#Application of Dart Manipulation

[dkettchen]

(After several weeks of pants agony that is still not quite over) I think I've finally cracked the code so

have an illustrated darts/fullness/etc pattern drafting master post!

(incl. how to take in women's tops for flat(ter) chests! among many other applications)

If you're interested in dart manipulation specifically, do also check out TheClosetHistorian's video on it! She shows how the pattern makes the shape using paper, and shows more places darts can go on a bodice.

[dandylion240]

Raelyn swept through the front door calling out “hey anybody home?” Without waiting for a response she opened the door leading into the couples bedroom. Finding that empty she walked though the kitchen. Once she was in there she could hear the soft babble of voices coming from the dining room.

“Why didn’t you answer me” she demanded startling both young men.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking” Jayden scowled up at her. “We could have been….”

“Could have been what” she challenged “indisposed?” Her eyes caught Evan’s smiling, she went to him. Throwing her arms around him “you’re such a cutie. Pregnancy becomes you.”

“I’m not even showing yet” he spluttered trying to get her hands away from his stomach. His clothes were just beginning to feel a little tight nothing compared to what it would be.

“You are” she insisted “and it’s cute.”

“Rae what do you want” Jayden’s no nonsense voice had her bestowing a scowl upon him again.

Ignoring him, her hand shot out before either of them could stop her. She grabbed one of the applications from the largest pile. “Are these the applicants? Can I look?”

“No” he grabbed the file from her hands.

“I want to help” she cried making a lunge for the file.

While they were busy arguing, Evan scooped up the remaining files and left the room.

“Why won’t you let me help” she demanded struggling to get past Jayden and follow Evan. With a wicked gleam she moved to bite him.

“Hey” he released his grasp around her wrist “you know why. You’re not supposed to see those files. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“What’s fair about a bunch of strangers seeing my picture when I can’t see theirs.” She flung herself into Evan’s vacated chair with a dramatic sigh.

“I thought you trusted me” he resumed his seat managing to keep the hurt he felt to himself.

“I do trust you” she rubbed at her wrist “it’s just you tried to set me up with Jasper.” She knew it was wrong the moment she said it. Jayden's jaw clenched and pain etched his face. “Sorry” she murmured even though it had been her intent to hurt him in order to get what she wanted.

“Why are you such a bitch?” Evan’s voice had them both turning towards him. “Jasper tricked us all not just Jayden. I’ll thank you not to mention him again or use him to manipulate my fiance.”

“That wasn’t…” she attempted to protest but from the glower Evan was giving her she fell silent.

“You were” crossing his arms he glared at her. “There’s not a day he doesn’t blame himself for what happened. It’s callous of you to bring it up.”

“I said I was sorry” she cried eyes watery as her eyes darted between them. “I just wanted to help. To pick out the ones I want.” Standing stiffly she pushed past Evan “fine I’ll leave.”

“Let her go” Evan tugged on Jayden's arm as tried to intercept his sister. “She needs to learn there are boundaries. Things she shouldn’t say.”

“She did have a point” defeat weighed heavily in the slump of his shoulders “I did mess up with Jasper.”

“Don’t you think that’s what Jasper was hoping for” Evan asked. “He was telling you one thing while doing another. It’s not your fault you fell for his lies.”

“Maybe” Jayden shrugged unconvinced. “All I know is I’m not as good as I thought I was at setting people up. I don’t want to make another mistake.”

“Even if this doesn’t work out it won’t be your fault.” He could see by the expression on Jayden’s face his words were having no affect “I know Raelyn will try and blame you but it won’t be your fault. She’ll be the one choosing the winner.”

“Tell her that” he grunted “how did I allow myself to get talked into this.”

“Come on” Evan shook his head tugging on his arm.

“Where are we going” he asked as Evan dragged him towards the door. “It’s too cold out here.”

“It won’t be in the hot tub” he smirked.

“I thought you couldn’t go in there until after the baby” Jayden said “let’s go back inside.”

“I’ll be alright for a little while if the water isn’t too hot” he assured him tugging his shirt over his head before reaching for Jayden’s shirt.

“Aren’t you worried someone will see us” Jayden asked resisting the urge to just tear his clothes off.

“Isn’t that why we have this wall?" Evan winked as he let his pants fall around his ankles. “Who cares if anyone sees us? This is our house. We can do whatever we want.”

Watching Evan climb into the tub Jayden hastily unbuckled his jeans and stepped out of them. Joining Evan he put an arm around his shoulders “you know what this reminds me of?”

Seeing the twinkle in his eyes Evan nodded “if you’re thinking about our first time then yeah I do.”

“We put my parent’s hot tub to good use that night” he gasped as Evan moved to stradle his legs.

“If I remember right” he bent down giving Jayden a kiss “you did something like this.” He smirked into his fiance’s eyes that were clouding with desire.

“Except I was the one on top” he pointed out with a husky voice.

“You want to switch? Evan asked, grinding against him.

“No” he moaned “this is fine.”

Smirking “I knew I could get you to relax.”

“Right now I couldn’t even tell you my name” their mouths met in an eager kiss.

A figure moved back and forth inside the rustic deer stand. Wind ruffled his dark hair. His warm breath misting the lens of the binoculars he pressed to his eyes. His knuckles whitened as he watched the two lovers enjoying themselves in the hot tub. Humming a tune the couple would both recognize as All I Want For Christmas.

Snarling, with a vicious flip of his wrist the binoculars clattered to the far wall. Leaning against the old wood he shuddered as images of the last time he’d been there. What was supposed to be a male bonding experience with his old man turned nightmare. The old man was mean on a good day. That day wasn’t a good day. He still carried the scars on his body.

Shaking his head he pushed away from the wall. Maybe he’d bring him here. Make him watch while he punished his lover. A malicious grin spread across his face as a better idea came to him. He’d come back alright. He’d drown that blond rat in his own hut tub for daring to take what was his. It didn’t matter to him that it was him who had done the taking. He wasn’t finished yet. Hadn’t gotten what he wanted....yet.

Glaring in the direction of the two young lovers he groaned like a wounded animal. He should’ve taken what he wanted when he had the chance. It would have been a hollow victory though. He wanted his prey to give himself to him willingly and “he refused me.” His voice loud in the small confines of the old deer stand.

Picking up the shattered binoculars he was able to make out the two lovers, their bodies entwined in the hot tub. A silent scream passed his lips as his fist smashed into the wall. The wood splintered under the assault, battering his hand as he left behind a fair amount of skin and blood. Heedless to the pain he plotted his revenge humming the tune to All I Want for Christmas is You.

“We should at least pick up our clothes” Evan protested as Jayden hurried him from the hot tub to the door.

“Don’t worry I’ll get them” Jaydens said, stopping to give him a kiss at the door. “Go inside and start a fire. I’ll join you in a minute.”

“Alright” Evan pulled him close “don’t be too long.”

Turning, Jayden squinted into the growing darkness, as a flash of light hit him in the eyes. It seemed odd for to be coming from the woods. Frowning he walked towards the gate intent on finding whatever had made it. Stopping, he shook his head laughing at himself as he realized he wouldn't get far without any clothes on. “Probably some bird watcher” he muttered retracing his steps to gather their discarded clothing.

Stopping at the door he glanced back towards the woods a nagging worry at the back of his mind. “Could someone have been watching them?" That didn't make anymore sense than bird watchers at this time of day.

“What did you say” Evan asked closing the refrigerator door.

“Nothing” he grinned upon seeing Evan holding a wine cooler and a mineral water in either hand.

“I thought you might want something to drink” he explained setting the bottles on the counter. “Brrr your cold” he shivered as Jayden pressed his body into his.

“Warm me up” he purred nibbling on Evan’s ear.

Previous/Next

[thineowncreation]

Draping Final Project - Fall 2024

The first time I ripped a piece of muslin for draping, I had no idea what I was getting into. The corners were supposed to be right angles, and I was supposed to know where to tug and pull the fabric to manipulate those angles into place. I remember tugging and pulling at that fabric for what felt like ages, lining it up with a square ruler, and tugging and pulling the faulty corners some more. I remember thinking to myself, “this is the first step. If I can’t get the first step right, then what am I doing?”

Over the course of the semester, I continued having problems with manipulating the muslin just so to produce right angles, darts, smooth shapes, perfect drapes, etc. To this day, I don’t think I could claim that I have an easy time with draping. That being said — I did feel like my projects overall fit better than they did with drafting, and I enjoyed the process of molding a shape through various folds and clips and pinches.

For our final project, we needed to drape a suit jacket. I chose the basic shawl jacket design, which includes a collar within the design, and got to work. I very specifically wanted a rectangular shape out of my design, and I think I achieved it pretty well!! Let me take you through the process.

Step one: Draping

The main two parts of this design that I really struggled draping were the collar and sleeve. I needed a lot of help from my instructor to add more length to the sleeve, to shift it around a bit, etc. The first sleeve I made pitched forward quite a bit — we had to pull it off and do several adjustments to give it a better hang value. Even by the end of the finished product, I wanted to shift things around more. The collar wasn’t as much of a struggle, but I did have problems figuring out how the shoulder/collar combo needed to be draped in order to work.

Step Two: Drafting

Drafting is the easiest step for me — the process of transferring the muslin information to the paper. Over the course of the semester I noticed I had a pattern of not bringing the neck point down low enough, but I didn’t need to worry too much about that with the jacket. The hardest thing to transfer accurately to paper was the fish-eye chest dart, but with a tracing wheel I was able to get it placed well. I also did not do a great job of marking my center front on my muslin in the first place, so figuring out where that went was a bit of a pain, though I figured it out in the end. From there I needed to draft facing and interfacing pieces.

Step Three: Sewing the Final Project

Luckily, this is not the first jacket I've ever sewn, so the sewing was not terribly difficult for me. The only part I really messed up on was understitching the entire collar -- well, that stitching ended up on top instead of on bottom.

I also wish I had ironed the entire thing a bit better, but overall I really like the fit, the flow, and the angled side dart! I think the silhouette turned out exactly how it did in my head, and for that I’m pretty glad.

I learned a lot over the course of this semester, and while draping still may not be my favorite — I’m excited to see what applications I find it most useful for.

[mentalpoets4poets]

Am I too young and naïve to live the life I so desire? Just because when you look in my direction what’s overheard are jokes followed by laughter and smiles. Assumptions accumulate that I haven’t lived a troubling or stressful life. I’m way too reserved, so I’m continuously lied to and manipulated into a twisted trivia that triggers the mind. So I find peace and purpose through the readings of Myles Munroe, ‘Understanding the Purpose and Power of Prayer’. The passion he has for what he believes throws darts in my direction when he says, in James 1:23 “the true believer is a doer of the Word and not a hearer.” Following the text he says “the only way God promises will become a reality in your life is for you to act on them- and you can’t act on them without faith. Yet it won’t become a manifested reality in our life until we believe it’s real before we see it.” Therefore, I’m prepared to climb out of this stagnated solitude. As what I find applicable will stimulate my mind in every aspect of life.

Sojourn Sevilla-Banks also commonly known as PsychoticPoet

[dustedmagazine]

Pat Thomas —كنز القلب [KANZA AL QALB] (scatterArchive)

Pat Thomas has been a strong presence on the English and European improvisational scene since the 1990s. His contributions as pianist and co-conceptualist in the quartet  أح��د  [Ahmed] have elevated his profile a bit, but that’s certainly not the sum of his work. He also plays electric keyboards and electronic devices, both solo and in ensembles, and his improvisational methods find freedom where others might perceive roadblocks; for examply, he has a long-running partnership with Orphy Robinson that honors their shared roots by pointedly incorporating Caribbean styles into free improvisations.  

القلب [KANZA AL QALB] is the fifth in a series of Thomas solo releases on Scatter Archives, a Scottish label whose pay what you wish, download-only catalog is quite a trove. This music on this album, like its predecessors, is completely electronic, initially performed on an iPad loaded with the software sampler Kontakt and subsequently warped using IRCAM’s Time Stretch application. Its title serves to underscore a point made clear in the interviews that Thomas has given on the occasion of أحمد  [Ahmed]’s two recent releases, Wood Blues and Giant Beauty;that Islam and mystic awareness are at the heart of Thomas’ creative practice. القلب [KANZA AL QALB] translates as Treasure of the Heart, foregrounding the belief that the heart holds knowledge that the intellect can’t grasp. It seems significant to apply such a statement to music made entirely by electronic means, just as it’s important to note that a lazy listener might mistake it القلب [KANZA AL QALB] for a record of inscrutably organized percussion and strings. The point, one supposes, is that what you see and what you’re told aren’t as important as what you deeply feel and what you do.

In this case, Thomas is manipulating the sounds of bells, cymbals, and other metallic objects which he has extracted from easily obtainable freeware. Hacks use this stuff to make ignorable soundtracks every day, but Thomas obtains from it something genuinely strange. Frequency-tweaked, digitally melted, temporally disrupted, and carefully collaged, the closer you listen to them, the further they retreat from familiarity. Sounds flicker and melt (“REFLECT”), dart and drip (“QALBC”), or smack messily back and forth across the stereo spectrum like deafened, caffeinated, flak-jacket-clad bats careening through HVAC vents (“REFLECT 2”). Mystery, this music demonstrates, is close at hand and completely procurable through ordinary means.

Bill Meyer

[nonooddo]

It’s a Family Business - …!

As ANOTHER delay in the voting on the ‘hideous development’ is approved by Olathe (for Oddo’s benefit - so he can try to get a winning vote by manipulating the Council Member numbers), now apparently moved to May 7, you just can not help getting the feeling that there is something rotten in Olathe …

Review of the Planning Commission March 2024

More than one voting, tax-paying, law abiding homeowner noticed that smell. It was the smell of fish. An odd thing to smell at the March 11 Planning Commission meeting. But there it was.

Before the meeting even started the Olathe Planning Department’s fishy chaos was fully olfactorable: the fix was in, as it were. The agenda announced that Planning Staff were backing the Oddo “town Center”…. a WHAT? The smell wafted across the room as the planners presented their incoherent jumble of fish-taco-word-salad.

sure does

But before even the rotten presentations - much more was causing a stink. Lets me explain - using a game… What’s is this? - ‘Ok, you’re on ‘the list’” - “well who are you speaking for?” - “Are you for or against the development?” “Do you intent to make a presentation?” “The deadline for presentations in tomorrow” “The deadline for presentations has passed” “The deadline for presentations is Saturday, it’s Sunday, it was Friday…” If you answered ‘what happens when I call or email with my intention to speak in the public session of the Olathe Planning Commission’, you were right… Multiple homeowners reported that they were met by a number of such responses, put through 20-questions and/or fed contradictory instructions. Not very welcoming to the public.

Talking about ‘the public’ what about the ‘requirement’ of providing comprehensive introductions…?! Anyone objecting had to provide full personal details. Developers didn’t. No one else did - for them it was all corporate offices and company anonymity. There was that feeling again; the entire process belonged to the developer - NOT to the public. Perhaps that’s just how Olathe thinks it has to be - but we know first hand that aggressive developer-HOA owners like to know who’s ’getting out of line’ … and developers making lists is ominous.

Also we are all aware that there is a modern day air of menace - even here in Kansas - that there never used be. A menace that stalks those who exercise their right to petition government. It’s uncomfortable - to say the least.

So already some people were put off. We KNOW that because they told us. People who don’t want to be on lists - even a list run by the haphazard chaotic planners in the Olathe City planning department. (Perhaps particularly them - given the potential for juveniles to be vindictive!). People want to stay off the radar of those who’s names are only repeated after heads dip and faces dart back and forth - checking out the room - ‘him… well here’s what I know about him…’

For sure there are certain types in this world who culture an air of ‘don’t get in my way’ and most of us civilians would rather just oblige. Fair enough in a rough and tumble world. But only so long as you can count on such people NOT also controlling the levers of the state or its many layers of bureaucracy… that prompts thoughts of true discomfort.

What next seemed to have more than just the tang of the fishmonger…! The Applicant - (i.e. Oddo’s Gang) was granted as long as it liked to speak - as many ‘professional’ voices as they wanted, (no opportunity for the public to challenge them or ask them any questions, of course! In fact the Commission Chairman made it clear from the start ‘DONT ASK ANY QUESTIONS, JUST DON’T…’. And if you were in any doubt about his seriousness - there were armed police all around the room..! Yes in Olathe, not Nicaragua, Nigeria or a Nazi client state last century, Olathe…! )

Any one else feeling chilly yet?

But then there was time. Time itself. An abundant resource when developers speak - was as precious and limited as our diminishing rights when it came to the objectors turn to speak. The Preserve Our Neighborhood group paid to have a planning-expert lawyer present - and guess what, he was the Only professional treated like a schoolchild by the Planning Commission.

He patiently and respectfully sat and waited ‘his turn’ to speak… for 5 - Big Clock timed - minutes. Despite repeated advance requests and even appeals to the City Attorney and the Commission to be afforded a usual professional courtesy of a full 15 minutes. No. Not for him was there to be any ‘home-field advantage’ of the kind the developer’s lawyer enjoyed. Developer Esq. had no clock on his words - he could joke and banter; thank everyone on the Commission; “oh and Staff, and my agent, and my producers and my long suffering wife….” (We began to wish it were an Oscar speech - at least the music might have welled up and spared us…! ) Then the Oddogineer, the Oddarcitect, the entire circus… all were given untimed talk time. Who needed to keep track anyway - these guys were great entertainers (with all their tall tails about how no one can count (stories or feet) and how anything is ‘Green’ because they say it is…! What a hoot they were…

No, the lowest of the low in Olathe City Hall is being a voting, tax-paying, law abiding homeowner participant exercising his or her right to petition government. (It’s funny how that phrase ‘the right to petition’ - implies it might not be just being granted a favor by a Planning Commission Chair… it’s almost like we had some - well… right! To be there…)

Being lowest on the totem poll also meant we had to stay in line. Literally and figuratively. And the order of that line also generated a distinct odor of sushi … While speaker after speaker opposed Oddo - the surprise what how it all ended. The shock of the evening was the two ‘Turkeys for Christmas’. A married couple who both said, literally, ‘no one wants to lose their freedom - but let’s speak nicely to our kidnappers and “not spit in their eye”. After all - we are going to be spending a lot of time together. And they are the boss!’ I’m pretty sure that was the speech. (I could be wrong as I was vomiting into an airline sick bag during their particular 5 minuteses)! One really has to wonder if Ricardo Oddometer himself is holding that couple’s prized Maltese in an Oddo Developments secret location. Perhaps an unrentable apartment unit - sorry, ‘luxury apartment unit’ - somewhere in Darkest Leawood…?

So right to the end - as a bunch of HOA-controlling developers all got to speak after the actual HOA membership and then Cedar Creek’s own Stockholm-syndrome couple were afforded a helpful dead-last-but-one and dead-last place on the speaker roster - the fishy smell of things did not go away.

The entire sorry, sad, statist and stage-managed kabuki left a terrible taste. You know what I mean if you’ve ever eaten a dead fish raw of the beach. You haven’t? Are you sure? Well let me tell you - you haven’t missed anything - especially not if you were there to object to Oddo on March 11. You got the taste - and it was spot on…!

Shame on Olathe, Kansas…! Shame.

They misspelled the last bit…!

[codibex]

UI/UX and Prototyping Services: Revolutionizing Digital Platforms

In today's digitally driven world, the amalgamation of UI (User Interface), UX (User Experience), and efficient Prototyping Services has become pivotal for businesses aiming to create a lasting impact on their audience. Let's delve deeper into these crucial services and their significant contributions to the digital landscape.

The Importance of Professional Website Development Services

Establishing an online presence is no longer an option but a necessity. Professional website development services play a pivotal role in crafting a user-friendly interface, ensuring seamless navigation, and presenting captivating visuals that resonate with the target audience.

E-commerce websites, specifically, require meticulous planning and development to offer secure and enjoyable shopping experiences, ultimately driving sales and customer satisfaction.

Rapid Prototyping: Enhancing Product Development

Rapid prototyping accelerates the product development cycle by creating quick models or prototypes that depict the envisioned product. Its applications span various industries, fostering innovation and agility in the development process while saving time and resources.

User Experience Design: A Crucial Element

User experience design focuses on enhancing user satisfaction by improving the usability, accessibility, and overall interaction between the user and the product. It involves understanding user behaviors, preferences, and pain points to create seamless and intuitive experiences.

HTML & CSS Web Development: Foundation of Web Design

HTML (Hypertext Markup Language) and CSS (Cascading Style Sheets) form the backbone of web development. They provide structure, layout, and design to web pages, significantly impacting the user interface and experience.

AWS Web Development Services: Leveraging Cloud Technology

Amazon Web Services (AWS) offers a robust platform for web development, providing scalable and secure solutions. Leveraging cloud technology allows businesses to streamline operations, reduce infrastructure costs, and enhance overall performance.

Mobile App Development Services

The evolution of mobile technology has led to a surge in demand for mobile app development services. Android and iOS app development cater to diverse user preferences, with trends emphasizing personalization, AR/VR integration, and seamless navigation.

UI/UX Services for Cross-Platform Development

Cross-platform app development frameworks like Flutter, Dart, and React Native facilitate the creation of applications compatible with multiple operating systems. These frameworks ensure consistency in user experience across various platforms, reducing development time and costs.

Node JS & Graph QL in Web Development

Node JS, known for its event-driven architecture, empowers developers to build scalable and high-performance applications. Graph QL revolutionizes data querying and manipulation, optimizing communication between client and server.

Amplify Web Development: Scalable Solutions

AWS Amplify simplifies the creation and deployment of scalable web applications. Its features, including authentication, data storage, and serverless functions, offer developers a comprehensive toolkit for building robust applications.

Brand Identity Services: Establishing a Unique Presence

Brand identity services focus on creating a distinctive brand image. Crafting logos, defining brand messaging, and establishing brand guidelines are vital aspects that contribute to a strong and recognizable brand presence.

AWS Web Development Services: Leveraging Cloud Technology

Amazon Web Services (AWS) stands as a prominent choice for web development due to its cloud computing solutions. It offers a comprehensive range of services, including computing power, storage options, and databases, allowing developers to build scalable and reliable web applications. The flexibility and pay-as-you-go pricing model provided by AWS empower businesses to scale resources according to demand, reducing operational costs and increasing efficiency. Additionally, AWS offers a secure infrastructure, ensuring data protection and compliance with industry standards.

Mobile App Development Services: Android and iOS App Development

The realm of mobile app development has witnessed exponential growth, with Android and iOS dominating the market. Android, with its open-source platform, offers versatility and a vast user base, making it an attractive choice for app development. Conversely, iOS, known for its security and seamless user experience, appeals to a more affluent user demographic. As the demand for mobile applications continues to surge, developers focus on creating user-centric, feature-rich apps that cater to specific user needs while adhering to platform-specific guidelines.

Cross-Platform Development: Flutter, Dart, and React Native

Cross-platform development frameworks like Flutter, Dart, and React Native have gained traction for their ability to build applications compatible with multiple operating systems. Flutter, backed by Google, enables developers to create visually appealing and high-performance applications with a single codebase. Dart, the programming language used in Flutter, emphasizes speed and productivity, facilitating the development of feature-rich apps. React Native, developed by Facebook, allows for the creation of native-like applications across platforms, leveraging reusable components and enhancing development efficiency.

Node JS & Graph QL in Web Development

Node.js, built on Chrome's V8 JavaScript engine, has revolutionized server-side scripting. Its event-driven, non-blocking I/O model enables the development of scalable and real-time applications. Node.js empowers developers to handle concurrent connections efficiently, making it suitable for applications requiring high scalability and performance. On the other hand, Graph QL, a query language for APIs, optimizes data fetching by providing a flexible and efficient way to request and manipulate data. It enhances the efficiency of client-server communication, reducing over-fetching and under-fetching of data.

Amplify Web Development: Scalable Solutions

AWS Amplify offers a set of tools and services that simplify the development process of full-stack applications. It facilitates the integration of serverless backend services, including authentication, data storage, and APIs, into web applications. Developers benefit from the ease of deployment and management, allowing them to focus on building innovative features and enhancing the user experience. Amplify's scalable architecture adapts to varying workloads, ensuring a seamless user experience even during peak traffic periods.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the landscape of UI/UX and development services is dynamic and crucial for businesses aiming to thrive in the digital sphere. The amalgamation of UI, UX, prototyping, and development services ensures enhanced user experiences, streamlined operations, and competitive advantage. Embracing these services is not just a trend but a necessity to stay relevant and successful in the ever-evolving digital landscape.

I understand your request for continued writing. To elaborate further on the topic of UI/UX and development services, here is a deeper exploration of the significance of specific services:

[textilelearner]

Dart Manipulation Techniques for Flat Patterns

Dart Manipulation Techniques for Flat Patterns #darts #dartmanipulation, #typesofdarts #flatpattern #flatpatterns #dartmanipulationtechniques #dartinclothing #dartinsewing #patterndesign #patternmaking

What is Dart in Clothing? Darts are a dressmaker’s punctuation marks. It is an essential part of garment construction. Darts are folds and sewn into fabric to take in ease and provide shape to a garment, especially for a woman’s bust. Darts help in shaping the fabric to fit the body and thus provide comfort to the wearer. They provide fullness to natural body curves. Darts are very rarely used…

[starsinmylean]

Unconditionally and Irrevocably

Pairing - Nate Jacobs x Fem!reader

Summary - You’re suspicious of your boyfriend because he wouldn’t let you use his phone, so, you went through it. You’ve never regretted going through someone’s phone so much.

Warnings - Cursing, arguments, anger issues, manipulation, reader is in a toxic and abusive relationship, mentions of sex and nudity.

“Go the fuck home, change your fucking dress, and stay the fuck away from the stand. You’re not embarrassing me tonight.” Nate tried his hardest to contain his anger, refusing to look at you any longer and storming off towards the chili stand.

You promised Nate’s parents that you were going to help them out with the stand at the fair since Aaron had to do something really really important. Something about college applications or meeting with a requiter; you didn’t really care.

You’d forgotten you were supposed to help the Jacobs while you were going through Nate’s phone, not expecting him to catch you while he was in the shower. While he was driving you home from school, your phone was dead and you grabbed his to call your mom to let her know you were coming home late.

Immediately he snatched the phone from you and told you to just use yours. “What the fuck do I have to use mine for? It’s dead.” your eyebrows furrowed at the fact that he just snatched something from you. He never had a problem with you using his phone before, so why now?

“Fuck.” he said under his breath, reaching over your seat for the glove compartment to see if he left a charger in there but it was empty besides the driving manual. You reached for his phone again, your eyes narrowing into slits as he put it under his left thigh so you wouldn’t be able to reach it.

As soon as you got to his house he said he needed to clean up really quickly before dinner, so you could just watch a movie or something until he was done. He only remembered that he left his phone in the room with you when he was completely inside of the shower, and if he jumped out wet then you would really get mad and he didn’t need you on his ass right now.

Thankfully, your phone didn’t take too long to turn on. You scanned through his messages for a notification but the only one was from Mckay, and you weren’t going to invade Mckay’s privacy, so you scrolled through his instagram dm’s. There, he left everyone except you and his brother on read.

You huffed in annoyance, pausing to think about why he was being so weird about you using his phone earlier, there was nothing on it. As a last measure, you scrolled through his camera roll, maybe you were afraid he’d find a nude of some girl or something?

Then, you thought, ‘what sane person would leave nudes in their recents?’, so, you checked his hidden album. Jackpot. Your jaw dropped when an array of..penises..displayed on the screen; none of which were his. Nate wasn’t too long, not too short, and proportionately thick, and he cleaned up down there. Most of them were way long or way thick, almost all of them weirdly hairy.

You noticed the water in the shower just stopped running, so you exited all of the recent apps at godspeed, darting across the room on your toes to put his phone back on his nightstand. When the bathroom door opened, you had just gotten back across the room, slipping your sneakers on and getting ready to leave the house.

“I thought you were staying for dinner.” Nate’s voice filled the room.

“I used your charger to turn on my phone and my mom said I need to come home because my aunt’s in town.” you lied, picking your jacket up off of his comforter and slipping it on.

You crossed the room to kiss him on the cheek, if you didn’t he would’ve known for sure something was up. “I’ll call you when I get home.” you said as you opened his bedroom door.

“I love you.” he called after you, and you responded accordingly. You couldn’t help but wonder if he really loved you, or if he liked guys more? I mean, why else would you keep nudes in your phone? To jerk off to, obviously. It was so weird. Nate didn’t even watch porn; he could never get aroused from it, and it never interested him.

Instead of calling him when you got home, you called Kat. You both decided on the fact that sexuality was a spectrum, and then she asked you for the third time if you thought you liked girls. You made her swear not to tell anyone, and then you admitted that you found a bunch of dicks in Nate’s phone.

Then you told Cassie, and then she told Mckay, and then Mckay said something about it. Nate was teasing Chris about being with Cassie and how much of a whore she was and Mckay responded with, “At least i’m not gay and can’t admit it.” now this, this made Nate’s heart fall to his ass, and that rarely happened.

He spent hours pacing around his room and brainstorming how the fuck Mckay could even know he was on that stupid site blackmailing Jules. Every possibility, came back to you. You must’ve gone through his phone that day, and you must’ve told fuckin Cassie, and Cassie must’ve told fucking Mckay, and who knows how many people heard in the hallway when Chris said what he said. Jesus fucking Christ.

.

“Just a second.” Nate panted as he continued to stroke himself. It’d been at least thirty seconds of your ass in the air and your cheek pressed against his sheets and he still hadn’t gotten up.

“Are you, like, not hard?” you whispered, lifting your head up to look at your boyfriend.

“Not yet, fuck.”

“It..doesn’t really feel like you’re hard.” you laughed in disbelief.

“I am..I am hard.”

“Nate..this isn’t something you just, lie about.”

“I just got a lot of shit on my mind, okay?”

You waited a few more seconds before responding, wondering if he’d gotten hard but clearly he hadn’t. “Like, right now? During sex?”

He dropped his hand from around himself and glared at the side of your head. “Y/N stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Talking, stop talking. Fuck.” he huffed, pulling up his boxers and pinching the bridge of his nose, storming across his bedroom to sit in his desk chair while you pulled up your panties and scooted to the edge of his bed.

“Why the fuck are we even having sex?”

You looked up at the ceiling to name a few reasons, oh wait..there were none. “Clearly, we weren’t.” you scoffed.

Nate’s nostrils flared at your attitude. “You know what your fucking problem is?” he glared. “You can’t keep your fucking mouth shut.”

“Yeah and you can’t keep your dick hard.” your hand flew out to point to his crotch.

“Maybe the reason I can’t keep my dick hard is because everyone at school is spreading these fucking rumors about me.” you could tell he was getting angrier because his fingers jabbed at the air like an imaginary knife into someone’s gut as he spoke.

“They’re not rumors, they’re facts..you literally had like forty guys’ dicks in your phone.”

“I told you not to fucking tell anyone.”

“Yeah, well, I told people before you told me not to tell anyone.” you shrugged, not seeing the point in having this conversation anymore.

“Yeah, but you told them out of fucking context.” his voice rose.

“Really? What’s the context?”

“I’d tell you but I don’t even fucking trust you anymore.” Nate replied, looking at the floor now.

You don’t trust me? I’m the one that shouldn’t fucking trust you. You’re the one with dicks hidden in your fucking phone. “Kinda like how you fuck me when you’re not hard anymore?”

Nate stood from his chair so fast by the time you registered, his hand was around your throat and his fingers were digging into your cheeks. “Huh? Keep talking.” he yelled. “Keep fuckin talking.” he whispered, lightly slapping your cheek.

Your face burned from how hard his grip was when he pulled away. You couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes and down your cheeks, wiping them with the back of your hands.

“Look, Nate, I don’t mind if you’re into guys.” you exclaimed as his hands cradled the back of his head.

“I’m not into fucking guys, Y/N.”

“Sexuality is a spectrum.

“Fuck, what the fuck are you talking about?” his mind began clouding with confusion. He wasn’t into fucking guys.

“It’s not like anyone is one hundred percent straight or one hundred percent gay.” you tried to reason.

“That is a-hundred percent bullshit.” he stormed into his bathroom and slammed the door shut, running the sink water.

.

Tonight was the fair, and you hadn’t spoken to Nate face to face since that stupid argument about his sexuality. You weren’t going to bail on the Jacobs family because he couldn’t admit whatever the fuck he was into. Plus, your dress was a cute white sundress but Nate felt it was too short. If you bent over, Cal and whoever else would have a perfect view of your panties, and Nate would go insane if he caught someone in the act, but you didn’t care. The dress was completely appropriate, in your eyes.

“Hi Marsha.” you smiled when you got to the stand.

“Hi!” she smiled, relieved that you were here. She handed you an apron with your name on it and reminded you of what you were going to be doing. Cal was going to be keeping the chili hot and continuing to stir it, when someone wanted a cup he’d pour it into the cup and give it to you. You’d put a top on it, and charge the customer.

The entire night Nate burned imaginary holes into the back of your stupid fucking apron; livid at the fact that you had gone against everything he said. When Cal went to the bathroom and Marsha turned her back, Nate yanked you by your arm out of the stand, causing you to drop a chili cup.

“Nate, what the fuck?” you gasped as he practically drug you to the trailers. You tried to wriggle out of his grip but he was far stronger than you. At this point there were probably bruises around your arm from how hard he was dragging you.

“You’re hurting me.” you struggled, trying your hardest not to trip over a rock or something.

“Shut the fuck up.” Nate’s teeth were gritted as he slammed your back against a steel trailer. The wind was knocked out of you, but you couldn’t regain it because his hand was around your throat, tighter than it had ever been before.

The look Nate held in his eyes shook you to your core. Tears pricked at your eyes from the impact and you began to get lightheaded, your nails clawing into his hands. “You don’t fucking listen.” he let go of you and stormed off, yelling, ‘Fuck!’ in the distance.

You dropped to the ground, your hands flying to your throat. It felt like you’d just been underwater with your best-friend competing to see who could hold their breath the longest, and then your friend wrapped their hands around your throat, almost killing you.

You were shocked, and hurt that he would ever put his hands on you in that way, knowing he was way stronger than you and that you probably wouldn’t be able to fight him off.

Even after you caught your breath, you stayed on the ground, staring at your shaking hands. You didn’t know what to think, or how to reassure yourself, or if you should call someone. It must’ve been at least thirty minutes when Nate came back to the trailers, his heart breaking when he saw you on the ground.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, crouching down to your level and hugging you but you hadn’t responded. “I won’t do it again, I promise. I’m just going through a lot of shit right now.” No response. “Please Y/N. Don’t leave me, not now.”

You refused to speak, yet you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, accepting his hug. He lay his head in your chest, crying into your dress and wrapping his arms right around your body. You glowered at the other trailers, a single tear rolling down your cheek.

It wasn’t the violence that scared you. It was the fact that you knew no matter what Nate did, you’d still love him.

Unconditionally, and irrevocably.

Masterlist Main

[yohangaontdj]

Fictober 2021 (Gahan) - Day 8

Prompt No Day 8 - "This is it, isn't it?"

Fanfiction Fandom: The Devil Judge (TVN), Gahan, Lawful Husbands, Kang Yohan x Kim Gaon

Additional Character: Kang Elijah

Warnings: Re-write of the bombing by Yohan in Ep 16. Canon Divergent and alternate happy ending.

(Everything is the same in the bombing incident until Gaon came barging into the courtroom. That's when the re-write of the ending began.)

Yohan grabbed Gaon’s shirt, pushing with all his might to throw the younger man out of the courtroom before the bombs exploded. But Gaon resisted with a strength born out of desperation and before Yohan realised what was happening, he had whipped out a pair of handcuffs, shackling the two of them together.

“Uncuff me at once!” Yohan roared, shaking Gaon like a rag doll. His eyes darted towards the numbers scrolling rapidly on the screen and he caught sight of Park Duman trying to escape while the two of them were distracted. Kicking him hard in the chest, Yohan sent him flying down the stairs before he returned his furious gaze back to Gaon, yelling at the top of his voice.

“Where’s the damn key!”

“There’s no key,” Gaon, in contrast to Yohan, was a sea of calm, “I threw it away before I came in here.”

And Yohan went pale, his heart clenching in fright at what the younger man had done.

“I can’t let you do this,” Yohan tugged frantically at the handcuff, “You should live your life as a hero and not go down with the devil!”

But Gaon grabbed his hand stopping him from hurting himself. The smile that he gave was resolute and determined.

“I’m going with you. And whether we stay or leave this room, it’s all up to you.”

In that moment, Yohan deeply regretted involving Gaon in his life. He shouldn’t have been curious when he first saw his photo and he should have rejected his application, letting him be transferred elsewhere but be in the live court show. What a difference that would have make. And Gaon would have lived a life without manipulation, without becoming entangled in affairs that got nothing to do with him.

But Yohan didn’t and it was too late now to undo all that had been done. All he could hope for was that the plan would still work even though it wasn’t meant for two. For he had no more tricks left to salvage the situation and this was really the end, the final act.

Dragging Gaon back to the spot he had not moved from until the younger man came barging in. Yohan pulled Gaon against him, not caring how it would look before a ‘live’ broadcast. Pressing his lips against Gaon’s ear so that their conversation wouldn’t be picked up by the cameras, Yohan whispered.

“Listen! You got to hold on tight, stay as close as possible. I don’t know if it’ll work for the space’s really small and...” Yohan couldn’t speak, fear robbing him off his voice.

He couldn’t just walk out of here. He would love to for it would put Gaon out of harm’s way but he couldn’t. His fate outside these doors wouldn’t be so kind and jail was definitely on the cards. And what would happen to Elijah then? Even if Gaon could take care of her, she would forever be marked as a criminal’s relative – judged and blamed for crimes that wasn’t of her own doing.

No, he couldn’t do that to her. And so Yohan chose to put Gaon in danger.

“I’m sorry,” Yohan whispered as the countdown rapidly approached that one fatal number. And he raised his hand, bracing himself for what was to come.

“This is it, isn’t it?” Gaon whispered, his right arm wrapped around Yohan’s neck, holding on as tight as he could without strangling the man.

“And there’s nothing to apologise for. It’s been a pleasure, hyung, knowing you and just in case...I love you.”

The smile that broke out was so bright and brilliant but Gaon couldn’t see due to the position he was in. It didn’t matter though for Gaon could feel Yohan’s heart pounding – a thrumming vibration fast and soaring.

And when the fatal number finally flashed non-stop on the huge screen before him, Yohan pressed the detonator, setting off the bombs that had been there all along, embedded in the walls.

The first to go were the ones at the far end where the judges sat as the presided over the trials. They wiped out the cameras located there – a necessity if Yohan’s plan was to be a success. Next to go where the bombs on the left and right, simultaneously going off and wiping out even more cameras that was trained in their direction. And when the ones in the ceiling finally went off, sending rubble and concrete raining down like on everyone, the trapdoor beneath Yohan’s feet finally sprang open, dropping them into the inky darkness below.

-

A week later.

Yohan spluttered out his coffee, aghast at what he had been reading on his new tablet at the dining table.

“Ewww....” Elijah backed her wheelchair away, face scrunched up in disgust, “You really have no table manners.”

Ignoring her, Yohan waved the tablet in the direction of the kitchen, “I can’t believe they’re doing this!”

That caught the interest of Gaon and he sauntered over, hands sliding down Yohan’s chest as he perched his chin on Yohan’s head, reading the article that had startled him so much.

Petition to Make Gahan An Official Memorial Day

Since the death of Kang Yohan and Kim Gaon in the tragic bombing of the Supreme Court, fans and worshippers alike had been mourning their loss, lauding them as Korean’s version of Romeo and Juliet.

And in the latest turn of events, a petition, started by a netizen who didn’t want them to be forgotten, had garnered a million signatures in a day. Dubbed the Gahan Memorial Day (though the couple had other names, depending on the fanbase), the petition is demanding for the Blue House to make the death anniversary of Kang Yohan and Kim Gaon an official memorial day.

Attempts had been made to contact the Blue House for their comments but was met with silence instead. So until there is any further development, it is now but a waiting game to see if the petition will reach the kind of numbers that will be too astronomical for the Blue House to keep ignoring it.

By the time Gaon was done reading the article, he was chuckling, a wide grin on his face.

“The kind of things people are willing to do,” Gaon shook his head before his smile turned impish.

Directing his question at Yohan, “Do you even know what Gahan means?”

“Gaon and Yohan,” Yohan muttered distractedly, already scrolling on to another article and was in the midst of reading it.

“And do you know that they usually put the name of the dominant one first?”

That got Yohan to stare at him, wondering what was the point of the conversation.

“So that means I’m the dominant one and you..” Gaon jabbed a finger at Yohan’s nose, “being the submissive one, must submit to me at all times.”

“Why must I submit to you!” Yohan suddenly stood up, making sure he tiptoed a little so that he could tower over Gaon, “I’m the experienced one so you should...”

Elijah quickly escaped to the balcony, sliding the glass door shut and cutting off the voices bickering inside. Leaning against the railing, a contented smile on her lips, Elijah admired the view laid out before her. The sky was a pale blue, the breeze warm and gentle, and the lake was calm with barely a ripple to disturb its surface.

Yohan was here, Gaon too, both doing fine after surviving the fall with minor fractures and a ton of bruises. Her surgery had been scheduled too, next Wednesday morning and even though it was a 50-50 chance, Elijah wasn’t fretting over it. Whether she walked or not wouldn’t change the fact that her life was more than great now that they were finally together as a family.

(For more Fictober 2021 (Gahan) - Read here.)

[mosswillow]

New Year. - Mob boss!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: 18+ adult content, Dark!!!, Noncon/dubcon, manipulation, smut.

Summary: A New Years themed dark Cinderella story.

A/N: this is another quickly written one shot that I threw together today to post. I may revisit this in the future and expand the story a bit but wanted it out today for obvious reasons.

Word count: 1.7k

“You have until midnight and not one second longer.”

You dart across the street recklessly, not caring if you’re hit by a car. Time is running out. You enter a dimly lit pawn shop and sprint to the counter, slamming down a ring. A shady looking man picks the ring up and examines it, grabbing a magnifying glass and holding it up to the light. He reminds you of a lizard, long and lean. He wears a green suit and his eyes are almost completely red, probably from drug use you decide.

“Where did you get this?” He asks.

“It doesn’t matter.”

The man thrums his fingers on the counter and makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “I’ll give you three hundred.”

“I need four.”

“Three fifty.”

You pick the ring up and turn your back, walking confidently away.

“Fine.” He calls out.

You stop and turn on your heel, holding the ring out for him.

“Make it quick, I have somewhere to be.”

One year ago - New years eve

You attend the annual new year's masquerade every year. The exclusive ball is filled to the brim with wealthy, well connected individuals, most of whom are alleged criminals. You always feel nervous going but go nonetheless. Your father took you several years ago shortly before he died and now you go in his memory, hoping to maybe feel just for the evening like he’s still with you. You put on your dress, a thrifted gown that you were lucky to find, and look at yourself in the mirror.

You look beautiful. It’s rare these days that you feel good about yourself but today nobody can bring your mood down. Today you’re Cinderella, dancing the night away before returning to your ordinary life after midnight comes.

You walk downstairs to find a note left for you. Your step mother and sisters have left without you which is to be expected. You’re thankful for the place to stay and never ask for anything more. They’re not your family and only tolerate you because of your father. Once you find a way out of New York you’ll leave and never look back. You make your way to the street, calling a cab. It’s a little splurge but you don’t want to risk ruining your dress on the subway and tonight is about living luxuriously.

The cab takes you to a decadent hotel and you walk in, marveling at the sheer size of it. Despite growing up in this world, it still feels overwhelming.  Someone hands you a glass of champagne and you take a sip, savoring the taste. You make your way across the room, taking it all in when you bump into him, or more accurately he bumps into you.

“I’m so sorry miss, I didn’t see you there.”

Your eyes meet and there’s a spark, a feeling of intense attraction that you can’t ignore, and you know he feels it too. The noise and movement throughout the room fades and it’s just you and him.

“I’m Bucky,” He says, holding out his hand.

The world comes crashing down as you realize who he is, Bucky Barnes, the most notorious man in the US. He’s young, probably only a few years older than yourself but he holds himself like someone who’s lived a long and difficult life.

“It’s not a problem sir, I’m unharmed.” You smile politely.

He puts his hand up to your face, gently brushing his thumb over your cheek before tearing off your mask.

“What’s your name?” He says, taking a step towards you.

“Beth.” you say the first name that pops into your head.

“Beth…”

“Smith, Beth Smith.”

Bucky smiles “Nice to meet you… Beth Smith.”

You nod and grab your mask away before escaping his company. You keep your distance the whole night despite Bucky’s multiple attempts to corner you and by midnight you’re ready to leave. You hear the countdown as you run from the building, looking over your shoulder nervously before getting in your cab.

Present.

You check your watch as you leave the pawn shop. You have twenty minutes, twenty minutes to make it to bucky’s penthouse or it’s all over. You barely got all the money you needed. You even asked your step mother to help. She refused, unsurprisingly. You were forced to sell everything you own, even the ring your mother once wore, your last keepsake of her.

Six months ago.

You write the order on a cup and hand it to your coworker before turning back to help the next customer. You’ve worked at the coffee shop for years now. You have a college degree but jobs are scarce in your field and you need the money. You’ve sent applications out across the entire country and hope to one day get hired somewhere and move off.

“What can I get for you?” you say before realizing who’s standing in front of you.

“I don’t like being lied to.” Bucky taps your nametag.

“I…”

“I’ve been watching for a few months, making sure you’re the one.”

He grabs the menu off the counter, looking through the different options.

“I want you,” He says nonchalauntly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Marry me.”

“I don’t know you.”

“If you come with me you’ll live a life of luxury. You won’t have to work places like this.” He sets the menu back down and smoothes his hand over it.

“And what does this marriage entail?” You ask.

“Complete obedience and devotion. You’ll do everything I say, have my children and keep my bed warm. In return you’ll have more money than you know what to do with, more luxury than you could fathom in your pretty little head and my loyalty. You will be my love and my obsession. I will never leave you and never let you go.”

You look at him like he’s crazy, which he most definitely is.

“Thank you for the offer but I’m going to pass.”

Bucky slams his fist on the counter suddenly, making you jump.

“I always get what I want.”

You take a small step back.

“Not this time.”

Bucky stares at you for several moments before taking a deep breath and ordering a drink. You serve it to him and watch him walk out of the coffee shop.

Present.

You jump on the subway and make your way towards Bucy’s penthouse, running like a madwoman trying to make it on time. You look at your watch again and have one minute. Time is running out. You run full speed towards his building, ignoring the ache in your lungs and cramp in your leg.

Three months ago.

“Bucky, stop buying me stuff, I said no already and nothing’s going to change my mind.”

You throw a box of chocolate in Bucky’s face and he scowls at you. He reaches forward, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you forward, whispering into your ear.

“I tried to show you what you could have, how much I could give you. I guess I have to try something different.”

He lets go of you.

“I won’t bring any more gifts.”

“Thank you.” you say quietly.

Present.

The seconds tick away and you finally reach his door. You bang your hand over and over while checking the time again on your watch.

12:02am

One week ago

“Bucky, I know you’re the one who set this up. I didn’t do it, I’m being framed.”

You yell at him, not caring who hears. The police showing up to your apartment with guns and pulling you into the station for hours and hours has left you without any fucks to give. You were about to leave town. You have a ticket ready to leave and start your life over somewhere new. Now you have to turn down a dream job and stay in town due to an ongoing murder investigation of someone you’ve met only once in passing.

“I can cover it up for you… for a price of course.”

You start to turn around and he grabs your arm, pulling you back.

“Here’s the deal. You bring me twenty thousand dollars before midnight new years eve. If you can bring me the money I’ll cover it up and leave you alone forever.”

You look down.

“And if I don’t get the money I go to prison?”

“No baby, you go to prison if you leave this room right now. If you bring me the money you’re free forever but if you don’t I own you. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

Your body slackens as you realize you don’t have any choice. Your only chance is to get twenty thousand by next week.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, I’m a fair man. I could just kidnap you but I want you to come willingly.”

You sigh.

“I’ll bring the money as long as you promise not to interfere.”

“It’s a deal,” Bucky smiles.

He lets you go and walks over to a small couch, taking a seat.

“You have until midnight and not one second longer,” he says as you close the door to his office.

Present.

You fall to the floor and start crying. Bucky crouches in front of you and puts his finger under your chin, pulling it up so that you’re looking him in the eyes.

“You were so close.”

“Please Buck, it was two minutes.”

Bucky grabs your arm and pulls it up, dragging you into his home.

“A deal is a deal baby, I wouldn’t be where I am now without honoring deals.”

He takes a box from the coffee table and opens it up, showing you a huge diamond ring.

He fixes the ring on your hand, a perfect fit. You stare at the stone, a reminder that it’s all about Bucky. You don’t even like diamonds and you’re sure he knows that. He knows everything about you. From this point on you’re his. He takes your hand and kisses it before grabbing the back of your head and bringing you forward for a kiss. He slides his other hand down between your legs, pulling your skirt up and grabbing your pussy.

“I’ve waited so long for this.”

He pushes you down onto the couch and you take a deep breath before opening your legs, giving him access. He fucks you relentlessly, pushing you toward your own orgasm. Fireworks go off outside the window and you hear the celebrations as people welcome the new year.

“That’s my girl,” Bucky whispers as he pulls you into his embrace.

You listen to the fireworks until they fade and you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

[beauregardlionett]

between the flashes

AO3 Link

Beau was always restless.

In elementary school, her teachers gave her one of those rubber wiggle cushions to sit on, just to keep her in her seat. Her parents let her partake in multiple after-school sports because it meant she would come home already worn out. They wouldn’t have to deal with her energy, and it looked good on college applications later down the line. She had a borderline obscene collection of fidget toys to her name and too many hobbies that she picked up and abandoned when they bored her.

Her friend Caleb from college often commented that he thought her natural state of existence was pure movement.

So how she ended up working part time as a model was beyond Beau. The journey from point A to B became muddled, but it likely began with Beau picking it up as a hobby and then forgetting to put it down again.

Granted, modeling was not a static thing. It involved constantly changing poses, making minute adjustments according to direction or impulse, and sometimes even changing or manipulating outfits. Sitting for hair and makeup was a torturous experience, so Beau had of course learned how to do it on her own. At least it kept her hands in motion.

Whenever she got to do dynamic shoots, Beau remembered why she stuck with modeling this long. They included everything she loved about the gig. Sometimes she got to travel, most of them were outside, and they often involved skills she had picked up from all of those sports she used to partake in.

“Beau,” Yasha called from behind the camera, sounding fondly exasperated. “I know you want to get outside, but you have to hold still for this photo.”

Yasha was an up-and-coming photographer that The Rexxentrum Times had described as “a photographer with a stunningly robust portfolio capturing everything from the playful mundane to the shockingly vulnerable”. She was also, more importantly, Beau’s girlfriend.

To most everyone’s surprise, it was Yasha who had approached Beau first, asking with her trademark quiet hesitance if Beau would model for a shoot. At the time Yasha asked, she was fresh out of college and Beau was two years in and changing her major. She had volunteered to model for an art class that Yasha had been in before her graduation. Apparently she’d made an impression.

The impulsive part of Beau told Yasha yes simply because she found Yasha attractive. The intelligent part of Beau bolstered the continuation of their business partnership after seeing the products of that first shoot.

Falling in love between the flashes had been an inevitable and welcome consequence.

“But babe,” Beau whined, adjusting her pose per Yasha’s patient direction. “I need to run around.”

“We’re almost done, Beau,” Yasha chuckled as she adjusted the light off to the side. “Then I’ll set you loose in a field in an outfit you can get as dirty as you’d like.”

“Fuck yes!” Beau cheered, settling into the nuances of her pose when Yasha stepped back behind the camera. A few snaps and quiet instructions later, Yasha straightened up, clicking through the photos on her display and smiling. It was that tiny, secret and pleased little spread of Yasha’s lips accompanied by an uptick at the corner of her mouth. Beau learned it was an unconscious reaction to her own work when she analyzed the satisfying, finer details.

Eager to see the raw photos, Beau bounded over and draped herself over Yasha’s back, arms flopping over her shoulders.

The concept for Yasha’s latest round of photos centered on flowers - their meaning, depiction, stereotypes and misconceptions. There was some implication among the stills about the flowers being the person, but art had always been beyond Beau. She could appreciate it, sure; all that deeper meaning stuff she would rather listen to Yasha wax poetic about than figure it out herself.

But this photo, this last pose, Beau needed no explanation. Despite being the one in the photo, she hardly recognized herself, feeling breathless.

Beau was in dark red cigarette pants and a deep crimson top. The sleeveless illusion neckline that fastened with a high collar around Beau’s neck offset the fitted sweetheart bodice. There were fake rubies in her ears, her features accentuated by the red eyeshadow on her lids, and the deepest red matte lipstick Beau owned. Yasha had her barefoot and sprawled sideways on an antique chaise lounge, leaning against the raised end with her cheek against her arm. Her hair hung loose, barely styled more than brushing out the waves and crimps from having her hair up in a bun most of the day. It hung over the arm of the lounge, long and dark.

In one hand, dangling toward the floor, Beau held a fistful of red rose petals, more scattered over the floor and the chaise. Between her teeth, she bit down on the blunt stem of a red rose in bloom, making it seem as if the flower was growing from her tongue.

Yasha had told her to go for something like desire with her expression. Everything about the setup of this photo seemed to expect some derivative of sexual interpretation. But Yasha wanted to take that capitalistic view point and have Beau model love - unadulterated affection.

The pose and staging were not what took Beau’s breath away, not the make-up or the flowers, the clothes or the composure. It was her own godsdamned eyes.

She looked right at the camera, but her focus seemed fixated past the lense. The skin around the corners of her eyes was smooth, her brow relaxed. There was a light in her irises, deep and yet affectionate. It softened the rough edges of how Beau presented herself as a model, as a person, and transformed her into love.

Without a doubt, she was looking at Yasha.

“This is beautiful, Beau,” Yasha said, sounding awed. “You look perfect.”

“All thanks to you,” Beau replied, both genuine and attempting to duck praise she still struggled to accept.

Yasha, ever attuned to each of Beau’s fluctuating frequencies, beamed at her. They leaned in together to observe the display, shoulder to shoulder.

“I assume you’re ready to go run in a field now, right?” Yasha was clearly trying to sound cheeky. Her tone, however, was a little too breathy, eyes far too distracted by Beau’s dark red lips to succeed.

“Absolutely,” Beau murmured. It was hard to miss how close their noses were to brushing.

Yasha hummed in response, leaning a little further toward Beau.

Suddenly, this all seemed like a lot.

Beau loved Yasha - in a whole and all-encompassing way. But it wasn’t something she just said every day. It was a gentle, ever present simmer of a thing. Love lived in her chest and made itself known in minuscule ways. She felt it like a tingle in her fingertips when she and Yasha traded coffee creamer and jam jars as they made breakfast. Love shaped her smile in a million different degrees whenever Yasha did something extremely...Yasha. It released her most honest form of laughter late at night when it was just the two of them and a bottle of wine.

Love appeared as wildflowers picked on a whim - not intentional roses. It lingered like Yasha’s favorite band t-shirt from high school Beau now had as part of her own wardrobe - not slimming pants and sexy shirts.

And while their first kiss had been the product of a dramatic build-up of emotion and pining, this was not them now. She trusted Yasha, but this unexpected snapshot of vulnerability destabilized Beau and found her unprepared for the aftershocks.

Beau was impulsive when overwhelmed.

Yasha leaned in for a kiss, lips parted just so, eyes closed, a breath away. Beau puckered her lips and blew a quick burst of air right against Yasha’s mouth.

Yasha pulled back sharply, blinking in surprise as she stared down at Beau. Unable to help it, Beau laughed at the expression on Yasha’s face, who was quick to recover, more than used to Beau’s antics. Grinning, she made a grab for Beau, who danced out of Yasha’s reach, laughing louder as she squealed and darted around the studio.

Beau moved fast, but Yasha was right on her heels and had strength and impressive reach working for her. It didn’t take long for her to catch Beau by the waist, twirling her around in a back hug. She used their position to her advantage, peppering quick, tickling kisses over Beau’s shoulders and neck. Beau squirmed and giggled, trying to either wriggle to freedom or twist around in Yasha’s arms so that she could fight back with kisses of her own. Eventually, breathless, Beau gave up and let Yasha hold her, both drunk off of laughter as Yasha put her down.

Twisting around once her feet met the floor, Beau looked up at Yasha, cheeks aching with her grin. There was nothing but absolute adoration shaping Yasha’s expression as she brushed Beau’s hair back from her face. Something vulnerable gave a mild twist beneath Beau’s ribs, but she didn’t pull away or stop smiling.

She trusted Yasha. Now that Beau had her balance, her feet stable beneath her, it became easier to face everything.

Yasha leaned in and kissed Beau’s brow with gentle attention. Beau clung to Yasha’s wrist where she cradled Beau’s cheek.

“Thank you,” Beau whispered - for what, even she didn’t know. But Yasha seemed to understand.

“Now,” Yasha said, pulling back with a grin. “Ready to go outside?”

“Hell yeah!” Beau cheered, darting off to gather her next outfit and make-up wipes.

She might not always have the wherewithal to put her emotions into words, but she had Yasha. That was more than enough.

[wuestenschakal]

Redemption AUs Redesigns: Shadow, Infinite/Zero & Allies

As always, general character informations & headcanons beneath the cut (include age, personality, backstory, etc. especially in regards to Infinite and the Jackal Squad) Everything I listed here is applicable to both Redemption AUs.

For Team Sonic and the Babylon Rogues click here.

Shadow

Physical appearance: mid-20s

He has cropped ears, not unlike those of a Doberman/Pitbull -> a design choice Gerald had been commissioned by GUN to make him appear more intimidating

Zero loves to bite, lick and nuzzle the small white stripe at the back of Shadow’s neck. (It’s one of Shadow’s sweet spots.)

Infinite / Zero

Age:25

Born: Khalid (arab.: eternal, to last forever) -> went by Infinite during the war to sound more imposing and threatening -> starts going by Zero once he decides to turn for the better

Youngest son of a cultist leader, who abused him for being the runt of the litter -> lived basically isolated from the rest of the clan & had to lie, trick and steal his way through his childhood

Ran away from the clan after a very traumatic event -> taken in by Akilah and her grand-father a couple months later

All-around fighter, hence why he calls himself the ultimate mercenary. Receives his scimitar back from Akilah once they’re reunited.

Ø Phantom Ruby -> powers remain, however (though not to the same powerful extent)

Personality: smart (strategist), suave, sophisticated (just listen to the way he talks) which makes it easy to manipulate others, patient, confident (to the point of outright arrogance, though he’s working on it), but also ruthless depending on the situation/person

Akilah

Arab.: Intelligent

Age: 24 3/4

Raised by her grand-father (Malik), after her parents died in an accident

Met Khalid when they were both 12 -> became an inseparable duo ever since (like siblings)

Her weapons of choice are her trusty twin daggers. She’s also a pro at different kinds of martial arts.

Personality: temperamental, fierce, roguish, direct, stubborn, let’s her fists do the talking, fiercely loyal to Zero

Sayf

Arab.: knife

Age: 28 -> older brother of Faris

Met Khalid and Akilah at the age of 21 after he and his brother had been cast out from their pack.

Wears a keffiyeh, which had been gifted to him by his sister before becoming an outcast

Despite being the tallest and strongest, he prefers long range combat over close combat, though he won’t hesitate to punch someone’s guts out, were they to get too close. His weapons of choice are throwing knives, any kind of explosives and sniper rifles (if he can get his hands on them).

The craftsman -> can build/repair any kind of weapon from mere scraps (though it’s nothing like the high-end technology produced by Eggman or Tails)

Personality: calm, taciturn, patient, mild, a good listener, protective over those he deems friends/family

Faris

Arab.: knight

Age: 27 -> younger brother of Sayf

Met Khalid and Akilah at the age of 20 after he and his brother had been cast out from their pack.

His beret has been a gift from his younger sister, before he’d been cast out

The scout/spy -> stealth master. His weapons of choice are his clever, smoke bombs and poison/sleep darts.

Personality: level-headed, more often than not the voice of reason, patient, yet a bit of a stuck-up at times (because he thinks he's the most mature one of the pack -> takes his big brother role very serious)

Talib

Arab.: scholar, seeker of knowledge

Age: 17

The puppy of the squad -> still has his soft baby fur

The last one to join the pack at the age of 11 -> they adopted him into the squad after finding him as the sole survivor amidst the ruins of his burned down village, which had fallen victim to a bandit raid

Mercenary-in-training, though he’s become an assest to the squad thanks to his vast knowledge -> loves to read up on random facts, and does any kind of research which could profit the squad (this can range from arts and architecture all the way to chemistry and technology). He’s also very good at parkour.

Personality: excitable, impressionable (though not to the point of naivety), smart, boisterous, looks up to the others (esp. Zero)

Has a puppy crush on Silver

Silver

Age: 17

his redesign is heavily influenced by the early concept art of Silver as Venice the Mink (as I really like that design)

I headcanon him to be younger than Shadow and Sonic (but older than Tails)

I also headcanon that he has more respect for Shadow than Sonic (to the point of admiration), considering that he’s from the future and Shadow is immortal, and would therefore still be alive in Silver’s time. Hence the reason why I make him side with Shadow. (I also like the idea of him being Shadow’s son *shrugs* Sega only has itself to blame for this, when they decided to cast Silver as Galahad in SatBK)

Rouge

Age: 27

I took inspiration from her Sonic Heroes design, for I adore her purple catsuit, as well as her dark purple and magenta wings. (Also, give this gorgeous queen of a bat more wingspan, Sega)

Supports👏 Shadow👏 no👏matter👏what,👏because👏they’re👏FAMILY~!👏👏👏

[96thdayofrage]

Diamond Reynolds, former fiancé of Philando Castile, spoke during “The Secret March” in St. Paul.

Darnella Frazier's viral video of George Floyd's final, struggling moments showed the world what she happened to see and document on a Minneapolis street last May.

This week, the world got a glimpse of the trauma that still haunts her because of it.

"There have been nights I stayed up apologizing and apologizing to George Floyd for not doing more and not physically interacting and not saving his life," Frazier testified tearfully, between sharp inhales in former police officer Derek Chauvin's murder trial. "But it's like not what I should have done, it's what he should have done," she said referring to Chauvin.

Like Frazier, who simply happened to be taking her 9-year-old cousin to the store that evening, other people who have stumbled upon and documented instances of police violence describe recording as they only thing they could do in situations where they felt helpless. Often, they end up encumbered with guilt, sleepless nights and other mental health concerns.

The experiences witnesses described in court this week are consistent with symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, said University of Minnesota Psychology Professor Patricia Frazier. Though many people think of PTSD as an aftermath of combat, it can also include witnessing many forms of death and threat.

"That qualifies as a trauma for PTSD. It makes sense that if someone was right there when it happened and filming it, that they would be experiencing trauma symptoms," she said.

Guilt and regret over not doing more to stop Floyd's death could be consistent with "moral injury," when someone feels guilty for not stopping an event that violated their moral code, the professor said.

The first week of the trial revealed more people filmed the actions of Chauvin and three other former Minneapolis police officers than previously made public.

High school senior Alyssa Funari, still a minor, was also recording that day.

"I felt like there wasn't really anything I could do," she said in emotional testimony. "As a bystander I was powerless there, and I was failing to do anything."

Afterward, Funari said she felt numb, pushing the experience aside because she did not know what to feel.

After Los Angeles police were caught beating Rodney King on camera by George Holliday and his new camcorder in 1991, video has become integral in raising awareness of police violence across the country.

In 2014, Diamond Reynolds broadcast her boyfriend Philando Castile's dying moments in the seat of his car after he was shot by a St. Anthony police officer. Reynolds said it is always necessary to pull out your phone to get footage of incidents that could turn deadly.

"I didn't want to be accused of doing anything that caused Phil to get killed. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if that happened," Reynolds said.

It's been difficult for Dae'anna, Reynold's daughter, who was in the car that night, Reynolds said, adding that the fourth-grader continues to go to therapy.

"She loves leading protests. ... We want her to be a healer to other people who've gone through similar things that she has," Reynolds said.

When police approached Eric Garner and Ramsey Orta in New York City in 2014, Orta knew what to do. He'd been recording his interactions with police for about a year, uploading the videos to YouTube for accountability and his personal safety. But he didn't realize until months later how he had been affected by what he witnessed: his friend dying after an officer put him in a chokehold while arresting him.

"Mentally I wasn't stable, physically I wasn't right, I was losing a lot of weight, I wasn't sleeping," Orta said.

Without the support he got for filming the video, Orta said he is unsure if he would have recovered from his experience.

"I was always criticizing myself for not doing enough," Orta said, echoing the guilt witnesses expressed in Minneapolis.

Showing the world what happened to Garner continues to affect Orta daily, he said.

"As many times as I try to forget about this or keep my mind off it, either the TV, the radio or somebody around me or something that I look at just brings it up and brings it right back. I never get away from it," Orta said.

"I can't breathe" — the words both Garner and Floyd uttered as they lay dying, still disturb Orta.

"I'll be talking to somebody and they'll say 'I can't breathe.' In an instant, that triggers," Orta said.

But filming these interactions with police can bring awareness to police brutality, which Orta discusses in his 2017 documentary Copwatch.

The invention of video makes it more difficult to ignore or invalidate cases of injustice, said University of Minnesota Hubbard School of Journalism and Mass Communication professor Danielle Kilgo.

"The portability and the affordability, the adoption of mobile technology really gave people a defense line, especially communities of color, to sort of prove what hadn't been believed by so many people before," Kilgo said.

The Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma typically provides resources for journalists and photographers who experience trauma, but the center's programs are easily applicable to any people who have witnessed violence, said Kilgo.

"They want to bear witness to a tragedy, and they know they can't intervene. It's been traumatic for journalists, and it's equally traumatic for citizen journalists who are picking up that role," Kilgo said.

Reynolds said she and others pull out their phones because they want to have evidence and they want their stories to be heard, knowing that narratives surrounding police interactions can be manipulated.

"The nastiest and gruesomest thing is taking out a phone and recording somebody as they are being hurt. You want to try help them," Reynolds said. "But if pulling out your phone is the only way you can try to help, then save yourself by pulling out your phone. Take deep breaths. Don't think about it. Press that button and let it flow."

Staff writer Reid Forgrave contributed to this report.

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming Pt 18

CW: Noncon - Shock Collar - Pain - Petplay - Drugs - Kidnapping  - Manipulation 

Sasha had been staring at the door for a bit. I really enjoyed the moments where I got to watch those wheels spin in her head, it was cute watching her overthink things. She looked at me and tilted her head to the side and my heart fluttered. Such an adorable move, already picking up on nonverbal communication in the most dog-like way she could. She could have gestured to the door with her paw but instead she tilted her head to the side like a confused puppy.

“I see you’re confused. You won’t be doing any more activities there. Instead you’ll leave your cage when it's time to do training or activities of any sort. The cage is for relaxation and safety. I’m sure I can trust you to not do anything stupid outside of the cage. Right?” She nodded her head, keeping eye contact with me. “Then feel free to come out sweetheart. You can push the door open with your snout and shut it with your back leg.”

She cautiously approached the door, waiting for some kind of trick. I’d never use a trick to ruin such a moment. I found it adorable how much Sasha really looked like some kind of animal. She was being cautious, skittish about a change in her environment. There really wasn’t a difference between something like Sasha and a real dog. Both just animals reacting to their environments, they couldn’t do much else in captivity. Though she was smart enough not to just attack me the moment I let her out.

She carefully pushed the door open and crawled out, never breaking eye contact with me. It made it a little awkward as she missed the door with her foot twice, forcing her to look away so she could kick it closed. I suppressed a laugh, I didn’t want to lose her cooperation yet. 

It was Sasha’s frankly funny behavior that I felt vindicated my position. She had been put through sleep deprivation, dozens of shocks a day at this point, been run ragged last night, drugged and kidnapped. Yet she never really lost her sarcasm. She made jokes. She said mean things that most people wouldn’t want to say to a kidnapper from fear of retribution. Above all she was working with me. 

Even under threat most people in Sasha’s position wouldn’t be as cooperative. They’d be fearfully obeying orders or be screaming hellions refusing to obey any order until you had to break them down into nothing to get something to work with. They were getting boring to deal with. The fearful ones didn’t present a challenge, at their worst they would burst into tears and beg to not have to do something you asked them to do. But they’d do it. Unfortunately the hellions had to be broken which left many with very little personality. Most became quiet and reserved, good for maids and such since they would just do whatever you asked of them. They had no resistance left in them when you were through with them.. Rarely was there a case like Sasha. To think my friend just wanted to break her as a pony, it would have been such a waste.

“Sit.” She huffed and sat down like she had been shown. “Good girl Sasha. I’m going to give you a few new tricks you’ll be learning. I want to see how you interpret them so I’ll wait to see what you do before telling you how to change if you’re wrong.”

She looked like she wanted to scowl, but her heart wasn’t in it. I expected this to be a fairly easy session. Just a few tricks and we’d be done for the moment.

“Beg Sasha.” I watched as the gears in her head turned before she gestured at her collar. I knew what I wanted to see from her begging so I got what her concern is. “Like when you’re allowed to speak, beg temporarily allows you to sit up higher than you normally are allowed, but won’t let you stand all the way up. One more time. Beg.”

I watched her get into a squatting position, placing her weight on her toes. She straightened her back and pulled in her arms. She went red in the face when she realized this position put her entire body on display for me. It truly allowed me to admire my property. “Such a good girl Sasha, you got it on your first try. You have wonderful instincts, such a good doggy.” She tensed up from my compliment, I wonder if she was thinking of lunging at me? I’m sure she’d love to make me stop talking if she could. “Keep this position going. Bark Sasha.”

“...Woof.” A sad attempt. Barely audible. Wasn’t even a bark, she just said woof. “Try again Sasha. No dog says woof. They bark. Making a barking sound. Bark Sasha.” 

The second time she did it correctly. Well, comparatively correctly. Much too quiet, but she let out a bark. “Again. Bark.” I kept encouraging her until she was doing it loud enough consistently. I was starting to feel a bit of resentment over her earlier outburst. This was what was supposed to make her feel dehumanized. Having to sit there and bark. It would be a fun thing to make her do if I ever had company. When I was unfortunate enough to have company. Unfortunately this wasn’t having the impact I wanted.

“Dogs need to pant Sasha, you aren’t any exception. Pant.” I hit a line there, just what I was hoping to do. Panting wasn’t a common thing for owners to have pets do, it was noisy and distracting. But I thought it was cute. Penny had picked it up pretty quickly as something she should do when she begged. She had been so eager to please. It was unfortunate that she couldn’t be housebroken after I had finished with her. Sasha at least had that down.

I turned the collar to 1 and pressed the button. Her body twitched and she glared at me. “You agreed to do what I told you to do. I want you to pant. I would hope that going outside means more to you than a bruised ego. If it’s any consolation, this is the last trick you’ll be learning today.”

She still didn’t budge. She just narrowed her eyes at me. I was having a hard time trying to figure out her thought process. She was already on display for me and we were at the finish line. Why would you choose now of all time to resist? I turned the dial to 2 and pressed the button again. She twitched again and tried to keep her balance. She still didn’t break eye contact.

“If this is about you wanting to say something, I’m not giving you anymore questions. I’ve been more than generous about those. You’re so close to getting to go outside, I’m not sure what your problem is.” She looked me up and down before doing something I wasn’t expecting.

She smirked at me.

Then I slowly pieced together the predicament we were in together. She had set me up. I remembered what she said. “The worst that can happen is that you shock me until I go unconscious again.” I had started at a low shock and was making my way up as she resisted me. I had nowhere to go but up. If I kept going up and she resisted I’d just knock her out again.

Having already shown her that I was just going to increase the pain made me run afoul of the other thing she said. “You keep hurting me even though you claim to care about me.” It was my prerogative to punish my pet as I saw fit, but Sasha saw the punishments as vindication of her view that I didn’t care for her.

It was the last statement that had stung the most. "At least they wouldn’t pretend to care about me." I cared a lot about Sasha. She was making me prove it, either I could do what I wanted or I’d have to give up because she didn’t want to do something.

She was trying to back me into a corner. Either I got what I wanted and she would be vindicated or I’d have to give up the winning position and give her what she wanted without getting what I wanted. She had been watching me closely today. She knew what I was excited for and she was ruining it.

“Fine… I’ll go get the stuff so we can go outside I guess. Stay.” That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. Perhaps it was the more pleasant answer. But I could see from the look in her eyes that she was trying to push me. She had waited until the more irritating moment to rebel, she wanted me to hurt her so she could prove that she was right.

Sasha at least stayed put when I went into the toy room. I gathered some of the supplies I had intended to use. A hood that covered her eyes, an arm binder, some nipple clamps. Just the basic stuff. I went over to the cabinet and took out a vial of my special concoction. It was something I had never planned on using on Sasha, it wasn’t really for someone like her. But it would be helpful for me new plans. I loaded it into it’s special applicator and put it in my back pocket.

I looked over at the package I had left on the table. I had been waiting so long to open it. It was supposed to be a reward, something fun I knew she would like eventually. But instead it was going to be used as a punishment. I picked up the package and went back to Sasha who still had that victorious look on her face.

It went away as I laid out the outfit I was going to have her wear. “Your outfit is simple. The hood is so you don’t see the layout of my house as we leave. The arm binder is help you behave. The clamps are so I can guide you as we we around.” She covered her breasts when I said that. It was cute. She was too preoccupied looking at the equipment to pay attention to me circling behind her. I pulled out the applicator and placed it against the back of her neck and pulled the trigger. She yelped and tried to scramble away, but her muscles very quickly gave out on her. There was a reason I called the drug “Ragdoll.”

“Well, that was going to be your outfit at least Sasha. But you decided to test me. I gave you what you wanted, you didn’t want to learn to pant. So in exchange for not learning that I’ve decided to change up your outfit instead.” I watched as her eyes darted around. The only thing she could move. In a little while her voice would be free, but the rest of her body would remain in this state until I gave her the drug to counteract Ragdoll. I knew of dozen of slaves who never got the dose to free them because their owners were too cheap to buy it or they simply didn’t want it. Sasha was completely awake and aware but locked in her own body. Unable to move a single muscle or resist me in any way.

The dumb animal forgot what I told her.

It can always be worse.

[hopetofantasy]

‘Wandering Romance’ - Part 4

- A future with child fic -

Square Filled: Future, Family, Past lovers Ship: Sander Driesen/Robbe Ijzermans   Trigger Warnings (if applicable): mentions of abuse, toxic relationships, self harm, rape/non-con elements, emotional manipulation, mental breakdown, panic attacks, self loathing Created for @skamevents

Summary: “A perfect, tight little family. But happy. Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.”

In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past.

So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good?

Also available on AO3

SURPRISE: I’m going to add a FIFTH CHAPTER (EPILOGUE) TOO!

——————————————————

CHAPTER 4: 'No one sees myself like you do’

——————————————————

He knew he broke his heart.

Shattering the pieces everywhere. 

He knew they weren’t his to take, to glue together, to hold onto.

Yet, he did it. Again and again.

He caused pain, he felt pain, he gave the pain away. 

He hated pain.

But...

He loved pain.

He deserved it. He always deserved it.

Love was never his, love wasn’t there for him.

He didn’t deserved it.

Pain was better.

Breathe.

Why?

Breathe.

Why should he?

Please?

Pain was good.

Just once.

He wasn’t normal.

Come on, breathe for me.

Was he ever normal?

Oh god. Come on!

He was a monster. 

Goddammit, breathe!

He didn’t.

He didn’t do it.

He didn’t want to.

A cry.

Soft blurred halo.

Fierce light surrounding him.

Vaguely familiar blonde color in the corner of his eyes.

Deep pressure on his arm.

Harsh sound of a deep cry.

“Please, Robbe...”

The pain was enough.

But then...

After a century of darkness.

He took his first breath.

 -^-

 He didn’t remember how he got there. 

Slowly walking into his home and tracing the soft texture of the eggshell walls, he sighed deeply. He was welcomed back into the silence. As if he never left. As if they were never witness to anything else. Beautiful things had happened. Horrendous things had happened. But the walls would never speak of it. They kept their peace. 

Robbe liked that. 

The color was his pick, of course. As if Sander would have chosen boring beige, cold dark blue or a simple black. Come on. Get real. Back when they were together, he would have rolled his eyes at the suggestions the brown-haired boy would make. Arms crossed with faces close to each other, harsh veins popping out because of all the exertion of the shouting matches.

“Life is passion, Robbe. Don’t be the boring gay!” “Sander, we’re supposed to live in this, I don’t want to be nauseous of all the weird combinations!” “And what the hell is wrong with red and yellow?” “What’s right about red and yellow?” “God, are you serious?!”

Hours and hours of discussing splashes of paint, cataloguing each other’s taste, skipping the expensive brands and go into thrift stores to score beautiful furniture, to do it all over again. Yelling, kissing, making up. Falling out of bed, because of the fits of laughter. Mischievous eyes filled with what now?’s. Slight kisses to temples.

“Beige and brown!” “Orange and purple!” 

“Dark blue and light green!” “Salmon pink and aquamarine!” 

Soft Sander. Beautiful lover. His artist.

Always complying at a flutter of eyelashes, bending his knees at a sigh and holding him at one tear. Always there. Ready to take, to caress and to mend. Late night in bed with their little baby boy in their midst, whispering sweet words to let him catch on. Telling him stories about his day. About the weird accountant who wanted a beautiful portrait of his awful boss. Probably to throw darts at it, he figured. Why else? 

A cute giggle.

Oh, did he tell you about the elderly couple? Together for more than fifty years, alive and kicking. They wanted their love honored by making a beautiful portrait. “Yes, no problem”, he had said. After discussing the price, set-up and deadline, Sander had instructed them to sit down to pose. And that’s when they took off their clothes. “Ah, didn't we tell you? It’s a nude portrait!”

David had always been charmed by his papa’s life. Bowie was his hero, blonde hair and leather jackets was his forté. And the tiny boy was just following along. Worshipping every tiny piece. It ran in his blood, didn’t it? Being extraordinary? The artistry? His mother wasn’t conventional either. Noor was special, artsy and beautiful. So each day would pass and their son would be more and more like Sander. A light in the darkness.

And Robbe wasn’t.

He was cold, boring and hollow.

Like now, he was standing in his own home, not knowing what to do or say. He didn’t know how to get going, how to move along and change the course. It had all happened, but did it actually? Was he there? He could feel the ground beneath his feet, the musky air in his lungs, the color of the walls. But was he there? Had he ever been here? Was he truly him?

His hand immediately went to his arm, nails scratching the hardness of skin. And Robbe started to walk around. He needed to feel the space, to know where he was. Anxious pacing the wool carpet he had chosen to compliment the couch in their tiny living room. A space that had been filled with beautiful memories, that of Jens doing a handstand to impress his nephew and almost crashing into their new coffee table. 

His feet were slowly shuffling towards their dining room and kitchen. A small smile appeared at Robbe’s face, because he remembered how Moyo would make their regular tapas evenings happen here. Before they all had settled down with their partners and became too busy to organize them again. “I’m the best chef cook of the Western Hemisphere, Robbe! You’ll see!”, he said the first time. 

Right before the fire alarm went off. 

The next memory flashed before his eyes. Amber and Aaron coincidentally sitting in close proximity of each other. The one looking at the other, right when the other turned their gaze downwards. Jana subtly nudging her husband and whispering her observations. “They still love each other,” Robbe had heard from her. “Why won’t they go back together?” With a slight shrug from Jens as a response. “What can we do about it?”

He felt hurt.

Well, that was something.

A feeling.

A little red stain on his finger? Robbe huffed, looking down at the color. Red is a beautiful shade, isn’t it? So passionate, deep and yet, something that connected all of them. A thrilling feeling. Finally something that connected him to all his friends, his family, his own son. His ex-lover. He never truly felt tied to them all, especially in the later years.

A beep on his cell.

He was grey, as grey as the sharp steel in the kitchen. He wasn’t special. He never understood why Sander thought he was. Why his son would pick that exact song, the one which ripped his heart out and made him feel 16 years old again? Right then and there, at a beach town supermarket, a cute guy whirling him around on a supermarket cart. A feeling that went up and up, never coming down. 

A text.

Pain was inevitable, he had learned. With Noor. With Sander. With David. Because children were a blessing, they'd always be the good in the world. That’s why he needed to protect the boy, from all the evil. Why he would let himself be pushed off the stairs, so not one beautiful curl on his head would be harmed. Psychically or emotionally. 

- “I’m coming to talk to you” -

No other dark eyes filled with sorrow.

Only his.

 -^-

 “Come on, baby! Dance for me, you know you want to!”

“Wouter, please, stop it... You’re going to wake up my son.”

As if he cared...  Wouter just kept pulling at Robbe’s sweater, trying to discard it, so he could dug his nails at his bare arms. His response was to shut himself off. He wasn’t going to stop anyways, so why bother? Robbe liked it too, didn’t he? He was sure he did. When the other man nipped at his ear, slowly biting a trail down his neck and loosening his belt. He really loved it. Right?

“Rob- just do it for me. I’m too tired to move along!”, the man growled.

His breath filled with distain and mixed with the stench of cheap liquor. Eyes watered down to dimmed grey and clouds covering the sun. His hands were calloused, rough, manhandling him towards the end of the bed. The man named Robbe discarding his lover’s pants and hoping to shush loud moans by softly kissing his lips. His palm sweetly caressing, was met with a sharp pain in his wrist. Hmmm...

“I want it now. Don’t give me that bullshit about lubing it up and kissing gently. Just put a condom on already! I’m ready. You are too!”

Fear struck. Made him come out of the daze. Back into his mind. Robbe moved along to the other’s body, gripped the hip and pulled it from his orbit. Followed by a furious growl, whilst fingers formed a fist. He didn’t want it to happen. It would happen anyway. But still, he couldn’t say yes to this. This wasn’t what he wanted. Stop. Don’t do this.

“Wouter, stop it please...”, he whispered. “I don’t want this”

“What do you mean? You always say yes to this! It’s me your talking to, not some loser from the street, dumb-dumb.” Sickeningly sweet tone. A flower clearing through the greyish woods. An inkling of hushed love. Two bodies breathing together, bothered in various ways. But his head still screamed ‘no’. Greasy lips on his chest, licking towards his right nipple.

“I don’t want to, Wouter. Not tonight.”

Silence. 

Pull away.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, of course, Robbe. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to. What kind of guy do you think I am? I’m not like that filthy know-it-all you call your ex. I mean, it’s not because you have a son with him, like you jump when he asks you to. You’re not his plaything... You’re mine. Right?”

Wouter’s face contorted in a cheap grin. He knew he shouldn’t fall for that, Robbe knew better. But did he? Maybe... Maybe his boyfriend was right? Sander did boss him around, when it came to their son. Always expecting to jump? But that wasn’t Sander was it? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think.

His thoughts were interrupted by his lover huffing out a short laugh. Seemed to be sobering up, a little. Maybe. “You shouldn’t worry your pretty head too much, darling. You’ll get wrinkles. But if we’re not going to do anything, I’ll need something to get the edge off. It’s been a long, hard damned week. I at least deserve a break. You want some?”

Oh, Robbe knew what ‘some’ meant. The brown haired boy didn’t like this feeling. Of not being in charge what was going to happen at this point of the evening. He shook his head, while his chest slowly closed up. The last memory he had of that stuff, was Wouter breaking his dresser. All because Robbe made a comment about his unemployment. A throw-away remark, that’s all it was.  He was going to shut his mouth now. 

It only took him a half hour. 

“You know, sweetie. I always wondered what so special about that boy of yours. He’s the apple of your eye, right? A spitting image of you both. And yet, he isn’t. The son of an unknown father and a dead mother. Beautiful that you took him in. That’s true. But what’s so special about those blonde curls?”

Ice.

His blood turned to ice. Is this how murderous anger felt? It felt really close. His body was too slow at first to follow his coked-up partner to the stairs. But caught him, before Wouter could step foot towards the child’s door. Hissing. He felt like a wild animal, a lion trying to protect its cub, when he spit out:

“Don’t. Even. FUCKING. Dare. Touching. Him. Or. I’ll. Kill. You. With. My. Bare. Hands.”

Dark storm clouds looked into his. Venom in the mouth.

“Does he know, Robbe... Does he know he’s not yours? That he’s a boy that’s neither made from love between two men nor out of a conscious decision by his true mother? Never knowing his real father, having two fakes instead. You told me that, you know. You might not remember, but I do. I know what you said about little David, sweet darling son...”

Robbe froze on the spot. His fight-or-flight-reaction going into full overdrive. The hair on his arms were standing up, senses completely aware of his surroundings. All while still having no shirt on, he now remembered. What a ridiculous thought. Him, a man, of barely 1.68m and bare chested, trying to fight someone without pants and at least one head bigger than him.

And yet... So tempting...

“I remember what you said, Robbe. You were blubbering all over me, crying about that beach blonde bitch again. Typical. But then you said it to me. Your real fear... That he isn’t yours. That he looks so much like Sander, beautiful unattainable Sander. Boohoo. And never like the boring you. That you blame your ex for that! That’s what you said, right? ‘I’ll never be good enough for sweet David, Sander seems to be’. That’s adorable. Truly. Adorable.”

Poison.

In his veins.

Deafening silence. 

“Maybe I should tell him, darling? All. Of. It. What do you t-”

Hard grunting. Hands everywhere. Red scratches.

Black irises taking over the grey. 

Pushing and pulling. 

Shouting. Screaming. Crying. 

Tilting worlds. Tumbling. Tripping. 

Falling. Falling. Falling. 

Pain.

Black.

And a few days later: 

“Don’t tell papa I broke my arm okay? It’s nothing to worry about, okay sweetie?” 

Followed by a soft:

“Okay, paps. I won't.”

 -^-

 “It’s better this way...”

“I know.”

“You know this is the only way.”

“I knów.”

Beautiful deep eyes. A pained expression. The back of a hand tracing his cheek. Wiping away the tears trickling down. A watery smile. This feeling of being left alone with all the responsibility on his shoulders, was somehow even worse than breaking up. But he shouldered through it anyway. He needed to. He needed to be strong for someone else.

“Robbe...”

“Sander, don’t...”, the other, tiny boy whispered. “Just promise you’ll take care of him. You’re the only one I trust with him.” His little hands still covering the man’s rosed cheeks. Fresh bandages wrapped around the fragile arms. Memories of closing, days of grey clouds and unspoken communication. Sander nodded his head. But he needed to say it, to get the feelings off his chest. 

“I’m so sorry, Robbe. I didn’t know. I was supposed to be there for you. In sickness and in health, right?” A pained smile of both. “I meant it, schat. I didn’t... I should’ve... We wouldn’t have...” Sander looked down. He couldn’t find the words to describe what he felt. 

“It’s okay”, his love answered. A fluttery kiss to his right cheek. “I’m still here. I’m not going away. Not for long at least. And then we can start again. We can start over... Maybe. Only... If you want to. I mean... If you still-”

“I still love you. I’ll always will. I’m never going to stop.” 

“Me neither...”

A ruffle through brown hair.

A featherlight hug.

A light giggle from him.

A cute wink he managed himself. 

“Chill...”

“Chill..."

Then he watched the brown jacket step towards the entrance, right into the arms of the welcoming nurses. All warmly tapping his shoulder, introducing themselves and trying to make him feel at home. Nodding at what he's saying. Already knowing why he's there, but listening anyways. They were going to be good for him. Just like they were good for Sander, a whole lifetime ago.

But before his life partner stepped through the door, he made a stop and turned around quickly.

With mischief on his face.

“So, what are we going to do in the next minute?!”

And a loud response for the artist, surprising even himself:

“In the next minute, I’ll wait for you!”

 And waiting he did.