#Leather Cord Softening Techniques

[sunnetherlands]

Unlocking the Softness: How to Soften Leather Cords at Sun Enterprises

At Sun Enterprises, we understand that the softness and flexibility of leather cords usa are crucial aspects when it comes to crafting exquisite jewelry and accessories. Our high-quality wholesale leather cords are known for their durability and beauty, but sometimes you may need them to be a bit softer for your specific projects. In this guide, we’ll explore various methods to soften leather…

[drstonetrivia]

Chapter 13 Trivia

Extremely rare no-abs shirtless male character from Dr. Stone. Keep this picture safe, it's the only one of its kind…

This is the same location as Taiju passed through on his journey, but taken from an angle slightly further back. Some parts look a little different, but the same broken statues are present.

The monkeys that follow Senku around are Japanese macaques, which are a species of Old World monkey present across most of Japan. They are also the most northern-living primate (not counting humans), and as such are adapted to the colder Japanese climate in the year 5738.

Senku couldn't start a fire with this setup, but neither would Taiju or Yuzuriha. The wood is wrong: the bottom should be stable like a plank, with a divot and a notch in it for catching the embers. The drill part should be much thinner, without bark, and rounded at the end.

Chert is a 7 on the Mohs scale, so it's hard, but not "off the charts".

Senku uses two percussion techniques to shape the stone: hard-hammer and bipolar. The former is used more frequently as it is more precise, but the latter is used when the stone isn't good quality.

After the rough shaping, Senku grinds the stone to have a polished edge, which makes it more durable. Polishing flint/chert is one of the markers of the transition from the Mesolithic to Neolithic Stone Age, as polished axes were more efficient at clearing trees for farmland.

I spent some time testing how to make plant cord, and Senku's methods are correct. Scraping away at the plant removes the bark and non-fiber-y parts leaving the long strings behind. Flax, hemp, and nettles are good plant choices, as they have longer fibers for twisting.

Senku's rope looks like 1-ply, meaning only a single strand is being twisted. This seems to contradict his earlier hand motions, as twisting parts in both hands would result in 2-ply, but his inexperience may be the reason it didn't work correctly. More plys means stronger rope.

Rubbing sticks raises the heat of the wood through friction, but the goal is to get the wood hot enough to decompose into what's known as pyrolysis products. Those products burn in oxygen, which then raises the heat more and creates a chain reaction, setting the wood on fire.

Assuming this deer is an adult Japanese sika deer, it weighs around 40-70kg. Senku at this point probably weighs under 61kg. In order to confidently lift a deer, Senku needs to have a counterweight of at least 70kg.

In this case, he bends a small tree using his own weight (one handed, even), but the chance of this tree being that elastic and capable of lifting over 60kg without simply breaking is almost impossible.

The more realistic option would have been using a counterweight such as a large log or stone, so that when the trap is activated, the counterweight falls and the trapped animal goes up.

However, that requires Senku to be able to lift something that heavy above his head.

Making leather requires several steps that can take several weeks to several months to complete. The hides need to be scraped and soaked in special solutions, have tannins added, and other processes.

The gnawing Senku is doing happens after the tanning, and is used to soften the leather. The modern way to do it is to rub it across a smooth/rounded surface, such as a sawhorse or metal pipe. The bending will make it more supple and won't destroy your jaw.

We see that one of the snow monkeys has a baby on their back. Snow monkey babies are normally born from April to June. Four months after birth, the babies are too big to hang from their mother's underside, so they move to her back.

The earliest this time scene could be is therefore August, which is about 2 months before Taiju depetrified. Any of Senku's experiments or builds likely happened in those last 2 months, since we don't see him progress with anything else before then.

I know this chapter took a while, but the topics were too interesting and also testable so I went a little overboard with how hard I was looking things up haha!

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

Guess what, guys? IT’S WEDNESDAY! >:D You know what that means~!

TIME TO SHARE!

I’m excited because I finally, finally found the inspiration and motivation to write chapter 13 of my main fic! And I used the good old, ‘And he returned...’ technique! X’D

Time to talk about mages and templars everybody!

“Ma halla,” Cyfrin’s voice came forward, laced with tiredness and unusually serious as his eyes fell upon his sister, “the Chantry has not had control over either side for years. If they had, the Chantry in Kirkwall wouldn't have met the fate that it did.” He picked up the stick they had been using to tend the fire, giving the logs a gentle poke and sending sizzling embers upwards, “Now, it is merely a war of endurance; who can last the longest and who can end it with the most spite, the most damage. Blood will run for many moons as it has for several years now. Except this time, light is being shone on those crimson puddles rather than being mopped up with a," A finger rose to slender lips, a pantomime of silence and secrecy.

Fane sighed, grimacing a bit when Mhairi shifted against his side and watching those embers rise and then blink out of existence. Cyfrin was right. This was a war without end, and each side was merely swinging at whatever happened to move now. Power corrupted, and it had done so in this instance; mages overwhelmed by the taste of air, magic responding with giddy excitement; templars breaking the chains that held their hands and feet in place, as well as their swords. Both had never known what it meant to be free, and now that they had it in aces, they couldn’t cope with it.  All the common folk, them included, could do was wait it out, like a parent waiting for their child, who refused to listen, to settle down. That was all there was to it.

Fane slowly rubbed his palms together, wringing his fingers a bit as he spoke, “Whatever it is now, it doesn’t matter. It’s a mess made for a different rag,” With a tired movement, he let his head roll to the side a bit to rest atop his sister’s, relishing in its silkiness. To think, he had almost abandoned that comfort for fear. He continued with another sigh, “All that matters is staying away from it. It isn’t our fight; it never has been.”

Silence passed between them all after his words had fallen, the crackling of the fire and the drone of crickets and cicadas the only sounds to fill the air. Cyfrin only gave him a nod that said, 'I agree' before going back to idly poking at the fire. However, Fane could feel something like a tense ripple from Mhairi, her body suddenly rigid where it rested against him.

Shit, Fane thought, growling a bit as he recognized this rolling wave exuding off Mhairi. He should have kept his mouth shut.

A few more moments of silence passed before the words he had been dreadfully waiting for passed lips gingerly being bitten into.

"Is it really not our fight, though?," Mhairi asked in a sheepish whisper. Fane watched from over his nose as delicate hands appeared from under fur and cotton, pink with Fereldan chill and palms up, "Or at least, my fight? I mean, I'm a mage, so really--"

"Mhairi," Fane cut off his sister's words, voice dropping low in warning, "Whatever's going through your head right now, end it."

Fane caught the flicker of amber from across the way, their owner knowing where this was going as much as he did, but he was more focused on ice as it hardened before him. He was not going to entertain this ridiculous train of thought! Was his sister mad!?

"But, brother--!"

"Enough," Fane snapped with a harshness he rarely used with her, "Do you want a templar on your heels!? Do you want to be silenced again!?"

Nostrils flared as he brandished a glare downwards, but his irritation cooled as Mhairi's icy gaze melted and turned downwards, guilt and pain in turquoise. Fane frowned deeply at that. Shit, he hadn't meant to…! Damn it all! This was why he should have left on his own! All he did was pull down, down, down! He could never find the right words!

"Of course I don't want those things, brother. You know that," Mhairi said with tightness, voice like a taut cord before letting out a tiny sigh, down-turned eyes staring pointedly at her hands--the tools for which another tool could be wielded in, "It just...feels wrong to turn away and let not only the mages and templars suffer, but innocent people, too. The people on farms and in villages didn't ask to be involved, but they are." A gentle blue glow enshrouded slender fingers and smooth palms, making Fane's nose twitch in irritation and his stomach roll uncomfortably, but he watched it same as her, "I guess I just want to help them, to show them that it doesn't have to end in flames. Magic is beautiful, and it hurts to know no one but the Dalish recognize that."

Fane listened, rapt and attentive even though he knew his face showed otherwise. Mhairi had vocalized these thoughts before to him, and while he understood where she was coming from, that still didn't mean this was their fight. What was there to gain from throwing themselves into the pan? Nothing but an early grave, that's what. Or worse yet, tranquility. The very idea of that happening to his sister made him sick. How such a practice came to be was beyond him, and yet, it made his mind prickle and pull with those odd feelings of ‘wrongness’. Obviously, stripping a person of their emotions was vile and grotesque and disgusting, but it felt like something more to him. It always felt like more with so little.

Fane let out a long sigh through his nose at himself and his sister, the air condensing in front of him, "It's not your job to present that to the world, Mhairi." He shifted a bit, the fur lining of his cloak brushing against the bottom of his cheeks as he did so. He was starting to get warm, uncomfortably warm.

"Isn't it?," his sister forwarded, pressed, pushed, sparkling eyes slowly rolling upwards to look at him; the glow of her hands fading away to let firelight take center stage again, "I’m a--”

Fane growled, his chest rattling from the depth of it. “Yes, you’re a mage, My, but that’s more likely to get you killed, or worse, made tranquil than understood,” He met her slowly narrowing gaze unflinchingly before sighing tiredly, shoulders slumping and voice softening at the look of hurt in icy blue, “Listen: stop chasing after trouble. No good can come from involving yourself in this mess,” His tired eyes shifted to the fire once more, watching it dance and consume both air and forest wood, “This continent is engulfed in war, and it’s not your job to fix the mistakes of others just because of what you are. That type of blind thinking is exactly why all that’s happened, happened.”

He felt his fists ball up against where his hands were resting between his thighs from anxiety and frustration, the skin along his arms pinching to where he could finally feel his scars start to act up. Great. Just what he needed alongside all this ridiculousness. Why did his sister always have to play this card? Yes, she was a mage, but there were a thousand more who could, but wouldn’t do what his sister wished to. And why? Because they knew it was pointless as narrow perspectives were set in the stone of ages.

Time and time again mages had tried and failed to show the world the intended use for magic. Time and time again restrictions were set ever tighter because of those harmless displays, the Chantry crying, ‘Demon, demon! Blood magic, blood magic!’, and a single, single show of defense against such accusations was treated as a literal felony. Now, the Fade touched were doing the only thing they could think to do after so many disappointments; fight. A caged animal was bound to break the door holding it back, and that was exactly what had happened to every Circle; they broke.

They went silent, voices stolen straight from their throats, emotions ripped away so as to be unable to defend themselves any longer, and the beauty his sister desperately wished to show no longer relevant as it had no place in war, in a world where beauty was a stranger. Fane didn’t have much allegiance to either side, both were foolish and pathetic and tiring, and despite his personal experience with magic, he didn’t detest it. It had its uses, just not on him and that was because he didn’t relish getting uncontrollably ill. He was open minded enough to know magic hadn’t been the true culprit, it had only been like the innocents in this pointless war; used against its will. It had been the blade that carved the stone of his body, but it hadn’t been the hand to wield it.

So, he would admit he felt sorry for the endlessly warring factions, even the templars despite his personal feelings regarding them. To be played like a fiddle by a bunch of tottering zealots, zealots that used ‘faith’ as their bargaining chip to garner influence and power while declaring, ‘It is the Maker’s will’. Sadly, despite how thin the veil of deceit was, the people fell for it like raindrops during a heavy downpour, fast and hard. Was it the humans’ ‘god’s’ will to rip away independent thought? To sunder the minds of those who broke the leash long having held them back?

To indiscriminately kill another on the basis of ‘you’re a mage’ or ‘you’re a templar’ or ‘you’re a threat to our power’? Apparently so. Tragic, but there was nothing to be done about it now and Mhairi needed to understand that.

She needed to understand there was no ‘beauty’ in war.

Mhairi let out a disgruntled huff before her form shifted away from him to sit up. Fane squeezed his already tight fists tighter, the leather of his gloves creaking from the force as he watched his sister rise up from the log, her action calm, but her eyes and face held frustration in delicate edges and firelit ice. He felt his expression go hard as he sat up straight, silently mourning the loss of momentary comfort. Again, he should have kept his mouth shut. Why did he even try using words?

“I think I can see perfectly well, brother. I saw the corpses mutilated beyond recognition, the burnt buildings and the sacked ones, the people crying over what they lost, children wailing as their parents wouldn’t wake up. I saw,” Mhairi said, lilt strained and lips twitching with the urge to bend downwards as a forlorn mutter came after, “I wish you would stop treating me like I don’t, like a child.”

With that, Fane watched his sister quickly stride away towards where they had pitched tents, darkened cloak fluttering behind her and kicking up the dusting of snow with her partially bare feet. It was only when Mhairi completely disappeared from his sight, safely burrowing into her tent, did he let out a sigh, the exhalation hard and long.

“Damn it all,” Fane cursed out under his breath, bringing hand out and up from his cloak to rub at his face. He felt ten years older all of a sudden. Scratch that, a thousand years older. How much older could he potentially feel at this rate?

“Tactful as always, ma falon.”

----

Fane can be incredibly harsh, and a downright jerk sometimes. He doesn’t mince words or give platitudes. He says it how he sees it. 

Tagging: @noire-pandora @oxygenforthewicked @varric-tethras-editor @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine @drag-on-age @a-drama-addict @little-lightning-lavellan @whataboutbugs @blueheaded @aymayzing @rosella-writes @1000generations and anyone else that’d like to share! (no pressure! <3)

[fleckcmscott]

Out of Sight

Summary: Y/N has an unexpected dash of inspiration. Arthur doesn't require much convincing.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 4,221

A/N: This fun little request comes from @sweet-nothings04​​. You're wonderful and I hope this meets your expectations. Thanks for the request - I can't imagine ever writing this without it! 🙈 Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul​ for agreeing to beta!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Words didn't often fail Y/N, but the admission left her foggy, reminiscent of what she'd experienced after tipping over in a wheelbarrow race at a school fair. Her foot swung back and forth as she sat on the counter. Fiddled with the phone cord and twisted its beige, plastic curls around her fingers. Were there signs she'd missed? Was her gut right in insisting she was a terrible friend?

"Marriage counseling?" she repeated.

Arthur stopped filling his bowl with sandy, pecan cookies, alarm encroaching his features. She waved off his concern, mouthing "not us" before she spoke into the receiver. "I'm so sorry." With a grimace of understanding, he patted her knee and ducked out, sweets in hand. No doubt he'd ask her to elaborate. Not that she had anything to share. Not yet. "I had no idea you and Robert were having problems."

Patricia laughed lightly on the other end. "Neither of us have our bags packed." A whistle came from the background. Vague cheering. Then mild cursing about how terrible this season's Gotham Guardsmen's picks were. She sighed. "The little green monster's dropped-in since your wedding. Don't get me wrong. I couldn't be happier for you if you were my own sister."

Y/N wished Patricia was within arm's reach instead of all the way in Burnside.

"Next month we'll have been married thirty-five years," Patricia continued with a rare nostalgia. "We're a team, Robert and me. But we've both let things go, gotten old. I'd like the spark back before we lose the kindling."

Pursing her lips, Y/N bit back her qualms. Rebutting the steps Patricia had taken was uncalled for, and doubly so when she needed her support. Besides. Y/N understood them. She'd climbed them once, too.

When she'd begun to figure out the direction in which the weather vane of her life pointed, the comfort and confidence she'd shared with her ex-husband had started to wither. Transformed over the years into an awareness that her childish belief in love being enough was inaccurate. It was natural, she thought in hindsight. They'd wed at seventeen and twenty-one. But divorce had been uncommon back then, particularly in a small town in the Bible Belt. The night she'd moved in with a friend (a tactic to delay confessing defeat to her family), Jeff suggested they speak with a professional. Though her heart had known it was over, she cared for him. She couldn't deny them the chance to salvage their union, no matter how remote.

A solitary counselor was available, a disadvantage of rural living. The man claimed to be a pioneer in couples therapy, having begun his practice in the thirties. One forty-five-minute drive later and they'd found themselves squished into a leather loveseat in a smoky, cramped office. Diplomas and certificates covered the walls, the veracity of which she couldn't verify. Dr. Ellis's puffy pink cheeks and offer of sweet tea had been kinder than his approach.

Fountain pens and worksheets were provided with the mumbled instruction to answer honestly. But the questions had not fit her situation. They were for women who desired to be happy homemakers. To plan meals and do the weekly shopping. To nurse children and have dinner ready by six. Responsibilities and life stages that had given her mother purpose - a purpose that mostly eluded Y/N. Every comma and quotation mark inferred fault. And Dr. Ellis had read her responses like a disappointed teacher.

Somehow the filmstrips, accompanied by a crackling LP, were worse. Mr. Provider and Mrs. Housewife were featured. He consistently came home on time. She always wore an apron. The narrator's spiritless voice contrasted with the cheery soundtrack while matching Y/N's mood. A lively ping! cued them to advance to the next still, a duty switched between her and Jeff to practice teamwork. At least the sidelong looks they shared could still connect them.

The slides, the homework, the speeches. They all pointed to one problem: her. Her parents were a model couple. Didn't she know encouraging her husband in his livelihood was her job? That his main obligation was to invite her to share his success? She had to mend her ways. Make herself more attractive. Be grateful he displayed his affection by returning to her after a long day at the office; he could just as easily hang out at The Rusty Boot.

Not a little indignant, she'd stared at Jeff's profile. Downcast eyes betrayed his regret and assured she'd maintain composure, for his sake if nothing else. She fixed her focus on Dr. Ellis and gave the situation a good, long think. Jeff had never questioned her ambitions. Who the hell was this jackass to judge?

She'd covered Jeff's hand, rubbed his knuckle with her thumb. "You're the expert here, doctor. But isn't it possible neither party is at fault?"

"Mrs. Thompson, I've heard that misconception from many of my clients. It's never led anywhere positive. Now-"

"But what if they're both good people?" she interrupted, hanging onto diplomacy by a thread. Her resolve stayed, even as her volume lowered at the prospect of wounding the man she'd loved as a girl. "Good people who've grown apart?"

Dr. Ellis took what she'd learned was his usual position on the corner of his cherry desk. "You're mistaking natural sex differences for incompatibility. Not every husband allows his wife to work outside the home." His paternal smile hadn't diminished the sting of his words. "If you want your marriage to thrive, I'd advise a little more maturity. And I think I have just the book to help you."

Twenty tons of silence festered on the ride home, louder than the pulse beating her eardrum. Distress distracted her from noticing the run in her stockings. And it was drizzling. She cracked the passenger window of the Lincoln Continental, anyway. Closed her eyes at the bite of raw air against her overheated face.

"Look, I don't agree with what that guy says," Jeff started. He pulled at the gearshift and flicked the turn-signal. "Not when it comes to you."

As the car came to a stop, she swiped at her eyes. "I'm not going again." The press of a napkin to her palm prompted a mix of appreciation and annoyance. For his courtesy and that he'd detected her tears. "Do you even like being married to me?"

"Y/N-"

"Please." She flinched at his attempt to embrace her. "Don't spare my feelings."

Headlights from a passing car flashed in the cabin, revealing his stretched lips. He raked back his thinning hair. The quiet shake of his head when he moved to gaze at her was a relief. "I miss the girl I fell in love with."

She offered a slight shrug and pulled the corners of the tissue. "I don't like it, either."

His rapid blink softened her posture, along with the recognition that the dream they'd had was also out of reach for him. "I'm proud of the woman you've become," he said. "Even if she's not what I need."

"I don't want to be a lawyer's wife." A quiet laugh bubbled up. "The oral arguments are terrible."

He checked his blind spot and put the sedan back into drive. "I'll file the papers tomorrow. We can tell your parents and sister together. If you'd like." After some seconds, she'd slid across the bench seat and put her head on his shoulder, heartened by an affinity she'd nearly forgotten.

Counseling techniques must have evolved, Y/N considered. Perhaps Patricia would find help instead of blame. If not, tips in women's magazines were a tacky if economical alternative. She'd have to check the breakroom at work for forgotten issues.

She hopped off the counter and poured herself another cup of decaf. "Let me know if we can do anything. And how it goes."

"The first few sessions were great. I picked up a few booklets. 'Modern Marriage,' 'The Complete Woman...' Oh!" Paper shuffled as Y/N put back the milk. "'Enrichment & Exploration: Tips for Bedroom Fun.' I tried reading it with Robert the other night, but he left when I mentioned massagers and blindfolds."

"He's sixty," Y/N snorted. "Give him time."

Peeking around the corner, she spotted Arthur in his writing nook. He stood to stretch, then grab his lighter and pack of Stuttons. The low sit of his pajama bottoms was enough of a temptation for her to tuck her lip. An unexpected spasm tickled her abdomen. "Brief me on the blindfold chapter."

~~~~~

Nervous anticipation had kept her feverish for hours, ever since she'd bid farewell to Arthur with a "Save a smile for me" on her way out the door. His clumsy smooch lingered as she changed the date on her rubber stamp. While she cleaned the office refrigerator, she spent a good sixty seconds pressing a cup of expired yogurt to her flush cheeks. When the shoulder strap of her canvas bag gave out, she shrugged rather than cursed and settled the tote in her lap. With her plan in mind, the corners of her lips refused to relax .

After working the grand opening of the Gotham Mall, Arthur had the workshop she'd registered him for, a beginners' seminar for stand-ups. He'd be home right around six. That would give her thirty minutes to change into her mini nightdress with the ruffled hemline, dab musk oil behind her earlobes, and put on an LP. Dinner would be delayed - neither of them would be in the mood if they were too full. If she remembered correctly, they had a pizza in the freezer, the good kind with the real pepperoni and rising crust. She just had to figure out if she should wait in the bedroom or lounge on the sofa like a poor-man's Lauren Bacall.

As she unlocked the apartment, however, there came a muffled phomp-phomp-phomp. The unmistakable sound of a sink plunger. Fuck. This was the third time this month. Pushing through the door, she hoped the super had called a different plumber. It had taken ages to clean up the stray sediment left behind by the last one. Upon entering, Arthur's plaid bag came into view, next to his keys on the counter. A glance into the kitchen confirmed he was trying his hand at the repair. 

"Hey." Y/N hung her coat, glad her consternation was hidden by the wall. "What happened to your class?" she asked with deliberate playfulness. "Did they decide you were too advanced?" She crossed her arms and moved to the doorway. Tried to hold onto the tendrils of fading arousal by taking him in.

A pleased chuckle. "The instructor left a message." Phomp-phomp-phomp."It'll be rescheduled."

"I know you were looking forward to it." The rolled-up sleeves of his shirt and flexing biceps were having the right effect. She ambled towards him. "Let me help."

"It's fine. I had to do this a lot at my old place." The set of his jaw tightened as it gave it another go.

They went through the litany of usual questions. Arthur contently reported the mall had gone well, except for a couple of teenagers who'd given him grief at the start. ("Nothing serious. They were just kids.") Her nine-to-five had been quite low-key, she explained, and had allowed her to catch-up on a backlog of paperwork. ("With the new judge, we keep having to file motions for correction.") But when he asked about this evening, she mused and tapped her fingertips on the counter. Horny, annoyed at her thwarted plan, yet nevertheless itching to seduce him

Water streamed as he turned the faucet's handle, followed by his satisfied hum. He tidied up, then washed to his elbows. Grabbed the nearby dish towel and pivoted on his heel to face her. "What is it?" he asked at her lack of response. He wiped his hands a little harder. "I thought you'd be glad I'm already here."

Seeking to allay his concern, she scooted next to him with a gentle nudge. "You know I am. You've been running through my head all day." She scrunched her nose. "I just had this idea for a romantic evening and wanted to surprise you."

"Oh." Pink colored his chiseled cheekbones and his eyes softened. "You still could. I'd like that." Ardor sparked anew in her belly. Unfurled as he leaned into her, grin cutting across his mouth and straight into her heart. "Would ten minutes be enough?"

Her toes curled. His enthusiasm for her, for them, had a habit of sending electricity up her spine. "Better make it eight," she pronounced.

A sharp nod and a pat to her bottom later, he dashed off. Once the bathroom door shut, Y/N rushed to rummage in his workbag, delighted when she found her prize. She scurried to the stereo and put on one of her soul records. Adjusted the volume to a suggestion instead of distraction. Though the genre wasn't his favorite, it never failed to induce the swivel of his hips. Unbuttoning, unzipping, she made her way to the bedroom. Yanked off her tan skirt and jacquard sweater before carelessly tossing them in the nearby chair.

She'd just gotten settled on the foot of the bed when Arthur sauntered in. Clad in his white briefs and wrinkled socks. "That was five," she said and wadded her pantyhose to hurl at him.

He dodged it easily, stepping forward to gaze at her with hooded eyes, their clear green darkened with need. He licked his lips. "I think it was four." Without further preamble, he knelt between her legs. Scrambling up the bed, she kicked subtly against his hold on her calves. Bit her lip on a giggle as he crawled over her lap to smother her with kisses. She rested on the headboard and nabbed his red and gold Carnival tie from under her pillow.

He quirked a dark brow. "What, you want me to wear it?"

Before any reservation could resurface, she smoothed the broad neck of the tie over her eyes and secured it loosely at her temple. Hesitation floated through the air. Threatened to pierce the veil of desire that enveloped her. She wondered what he was waiting for. If he was wearing that wolfish grin he saved for the bedroom. Or if a modicum of anxiety had spawned. She had sprung this on him without prior discussion. The muffled music from the living room switched to the next song. She attempted to peek under the bottom of the makeshift blindfold, tried to make out more than a vague shadow in the muted light.

But then he sunk into her. Wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed her into the mattress. "If you're uncomfortable, tell me," he murmured into her mouth. "Please."

The implication of his request, albeit more loving than licentious, wracked her with want. She couldn't halt her shudder. Blindly, she reached to cup his face. "I trust you," she promised. To both him and herself.

His round nose dragged down the underside of her jaw. "Where'd you get this idea?"

The caress of his smile on the crook of her neck caused a delicious heaviness to settle in her center. "A pamphlet."

"On what?" He tugged at the knot between her ample breasts. Fondled her through the thin satin. "How to make your husband high-strung?"

She carefully skimmed the rigid bulge in his briefs with her knee. "It was actually on how to loosen him up," she retorted. He always loved it when she paraphrased one of his jokes.

Every hushed kiss, every whisper of him against her flesh was magnified. Forced her to concentrate solely on him, to pay attention to each move he made. His humid, hot breath teased her nipple, prompted it to pebble with a twinge. When she released an embarrassingly desperate whimper, he snorted lightly and slipped his palm to the middle of her back. Following his lead, she arched into him. His soft curls brushed her as he laved her areola, swirled his tongue around it, her skin coming alive at the contact. Weathered hands that had so eagerly learned how to touch her groped her neglected breast, rolled its peak between slender, nimble fingers. She fisted the pillow, tipped her head, and grasped his shoulder with a cry. "Arthur..."

Getting her going usually wasn't difficult. Especially when she'd been thinking about making love for an inappropriate number of office hours. But the suspense of not seeing where he'd next pet her, of every caress being a discovery, had her core already pulsing for him. The intrigue was a treat. The best case she'd ever worked on. His strokes walked a path to every clue.

His fingertips skimmed her inner thighs. Groaning, he hooked them under the waistband of her bikini, tugged until she lifted her rear. He pulled them off hastily. With a gentle pressure, he encouraged her to open herself to him. She did so gladly, splaying her legs without a hint of self-consciousness. The relatively cool temperature of the room hit her hot, swollen folds and she quivered.

Then there was an odd sensation at her clit. Scratchy. Rough like a canvas. And was that a corner? After a few seconds it was clear it wasn't doing it for her. And she didn't think Arthur was trying to wipe away her slick. Reaching down, she found a twisted bedsheet in his fist. She was relieved he hadn't run to the kitchen for ice.

"Not good?" he asked.

She softened the blow. "You feel better."

The pad of his thumb trailed over her patch of springy hair, a faint tease that sent a dizzying current racing through her limbs. She strove towards him but he didn't oblige. Rather, he took her hand and placed it on her labia. Guided her to dip within her inner lips. A short moan left her, at the sensation and the sound of his increasingly labored breathing, tinged by his deep voice. "You look like sex," he blurted.

Laughing, she halted. Whenever something brazen spilled from his mouth, however left-footed, she adored it. She clasped his sides. "What does that mean?"

"If I'd seen you in a magazine," he started, moving to settle over and straddle her. His hard-on grazed her abdomen, leaving a damp trail of his arousal in its wake. Even as she wondered when he'd taken off his underwear, her muscles tensed and she gasped. Playful pecks met her cleavage. "You'd be pasted on every page of my journal."

Her reply slipped out before discretion could take hold. "We better buy a Polaroid." A stitch of reluctance before she added, "Just keep them in your desk."

He uncurled her fingers and pressed her palm to his chest. "Touch me," he whispered, pleaded. Her pulse quickened. With an unhurried deliberation, he guided her over the peaks and valleys of his body. The lean pectorals she loved to nuzzle after a weary day. The freckled indent of his sternum. Downward, to the slightly loose skin around his navel, then the soft, toned curve of his abdomen.

Unable to resist, she stretched to chart the ridge of muscle leading to his groin. "You make me so wet."

He let out a bashful giggle, edged with excitement. The instant he rasped his next words against her forehead, she knew he was doing his damnedest to rival her. He pushed her hand to his erection. "You make me so hard."

She followed the bulging vein from base to tip, encircled him with a firm grip. The vibration of his harsh grunt rumbled through her and he jerked forward. Released her wrist to stroke her vulva and flick back and forth along her aching nub. Focusing on the satiny feel of his flesh, the heaviness of his length, she felt petite. Feminine. Powerful. Her hand glided between his legs, cupped the sensitive skin with care. His practiced rhythm faltered. The elbow beside her ear trembled.

While he was a captivating visual, one she missed, her imagination was determined to compensate for her lack of sight. Breathless moans spun her fantasies. Perspiration tickled her nose, woodsy and sweet, conjuring memories of his taste in her mouth. Then all at once he was inside her, going down on her, sucking at her while fucking into her. Impossible feats that nevertheless caused a fever in her brain. "Oh, god," she mewled. Her wanton writhing hastened. She ground against his thigh. "I want your cock in me."

He took hold of himself as she held herself open. The blunt tip of him slid just inside her entrance, a drop when she needed an ocean. She grabbed his hips and thrust upward, hissing as he stretched her completely. "You're fucking tight," he uttered through clenched teeth.

She smoothed her palms over his back, memorized each notch of his ribs. The odd angle of his distended shoulder. The strong tendons at the nape of his neck. He crushed her closer, until her mouth bumped his clavicle. She nibbled lightly, licked the salty sheen of sweat from its hollow, drawing her name from his lips and rapid bucks of his pelvis. "Fuck me," she said, a command and an appeal.

A creak came from above. She followed his taut arm to find he'd clutched the headboard. It occurred to her, then, that her inability to see had been liberating for him. Enough to let go of his inhibitions, to give voice to the bawdy, wonderful things he'd said, to not worry about his appearance.

She reached to swipe her clit steadily, relentlessly. Tears pricked her eyes as she became weightless. Her frame seized, and she came with a choked cry. She sniffled and laughed into his neck, overwhelmed by him. The way he made love to her as if he sought to erase her earlier trials and replace them with the present.

His throaty, punctuated groans, his fingernails digging into her ass divulged his approaching release. She ran her foot along his calf, relished in his body as its angles pressed into her. He balanced himself on his knees, snapping into her at an erratic pace. Then all at once he moaned sharply and went rigid, cock twitching. She cradled the back of his head while his essence marked her walls, closed her eyes when he sprawled on top of her.

Raking her hands through his loose waves, she swallowed thickly. Although she'd always enjoyed sex, exploring this way hadn't been conceivable with anyone else. Allowing that match to light, allowing herself to fan that flame had been unthinkable. She'd felt inadequate. Unable to live up to others' demands, especially her own. There'd been too many boxes to check. Revealing herself in that way would have been a demonstration of trust she wasn't quite ready for.

Being an established woman on equal footing with her partner wasn't something she'd believed possible. She'd been content to go without and find meaning through her work. Arthur had helped her augment that. She could be tough as old leather or delicate as gossamer without concern he'd see her differently. If expectations were left unmet, their easy discussions and compromises promised they'd never become resentments. They supported each other - authentically and as themselves.

For the first time, she knew she was loved for who she truly was. And she wouldn't have to change to keep it.

Choppy panting gradually ceased, replaced by leisurely, happy sighs. He skimmed her flank, then the curve of her hip. She tickled his midriff gently, only stopping when he reclaimed her lips and slid his tongue against hers. Tenderly, he loosened the knot at her temple. She blinked at the orange, evening light invading her eyes. When his came into focus, they were still dilated, a tad sleepy. And so full of affection her breath caught.

Cheek propped on the heel of his hand, he raised his eyebrows. "How was it?"

"You have to ask?" she chuckled, swatting his backside.

A stray lock tumbled towards her as he bent closer. "I wanna hear it."

"Wonderful." Her thighs tightened, keeping him within her. "What I've been craving all day."

His smile was a slow build, equal parts shy and deservedly smug. Then he stared at his tie. "I- I don't know if I'll ever be able to wear that again."

She snorted and looped it around his neck, secured it with a half-Windsor knot. "You're a professional, Mr. Fleck. You'll manage."

He rolled to her left and yanked open the nightstand drawer to riffle through its contents. "What else is in the pamphlet?"

"Hey!" She batted him half-heartedly, boosted herself on her elbow, and spooned him. "What if I had a surprise hidden in there?"

Undeterred, he huffed. "It wouldn't beat this."

"Patricia told me about it." He stilled and slanted his gaze her way. "I can get a copy."

At first, Y/N assumed he'd contradict her. That he wanted to keep their escapades private. But once a few seconds had passed, Arthur acquiesced with a smirk and snatched a nearby tissue. Wiped himself off and tossed it in the woven wastebasket. He reclined beside her, hands folded behind his head. "Okay. Just don't give away my whole act."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @ithinkimaperson​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @fallenstarsabyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​ @tsukiakarinobara​ @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​ @jokerownsmysoul​ @mrscarnival​

[laurelsofhighever]

#9 for the Dragon Age Day prompts!

Happy Dragon Age Day! I don’t even know what this is, just a bit of introspective maybe? But it was fun to write!

Prompt #9 Armour

----

The tourney in Denerim isn’t as grand as the ones inTantervale or Orlais, lacking the celebrity of the career knights errant whopopulate the fields of those high-stake competitions, but Ferelden has enoughwarriors of its own that the mounted joust still draws a heaving crowd.

Sat in a raised box with the rest of the nobility, Rosslyn Couslandrolls her eyes at her brother’s antics as he shows off the paces of his greatgolden charger. She herself is only three months shy of the competition age, andsour about it not only because she can’t show her skill, but Oriana sits nextto her, trying to draw out her opinions of the competitors.

“Why does it matter beyond their skill?” she asks, when thecrooning becomes unbearable. “And shouldn’t Fergus hold your eye?”

“My dear sister, I am not looking to partake,” Orianareplies, pleasantly enough despite the bite of offence in her tone, “but thereis no harm in looking for the appreciation of form. Did the Maker not make usall? It would be a shame not to admire such handiwork.” She smiles. “Which isyour favourite?”

“I don’t know any of them.” She’s more interested in thehorses. She’d judge the riders for their training, if nothing else.

“Surely you must find at least one of them pleasing?” Orianaasks, with the coy little smile Rosslyn has come to despise, the one that’sdecided she must have a secret she’s just unwilling to share. “Look, there isBann Auldubard, and Teagan of Rainesfere – and Vaughan Kendalls is around yourage, is he not? That must be new armour he’s wearing.”

Mention of Vaughan only just stops her short of grinding herteeth. From what she’s heard, it would be worth sneaking in to the melee justto wipe the self-aggrandising smirk from his face.

Unfortunately, her aloofness attracts attention as thetourney progresses. Her favour becomes a prize for them all to win like theother trophies as the day wears on, but she sees behind the facades worn in theshining armour, the vapid self-importance and the pandering. Like the warriorshe was brought up to be, she takes great pleasure in deflating not a few ofthem by pointing out flaws in their technique, finds each one hypocritical thatcalls her proud as they stalk away. It’s a petty vengeance, one that amuses theking even as Oriana and her mother despair, but it’s her only way to soothe thechafe of the court, the silliness of a rose without thorns where the only meaningfulthing is the fluttering of pennants and eyelashes.

It's only later, a year and a half, a world and a life awayin the muddy fields of Ostagar, that her mind wanders back to all those shiningknights on the parade field. They would have made a garish contrast to thequiet desperation surrounding her now. Thesesoldiers are caked in blood and ichor, exhausted, without squires or audienceto congratulate them even in their losses. Darkness has fallen, withoutceremony. She stands before a raging bonfire, darkspawn taint crawling throughher veins while an ill-fitting cuirass digs into her neck, listening to thepart assigned her in the coming battle with dull understanding.

The man standing beside her is little better suited than sheis, in dented red steel with its blue enamel coating mostly scratched off, the too-smallplates linked by worn leather cords and the gaps between them padded by mailand gambeson. The same one who took her into the Wilds, who flinched forward asif to intervene in Jory’s murder. He’s frustrated, angry about not being allowedto join the battle, and for a moment a spark of recognition flickers brightlyenough to pull her from the void of her thoughts to hear him mock hisdispleasure.

“If the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance theremigold,” he grouses, “I’m drawing the line.”

“I’d like to see that.” The words are hollow, acerbic, harsh,and because she truly didn’t mean to speak she can’t tell if she means seeinghim stand up to the king, or in a dress, or dancing.

But he turns to her, his voice softening though maybe not onpurpose. “For you, maybe.” The quirk of a smile. “But it would have to be apretty dress.”

And then it’s like her armour doesn’t matter at all.

[meenasmoon]

I hope you still take prompts! Johnny is visiting his dad and asks for advice: he's head over heels for Meena but she is oblivious to his feelings since he is too damn nervous to make a move or to give hint, Big Daddy to the rescue! (kinda?)

I felt that this prompt was a great time to explore the budding trust between Big Daddy and Johnny because it is soooo important that they start to reconcile. Those father/son moments make my heart hurt but i love them so. I hope you all do too!

Fatherly Advice

Johnny nervously bounced on the squeaky metal stool and stared at thedoor on the other side of the bulletproof glass, hoping that big Daddy wouldappear at any second. It wasn’t his usual visiting day so when he had shown up,looking flustered and asking to see his father, the guard had given him and oddlook and ushered him to their usual booth. Around him people were chatting withtheir incarcerated loved ones, oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions that wasswirling around inside of him. Finally with a loud blare of the door alarm thedoor opened on the other side and Big Daddy squeezed through the doorway withhis escort. Johnny smiled nervously at his dad as he sat down and the guardwandered off to wait by the door.

Johnny was so eager to pick up the phone he knocked it off the hook andBig Daddy watched him fumble around with the phone for a few seconds before hefinally got a good grip on it and brought it up to his face.

“Aw wite spill it son. Wot did ya do?” Big Daddy rumbled out and Johnnyimmediately began sputtering out excuses in response.

“Nuffin’! I didn’t do anythin’! That’s the bloody problem.“ Hemumbled the last part and ran a hand through his wild hair in frustration.

“Alwigh’ then. Wot didn’t ya do?” Big Daddy’s face was screwedup in confusion and he leaned forward to force his son to meet his intensegaze. When Johnny didn’t say anything and instead began fiddling with the worncord of the phone it hit him.

“It’s abaht a girl ain’t it.” He smirked and Johnny’s headshot up, giving him that incredulous wide-eyed look that he had seen one toomany times.

“Wha’….” Johnny gaped up at his dad and then let out a longsuffering sigh and slumped down on the grimy counter.

After a few seconds of his father’s stare bearing down on him, Johnnylifted his head and morosely looked up at his dad. “Fine. It’s abaht a girl.‘Er name is Meena. She’s amazing.” he said dreamily and rested his head on hisarms again.

“Is tha’ the elephant wif the nice voice?” Big Daddy asked, a smilespreading slowly across his face when Johnny got a dreamy look that heremembered from his own youth.

“It’s not jus’ nice dad! She ‘as the best bloody voice that I ‘ave ever‘eard. It’s loike an angel’s it’s so beautiful.” Johnny sat up, defendingMeena’s voice to his father who just sat there and watched his son with a senseof pride so strong that he chest hurt a little bit. Johnny had come to himabout a girl. He and Johnny had never had deep talks and he hadn’t given him advicesince he was a little kid learning how to skateboard. If he could go back anddo his son’s teenage years over again he would put the business on hold andparent his son, but he couldn’t time travel so in that moment he decided tostart, even if it had to be from prison.

“So. Even a blin’ monkey could clock that ya loike ‘er. What’s thechuffin’ problem?” Big Daddy asked, and Johnny turned bashful again, drawinginvisible patterns on the counter as he worked up the courage to tell his dadwhat was happening.

“Well I keep tryin’ ter say summit ter ‘er or ask ‘er out ya kna but…”Johnny trailed off and fiddled with the sleeves of his leather jacket and BigDaddy decided that his son needed some encouragement. His own special brand ofencouragement.

“Ya chickened aht huh?” he chuckled as Johnny’s face went brightred and he gave his dad a playful glare.

“It’s not that. It’s just every time she looks at me wif those blue eyesand she seems so ‘appy ter clock me. Me tongue gets aw tied up and I can’t breathewite.” he sighed and ran his hands down his face, scrubbing it slightly in aneffort to build up the words to continue, “And…and… I just forget wot I wantedter ask ‘er and I dunna ‘a ter talk ter ‘er abaht me feelings.”

“Sounds ter me loike ya ‘re in pretty deep me son.” he smiledcomfortingly despite Johnny’s deadpan look at his comment and started to hangup the phone. He chuckled and held up his hands in surrender and gestured forhim to pick up the phone again. Johnny reluctantly picked up the phone andimpatiently waited for his dad to get on with his point.

“Look Johnny boy, do ya kna ‘er favorite flower?” he pressed and Johnnylooked at him skeptically before nodding.

“She loves daisies.” he mumbled and arched his brow at Big Daddy, thedoubt clear as day on his young face.

“Daisies. That’s great. Na, do ya trust me?” They sat in silence for acouple seconds, Big Daddy grinning proudly while Johnny looked him up and downskeptically. Finally he let out a little laugh and gave his dad a small butgenuine smile.

“Yeah dad. I do.” he said softly and Big Daddy’s grin softened as wellbefore it widened again and he gave his son a wink.

“Good. So ‘ere’s wot you’re gonna do. First things first ya ask ‘er aht.Daan’t make it complicated cause then you’ll jus’ get too nervous again.” Heleaned forward, his face serious and his voice raised slightly in excitement.

“Wait wait wait. Wot if I’m already nervous? Just thinkin’ abaht askin’‘er aht makes me sweaty.” Johnny interrupted, a worried look on his face. Heclenched his hands as if to emphasize his point and nervously rubbed themagainst his jeans in an effort to wipe them off. Big Daddy just smiledsympathetically at his son.

“’Ey. Just take a deep breath fer a second. I’m gonna give ya sum advicethat worked whenever I got nervous talkin’ ter yer mother.” He watched Johnny’sface light up like a Christmas tree at the mention of his mother and his heartgave a little flutter in his chest.

“Mum? Ya got nervous talkin’ ter mum?” Johnny leaned forward; scootingto the edge of the stool as if getting closer to his father would make thestory that much better. Big Daddy chuckled and sheepishly rubbed the back ofhis neck as memory after memory popped up in his head.

“Ohh yeah. Loads of times. Wanna kna me secret?” he grinned and leanedin to the glass to create the illusion that they were going to share somesecret when in reality all of their conversations were recorded.

“Yeah! Yeah o’ course I do.” The eager smile on his face once again senta pang through Big Daddy’s chest as he was reminded of simpler times.

“Listen close boy.” He leaned forward and whispered into the phonereceiver. “Ya take a deep breath and ya focus on ‘er eyes. Girls loike is whenya look them in the eyes. Focus on them eyes and just let yer heartdo the talkin’. Shut down that brain of yers,” he pointed at the glass whereJohnny’s head was and he had never felt a stronger urge to break through thatglass and ruffle his son’s hair. He cursed himself once more for the decisionsthat he had made. Because of his criminal tendencies here he was behind barsand he could barely help his son with girl advice.

“Okay dad.” he said eagerly and seemed to take a deep breath in thatmoment, trying out the technique to calm his thoughts.

“Very nice boy. Na when she accepts, cause she will,” he gave Johnny alook when he looked ready to interrupt him with his doubts, “Ya pick ‘er sumdaisies and ya brin’ them ter ‘er when ya pick ‘er up. Trust me she’ll light upwhen ya brin’ ‘er flowers.”

“But dad… wot if she says nah?” Johnny asked and Big Daddy was amazed atthe vulnerability coming off of him in waves. It was like a dark cloud hadmoved in over his son’s head and it was his mission to banish it.

“Na clock ‘ere na boy.” He waited until Johnny looked up at him, hiseyes full of doubt and a small frown on his face. “That girl would be crazy terreject ya, and she ain’t crazy is she?”

“Nah…” Johnny said slowly, unsure where his father was going with this.

“Then stop worryin’ and start plannin’. I kna that you’ve got confidencein there. Let it shine through and you’ll be fine.” He said firmly but kindly.Johnny perked up slightly and looked up at his father with a new confidenceshining in his brown eyes.

“Thanks dad.” He said softly and Big Daddy grinned down at him, feelingaccomplished as a father for the first time since he watched his son ride downthe street on his skateboard in his helmet, shoulder pads and knee pads.

“Anytime son. Nah let’s talk plannin’. Ya need ter kna wot you’re gonnado for the date before ya even do it.” Johnny nodded and the two gorillas gotdown to work hashing out ideas for the future date. 

An hour later as Johnny rose from the stool and began walking away fromthe booth, Big Daddy stood there and watched his son turn around at the doorand wave as he disappeared into the outside world. As he walked through thehallways of the prison with guard as an escort he marveled over the fact thathis son was growing up. Johnny had always been the gangly teen with wild hairin his mind but today, today he saw an adult gorilla walking out those doors.He had missed so much of Johnny’s life; his love for singing, his firstperformance, the great loves in his life. When Johnny had started pulling awayfrom him he had tried to bring him back by bringing him into the gang, butJohnny had just continued to pull away from him, this time even stronger thanbefore.

As he walked back into his shared cell and saw his cellmates engaged ina game of poker he sat down in the chair that he had vacated and waited to bedealt into the next hand. As he picked up his cards he realized that his lifewas starting to turn around. Sure he was incarcerated and he had no idea whenhe would get out and be able to hug his son once again, meet the girl thatJohnny was obviously in love with, but his relationship with his son wasstronger than it had ever been before and that was the important thing.

He looked down at his cards and let his face curl into a self-satisfiedsmirk. Yeah his cards looked pretty good from here on out.

“Alwigh’ ya blighters I’m feelin’ lucky.” He looked around at thesuddenly nervous faces of his cellmates. “Whose ready ter get beat?”

[sunnetherlands]

Unlocking the Softness: How to Soften Leather Cords at Sun Enterprises

At Sun Enterprises, we understand that the softness and flexibility of leather cords are crucial aspects when it comes to crafting exquisite jewelry and accessories. Our high-quality wholesale leather cords are known for their durability and beauty, but sometimes you may need them to be a bit softer for your specific projects. In this guide, we'll explore various methods to soften leather cords effectively, ensuring that you can work with them easily and create stunning pieces that your customers will love.

Selecting the Right Leather Cord

Before we delve into the techniques for softening leather cords, it's essential to start with the right type of leather. At Sun Enterprises, we offer a range of leather cords, including round leather cords, braided leather cords, and flat leather cords. Choosing the appropriate cord for your project can make the softening process easier.

Using Leather Conditioner

One of the most common methods to soften leather cords is by using a leather conditioner or leather softener. Here's a step-by-step guide:

Clean the Cord: Before applying any conditioner, make sure your leather cord is clean. Wipe it gently with a damp, clean cloth to remove dust or dirt.

Apply Conditioner: Take a small amount of leather conditioner or softener and rub it onto the cord using a soft cloth or your fingertips. Ensure you cover the entire length of the cord.

Massage and Stretch: Gently massage the conditioner into the leather cord, allowing it to penetrate the fibers. You can also stretch the cord gently to help distribute the conditioner evenly.

Let it Sit: Allow the cord to sit for a few hours or overnight, giving the conditioner time to work its magic.

Test and Repeat: After the waiting period, test the cord's softness. If it's still not as soft as you'd like, repeat the process until you achieve the desired level of softness.

Using Heat

Another effective method to soften leather cords for sale is by using heat. Be cautious when using this method, as excessive heat can damage the leather. Here's how to do it:

Warm Water Soak: Submerge the leather cord in warm water for a few minutes to soften it slightly. Be careful not to use hot water, as it can cause the leather to become too pliable.

Dry and Stretch: Remove the cord from the water and gently stretch it to further soften it. You can use your hands or a soft cloth for this step.

Heat Treatment: Use a hairdryer or heat gun on a low setting to apply heat to the cord. Keep the heat source moving to prevent overheating. As you heat the cord, continue to stretch and flex it until it reaches the desired softness.

Cool Down: Allow the cord to cool naturally, which will help it retain its new softness.

Natural Oils and Balms

Another method for softening leather cords is by using natural oils and balms. This approach not only softens the leather but also adds a rich, lustrous finish. Here's how:

Clean the Cord: As with other methods, start by cleaning the cord to remove any surface dirt or dust.

Apply Oil or Balm: Choose a leather-friendly oil or balm, such as neatsfoot oil or mink oil. Apply a small amount to the cord and massage it in, ensuring even coverage.

Warmth and Absorption: To aid absorption, gently warm the cord with a hairdryer or by placing it in a warm, sunny spot. The warmth helps the leather absorb the oil.

Let it Sit: Allow the cord to sit for several hours or overnight to absorb the oil fully.

Check and Repeat: Check the softness of the cord, and if necessary, repeat the process until you achieve the desired softness and suppleness.

Patience and Care

No matter which method you choose to soften your leather cords, patience and care are key. Take your time and monitor the progress to avoid over-softening or damaging the leather. Each leather cord may respond differently, so it's essential to test your chosen method on a small section before treating the entire length.

At Sun Enterprises, we offer a wide range of high-quality leather cords in various colors, sizes, and styles to suit your jewelry-making needs. By following these softening techniques, you can ensure that your wholesale leather cords are supple and ready for your creative projects. Softened leather cords provide endless possibilities for crafting exquisite jewelry and accessories that will impress your customers. Explore our collection of wholesale leather cords today and unlock the potential for stunning creations.

[sunnetherlands]

Softening Leather Cords Wholesale: A Guide by Sun Enterprises

Leather cords are a versatile and stylish material that can be used for a wide range of crafting and jewelry-making projects. However, when leather cord is fresh and new, it can sometimes be stiff and difficult to work with. At Sun Enterprises, we understand the importance of having soft and pliable leather cord for your creative endeavors. In this guide, we'll share some valuable tips on how to soften leather cord effectively and make it more manageable for your projects.

1. Choose the Right Leather Cord:

The first step in ensuring a soft and supple leather cord is to start with a high-quality product. At Sun Enterprises, we offer a variety of leather cord options, including different types of leather such as genuine leather, suede, and more. Opt for leather cord that suits your project's needs and is known for its softness and durability.

2. Condition the Leather Cord:

Conditioning is a key step in softening leather cord. To do this, you'll need a leather conditioner or cream. Apply a small amount to a soft cloth or sponge, then rub it onto the entire length of the leather cord. Make sure to work the conditioner into the leather thoroughly. This process will help to moisturize and soften the leather.

3. Massage and Flex the Cord:

After applying the conditioner, it's time to massage and flex the leather cord. Gently knead and bend the cord along its entire length. This action helps distribute the conditioner evenly and encourages the leather to become more pliable. Repeat this process until you notice the cord becoming softer and more flexible.

4. Use Heat:

Heat can be an effective tool for softening leather cord. You can use a hair dryer or a heat gun to warm the cord. Be cautious not to overheat or burn the leather. Once the cord is warmed up, massage it again to help it become more supple. The heat encourages the leather fibers to relax and soften.

5. Natural Oils:

Another method to soften leather cord is to use natural oils such as olive oil or coconut oil. Apply a small amount to a cloth and rub it onto the cord. These oils will penetrate the leather, moisturizing it and making it more pliable. Allow the cord to sit for some time to absorb the oil before using it in your project.

6. Store Properly:

Proper storage of your leather cord can also help maintain its softness. Store it in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight. Avoid exposing it to extreme temperatures or humidity, as these can cause the leather to stiffen over time.

7. Regular Use:

Sometimes, the best way to soften leather cord & Braided leather cord is simply to use it in your projects. As you work with the cord, it will naturally become more flexible and comfortable to handle. Be patient, and with time, your leather cord will become even softer and more pliable.

In conclusion, softening leather cord is a simple but essential step in ensuring your crafting and jewelry-making projects are a success. At Sun Enterprises, we are committed to providing high-quality leather cord options that are perfect for all your creative endeavors. By following these tips and techniques, you can enjoy the beauty and versatility of leather cord while making your projects a breeze to create. So, go ahead, explore your creativity, and let your imagination run wild with our soft and supple leather cord from Sun Enterprises!

[sunnetherlands]

Soften New Stiff Leather Effortlessly with Sun Enterprises: A Comprehensive Guide

Introduction

There’s nothing quite like the feel of soft, supple leather. However, new leather items are often stiff and can be challenging to work with or wear comfortably. Whether you’re a craft enthusiast, a DIY aficionado, or simply someone looking to break in a new leather product, softening stiff leather is a skill worth mastering. In this comprehensive guide, we’ll explore effective methods to soften new stiff leather, with a focus on utilizing high-quality products from Sun Enterprises, a renowned name in the crafting industry.

Understanding Stiff New Leather

New leather items tend to be rigid due to the natural oils and moisture being removed during the tanning process. This stiffness can affect everything from leather jackets and boots to crafting materials. Softening new stiff leather not only enhances its texture but also ensures it becomes more pliable and comfortable.

The Sun Enterprises Advantage

Sun Enterprises is a trusted and reputable company in the crafting world, known for its high-quality leather products. Their dedication to providing superior materials makes them the perfect choice for softening new stiff leather. By incorporating Sun Enterprises’ products into your leather softening routine, you’re ensuring top-notch results.

Effective Techniques to Soften New Stiff Leather

Leather Conditioners: Leather conditioners are specially formulated to replenish the oils in leather, making it soft and supple. Sun Enterprises offers a range of top-quality leather conditioners that can be applied to new leather items. These conditioners not only soften the leather but also protect it from drying out in the future.

Natural Oils: Natural oils like coconut oil, olive oil, or mink oil can work wonders in softening stiff leather. Gently massage a small amount of the chosen oil into the leather and let it absorb overnight. Sun Enterprises provides high-grade oils that are perfect for this purpose.

Warmth and Moisture: Leather responds well to warmth and moisture. You can use a hairdryer on a low setting to warm the leather slightly and then apply a leather conditioner from Sun Enterprises. Alternatively, placing the leather item in a slightly humid environment, like a bathroom, can also help soften it over time.

Physical Manipulation: Sometimes, the best way to soften leather is to use it. Bend, twist, and flex the leather item repeatedly to break down its stiffness. For smaller items, like leather cords, gently rolling them between your palms can also help.

Commercial Softeners: Sun Enterprises offers specialized leather softening products designed to soften new stiff leather effectively. These products are specifically formulated to break down rigidity and restore the leather’s natural softness.

Professional Assistance: For valuable or delicate leather items, seeking the help of a professional leather expert, recommended by Sun Enterprises, can ensure proper care and softening without the risk of damage.

Conclusion

Softening new stiff leather doesn’t have to be a daunting task. With the right techniques and high-quality products from Sun Enterprises, you can transform stiff, uncomfortable leather into a luxurious, supple material that’s a pleasure to wear and work with. Whether you’re softening a new leather jacket, boots, or crafting materials, following the methods outlined in this guide will help you achieve remarkable results. Experience the joy of working with beautifully softened leather, courtesy of Sun Enterprises’ exceptional products. Happy softening!

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How do you straighten faux leather cords

Here, we will talk about how straightening faux leather cords. Faux leather cord (or imitation cord) is made as a substitute for real leather. It has the same look and feel you want in traditional leather and the fact that anything that is made typically  with leather can be made with faux leather is also a great advantage !

Therefore, whether you want to straighten genuine leather cord or faux leather cord, it will  be the exact same process ! How convenient ! So, we’ll take here the method of a normal leather cord and then you can reproduce the  same method to straighten your faux leather cord. When you buy leather cord for making jewelry, it often comes wrapped around a spool or  sold in different lengths. The downside is that once the cord has been coiled around the  spool, it often acquires that curve and refuses to uncurl when you’re ready to make jewelry  with it.

So you may wonder how you can straighten them to work with, so your piece doesn’t end  up looking warped or awkward. So here’s what you have to do. The simplest method of softening leather cords is by pinching a section of the cut cord  with your thumb and index finger and using your other hand to bend the leather cord  back and forth. Why ? Because it wakes up the stiff fibers of the leather and allows them to become more  pliant again !

This method may work for shorter cuts of leather cord – like the ones use for bracelets for  example – but if you need a truly straight cord, you may want to check out the more  traditional technique of softening and straightening the cord. This last one involves the  use of a bone bead and additional friction. This technique is called “the neat” and has been used by traditional leather workers for  centuries to straighten and soften leather cord.

Natural beads are best suited for softening leather as they are easier to hold and just  generally produce better results.  So what you need to look for when buying bone beads particularly for this purpose is  variety in the hole sizes. They have to be sufficient for the size of your leather cords but  at the same time, you need to be sure that they “bite” the leather cord a little when you  are threading the cord through the bone bead. First, cut off the length of leather you need for a project then insert one end of that piece  of cord through an appropriately sized bone bead and pull on it. After that, simply run it back and forth through one of the beads a few times, to soften the  cord and take the curl out of it.

For best results, you need to angle the bead slightly as you do this, so that it scrapes across the surface of the leather. The added friction while pulling on the leather cord is important as this directly softens  the leather cord and allows it to be more pliant than when it was stuck in a spool. We recommend that you take your time with it as to give the leather a more distressed  look, which is always nice. That is the two best methods to straighten you leather cord, might it be an imitation or a  genuine one. But if despite all this, your leather refuses to straighten, for many different  reasons, you can always add a bit of moisture to the leather.  We invite you to look more in details at our other blogs who can help you a lot on your creations or if you have any questions