#BUT not entirely. if you draw notes directly in the program its fine

[bmpmp3]

utaformatix... save me..

utaformatix

save me utaformatix

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 8

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  “You have become the only one in the universe who can claim to uniquely know him.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: fluffy fluff, some plot, swearing, reunions, soft!Din, Kuiil thinks Cupid is a fool, Kuiil’s backstory from canon, surprisingly little angst (it shocked me too)

Author Note: I want to apologize to those on the tag list not getting notified. I have no idea why Tumblr isn’t cooperating and I feel horrible about it. I love each and every one of you who spares time to read this segment/series and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season.

Links to Part 1 and Part 7 and Part 9

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

The next morning you find Kuiil outside welding together two pieces of metal at his workbench. IG-11 tends to the small herd of blurrg the Ugnaught keeps in a large pen, feeding the two-legged creatures their breakfast. Although you were initially wary, the former assassin droid has been nothing but kind to you, if not a little obsessive about checking the bandage on your head every few hours.

“IG was explicitly warned by Death what would happen if your health declined in his absence,” Kuiil had informed you the previous evening when your attempt to stop the droid’s incessant fretting failed.

“He’s such a worrywart,” you muttered as IG-11 scanned your temperature, heart skipping a beat as it always does when you think about Din’s protective nature. There’s something unbelievably attractive about him making threats when it came to your wellbeing.

“A worrywart who left his gunship in my yard.” Kuiil aimed a sharp look towards the entrance of his home, as if he could see the Razor Crest from this distance.

You snorted a laugh at him calling Arvala-7’s desert landscape a yard of all designations, only for the rest of his sentence to register a beat later, making your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Wait, what? He seriously left the Crest here? Why would he do that?”

“The quicker his trip to Nevarro, the quicker he returns to your side,” was the response, accompanied with a shrewd look implying you were a fool for asking such a question.

Your Ugnaught host reminds you of a grandfather figure; a bit prickly and blunt at times, but ultimately kindhearted and selfless at his core, wanting only what’s best for those in his care. Between his insistence you keep resting in his bed and IG-11’s nurse programming, you no longer wonder why Din chose to leave you with them, thoroughly convinced you’re receiving better around-the-clock care than most people experience in medcenters.

Kuiil turns when you approach him, pushing his goggles back to the top of his cap as he clicks off the welding torch, eyes giving you a cursory once-over. You feel better than you had yesterday, both headache and dizziness gone, and he must sense that since his head dips in a firm nod, satisfied with what he sees.

“Good morning,” you greet, smiling.

“Morning,” he replies. His expression turns repentant, eyebrows lowering. “My apologies for waking you, but I could not let these repairs remain unfinished.”

“It’s okay.” You tilt your head up towards the sky, enjoying the warmth of the early sunshine after spending the entire previous day cooped inside his home. “I’m supposed to report back to headquarters later today, so I needed to be up anyways.”

Hearing the words out loud grounds the upcoming meeting in reality. It’s really happening. Hours from now, you're going to have to tell your bosses everything, now including your new title as Din’s soulmate. Maker, you can just imagine Hess staring you down with those beady, rat-like eyes of his, asking question after question about you and Din.

And if Hess was serious before on the comlink—and you highly doubt the bastard’s ever told a joke in his life—then there is also the very real prospect of Moff Gideon being there to take part in your interrogation.

“Are you alright?” Kuiil asks, noticing how pale you’ve become. Without waiting for an answer, he ushers you over to a nearby stool. You sit, mouth opening to reassure him you’re fine, only to be startled by the knowing glint in his eyes. “I recognize your anxious face from my years as an indentured servant. You fear punishment from your superiors.”

Your eyes widen, stomach suddenly feeling hollow. “You were a servant?”

“From my birth until my hundredth year, yes.” The nauseous feeling intensifies. You knew Ugnaughts typically lived up to two-hundred years, meaning Kuiil had lived half of his lifetime in servitude. “Earning my freedom did not occur without harsh discipline.”

You draw in a shaky breath at that. It feels wrong, being worried about meeting with your bosses when there are others, such as Kuiil, who have endured far worse horrors.

“Those with power think it comes from weapons and control over others through means of fear and violence,” he continues, returning the welding torch to its proper placement in his toolbox. “True power comes from the strength of one’s hope. It allows you to believe in a better future for yourself and so long as you cling to it, no enemy can break your spirit.”

His rumbling baritone washes over you, calming the worst of your worries. You press your thumb against your soulmate marking, a nervous habit that has developed since you first saw it yesterday. You’ve become addicted to the warmth the mark emanates as it reassures you you’re not hallucinating its appearance.

“I just keep thinking about what their reactions are going to be when I tell them about me and him being together,” you confess, feeling shy as you duck your chin to avoid eye contact.

“Are you embarrassed of Death being your soulmate?”

Your head snaps back up, shocked by his bluntness. “What? No. Din means everything to me.”

The words seem too loud against the quiet atmosphere of the planet. They reverberate off seemingly every surface—the desert rocks, the Razor Crest’s steel paneling and the metal roof on Kuiil’s home—echoing for miles in every direction. Despite knowing that isn’t truly possible, you are unable to stop yourself from wincing.

“You gave Death a name?” Kuiil’s bafflement is visible in the way his head tilts, looking at you in a way that is reminiscent of Omera’s puzzled expression back on Sorgan.

"I didn’t.” You shake your head, for some reason feeling the need to clarify, “He named himself. It’s just something for me to call him when we’re around mortals.”

“I have known Death many decades now,” he begins, sounding no less confused despite your explanation. “He’s quite...particular about the mortal traditions he chooses to adopt, such as appearing as a human male and piloting a gunship.”

“Yeah, I know how picky he can be,” you say slowly, not understanding what his point is.

“Not once has he ever felt compelled to use a mortal name because, in his opinion, names establish ties."

“What does that mean?”

“Without a name, he is but another stranger amongst trillions of beings, unrecognized and unmissed,” Kuiil explains, and you find yourself leaning forward, elbows on your knees. “By giving you a name to call him by, he has tied himself to you in a way he has not permitted anyone else. You have become the only one in the universe who can claim you uniquely know him.”

“Huh.” You let out a long exhale, suddenly aware of your heartbeat pounding deafeningly in your eardrums as it begins to sink in just how monumental the gift of Din’s name truly is. “Well how bout that.”

And the shrewd look from last night makes a reappearance, conveying once again how foolish he thinks you are.

“I have spoken.”

~~

People tend to forget a Cupid’s bow is first and foremost a weapon of defense. Comprised of wood from a Brylark tree, sinew from orbaks, and a thin layer of a mudhorn’s horn, it can be compared to Din’s armor in that it is virtually indestructible. A Cupid carries two types of arrows: one made from kyber crystal meant to lighten one’s emotions or, on rare occasions, induce lust, and the other one made from a kyber crystal coated in ichor, meant to inflict harm against enemies. Once a target is hit, the effects are instantaneous and the arrow vanishes in a burst of sparkling light, regenerating in your quiver seconds later.

You underwent rigorous training to learn how to become a master of archery. Your bow is bound to your Cupid abilities, capable of being summoned to your aid and dismissed with a mere thought. You were taught how to control your breathing, learning that the expanding and contracting of your chest cavity during a shot can ruin your aim. Missing a target is one of the worst mistakes a Cupid can commit, meaning you must make every single shot count.

All that to say, Cupids are fierce archers as much as they are dedicated matchmakers.

They are also dangerous when startled unexpectedly.

You’re in the middle of tidying up Kuiil’s tiny kitchen space, a task you had insisted upon after he’d served you a delicious lunch, humming to yourself quietly as you scrub at the dishes when hands wrap around your waist, pulling you backwards towards someone’s chest.

You react completely on instinct, teleporting out of their hold and reappearing on the other side of the room, bow ready with an ichor arrow aimed directly at the assailant. It is only when the meager light of the nearby lantern reflects off their beskar helmet do you realize who you’re facing.

Immediately you lower and dismiss your weapon before pressing a hand over your chest where your heart is fluttering like a trapped bird. “I’m so sorry, Din,” you tell him, limbs trembling as it sinks in just how close you were to shooting him. “Maker, you scared me and—and I thought I—well, I don’t know what I was thinking, just that I had to—”

In between blinks he appears in front of you, yanking his helmet off with such ferocity your words catch in your throat. You have only the slightest of seconds to glimpse the arousal darkening his brown eyes before he slips a hand behind your neck and crashes your lips together.

He kisses you as if you’re gravity and he’ll float away if he dares to spare a moment to breathe, sending a current of warmth surging through your body. You thought the mere touch of his hand had been life-altering, but it is a mere candle compared to the wildfire his lips spark. Your eyes fall shut as you kiss back with an equal amount of fervency, bringing him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck, grinning at the groan the action spurs from deep within his chest.

There is the heavy thud of his helmet striking the ground before he’s wrapping his hand around your waist, slotting a thigh between your legs to ensure every inch of your bodies are touching. Your cheeks rub against the scratchiness of his facial scruff, an invigorating burn you think you could easily become addicted to.

An embarrassingly high-pitched whine escapes your lips when he pulls away a minute later. He’s never looked more attractive, mouth swollen and hair disarrayed from your roaming fingers. His hands cup your face, and it occurs to you as he swipes his thumbs over your cheekbones he isn’t wearing his gloves.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, sounding slightly hoarser than usual and out of breath. His gaze roams your face, like he’s trying to re-familiarize himself with your features after the time spent apart. “Especially with your bow. When you pointed that arrow at me, there was this...fierceness in your eyes I’ve never seen before. Fuck, angel, you looked so gorgeous.”

“Seriously?” you say, raising an incredulous eyebrow, because of-kriffing-course he’d be the one being in the whole universe who is turned on by a weapon being pointed at him.

“Seriously.” He leans in, forehead pressing against yours, noses brushing. It’s hard to focus when he’s this close, like you’ve again entered that separate realm where it’s just you and him.

“Din, look,” you whisper, fighting the magnetic pull insisting you kiss him again long enough to show him your marked hand. “It’s real. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

The smile that stretches across his face when he sees it is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Angel,” he says, tilting your head so the words are spoken right against your lips. “I’ve wanted to hear you say those words ever since I gave you my name.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[my-writings-and-musings]

Rodimus/Reader

My first commission from an awesome person!

Rodimus takes his human SO on a drive to a lovely lookout, where they proceed to have fun with his holomatter avatar.

Very considerable Lemon, Reader uses she/her pronouns and has cis female anatomy.

The soft padding of the faux leather seat beneath you was butter smooth and polished to a sheen one might usually expect from diamonds, and despite the fact that your driver would claim such a look was effortless, you knew a very pricy balm had undoubtedly been used to achieve the effect. Mostly because the faintest hint of beeswax still lingered despite the sweet scent of cinnamon swirling through the interior of your ride. Obviously, the smell was the result of some lavish products as well, but like the polished seats, it would be passed off as natural to the interior if you asked about it. Not that you minded any of the bluster. Quite the opposite, actually, you found the tireless efforts to impress you incredibly endearing.

This was Rodimus, after all.

Looking away from the pristine twilight view outside your window, you subtly turned your head towards the driver’s seat, where an impossibly handsome but mostly normal looking man had a casual hold on the wheel. Any person that beheld him would have had to do a double take, as his entire outfit hardly blended in with the modern era, but in your mind he rocked the 80's look perfectly. But the gravity defying perfection of his auburn hair was, admittedly, a pretty obvious clue to his inhuman nature.

"Admiring the merchandise?" He asks suddenly, catching you off guard without startling you. Despite not needing to "look" at the road to see, he still keeps his head facing forward as he gives you a playful side eye, the depths of his irises showing the tiny refractive glint he taught you to recognize of holomatter avatars. For some reason seeing it while hearing his warm voice sends delightful shudders up your spine.

"I like to appreciate every form you have." You reply carefully, not wanting to let him know just yet how excited you are. Plus, it was true, from his towering robot mode to this properly sized human projection, Rodimus was fine, even his altmode could quicken your pace at a glance. Adjusting casually in the silky-smooth seat, you scanned the dark exterior outside your window for a moment, noting how the ocean had come into constant view as he drove along the forgotten road. Hopefully the destination he'd apparently spent weeks picking out was close, because you were getting rather... eager for what you knew was coming upon arrival.

"I did make a few adjustments, just for you." He said a little unexpectedly, drawing your full attention back to him. Under the cocky tone you recognized the ever present need for approval he carried with him everywhere, and it occurred to you that if he was losing control and letting his insecurities slip through then he must have also been growing impatient to reach the destination. For all his talk, the big bot couldn't stand much in the way of delays when it came to your affection. Knowing he was needing you put a smile on your face as he coughed softly and murmured almost bashfully. "I was hoping you'd like them..."

You couldn't resist; you had to tease him.

"If you're talking about the tattoo, I was waiting for you to let me admire how you masterfully patterned it over those muscles. Ideally with a hands-on on inspection." You said, turning in the chair to look at him directly. It wasn't purely a playful nudge, you did want to lay your hands on the toned arms he'd clearly worked so hard to accentuate with Cybertronian inspired patterns, if only because you adored the strength and warmth beneath your fingers. The fire pattern had been lovely, but this new one was striking, the black ink drawing in your eyes like a wonderful trap. Hm, just thinking about how heated and natural his holomatter was to the touch and squeezing those muscles-

"Oh, definitely!" He countered in a failed attempt to stay smooth, which deteriorated when his voice broke in a needy squeak. Swallowing in a perfectly expressed gesture of helplessness, he moved a hand down to his heavily personalized radio equipment, fumbling over the flame decals before hitting the proper buttons. "We're almost there! Let's uh... Let's put on my mix in the meantime."

A lovingly arranged playlist of soft but passionate hits started pumping through his speakers, and you were delighted enough by the sound that you didn't bother to ask if he'd forgotten he could just turn on his music without using his holomatter avatar. Slow beats thrummed through the air and into your body, enticing you by offering a taste of what was to come as the melody filled you from head to toe. Biting your lip, you prayed he was feeling the same thing, or at least an equal amount of anticipation. Mostly because you were not planning on wasting time.

"Hey, there it is!"

The excitement in his voice was tinged with relief you became too occupied to notice. Like something sculpted just for the two of you, the earth flowed upwards and outwards over the sea in a picturesque lookout beneath the stars, a lovely covering of grass and wildflowers swaying in the ocean breeze as Rodimus eased his way to the flat top. Beaming all the while, he explained himself at a level of ease that belied the build-up he'd been applying to this little trip for the past few weeks. "Found the spot on a planetary scan, along with a bunch of other potential locales. It took the lead once I confirmed the cliff doesn't get much in the way of visitors."

"It's beautiful, Roddy." You said in genuine gratitude, aware that planning something so sweet and quiet and then keeping it secret would challenge his naturally effusive and chatty nature to an exhausting limit.

To think a bot who'd traveled the stars could find such joy in spending time alongside you, to the point he painstakingly arranged these little trips just to show you the depth of his adoration, was enough to make your heart skip a few beats. "Thank you... I know you spent a while on this."

"Anything for you, babe." He said softly, unbuckling the seatbelt he wore entirely for show as his alt mode pulled to a stop on an especially flat expanse of ground, leaving just enough space from the cliffs edge to be secure. Taking off your own seatbelt, one that he insisted you wear for your own safety, you heard his engines settle into a gentle purr. Loving the sound, you briefly recalled the first wonderful night you'd enjoyed one of these escapades. It had been unplanned at the time, and you hadn’t felt even the slightest hint of hesitation on your part, despite knowing that having sex with an alien robot while his physical body was a car might be called "odd" by some. As far as you bothered to care, those people just didn’t know what they were missing. Stretching out on his seat and making quite a show of opening up his lap in the process, Rodimus looked at you with what was likely meant to be suave relaxation, but you heard the eagerness in his voice. "But, I think we both know what we want to happen next, so how about we skip ahead...?"

"Does that pass for flirting on Cybertron?" You teased right back, triggering a blush in the holomatter's cheeks. Some very unorthodox upgrades had made the program capable of replicating every physical action or reaction one could draw from the bot, and in moments like these you wanted to thank some higher power for the incredible delight that had given you so far, as well as all the ways it would undoubtedly benefit you in the near future.

Recovering by pretending to adjust his sweatband, he was quick to fire back a line with his almost trademark cocky tone.

"Well... There aren't too many incredibly attractive humans on Cybertron, so I don't think it matters too much." He bantered smoothly, unaware of how precious his finger guns made him look in the process. In fairness, they absolutely were having the desired effect, as you wanted more than ever to pounce him. Watching as his internal biolights grew brighter to advertise his increasing excitement, you planned your move accordingly, knowing from experience how easy it was to crawl over into the driver's seat. You let him give one final quip to provide you with the perfect setup. "However, on the Lost Light and Earth, it's been working out pretty well so far."

Not able to imagine a more perfect leading line, you left your seat in one solid and unerring movement to plop yourself gently but eagerly into his lap, loving how the interior warmed around you in response before you had even finished moving. Engines hiccupping, he looked at you the same way one might watch a natural wonder unfold as you secured yourself by straddling him. "You would know, Captain."

Smoothness lost its status as an imperative to him in that instant.

Helpless adoration and lust filled his eyes almost to overflowing as he slipped a hand behind your head, insistent and needy but never anything less than gentle while his fingers looped under your hair. The scent of cinnamon moved through the air in sweetly smelling swirls as you let your body press against his, the warmth of his holomatter not quite comparable to an organic form but wonderful all the same because it was him.

Though you'd yet to tell him, the way his altmode came alive around you both as he grew more aroused thrilled you in ways that were impossible to explain. It was like you could feel him on every level, more than just the physical delight of skin on skin, and that feeling came into marvelous actuality as soon as your lips met his. A helpless sound of need from him coincided with a tremor through the seat below. Despite how he always wanted attention, you knew straight away he was especially craving it tonight by the fervent kiss he returned against your lips, followed by his cautious hands sliding up your sides. Without words he was trying to convey a request to get undressed.

"You look hot, how about we take off that vest?" You said in act of mercy, not at all opposed to getting naked as soon as possible. Rodimus had, after all, painstakingly designed the body of his avatar to express his favorite physical features in human form. To say he'd done a fantastic job would be an understatement. Easily slipping the loose orange garment off his broad shoulders, you had to smile at the multiple shirts still awaiting their turn, all three of them looking far more out of place without the vest to tie them together. You tugged on the collar of the outermost as you made your request indirectly. "Along with some of the other layers?"

"Yes, please..." He replied softly, sounding out of breath despite not needing to breathe.

The limited space of his altmode's interior was no match for the two of you working in sync, and if anything you could swear he seemed to move around you to aid the process, but that might have just been the result of his delighted frame humming in encouragement. By the time you got to his Autobrand bearing T shirt he was getting visibly flustered, his big expressive eyes looking into yours with an ocean of mixed emotions. There was want, adoration, longing, and a touch of disbelief, but also the deeply buried worry that what he had wasn't enough. As always, you got to reassurance straight away. Removing his last shirt to reveal a panting chest rippling with every breath was the first step.

Your next move was to kiss your way down his toned stomach, slipping beneath the steering wheel so you could park yourself between his spread legs. Quick as ever, the hint of a bulge in his pants became a tent of need in response to your proximity. No amount of self control could stop you from biting your lip at his flattering enthusiasm.

"How about I start by thanking you for this date?" You said in your best shot at a throaty purr. Admittedly it was hard to focus on being sexy when you were beholding such a banquet of handsome and helpless allure.

A sigh that trembled out into a whimper passed his lips as he gathered the strength to nod, spreading his legs as the fabric over his crotch stretched to make room for his growing arousal. Had you not already known the outfit was also holomatter you never would have been able to guess. Just watching how naturally it cupped his sizable package was making your head get fuzzy... Hearing the clink of a belt buckle helped you focus, especially when you discovered it was your own hands undressing him, the heat from this part of his body delighting your fingers as they worked not to stumble. As eager as you were down low, poor Rodimus was desperate.

Shaky breaths became increasingly more perceptible moans at every exhale, a phenomenon you noticed was harmonized to rhythmic trembles in the vehicle around you. Despite his will being concentrated in the holomatter, the pleasure he was experiencing must have been affecting his altmode. Such a loss of control was exactly your goal as his pants finally slid down his legs. Simple boxers of dark coloration remained your only barrier, the synthesized elastic bearing a tiny Autobrand that was warped by the jutting erection presented for your indulgence. Unable to delay for the sake of buildup any longer, you hooked your fingers into the stretchy fabric and pulled smoothly but quickly, revealing an eager erection that swung up to greet you.

"Oh God..." He whispered in overwhelmed ecstasy, covering his mouth beneath a hand. His own altmode overrode the attempt to stay quiet, rumbling with primal delight that all but begged you to keep going, a request you had no desire to delay fulfilling.

Hot and smooth while simultaneously soft yet firm, he was a none too easy fit in your mouth despite how badly the two of you wanted it to happen, but you were absolutely fine with a bit of a challenge. He had personally designed this part of himself as well, the goal of which was being just big enough to provide some extra fun without running the risk of hurting you. Humming to give him a little more stimulation, you secured your fingers around the base and started to search for a rhythm, brain buzzing from the simple thrill of intimacy on this level. A shaking hand cupped your head gently, hesitating so as not to throw you off or come across as trying to control your movements. Hesitancy in how he played with your hair was somehow adorable. You read his every move as you continued to bob your head, sucking on his throbbing girth in the way that drove him the most wild; slow yet passionate. This bot had done so much for you, and you wanted to return the favor, putting your all into every suck to show him how dearly you desired him back...

"W-wait..."

The full extent of him that you could fit in your mouth came out with a wet plop, surprising you almost as much as his tender request for you to stop. Rodimus never wanted to pull back once things got going.

"Is something wrong?" You asked while wiping your lips, looking upwards from his still throbbing erection to the flushed expanse of his chest and similarly heated face. There wasn’t a trace of anything in his expression but want, yet he was careful as he tugged you back up into his lap, letting you settle your own clothed crotch against his exposed eagerness. For a second the contact made his mind go visibly blank, with all traces of thought disappearing from his eyes at the unmatched desire you stirred in his spark. Sheer willpower enabled him to recover and speak seconds later.

"I need you. I... and I won't last long if you stay down there..." He explained through his panting, holomatter looking as if he'd just run a marathon.

"I don't mind." You replied, grinding your hips forward to let his hot and unsatisfied erection rub against you. Plenty wet beneath your own clothes, you knew that Rodimus would never allow only himself to be gratified, so you were fine finishing him off first. Watching that beautiful face disappear between your thighs afterwards would be well worth the wait.

Clearly he was tempted too, never having been the type to hold off on pleasure in the present regardless of how much it would earn him later, but you could see a rare patience in his whole demeanor as he looked back to you. Even his altmode hummed a little more calmly around you, as if to show his commitment. This mech wanted tonight to be special. "If it's okay, I... I'd rather have all of you."

That was more than okay for you. To show just how fine you were with the proposal, you looped your arms around his neck and went in for another kiss, feeling the heat and gentle tingling of his holomatter against you. When you had to pause for air, a playful whisper made your answer quite clear.

"Well, you are the Captain."

A soft moan of open ecstasy was his first reply. What had started as a tease had evolved into a kind of kryptonite for him, to the point that even hearing you whisper his title got his engines revving. Hitting him with it now resulted in a throbbing erection pressing more insistently against your pants, and while you loved the helpless arousal on display, the tone of his voice was also a fantastic prize. "You know what happens when you call me that!"

"Care to remind me?" You whispered in devious torture, growing foggy with lust of your own that would soon make such teasing impossible. All around you he began to hum in eager arousal once more, his vents blowing hard to keep the air cool in his interior. Catching the smell of cinnamon again, you let him dangle in the wind only a moment longer, feeling his grip on your shirt tighten as he gasped out some quiet pleading.

"Please, help me-"

"I'll show you how this is done again, if that's what you mean." Trying to play it cool only for one more tease, you grabbed the bottom of your shirt, having undressed yourself for him many times in the past. Whether or not he was being honest about not understanding clothes hardly mattered to you as you pulled on your top and lifted it over your head, revealing the bare expense of your body save for a bra. As the clothing was haphazardly tossed aside you found his eyes locked on nothing but you, as if by merely becoming undressed you were beyond anything he ever could have imagined, and that level of adoration threw you for a loop. Muscling back into control, you went for the clasp of your bra next. Feeling his gaze on you made your voice tantalizingly soft. "See? Now this..."

A front facing clasp came undone easy, but removing the now open underwear wasn't at all mundane to your audience, regardless of how many times he'd seen what was beneath. Bare breasts came into view and your bra joined your shirt in the passenger seat, where his holomatter clothes had been set before fading away now that he wasn't focused on them. Actually Rodimus only looked to be capable of focusing on one solid thing.

You.

"You're my... my everything." He whispered with overwhelmed adoration, far too proud to care about sounding corny while he beheld the perfection of your body. All of your ability to play it cool evaporated at the pure love in his eyes.

"I love you too, Roddy." You said back without any kind of playful intent. The hands keeping you supported on his lap slid over the wealth of bare skin now open to him, but his touch felt like he was worshiping you, his grip tight only for the sake of ensuring you were real. Every curve brought his intoxication to new levels.

"I love you and I need you." He whispered into a kiss on your collar, hugging you tight so that his soft hair brushed your cheek. The ever present electric energy tickled your nose as you breathed in his scent, and while you'd heard holomatter avatars didn't smell like anything, you could swear you caught the faintest hint of the frilly brand of fruit scented polish he used in those perfect auburn locks. A tiny but very happy sound of awe preceded another whisper against your exposed neck. "Please, I... Oh man, do you know what you do to me?"

"I know what I want you to do to me."

The reply was even more lusty than intended. Perhaps dropping your hands to your still present pants was the cause of that, but the effect it had on him was far too lovely for you to care. Strong hands took hold of your behind as the radio amped up its volume, bringing the bumping bass of an 80s mix out to thump in your chest alongside your love-struck heart. Pants and underwear began to descend your thighs in a single motion as he uttered one final phrase.

"Let's do it then..."

Limited space was more of a blessing than a hindrance as you worked together to remove your pants, as it kept him wonderfully close to your naked body while you slipped the restrictive bottoms down to your ankles, fighting to keep your lips on his the whole while. It was perhaps a little awkward, but such triviality didn't even register as you finally wiggled out after a fair bit of contorting. All that mattered was holding him close and taking care of the need thrumming through your bodies. Straddling him once more brought a still eager erection close to an equally heated wetness between your thighs, making you moan into a kiss as you anticipated what was coming.

Tender fingers slid between your legs to blindly feel out your entrance, a common habit of his to ensure you were ready. Not needing to see, you rubbed yourself against his offered hand, making your heat and excitement very obvious to the one who'd caused it. The music briefly slowed like someone gasping in awe. Lips on yours, Rodimus guided you towards his erection as quickly as he dared, spare hand supporting your back as you moved with him in beautiful sync.

Sinking down on him happened in an instant but felt heavenly enough to last a lifetime. How he made you so eager but so relaxed was a mystery you didn't care to solve, especially as he was taken in to the base without so much as a pause on your part. Both of you were reduced briefly to soft moaning at the sensations you'd never have your fill of; delicious fullness and friction for you, delightful warmth and squeezing for him. It was heavenly enough that you just had to deepen the kiss to a fervor and hold him tighter at the same time. This bot felt like everything passion was supposed to be, especially as he gathered himself and began to bounce you in his lap, engine roaring in time to every thrust as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

Rocking your hips as the car shook on the spot, haggard breaths filled the interior from you giving him your all, your kisses growing sloppy while you lost yourself in the fun. He felt good, and you wanted more of him every minute of every day. It didn't matter if you were from different worlds, you loved him with all of your currently hammering heart. Judging by how he thrust upwards in perfect sync the feeling was more than mutual.

A shaking hand squeezed between the two of you to curve downwards and feel out your crotch, a habit of his you knew well enough to angle your lower body to assist him. Still bouncing along his throbbing girth, stars burst before your eyes as eager fingers found your clit, shaking but insistent as they rubbed a solid circle into the erect bud. It brought you careening to a glorious finale in what had to be record time. "O-oh God, Rodimus, I'm..." You held him tighter as the world melted away, his EM field spiking so hard it made your body vibrate in a way that was not at all unwelcome. It was a sign you'd learned meant he was also close. Considering how you had moments until climax, that worked out beautifully, and you cried out one final time to sing out his praises. "Captain, I'm gonna-!"

He was gone the moment his beloved nickname passed your lips. Hard squirting inside of you tingling with the faintest hint of an electric burst came just as you throbbed around him, your body rolling on waves of pure ecstasy that drew out shameless cries of adoration every time you hit the peak. You could feel his head buried into your neck as he came, and how he moaned out endless "I love yous" while his physical self trembled even through the padded seats. For what might have been a tiny eternity it was just the two of you in shared, heavenly bliss.

The afterglow was a warm soft bed that seemed to swaddle you as you fell limp on top of him, your naked bodies trembling and heated but satisfied beyond belief. Still atop his lap, you doubted you'd find the strength or will to move anytime soon.

"Primus, you are my everything..." He rasped out with a kiss to your neck, brushing aside some of your hair to leave a few more tender pecks along your jaw. Spent but buzzing from the thrill, he pushed his sweatband back into a less crooked position and laughed breathlessly, his lidded eyes meeting yours to look lovingly into their depths. "How did I ever get this lucky?"

"I should be the one asking that about you." You replied playfully, fixing some of his hair into a slightly less wild look.

Laughing again in the way he only did when blissed out, he ran a hand down your sides, tracing your lovely curves as he settled back into the polished chair he'd have to clean again very soon. "A better question might be; how are we ever getting back to the ship? I can't... I can't feel my actuators..."

"I can drive." You retorted only half as a joke, knowing that it was possible to steer a bot in vehicle mode if they allowed it. Most hated to have a human anywhere near their equipment, but Rodimus took the proposal with a grin, one that wasn't at all dismissive of the idea.

"Ohh, can you?" He purred while gently pushing your back against the steering wheel, giving it a little turn both ways to tickle you while he played the fake tough bot. "I'm a lot to handle. Ever drive a Cybertronian speedster?"

Even with your body still tingling from orgasm, you were as quick as you were merciless to shoot right back. "No, but I have ridden one."

His head moved forward to squish between your breasts like a worshiper bowing at an alter.

"God I love you." Came his surprisingly soft reply, before he looked up at you with unabashed adoration and spoke without a trace of innuendo. "Let's just... take our time. I've got towels in my dashboard subspace, I can clean you up, then we can go from there. Sound good babe?"

"That sounds very good." You agreed, becoming aware of a growing sticky mess between your thighs. Such a thing was common when the two of you really got going, the natural result of the overpowering pleasure that could only come from the connection you shared, but you were still happy he always offered to clean it up. To convey your gratitude, not just for the towels but everything, you settled a loving kiss on his forehead and whispered.

"Thanks, Captain."

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Lucien’s Whimsical Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Disney Dates Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Victor

The date begins with MC in the office at around 9pm

She has been working tirelessly on a program for about half a month

She’s worried and stressed because she can’t think of something innovative for her program

 Lucien suddenly calls to ask if she’s still at work, and suggests that she sets her work aside and relax i.e. by going to the amusement park the next day

MC hesitates, but Lucien goes into science mode and tells her that her efficiency might actually decline if she keeps focusing on one single thing

MC caves in, and immediately feels happier <3

The next day, the weather looks fine and perfect

And then it suddenly starts POURING right when they are two streets away from the amusement park

Lucien covers her head with one hand, and pulls her hand with the other to find shelter from the rain

They end up outside a shop

Lucien: Come to think of it, our story seems to always be associated with rainy days. 

[Note: I did this translation while listening to a Chinese gameplay commentary, and the commentator said, “Your story is associated with rainbows, but you just can’t see them...” T^T] 

Lucien notices cute Disney character plushies in the window of the shop and smiles

Lucien: I think I can understand the meaning of this sudden rain. 

Lucien: Perhaps it was meant to sound a prelude so that would come here. 

Lucien: Since it’s still raining, why don’t we go in to take a look? 

A pair of Mickey and Minnie plushies catch MC’s attention, but she can’t reach it. Lucien tries to get them for her, but he keeps grabbing the wrong ones 👀

Because she's trapped in between the shelf and Lucien’s fine chest, she turns into a Gavin i.e. her ears start flushing

Lucien finally gets the correct set:

Lucien: This pair?

MC nods vigorously, and says they can get one each

While saying this, I reach out to take Minnie from Lucien’s hands. However, Lucien suddenly retracts both hands. 

MC: Eh? 

Lucien sways the Minnie in his left hand lightly, then smiles faintly as he reaches out his right hand, which is holding Mickey.

Lucien: If possible, I actually prefer to keep her. If MC wants to use these dolls to represent the both of us... I’m thinking this would be more meaningful, right?

 After hearing his words, I feel the temperature of my cheeks rising even further. I gently poke the doll in Lucien’s hand. 

MC: [blushing] ...put these back first!

Lucien: Hm? Why?

Lucien raises his eyebrows slightly, his smile gentle and calm. There’s a hint of mischievousness in his narrow eyes. 

MC: [blushing] There seems to be other styles over there. Let’s go and take a look!

With this, I turn around and run towards the other end of the plushie section. Behind me, I hear the sound of Lucien’s faint, low laughter. 

~

By the time MC leaves the shop, the rain has reduced to a drizzle. Soon after, Lucien walks out of the shop too.

I walk up to grab Lucien’s hand, and swing it twice. 

MC: Lucien, let’s go!

Lucien: Judging from your expression, you seem to be in a much better mood?

MC: It’s because even before I’ve done anything, the heavy rain has already run away!

Lucien: You’re not wrong. Even though we don’t have umbrellas, the rain has dissipated on its own. This is why even when you meet temporary difficulties, don’t blindly immerse yourself in the feeling of loss. Everything has a solution, am I wrong? 

MC agrees, and they finally head to the amusement park, which is still as crowded as ever despite the rain

Lucien suggests that they try something different today - instead of being participants, they become observers

Lucien: Sometimes, people’s emotions have an influencing effect, especially in this place. 

As they wander around aimlessly, MC feels delighted because she doesn’t have to consider what attraction to go for next, etc. 

The smiling faces of the visitors, the vibrant colours, the colourful balloons, the inter-dimensional cartoon celebrities... I can more clearly feel the charm of the amusement park. 

I also have his company at my side...

I turn my head, sneaking a peek at Lucien. Similar to what I was doing just now, he’s watching the visitors queuing up to take a picture with a cartoon celebrity.

As though noticing my line of sight, Lucien turns his head over, meeting my eyes directly.

Lucien: What’s wrong?

MC: Nothing!

I shake my head, but the corners of my lips curl up involuntarily. Suddenly, a colourful castle enters my vision. I point excitedly at the one which has a spire.

MC: Lucien, look at that castle! Isn’t it very pretty? Since young, I’ve always liked colourful castles with spires. I’ve even dreamt of them! 

MC: I once dreamt that little monsters took over a castle, and I turned into a little super warrior, bravely sending those monsters running! 

MC: The moment the monsters disappeared, there were colourful rivers of light outside the castle.

Lucien blinks slowly, then his eyes bend at a nice angle. 

Lucien: Sounds like it was a righteous yet intriguing dream. 

I purse my lips and smile, then look at my surroundings. 

MC: We seem to have walked around the entire park. Let’s go for the attractions!

Lucien: All right. I’ll have to trouble MC to be my guide. 

Immersed in the joyful atmosphere, I even forget the time. When I come back to my senses, I realise that the sky has started to darken, and the rain has long since stopped. 

MC: It’s already 6pm...

Lucien: After this, do you want to have something to eat and have a rest, or continue playing? 

MC: Let me think...

The lights in the park start flickering on one by one and MC decides to bring Lucien to the spinning teacup ride

MC asks if Lucien finds the light installations pretty

Lucien: When I’m with you, it seems I can always discover a different scenery. 

All of a sudden, there are dazzling lights in the sky. 

[Note: The original word used here is “流光”, which can mean (1) “rivers of light” (like an aurora...?), or (2) streamers (i.e. party confetti). I picked the “rivers of light” interpretation because it seems more appropriate. But I’m really not sure which one the writers are referring to so please don’t scold me if it turns out to be party confetti LOL]

MC: Too perfect... we were just talking about rivers of light just now, but I never thought that we’d see them. It’s so magical!

Lucien stands next to me. His expression is calm as he lifts his head to look at the lights. Then, he leans down slightly. 

He laughs lightly, and I feel his warm breath brush against my cheeks, as tender as a feather. 

Lucien: In the amusement park, nothing is impossible. That includes the whimsical lights in your dream. 

Hearing his words, I’m left stunned. In the next second, a thought flashes across my mind. 

MC: ...! Lucien, did you...?

With a sudden realisation, I look at him, my eyes filled with disbelief. Lucien doesn’t say anything. He just smiles faintly and straightens a finger to do a “shh” posture.

I was right! These lights were created by Lucien! 

-- in order to complete the whimsical dream I once had. 

Lucien rubs the top of my head, the corners of his lips turned upwards slightly, the colours in his eyes tender. 

Before he retracts his hand, I hurriedly hold onto it, and then entwine my fingers with his. 

MC: ...Lucien, thank you.

I originally planned to say even more, but my eyes are drawn to the couple in front of us. 

They are lifting a Mickey doll in their hands, happily taking a selfie with the almost vanishing lights as a keepsake. 

Thinking about how we ended up not buying the dolls from the shop just now, I suddenly feel slightly envious, and a little regretful towards my earlier decision. 

Lucien: What are you thinking about? 

MC: ...N-nothing much.

Following my line of sight, Lucien’s eyes sweep towards the couple in front of us, then holds my hand to walk forward. 

Lucien: Let’s go, it’s almost our turn.

They ride the spinning teacup

MC confesses how she feels:

MC: I regret not taking photos of those beautiful lights, and regret...

I bite my lip, letting out a light sigh. At this moment, a low laugh travels to my ears. Lucien turns his face over, drawing nearer to me. 

He pinches the tip of my nose gently. 

Lucien: Do you still feel regret now? 

MC: Eh? 

Before I can react, Lucien takes out a pair of dolls from behind his back. It was the pair we saw at the shop!

My eyes widen in surprise, and I have no idea what to say. 

Lucien: After you left the shop first in the afternoon, I bought them. 

Lucien: As for why they could appear here, it’s thanks to the enthusiastic helpers in the shop.

Lucien: As for your other regret... want to take a photo? 

Without waiting for me to react again, Lucien suddenly places the dolls into my arms and takes out his phone.

“Kacha” “Kacha”

Facing me, he takes several photos.

MC: ...eh, are you going to create more rivers of light? 

I take the phone from him in confusion. After swiping through the photos, I realise that the photos only feature me, looking silly while holding the plushies. 

MC: Why am I the only one in the photos... I even thought you’d capture the lights!

I purse my lips, pretending to be unhappy. Even so, the gradual heating up of my ears reveal my inner happiness. 

Lucien laughs and sits even closer to me, gently wrapping an arm around my shoulders. 

His body temperature seeps through his shirt, travelling from my arm to the depths of my heart.

I lift my head to look at Lucien. Neon lights flash across his face, casting a reflection in his eyes. 

In the midst of the mottled, changing lights, I can clearly see a tiny me. 

Lucien brushes my hair which has been messed up by the wind, then places a hand on my back, speaking in a low voice.

 Lucien: Only you. Only the time spent with you are worth treasuring forever. 

His warm breath lingers on the tip of my nose. He gazes at me tenderly. In that moment, my heartstrings are tugged, as though making contact with electricity.

The surrounding scenery and neon lights follow the movement of the spinning cup and continuously change. Only the starlight above us remains bright. 

However, no matter how beautiful these lights are, they can’t compare to the tiny universe in Lucien’s eyes - the ones that reflect me in them. 

MC: ...it’s the same for me.

Hugging a doll each, Lucien and I are nestled together quietly. As the music gradually reaches an end, the speed of the spinning teacups also slows down. 

As though noticing my reluctance, Lucien suddenly asks. 

Lucien: I wonder if MC’s “battery” is fully charged? As compared to the library, isn’t the relaxation from this trip to the amusement park even more fruitful? 

MC: You’re right! My entire body is full of energy! Tomorrow, I can definitely welcome the new day of work with vitality!

Looking at my brilliant smile, the corner of Lucien’s lips curl upwards as well. 

Lucien: In that case, it’s my turn to gain energy.

After saying this, he takes my hand in his once again, pressing his forehead against mine. His eyes drift shut.

In our arms, Mickey and Minnie’s foreheads are also leaning against each other.

As though energy could really transfer from my body to his, the space between Lucien’s eyebrows smoothens out, and his expression is one of a rare, complete state of relaxation. 

I close my eyes too, feeling my throbbing heartbeat and his body temperature. Our skin is tightly pressed together, allowing our breaths to gradually mingle.

Perhaps more magical than the amusement park is Lucien - a miraculous existence.

As long as I’m by his side, I am always surrounded by happiness and joy.

-

Lucien’s Post: The amusement park at night seems to possess an even more unique charm. 

MC: I think so too!

Lucien: Perhaps next time, we can consider staying here overnight.

-

Lucien’s Post: The amusement park at night seems to possess an even more unique charm.

MC: Eh? What charm?

Lucien: I feel very close to you.

-

Lucien’s Post: The amusement park at night seems to possess an even more unique charm.

MC: It’d be great if today never ends.

Lucien: Even if it ends, it will remain in our hearts.

[beetlemancy]

Anon again: Thank you!! I appreciate you taking the time to answer me because I am kind of active in the community but very very new. I did know your opinions but being new I just wanted to know whether those recent posts held any weight. I want to be socially responsible with my media consumption and I was worried there was something I was missing, given I have seen specific call outs for certain cast members (Travis, Laura, Sam, and Liam) recently. Thanks again!!

Anon pt2: you don’t have to post this but for context the call out posts were as follows: Travis actively supports the military, Laura voiced a black character?, Sam did brown face??, and Liam is fake woke/virtual signaling (or something along those lines). Obviously I can find out information about this for myself but I have seen more anti-CR stuff lately which prompted my ask.

As with everything, I suggest you do your own reading on those topics, and any topic that comes up in regards to the media you watch. Below is simply my opinion. Note: this gets long.

Travis does support the military - but not as an institution. He has family in the military. He supports the soldiers. He works with Operation Supply Drop and I’d encourage you to look into OSD specifically. Whether you agree with the idea that we should even have a military or not, you cannot deny that our veterans and soldiers are given the short end of the stick. We cannot just abandon them because helping them might be viewed as giving money to the military. I have so many military vets in my disability groups. The VA is awful because it has no funding (I know good people who work at the VA too, but they just cannot help everyone like they’d want to). Programs like OSD are genuinely helpful to a lot of hurting folk and the people who shit on Travis and CR for promoting and helping them out have clearly never actually sat down and talked to a vet or a soldier before. 

Laura and many many other voice actors have voiced people of color in various shows. Yes, this is a legit problem. However, obviously as with most things, the problem is nuanced. The fault mainly lies with the VO industry as a whole, in that actors actually have very little control over what they do. There was a whole strike about this very topic (though the strike covered other issues in the industry as well). In the case of Laura, for instance, she was never told what her character would look like until after the fact. And that is super common in the industry. One of the things they tried to get in the strike was more transparency so that actors could make the decisions themselves whether to voice characters or not - not just based on race or culture but also based on type of work (stressful screaming vs chill dialogue) and whether the content of the game itself was something they wanted their name attached to. 

Sam’s blackface scandal is extremely old news. That’s not to say it isn’t important to note, and in fact Sam made a point to note it again back in 2018. I know people who can’t watch CR because of it, even after his apology, and that’s fine because its not my place to judge others for how they react to that kind of thing. However I know a lot of people who read his apology and the circumstances surrounding it and decided to forgive. To some people, the fact that he was asked to do so by will.i.am changes the situation. To others, it doesn’t. To some the fact that he apologized and has clearly worked to improve his behavior matters, to others it doesn’t. You have to decide that for yourself. You can read Sam’s letter HERE. 

Now. Regarding Liam. * sigh * I think, and again this is my opinion, that you cannot proclaim someone you do not know as ‘fake woke.’ I think there are parts of this fandom that have it out for Liam because of a whole bunch of gross reasons, many of which I’ve spoken about before. He is sensitive and a man - that makes people uncomfy. He plays a lot of women characters and tends to embody them in both personality and body language - that makes people uncomfy. He fully embraces the bi energy (this is not to say whether he himself is or not) - that makes a lot of people uncomfy (and angry). He loves theatre and loves to explore the human condition, warts and all - that makes people super uncomfy. Now. There are people who thinks he’s homophobic. Do you know why? Its because his bi character ended up with a woman instead of a man. That is biphobia, no matter how they twist it. Bi people being “allowed” to be bi and not ‘pick the right side’ in the LG (not BT, lets be real) community IS revolutionary because its so very hated. 

Another reason they say he’s homophobic is because of the jokes he is often involved in - some gay men in the fandom believe that joking about sex is him ‘making fun’ of gay relationships. As a bi enby, I disagree, and I read many of the jokes he himself makes as the kind of humor I use among my own friends. I think there is a definite disconnect between bi vs LG humor and I’m not entirely sure who would be considered in the ‘right’ on that. However, when LG people in the fandom claim that he cannot talk about gay relationships because he is cishet? They cannot know that. That is an assumption they are making. When LG fans say that he alone is responsible for this issue and not -literally every single member of CR- ? I have to question whether its really the issue and not just that they still hate Liam for deigning to make a bi character bi instead of gay.

Another thing re: Liam. Aside from Marisha, he is the one I see the most hate about. People on Twitter and Tumblr both have legit uttered death threats about him if he doesn’t do exactly what they want his characters to do in the game. Usually this is about shipping. I have seen people claim that they WISH he was ‘like vic mignogna’ so they’d have a reason to hate him more. I’ve seen a certain group of people and one in particular say they have ‘dirt’ on him but refuse to say what the dirt is - and yet continually bring up that it exists, but that they just cannot say. Why would you incessantly bring up information you possess just to say that you cannot divulge such information? 

Legit issues about CR that is attached to Liam is the whitewashing issue. Some say that only Liam is responsible here because he controls all the art. I would say that we actually don’t know that for sure. He is ‘Art Dad’ and clearly has some pull. I do think that CR should address this issue, but I’m not sure they can legally do what the fandom wants them to do, which is “call-out” artists by name and denounce them. Now, this too is more nuanced than the fandom makes out because its often way more about colorism vs whitewashing. Many people do not draw Beau as white, but they do draw her as much lighter skin tones than her original art. Colorism is a real problem, but white allies tend to go about talking about it wrong or making smaller things a bigger deal when POC would really rather talk about something more important to them. It was these same white allies that tore Mica Burton apart on Twitter because she liked and enjoyed a drawing of Reani, her own character, that was a few shades lighter than the drawing she herself had brought in, even after she had said that she appreciated the variety of skin tones due to seeing herself in each of them. On the topic of whitewashing/colorism in the fandom, I personally tend to wait to hear from POC over the masses of white allies.

The CR fandom is very big for a niche thing like DnD. As such, there are many many corners of the fandom that can get really jaded, really dark, and really up their own ass in regards to the discourse. There are legitimate issues in the fandom and with CR as a whole. Nothing is perfect, nothing ever will be perfect, and people should absolutely do what they can to do better and to ask their media to do better. That being said, there are also people who think that if you don’t do something exactly like they want, then you’re Problematic by default. There are also members of this fandom who have an active vendetta against certain cast members and will use any opportunity to co-opt legit issues in order to shore up their false arguments. These people are only using the real issues and it becomes clear pretty quickly that they don’t actually give a shit about the people they say they are trying to speak up for. 

There is also some fandom drama that has occurred ONLY in fandom and has absolutely nothing to do with CR other than the fact that the people involved happen to be CR fans. Certain people in the fandom think that CR should arbitrate this issue and involve themselves, call out the individuals responsible, etc. This is, I believe, a GROSS misconception of what CR’s role is and asking way too much of a source of entertainment. The fact that CR has not involved themselves in this issue has led certain members of this fandom to claim that CR is homophobic. I would caution that most callouts of CR as homophobic are directly linked to this first issue, and also a callback to the Vaxleth drama from campaign one, and is incontrovertibly tied to bi and enby-phobia and a seriously sick misunderstanding of the responsibilities a show has versus the responsibility individuals have as viewers of said show. 

That’s it for now. I could go way more in depth on this problems, but I’m tired of typing. Suffice it to say, its easy to make a list of things Problematic with CR, but once you actually delve into each topic hopefully you’ll realize how complicated and filled with nuance and Different Opinions going on back from the first episode of Campaign One... Listing problems without actually addressing them head-on isn’t a good way to deal with the problems that are true anyway, let alone tell them from the false ones. 

[script-a-world]

Got a question about building maps. There are always roads and streets that change, as well as buildings. How do I easily create maps of different times but easily seen on top of each other without it being confusing or all clogged up. The only way I think even,possible is handdrawing on trace paper so we can see underneath but it's still messy. How about when it's also important where sewer, telephone, electrical lines etc are located on a map? My maps are all muddled up.

Feral: So, for real, as I was reading your ask, I was like “oh, that’s easy: trace!” And then I got to the part where you said you tried trace, but it’s all muddled. And honestly? I’m still like “trace!” I work in the interior design industry, and I go for hand drafting and rendering as much as I possibly can.

I know some of my colleagues are going to have digital resources for you to try out (it’s all about layers!), but I’m going to walk you through how I would do this on trace (within the limits of what I would expect someone who doesn’t do this sort of thing professionally would have) in case that ends up being the best option for you.

Create a legend. Color coordination, thick lines, thin lines, dashed lines, dotted lines, squares, circles, triangles etc, etc. Have a sheet of paper to the side at all times while you’re working on your map to reference and add to as new symbols become needed. Think of the symbols you would normally see on a map - a train track is visually distinct from a street. Which exact symbols you’ll need to use will depend on where your map falls in the realistic to iconic representation spectrum.

Use graph paper for your base layer. Personally, I would use the base layer as the most modern version of the city you want to create, as this will probably be the largest map, and then the maps on trace will work backwards to the oldest version of the city, but do what makes sense in your mind. Orient your graph along the axes that make the most sense to you - most likely this will be cardinal directions with x as North-South and y as East-West. You will tape this down, and then tape the trace down over as needed. Once the graph paper is taped down, do not move it until you’ve finished all the maps! Unless you have a drafting table with a parallel bar or t-square (in which case you probably don’t need this lesson from me), moving the base layer could create differences in orientation of your lines on your tracing paper maps. If you don’t have drafting dots/strips/rolls available, masking tape will do; just give yourself a little more paper than you’ll need to fit the map on, so you can tear the tape off if necessary.

A bold border will be your friend. Outline a border on your graph paper, and every time you lay down a new sheet of trace, trace that border. This will ensure that you are lining up your maps every time. 

Use the right drawing implements. If you want to use pencil so that you can erase, (first of all, erasing on trace paper is not a fun time, but second of all) you have to find a pencil that is hard enough to not easily smear (H at the softest) but is soft enough to not tear through the trace and to create a line dark enough to read. 2H is my standard, but most “regular” pencils are HB (“B” means soft and “H” means hard, so an HB is the middle between a hard and a soft), so the yellow pencil or .07 mechanical pencil that you have is 2 steps softer than that and will not be a great option. Colored pencils, which usually require more than an accidental brush of the hand to smudge, also work great if you want to color-code. If you want to use pen, don’t use a gel, which stays wet too long, or anything that feathers and/or bleeds - a technical pen will be best; lower cost Staedler or Sakura Micron work fine. You also must, must, must have a straight edge! Even though you’ll be drawing over a grid, if you want neat lines, you gotta have at least one straight edge. Personally, if I could only have one, I would use my 30/60 triangle, but that might be an unnecessary expense for you, so… pretty much anything that is flat, hard, and straight can be used as a straight edge. A ruler without notch marks right on the edge will work, but personally, if I’m making light enough lines over graph paper, I’m usually fine using a plain piece of paper. I’ve been told even a credit card can be an option, but I would actually stay away from that because of the rounded corners - a sharp right corner will work better for you. 

Layers! So, clearly, each era would have it’s own map on trace, but I would also do things like the sewers, electrical lines, etc each on their own separate pieces of trace, possibly as overlays for each era depending on your needs. 

Labels! Label your layers! It’s that simple. What the time period is and whether it’s depicting the streets or the sewers or what have you. Use the same format every time (e.g. “1950s - Sewers” or “1560s - Streets”). Put your label outside the bold border you’re drawing on each sheet, and put it in the same place on each sheet - I would do it in the lower right-hand corner; to me, it’s the most obvious place to look while thumbing through pages for a native English speaker/reader.

Scale vs. Proportion. Most maps that you’ll get at AAA or wherever, will be “to scale.” If you want your maps to be to scale, that means you have to measure as you draw, and you have to know exactly the size of each street, building, etc that you will be including on your map. This will take a lot of research and a lot of time being very deliberate. Your other option is to focus on approximate proportion. The largest buildings are the largest on the map, and the narrowest streets are the thinnest on the map, without having to worry about exact size. Which you choose to do will be dependent on how realistic (scale) vs. iconic (proportion) the representation on your map will be.

Remember not to create more work for yourself than you need. Always keep in mind why you are creating these maps. What purpose will they serve? This is going to be directly reflected in how detailed you need to make your maps. Most worldbuilding applications I can think of do not need every street of a city for its entire existence mapped out in as realistic a representation as possible, and whenever we get asks that are about this level of detail on this large a scale, I get concerned that the worldbuilder is never going to be satisfied enough with their world-building to write their story or run their tabletop RPG or whatever it is you’re worldbuilding for - unless of course, this is worldbuilding for the sake of worldbuilding, which… go for it!

Wootzel: Feral has a fantastic breakdown on hand-drafting, but I would like to suggest some digital alternatives in case that ends up being more the route you’d like to go. If you haven’t used a digital art or design program before, they can feel overwhelming or impossible, and some of them have very high price tags. Never fear! There are options that are free and pretty simple, and it’s just a matter of finding one that works for you. 

If you’re just starting out, I’d recommend trying a program called Firealpaca. It’s free, has a nice set of tools but is still simple enough to pick up mostly by playing with it, and it has enough of a userbase for there to be easy-to-find tutorials around the internet. I actually don’t use it often as my favorite art program is a paid program, but I have had a lot of fun with it when I messed with it in the past. 

So, why is digital a good option for your project? The simple answer: Layers. Just like Feral’s breakdown on making different layers using tracing paper, digital layers will allow you to separate the different elements of your map and easily show/hide them as needed, edit one aspect at a time, and generally move/remove/manipulate them in relation to each other. You can put your electrical lines on a different layer from the sewer lines and turn them on and off at will, color them differently, and generally differentiate them from each other. You can use layer groups/folders to make your maps of different times stay separate from each other. And you can use little visual tricks to make them stand out--for example, using crisp lines on a modern map and using a brush with some jitter on your older map. 

Firealpaca also has some nice snap modes built in--basically like having a straightedge on the computer. Want to only draw on a grid for a while? Turn on the grid snapping, and suddenly the only directions you can draw are horizontal or vertical. There are similar, easily accessible modes for parallel lines, vanishing point, radial, etc. Almost all the digital art programs I have used also have a built in function to quickly make a straight line--hold shift while using a standard brush tool and click where you want the line to start and end. 

One final note--if you end up putting in a lot of time and effort into digital drawing programs, even if you aren’t freehanding much, having a basic tablet can make things so much easier and quicker. Drawing tablets have gotten very cheap in recent years, and for a purpose like this, you would do just fine with one of the tiny, basic ones.

[thecassadilla]

Pining for the Fjords

Word Count: 5,736/AO3 Link

Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: Kristoff Bjorgman has the ability to bring the dead back to life with the touch of a finger - and only a few rules. After joining forces with a private detective, Kristoff finds himself in a difficult position when he brings his childhood sweetheart, Anna, back from the dead.

The only condition is that they can never touch each other, or else Anna will die, again - but this time, it will be permanent.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Despite feeling quite burned out, I somehow managed to write another fic (I have no self-control). This is a Pushing Daisies!AU. If you haven’t watched the show, I highly recommend it - and if you live in the United States (and possibly elsewhere, but I don’t know for sure), it’s free on cwseed! I can provide a link for anyone who is interested! Pushing Daisies is one of my favorite shows - it’s morbid, grotesque, and mysterious, but also sickly sweet and fairytale-esque. And the visuals and aesthetics are stunning. It’s also from 2007, which is where I’m convinced I left my brain. This fic draws heavily from the source material, but you don’t have to be familiar with it to understand this fic. Will this be continued? I have no idea. I don’t make decisions lol. I hope you enjoy it!

(As a disclaimer/trigger warning, death is spoken about *a lot* in this fic and there is a temporary major character death. If the thought of any of that makes you uncomfortable, I would advise you not to read this fic.)

Pining for the Fjords - a euphemism for death. “Used to describe a dead person or animal as a way of convincing somebody that the corpse is not, in fact, dead,” Urban Dictionary.

Kristoff Bjorgman had a gift. It wasn’t a gift that was nicely packaged with a bow on top, and was rather quite morbid - he could touch someone who had died and bring them back to life. As simple as it sounded, there were terms and conditions that went along with this gift. The first was that he could bring the deceased back to life for one minute only, or someone else would die as a consequence. An eye for an eye, so to speak. The second was that, if he allowed the person he touched to remain alive, he could never touch them again. Or else they would die, again - but this time it would be forever.

He learned about this arrangement the hard way; as a young child, he hadn’t been exposed to death. At the age of ten, while running in a field with his beloved dog, he would learn about death, and subsequently, his gift, the hard way. For, his dog, Sven, would run into the middle of the street and be struck by a semi-truck before his very own eyes.

He would race over to the side of his now-deceased dog, and gently rest a hand on the side of his limp body, only for the dog to become reanimated and jump off the ground. In that moment, he was unaware of the consequences of bringing Sven back to life - not too far away, a squirrel would die in place of Sven. 

He returned home that afternoon, with Sven in tow, happily trotting beside him. Across the street from his home lived a pair of sisters; he would often play with the younger of the two, a girl named Anna. In the grand scheme of things, his gift seemed insignificant, for he had fallen in love with Anna. She, herself, was a gift to Kristoff - curious, imaginative, fun, and fearless - and they spent many hours enjoying each other’s company. 

As he watched her play with her father on her family’s lawn from his kitchen window, tragedy would strike for the second time that day. His mother, who had a knack for baking pies, would collapse on the kitchen floor, mere inches from him. Suddenly, his newfound gift would once again prove itself useful. He would slowly approach her body and crouch down next to it, hesitantly touching his index finger to his arm. Immediately, she would gasp for air and rise off the ground, completely unaware of what had happened. 

Unfortunately, the clock continued to tick away, and once sixty seconds had passed, the first caveat of Kristoff’s gift would make itself known. He watched in silent horror as Anna’s father collapsed on the grass across the street, in front of his helpless friend. An eye for an eye; one life in exchange for another. 

The second caveat of Kristoff’s gift would make itself known later that evening; his mother tucked him into bed, and upon placing a goodnight kiss to his forehead, would fall to the floor once again. Only this time, she could not be brought back. And thus he learned that he could never touch a resurrected life, or they would die permanently. It meant he could never pet Sven again. It meant that his mother and Anna’s father became unwitting, and unfortunate, consequences of his gift.

At their respective parent’s funerals, happening just mere feet from each other, Kristoff and Anna, overcome with grief and puppy love, would have their first and only kiss.

Immediately following his mother’s funeral, officials from the state would collect Kristoff and take him away from his life, while Anna would remain in the house across the street from his, with her mother and sister. Kristoff would avoid any and all social attachments, fearing what he’d do if someone else he loved died.

Little did he know, fifteen years later, his life would be turned upside down yet again. 

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At the age of twenty-five, Kristoff would find himself in the midst of an unusual business arrangement. Now the owner of a run-down, failing musical instrument shop, and lonely as ever, a chance encounter with a private detective would change his life once again. 

Though Kristoff managed to keep his deep secret to himself for nearly a decade and a half, luck would find him in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the alley behind his shop, as he was throwing out garbage, a man would practically fall from the sky - technically, from the roof of the building - and hit his head on the edge of the dumpster. As luck would have it, the dead man would brush against Kristoff and return to life. Unfortunately for the now undead man, he wouldn’t get to live much longer, as Kristoff was constantly reminded of the two caveats to his gift. Unwilling to have a random person in proximity die, with another simple touch the undead man was once again dead. Unfortunately for Kristoff, there was another man on the roof who witnessed the entire thing - Private Detective Olaf Olson.

“So, how long have you been a necromancer?” The detective asked, once they reconvened inside Kristoff’s empty shop.

Kristoff anxiously rubbed the palms of his hands along the sides of his pants and shook his head. “I’m not a necromancer - at least, I don’t think I am. Is that what I am? Oh god.”

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “How long have you been able to raise the dead?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, my whole life?”

“And nobody ever thought to have you tested? Or send you off to the circus?”

“Nobody else knows - except you. And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Mhmm,” Olaf agreed, sucking in his lower lip and giving Kristoff a scrutinizing glare. He motioned around the shop. “How’s business around here, boss?”

“Um, it’s fine,” he answered, nervously.

“Doesn’t seem to be too busy.”

“I mean, it’s not but...it’s fine.”

Olaf raised a hand to his face. “Well, the good news is that I have a business proposal for you.”

Kristoff’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Yeah?”

“You see, everyday in this city, dead people turn up. Sometimes, these people are murdered without an idea as to who killed them. And when this happens, there’s usually a reward for figuring out who the killer is - a big reward. I get us in to see the body, you take advantage of your party trick, and we split the reward fifty-fifty.”

And so, they did. It was easy, albeit dirty, money. The arrangement itself was rather simple; Olaf was made aware of the terms and conditions, and normally the “transactions” went smoothly. The two men were awarded privacy in the morgue, so long as the coroner was paid off, and Kristoff would set his watch for sixty seconds, ask the deceased who killed them, and then promptly return them to being dead. For a few months, it worked really well, and Kristoff was able to keep his struggling business afloat. He was able to justify it all because it brought justice to the bad people of the world. Until the winter morning that everything got flipped on its head. 

It was a quiet day in January, and Kristoff was sitting in his apartment, which was situated above his shop. The television was on in the background as he lounged on the couch with a bowl of cereal, his dog Sven on the floor a few feet away. Suddenly, the tone of the news program changed to alert its viewers of breaking news.

“The body of a young woman has been found in a snow bank directly outside of a popular ski resort,” the news reporter announced. “While her name is being withheld at this time, it has been confirmed that she was traveling alone at the time of her death. Officials are still unsure if foul play was involved, or if this was some kind of tragic accident.”

Kristoff’s attention was immediately drawn to the unnamed dead woman. For some reason he couldn’t explain, he had an icy, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach about her. And sure enough, later that day, all of his fears would be confirmed. 

It was nearing mid-afternoon when Olaf walked into his empty shop. He was sitting on a stool behind a counter, when the other man walked up and placed a folded newspaper on the counter.

“How’s it going, pal?”

“It’s going,” Kristoff answered, glancing down at the paper. 

“You've been keeping up with the news?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “It’s all about that dead girl.”

“Cops think she was murdered - no idea who did it, though. Autopsy said she was suffocated, so she was already dead when they put her in the snow. Big reward.”

“Yeah?” He asked, feigning aloofness.

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “Are you playing stupid?”

“No, why would you think that?”

“Because I just told you that the dead girl was probably murdered and that there was a lot of money to find her killer, and you’re the only one who can find out who that bastard is.”

Kristoff stared blankly at the other man.

“The clock is ticking. They’re hauling her body to the cemetery today.”

“So soon?”

“No friends, one family member. No point in letting her fester. Are you in or not?”

“Do I have a choice?” Kristoff asked drily.

“Good answer. Now let’s get moving, we have a long drive and you need to change your clothes.”

He glanced down at his outfit before standing up and walking around the counter. “Where are we going, exactly?”

“A small town called Arendelle.”

He swallowed, unsure if he heard the detective correctly. “Arendelle?”

“Yeah, are you familiar with it?” Olaf asked, picking his newspaper up off of the counter, folding it up, and tucking it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. 

Kristoff nodded. “I grew up there. Until I was ten.”

“Well, I hope you’re ready to go back.”

“Do you…?” he started, then trailed off. He was almost afraid to ask.

The other man looked at him pointedly. “Do I what?”

“Her name,” he spit out. “Do you know her name?”

“Anna Andersen.” He pronounced the first “A” in her name incorrectly; pronouncing it like the “a” in “apple” instead of like the “a” in “alms.”

“Anna,” he whispered, correcting the other man’s pronunciation.

The detective cocked an eyebrow. “You know her?”

“She lived across the street from me,” he answered, simply. It wasn’t enough to convince the other man.

“Seems like she was more than just a neighbor.”

“I haven’t seen her since I was ten,” he shrugged, though a profuse blush was spreading across his cheeks.

“Mmhmm,” Olaf acknowledged, though he remained unconvinced. “Well, we better get moving. 

And the next thing Kristoff knew, they were on the road. He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up driving, though he was grateful for the distraction. His mind was spinning; he couldn’t believe that she was gone, forever, and worse, that he was going to be forced to have one measly minute with her when he selfishly wanted more. He wasn’t even sure if she’d remember him after so much time had passed - perhaps if she didn’t, it would make it easier on him. And then there was the other problem - should he mention that he’s the reason her father died?

His heart started palpitating as they drove past the cheerfully colored “Welcome to Arendelle” sign, and it only worsened as they pulled up in front of the funeral home. It was so loud that he was positive that Olaf could hear it. 

He was overcome with a wave of nausea as he stood unmoving by the car, staring up at the looming building. It wasn’t until Olaf, now a few feet ahead, cleared his throat and motioned for him to follow. He did, shoving his hands into his pockets. He watched as the detective handed the funeral director a wad of cash, and the two men were led to a room at the end of the hallway.

“Would you mind if I did this one alone?” Kristoff asked, once the funeral director was out of earshot. They hadn’t entered the room yet, and were standing in front of the still-closed door. “Because I knew her?”

“What could you possibly have to say to her that you can’t say in front of me?” Olaf shot back, obviously offended by Kristoff’s proposal. “We’re here to find out who killed her.”

“I know, but she was my friend,” he begged, a few beads of sweat starting to gather by his hairline. “I could use the closure.”

“Fine,” Olaf grumbled. “But you better ask who killed her first.”

“I will.”

“And remember, you have one minute. Not a second longer.” His tone was stern, and he raised a finger as a warning.

“I know the rules,” Kristoff assured him. “Wait in the car?”

Olaf muttered something under his breath, but willingly walked away from the situation. Kristoff held his breath and pushed open the door to the room; it was small, and in the center was a shiny white casket. He hesitantly approached it, trying to gain his composure. The entire thing was surreal; he felt like this was some kind of twisted dream. Acknowledging the fact that he didn’t have much time, he opened the casket and looked down.

She looked ethereal; just like he remembered, but obviously much older. She was wearing an off-white lace dress, her hair parted down the center and each half was neatly draped over her shoulders. Bile rose in his throat as he stared at her, unsure if he could do it. Though it would bring her killer to justice, he was also being selfish.

After another moment or two of looking at her, he decided it was time. He set the timer on his watch, slowly brought his trembling hand to her face, and delicately tapped her cheek with his index finger before taking a step back. She sucked in a breath of air and her eyes flew open. And then she jumped out of the casket.

“I’ll kill you!” She yelled, grabbing the first thing she could - which just so happened to be a candelabra off the fireplace next to the coffin.

“Anna, stop!” He begged, bringing his hands up to his face to protect it in case she decided to throw the candelabra at him. “It’s me - Kristoff - from across the street.”

The look of anger that had shrouded her face quickly faded away and a look of relief washed over her instead. Her hand went limp and the candelabra fell to the floor. “Kristoff.”

She took a few steps toward him with her arms reached forward, prepared to pull him into a hug. He stepped backwards, eventually colliding with the wall. “You can’t touch me,” he warned. 

“Oh.” Her arms fell to her sides and she glanced over at the coffin. “That’s mine isn’t it?”

He swallowed. “Yes. Do you know what happened?”

“I mean, I was hoping that it was all a dream. That I wasn’t suffocated to death with a pillow.”

“You were,” he frowned. “I’m really sorry.”

She blinked a few times, placing a hand on the edge of the casket, but she didn’t say anything.

So, he spoke again. The clock was ticking. “While there’s a lot I’m sure we both want to say, we have less than a minute. So, I have to ask - do you know who killed you, Anna?”

She shook her head, her eyes cast downward. “I don’t - I was sleeping. I didn’t wake up until the pillow was over my face. I’m sorry.”

Kristoff exhaled harshly, feeling defeated. They wouldn’t be able to bring her killer to justice. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“How much time do I have left?”

He glanced down at his watch. “Forty seconds, give or take.”

She gave him a sad smile. “That’s not enough, I have so much to say. All those years, I wondered what happened to you. You just disappeared. I kept hoping that you would come back, but...you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, I -” he was trying to find the words, but it was difficult. He had so much that he wanted to say. None of this was fair. “The state took me away and sold the house.”

“Well, since I don’t have much time left, I just want you to know that I missed you a lot. And I never stopped thinking about you.”

“I never stopped thinking about you, either,” he confessed. “Life just...wasn’t the same without you.”

“I wish things would’ve worked out differently,” she sighed. “My time is almost up, isn’t it?”

He took another look at his watch before nodding solemnly. Twenty-five seconds.

“I’m glad that you were the last person I got to see before...you know.” She huffed a nervous laugh. “Um, if it’s not too much, could you tell my sister that I’m sorry? And that I love her?”

“Of course,” he promised, though he wasn’t sure if Elsa would be keen to visitors. 

“And I hope this isn’t too forward, considering we haven’t seen each other in so long, but I want you to know that I always had feelings for you, and they never went away.”

“Me too,” he said, quickly, a blush creeping over his face. “I mean, my feelings for you never went away, either.”

“How does this work?” She asked. “You just touch me again, and that’s it?”

“Yeah,” he answered, wishing that it wouldn’t have to be this way.

She nodded once, inhaling deeply. “Okay.”

He took a slow step toward her. They had less than ten seconds left now. 

“You could kiss me,” she blurted out suddenly. “That probably sounds crazy but it would bookend everything. You would be my first kiss and my last kiss.”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he nodded, willing to grant her her dying wish. She closed her eyes, and he leaned down, ready to press his lips to hers and then promptly catch her limp body. But instead, he took a step backwards.

She opened her eyes and looked over at him. “What are you doing? Isn’t my minute up?”

Though he was grotesquely aware of the consequences, he had already made his decision. He didn’t want to live his life without her, as selfish as that was. “What if you didn’t have to die?”

“That would definitely be preferable,” she said, a look of relief washing over her features. 

“Okay, look, I’m not supposed to do this because there are grave consequences,” he said in one quick breath. “But I can’t just let you die, again.”

“What are the consequences?”

He closed his eyes, ashamed to admit the truth. “Someone else has to die in your place.”

Her face fell. “Oh.” 

“But it’s already too late,” he assured her, waving his hands rapidly. “I know it’s selfish of me, but I’m not ready to let you go.”

The corners of her lips quirked up slightly. “I’m not ready to let you go, either.”

“Great,” he huffed a sigh of relief. “We have a lot to talk about, though. And we have to get out of here.”

“I can’t just walk out of here,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I’m supposed to be dead.”

He glanced rapidly around the room. “The casket. You have to get back inside.”

“Okay,” she agreed, climbing back in.

“Now, just lay really still,” he directed her. “I’m going to follow the hearse to the cemetery.”

She nodded, and he closed the lid. Wiping the sweat off of his brow, he hastily opened the door and raced out of the funeral home. As expected, Olaf was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, reading his newspaper.

“How did it go?” The detective asked, as soon as Kristoff hopped into the car.

“Uh, it went well.”

Olaf cocked his head. “Did you find out who killed her?”

“No, she didn’t know,” he answered, as he started the car.

“Of course not,” the detective groaned. “Did you get your closure, at least?”

He was staring at his rearview mirror, trying to catch the moment the hearse pulled away from the building. “Sort of.”

“Why aren’t you driving?”

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to go to the cemetery and see the burial.” 

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, sorry. It shouldn’t take long.” 

“I knew I should’ve driven,” he sneered, unable to hide his annoyance.

A few moments later, the hearse was driving down the street and Kristoff was following closely behind. The cemetery was a short drive away, and because no one was going to be attending the burial, that in itself was going to be quick. He had to come up with a plan.

The two men sat in the car and watched as the casket was brought over to the plot of land where it was going to be buried. Finally, Kristoff got out of the car and walked over, just in time to see it get lowered a few feet into the ground. 

“Hey,” he said to the gravediggers, who turned their attention away from the shovels in their hands. He pointed towards the entrance of the cemetery. “There were some kids near the front. I think they were defacing one of the stones.”

The two men quickly dropped their shovels and raced toward the pickup truck parked a few feet away from Kristoff’s car. As soon as they drove off, he got onto the ground and opened the lid to the casket.

“Thanks for coming back,” Anna smiled.

“After all that, you thought I was going to just leave you here?”

“No,” she giggled. “I’m just really happy you came back.”

He smiled down at her. “Come on, we have to go.”

He wished he could help her out, but luckily, it wasn’t a difficult climb. As soon as she was back on the grass, he closed the lid to the casket. 

“My car is right over there,” he said, pointing at the old car. He still hadn’t decided how he was going to explain this to Olaf, but it didn’t matter at this point. It was already done.

She squinted at it. “Is someone in your car?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s Olaf. He’s my...business partner?” What he also hadn’t thought of was that he was going to have to explain who Olaf was to her and the unorthodox partnership that they had arranged. He decided to cross that bridge when they came to it.

The two of them climbed into the car, Kristoff in the driver’s seat and Anna in the backseat. Upon hearing both doors close, the formerly distracted Olaf turned his attention to the new passenger, and then to Kristoff.

“Kristoff,” he said, a fake smile plastered across his face. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Anna,” she answered cheerfully.

The fake smile remained. “Why is the dead girl in your car and not in the ground?” 

“I needed closure,” Kristoff shrugged.

“Your closure was supposed to last sixty seconds.”

“To be fair,” Anna chimed in, “there is a lot of history here. A minute wasn’t long enough.”

Kristoff nodded along with her statement.

The detective was seething. “Does she know about the terms and conditions that came along with her newfound gift of life? That someone else died in her place?”

“She’s aware,” Anna answered, referring to herself in third person. “She’s not thrilled about it, but she’s extremely grateful that she’s alive.”

“And you both acknowledge that I could’ve been the one to die in her place, right?”

“That’s why I asked you to wait in the car,” Kristoff explained.

“You were planning on doing this all along?!”

“No! Yes? I don’t know, I wanted options!” He exclaimed, starting to feel a little flustered. “Look, it’s over. I’m going to start driving now, we all need to go home and sleep on this.”

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

The drive back was a lot tamer than the few minutes they spent sitting in the cemetery. Olaf spent most of the drive muttering to himself, clearly upset that he could’ve been a casualty of Kristoff’s impulsivity. Once they reached the music shop, well past dark, Olaf parted ways without saying a word to either of them, and Kristoff brought Anna upstairs to his apartment. As soon as they entered, Sven perked his head up.

“Oh, you have a dog!” She exclaimed, rushing over to him and immediately dropping to her knees. “He looks just like Sven.”

“That is Sven,” he said, dropping his keys on the small table by the front door.

“You saved him, too?”

“He was the first,” Kristoff explained. “That’s how I…found out about all of this.”

“I see,” she said, smothering the dog with pets and kisses. “You can’t touch him either?”

He stood on the opposite side of the room, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. “No. But, um, we kind of have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, we do,” she agreed, looking over at him. “So I can’t touch you at all, right?”

He shook his head. “No. Even the slightest touch would mean that you die permanently.”

“No hugs?”

“No hugs,” he answered.

“But what if you need a hug?” She looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“I haven’t hugged anyone in years, I think I’ll be okay.”

“Fine, what if I need a hug?”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry?” Was all that he could offer.

“And that means no kisses, too, right?”

He shook his head again, suddenly aware that the tips of his ears were burning. “No kisses.”

“Darn,” she said, softly, gently stroking Sven’s fur.

“You can stay here as long as you want,” he promised. “It’ll take a little getting used to, but I’d love the company. Or, you can leave. It’s your second chance at life and you can live it however you want to.”

“Don’t be silly,” she cooed. “I don’t want to leave. The last time I had the desire to leave somewhere, I literally died.” She annunciated each syllable in the world “literally” as if to stress the importance of its meaning. 

“I just don’t want you to think that you’re obligated to stay,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders. “You can have my bed until we can figure out some kind of a sleeping arrangement.”

“I wish sharing was an option,” she said absently, continuing to focus on the dog. “But you don’t have to give up your bed for me.”

“I insist,” he said. He walked over to the couch and plopped down on it. “I’m so tired, I’m just going to stay right here.”

“You’re still wearing your suit,” she pointed out.

“Don’t care. I know you don’t have a change of clothes with you, so feel free to wear something of mine.”

“You want me to go through your drawers?”

“Don’t know what you’d be comf…” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed, unable to finish the sentence.

Anna couldn’t help but smile at him; he certainly didn’t look comfortable laying on the couch like that, but she could only imagine how drained he felt.

But an hour later, she, too, would feel incredibly drained. She had yet to change out of the dress she was supposed to be buried in, and was sitting on the edge of Kristoff’s bed, watching television. The entire situation was difficult for her to wrap her head around, and it didn’t help that nearly every station was covering her story. She was grateful that Elsa had chosen a photo to release where she didn’t quite look like herself; a photo from when she was nineteen and had dyed her hair blonde. She was glad that it had been five years and the blonde was gone and she hoped that the world wouldn’t recognize her as the “dead girl” if she went out into it. 

She had never expected to see her own face on television in such a morbid, dismal way. Dubbed a “lonely tourist,” a part of her regretted ever venturing out to that ski resort in the first place. She wished she would’ve been content with the life she was living; just her and Elsa, in their childhood home. Reading books and tending to her garden, but always craving something more. She wondered how Elsa had been coping with all of this; she never ventured out of the house, due to her rampant fear of social situations. Anna was practically her caretaker, and now she’d have no one. She wished she could see her sister again. She wished she’d never left in the first place. 

Snapping out of her daydream and turning her attention back to the TV, the news reporters were now talking about how her murderer was still on the lam, and the large reward for information pertaining to the case. Upon hearing about the reward, she had a flashback to the viewing room; one of the first things that Kristoff had asked her was if she knew who murdered her. Was he out for the reward money? And the man in his car, Olaf, his “business partner.” What type of business were they running? Suddenly feeling very restless and alone, she turned off the television and went back into the living room.

She perched herself on the coffee table, a safe distance from the couch, and grabbed the remote. Gently, she poked Kristoff’s arm with it.

“Kristoff?” She whispered.

“Huh?” He stirred, his eyes barely opening. He wiped at his mouth and sat up slightly. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really,” she lied, but then decided honesty was more valuable. “Well, maybe a little. They were talking about me on TV.”

“What were they saying?”

“They’re calling me a ‘lonely tourist.’ They’re not wrong, but it’s weird.”

He was now wide awake, focusing solely on her. “I can only imagine.”

“Apparently there’s a big reward for finding the person who murdered me.”

The color drained from his face when she said that. “Yeah?”

She inhaled deeply. “You said Olaf was your business partner. What kind of business do you two run?”

“I have the music shop right downstairs,” he admitted, though it was a half-truth. That wasn't what she was asking.

“And Olaf?”

“He’s a private detective.”

“I guess I should just come out and say it,” she said, slightly frustrated at his hesitance. “Was I an opportunity for monetary gain?”

His eyebrows furrowed together. “Pardon?”

“The reward money. In that first minute, you made it a point to ask me who killed me. Was it for the reward money?”

“No!” He insisted. “It was for justice. I mean, the only reason I found out that it was you was because of Olaf and the reward. I had already agreed to go before he told me that it was you.”

“So, your business is to go to funerals, wake the dead, find out who killed them, and collect the reward money?”

“Yeah,” he answered sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Are you mad at me?”

She blinked. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to be mad when I’m sitting here in front of you and I should be six feet under.”

“I swear, I only go in with good intentions. To see justice be served. Killers behind bars. The reward money is a bonus; it’s how I keep the music shop in business.”

Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

“Don’t be - it’s a little shady. The entire thing was Olaf’s idea. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and he saw me accidentally bring a man back to life and then immediately re-dead him. If he hadn’t seen me, I’d just be a guy with an ability that no one else knows about.”

“And I’d be in the ground,” she added.

He huffed out a nervous laugh. “Yeah.” 

“Part of me wishes that I’d never gone to that stupid ski resort. Why did I have to hate my life? Why couldn’t I just be satisfied with the life I had?”

He paused briefly before responding. “I think it’s natural for us to want to try new things.”

“I feel bad for my poor sister. She barely functioned when I was home, and she warned me about leaving, and now she thinks that I’m dead.” She buried her face in her hands.

“What about your mother?”

“She died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

She pulled her hands away from her face and ran her fingers through her hair. “You wouldn’t have known. Please don’t think that I’m not happy to be here, because I really am thrilled to be alive and with you, and I’m not taking any of this for granted. It just feels so...strange. Confusing.”

He nodded in agreement. “It will be an adjustment for both of us. There’s still a lot we have to talk about.” The truth about her father was one of the things that he knew he’d have to bring up eventually, though he was absolutely dreading the thought of it.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I just needed someone to talk to.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her, laying back against the couch. “But you should try to get some sleep. It was kind of a crazy day for you.”

She placed her hands flat on her thighs for a minute before standing up. “Thank you again for rescuing me, today.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “And Anna? I just want you to know that I’d make the same decision again in a heartbeat. No doubt in my mind.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “Goodnight, Kristoff.”

“Goodnight.”

And so she retreated to his bedroom, keeping her dress on and laying on top of his sheets. She still felt a bit restless, and so she turned to face the wall on the left side of the bed, lifted up her left arm and pressed her palm flatly against it.

Just on the other side of the wall, Kristoff had turned to face the inside of the couch. Unable to sleep and unaware that Anna was doing the same, he raised his right arm and placed his hand against the wall.

Unbeknownst to either of them, without the wall as a barrier of protection, their hands would be touching.

[bluedraggy]

How I Color in Photoshop

I’ve been asked before how I do coloring. I hesitate to call this a tutorial as that implies this is the RIGHT way to do it. Instead, this is just how I do it. My image is a bit risque, but I think Tumblr will be okay with it.  This assumes you already have a drawing saved as some sort of file that can be opened in Photoshop. The principal is the same in about every program, but the specifics of how to do things are different. So I’m starting with this:

(BTW, if the images are too small, try right-clicking and Open In New Tab. Seems to show a bigger image.)

So first off, you may need to change the mode to RGB to work with it. I’ve opened the file here and am changing the mode to RGB. (Edit > Mode > RGB). Once that’s done, we can start working with adding a flat color, a soft shade and a shine layer to it. That’s what I’ll be up to here.

Next, I like to make the line layer editable, so I click the little lock icon there. By default when you do this it will name it Layer 0. That’s fine. If you’re anal you can change it to Line Layer or something.

Next I’m changing the Line Layer to Multiply. This is pretty critical. You can do it from the top menu there, or there’s a place just above the layer name (where we Unlocked earlier) too. Either does the same thing. As best I understand, Multiply says to combine other layers with this layer So when we color, the white areas will be colored, the black lines won’t be.

Now I’m adding a new layer that my flat colors will “live” on. It can be a Normal layer since it’s going UNDER the line layer and nothing needs be seen underneath it.

Okay, you can see my new layer on the bottom right I named Flat Color. That’s where our actual colors will be painted. (or more accurately, PENCILED!). You can drag layers above and below each other there, and this layer needs to be under the line layer. I used to make this the Multiply layer and had the line layer underneath it. That works, but will lead to issues later on as you learn to do more layers, so best to just always keep the line layer on top and MOST other layers under it.

Last step before we get to work. I do NOT paint flat colors with a paintbrush. I use a PENCIL. Because the pencil tool is pixel-perfect. That is, there’s no soft edges on a pencil line. Each pixel is either fully colored, or it’s not at all. Even the hardest brushes still have bleed over from pixel to pixel. The size of the pencil really depends on the size of the lines in the line art, but typically I set it at about 5 pixels. That’s pretty small, but lets me get into tight places. I’ve seen others do this differently - but this isn’t about them. It’s how I do it.

Time to zoom in and get coloring. I’ve chosen my color. Obviously this pencil is bigger than 5 pixels, but I wanted it to be clear what I’m doing. I’m drawing with my pencil right into the line itself. If I stray outside, I use the eraser (ALSO SET TO PENCIL SO IT ERASES PIXEL PERFECT) and keep the edge of the color underneath the black lines. I don’t care about the other side because Flood Fill/Paint Bucket will handle that later.

Here I’ve finished drawing the color inside her butt cheek, keeping the edge under the black lines. In practice I’d have gone on to everything that needs to be colored with the same flat color, but keeping this simple. Now I’m switching to Flood Fill/Paint bucket and am going to fill in the rest with one click. It normally will fill the entire section pixel-perfect, though sometimes around very tight angles it may miss a few. Those I fix with a pencil directly.

Bang! Butt cheek filled with a solid flat color. Now draw the rest of the damn owl. No, but seriously I will do this for the entire character with the various colors I want. For her I did this color for her body, a pinkish color for the tail and nose, a white and a green for the eyes. But there’s another advantage of doing this - I can select entire body parts by just selecting the Flat Color layer and use the magic wand to select everything that is that one color. Trust me, that’s a real benefit. You can get stylish later on, but having this flat layer is still awfully handy to keep FLAT.  Okay. On to shading. Notice I now have a 3rd layer in between the Line and the Flat layers. It’s where I’m going to do Soft Shading. I also put it in between the line and flat layers, and I set the layer type again to MULTIPLY. Because I do want the flat colors showing through it.

Now I’m getting ready for soft shading. I almost always you a greyish-purple color for shading. For me, it just seems to work the best. I know there are more intricate things, but this is a basics lesson. Another thing, when doing Soft Shading, I use a HUGE paintbrush set to the softest possible setting. Typically the brush spans the entire size of the body part I’m painting. I also SELECT just the part I’m shading. Sometime that takes some patience with the lasso tool, sometimes you get lucky and can just use the Flat layer to select, then move back to the Soft Shade layer. The important thing is to select only the part you are going to shade. You’ll have to do it over again on the other parts. Ideally the separation between the body parts will be a nice line you can hide the transition inside of. Othewise the Smudge tool is your friend to correct small mistakes in shading.

HUGE soft round brush. I think I used about 400px here. But the important part is, you don’t even put the center of the brush inside the section you’re shading! The shading is done with the edge of the brush. Essentially you’re almost doing a gradient.

Zoomed out with a nice soft shading. I did use a similarly soft eraser to work it back a little too.

BONUS! Notice the new layer? SHINE layer!  I put it above the soft shade. Really I’d probably do a hard shade layer in as well, done similarly to the soft shade in the same color but with a smaller, harder edged brush and just in limited places.

But I want to show the MAGIC of COLOR DODGE!  That’s what my Shine layer is set to. Essentially if you color in black, nothing changes. If you color in a grey, it lightens the colors underneath. If you color in white, no matter the underlaying color, you get white.  There are other blending types that work similarly but I just like the effect of color dodge best.

Also, note the color I’m chosing. It’s ALMOST black (which would result in no change). It takes only a very small bit of not-black to make a big difference. Going to give that cheek a highlight. First, with a soft brush at maybe 40px.

What a difference a little dot makes!!! Now that cheek’s really popping out!  The type of brush used when making a highlight makes a big difference too. I do tend to overdo this, I know - but I like it! I can’t help myself!  One last thing - what if I use a hard-edge brush instead of soft for the highlight?

Same size brush, but now its hard edged highlight. Really the softness (or other texture used) defines the kind of surface it’s on. The soft looks more natural, esp. on skin. The hard edge looks more like rubber/latex surface. (Neither look like rat fur, but sometimes you don’t care!)

That’s it. This is how I do stuff. Plenty of other things I could have mentioned. Reflection layer is a biggie. I like to do both soft and hard shading too. Eyes of course. Nothing makes a picture shine like good eyes. And then there’s what I truly call Highlights - a layer that goes on top of the line layer, so it can obscure even the lines. Backgrounds, which I’m not very good at but I almost always do them anyway because I like pictures that define a place and time as well as just a character. Shadows (as opposed to shading) which is frankly an art form in itself. But I’ve already put in more pictures of a rat butt than Tumblr is happy with so I’ll end it here.

[galaxiia-quean]

ocean eyes [1]

THE FLAT WAS BATHED IN LIGHT, streaming through the open windows. Ethan couldn’t recall a time in which he’d slept past five in the morning, always being up before the first rays of sun. He padded across the living room, following the music drifting from the kitchen.

He leaned on the door frame, a smile spreading on his face at the sight before him. His beloved girlfriend danced around the room, his white shirt draping over her thighs. Ethan approached her, brushing his lips on the silky slope of her neck as she finished serving breakfast. An involuntary giggle escaped her, his beard tickling the sensitive skin.

“Morning, love.” He twirled her, properly kissing her. Nora smiled against his mouth, tracing the outline of his bare muscles.

“I made coffee and waffles.”

“Perfect.” Ethan lightly squeezed her waist, drawing a short laugh from her.

They ate mostly in silence, relishing in the peacefulness. A comfortable hush enveloped them with the occasional discreet glance at each other. The easiness of their relationship never ceased to amaze him. Nora was perhaps equally as reserved as him — even though her amiability and patience ran deeper than his — and understood those rare moments of quietude were invaluable whereas his previous partners failed to comprehend the concept.

He admired most her way of appreciating the little things which the rest of the universe tragically neglected. Ethan supposed he was a part of that category. Although, he was beginning to warm up to Nora’s methods. He hadn’t been particularly superstitious until he met her and yet nowadays he found himself subconsciously knocking on wood and avoiding to cross under ladders. She changed his life for the better and he couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Ethan ran a hand through his mussled hair and deftly cleaned the dirty porcelain, wiping his hands on a nearby cloth when he was done. Nora squealed excitedly when the pop tune playing on her phone came to an end and swiftly transitioned into a kizomba ballad. Ethan recognized it as one of her favourite.

“Eth, dance with me.” Nora pleaded, beaming.

He complied to her request, a dimpled smile rising on his cheeks as he wrapped an arm around her, pressing their hips flush together. He intertwined their fingers, kissing her temple. Nora sighed contentedly, snuggling into his chest as he lead, expertly swaying along to the song.

Ethan rested his chin on top of her head, murmuring the words in a soft hum. His accent flowed smoothly after years of practice.

“My heart melts when you speak Portuguese.” Nora commented, the corner of her lips quirking upward. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised you’re so well-versed in it.

He gave a casual shrug. “It’s a beautiful language.”

“It sure is.” She agreed, reluctantly detaching herself from him as the last notes faded. “And we sure have lives to save, today.”

“It’s a rather beautiful day, isn’t it, Shepherd?” Ethan teased, pressing his lips to hers in a sweet kiss.

“I’m so glad I persuaded you to watch Grey’s.”

“Persuaded? I believe “pestered” is the correct term.” He laughed, disappearing into his bedroom.

They were careful to part ways before reaching the hospital, cautious of arousing suspicion. The diagnostics team gathered in the lobby, where Ethan assigned each of them a department, instructing them to update him throughout their shift.

Nora made her rounds in the pediatric wing, cheering the children up with jokes and the small batch of chocolates she always carried in her purse. Most of them had been milling about in the playroom and coaxed her into a game of Pictionary, which she promptly lost due to her dreadful drawing skills.

It was nearing lunch time when she entered the room of Amelia Bailey.

She frowned when she found the young girl entertaining herself with loose domino pieces. Amelia’s face lit up when she saw her favourite doctor, a bright smile replacing the sad grimace.

“Nono!”

Her scowl melted into a soft mien. She set the chart aside, allowing the child to hug her, and gently pinched her chubby cheeks, eliciting a contagious giggle from the six-year-old.

“How are you feeling, baby?” She sat on the edge of her bed, caressing the side of her face.

Amelia shrugged noncommittally. “Fine.”

“That’s good.” Nora lowered her chin, meeting the girl’s eyes. “Where are your parents?”

“They fought again. Mom went back home and dad went to work.”

The physician paused, exhaling deeply and struggling to contain the anger from her face. She averted her gaze and counted to three. Amelia’s grip on her hand tightened.

“They won’t answer if you call. Mom drinks when she’s mad and dad doesn’t use his phone at work,” Amelia said in a small voice, staring at her lap. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

“Is there no one else we could call?” At her silent shake of head, Nora conceded. “Then you can stay.” ‘I’ll have to inform child services’.

The nurses’ station was chaotic to say the least. There had been a massive collapse in an office building down the street and the hospital’s emergency and operating rooms were the most occupied they’d ever been. Nearly all nurses had been dispatched, leaving only two per station.

Danny greeted her, waving his hand. He was slumped on one of the chairs, a disarray of charts and laboratory results laying on the desk.

“What can I do for you, Nora?”

“I need you to call child services.” The doctor sighed, leaning on the counter. “Amelia Bailey, room 404. Her parents were arguing in her room until her stepfather left for work. Amelia told me we shouldn’t bother trying to reach her mother because she’s drinking and won’t answer the phone.”

He frowned. “Okay. By the way, here are the results from Sam Washington’s scans.”

Nora accepted the chart with a grateful nod and turned to leave. Her path was obstructed by a tall man with a charming smile. She raised expectant eyebrows, returning the gesture somewhat bemusedly.

“I apologize for bothering, miss, but it appears I’m lost. Could you be so kind to tell me where the cafeteria is?”

“On the ground floor, it’s easy to find. The elevator is down this hall and to the right.”

His smile grew. “Thank you very much, miss!”

Nora resumed her duties, and caught a glimpse of Ethan inside a patient’s room. From his posture, she deducted he was delivering bad news to the parents of the little boy; his shoulders were set in a straight line, arms folded and jaw clenched.

He ruffled the child’s hair before exiting the room, not entirely surprised to see her waiting for him.

“Hey.” He leaned on the wall, glancing around. “How’s Amelia Bailey?”

“Good to go, except for the fact no one is here to take her home,” Nora replied in a sharp tone.

Concern flashed in his icy blues. Nora rarely allowed her annoyance to shine through, maintaining a cool composure at all times.

“Danny called child services,” she continued, her hand brushing his, seeking the comfort his touch could easily provide.

“Good.” His eyes narrowed at something behind her right shoulder. “I’m sure Amelia is feeling lonely cooped up in her room. Why don’t you let her out for a walk?”

Her brow furrowed. “What is it, Ethan?”

He met her questioning stare, squeezing her hand. His expression softened into an adoring smile, though Nora saw right through it. The uneasiness in his blue depths alarmed her, the pressure of his digits digging into the back of her hand resulting in a pit of anxiousness building in her stomach.

“There’s a man in those visitor chairs in the corner who never left this wing. I’ve seen him linger outside of Amelia’s room when she was alone and sleeping. Maybe I’m being paranoid, maybe I’m not. I don’t want to take any risks either way. There’s a lounge at the end of this corridor where some interns relax during their breaks. Pretend like everything is fine and take Amelia there.”

His façade never fell. Ethan bent forwards as if to kiss her cheek and his warm breath blew gently on her skin.

“Be careful.”

Nora gulped, dropping the chart back at the station and shoving her trembling hands inside the pockets of her white coat. Amelia didn’t seem to notice her distress, following her dutifully outside and excitedly blabbering about her favourite games while Nora refrained from looking over her shoulder. Ethan’s instincts were sharp as a knife and she had absolute trust in them, so she had no doubts that the man was most likely a danger to Amelia.

True to Ethan’s word, a few interns were mingling about in the lounge. Nora’s mind barely registered their presence. Amelia plopped herself on one of the couches while she changed the channel to a kids program the girl would enjoy.

The fear gnawing at her insides was unbearable and became even more pronounced when terrified shouts were heard outside the room. One of the interns got up to check the commotion and quickly closed the door, all colour draining from his face.

“There’s an armed guy outside. He’s holding Dr. Ramsey at gunpoint.”

Her heart stopped at those words. Amelia turned to her with frightened eyes and Nora shushed her, cradling her face.

“I want you to hide behind this couch, do you understand?” She shielded the child with her body, holding her hands behind her back.

Absolute silence engulfed them. Nora could hear the thundering rushing of her blood in her ears, blending with her rapid breaths and accelerated heartbeat. Never in her life had she been so terrified. Ethan was being held hostage and she could lose him at any moment.

Deafening screams exploded when the door was ripped off its hinges, revealing Ethan and the gunman. He scoured the room for her. Tears welled up in her eyes, seeing him so unusually scared, his hands raised and the barrel of a gun directly pointed at the back of his head.

He was shoved inside and quickly crawled to her side, chest rising and falling with adrenaline. Nora realised she’d seen that man, spoken to him just minutes before that whole situation. He scowled when he didn’t see his target, then noticed Nora shifting her weight to hide the child.

“Give me my daughter,” he growled, aiming the weapon at her chest.

“I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I won’t. She’s my daughter,” he snarled, waving the gun.

“That’s not a toy.” Ethan watched him closely, moving so he could protect both girls.

“Shut up.” The aim was back on him. “I told you, I won’t hesitate to shoot. I want my daughter. Let her come with me and no one gets hurt.”

“The police will be here soon,” Nora threatened, pushing Ethan aside. They were both strategically positioned to cover Amelia.

“You called child services on the whore and her guy. I’m the best option for Mia!” He shouted.

“I would daresay the best option for Amelia is someone who doesn’t charge into a hospital with a dangerous weapon.” Ethan’s voice was calm despite his offensive stance, prepared to protect his staff should the man snap.

“Get out of the way.” The criminal switched the gun’s aim between the couple.

Neither budged.

“Last warning.” His target was uncertain.

Nora pushed Amelia further behind the furniture.

“Move!”

The gunshot blasted across the lounge, booming in their ears. Blood pooled around the figure sprawled on the floor, crimson staining the whiteness of their coat.

@princess-geek ; @cordoniansqueen ; @universallypizzataco ; @galaxy-of-rosess ; @hatlley ; @valiantlychaoticbarbarian ; @teenytinymagician​ ; @lilyofchoices​ ; @angellwithoutname​ ; @perriewinklenerdie ; @radlovedreamer; @claudevonstruke ; @nyikondlovu ; @ifyouseekheart ; @hopelessromantic1352; @gingerjane15 ; @cordoniaqueensworld ; @paleweasels ; @fangirlingmum ; @usuallyamazinglyaverage ; @writinghereandthere ; @confessionsofabrokegirl; @regina-and-happiness ; @brightpinkpeppercorn ; @choicesyouplayandmore ; @timmagicktoad ; @zeniamiii​ ; @drakesensworld​ ; @ethanplaysfavorites​ ; @topsyturvy-dream​ ; @sharrybh20​ ; @cordoniansqueen​ ; @greek-elsa​ ; @drakewalkerfantasy​ ; @paisleylovergirl ; @faithhasnowords

[zayneternal]

《 lacuna (n.) 》

summary ↠ lacuna (n.) a blank space, a missing part. the way you feel knowing its only hours until Jungkook is supposed to fly across the world for the next 6 months of the busiest tour yet. for some reason you just can’t seem to pull yourself up from the couch cushions long enough to enjoy the time that’s left.

genre ↠ angst | idolverse  member ↠ jeon jungkook warnings ↠ none to note word count ↠ 2.9k

moodboard by @kickass-army

~

(I listened to “Turning Page” by Sleeping At Last and “Be Still” by The Fray while writing this. Feel free to try it yourself.) 

You clench the remote between the ensnarement of your digits, fingertips turning white against the stiff pressure. Your eyes remain trained on the program currently running, the jokes and jibes that usually have you a giggling mess now just empty noise, white and bland in the backdrop of your mind. The air in the room feels stagnant, too heavy upon your curled frame, the ceiling threatening to collapse on you any moment, though you abandon the urge to pull yourself up, stationary on the perch of the sofa. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there, ignoring the constant and incessant buzz of your phone against your thigh, the irking noise only padding the tense ball of lifeless weight that you’ve melded into today. After the umpteenth vibration, another signal of the cause of your distress attempting to reach you, you lift your device from the cushion of the couch and toss it onto the floor where the sound can’t frustratingly tempt you anymore. Your thumb lays against the volume button of the remote, driving the noise on the TV higher in hopes their voices will drown out the undying thoughts swimming in your head. 

Huffing with great effort, you allow your upright figure to fall sideways, half disappearing into the mess of tangled blankets and pillows you’ve surrounded yourself with, the feeling of the soft objects against your cold skin paling in comparison to the sensation of the warm body you’d rather be curled into. You shake your head, shoving your face into the pillow as you release a muted shriek, the pent up frustration being housed in your chest discharging any form of useable energy. 

The personalities on screen begin to prod at your patience, their loving and comical interactions leaving you green and twitching with the desire to change the channel if only the remote weren’t abandoned on the arm of the couch at your feet. Groaning, you tug the blanket lain atop your legs over your head, finding only a momentary solace in the safety of the darkness. 

Another round of buzzing sharpens against the floor, the intensity of the noise alerting you that the texts have stopped and the phone calls are now rolling in, not allowing one call cycle to finish before you’re being redialed. You flinch at the sound, your chest aching with the desire to reach out and give in to the yearning to loose yourself in the messages, finding peace in the words of want that you so long to hear. But giving in would be giving up, loosing the hours of hard work you’ve already put in to adjusting yourself to the seclusion. No matter how wanting you are to hear his voice or read his declarations, you know that by tomorrow they’ll both be far away phantoms, and you’ll be left to achingly witness your truest love pull away until it’s someone else’s phone he’s blowing up. By carving the distance yourself, you’re sure it’ll save you a lot of heartache when the time comes. 

You close your eyes, straining to absorb the white noise of the television instead of the endless vibrations, squeezing your lids together until the strain drains you entirely, allowing you to drift into the sweet oblivion of sleep. 

The sound of the front door slamming shut jolts you out of your slumber, your groggy face still hidden under the cover of the blanket. It takes you a moment to regain your bearings, the short rest leaving you more tired than before and with much less feeling in your limbs. Your numb brain flinches when you suddenly realize where you are and who just came inside. 

“Y/N? Are you here?” his voice echoes throughout the dorm, worry lacing his words. Clenching your palms against your chest, you try and shed the regrets of falling asleep instead pulling yourself together. You needed more time to get yourself under wraps, more time to wallow on the couch before he arrived, but more time is just something the two of you don’t have anymore. 

“I know you’re here somewhere, baby” he continues to call, the gentle and familiar cadence of his voice tempting you to rise from where you lay, though the weariness of your body refuses to accommodate you. “Please come out.” 

You remain still, the prickle behind your eyes unfeeling as you breathe. You hear his steps sound from a distance, roaming around the foyer, through the kitchen, and finally into the living room where your figure lays senseless and sore. Wiping your hands over the red puffs of your eyes in an attempt to recolor the evidence of this afternoon, you swallow hard, flinching as it scrapes the back of your throat. Hesitantly, while at the same ignoring the excited beat of your chest, you shove the cover off of you, pushing yourself up with shaky hands until your head peeks over the couch. 

You see him standing there, damp, jet black locks disheveled under the absentminded attentions of his long fingers, muscular and lithe frame cloaked in your favorite black hoodie that smells of him, and his sweet face stained with confusion as he finally sees you, stalling in the doorway at the scene. The tips of your fingers press into the back of the couch, desiring some sort of pressure release from the picturesque man before you, trying to memorize his front before you watch his back walk alway from you tomorrow. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook breathes, your name sounding like precious treasure spilling from his cupid’s lips. “You’re here.”

His voice is relieved, puffs of air visibly deflating his chest. “Yes,” is all you can manage to return, your own voice sounding smaller than it’s ever been. 

His face falls with caution, the heavy air descended around you probably very obvious to him. “Why’d you leave without telling me?” He sounds hurt, trying to cover his emotion with a placid expression. You knew he would react the way he did when you suddenly skipped out on their pre-performance rehearsal in the city today, calling and texting nonstop with worry. Your chest was ripping open as you left the venue, painful stinging roped back by your blinking lids, but seeing him there in the empty arena, bright, authentic, exuberant, and energetic all wrapped up with that eye squinting smile that spoke volumes was too much. It punched a deep-set sensation into your stomach, a creeping melancholy that made your insides begin to burn. A scene that you had witnessed so many times before suddenly shifted lights as the unavoidable reality of tomorrow loomed overhead. 

“Family emergency,” you lie straight-faced, unable to reveal the true origins of your disappearance to him. If he knew what you were feeling inside, it would make the imminent goodbye’s of tomorrow a death sentence. 

He nods slowly, his expression wary as he weighs your honesty. “Oh, is everything okay?” he asks gently, taking a step towards you.

“Everything’s fine,” you whisper, any louder than this verging on a break. 

Another step forward. “Are you okay?”

You swallow the lump threatening to lodge in your throat. “I’m fine.” 

He’s silent as he continues his agonizing pace in your direction, every step drawing like a marathon. You curl back, pulling the blanket around your body as his presence nears you, the thrumming in your rib cage igniting that annoying spark in your stomach. Your fingers dance along the fabric of the blanket, itching with every infinitesimal move to reach forward and close the remaining distance between Jungkook and you, but you refrain, clenching the hem of your shirt with the force to keep still. 

“I missed you,” he whispers, coffee irises glowing as they trace your face, causing your heart to thwack so painfully against your chest, you think it might burst. “I don’t perform the same when you’re not there.”

He smiles gently with a tender cloak to his words, intending to be sweet, but all it does is remind you once more that tonight was your last chance to be there for a long time. “I’m sorry,” you reply, internally contorting at the way his face seems to fall in response to your stony tone. 

“It’s fine,” he says quietly, his disposition wobbling at the unfamiliar treatment being extended by you. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” His lips twitch with a softening smile once more, and you drop your gaze, unable to radiate such blatant lies to this figure of perfection. There’s a pause of silence, the expanse of it feeling as if it’s dragging to infinity, but you just can’t seem to conjure up anything to say, the thousands of thoughts overflowing inside jumbling up as they spill into incoherent fragments. 

“You’re okay, right?” Jungkook’s hushed voice suddenly sounds from directly above you just before the gentle pads of his warm fingers fit themselves under the curve of your chin, stilling the trembling tightness of it that you hadn’t even felt manifest. You painfully allow him to tug your gaze back up to his, the nearness of his person wafting the numbing scent of his cologne into your nostrils, the blush red of his soft cheeks now visible. He looks even more radiant up close. He always has. You memorize the way his dewy complexion, dotted with the most diminutive blemishes, only adds character to the fine features of his angel’s face. Your eyes gaze at the fuzzy fall of dark tendrils across his forehead, framing the shape of him with a shadowed beauty. And always, always, you get caught on the perfect, blush lips jutting rudely into a plush pout.

You painstakingly gulp back the urge to fit your arms around his waist as he stands there, so unfairly close to you, making your attempts to remain steeled unnecessarily arduous. “Yes,” you mummer against his gaze, the way his soft and honest eyes are looking into yours filling you with a guilty sensation.  

“Because, to me, it doesn’t look like you’re okay.” The pad of thumb begins to trail a burning line back and forth across the skin just under your bottom lip, each repetition causing your fists to clench at your side. You bite the inside of your cheek, the pain of the action diluting some of what lies in your chest, though in either case, the uncomfortable ache insists on tugging against every nerve in your body, the pressure beginning to boil. 

Jungkook’s brow furrows with concern, the desperation in his eyes peeking through behind the gentle sympathy he’s studying you with. “Does this have anything to do with me leaving tomorrow?” he breathes carefully, his gaze searching yours as his face morphs sadly, already knowing he’s hit the nail on the head. 

His words spur something inside of you, the audible utterance of your reality causing the boiling pot of frustration and despondency in your stomach to finally run over, the stinging bubbles colliding with your vulnerable insides stirring up the prickle behind your lids. You feel your chin begin to quiver violently between Jungkook’s steady fingers, the rumbling throb in your throat clenching uncontrollably as the wave of hot tears begin to spill down your face, a silent sob ripping its way through your contorted lips. 

“Please don’t go,” you wrack, your eyes clamping shut with a red burn as your body goes limp, resting back on your folded legs, unable to do anything but sob like a child, soft wails pitching into the air. You wail louder as Jungkook’s fingers drop from their place on your chin, leaving you crestfallen and cold in the wake of his vacancy. 

“Jungkook,” you cry desperately, a hand raising and reaching to feel his form in front of you only to catch nothing but empty air. Your chest crumbling with the force of your tense tears, you drop your hand in defeat, preparing for all of your emotions to spill out in isolation, when you suddenly feel a weight descend next to you, the dip of couch causing you to fall longways into the waiting safety of Jungkook’s embrace. 

He wastes no time in tugging you into his lap, your bare thighs straddling around his waist as you cling to his found presence. Your hands fist themselves around the broad comfort of shoulders, digging into the fabric of his hoodie as you breathe in his scent for all it’s worth. You can’t seem to press yourself close enough to him, desiring to meld as one to quench your need of his nearness. Your solace is padded by the strong and expansive coil of his arms around your waist, wide palms pressing flat into the small of your back and the valley of your shoulder blades. You heave with sobs against him, not sure if the heated sensation of your body curled over his is soothing your pain or intensifying it. 

“I have to go, baby. There are so many people counting on us,” Jungkook whispers brokenly into your hair, his voice obviously taxed with his own clenched throat at the sight, sound, and sensation of you spent in his arms. 

Even though you know his words are logical and true, your body only wracks again, clenching him tighter in the hopes that if you hold tight enough, he’ll stay trapped here forever. “I c-can’t do this on my own,” you cry, burying your soaked face into his neck, your lips speaking against his collarbones. “It’s too hard.”

“Don’t you think this is hard for me, too?” he questions tenderly, the sincerity in his voice cutting you deep. “When I think about having to be away from you for 6 months...it kills me, Y/N.” 

His words break halfway through, the truth of what he’s saying finally breaking down his own walls that he’s spent the last few weeks hiding behind, unable, himself, to face the reality of walking away from you. Tour had been much easier in his younger years, before he met you, when he didn’t have anything to worry about leaving behind, but now that you’ve won his affections, walking away is the most volatile conflict of passion and love he’s ever undergone. 

“I miss you,” you choke out, hiccuping against his chest. 

“I haven’t left yet,” he murmurs, the ironic huff of laughter expelling gently into your hair. “I’m right here.”

“Watching you leave...I can’t get it out of my head. It feels like you’re already gone.”

Your words sting him, the brokenness of your honesty laying waste to his body as he squeezes you tighter, desperate to console the shaking mess of tears in his arms. “I’m not gone. I’m right here,” he repeats, gently stroking his wide hands up and down the slope of your spine, reveling in the warmth of you against him. He would rather take you bleary and honest on this last night over stone faced and restrained, your expulsion of emotions at least addressing the problem instead of pretending it doesn’t exist.  

“I want you tonight, Y/N. I don’t want tears or sadness, I just want you,” he confesses lowly, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to the line of your quivering jaw. “I want to hold you against me like this and remember the feeling of how soft you are.” His fingers trail and lethargic map along the skin of your thigh, gooseflesh following his digit like a puppy. “I want to memorize the shape of your face and the way your eyes close when you smile too hard. I want to play with your hair, tying it into knots that we both know I can’t undo, and listen to you laugh too loud when I try to do it anyway.” His hands palm soothing circles into your side as they slip under the hem of your shirt, desperate fingers kneading your newfound flesh with a loving touch. “I want to kiss you over and over again, so many times there’s no way I could ever forget the feeling, and just when I think I’ve got it, I want to kiss you again just because I can.” His honeyed lips find their way to your cheek, sponging delicate and sweet affection against your tear stained skin, pressing your head back until your face is parallel with Jungkook’s. His cocoa eyes are searching yours with a heavenly gloss, the sincerity of his admissions evident in the gleam of his irises. 

“I want to love you tonight, Y/N,” he finally states, lopsided lips parted with transfixed breaths. “I want to love you so much that when I do leave, it doesn’t even feel like I’m gone.” He leans into you unhurriedly, an intimate and fragile kiss brimming with the meaning of Jungkook’s words pressing against your lips. You melt against him, not desiring anything more from this perfect connection as you allow him to linger against your pout, the drying tears dripping from your weary eyes. By the time he pulls away, his forehead resting gingerly against yours, your body is calmed into an enraptured silence, the ardency of Jungkook’s affection instilling in you a peace that you haven’t felt for weeks. 

“Just promise me one thing,” you hiccup quietly, your hands caressing the soft strands of hair at the nape of Jungkook’s neck.

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll come back,” you say, glancing up to lock eyes with his already studying gaze. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Jungkook’s lips tug with a lazily sedated smile, his eyes closing as he leans forward to sweetly kiss your swollen lips once more. “If it’s not you, then it’s no one,” he agrees, the final settle of riled bubbles in your stomach coming to rest as he leans back, holding you close in the silence and calm of the night. 

~

[anigraham]

War for the Crown 05 & 06: Inside the Safe House

Previous Session | Next Session

Session 5 didn’t have much to share as it was mostly taken up with the party being unable to hit anything during a combat.  So expect a long post...

Highlights:

The party head out the door and enter another area of the underground “safehouse.”

Undead begin coming out of the walls and attack the group.  It’s a bit of a struggle…

Once the undead have been dealt with, more nobles and a servant come out of hiding.

The group begin searching the area, still looking for a way out.  They discover a room with wax figures, a room with artifacts, and a room with what appears to be hunting trophies.

Ken gets excited about the idea of a magical wig only to be attacked by something that was under it.  It causes him to attack a nearby servant.

Ken hurries off when he is able to hide, taking refuge in the trophy room. When Zefra goes to check on him, the large griffin “comes to life” and attacks them.

They run away!  Zefra goes down in the process.

Malphene confides in the group about missing her father and wishes she could have had his respect.

They decide they need to rest before they continue on.  They find a chapel to rest in…

...but they first have to deal with a Monaciello Gremlin.

In the morning they continue their search and run into a kobold salesman.  He doesn’t seem to be aware of the city above them and explains what he knows about the area.

The way out seems to be a door with two locks.  Ken breaks a lockpick trying to open it...

Session in Detail:

To much of Ken’s disappointment, the door at the end of the stairs did not lead the way out.  Instead, the door took them into yet another area of the safehouse.  In front of them was a body of a noble...but before anyone has a chance to react or search the area, undead begin coming out of the walls and moving to attack the group.

It was a long and slow struggle for the group especially for Ken who discovered that wielding a rapier is not the same as wielding a short sword.  In the end they do make it out on top especially with the help of Zefra’s healing and Whitholm conjuring up an image of a fat happy noble to use as a distraction.  After the fighting settled down more nobles began emerging from different doors near by.  

There are introductions.  A Lord Wilfen Botoles nearly demands that the party leads everyone to safety and the group agrees when he offers to pay them later.  Among the nobles was also a servant by the name of Imistos who offers up a silver hankey as his own payment for his safety as well as to carry items for people.  

The Dame Malphene Trant is also among the group and it was noticed she had been crying.  John tries to console her a little and the group learns of her father’s death from the massacre above.  While this is happening, Ken tries to take the opportunity to search the dead noble nearby, even pocketing a ring, but it spotted by Gael.  Neither Gael or Ken say anything…

The group continues searching the other rooms, for other survivors, for anything useful, and of course the way out.

The first room they encounter held armor and weapons on display.  Much of it rusted, but taking the time to search the area they began finding items they could use.  Ken finds a usable short sword to switch to.

From there they discover three additional rooms.  One with wax figures of people in fine clothing, one with rows of display cases containing relics and artifacts, and a final room with what appeared to have hunting trophies.  Included among the animals was a large griffin.

Whitholm eyed a magical raven figure in a display case and attempts to steal it, but sets off a trap of electricity.  He tries to be clever and come at it from above, only to set off yet another trap and this time falls unconscious.  While he is being tended to, Ken walks over and works on disarming the trap so that there is no chance of it happening again to anyone.  

With the help of Detect Magic, it is noted that one of the wigs in the wax room appears to be magical.  Excited by this Ken hurries over and snatches it quickly and sees it transform into a plain cap.  He had heard stories of items that could change your clothes or even your entire appearance.  After a little goading from John, Ken places it on his head and hopes it matches all the stories he had heard times before.

Only…

A creature had been waiting just under the cap.  It latches onto Ken and it manages to take control of him mentally, forcing Ken to draw his sword and attack the nearest person.  In this case, the poor servant Imistos.  

The party hurries in and tries to...help...either by attacking Ken (but carefully!) or the thing on his head.  When Ken manages to come to his senses he panics and tries to get away from the group...especially those reaching to pull the thing out of his hair.

The thing finally comes off...still clutching some red hair...and killed.  Barely clinging to consciousness, Ken hurries off to be alone and to check up on himself.  He’s shaken up that his true appearance was nearly revealed and then the reality that his carelessness actually caused harmed to someone else…

He just collects himself while standing in the trophy room.  Checks on his own disguise to make sure everything is in order.

Zefra soon emerges to check on him, reaching out to inspect his head.  Ken tries to reassure her that everything is okay...trying to bring up confidence within himself...when a series of scraping metal and other mechanical sounds cuts through their light chatter.

Two wolf trophies animate, attempt to rip themselves off of their stands, only to crumble down and break.  Some sort of animatronics.  But the noise continues as the griffin also animates and goes to attack Zefra.

Ken’s screaming alerts the party!

Zefra runs away from the animatronic by heading to the northern door that had yet been opened.  Ken leaves out of the original door the two came in.  Zefra heads out of her door, chased by the griffin and decides to turn around and attack the creature.

She misses.

It attacks her.

She goes down.

The party manages to keep the griffin contained in its original room and wake up Zefra.  The rest of the nobles pour out into the newly discovered hallway.  Everyone works on collecting themselves and regaining composure.  They receive a message from Martella describing the fighting and urging the group to lay low if possible.

Everyone begins to realize they may need to find a safe place to rest.  Many of those in the group are hurt and weak.  Heading into a potentially dangerous situation in their condition would only make things worse on them.  

Before searching more of the area to find a place to rest, Ken approaches Imistos and does his best to apologize for his lack in judgement.  Ken also requests to have his bag back as he felt too guilty to have Imistos carrying it.

Imistos refuses and seems confused over Ken’s apology as why would a noble ever apologize or think to burden himself in such a way?

As Ken begins to argue, Zefra comes between them and tries give a little reassurance to Ken and let him know not to beat himself up too badly for the incident.  John also shows up, hands Ken the magical hat they had recovered, and then makes a side comment to Imistos that nobles should apologize for their wrongdoings.

The room the group comes across next is a large area filled with vegetation and a chapel in the back.  They begin to inspect the area, discover an ooze that was easily taken out...after it takes out Ken.

Tired and out of it, Ken waits with John, the two even sharing a drink from some wine John had, as the others inspect the chapel.  Inside are some statues.  The main statue seems to be work and difficult to identify.  A spectral figure appears, looks stern and demands a tithe from Amelia and Zefra.  Whitholm knows based on the image of the figure that it isn’t the dead god Aroden.  

The figure even refers to itself as “arrow-deen”.  

The three get into an altercation with the spectral figure.  There is glitter being thrown about which blinds those in the room.  Another apparition even appears demanding obedience from those present.  Whitholm determines that it is all a programmed image.

By this time John and Ken show up to see what could be going on.  John notices a small red and white figure hiding up in the rafters, waving its hands about.  John addresses it directly and a monaciello gremlin jumps down and tries to escape.  Whitholm stops him in his tracks and they begin questioning the gremlin...learning that its name is Viecar.

Viecar who is eager to leave, gives them money and items as well as information about the surrounding area.  They learn about a large “rat” by the name of Dagio.  Afterwards, Viecar leaves...squeezing through a tiny crack in the wall.

Even though the immediate area seems rather safe, the group sets up some watches.  John and Malphene share a watch together and some pleasant conversation.  She is drinking some tea and when John asks about it...she asks right out, “Do you want to be a woman?”  John doesn’t ask much more about the tea or what it is she means by that.

Also on his watch...John takes the opportunity to use the sustaining spoon to carefully cover a bit of Lord Wilfen’s clothes in the gruel it provides.  Because fuck that guy.

In the morning the group continues on searching and heading north.  Along the way they run into a kobold salesman who calls himself Mimips.  Mimips can’t speak common and addresses only Whitholm in “Gnome” until Amelia starts speaking to him in Draconic.

There is a quick display among everyone over what languages people could speak.

Ken feels a bit left out and mentions to John that he isn’t...as educated as some might assume and doesn’t understand any of the extra languages people are speaking around him.  Not even Elven.

Mimips is eager to sell the group items as they are the first people he has encountered in the area.  Malphene makes an attempt to intimidate him….but her voice cracks.  Embarrassed, she ends up standing off with John and Ken.  John takes some time to inspect the tea and discovers the secret behind the tea...Ken is just oblivious to it all…

Amelia and Whitholm manage to get some information from Mimips.  The kobold seems oblivious to the city that is above them and explains he came from the Dark Lands...from the passage that is currently heading west.  Mimips explains he knows of a library to the southeast and that to the north is very very dangerous...with magical runes in place.

He advises that potential customers shouldn’t go that way…

They lead and head off to the north.  They find a door with two separate keyholes while the group has one key.  Ken decides it is time to get to work and tries to unlock the door.

He promptly breaks his lockpick.

Maybe the library will have the other key they need...

[onemuseleft]

Steve/Tony, number 19 for the AU meme!

When Steve gets there the classroom is mostly empty. “You’re the second wave,” a cheerful young woman in a rainbow plaid shirt tells him. She has a clipboard. “Parents A-M have left already and we’re starting on the back end of the alphabet now. Grab a seat, have some coffee. There’s crackers and stuff if you get hungry. And feel free to look around the classroom if you like. We had the kids decorate so you could see some of what they’ve been working on.”

He’d left Jamie in the gym where a handful of harassed looking teachers were trying to get a hundred kids under the age of six to play dodgeball by the rules. The odds hadn’t looked to be in their favor when Steve left. 

The classroom is bright and cheery with artwork on the walls and shelves full of storybooks and art supplies. There’s a corner in the back of the room with a throw rug and a bunch of pillows, and lots and lots of toys. Steve’s been in the room before but it had been over the summer when Dr. Foster was still getting her classroom set up. This was the first time he was getting the full impact of it and it hit him, hard, like a punch to the sternum that Jamie was going to school here, that his kid was getting the chance Steve hadn’t.

He’d gotten lucky. Natasha had found out about the Maria Stark Foundation from a friend of hers who worked at Stark Tower as an admin, and the friend had managed to get the application directly to the head of the program. Steve had had to pay application fees and for Jamie’s school uniforms, but Jamie’s tuition was guaranteed through fourth grade.

And now his kid went to school in a warm, dry, clean building full of toys and staffed with men and women who were at the top of their field.

It wouldn’t solve all their problems, but Steve knew how the world worked. Hard work counted for a lot but connections counted for a lot more. It was cheating, and for himself Steve railed against it, but all bets were off for his kid’s education. 

He walked through the classroom slowly, running his fingers over the shiny covers of the picture books on the shelves, and feeling vaguely like a giant next to the tiny chairs and low tables. 

The back wall was a huge corkboard covered in artwork. Crayon, pencil, markers, watercolors. Steve’s eye was drawn to it instantly and he gave up resisting the urge to investigate. There were literally dozens of drawings, arranged in bundles of five or six, all by the same kid. Steve saw a bunch of flower pictures by a girl named Suzie and lots of pictures of houses and families and things that were either horses or dogs (or very large mice, Steve couldn’t tell). 

There was a surprisingly good drawing of a bright red robot fighting a dinosaur and Steve traced his fingers over the bright red and orange fire the dinosaur was shooting out of its mouth (dragon?) with a strange sense of wistfulness. As a kid, having access to art supplies like that would have been… heaven. 

Oh, he didn’t regret joining the Army or anything that came after, but part of him had always wished he hadn’t had to give up on art, that he’d had the supplies and the training and the talent to pursue it further than as a hobby.

There are a few other drawings, all in colored pencil. The same robot versus unicorn, robot versus a tank, robot versus a clown and robot versus something Steve couldn’t for the life of him identify that looked like… one of those adjustable desk lamps maybe? He looked at it a little closer and that was when he noticed the child’s name.

Jamie.

Steve almost felt like his heart was skipping a beat. He’d never known Jamie liked to draw? Or that he could draw so well - it’s obviously the work of a kindergartner but there’s a real sense of perspective and dimension, a bit of natural talent mixed in with the robot enthusiasm.

He was excited, honestly. This was something he knew about, he could really share this with Jamie. He was already planning a trip to Michael’s on the way home, to stock up on supplies: paper, sketchpads, maybe some charcoals and pastels. Did they make child-sized easels? They must somewhere, he could look on Amazon when they got home. And Crayola of course, one of everything so Jamie could experiment and get a feel for his favorite medium.

“Thank god for trust funds, huh?”

Steve started, so absorbed in his planning that he hadn’t even noticed the other man come up beside him. “Sorry?”

The man smiled. He was handsome, in a way Steve couldn’t help but appreciate. Steve’s height, give or take an inch, with very dark, wavy hair that turned to curls at the very end and was stylishly disheveled. His eyes were a vivid shade of blue and his features were just a little too sharp to be really classic. His mouth was pulled into a sideways smirk - more amused than sarcastic, Steve thought, though the goatee gave him a bit of a devilish look to him. He was wearing a black t-shirt under a worn blue flannel and a pair of jeans that looked like they’d been designer before someone spilled motor oil on them. They were worn at the cuffs and thin around the thighs and knees, worn in. 

The guy crossed his arms and the material pulled tight across his shoulders and biceps. Also this guy had a gym membership somewhere. Steve blinked and dragged his eyes back up to the guy’s face.

“I hear the whole starving artist thing isn’t as sexy as they make it look on TV,” the guy said. He studied Jamie’s drawings. “I mean, okay, it’s early years yet, the kid might have a knack for something more marketable down the line. But this screams “future comic book artist” to me, so probably better to just start saving now, right?”

“What’s wrong with being a comic book artist?” Steve snapped. He took a step forward, partially blocking the guy’s view of the pictures. His heart was beating fast, and he could feel anger surging through his spine. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Who thought it was okay to talk shit about someone else’s kid’s (any kid’s) artwork? “If Jamie wants to draw comic books when he grows up that’s fine. The world needs more art in it and I’d rather have my kid grow up and actually create something in this world than be marketable off the backs of other people’s work.”

The guy gave him a sideways look. “She.”

Steve stopped short of his next sentence - he’s not sure, actually, what it was going to be but he’s probably perilously close to saying something that’s going to start a real fight. “What?”

“Jamie,” the guy says. He doesn’t look mad. A little bemused maybe. “Jamie’s a girl. And you’re right, if she wants to draw comic books when she grows up, that’s fine. I was trying to joke and obviously failed. Sorry. I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess you’re an artist?”

“I’m a cop,” Steve said. “Jamie’s a boy.”

The guy lifted one perfectly shaped brow. “Um.”

“Jamie’s dad!”

The cheerful teacher’s assistant was standing in the doorway of the classroom with her clipboard. She beamed in their general direction. “We’re ready for you!”

Steve nodded and stepped forward.

And so did the handsome guy.

“What-” Steve started to ask, but the teacher’s assistant cut him off. 

“Sorry! Sorry! We’re going alphabetically today, Mr. Stark. Jamie Rogers’ dad is up first.”

The guy - Stark, gestured for Steve to proceed. “No problem, Darcy. I didn’t realize there were two Jamies this year.”

Steve felt his stomach drop and almost closed his eyes in embarrassment. Oh no.

She grinned and rolled her eyes at him, obviously long-acquainted. “Oh, the terror twins. We can’t let them sit next to each other anymore, you know. They just team up against all the other kids and rule the classroom like tiny despots. It’s super cute, though, I have video. I’ll show you after.”

“It’s been less than a month!” Stark said. “How much terror could they really have wreaked?”

Darcy stuck her tongue out at him. “I was there for pre-K, Tony. Your kid convinced the entire class that we were all going to die in a black hole when they turned on the Large Hadron Collider last year. We had to send home notes. And half the parents didn’t even know what the Large Hadron Collider was and thought we’d let their kids see porn. Dr. Banner turned so red I thought his head was going to explode.”

Tony was grinning, clearly proud. “Embarrassed or angry at their shameless lack of basic knowledge of scientific and current events?”

“You know which one,” Darcy said. “Go away and stop distracting me. Mr. Rogers, come this way, Dr. Foster is ready for you.”

Tony was already turning away, attention back on the wall of art and studying Jamie’s - the wrong Jamie, Steve realized with a little pang of disappointment and more than a little embarrassment - artwork again. Steve wasn’t quite sure how to apologize for the misunderstanding and Darcy is waiting, so he went off to meet Dr. Foster. 

She was wonderful - bright and pleasant, but very serious as they discussed Jamie’s progress. He was already spelling words - Steve had been reading to him and working on the alphabet at home, so he was pleased to see that he was ahead of the class there - and he was good with numbers and other basic skills. “He doesn’t like nap time though,” Dr Foster said with a smile. “He likes to get up while the other children are asleep and play with the ball.” 

She gave him some materials to read and a progress report more complicated than some of the arrest reports Steve had to fill out at work, then presented him a folder full of Jamie’s schoolwork - and there were a few drawings in there, Steve saw, but nothing like the ones on the wall. Steve studied them; a firetruck, a football, a picture of Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Jamie standing next to Natasha’s F1 car from last season.

Steve decided he rather liked these even better than the robot drawings.

Afterwards, he lingered in the classroom for a while longer, waiting until Dr. Foster was done with “Jamie S’s dad!” 

“Sorry about earlier,” he blurted out as soon as Tony came back into the room. “I thought the drawings were by my Jamie and I got defensive.” 

“Hey, no worries.” Tony looked pretty laid back, but Steve thought he saw some tension seep out of his posture. “I totally get the mix-up. It’s my fault anyway - next time I’ll introduce myself before I go straight to roasting the five-year-old.”

“That’s… probably a good idea.”

Tony grinned. “I’m completely cool with the art thing, on the record. She wants to be President when she grows up, so honestly, starving comic book artist is a step up. I was just trying to break the ice because you’re the only other parent here who didn’t look like the came straight from the country club in Stepford, if you catch me.”

“Well, that’s probably because they wouldn’t let me in the country club, most likely.” Steve offered Tony his hand. “Steve Rogers, former US Army, currently Detective 3rd Grade with the NYPD. Jamie and I are here thanks to the Maria Stark Foundation.”

Tony grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Oh hey, I remember you! You’re Natasha’s friend.”

“You know Natasha?” Steve blinked. “Wait, you’re that Tony Stark. I can’t believe I didn’t realize.” He gave Tony a second once-over, taking in the grease under his nails and the old, worn clothes, then comparing them to the wildly expensive watch and leather motorcycle boots. So that was what a billionaire looked like when he was dressed casual, who knew?

Tony shrugged. “I’m told the camera adds ten pounds, fifteen years and at least six tons of sleazebag. And yeah, Natasha’s one of my favorite test drivers. She’s been driving prototypes into the ground for me since she wrecked her ankle and had to quit the ballet. How do you know her? She never said.”

“She married my best friend.”

Tony gave him a look that could best be described as delighted. “You’re Bucky’s roommate? Man, why weren’t you at the wedding?”

Steve sighed. “Getting drunk married on some random guy’s back porch at four in the morning five days after you meet is not a wedding. Oh my god, you were the guy in the bathrobe in the cell phone video weren’t you? You performed the ceremony!”

“I love weddings,” Tony said with relish. “But yeah, we were all super wasted. I still don’t remember how we got back here from Monte Carlo.”

“Daddy!”

Steve turned to face the door, aware of Tony doing the same beside him. The voice had been a girl’s, and there was a tiny little slip of a girl standing in the doorway. She had long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, light brown skin and the same bright blue eyes as her father.  She was wearing a purple t-shirt with a unicorn on it, a bright blue tutu, and leggings with a universe pattern on on them. She also had a pair of costume bat wings strapped to her back and was wearing several plastic bead necklaces. “Daddy, you can do weddings?”

Steve’s own Jamie was standing right behind her. He was wearing the same jeans and red t-shirt he’d been wearing earlier, but had at some point acquired a top hat and a cape. “I thought you two were supposed to stay in the gym?”

“Dodgeball is stupid,” not-his-Jamie declared. Jamie nodded in agreement, though Steve knew for a fact that Jamie loved playing Dodgeball. “We’re gonna get married instead but Modi and Magni said we had to get a priest if we wanted to get married for real.”

“Why are you getting married?” Tony asked. 

“Cause you’re supposed to marry your best friend,” his daughter replied in a tone that indicated she felt her father should have known that without having to ask. “Uncle Rhodey said so when he and Aunt Carol got married. And Jamie’s my best friend now plus our names match so we hafta.”

“Sound logic,” Tony said. “But I refuse to pay for your wedding until you have at least one college degree.”

“How long does college take?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

“For you? Two years. But you have to graduate from kindergarten first.”

She sighed heavily. “Fine. But someone’s gotta get married, we already decorated the book nook to make it the church and promised Thrud she could be the flower girl.”

“Why don’t you just marry Thrud?” Tony asked. 

“I don’t want to be related to Magni and Modi,” his daughter said.

“That’s fair,” Tony said. He leaned in close to Steve. “Imagine a six-year-old frat boy who’s basically a nice guy but has no volume control and  unlimited energy. Then give him an identical twin.”

“Smart girl,” Steve said. 

“You guys can get married instead,” Jamie said. He had his hands jammed in his pockets. “I want to see a wedding, I didn’t get invited to Uncle Bucky’s.”

“You were two,” Steve said, “you wouldn’t remember it even if you had gone.”

“Pleeeeease?” Jamie said. Not-his-Jamie turned on her father with a wide-eyed look that would have gotten an entire pound full of puppies adopted. 

Tony turned to Steve with a raised eyebrow. “Well, what do you say? Wanna go get hitched by a bunch of ankle-biters?”

Steve studied him for a moment. He looked relaxed and happy. His Jamie was standing on his feet and tugging on his shirt as she bounced up and down and he wasn’t trying to get her off his expensive shoes. He’d taken the whole misunderstanding thing earlier with a sense of humor and he hadn’t cared at all that Steve was there on charity, unlike the few other parents Steve had met that year.

Plus, he was still damned handsome.

“Sure, what the hell, I always wanted to get married.” Steve leaned down to pick Jamie up and sit him on his hip. “But you have to let me buy you guys ice cream afterwards.”

Tony gave him a slow smile. “First date after the wedding, huh? I knew I was going to like you.”

[talkingaboutprinting]

Unique Tips To Design Great A Label

Sometimes, the quality of a product’s label will be enough to sell that product.

On a label, the combination of impressive graphic design and useful information is often irresistible to a customer.

In other words, a product’s label can be its own kind of advertising.

It speaks to your business, your product, and the high quality of both. Taking the time to choose the right kind of label and putting thought and care into its design, is therefore essential.

If your business is small and you don’t have the budget for a designer, or if you need to save money, you can design and order your own labels.

So, how do you design a label to make sure you get an amazing finished label or sticker?

First, figure out the type of label you need. Then, follow our easy design tips to make it look professional.

Types of Labels: What Are Your Options?

Before you start figuring out how to design a label, you should first figure out what type you need:

Address Labels

Call-to-Action Labels

Product Labels

Packaging Stickers

Name Labels

1. Address Labels

Designing your own address labels for your brand makes sending out company-related correspondence easier. Include your logo on the label so when you stick it on an envelope or package, it’s instantly branded for a professional look.

2. Call-to-Action Labels

Call-to-action labels are simple stickers you can place on a product to call your customer to action. These can be simple or elaborate, but most often will have an action phrase. For example, call-to-action labels that say “Touch me!” “Smell me!” or “Look closer!” invite your customer to examine your product and experience the benefits firsthand.

3. Product Labels

Product labels are perhaps the most common type of labels with which you’re familiar. These labels are on almost every product you can buy and describe that product, its benefits, or its ingredients, and include branding.

The right product labelling can help demystify a product, clearly communicate its benefits to the customer, and make it look enticing or appealing.

4. Packaging Stickers

For shipping your products, packaging stickers for boxes and envelopes can take the customer experience one step further. Add a sticker with your logo on it to a box, or add one as an envelope seal, and it instantly elevates the entire package.

5. Name Labels

Whether your team is attending an event or you just need name tags for your front-facing employees, customizing name labels is another great way to make a good impression and stay on-brand.

8 Tips for Designing a Professional-Looking Label

Designing labels for product packaging is a big deal. The label will directly affect how your product is perceived and will influence buying decisions. However, as you’ll soon see, it’s not a good idea to get too critical when you’re trying to figure out how to design a label.

Instead, follow these basic tips, have a little fun with it, and you’ll get a handle on the winning formula for professional, snazzy-looking labels.

1. Use the Best Possible Tools

Before you can design a beautiful logo or online label, you need to have the right tools for the job. Luckily, there are a few different options that will yield great results, whether you’re working in a small business setting or out of your home office.

Consider using one of these design tools:

Adobe Suite: This software includes a variety of design programs (including Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign) that allow you to create and edit complex graphic design products, like product labels.  

Microsoft Word: This software has easy-to-use label formatting templates, so designers can configure and print many labels on one single page.

Canva: This online software has a wide range of free templates you can use and edit to create your perfect label, making it a great option for entry-level designers.

2. Include the Most Important Information

When designing your label, you have to make sure key information is included without overwhelming the label with text.

With too much text, your label starts to look cluttered and confusing. This is why you should outline exactly what you need to include to help the customer make sense of the product and desire it – no more, no less.

For instance, on the coffee label above, the designer has made sure to include important buying information (the coffee bean origins and the type of roast) but has left plenty of space on the label. This gives the brand name and logo a chance to stand out.

3. Think About the Product Packaging & Containers

The size, shape, and type of packaging/container for your product will definitely determine your label design, too.

For instance, a small spice jar needs a much smaller label. It has to look good and stand out on that tiny surface, yet you can’t put too much information on it or it will be hard to read.

Every product has its own unique packaging (a jar of ketchup will require a very different label than a package of cookies or a pair of headphones). So, when you are designing a product label, it is critically important to keep the product packaging at the top of your mind.

After all, if the label is too big or too small for the container, it won’t catch the customer’s eye!

Consider the product’s shape and size, as well as the label’s location on the packaging, before you begin to work with any other design elements. This will give you clear parameters in which you have to work, which will determine the font and image sizes you need to use.

4. Use a Consistent Brand Logo

When designing your label, don’t forget to add your logo or branding.

Your product label needs to accomplish two main tasks: it must tell your customer what is inside the packaging, and it must advertise your company. Accomplishing the former is simple enough (just use clear, effective copy on your label) but the latter requires you to use very consistent branding.

How can you make sure your label reflects your brand? By incorporating your logo! Every one of your company printables should bear your logo somewhere, and your product labels are no exception.

Make sure your logo (or a simplified version, if your logo is too detailed for a small label) is prominently placed in your design.

In the above example from Ucreative, the packaging and product may change, but the brand name remains a consistent design element. It looks the same on every package, but it still complements each one.

5. Make It Clear and Readable

Even the most beautiful label in the world won’t be effective if your customers can’t read it. Readability is arguably the most important element of any graphic design project, from product labels and name tags to company flyers and banners.

Of course, it’s fine if some aspects of your label (the fine print, for example) are only truly legible up close, but your company name and product name must be seen even from across the room. Remember to take a few steps back throughout the design process and see how your label looks from afar.

This tip is important if you need your product to stand out on store shelves. A label that’s readable from far away will shout at customers and draw them in.

6. Use a Smart Combination of Fonts

Every label designer knows how important it is to use contrast in your graphic design projects. Contrasting colours or fonts adds dimension to your overall design, which grabs the viewer’s attention and entices them to pick up the product.

Throughout the design process, play around with different font pairings (stick to two or three fonts, no more). Consider fonts of different thicknesses, or even different styles; for example, ornate script-style fonts always look great alongside bold, modern, sans serif options.

For a similar look, try using two main fonts on your product label. Pick one that’s more elegant and one that’s more modern. Or, pair a cursive font with a bold, all-caps font. Use the difference in fonts to make your label easy to read and understand.

For instance, in the gin label example, the all-caps font is used for the brand name, batch number, and other practical information. The cursive font, meanwhile, is used exclusively to describe the flavours of the wine and the ingredients.

7. Leave Enough White Space

The term “white space” refers to the empty space between different elements on a page, business card, or label. This is particularly important in graphic design, as it keeps your design from becoming too cluttered for the eye to focus on any one element.

Make sure your label has sufficient white space around each design element: your logo, product name, images, and any copy should all have enough space around them that your customers can focus on one aspect at a time.

According to Notes on Design, this helps separate important information and creates visual interest.

In the above example, the white space is used in a particularly clever way to create the face of a panda.

8. Add at Least One Decorative Element

Labels should first and foremost communicate information about the products they are on. However, that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be attractive — in fact, they absolutely should be!

Every product label should have at least one decorative design element to give it some artistic flair. This can be a photo of the product in use, an illustration or decorative pattern, or even copy in an attractive color.

For example, choose an accent color that matches your branding, or add an illustrative element that speaks to what the product does. For a good example, look at the above example of the bottle of limoncello from Crema de Limoncello – the bright, lemon yellow color is the main accent and speaks to the product ingredients.

9. Be Playful

It’s easy to take the question of how to design a label too seriously. Instead, try to have fun with it. Inject some playfulness or personality into your label and you might just come up with something that sells itself.

Think back to the products you remember most fondly from your youth. What did their labels look like? Most likely, they involved drawings of cute characters and playful illustrations that grabbed your eye from across the store aisle.

There’s a reason little you were drawn to these product labels: they’re fun!

Customers are often drawn to products and packaging that have a little personality, so don’t make the process of designing a label too seriously. Sometimes, a cute illustration or clever pun in your copy can be the thing that earns you a purchase.

How to Design a Label: Use Your Creativity

You don’t need a team of professional designers to create the perfect product label. With the right tools, a few graphic design principles, and a lot of personality and creativity, even amateur designers can create labels that are just as awesome as the pros!

If you’re ready to start designing, consider checking out the label templates available at Banana Print one short paragraph for the conclusion. These design templates make it easier than ever to create and print something truly great for your business.

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Original article sourced from https://www.banana-print.co.uk/

[imrainai]

I’m going to try to answer people directly, but first, I am going to explain what The Stargazer’s Companion is, because it occurs to me that most people are probably not familiar with it (especially people who live outside of Voa)!

The Stargazer’s Companion is the magazine put out by Dar Publishing, a small publishing company mostly known for distributing speculative fiction aimed at children and young people. This isn’t all they do, but the primary mission of Dar is to make scientific concepts accessible to everyone, and to get young people of every caste interested in the space program, since “reaching the stars will take effort from all of us.”

The Stargazer’s Companion actually predates Dar; its editors created the publishing company in order to be able to release longer, standalone works. Dar was founded in 3413, while the magazine has been in circulation since early 3411. There’s no non-Voan version, and it’s fairly obscure even here; I didn’t learn about it until last year, because the libraries in my old city didn’t have it.

TSC is supposed to be what the title suggests it is--a magazine to take with you if you’re going to go out stargazing. It’s always been an eclectic collection of nonfiction articles, constellation charts, fiction, puzzles, and poetry. I don’t think its circulation numbers have ever been very high (perhaps because of the lack of focus), but it’s always been aimed at people (particularly young people) who want to expand their horizons and play with ideas they haven’t encountered before. 

It has never been a solely green magazine. When TSC began circulation in 3411, it was a collaboration between grad students at Garen University (which primarily trains yellows, and is best-known for its editing department, although a majority of the students are secretary-track) and a collection of local teachers who wanted something to inspire their students with. It’s always accepted green writing, particularly fiction, but its early issues are also full of math puzzles designed by the yellow programmers, articles and features written by its orange creators, and (notably) a series of poems written by a grey astronaut. Its editors and owners are yellow (not green), but they have both greens and oranges on staff.

More recent issues are a little greener, but here’s a breakdown of the issue I was published in:

Pages 1-2, advertisements. No idea who designed these. 

Pages 3-4, table of contents.

Pages 7-20, a chapter of an ongoing comic series called Near Planet. It is written and illustrated by Camazar (green, comic artist--not a real name, the magazine doesn’t require legal names) and colored by Melnade be-Endre (purple, house painter). Camazar also writes a webcomic, Birthright, which you can read here.

Pages 21-28, an article about supernovas and the life cycles of stars titled “When a Star Dies”. (Ves really liked this one.) It was written by Sanda be-Marin (green, textbook writer), and it made me want to check out the textbooks she’s contributed to (which are, interestingly, mostly about the ocean). It also contains pictures which are credited to the VCSEO, so obviously those were taken by greens, though I have no idea who was manning the telescope at the time.

Pages 29-45, a story titled “At the End of All Things”. It was written by Zanathor be-Enkaza (green, mathematics student). It’s the first time she’s published fiction, but I think it’s the strongest piece of writing in the issue.

Pages 46-53, a story titled “In the Shadow of the Moons”. It was written by Moran be-Elzet (green, fiction writer). Moran has been published in TSC before, and primarily writes comedies; this is the first time he’s written something comparatively more serious, though it still made me chuckle at the beginning.

Page 54, a poem titled “Candles Under Darkness”. It was written by Semavet, who gives no real name (again, the magazine doesn’t require one), but it does include the address of her blog, where she identifies herself as a security guard and combat veteran (and also posts more poetry).

Pages 55-80, the usual collection of star charts and calendars.

Pages 81-83, a series of mathematical puzzles. They’re credited to Lenore be-Delve (purple, mechanic) and Bera be-Mardan (orange, math teacher).

Pages 84-92, a story titled “The Golden Castle”. I wrote this one, so I guess (purple, pest control)?

Pages 93-132, a story titled “Without a Sound”. This is certainly the most unique piece of writing in the issue--it was written collaboratively by Elan be-Tayar (gray, former lunar colony worker) and Imi be-Kada (yellow, former journalist and currently a programmer). It alternates between a fictional horror story (written by Imi) and nonfiction explanations of the various dangers faced by astronauts (written by Elan), which are relevant to the story and very interesting in their own right. I think Zanathor’s story is still the best in the issue, but I’d love to see more from both of these writers.

Pages 133-137, more puzzles. I still haven’t solved the ciphering page. They were designed by Mas be-Janari (orange, nurse), Bere Kael (green, comic artist), Lutan be-Evka (green, linguist), Bar be-Sambav (yellow, programmer), and Mihan be-Pari (orange, writing teacher).

Pages 138-152, “Making it Go”, an article about the process of testing new engines and other devices at VCSEO. This is actually really exciting for TSC; the writer is Maten be-Kal, a professional journalist. TSC doesn’t normally have this sort of quality journalism work in it--the nonfiction articles are usually more like very well-written and exciting textbook excerpts--so it was really cool to see it in this issue.

Pages 153-160, “Ask an Astronaut”, aka the best part of every issue, a feature where Luze be-Ketzel (gray, former astronaut for Vartech) and Tarin be-Makre (green, VCSEO astronomer) team up to answer reader questions about space (although they seem super biased towards answering the questions of two and three-year-olds, which everyone is mostly fine with).

Pages 161-164. More ads.

Pages 165-174, “The Kidnapping of Professor San” a puzzle-story (an extended narrative problem in which players solve puzzles to decode the story) by Vana be-Ren (orange, math teacher). 

Pages 175-177, “Star Reviews”. These are written by Kala be-Malkar, the head editor, who also reviews stars. They’re funny, if a bit hard to explain.

Pages 178-186, “The Asteroid Hunt”, by Malen be-Pala (grey, three-year-old). TSC hosts a contest twice a season where three-year-olds from around Voa can write space-themed stories from their classrooms. As long as their teacher pays the registration fee, they are guaranteed feedback, and one of them will be published. They aren’t good stories compared to what adults write--you have to practice, if you want to become good at what you do--but they are very different, and it’s a really cool way of motivating young people to hone their writing skills.

Pages 187-204, “Drawing Pictures In the Sky”, an article about the history and development of the well-known constellations, as well as others that are now no longer widely known. It was written by Linara be-Pade (green, actress and historian).

Pages 205-206, a map of Voa by light pollution, so you know where to go to stargaze.

My point in saying all this is that I did not specifically go to a greens-only, fiction-only magazine in order to intentionally Prove That I’m Better Than Greens (I’m not) or take opportunities away from green writers (I have no interest in doing this). Maybe I did end up taking an opportunity away! Maybe without me, they would have published another green in this issue. Maybe TSC shouldn’t exist at all, because maybe it’s taking market share away from more specialized green magazines. But the fact remains that it does exist, and that it has always explicitly welcomed submissions from people of every caste (with the tradeoff that the pay is Not That Great).

So I’m fine with people criticizing me for publishing, especially if that criticism comes from greens who feel that I’m taking away their livelihoods. I might disagree, but that doesn’t mean I’m definitely right, and I have no desire to be protected from people’s thoughts just because those thoughts are different than mine. But I think it’s important to note that not every fiction writer in the entire world is green, and that some of them are hobbyists who submit to obscure magazines that specifically try to be as varied and eclectic as possible, while still maintaining a basic focus on space.

If you don’t think that The Stargazer’s Companion should exist in its current form, again, that’s fine, but that’s what it means to say that only greens should submit to it.

[dipulb3]

Behold: A color-changing smart bulb that isn't stupidly expensive

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/behold-a-color-changing-smart-bulb-that-isnt-stupidly-expensive/

Behold: A color-changing smart bulb that isn't stupidly expensive

I’ve long held that connected lighting is one of the most sensible smart home upgrades you can invest in — in part, because it really doesn’t need to be much of an investment. Perfectly decent smart bulbs can be had for less than the price of a pizza, and once you buy in, you’ll use them each and every day, complete with the convenience and comfort of automated lighting that you can control with your voice.

Like

Terrific value

Supports voice control via Alexa, Siri and Google Assistant

Fully featured app

Bright, good-looking white light tones, mostly accurate color quality

Additional bulb shapes coming soon

Don’t Like

Many color presets don’t play well with Alexa or Google

Not compatible with Philips Hue’s apps or integrations

Can’t trigger animated presets with voice

No Apple HomeKit support

There’s an exception though, or an asterisk perhaps, and that’s smart bulbs that can change colors. Even as the price of LED lights fell steadily over the past five years or so, color-changing bulbs from well-established names like Philips Hue and Lifx continued to sell at a steep premium. Even if you caught a good sale, you’d be lucky in most cases to get one for anything less than $30.

Things seem to be turning a corner in 2020, though — most notably with the Philips Wiz Connected Smart Wi-Fi LED. Available at Home Depot for just $13 each, it’s a full-fledged color-changer that needs no hub, and it supports voice control via Alexa, Google Assistant or Siri Shortcuts. Its colors aren’t quite as bright or vivid as you’ll get from our top performer in the color-changing category, the Lifx Mini LED, but they still do an admirable job at splashing accurate, eye-catching shades across your walls. Despite the fact that it doesn’t work with the Philips Hue app or with Hue’s immense list of third-party integrations, the bulb still finds plenty to offer via the surprisingly well-featured Wiz app. 

All of that makes these bulbs a terrific and worthy value pick if you’re interested in changing up the colors in your home — and newly announced bulb shapes like a candelabra bulb and an outdoor-rated PAR38 bulb make it easy to expand your setup to include any fixture you like. If you’re interested in deeper integrations with third-party products and services, or advanced features that can sync your lights with your TV or with your music, then you’ll still need to spend up on something from Philips Hue, Lifx or Nanoleaf — but for simple, voice-activated, color-changing light that you can control and program from your phone, these Wiz Connected bulbs will do the trick for a fraction of the cost.

Light bulb basics

For the most part, the Philips Wiz Connected LED works like any other light bulb — just screw it in and turn it on when you want light. The default setting puts out a claimed 800 lumens of brightness at a yellowy color temperature of 2,700 K. That’s the same as you’ll get from a standard 60-watt incandescent light bulb, but since this is an LED we’re talking about, the power draw is much less — just 8.5 watts. 

Those energy savings are worth noting. If you turned the Philips Wiz Connected LED on at full brightness and left it on for an entire year, it’d only add a little over $8 to your energy bill. For comparison, that old-fashioned, 60-watt incandescent would add almost $60 to your bill over the same stretch. Replace a bulb like that with the Philips Wiz Connected LED, then use it for an average of three hours per day — it’ll pay for itself in energy savings in about two years, then keep on shining for another 20 years.

The Philips Wiz Connected LED (center) is about as bright as a Lifx Mini White or Philips Hue LED at its default, soft white setting — but its colors aren’t as bright as those competitors. 

Ry Crist/CNET

As for the brightness, I’m still working from home without access to my lighting lab, so I can’t double-check the specific lumen count just yet. Still, in comparison with other bulbs I’ve tested in the past, including the Philips Hue White LED, it’s easy to see that the Philips Wiz Connected LED does just fine at default settings. That’s much better than the original Wiz LED, which was released before 2019, when the Hong Kong-based startup was purchased by Signify (formerly known as Philips Lighting). That bulb was too dim at its default setting, and only hit peak brightness at an awkward white light color temperature of 4,200 K.

The colors are much less bright than the white light settings, which is to be expected. What’s important is that they’re bright enough to make an impact, and for the most part, accurate in tone — though, it struggles to put out bold shades of yellow or orange. In some cases, the presets used by Alexa and Google aren’t the greatest, either. Ask either assistant for pink, for instance, and you’ll get milky white light.

Color quality is mostly accurate, but the bulb’s palette has a few weak spots.

Ry Crist/CNET

Ugly-looking pinks aside, stalwarts like red, blue and green come through just fine — and if you open the Wiz app, you’ll find a color selector with dozens of different settings, including oddball Crayola rejects like “Razzmatazz,” “Free Speech Green” and “Gorse.” What’s extra odd is that Alexa and Google seem to recognize some of these settings (including a great-looking “Deep Pink”), but not all of them. Google Assistant seemed to recognize more of them, at least, sort of. When I asked it to jump to the “Macaroni and Cheese” setting, it triggered that ugly, milky white again — but that’s better than I got from Alexa, which just looked at me funny before adding mac and cheese to my grocery list.

The app also features a number of “dynamic” color settings that cycle through various shades. Some, like “Ocean” or “Forest,” follow a theme, while others just dance between random colors for romantic mood lighting, party-appropriate dance floor lights, or a simulated candle-like flicker. My big quibble here? There’s no way to activate these with your voice or via any third-party integration. You either have to turn them on in the app, or buy a physical Wiz remote and assign them to its customizable preset buttons.

The Wiz app lets you choose between a long list of simple and dynamic color presets, as well as timed fades and a full color selector.

Screenshots by Ry Crist/CNET

An app that’s filled with tricks

With a clean interface and plenty of guidance, the Wiz app is simple enough to use — but what’s striking about it is the number of features it boasts, some of which you won’t even find in the Philips Hue or Lifx apps.

You’ll start by turning your bulb on and beginning the pairing process, which requires you to connect to the bulb’s Wi-Fi network so the app can add it onto your home network. It’s especially simple because the bulb uses its color capabilities to signal you along the way. For instance, when you set the bulb to pairing mode, it’ll start pulsing purple once its Wi-Fi network is ready for you to connect.

With the bulb up and running, you’ll specify the room it’s in and give it a name. From there, you’ll be able to turn it on and off and dim it up and own from the home screen. To change the color, tap whatever color is listed as “now playing” to pull up a full list of preset options, as well as the color selector where those oddly named shades are located. I just wish Wiz would relocate this color selector to the home screen so you don’t need an extra tap and scroll in order to pull it up.

Tapping the little gear icon pulls up the system settings, as well as the specific light settings for all of your bulbs. There are tons of neat features tucked away here, including an option to customize how long it takes for the light to fade between changes, and also an energy use tracker. You won’t get either of those with the Philips Hue app.

The Wiz app features a bounty of interesting features, including scenes, schedules, energy monitoring, automated vacation lighting, custom fade durations and a “Rhythm Mode” that lets you plot out a day’s worth of repeatable lighting changes.

Screenshots by Ry Crist/CNET

Other features include the usual options for saving scenes and for scheduling lighting changes, as well as a “Rhythm Mode” that lets you set the lights to automatically cycle between up to five custom settings at different times of the day. The app starts you off with a circadian mode that automatically adjusts the lights between energizing cool white tones when you wake up and relaxing soft white tones in the evening, with a night light for when you’re asleep. If you’d rather build your own Rhythm that automatically triggers Party Mode whenever your work-from-home day is over, hey, more power to you.

What’s especially nice about the feature is the way Wiz visualizes it with a ring-shaped timeline. Once you plot a lighting change on it — say, lights on at 7 a.m. — it’s a cinch to slide that marker around the ring to make fine adjustments to the schedule. It’s similar to the Lifx app’s Day & Dusk feature, which plots lighting changes along a line graph. I like the Wiz approach even better.

The Wiz app makes it easy to connect with third-party platforms like Alexa.

Screenshots by Ry Crist/CNET

As for integrations, the Wiz app supports Alexa, Google Assistant, IFTTT and a handful of other, smaller smart home platforms. The app does a great job of making it easy to connect with them — for instance, when you tap the option for adding Alexa, it’ll switch apps and send you directly to the authentication page in the Alexa app.

The big, missing integration is Apple HomeKit, but you can still use Siri to control these bulbs if you’re willing to use Apple’s Shortcuts app, which lets you trigger your apps with custom Siri commands. It’s a more limited experience than you get with HomeKit, which lets you program and control devices from various brands in Apple’s Home app, but it does the job. For example, I created a shortcut that turns any Wiz lights in my bedroom on just by saying, “Hey Siri, cue the lights.” That’s probably not enough for anyone who’s already seriously invested in Apple HomeKit, but it’s enough for the bulb to say that it supports voice controls by all three of the major voice assistants, so I’ll give it a passing grade.

I also appreciated the Wiz Connected privacy policy, which does a better job than most of explaining the company’s data practices in plain English. Per that policy, the only info Wiz collects when you use its bulbs are unique product identifiers and diagnostic information, as well as things like a Home ID and specific user preferences from using the app. Wiz also says that it does not share user data with any third parties for the purposes of targeted advertising.

Ry Crist/CNET

The verdict

Color-changing smart bulbs are futuristic and flashy, and they make the smart home fun. That’s why they’ve always been so much more expensive than white light smart bulbs — not because RGB diodes cost a fortune, but because they can have a dramatic impact on the way your home looks and feels. For years, manufacturers have translated that into markup, positioning full-color smart lighting as a luxury.

That’s all well and good for manufacturers, but look back through the last five years of smart home coverage on our site and on others, and count how many times we’ve used pictures of bedrooms and living rooms lit with fancy colors to connote the connected living space. It’s an easy visual for the fun futurism of the smart home, and it’s become one of the first things people imagine when they envision the category as a whole. In other words, these things shouldn’t be seen as a luxury any longer. For many, they’re a staple of the smart home experience.

The Philips Wiz Connected Smart Wi-Fi LED reflects that reality better than any other color-changing smart bulb I’ve tested to date. At $13 each, it’s as affordable as the smart home gets, and with no need for a hub, you can connect it with Alexa, Google or Siri as soon as you screw the thing in. That makes it an excellent pick for beginners, and also a great choice for anyone who’s already invested in a voice-controlled smart home, and who would enjoy expanding the setup to include a fresh pop of color or two.

[shirlleycoyle]

The History of TV Color Bars, One of the First Electronic Graphics Ever Made

A version of this post originally appeared on Tedium, a twice-weekly newsletter that hunts for the end of the long tail.

You don’t know Norbert D. Larky and David D. Holmes, but you’ve definitely seen their work thousands of times in your life.

It’s the kind of thing that has existed in the brains of people who left the TV on an obscure cable channel in the middle of the night, the kind that doesn’t have 24 hours of content to fill their day.

Or maybe there was a glitch at the station and they needed to fill some airtime. What Larky and Holmes created in the early 1950s was the one of the most iconic test patterns the world has ever seen.

You know the one, with the bright color bars that are hard to miss. It’s probably the most widely recognized, but test patterns like it have been a key element of television almost since the beginning.

Read on to learn how we got them, and what they do.

“A significant on-screen representative and host of the New World of television programming emerging in the 1930s and 1940s, the test pattern entered into an existing world of settler colonial mass media power and control over representations of Indians, in which the culturally and socially multidimensional and fluid indigenous is practically negated and absent.”

— Dustin Tahmahkera, an associate professor with the American Indian Studies program at the University of Illinois, discussing the simplistic and stereotypical nature of the “Indian head” illustration, a drawing of a generic Native American man wearing a headdress, used on early television test patterns in his 2014 book Tribal Television: Viewing Native People in Sitcoms. Tahmahkera, a citizen of the Comanche Nation of Oklahoma who specializes in researching Native American images in media, notes that at the time, it was one of the few mainstream portrayals of Native Americans in popular culture (he calls it “television’s first famous Indian”), and compared the portrayal to the type used on coins immediately before the test pattern came into use.

Sadly, the people credited with inventing the color test pattern haven’t gotten a ton of public recognition for it

Let’s say you’re floating around an obituary page in a newspaper—let’s say the Los Angeles Times—and you see this line crop up:

He earned his engineering and electronics degrees from Lehigh University and his master’s from Princeton University. Dave had a distinguished career with 13 patents to his name, including the color television and the color test pattern.

This guy has a patent for inventing the color TV? And there’s not a reported obituary about his life?

That was an experience that readers of the Times could have had in August of 2018, when an obituary for the 91-year-old Norbert David Larky (who generally went by his middle name) ran in its newspaper.

Clearly, this was a missed opportunity for the L.A. Times, as Larky (along with David D. Holmes) legitimately did receive the first patent for the color test pattern generator, which was granted in 1956 after being filed for in 1951.

The color TV concept does predate Larky, but as an employee of early color television innovator RCA, he did develop some key patents on that front.

To be clear, there is evidence that Larky and Holmes have received the initial patent for this invention, though others were, without realizing it, competing with them around the same time. For example, Charles J. Hirsch of the technology company Hazeltine wrote a lengthy piece for the academic journal Advances in Electronics and Electron Physics in 1953, in which he described that company’s work on color television, including a discussion on the creation of color bars.

These test bars, throughout their evolutions—with the most recent occurring in 2002 to account for the HDTV switch—remain important in the television industry, as they allow engineers to adjust color schemes to correctly match what’s on the screen and modify accordingly.

But, thinking bigger picture, they represent some of the first electronically produced graphics ever displayed on a screen—a pretty significant development in a world where graphics are everywhere. (Graphics, while a fundamental part of computing today, didn’t become mainstream on computers until the 1970s, when terminals transferred from printers to monitors.)

An example of a black and white test pattern from the mid-1950s. The “Indian head” test pattern of the era is better known, but it’s a relic of the past that doesn’t really need to be displayed anymore. Plenty of places to find that stereotyped image on the internet. 1950sUnlimited/Flickr

Before those color bars, a wide variety of different black-and-white images were used, most notably the “Indian head” graphic created by RCA in 1938, which became the first popular test image of the era.

Writer John R. Meagher explained in a 1948 Radio Electronics article the necessity of these test patterns at the time. Early televisions needed much more in the way of constant tuning, which meant that guidelines that helped owners test for the curve of the picture, the overall focus, the shading, and for interlacing were necessary.

“There is no standard test pattern in general use. The nearest thing to a standard is the RCA ‘Indian head’ monoscope, which is used by a number of TV stations,” Meagher wrote. “[The Radio Manufacturers Association] has proposed a standard ‘resolution chart,’ but for various reasons it has not been adopted by TV stations for air use.”

During the early television era, this image showed up multiple times a day on some channels, along with an accompanying sine wave tone, which generally blared at a 1kHz frequency. (You’ve assuredly heard this dull blare many times in your life.)

Over time, color bars became even more familiar to TV viewers than the black and white equivalents. (Probably a good thing, as the black-and-white test pattern used a stereotypical image of Native Americans.)

Beyond its technical reasons for existence—initially, it was used for calibration in early color televisions, and is today used as a way to ensure chroma and luminance levels in modern screens of all types—it became a pop culture icon of its own. The mobile game show HQ Trivia, for example, directly riffs on the color bars just before a game starts, integrating a modern twist on a vintage look. And Elliott Smith wrote a song about them.

While the NTSC version is probably the best known, it’s not the only one that large numbers of people recognize. Outside of North America, a highly complex PAL variant developed by the electronics company Philips in the mid-1960s has frequently appeared on television in different parts of the world over the years.

TV pictures eventually became much easier to keep tuned, which meant that the reasoning for the regular use of color bars and other test patterns was less essential on a regular basis, but they became a part of the fabric of modern life, especially on cable channels that didn’t have enough content to fill out an entire day.

Why does the NTSC color bar system look the way it does?

Over the years, the color bar test pattern has evolved multiple times to cover different color schemes, with the basic guideline for NTSC sets managed by the Society of Motion Picture and Television Engineers. As the YouTube video highlights above, the exact sequence of color bars evolved significantly from its first appearance in 1954—in which the bottom bars, a small part of the test sequence today, once took up more than half of the screen.

But even if the general design has evolved and the use case has become a bit more narrow, they remain incredibly common.

The most well-known design for the color bars, set by the Society of Motion Picture and Television Engineers in 1978 and updated in 1990, uses three rows of bars.

The first row, intended to show a basic color field, relies on a general mixture of the three primary colors—red, green, and blue—in different combinations, starting with white (though it is displayed as something of a grayish color in practice), then going to yellow (a combination of red and green), cyan (a combination of green and blue), green, magenta (a combination of red and blue), red, and blue. (Some variants, including the original 1954 specification and the more recent HDTV version, add tones of gray or black.)

On a TV screen, these blocks appear as a row of colors, but if you look at the bars in a waveform monitor, it displays the colors in a stair-step layout to highlight the scale of brightness, with the brightest color on the left and the darkest on the right.

An example of a grayscale version of the NTSC color bars, with the blue hues separated out, given a blue “multiply” hue in Photoshop. As you’ll see, the top two rows of bars line up. Image: Photo illustration via Wikimedia Commons

The tiny second row, added in the 1978 edition of the color bars, exists essentially as an alignment system for color that takes personal judgment out of the equation. If you were to display only a blue version of the screen, as much professional equipment does, the middle bars will closely match with the top. The result is that you can measure color hue and saturation quickly and objectively, which comes in handy if, say, you’re working with a lot of video equipment and you need to calibrate it.

The final row (which I’m simplifying a little for sake of not going over people’s heads) contains full-intensity white block and a low-intensity black block. Along with other blocks—a dull purple and blue block that are used to ensure the color signal is being properly demodulated, and a series of short black bars, known as the “pluge pulse,” that help calibrate black levels on the monitor—the bottom row effectively works as something of a utility row to help fine-tune different settings, something shown in the Lynda.com video above.

The result is that you can calibrate screens consistently and perfectly across the board—something that still matters in the world of video production, even if our modern TV sets need it less.

“When we did it, nobody thought it would last for more than a few years, because none of the other test cards had.”

— Carole Hersee, known as the BBC’s “Test Card girl,” discussing how her picture, which appeared within a test card shown during dead periods on the BBC schedule for more than 30 years, making the picture of her—sitting next to a stuffed clown toy, doing a tic-tac-toe puzzle—one of the most common seen on British television. The card, shown between 1967 and 1998, disappeared from air between 1998 and 2009, at which point it returned with BBC’s HD broadcasts to help digital TV owners tune their screens. Hersee, who was 50 at the time of its reappearance, wasn’t necessarily psyched about her childhood photo making a comeback. “I am a bit bemused as I would have thought they would want to modernize it, but if they feel it is suitable to use after all these years, then fine,” she told The Telegraph.

An example of a test pattern on Netflix’s website, which borrows some inspiration from the BBC’s Test Card F. We’ve come a long way from the test patterns of the 1940s. Image: Netflix

There are test patterns hiding all over Netflix, and they’re more entertaining than some of their shows

These types of test patterns, despite not being useful for most TV owners, have never gone away. In fact, they retain much of their value in professional contexts.

And if you go digging far enough on YouTube, you can find examples of test patterns being used by major networks, some of which differ greatly from the standard styles you’re used to.

But those color-bar variants from CBS and NBC are nothing compared to what you can find on Netflix. Netflix, despite having no traditional broadcast component, has numerous test signals openly hanging out on its platforms, and they are fascinating.

Netflix has four “seasons” of what is guaranteed to be its most ASMR show, called “Test Patterns.” For the most part, the tests are simple, showing moving images, bright colors, and simple noises. They seem like the kind of thing that we should not be able to find on Netflix, Easter eggs of a sort, but they’re so easy fo find that you don’t even need an account to view them.

These test patterns are far from alone, either. There are numerous examples of tests on the service, including a test for sRGB graphics, tests of different menu styles, and examples of test footage designed for testing motion and high dynamic range.

One of the greatest examples of the test footage on Netflix is an 11-minute “example show”, dating to the early 2010s and starring an actor named “Actor.” An unintentional example of the kind of content Netflix should be making, it’s an endlessly fascinating watch, as the unnamed actor runs through the Netflix headquarters, behind a water fountain, and at one point moonwalks while holding a laptop.

I recently immersed myself in Netflix looking for examples of these, and it was endlessly entertaining. Given the fact that Netflix has literally thousands of hours of stuff to watch, it makes sense that I would choose to look for stuff that they don’t actually intend on you watching.

YouTube itself, side note, is known for unusual tests of its own: It has a test channel called Webdriver Torso which shows very brief animations of blocky images in quick succession. Sometimes, the images feature a silhouette of Rick Astley. It was not known whether Webdriver Torso was a test channel initially. It just showed up on YouTube one day, and people noticed. Eventually, Google confirmed it was a test channel, and if you search for the term on Google, an Easter egg replaces the Google logo.

The color bar design, more complex than it seems, is so utterly pervasive in modern life that we kind of ignore it’s there.

But one person who did not ignore it was David D. Holmes, the late co-creator of the color bars, who died in 2006. After his passing, a letter that he sent family members was emailed to the video production website Video University. And it was obvious to him how much of an impact his color bar generator had made on modern culture.

An example of color bars painted, in mural form, inside of a barber shop, given a off-kilter tone thanks to lomography. Cameron Russell/Flickr

“Later, when traveling around the world, I saw color bar generators everywhere. There were tens of thousands of them,” Holmes wrote to family members in 2005. “If you see any news room on TV you will likely see color bars on one of the monitors. They show up on the air now and then from BBC in London and others. They are exactly the same as the first one I built fifty-five years ago.”

Which makes it sad that neither Holmes nor Larky received broad notice for this invention that remains in use for video production facilities globally. There are TV shows and movies—lots of them—that have gotten less exposure than the color bars have over the years, and they’ve come and gone. Color bars have certainly changed—they kind of had to, given the fact that our screen sizes changed—but they’ve remained persistent, not just to test image quality, but as an iconic part of television all its own.

You should celebrate this amazing invention by watching them on your screen for a while. You never know. Something might happen.

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