#scale mail pattern

[britcision]

So if I made a scale mail pattern to make wee mushrooms with, would you guys want it?

I have once more been possessed by demons for 4 hours to knock out these two little guys and I guess I want someone else to suffer with me

However: does anyone also know a good tool to make a scale mail pattern in?

Cuz I can do it in Excel it’s just not gonna look right but I can’t find anything that’ll let me alternate columns by rows properly and that is somewhat important

Also, no you cannot and will never be able to order them online, I will give you the pattern and The Ring Lord will sell you the rest, but if you caught me irl at a ren faire or some shit, would you give me $7.50-$10 CAD for the bigger guy? Maybe $5 for the little one?

(Does anyone like the little one? I’m not sold on ‘im but I can see… potential. To. Make another shape. By extending the… stem. Could make a pattern for that too if you gimme software)

Asking almost entirely to try and make my scale mail addiction self-funding because I waaaaaaant more colours and more scales and the little ones are So Much Harder to work with but SO STINKIN CUTE

And. And. The Ring Lord will sell me a bag of 1500. For $104. And I wants em. But I do not have $104.

Shit if someone can get me a good patterning software I will knock out all kinds of crazy patterns just saying

It turns out my ADHD thinking-in-spirals lends itself really well to shaping and designing in scale mail, thinking in triangles is for cowards and quitters and people with much more experience and skill than me but I WILL make a curve

[inquisimail]

would you be so kind and photo plush parsley and gentle together? :3c

sure. here you go

[chiropteracupola]

the thing is that I will never be satisfied with the number of dollhouses I have. a dollhouse for every situation. when I die they will turn my house into a small museum and let the children come and look at my dollhouses.

[dokkywokky]

EMERGENCY COMMS RESULTS #7

This time, done for @mlgderp989 on Discord! In blue is a hologram, Radon; in red is a cyborg, Astatine; and in the background is a giant dragon wearing a city, Daynoss!

EDIT: Apparently I can't count. This is 7, not 6!

[neuvilette-tea-party]

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎ Il faut être deux... Part 1 ❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Steb x F!reader

You get home, excited to visit the Montains like you are sure Steb does each year for his leave! But when you discover your lover, you realize you're going to climb something different...

Tags: Some fish anatomy quirks, established relationship, heavy making out, pining, sexual tension, caresses, mating season (yeah, I'm going that route, sue me!), Steb is selectively non-verbal and that never prevented him from asking/respecting consent, lovey-dovey

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

You sigh entering your little house, unclipping your helmet. You throw the house keys in the bowl and put your helmet next to Steb’s who did not move an inch the entire day. 

You plan your leaves whenever you feel like it, but Steb goes like clockwork and always takes two weeks of leave at the same time of year. Everyone at the barracks knows that those two weeks are his and he will not leave them to anyone else no matter their arguments or urgencies.  

He goes completely no-contact and vanishes without a single trace. 

What does he do during those two weeks? Beats you! He does not speak, and especially not about that. The first year under his tutelage you got to his home for a friendly chat, trying to break the ice with your mentor, but you found his house completely locked, shutters closed and mail piling up in the mailbox. 

Your best guess is that he goes to the mountain to bathe in the rivers and lacs of fresh, pure water to soothe his scales bruised by the water of Piltover soiled with chemicals. 

But now that you live together, you will discover his little secret! You have already put some clothes discreetly on the side for packing. When you got home a minute ago, the shudders of the second floor were already closed, just an inch ajar to let pass a thin ray of sun for you to finish packaging this evening and then swiftly jump into a train, to the Mountains you go! 

You turn your head as you open your boots, hearing piano music from the living room. Steb must be playing.  

You smile to yourself, taking off your boots. You love listening to Steb’s music, you could spend hours doing nothing but listening and watching him play his electronic piano. You always wanted to learn music and Steb patiently teaches you short simple melodies that you play on repeat until you can’t bear a single more note. 

Steb doesn’t mind it, he appreciates the waves and vibrations of music with his sensible Vastaya ears, apparently, it feels pretty close to sounds underwater for him, helping him relax after a long day.   

“Hi, Steb!” You chant entering the living room as you take off your harness holster, “I managed to take one week’s leave matching yours!” You announce your little surprise. 

You stagger as you hear Steb slams his hands on the key brutally. You turn to him to see him, his back turned to you, frozen still, shirtless, his large shoulder moving up and down like after an intended exercise. 

“Steb?” You ask gently, cautiously approaching the Aquatic Vastaya.  

You frown. What the...? 

You get closer, squinting. 

Is that...? 

“Oh my goodness, Steb! Are you all right?!” You shout. 

You grab his shoulder to make him turn towards you. Red scales all over! Steb’s deep green stripes are now invaded with a deep red shade, the same for the tip of his fins and ears. You’re no aquatic Vastaya expert, but a sudden change of scale color patterns cannot be a good sign. 

Steb looks at you with eyes rounded in surprise, cheek rosy, and with a feverish gaze. 

“Are you sick?! Since when?! Did you go to the hospital?! Did you visit a physician?!” You drown him questions as he slowly gets up, grabbing your hand in his. 

You detail his chest, covered in sweat and new red scales, parasitizing his lovely green stripes. His chest rises up and down deeply and when you raise your gaze to look into his ocean eyes, you discover them febrile and dark. 

“Oh Steb... Are you all right?” You beg.  

Steb details you, remaining silent, slightly disheveled, his cheek fins waving repeatedly. His gaze lowers slightly to your lips and he licks his teeth. He raises your hand to his mouth and reverently kisses your fingertips and your palm, closing his eyes as a purr starts resonating in his chest. 

“...Steb? I am worried for you!” You insist, voice cracking in fear for your lover. 

Color change so swiftly is surely the prelude to a blood disease or even an organ failure... You know he pushes himself so much! Never allows others to see when he is tired or in pain, preferring to suck it up for his team’s benefit, but now it catches up with him! 

You try to resonate with him but he looks... out of here, like in some sort of daze. 

His large hand sneaks around your lower back and pulls you close to him, pressing his forehead against yours, purring deeply. You try to control your breath as he only blinks with his third eyelids,  his attention solely on you. 

He starts to cradle you, swaying your hips together gently, intertwining your fingers together. He brushes the tips of your noses together as he slowly dances with you in your small living room. 

“Steb... Is that an illness?” You ask, recovering your calm to think logically. 

He slowly shakes his head, blue eyes dead focused in your eyes. 

“Should I be worried?” His eyes lower down to a corner as he thinks, before returning to yours and shrug, his purr deepening. 

You gulp and nod, rationalising the situation. 

“Can I know what this is all about now?” You put your hand on his pec, strangely warm to the touch and vibrating with the purr. 

He takes a fistful of your hair and kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand in his. He lowers himself to kiss the tip of your nose tenderly and he releases your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your lower lips fondly, parting them just a bit. 

This is his usual move to ask for a kiss.  

Patiently waiting for your consent, devouring you with his blue eyes. 

You gulp, feeling his heartbeat against your palm, beating rapidly but steadily in his ribcage. 

He releases your cheek to take your chin between two fingers, still playing with your lower lip, and tilts your head as he brushes your nose tips together again, his lips hovering tantalizingly over yours, teasing you as you think he will close the gap several time, feeling his breath on your lips. 

But he remains patient. 

Simply toying with you, but never trespassing the limit without a clear ‘Yes’. 

His eyes are dark, a storm rages on inside of them, but an emotion pierces the fog. 

Imploration 

Despair 

Begging... 

You never saw him in such a state... 

You weakly nod once and close your eyes. Maybe acceding to his demand will relieve him a bit... 

He releases your hand to circle your hips and press them hard against his loins as you feel the ghost of his lips on yours.  

As to taste the water he leaves a single, trembling peck on your lips. 

Then another 

And another 

And one more  

Soon enough he is devouring your lips, giving demanding kisses, licking your lips to earn access. You open your mouth for him and his tongue enters, hugging and dancing with yours like a first time. 

He kisses you deep like he never did before, robbing you both of your oxygen. He bites down your lip with a growl as he pushes you until the back of your knees hits the sofa, unbalancing you and you fall with a yelp of surprise. 

Steb follows you easily, never letting go of your lips, you feel his weight pining you down the sofa, keeping you caged under him as his hands explore your back freely.  

You grab his side, his shoulders, his arms, his cheeks... You have no idea what to do with yourself when he treats you in such a way... 

You try to breathe in those demanding attentions while he lets escape a deep, rumbling sound between a purr and a growl, coming from the very depths of his chest. You start feeling dizzy, you have never been kissed like that by anyone, especially by Steb who prefers delicate touches and soft little attentions as he is a tender soul himself... 

Your ears are full of your gasps and pants and his subtle growl, your nose is invaded by his natural salty musk, getting straight into your head and making your heart palpitate even harder! His ears shake, and all his fins are coursed by a shudder, making him hiss. 

You take an immense breath when he finally lets go of your lips, a string of saliva connecting you together. He observes you panting, caressing your cheek with his knuckles so delicately. He reverently kisses your forehead once more before kissing your temple, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, and then taking a big lap with the flat of his long tongue on the entire length of your exposed throat. 

You lower your gaze as you feel Steb pulling on your jacket. He is looking at you while fiddling with the buttons, awaiting your go. 

You feel a fire in your cheeks and one starting between your legs. He never was so forward and demanding. Steb likes to take things slow for both of your comfort. 

He likes taking his time, appreciating each little step of the way...  

You just started exploring each other’s body after moving in together and if at first you felt frustrated it took so long to move things on, you started to get used to it, and even appreciated his method, reveling in the simple little things with delight. 

And now he is the one being impatient, confusing you in your newfound pace! 

The thought of stopping everything to get a straightforward answer crosses your mind, but you only have to dive into the agitated waters of his eyes to know. 

He had to hide from everyone in the dark each year, dealing with that storm all alone, without the warmth of a lover or a friendly shoulder that could understand his turmoil without judging him.  

Him always so composed, irreproachable, so well put together... 

What would they say if they ever saw him in such a state? Like an animal? 

They already have so little respect for non-humans... 

You cup his cheek tenderly, tracing the quivering gills on his jaws with the tip of your fingers and all his fins and ears tremble terribly instantly as he grits his teeth. You do it again and he exhales deeply, brushing his cheek In your hand with a relieved expression. Instinctively, you bite down the tip of his ear, licking the frills teasingly and you feel his grip tightening around you with a deep rumble, threatening to tear your clothes apart entirely. 

You release his ear, your hand cupping his cheek lowering down to the gills on his throat, and start caressing them as he captures your lips again, opening your jacket’s button expertly with one hand, your tongues entangled in a sensual embrace. 

He opens your jacket rapidly and opens your blouse a bit, just enough to create a cleavage that he tenderly kisses, before pressing his ear to your sternum and closing his eyes. 

Savoring your heartbeat while hugging you tight. 

You circle his shoulders and kiss the top if his head, diving your nose in his green strands.  

Steb did not close the shudder of the first floor, letting the sun’s rays bathing the living room illuminate his large back, making his red scales shine like they were real flames. You admire his powerful muscles rolling under his skin, creating waves of light on his scales, hypnotizing you entirely. 

He is absolutely stunning with theses shiny shades of red and green. 

You caress his hair as he deeply inhales, nudging his face between your bosoms, listening to the melody of your heart as you feel his finger digging into your flesh. He rolls his shoulders, agitated but evidently trying to control himself the best he can. 

You close your legs to hug him tight inadvertently putting pressure on his groin, which you now realize is really warm despite his pants and considerably swollen, making him hiss in response, his cheek scales shaking in tandem with the sound. 

Everything comes to a halt as Steb curls into your embrace, tightening his grip on you while you press your smaller body against his on the small sofa of your home. 

For a fleeting instant, both of your hearts beat at the same rhythm, like a single being. 

“I love you, Steb...” You confess, inhaling his salty scent deep into your lungs as you caress the top of his beautiful head, “You are my everything.” 

His purr peaks to higher notes at your words and he spins his head to reverently kiss your sternum again, soft pecks like butterfly wings, going higher and higher until he reaches the crook of your neck and he bites down the sensitive skin, nibbling it between his teeth, sucking on it, making you gasp. 

He parts from you, brushing his lovebite you feel flourishing on your skin. A chance you are on leave, you would have difficulties explaining this one to your colleagues. 

Steb tightly smiles, satisfied with what he sees on your delicate skin. You purse your lips and lunge forward to bite down his own neck, paying him back in his own coins. He lets out an audible gasp of surprise and a long moan as you suck the crook of his neck, holding the back of your head to keep you there. 

You part from him spitting little scales off your tongues, trying to scrub them off with your fingers, prompting him to chuckle, thoroughly amused by your demeanor, as he loudly purrs. You look up at him, leaning domineeringly over you, but his eyes spill love and adoration. 

”Mon amour...” He whispers like a secret, for your ears only. 

You nudge your noses 

But the storm still rages on in his ocean eyes... and between your legs. 

He looks into your eyes as one of his hands takes a handful of your thigh, slowly slipping under the fabric of your skirt, asking a silent, fated question  

You circle his shoulders and hips, locking him in your embrace and peck his nose, and extra sensible part of his face, like all aquatic Vastaya, and his purr skips a bit, like a hiccup. 

“Take me to our bedroom, Steb...” 

He reverently kisses your lips and lifts you up from the sofa, easily carrying you up the stairs toward your bed, both hearts palpitating in anticipation... 

[iliothermia]

Old Man joys: my new custom envelopes.. gonna send so much mail in these things.. the backs are a repeating pattern of his claw-scales :)

[nerdgirlbutinpink]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | dave lizewski x fem!reader

| 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐮 |

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none that i know of

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 925

𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘆 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗼!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

the second letter goes out on a tuesday.

it’s raining. your socks are damp. and your english teacher assigned a pop quiz on great expectations even though you’ve only read two chapters and one of them was in sparknotes format.

annnndddddd then it gets worse.

because josh is waiting by your locker.

josh as in your sister’s ex-boyfriend.

josh as in the boy you wrote a letter to in tenth grade when margot was out of town and he brought you soup when you had the flu and watched the proposal with you on the couch and laughed at all the same parts you did.

josh as in the boy you never should’ve liked, because he was never yours to like in the first place.

but now he’s standing in front of you.

with your letter in his hand.

“hey,” he says softly, like he’s stepping on glass. “can we talk?”

you look around. your heart is in your throat.

“about what?”

he raises the envelope.

and you want to die.

actually, physically curl up inside your locker and never emerge again.

“that was… a long time ago,” you say quickly. “like, seriously long. you shouldn’t have even gotten it—someone must’ve mailed them or something. i swear, it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

“but you wrote it,” he says. “you felt that way once, right?”

you nod. slowly. painfully.

“yeah. but not anymore. not even close.”

he doesn’t say anything. just looks at you for a beat too long, like he’s trying to find something in your face. like he doesn’t know what to do with the truth now that he has it.

“okay,” he finally says, voice flat. “thanks for being honest.”

he walks away.

and you’re left staring at the hallway floor tiles like they’ve personally betrayed you.

⸻

by lunch, the whole school is buzzing. not with your name—yet—but with whispers.

“someone’s sending out love letters,” a girl at the next table says.

“like, old ones. real ones. it’s kinda romantic.”

“unless one was about me. then i’d transfer schools.”

you sink lower into your seat.

jade, ever the chaos enthusiast, slides into the chair next to you with a tray of fries and a smirk.

“so,” she says. “on a scale of one to catastrophic, how bad are we talking?”

“nuclear,” you mutter. “josh got his.”

she winces. “damn. okay, yeah, that’s rough.”

“and he talked to me about it.”

“double rough.”

“and he thinks i’m still into him.”

“okay,” she says, sitting up straighter. “we need a distraction.”

you blink. “like what?”

and that’s when dave lizewski drops into the seat across from you again.

it’s becoming a pattern—him showing up out of nowhere like a glitch in the simulation.

he leans in, elbows on the table, looking way too pleased with himself.

“hey,” he says. “so i’ve been thinking.”

“that’s never good,” jade mutters.

dave ignores her.

“i think we should fake date.”

you nearly choke on your water.

“what?”

“just for a while,” he says. “long enough for people to stop asking about the letters.”

“why would we fake date?”

“because people think you like me. and if we pretend to be together, it makes your whole letter thing look like it worked—like you got the guy. less humiliating, right?”

you stare at him.

he’s ridiculous. completely unhinged.

and also… kind of smart?

“what do you get out of it?”

he shrugs. “a girl i like is dating someone else. maybe this makes her jealous.”

you narrow your eyes.

“and you think i’m gonna help you win over some other girl?”

“hey, i’m helping you not look like a total disaster. it’s mutually pathetic. win-win.”

jade snorts.

“honestly, it’s so dumb it just might work.”

you hesitate. this is insane. you don’t fake date. you read books and write secret letters and spend friday nights watching old rom-coms with your little sister.

but maybe… maybe this is the only way to survive this whole mess.

“fine,” you say finally. “but if we do this, you can’t fall in love with me.”

he grins.

“deal. but no promises, love letter girl.”

taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @strawberrychita

a/n: honestly i’m not sure how to feel abt this chapter but i’ll try to upload weekly 🫶🏼

[tyrantisterror]

Karlach Soft Sculpture - Tumblr if you mark this as "Potentially Mature Content" I will send you to Hell myself

I'm going to make a Horror Flora post for this anyway as a backup, but let's try it the old-fashioned way first and see if Tumblr decides to make an enemy of me for it.

Karlach's outfit was an interesting challenge because it's less clothes and more several belts and scraps of leather haphazardly laced together and held in place with pins and clips. I ended up making it a bit more solid-ly put together than the canon outfit, but hopefully the "literally wearing whatever scraps she can hold onto" look is maintained.

I made her burn scars with pen, which thankfully did not look as stark as I feared - if she was a bigger model I might have tried to mold in some extra wrinkles into the fabric to give them even more texture, but at this scale I had to think of structural stability first and foremost. Getting her little vents was a lot easier than I expected - I bought these tiny brass fasteners, and it turns out they were sharp enough to just poke right in and stick in her shoulder! I also made sure to put on her tattoos to the best of my admittedly not-great tattoo-drawing ability, although most of them are covered up by her clothes.

I tried to match the actual pattern of the lacework of belts on her canon outfit, mainly in the little side-skirt area and over her chest, but there came a point where I was just layering straps of leather in a way that was structurally sound instead of strictly canon accurate. My hope is that enough of the big notable details were retained to make it recognizable.

The leather armor restricts her movements more than my other dolls, but she's able to pull off cool enough poses for my taste!

Part of me wants to make a Durge to hang out with her, but making plate mail armor at this scale might be more trouble than it's worth.

[critterfloozy]

Knit Beacon!

I knit a beacon for @thelavishgateau It took about a year longer than it should have because:

a. I knit hexagons at first. b. I knit a bunch of other stuff instead of knitting this because I'd knit hexagons at first. c. My local knitting group doesn't meet as often as it used to, so I knit less in general.

The actual pattern is pretty easy - I can write it down if anyone is interested. The purple yarn is cascasde 220 (because it felts well), and the handles are some of the leftover Caleb yarn I have from my shadowgast scarf. I ended up stuffing it with recycled denim from Blue Apron insulation. I wanted something semi-rigid so it wouldn't seem as ball-like, but also something that could get wet and reasonably dry out if the beacon needs to be washed.

(This is also why I didn't crochet it - I needed a tight enough weave that crochet doesn't really lend itself to - and wanted to lightly felt it even more tightly shut)

More pictures of the beacon - Sylvie loved this thing, me holding it in my hand for scale, and pre-handles:

The last thing is that I was in a time crunch to ship these off - I really wanted to get it mailed pre-surgery. So I ended up biking these over to the post office during my lunch break. The only backpack I had that was large enough for the box I shipped this in?

This one:

Thank you NYCC of like 2015 or so.

[petermorwood]

I was wondering if you could answer a question about armor, especially the solid/articulated types - how much did it need to be personalized or fitted? I ask because I often see people criticizing fantasy/gaming armor for being too heavy or cumbersome, but rarely for perfectly fitting everyone between five and seven feet tall regardless of whether they're built like Legolas or Gimli.

So I'm curious about whether and what kinds of armor might have been mass produced vs what needed to be customized. Was it easier to produce broadly applicable armor or to recruit your army by height and weight?

Non-custom-fitted mass-produced armour ("munition grade" as some modern repro makers call it) started becoming more common when workshops where everything ran on muscle-power became ones whose hammers, grinders and polishers were powered by a water-wheel.

Making armour to fit a range of average sizes now took less time, effort and wages, so could be sold for less and be afforded by more people.

It would have been made in the period equivalent of S, M, L and maybe XL, with buyers either paying extra for custom adjustments, or DIY-ing for better fit with padded liners to make it snug or extra holes punched into straps for more space.

*****

Top grade plate armour on the other hand was almost like a second skin - a common term is "exoskeleton".

This post from a few years back has a lot more information, including what was done to ensure a good fit when the wearer couldn't be measured in person: for instance sending close-fitting garments or even wax model limbs to the armourer.

It definitely wouldn't have fitted anyone but the original owner anything like as well. In particular, if a non-original wearer was longer or shorter in arm or leg, the armour's knee and elbow joints might pinch at distracting moments or simply not flex through their full range.

"Is increased protection better than reduced mobility?" was a question where the wrong answer could prove fatal.

*****

Perhaps that's why medieval art shows a lot of partial armour being worn:

arm-harness - sometimes just vambraces on the forearms, often all the parts from gauntlets to pauldrons (hands to shoulders);

brigandine - a cloth or leather jacket with small metal plates riveted inside; this wasn't concealed armour, the rivets arranged in rows or patterns were an obvious decorative feature;

haubergeon (or byrnie, though that's more a Saxon / Viking term IMO) - a short-sleeved, short-bodied mail shirt, usually worn under something else;

plackart - front or sometimes front-and-rear lower-abdomen torso plates;

poleyns - knee-guards, worn on otherwise unarmoured legs.

The one thing everyone wore is the first thing Hollywood armour leaves off - a helmet - while the archer below has not just a helmet, haubergeon, brigandine and poleyns, but also something equally important, a brayette or breech...

...which is a pair - or at least the front half where It Matters Most - of well-padded mail and indeed male underpants.

Full plate armours had full plate ones which were even more emphatic. Boob-plates may be (mostly) fantasy, but obvious gendered armour was A Real Thing.

*****

Flexible armour like mail, scale and lamellar wasn't tailored for fit; being flexible it didn't need to be. That said, if the size was really wrong one way or the other, it could be reduced or enlarged by removing or adding sections, similar to a modern tailor taking in or letting out a garment.

I have a vague recollection of a photo showing a late medieval haubergeon with tailoring darts inserted under the arms, but I can't remember where or when, so "vague" has more weight than "recollection". ;-P

Genuine mail is rarer in museums than plate armour, because at the end of its working life mail armour was often chopped into pot-scrubbers for the kitchen. You can buy the same sort of thing today.

Finally, while some looted high-grade armour, or at least parts of it, might fit the looter straight away, it's more likely that after any battle there was probably a brisk trade in swapping what didn't fit for what did.

Hope This Helps! :->

[tj-crochets]

I was inspired by an awesome art trade to try my hand at chain mail again! Specifically the dragon scale pattern

[legendlarkpod]

TIME FOR A FAN MAIL SPOTLIGHT!!!! @skatezmummblz sent these amazing handmade gifts to our P.O. Box! I was so delighted when I opened this package up, they are all so cute!!! 😭 From left to right, we have a Corbin bag (you can put stuff in his beak there's like a cavity back there!!!), a Fran water hair hat (the waves are so ruffly and satisying!) a granny Square bag in Slake appropriate colors (the pattern is so pretty!) and a Dragon scale dice bag (also extremely cute!)! Thank you again so much this was such a thoughtful and generous gift!!! We will cherish them!!! 😭 ✨🖤✨🧡✨💚✨💙✨

[vamphorica]

mattmello week i: vacation

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Death Note (Anime & Manga)

Relationship: Matt | Mail Jeevas/Mello | Mihael Keehl

Characters: Matt | Mail Jeevas, Mello | Mihael Keehl

Additional Tags: Vacation, Beach Holidays, Childhood Sweethearts, Wammy's House Era (Death Note), Wammy's House (Death Note), Fluff, Public Display of Affection, Gentle Kissing, Gift Giving, Canon Compliant

Word Count: 2,777

Series: Part 1 of MattMello Week 2024 | @mattmelloweek

Summary: Matt and Mello decide to take a spontaneous trip to the seaside.

────────────────────────────

“I’m bored, let’s run away.”

October had brought about with it the mundanity of the forthcoming academic year, no longer enticing in its promise of long hours studying in the library to fixate on specialist subjects. Once again, there were exams to sit that required revision on topics that were frankly boring, and Mello was becoming more and more agitated with each paper, the fear of bad results paralysing him at the bedroom desk for hours on end. The week of respite that was afforded for Christmas was some distant fantasy, and as Matt rested his chin on the other boy’s shoulder, he knew it was time they escaped from this place, even if for a brief moment.

“And where exactly do you propose we go?” Mello mumbled, distracted by the encyclopaedia propped up against the wall that he was using to copy his reference notes. He wrote fast, Matt noticed, but his script was beautiful and easy to read. Bastard.

Matt moved his face so he buried his nose in Mello’s blond curtain of hair, breathing deeply, “We can go to the coast and back in a day.” He pulled back suddenly, cupping his hands across his face as he sneezed loudly. Mello rolled his eyes, flicking a page.

“Hardly beach season, is it?”

Matt shrugged, “Do you want to go away or not?”

“My History exam is in three days.”

“Great, tomorrow it is then.” Matt grinned, “I’ll set the alarm nice and early.”

────────────────────────────

Mello had always been the early riser of the two, and was growing frustrated at how incessantly Matt moaned about his self-inflicted exhaustion. They had scaled the gates at the crack of dawn, taking nothing but a small backpack that contained the accumulation of coins that they had both hoarded over several months from various circumstances since forgotten about. The train station proved to be a nightmare, with Mello notably irritable at how persistent the ticket seller was in interrogating them about their ages and why they intended to travel to the seaside on this rather cold Tuesday morning. Yes, they may have been bunking, but Mello hardly thought it was any of her business to be so intrusive.

“I got no sleep at all last night…”

“Shut up. Take a nap on the train or something, you shouldn’t have stayed up.” Sharing a dormitory with Matt had long since taught Mello to tolerate the repeated beeping that emanated from Matt’s various consoles that he played into the night. The rhythmic pattern they tended to possess often helped him drift to sleep himself anyway, “Need I remind you that this was your idea?”

Matt made a noise akin to an injured puppy, his hand slipping into Mello’s as the train heaved into the station. The blast of air confronted them with the reality of this little adventure that they were about to pursue. Mello squeezed Matt’s hand, and they stepped into the carriage, accompanied by a certain nervous excitement in anticipation of the day ahead.

While Matt did fall asleep the moment that the two sat down, Mello was intrigued by the journey, fixated on watching the rush of blurred landscapes from the window for the entirety of the two hours. His memories of arriving at the House were hazy things that arose only occasionally, but aside from that car journey, he had never travelled this far before. With Matt by his side, any anxieties of arriving somewhere completely new dissipated, replaced instead by a lingering curiosity of the world outside the confines of Winchester.

“Wake up.” Mello nudged Matt as they arrived, prompting the redhead to open his eyes slowly, frowning, “We’re here.”

“Already?”

Mello nodded, standing up, “You coming, or what?”

The two stumbled off the train to the quiet unfamiliarity of a strange place. The platform was empty and the grey clouds above promised nothing pleasant regarding the day’s weather prospects. The two looked at one another as they often did in these moments of uncertainty, but they had come all this way in search of something different from the claustrophobia of the House, which Mello insisted he knew well enough to give a decent estimate of how many bricks it was made up of.

“Let’s go.”

It was obvious this was a town that woke up for the summer, then proceeded to hibernate for the rest of the year. Storefronts selling buckets and spades, postcards, and other tat stood neglected along the narrow high street leading up to the coastline, and the few pensioners that roamed around peered suspiciously at the two small twelve year old boys that passed them by, as if they were breaching their territory. Mello stared back at them in defiance, hardly in the mood to be intimidated by these strangers, but Matt quietly averted his gaze to the cobbled ground, his hands nestled deep in his pockets.

The sea greeted the boys soon enough, stretching out into the whiteness of the autumnal sky as it lapped at the pebbled shore. There was a certain stale smell to the air and the soft cawing of gulls echoed in the isolation; all of a sudden Matt and Mello were the only people in the world. There had always been people around them their entire lives, mostly adults monitoring them and forcing them to comply with their strict rules about who they were meant to become. Yet now, in this empty beach town with its long stretch of seclusion and its cool, sharp breeze, Matt and Mello could sense the enticing opportunity of freedom for the first time.

“Let’s go in the sea.” Matt turned to Mello, a grin lighting up his expression.

“It’ll be damn freezing!”

“We can just take our shoes off and roll our trousers up.” Matt had already begun making his way to the shoreline, treading over the rocks carefully, and Mello quickly followed behind, hardly as resistant to the idea as he would have liked Matt to believe. They kicked off their trainers and discarded them without much concern as to whether they would still be there when they returned, before proceeding to fold over their trouser hems quickly, racing against one another to experience the sea for the first time.

“Ready?” Mello asked and Matt nodded. They shuffled close to the lapping waves, before Mello grabbed Matt’s wrist and ran, pulling the redhead alongside him. They both shrieked loudly as the icy water immediately numbed their feet, giggling at the extremity of their joint reaction.

“It’s so cold!”

“Yeah, no shit!”

They waded in as far as they could, until the water rose to their knees, before stopping to glance back at the beach behind them. There really was no one around, and their hands found each other's shirts, instinctively compelled to cling onto one another for a sense of comfort. They knew there was no risk of judgement here, and the warmth of their bodies was a reassurance in contrast to the bitterly chill waves in which they stood.

“Hey, Matt.”

“Yeah?” Before Matt had time to react, Mello slapped a tsunami over him, provoking another loud scream.

“You wanker!” Matt shoved Mello, causing the blonde to lose his footing and crash down into the sea, which snatched him as if reclaiming something sentimental once lost. Matt immediately grabbed a flailing hand that remained outstretched, pulling the completely damp Mello upright again, smacking his back as he hacked loudly, saltwater caught in his throat. He recovered quickly enough, but not without scowling at Matt.

“Sorry…” Matt mumbled, before attempting a small smirk, “Guess you won’t need a shower tonight.” Mello punched his arm softly, before pressing himself close to the other, giving Matt the opportunity to wrap his arms around Mello tightly, burying his face in the soft curve of his neck and shoulder. He forgot Mello could be fragile too, sometimes.

They stood together like this for a quiet moment before Mello complained that he was cold, and they made their way back up to the shore, wincing as their feet suffered against the hard rocks beneath. Their shoes remained where they had left them, and they gratefully sat down to slide them back on. Matt pulled off his hoodie and began patting Mello’s hair dry uselessly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine…” Mello resisted, but he appreciated the gesture, as ridiculous as it was, “Matt, I’m hungry. Do we have money for food?”

“Yeah.” Matt counted out ten quid from what he could find at the bottom of the backpack, “What do you want?”

“Anything. Well, not ice cream.”

Matt smiled, and stood up, “I’ll see what I can do.”

────────────────────────────

“What can I get for you, son?” The man at the counter was significantly younger than the other residents they had seen so far, and his accent was wildly different to what Matt had heard before, throwing him off as he stared at the battered fish before him blankly.

“What do you have?”

The man laughed, making Matt feel like an idiot, but as he pointed up the menu behind him, Matt could see that the options were limited to fish and chips. They sometimes had it for lunch at the House, but Mello was a picky eater and Matt did not fancy taking a risk.

“Chips. Please.”

The man nodded and began piling a generous portion onto a sheet of newspaper before wrapping it up. Matt wasn't entirely sure of what he thought about this practice but knew better than to comment on it. He exchanged it for the coins and as the man counted his change, he felt the warmth from his parcel melt away the sting of his frozen fingers. Mello would appreciate having something hot to eat.

He found Mello where he left him, sat up with his legs pulled tight against his chest and Matt’s hoodie draped over his shoulders like a cape. It had become sodden as it caught the droplets of water that fell from the strands of his golden hair. Matt sat down as close to him as he could, crossing his legs and laying the package in the centre of his lap before opening it up.

“Here we go. They're hot, so be careful.”

Mello smiled, picking a chip up and blowing on it gently before putting it in his mouth.

“That's really good.”

Matt tested one himself, and nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah. It is.”

Before they knew it, they had attacked a good half of the portion, their fingers slick with grease and crystals of salt. There was something that felt a little bit mischievous about it, for although Wammy’s didn't discourage unhealthy eating habits, it felt like a confirmation of what they had set out to do by taking this little excursion from the boredom of their everyday lives back at the House. Maybe it was because of this that Matt felt a surge of confidence rise within.

“You've got something on your face.” He commented nonchalantly and, without giving Mello time to respond, gently tilted his face with one hand and pressed his lips onto the blonde’s. They had kissed before, once or twice, in the shadows of the corridors while everyone was asleep, but Matt had always felt compelled to initiate it more brazenly. He felt Mello’s lips move against his and they sat with the saltiness of one another for a few moments before reluctantly disengaging.

“I found something while you were gone.” Mello mumbled, and Matt raised an eyebrow, curiosity peaked. Mello gently took the frames of Matt's goggles and pulled them down so they hung around his neck. Matt blinked. It really was a grey day today, now that the world was no longer bathed in a warm hue.

Turning around, Mello picked up something from the ground and then held it up to Matt. A piece of vivid green seaglass, smooth and bright, “I was surprised to find any here, actually, but it's like I thought. It matches your eyes.”

“Oh.” Matt didn’t really know why he struggled with an appropriate response to this, but his chest felt distinctly heavy with adoration for the boy before him. Mello recognised a piece of Matt in this strange landscape. He smiled softly, “Thanks.”

Mello nodded and handed it to Matt, who turned it over in his palm, comforted by its flawless texture, “Do we have to go back to the House?”

“Hm? Yeah, Matt. We do.”

“What if we just stayed here? Or took a train to London. We could even fly to the States from there.”

“With what money? Besides, they’ll find us eventually, you know.” Mello sighed, resting his chin on his knees. Matt leaned against him, relieved that his clothes had more or less dried now, even if it was inevitable that he would go down with a cold in a matter of days, “We don’t have the luxury to just run away – like it or not, we are successors. Sooner than later, I expect, L will have to make a choice about who he wants to take over when he dies.”

“You’re right. I just wish we didn’t have to deal with the pressure.” Matt replied quietly. It was not really the pressure he faced that concerned him, but rather the effect it had on Mello. He had watched how his studies consumed him, how obsession with his position in the House ate away at him with an unrelenting force. Matt had always known that such a trip as this was never going to deter Mello away from the House’s ambitious expectations, but he had hoped that it at least reminded him that there was more to life than the grades that held him captive.

“We should buy a postcard before we go.” Mello announced suddenly.

“Why? Who would we send it to?”

“We can keep it as a memento. Come on.”

The two boys scuffled up, neglecting the remainder of the chips on the shore as an offering to the gulls that had been circling close by, and drifted back towards the high street. The sun was already setting, casting the shops in a warm glow, and Mello dragged Matt into a small store that still had its ‘open’ sign turned outward. It was a musty little establishment, full of all kinds of oddities and junk that only a seaside town could make appear mildly endearing. Matt stared at a collection of taxidermied rats wearing clown outfits in horror as Mello made his way to the postcard stand.

“This place is so creepy.” Matt muttered in a hushed tone, but Mello ignored him as he sifted through the postcards, disappointed by the selection that was on display. Outdated Jubilee celebrations for various Royal Family members, postcards from Mallorca and Budapest, an assortment of ‘Get Well Soon’ cards. He was close to giving up until something caught his eye.

“Greetings from Los Angeles, California.” He read across the front of the faded postcard, depicting a sprawling skyline of tall buildings and palm trees, the sky blue and clear in a manner that looked almost artificial, especially in comparison to the bleakness of this little town. Mello could not quite place his finger on it, but something drew him to the image, something he wanted to hold onto.

“Yeah, come on, let’s go.” Mello muttered, his eyes darting over to the woman at the counter, who appeared half asleep. He slipped the card in the inner pocket of his jacket, without even Matt noticing, and they left the shop, only the small sound of the bell behind them indicating they had ever been there to begin with.

────────────────────────────

Despite the mild panic Matt and Mello felt upon realising that they were two pounds short of covering the fare back, only managing to earn after hanging around unashamedly begging for change to use at the telephone box, the two eventually caught the last train back to the House. Mello could feel himself drifting off, catching his head falling against his chest as he tried to blink some energy into the final stretch of the day.

Matt repositioned himself so that he could encourage Mello to lean his head against his shoulder, his hand rubbing the blonde’s thigh reassuringly, “Do you reckon Roger will be angry?”

“Mhm.” Mello replied, “Why, you scared?”

“No! No, I really enjoyed today. I’ll take whatever punishment.” He smiled, “Promise me we will run away together again soon, please?”

Mello’s eyelids felt too heavy to fight against, and as he breathed in the familiar smell of Matt, his mind wandered to that bright sunny skyline of the postcard buried in his jacket.

“Yes Matt, we will.”

[thunder-opossum]

... artificer ough I'm so eepy. Why is skywing anatomy difficult? I couldnt dra when right. I'll do her justice later maybe with some skywing head cannons, anyways. Her name is Blast. She is not a fire scales but it was very tempting. She covers herself in coal and flammable substances and sets herself ablaze though bc she cool like that. Very big, very hot fire and huge wingspan.

No jewelry or anything because she'd just melt it off. She's more resistant to flame than other skywings.

I might add armour and stuff but I gotta save that for a concept sketch or something bc my brain isn't braining :/

I just wanted to put this sketch out to follow the pattern. I'll draw more of her later.

I'm not even putting this in the mailing list. Need sleep 3a.m when I wrote this, not correcting anymore spelling errors bc funny. Can't wait to wake up and see outrageous grammar.

[homestuckreplay]

dave strider piss arc :(

(page 1430-1447)

This update begins by explicitly confirming that Rose is the Seer, which is still surprising to me, so I want to crack into the meaning of these titles for a moment.

John is the Heir, which relates to inheritance and family, something he’s really surrounded by. His sprite is his own nanna, he found an important message in his heirloom Colonel Sassacre’s (passed between three generations), and his dad’s notes, safe and room loomed large even after Dad himself was kidnapped. In their episode covering the LOWAS walkaround, Serious Business podcast mentioned that John has escaped his house but is still surrounded by items from his house that fell to the ground and were adopted by the salamanders, which I thought was a great point. So the first part of John’s title, ‘heir’, describes how he’s (unwillingly) defined by his family, while the second part, ‘breath’, relates to his windy land in Sburb. John’s quest is to free the fireflies and get rid of the oil (p.1358 – CHECK!!!!!!!!!!!!!) which relates to escape and no longer being trapped, as well as free and open communication via the mail system, and a clean, natural environment (something very unlike the suburbs, perhaps). It’s possible that a Sburb player’s quest almost subverts the first part of their title.

Rose is the Seer, which relates to understanding, transcendental knowledge, and magical divination. Rose definitely sees herself as smarter and more objective than the average person, and her superiority complex is one of her clearest flaws. So her quest could in some way involve opening her eyes to alternative viewpoints and coming to understand that she’s wrong sometimes. I love this idea, because these titles are presumably temporary and only exist while the characters are within the Incipisphere – they don’t define their whole lives temporally and they also can’t sum them up as entire, complex people. So it makes sense for the players’ quests to be about exploring beyond their current self conceptions, and learning how to be otherwise.

I don’t know who is messaging Rose with the fancy on-screen dialog boxes, but it’s similar to what we’ve seen in walkarounds on page 253 and 1358 when clicking on a player or interactable item, and has already been extended to still panels with PM’s sequence on pages 1417-29. So, this must be a way to clearly indicate terminal commands without having to make a full walkaround game, and this is a natural transition because we’ve seen it so recently. I like the idea that each future construct (each terminal?) uses a different font, like an analog to the different Pesterchum text colors.

This sequence explains why Rose wasn’t answering John or Dave for a while after entering (p.1391, 1393). In act 2 she was very critical of John for being ‘completely unresponsive’ (p.508), ignoring messages and behaving strangely, not knowing about WV’s commands. Now she’s experiencing the other end of it, and it could explain why she’s currently smiling and claiming to ‘like it here’ (p.1402) if her mind is being influenced by someone else. I can’t imagine Rose enjoys someone else thinking for her, so I’m excited to see her reaction once she realizes what’s going on.

These two panels side by side (p.1433-34) are extremely cool – Rose and John facing opposite directions, each with a nearby light flickering on their face. Despite the different art styles it’s like they are wordlessly looking at each other across a fire or something, and is a very smooth transition between the characters.

John sees two new enemy types on his land – the TAR BASILISK and COPPER GICLOPS, with some imps and salamanders for scale. Looking at this side by side with page 1081, the giclops doesn’t look much bigger than the crude ogres, but is probably tougher and has spikes or something, with better attack patterns. This is good from a game design standpoint to vary enemy types instead of just having them get bigger with more health, so props to Skaia I guess. It didn’t need to make its game this cool but it did anyway.

From there we move back to Jade and Dave playing Sburb, and get some parallels with Act 1 as Jade tries to figure out the mechanics and Dave is left powerless to her bathroom destruction. Dave gets over four hours on his cruxtruder countdown, so Jade being proactive installing the game actually did help! And instead of prototyping the sprite with the dead crow because she’d seen it in a vision, as I expected, she just did it due to feeling sad for the bird. And maybe because, just a few pages ago, Dave told Jade ‘i always keep birds in here its sort of my thing’ and that he was a ‘lame gothy supervillain’ (p.1400). That was to waking Jade, so it doesn’t carry over, but I still feel like Dave has no right to complain.

There’s now a ‘first prototyping’ gif for both John (p.185) and Dave (p.1446) but Rose’s was within [S] Enter, and not a page in itself. If Jade gets one I’m gonna be so annoyed by the asymmetry of it all.

We see more of the distinction between waking Jade and dream Jade. Waking Jade is pretty good at Sburb, has some amount of common sense, and is aware of the basics on what needs to happen. Dream Jade is flighty, very emotional, disconnected from the situation and nearly impossible to reason with, She almost feels like a receiver for information; it goes through her but she’s unable to actually do anything with it – see Dave asking Jade not to prototype the sprite, and Jade having this thought immediately overwritten.

Anyway I gotta talk about the worst part of this update, which is Dave’s piss prank. From what I know about cultural stereotypes of teenage boys, this could happen, but it’s still bad to think about and a shitty thing to do. I don’t care that it’s gross, but it says a lot about Dave that his reason for wanting to trick John into drinking piss is to punish him for having bad taste in movies, and his reason for not pulling this prank is that he can’t be bothered. What a brutal and toxic mindset to think that it’s okay to make somebody sick for liking a movie. What a defense mechanism to paper a ‘don’t want to’ over meaningfully considering his actions.

That being said, I like the panels on page 1441, and how they perfectly lay out Dave’s plan. The caption and followup page aren’t even needed – these tell the whole story in an impressive shorthand.

[smallestapplin]

Hey there, hope you're well!

Would you consider writing Mipha (botw / aoc) with a fem reader? She's my absolute fav but I so rarely see anything with her! Thank you <3

YESYESYES ANYTHING FOR YOU!! Oh my I’m so giddy rn thank you!!!!

I went with fluff if that’s okay!

-

-

-

Courting the princess of the Zora was a dream come true, Mipha is ever the giving lover, always having something to share with you, always wanting to whisk you away for a quiet moment together, not wanting anyone to see you two.

She’s bashful of all the staring, though it never dampens her love and affection for you, nothing could stop her love or how deep it ran. Even as she sits in her room at the reservoir, moon high in the sky telling her she should be sleeping, but she can’t, not yet.

Her hands ache, but that doesn’t make her stop threading the armor peices together, it’s taken ages for her to gather enough of her own scales and peices of chain mail for this, she can’t stop yet.

The blue armor makes the splashes of red pop more as she chains a pattern, wanting to add a bit of herself into the armor she’s making for her so she will always be with you. By the time she’s finished her eyes are drooping with heavy bags under them, exhaustion finally hitting her all at once.

But it’s done! Holding up the armor, she can’t help but smile, it would look beautiful on you. Setting the peice back down on her desk, she sighs, slouching in her seat, everything aches, just how long had she been at this?

“Mipha!”

Her eyes widen as she moves quickly, hiding the armor in her deepest desk draw, before whipping around to the voice singing her name. You smile at her, the rising sun giving you a divine glow, sweet and welcoming. She blinks from her thoughts and noting your worried expression.

“Good morning, my love, I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

Your worry doesn’t dimenish as you walk closer, hands raising up to gently cup her cheeks.

“Did you not sleep? You look exhausted.”

Mipha melts into your touch, your hands much warmer than her, she can’t help but to nuzzle into your hands.

“I apologize, I’m afraid I didn’t I lost track of time, it seems.” Her soft voice trailing off into a yawn, she’s far more tired than she realized, where had the time even gone.

Mipha squeaks as you easily pick her up, her smaller lighter frame making it a quick job to get her to her bed, where you lay her down.

“You lay here and relax, I’ll get you some tea to help you decompress.”

“Dear, you don’t have to-“

You cut her off with a kiss to her forehead.

“I know I don’t but I want to. Rest now.”

Mipha watches you rush over to the small kitchetnett she has, preparing a fire and picking out a suitable tea to help her sleep. Her eyes linger over you, taking in every detail she could, noting how you seem sleepy despite your journey to the domain, your clothes look fine if not more comfortable looking than most.

Despite this, you still choose to do this for her? She can feel her face burning with a blush of blue, her heart hammering against her chest at the soft domestic nature of it all. You come back to her, cup of warm tea in hand and handing it to her, as you carefully lay down next to her, making her scooch over to share the bed.

“I hope it’s to your liking, this tea is suppose to help you fall asleep better.” You nuzzle up to her making your shoulders and legs touch.

Mipha takes a deep breath, basking in the moment just a little longer.

“Thank you, my love.”

“Anything for you, my princess.”

She slowly sips the beverage, letting the warm liquid soothe her tired body, while she thrives under your touch, feeling you so close to her letting her senses be engulfed by you, surrounded by your scent.

She feels so safe, so cozy, like this is where she belonged all this time. She blinks, sitting back up after hearing you chuckle, only to see you holding her almost empty cup and setting it on the night stand.

“I didn’t want you spilling the rest all over yourself.”

“Oh…I’m sorry I didn’t realize I was…” she trails off again, yawning once more.

“Shh, come here.” You gently pull her to your side, letting her rest her head on your chest as you wrap your arms around her.

Her golden eyes widen a fraction, even after all this time together she still can’t believe you’re hers and wish to hold her in such a way. Slowly Mipha places her arms around you, holding you close to her.

You smile, trying to bite back a laugh as you feel her head tail lightly smacking your arm in a lazy wag, you’re just so happy she’s comfortable.

“Now get some rest, if anyone calls for you I’ll handle it, ok?”

“But what if-“

“My sweet, if it’s important I’ll wake you up, but you need sleep.”

Mipha looks at you, seemingly wanting to argue more but she knows you’re right, she can’t be helpful if she’s sleep deprived. She relents, nuzzling into your side and relaxing, getting comfy in your hold.

“Good night, Mipha, I love you.” You kiss the top of her head, smiling at your drowsy beloved.

“I love you too.” You faintly hear her mutter, as she slowly drifts off into dreamland.

She wanted to give you the armor today, perhaps she’ll have to wait another time, she hopes soon, she wants you to be in her everyday life, to have more moments like this, not just as her partner but as her bride.