle.

One of them (the one that's been protesting my decision to get myself permanently marked because she thinks I'm making an impulsive decision) gives me a look of potent disbelief. I simply wink at her before pulling my T-shirt over my head and lean back against the chair to let the tattoo artist press the stencil into my skin. She rolls her eyes, and then all four of them drag their stools to sit in front of my chair.

The artist asks me to check the tattoo placement, and I move to the mirror, admiring the navy blue ink under my collarbone.

I want this. I have wanted this for almost four years now.

I sit on the chair again and watch as the man unwraps the needle's packaging and slides it into the gun, tattooed fingers moving nimbly to perform a motion he perfected years ago. The ink is poured into the little pocket, some kind of cooling cream is rubbed over my skin, and the process begins.

There is no pain.

I sit back and close my eyes, breathing in and breathing out, listening to my new friends whispering to each other and the soft buzz of the gun.

It's quiet. Quiet enough that I am lulled into a drowsy state; not quite asleep, not quite awake. The pressure of the needle is akin to a ball pen being dragged over my flesh— a sensation I'm extremely familiar with. Distantly, I remember that one day, back when I was fifteen, when I had tried to draw this very tattoo on my shoulder with my hand with a pen. It hadn't gone very well; the design had been wobbly and imperfect and the ink had smudged within the first five seconds.

The gun lifts, a soft tissue is used to wipe off the excess ink, and then the needle is moving over my skin again.

I notice it dimly. I am more than halfway asleep, and the white noise along with the gentle pressure of the tattoo gun is only making me go deeper into the realm of dreams. Something— a button— clicks faintly, and soft music fills the air. It's a song from the film Jab We Met, and one corner of my lips ticks up into a soft smile.

Its over before I realise it.

Between one blink and another, I'm standing in front of the mirror with a plastic film wrapped around my shoulder, admiring my ink.

My first tattoo.

A tiny, delicate crown, etched into my skin right beneath the point where my collarbone meets my shoulder.

A crown, as a reminder that my goal is to be the ruler of my own life.

A crown, as a reminder that while a ruler has complete control over their nation, they are the only one responsible for the state of said nation.

A crown, as a reminder that my life is what I strive to make it.

I smile.

Tags: @oohloverboyy @mad-who-ra @musaafir-hun-yaaron @shanti-ashant-hai @that-mad-indian-woman @orgasming-caterpillar

[rubberduckrobin]

𝙍𝙚𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨.

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Paring: Kaveh x Alhaitham

Type: Slow-burn, angst, in-character and lore accurate,

Summary: Two roommates, two diaries. Kaveh started a diary to understand himself. Alhaitham found himself writing in his to understand Kaveh.

Chapter word count (1/10): Around 2.8k

Author's note: And they were roommates :)

AO3 Link Here

TW: Alcohol abuse, death.

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 1: 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙙.

Kaveh 

August 3rd, Around 11:00 PM

It feels too much like a cliché to start this with ‘dear diary’, but I don’t know how to begin. I’m starting this from Tighnari’s suggestion that I should write to keep track of my work and thoughts, and although it’s helpful, it’s embarrassing, especially if I’m going to get too carried away. Spilling all of my secrets to be read by whoever finds it. Not that I have many secrets, after a night out with drinks you’d be set to turn my life story into a film, at least that’s what I’ve been told. This is probably just going to be the same things being said over and over anyway. That’s how my mind is. 

I’m not really concerned about this being found, because it’s not like it’s lying around in the public open, rather what’s bothering me is that Alhaitham could be the one to find it. If I forget to put it somewhere out of view, I’ll be screwed eternally. Although, I don’t think he would read it, he couldn’t care less about me, and how I feel. 

I’ve struggled to start this but there’s certainly not a lack of things for me to write about, and in fact, there’s something that’s been troubling me:

I had a dream last night, and it was with my dad. We sat together and sprawled out in front of us was a large roll of parchment, and he was scribbling away with a passion in his eyes long missed, but when I turned to do the same, no ink came out. The page, pen and everything around me turned to sand, and when I went to cry into his shoulder, frustrated, he was gone too. I was a child in the dream, with nimble fingers and a lost heart. It almost felt like an actual memory. 

It brought back that distinct image I have of him. I now think about it every time I go to shut my eyes: the door opening to half-reveal my father’s face in the burning sunlight, and the rest of him shrouded in a cold shadow. The last moment I saw him. The light of the door flooding into our ‘home’ wakes me, and I try over and over to get it out of my head, his laugh ringing in my ear, his voice, the one thing I can barely remember, whispering me a promise, to bring me back something nice. He broke that promise, but I know it’s my fault so I have no right to complain. 

My father disappearing wasn't the end of it. It descended further into a nightmare. I was brought to a new dream, one of Alhaitham, of all people, but it was not where he tormented me or even hurt me. He died. I don’t know how, it was more of a realist dream where someone just came and told me the news and left it at that.  

I hadn’t been so scared of death since my father passed.  I woke up almost choked with tears. I don’t know why I was so shaken, I don’t feel anything towards Alhaitham other than - how should I put it? -  abhorrence. Maybe too strong a word? This brought me to question, what would I do if he actually died? Would it affect me? 

I think I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. An empty house is worth nothing more than a shelter. I wouldn’t miss the daily fights, or his bitter coffee, or that stupid smirk of his, but I would miss the reminder of our history; no matter how uncomfortable, it’s better to be reminded you are someone than to feel nothing at all. 

And I guess I would miss the slight possibility of a rekindled friendship. Who knows what the future holds for us? For anyone. My mother, Tighnari, Cyno, the Traveller…Relationships are about as permanent as buildings. I still like to imagine a chance to rebuild what is destroyed, to make it better and stronger.

What would he do if it were me that died? What is there that’s to miss with me? I’m sure he doesn’t find nearly as much identity in our past than I do. He might even be relieved at my death.

I’ve been preparing for multiple projects at once, both in and out of Sumeru city, in the hope to move out soon. I can’t let myself be a burden anymore, I’ve already done that enough. I doubt this will sever all contact I have with him; I’m certain our paths will cross once again. I hope I’m right, because I realise that the reminder he serves is a lot more meaningful to me than I thought until now.

I enjoy my job, and I’m still passionate about it, it’s just a lot at the moment. I can’t back away now, though. One of the buildings I’m designing is a shelter for those affected by The Withering, and I’m going to make it beautiful, so these people have something to admire, to take their minds off of mourning what was lost. However, I fear nothing will beat the beauty of the Palace. They say beauty comes at a price, and that project was the price of my life. 

The shelter project has been fully funded, fortunately, and the only expenses I have to worry about at the moment are for interior design, which shouldn’t be an issue as I’ve taken on a few other projects that can help with that. 

It’s getting late. I’ve found now that writing in a diary is quite therapeutic, I just need to find somewhere to hide it. If it’s Alhaitham reading,  get lost. 

Alhaitham 

August 10th, Around 11:30 PM

A sunny sky with minimal clouds.

Not much happened today that either was an inconvenience, or gave me pleasure. Most of my days are like this, and although most may find it unstimulating and itch to find a more motivating lifestyle, I find this simplicity comfortable. If only the world learnt to make peace. This ideology seems more of a dream nowadays. 

I spent my time today cleaning my living space, not that I let clutter build up, rather I felt like moving things around. I even went to browse the market to see if there was anything interesting. I don’t find much purpose in decor if it’s not practical, so I was in search of something that could be of use, as well as to occupy a blank space. I wound up buying a digital desk clock because the one on my wall has aged. 

I also took time in the old library, and browsing some of the dusted titles, I was brought to think of my grandmother, and that book in which she had wished me a peaceful life. I do think that her blessing really has come true, however that’s only on the days where petty disputes with Kaveh aren’t on the schedule. I’m fortunate I only have to see him in our living quarters. Our bickering isn’t as civil as it was before, when we considered our relationship as an innocent rivalry between friends. Now it’s a sickness of foreign views, opinions and plain arrogance. 

Thoughts of my grandmother then brought me to think of Kaveh and his lack of such support from youth. I’ve taught myself not to pity others and the ideal that people should fend for themselves in a ‘survival of the fittest’ society, as much as they can at the least, but I now realise that Kaveh is like a young abandoned cub, untaught; he doesn’t understand that his forced burnout and escapist alcoholism is backing him into a corner. 

Because of his concerning increase of ‘quick trips’ to the bar, and the horrendous state he leaves our home in when stressed about work, I’ve had to intervene slightly, doing his chores for him. He fails to restock the fridge as he used to, he leaves the coffee table unrecognisable under his work papers. When he finds me touching his papers, he makes the opportunity to argue: that it’s his documents and he should do with them as he pleases. He doesn’t realise that I was in the process of ordering them as he needs them, whether that be alphabetically or referencing each other, and I was making the pile neat, as he likes it, to ensure there were no disputes. It’s to no avail. He used to be so good at doing that himself. I don’t understand how people can inflict trouble on themselves, life already has enough hardships. 

He doesn’t recognise I’m doing all of these things for his own wellbeing. Are my efforts ever going to be noticed, so that he can start to rely on himself out of guilt and possibly even realisation of his self-abandonment? 

Kaveh 

August 21st, Around 12:40 AM

I’ve just gotten that final draft off of my shoulders so I have a bit of time to write to let off the remaining stress that I’ve had to push to the back of my mind. 

In the morning, Alhaitham makes coffee for himself, but recently he has been making me some too. It has no milk and it is bitter. As he hands it to me it scorches my hand and he walks off before I can complain! I’ve given up with thank you’s because he’s closed off his ears to everything I say.

He keeps moving my things around and I tell him to stop, it disrupts my flow, but he just gives me THAT snarky look that says all that needs to be said. He doesn’t spare his ‘precious’ words for me, not even a second thought at this point. I wouldn’t even consider him a roommate, I see him as an ‘inconvenient convenience’. He’s given me a ‘home’ and that’s all I see him as. I wish Things aren’t like how they used to be. 

My day actually wasn't that bad. I took a stroll through the city as a way to clear my head. I saw Tighnari and he said he was on his way to see the Traveller. I wonder what adventure they’re on this time! I’m sure it's much more amazing than sketching day in, day out with a backache and borderline carpal tunnel damage…

I couldn’t imagine the life of a traveller, perhaps that’s because I can’t see myself being any happier than I am with my current job. I don’t make people’s ‘homes’, I won’t give myself credit for that, but I give them a safe and attractive environment to do so themselves, so I certainly take pride in my designs. No matter the customer, they will get my best effort. I think I put so much into projects because if I create significant beauty, that is what will remain of me when I am gone. And perhaps I can inspire others to create their own futures, too. I haven’t felt a feeling of ‘home’ in a while, but in making these buildings I can feel the emotion when people interact with them, redecorating it to their identity, forging memories in each room. 

Nothing is as exhilarating as a fresh, empty room, with plans to come into place. If there were no planning, perhaps there would be more fear than delight, but that is not what comes with these projects I take. Even if the building I design isn’t as well loved or used as it ought to be, it’s still there for the unforeseen future, for when it could become something even better.

I do have a lot of work remaining, I’ve just been procrastinating, so I’ll just have to crack down properly tomorrow. As of now, I’ll sleep. 

Alhaitham

September 11th,  Around 1:00 AM

Cloudy, but moderately welcoming weather. No important events recently. 

My ears are slightly irritated; I've had to wear my noise-cancelling headphones to sleep and it’s uncomfortable. Kaveh’s snoring is horribly incessant, audible through many layers of walls, and that’s a result of poor sleep. He hasn’t been sleeping as well, or as often, and I find that while I’m still up in the late hours finishing the last chapter of my book, I see through a sliver in his door that he’s still hunched over his desk, scratching away at his scalp like a madman. 

I’ve started to stay awake longer than usual just in case he doesn’t sleep at all, because all that will bring is more of a headache for me later on. I haven’t caught him out on this worsening habit yet, but if I hear that annoying pen tapping later than two o’clock, I will have to start telling him to go to bed. I’d rather his snoring. A tired Kaveh is ten times as moody and ten times more vexatious.

I can barely focus, let alone sleep, with all this noise, and wearing my headphones to bed is inconvenient. Not only is it awkward, if there is danger I won’t hear it, so I don’t like risking it, although it’s very unlikely. 

Today I came across Tighnari in the city centre. He said he saw Kaveh recently and he was being quite active, going on a walk of sorts. It’s surprising he actually left the house for once. Tighnari said he was on the way to see the Traveller and I do wonder how they are doing sometimes, with their law-defying, near-death adventures. They must be exhausted, but they don’t ever let that show. Their upbeat energy and even just their presence enlightens me.

I also found myself at the market again, buying some fresh fruit as I was just in the mood for some. I’ll have some for breakfast tomorrow, a refreshing start to the day, unlike usual.

My lesson learnt today is that poor sleep results in snoring and a migraine for the people around you. 

Kaveh 

September 12th, Around 1:00 AM

My day was spent on just one project, which I did, luckily, manage to finish just now. I’ve never craved sleep so much in my life. I long for my pillow, my duvet, everything. If my bed were human I would marry it right here, right now. I’d kill for some food now too, something fresh.

In fact, Alhaitham offered me fruit this morning. How could I say no? Fresh fruit is one thing I can’t say no to. How can he be so infuriating one moment, then the next he does something quite nice? All with a straight face, too. I don’t understand it. 

That fruit did put a perk in my day, maybe that’s why I got so much done. I do wonder if there’s any left. I intend to pull an all-nighter tonight, just to finish one more design. It needs to be perfect, it has so much potential, I’m just one pencil stroke away. 

I’ll go get a bowl of that fruit, and get on. These entries are getting significantly shorter but I don’t have the heart to give up on this entirely yet. A commitment is a commitment. 

Perspective change. Kitchen. 

September 12th, Around 1:00 AM

Kaveh goes to retrieve fruit, but in his path is Alhaitham, silently asleep on the sofa, book in one hand leaning loosely on his chest, and his other outstretched weakly by his side. Kaveh had never seen him so relaxed, as when he slept knowingly in front of others he always had the appearance of a statue, arms folded and eyes shut, as though pondering rather than resting. 

The architect sets a moment to consider this rare sight, surprisingly not so tempted to take a photo, his empathetic side in control. The room is dimly lit with a warmth coming from just a reading lamp, and it flickers ever so slightly, tempting darkness and solitude. The light gently catches and defines Alhaitham’s face, highlighting his serene expression.

He creeps past him but Alhaitham’s attention is caught through a creaking.

“Kaveh?”

“Ah. I was just wondering if there was any fruit left.”, his arms crossing as though closing off to any comment he might make.

“Are you up…again?”

 Alhaithams’ voice is dipped in a husky drowsiness that could drown all sensation but fatigue. It makes Kaveh self-aware.

“Yes! Why does that concern you?”

“You should sleep.”, the gruffness of his voice smoothes as he slowly wakes, squinting in the faltering light.

“No, why? I have a deadline.”

“The more sleep deprived you are, the more of a nuisance you are.”

Kaveh scoffs and sighs, “why are you asleep out here?”

“I’m going to bed now.” Alhaitham's brow twitching as he massages his temple. 

“Just listening to you made me more tired than I already was. God, I’m never going to finish my work.”

Alhaitham turns just as he is about to head for his bedroom, “If you sleep now, your work will be better quality tomorrow.”

“Why do you even care? Butt out. You don’t get it, time is money.”

“What use is money? You spend it all on drinks, never on things that you can derive true pleasure from, and even if you did so, you’d be too tired to enjoy it?” 

“I do- You- I don’t have the time for this.”

Chapter 2

Chapter 2-6/10 currently only available on AO3. :')

I'll do my best to get the rest on here soon. Chapter 7 & 8 on the way. Thank you very much for reading! Take care <3

[lixenn]

🖤 BLACK HEART  ,  🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER  *&🤔 THINKING FACE , for dave!

Dave is getting all the love 💕✨Thanks for the ask Mimi!!

(Dave: See Chief, I'm the favourite! Everybody adoooores me~

Chief: And I should care about that why? Less whoring for attention and more getting back to work, menace. These budget reports won't write themselves.

Dave, pouting: Chief is such a meanie, a buzzkill, a real butthead.

Chief, staring blankly at the wall: I'm surrounded by children.

Dave, stomping his foot: A Butthead!!)

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

Dave's past is shrouded in darkness and pain, so yes he has killed but only once and he certainly hurt his fair share of people. The streets aren't kind to you, especially when you are a colourful troublemaker who can't keep his nose out of other people's business.

He has broken a couple hearts because Dave likes sex, he sleeps around but he isn't really interested in a romantic relationship and sometimes he fails at communicating that which leaves behind tears and distress. As for trust: Yes, he breaks that too (Dave just likes wrecking shit apparently lol) in this case it's intentional, because Dave has a past as a conman and even now he tricks people into trusting him so he can get information which he will use for his own gain.

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

Pranking

While this can't really be considered a hobby and more of a lifestyle Dave is a prankster at heart and spends most of his free time (and work time let's be real here) trolling people and is just a general pain in the behind. It started off as call for attention, turned into a coping mechanism and now it's just part of his personality lol.

Drawing

Dave likes to doodle. Be it on boring paperwork, his arms, the desk, nothing is save from Dave's pen. When he finds time he will even get out the watercolours and paint. He mostly does landscapes but sometimes he dips into portraits when someone captures his attention. He actually painted Vlasta several times when they were in full scary make up because he finds the general vibe of their look super cool. (He loves it especially when it's colourful).

People watching and gossip

Dave is a people person. He likes being surrounded by them, he likes figuring out how they tick, what makes them laugh, what makes them cry and what would make them break. So, he talks and observes and talks some more. Collecting, categorizing and even hoarding information is another one of Dave's coping mechanisms. But also: he just a damn noisy bastard 🤣

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

You could hold a gun to Dave's head and order him to hold still, he would still wiggle and squirm, because he's incapable of not moving. He talks with his hands, spins his pen, taps his foot. Also, he talks fast and informal, includes slang in his speech.

A smile is a permanent fixture on his face and laughing comes easy to him. He will smile and joke and hide but when he's reallly truly serious his mask drops and people see the cold calculation underneath.

OC details

[paradoxcase]

@longroadstonowhere:

well, speaking for myself, i feel i would definitely have a phantom limb feeling if i switched to never wearing glasses again (i dont wear contacts so i don’t have great proof for this, but i have worn prescription snorkeling goggles that let me see but didn’t sit on my nose the same way as glasses and so created that sensation)

Hmm, I guess it may vary from person to person, then, or possibly vary depending on whether you've ever worn contacts. The first time I switched to contacts was over 20 years ago so I no longer remember what it was like the first time. I'm guessing contacts may not actually exist in the Nine Houses

@racefortheironthrone:

Regarding the tech issue - it's not just what they know, but also what's available and what they can afford. Nona/Pyrrha/CamPal are pretty strapped for cash because BOE doesn't give them very much, and the New Rho economy is doing very badly (food and other necessities are expensive and not always available, which suggests supply issues; likewise, the instability of employment and the lack of public services suggests that there are also problems with demand as well).

So there may well be more advanced tech than Cam's casette recorder, but it might not be available in New Rho markets or at prices that they can afford for non-essential items.

I mean, it kind of depends on why there are food shortages. Food shortages could just be the result of war rationing - they said that you could technically acquire poor-quality meat via the black market, which indicates to me that it is available, it's just not allowed to be sold right now, probably due to rationing. Other things than food might be rationed, but I don't think our phones at least are made of things that would likely be rationed in that context, but who knows what kinds of devices they have after 10,000 years, or even what the prices of those things would be. Things that would be considered incredibly high tech much less than even 1000 years ago are now dirt cheap and no one has to worry about being able to afford them (ballpoint pens, for example). After 10,000 years I would expect even more stuff like that

You can technically, right now, still buy cassette tape recorders for relatively cheap, but I have wonder how true that would still be if Earth was destroyed and all of the companies that are still producing cassette tape stuff were destroyed along with it - there's an incentive for companies that have always sold cassette tape stuff to continue doing that, but is there an incentive for brand new companies to start manufacturing and selling cassette tape stuff? It seems like a lot of older technology might get left behind permanently if something like that happened. Also, like, currently a cassette tape recorder is not in fact considered a low cost alternative to using a phone to record something even though it's technically cheaper than a phone, a) because of the general difficulty in getting and maintaining something that can play cassette tapes, and b) because smartphones are a basic necessity now in most places and you need one anyway, and they are all able to record video, so I think you probably wouldn't save money anyway

@eye-lantern:

Gideon did fight and kill heralds. She also lost a thumb. And got her intestins ripped out. And her skull smashed. And died at least 3 times. While in an unfamiliar body but also a body who's tendons could rip and recover in the same movement, and did not need to breath. Hect could kill one or two. But as much as she is a beast she would die.

That's true, but it seems like Palamedes and Camilla may have achieved Lyctorhood in the same way G1deon and Pyrrha did, and thus they would have the same advantages that Gideon had

@wellhappybirthdaytomeiguess:

I think part of the issue with the ‘tightness’ Nona mentions is that she is walking miles a day AND Cam has her always working out.

Ahh, if that's the case that makes sense

[lymphomalass]

I often hear people saying that when they make new contacts on social media, they like to feel they know a bit about them. So for all my followers, long-standing and new, here are a few things you may or not know about me.

I sold my first painting in 2019, and since then my work has featured in Artists’ and Illustrators’ Magazine Lockdown Gallery three times and in Paint & Create Magazine seven times, as well as being exhibited across the North West and in North Wales. In 2021, I was a winner in the Ricefield Arts' “Express Yourself” competition.

In 2024 I won the Royal Society of Marine Artists Daler-Rowney Prize in their “Afloat or Ashore” exhibition. Over the last couple of months, this has led to my work being covered by the Northwich Guardian, Welsh Country Living Magazine, the Herald in Wales, Cheshire Life magazine, and in the Welsh-medium press in Bro360Môn, Cylchgrawn Dysgu Cymraeg Gogledd Orllewin and GOLWG (Wales's largest circulation magazine).

I’m learning Welsh out of respect for the people of Ynys Môn/Anglesey where I have deep childhood roots. I’ve also been developing illustrations to help myself and other Welsh language learners. But the 30-minute interview in Welsh with the Arts Correspondent of GOLWG was hard work after just two and a half years learning the language and almost as scary as having about 15 minutes of fame speaking Welsh on the national Welsh language TV channel S4C after about a year learning.

My pen (or should I say brush) name as an artist,  “LymphomaLass”, comes from the thing that freed me up to start creating my art full time – Hodgkin’s lymphoma, the blood cancer I was working very hard at to surviving nine years ago. Without this cancer, I’d have just kept working as an accountant, specialising in getting VAT back for charities and public services, managing finance systems and treasury functions, producing financial statements, etc.

I permanently lost about 80% of my immune system (the bit that fights bacterial infections, like food-borne infections and many respiratory infections) so I need to take penicillin twice a day (with three hours fasting from everything except water) for the rest of my life. I got five broken vertebrae from the chemotherapy, but with the help of a lot of training I’m back walking up fells again now. I also had another incredibly rare tumour type at about the same time, which thanks to one-in-a-billion luck turned out to be benign and not a recurrence of the Hodgkin’s.

I was obscenely fortunate - I survived! So what I want to express in my art is my sense of wonder at that and my delight in the beauty I see around me, as well as some of the joy I find in nostalgia and memories of happy times. But while keeping upbeat, I also want to be real about life, out of respect for the friends who are no longer with us. So I create representational art – art that depicts things that are real. When I paint a portrait I want to catch something of the glimmer in the persons eye and for landscapes or sailboats, something of the atmosphere of the place or mood onboard.

I want as many people as possible to be able to have the special people, places, pets, plants and possessions they love on their walls, featured in art that’s full of calm and joy, promoting their wellbeing. So I paint in standard sizes for which it’s possible to buy “off the shelf” frames at a lower cost, and I keep my prices as low as I can (£95 for an A4 painting, if direct from me rather than at an exhibition).

I also sell via a print-to-order eco-friendly portal

where less ends up in landfill because nothing’s printed before someone wants it. And if people love my art and only want to buy a sticker, pin badge, mug, etc, they can buy just that, without me ever knowing, if that’s what they want!

I think I’m fairly determined and maybe do things others wouldn’t, sometimes with wonderful consequence!. All the same that’s a double-edged sword as the things I experience in life do sometimes give me a bit too much stress - so I’ve just had to have 24 hours with a blood pressure cuff round my arm!

I went to school at Millfield (a boarding school that had a bit of a reputation for sport) where I was captain of Tae Kwon Do while the only girl on the squad, and the sole female on the Judo team too. I think my education gave me confidence and that helped Steve and I marry at the Pantheon in Rome, because I had the cheek to ask. My enduring love for the sights, sounds and smells of Ynys Môn, the one place in the world I feel I can really relax, and what I learned doing martial arts at Millfield, helped me as I strove to survive blood cancer, to walk again and to find a new path: pursuing and trying to capture beauty, I hope, painting a little bit of my love into each piece of art.  

Thanks!

Sam aka LymphomaLass xx

[monocytogenes]

Hi fam! For DA Pravin: 🐉 DRAGON, 🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN, 🤍 WHITE HEART. For SWTOR Pravin: 💜 PURPLE HEART, 😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES, 🍃 LEAVES FLUTTERING IN WIND

Pravin Talavera

🐉 what is your oc’s favorite mythical creature?

Probably something that isn't too monstrous or akin to darkspawn, lol, since he's all NOPE about that sort of thing. I imagine there's some fun mythological creatures in Antivan culture, often related to wild and weird stuff sailors witness out at sea--Pravin would be fond of sirens or mermaids, given the combination of sexiness and danger and the absolute numbers they would do in songs, poetry and theatrical works.

🖊️ does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos?

(IS METRION OFFERING LOL)

I imagine tattoos are not really a thing in Orlesian culture--they're viewed as either primitive or potentially criminal, given associations with the Dalish and transient types like sailors. Matters are a bit different in Antiva, where you have some cultural cross-pollination from Rivain, but they still tend to be associated with particular professions like the Crows, who have their own sets of designs and associated meanings. They're much less common among the nobility on the whole due to their conscious imitation of Orlesian norms.

So no, Pravin doesn't have any tattoos. I'm sure he's painted them on from time to time when playing certain Antivan and Riviani characters, but he finds the notion of having actual tats kind of low class and demonstrably foreign in his adopted homeland. As an actor and bard, he values adaptability in his appearance besides; putting something permanent and identifying on his skin rather stands in the way of that intention.

🤍 what are three of your oc’s neutral/questionable traits?

(1) His paranoia. It's a natural consequence of his trauma, and one that's unquestionably rewarding in his illicit line of work--much of why he's such a talented bard, apart from his impressive ability to intuit people's feelings and desires and lie accordingly, is his anxiety-driven compulsion to really think through potential contingencies and plan around them. He's always double-checking locks, sitting with his back to a wall, disclosing just enough in conversations to keep the powerful from exercising too much leverage over him. He's got blackmail atop blackmail in the hands of various friends, ready to be whispered into the right ears should someone consider taking him out. He holds people at arms' length in the most pleasant way possible until they prove themselves reliable, and even then, there's few individuals he's truly willing to trust.

The flipside of this is that it not infrequently hampers his intimate relationships. He can be too harsh and protective in his assessments--as with Thalia, whose apparent dearth of self-preservation instincts freaks him out--and too unwilling to voice his true thoughts and feelings when that means putting himself in a vulnerable position. He's loath to admit when he's in pain, hesitant to confess his more unpalatable impulses, and uses sex as a coping mechanism because Maker forbid he submit to the ordeal of being known. It's very much a "in loving you, I show you exactly where to cut me" sort of thing--sometimes one just has to take the risk to enjoy the benefits, and striking that balance is difficult for him.

(2) His judginess with respect to his art. He holds himself to high standards, and he's benefited from that drive--while the Orlesian theater community was warm and welcoming to him from the get-go, actually making it to roles like those he played at the Grande Royeaux required copious technical skill and deep cultural understanding, something he needed to cultivate through intent observation and days upon weeks of practice. The fact that he was able to impress Orlais' most discerning audiences has really been the pride of his life.

It did, however, also make him more intolerant of divergent takes and beginners' stumbles than he probably should be. He reminds himself that he, too, was an amateur once, and can largely keep himself in check when actual ignorance is involved, but Maker, there's some interpretations of roles by players who Ought to Know Better that he'll get super bitchy about. (Gaubert likes to give him a hard time when he's really taking personal offense to a performance as an insult to the craft. Like, settle down, just pass over it in silence…)

(3) His attitude towards sexuality. He's good about it on several counts--highly giving, conscious of consent, excellent at communication throughout, accepting of different sexualities and preferences while forward about his own. He gets his pleasure largely through satisfying his partners, and really frames his encounters around that.

He does, however, use sex as a tool, both in the service of bard work and to generally ignore his own troubles. While he's honest about his attraction--he won't sleep with people he finds physically repulsive--he has lied about his ultimate intentions and feigned attachment to get information or access to a space. He knows leading someone on isn't kind, but he'll nevertheless do it if it'll help him complete a job. Apart from that, as previously mentioned, he'll focus on getting a partner off so he doesn't have to think over his own messy feelings or discuss stuff he's going through--it's a high as much as anything chemical, a bandage to slap over wounds that really need suturing, just so he can avoid looking at them for a bit. (Really, is he even bleeding if he can't see it?)

Pravin Winscliff II

💜 what is your oc’s ancestry/genetic background?

So! In the Empire you've got a few basic ancestral groups: people who can (or claim they can) trace their ancestry back to the oldest families (sith and immigrant Jedi), human families who were enslaved/vassals of the above before the Great Hyperspace War, humans from territories conquered after the Great Hyperspace War, and aliens of whatever type. The dominant narrative of course is that the foremost are the most genetically ideal and have the most natural aptitude with the Force, and things get worse down from there due to greater outbreeding or straight up being an inferior species. While it is true that Force sensitivity tends to run in families, there are also plenty of bloodlines that have picked up rare diseases through inbreeding (this is a substantial part of why genetic engineering technology is so advanced in the Empire), as well as far more examples of aliens with astonishing Force ability than the powers-that-be are comfortable with.

Pravin's from a postwar human family, probably originating in the Outer Rim; their story is essentially an Imperial version of the American dream--they immigrated to Dromund Kaas and came up from service work, taking advantage of all that free public education to break into the upper echelons of industry. Pravin's great-grandfather co-founded a defense contracting company; most of his immediate relatives either work in that, the military, or some branch of the civil service. His name carries a certain amount of recognition--they don't really have branded products, but the average Imperial citizen's aware of it the way one might be aware of, say, General Dynamics or Northrop Grumman--and it certainly gave him access to elite spaces below the Force-sensitive glass ceiling, albeit not without some nominal snobbery from the "old money" folks from time to time. (I highkey have a headcanon that he went to boarding school with Quinn, child of a venerable old prewar military lineage, and that Quinn's Downton Abbey-esque relatives definitely talked some shit about Those Winscliff Upstarts who are only three generations removed from poverty. Like you do.)

I'll note too that Pravin's looks alone don't carry any real class character to Kaasian eyes. People note traits common to particular family lines in a "this person looks like their parent" sort of way, but there's such diversity among human immigrants that species means far more than skin tone or hair texture in their racial calculus. (Interestingly, Pravin does have a verrrry small amount of sith ancestry in his genes--like 5%--but it's not enough to alter his looks beyond a human baseline, and is frankly common among any human family that's spent more than a few generations marrying in Imperial space.)

😊 what are your oc’s career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life?

He wanted to be an actor once, in a different life. It's a 'what if' that haunts him sometimes, when he's shaking off the nightmares and struggling with the pain of withdrawal--what if he'd been brave enough to defy his parents and follow that dream? What if his greatest worries had been confined to auditions and performances, if he'd never set foot on Hutta or Jadus' dreadnought, never had to fight his way out of his own head?

(Maybe the agent in his place would've activated the Eradicators. Maybe he would've been a victim himself, incinerated on Kaas. Maybe, in some horrible, cosmic way, it needed to be him in that place, at that moment.)

He chose to be an agent because it seemed thrilling and adventuresome and it was, despite everything. He's felt regrets about it, but more over what was done to him than anything he did; he stumbled here and there, but made the right choices when it mattered.

All that said, he isn't totally sure what he wants now. He's the dog who caught the car, in a way, with his freedom in hand but no clear plan on what to do with it beyond his slow revenge against the remaining members of the Cabal. Prior to the events of All the Times We've Said Goodbye, he's more or less been a spy-for-hire doing his damnedest to avoid attaching himself to any particular causes and ignoring the fact that it doesn't mean anything to him beyond the satisfaction of a job well done. The work is steady, and it pays for his ship and his drugs and his dates with one-night stands, and he should be grateful to not have to answer to any authority beyond customs officers and ATC, but…it's hollow. Despite himself, he misses the stakes of his old life, the accomplishments that saved lives, the deep trust relationships he nurtured.

Despite himself, he misses being in love.

It's hard for him to admit any of that, to even conceptualize it, but he gets around to voicing his feelings to Shara at least. He wants her, however she'll have him, and I imagine they get together despite the difficult logistics, which gives his life a bit more purpose. He ends up getting dragged slowly, somewhat kicking-and-screaming back into intelligence work too. :)

🍃 what is/was your oc’s favorite subject in school?

He liked the extracurriculars more than the classes--he was a theater kid and also did fencing, getting good enough to actually win some regional competitions! (It helped that those were both very sexy endeavors that got him a lot of tail as well, lol.)

In terms of actual courses, I imagine he was always inclined towards the social sciences; he ultimately wound up with a polisci degree at university after his parents forbade him from majoring in performing arts. He finds policy stuff particularly interesting; I have a recurring headcanon that he'll often watch the Republic equivalent of C-SPAN in his downtime because he thinks senators going at it over legislation is both hilarious and fascinating--there is, after all, no equivalent to that for the Dark Council.