#the program I use is called Blend Threads

[soerdinan]

The pattern for the Frog cross stitch patch

[balrogballs]

queen of ai art <3

I genuinely have no idea what the fuck is in the tap water right now considering these all came in the last ten days from what I suppose are different people considering I blocked the first two… either that or it is one very persistent person or the collective actions of what I assume is probably the world’s most depressing groupchat. Incest anon, come back, I miss you on hindsight.

I don't normally answer mean-spirited questions but these pissed me off recently because of the nature of the accusations. So, let’s get into a long, illustrated lesson including a WIP gallery as to why you shouldn’t rely on “gotcha” AI logic and/or be a little twat, with tips on manual digital scaling, presented in classic Balls style.

Now, the vast majority of my art is traditional, many are quick ‘challenge’ sketches—they are drawn or painted on paper. With many of them, there are progress shots. Sometimes multiple, including fucking gemwork. Sometimes I do silly sketches. I have also been quite open that I’m really focusing on exploring varying styles of portraiture at the moment after an artistic background in watercolour landscapes. A number of you follow my traditional art blog where said landscapes were posted, and you know they’re banging.

Now, I’ve posted *checks notes* like five digital pieces last year from the time I owned a tablet (after which all my work has been trad due to being indefinitely parted from said tablet), and none of them are what you’d call professional quality, considering most of my work is traditional/realist and I am still not very good at stylised or digital drawing. I’ll choose my “best”/most detailed one for the purposes of this impromptu demonstration using the files I do have on me at the moment.

Due to my background in traditional art 👆🏻I always and without fail do my initial sketching by hand, because I find it difficult to get perspective and proportions correct digitally, because I learnt various pencil angling tricks etc… so anything I have drawn digitally that includes people/buildings, I’d do a sketch on paper and scan it, and do the lineart from there.

Here is the sketch, the sketch cleaned up into lineart, shaded values, and a portion of the colour-blocking stage, where I checked to make sure the major colours don’t clash at the borders, thanks to Thingol’s bright orange outfit from hell.

I assume what has been done here is that you or whatever program you’re using has picked up on the below little noisy bits, threads and spirals and decided they’re AI. Let me introduce you to the magic of textural overlays, aka texture stamps/brushes, which I get so impatient with that it becomes quite obvious they’re on there… which works in my favour right now lmao.

Here is me sliding the opacity on and off sections, so you can see what exactly is going on (pillar with marbled effect, thingol skin texture, elrond jacket texture, elrond's remarkable forehead, and the marbled archway):

These aren’t overlaid by my mystery robot sex toy, they are done by hand and there’s around 20-30 different ones in any given piece, some of them (eg skin texture or leaves) are repeated 10-15 times. Using texture brushes or stamps is not a cardinal sin, they are literally sold on this website by the artists who make them. Here is a clip of me just selecting them all in one go, if you’d like that proven for your face eyes as well.

I have no excuses for overblending my colours or leaving sections choppy, I’m just lazy to do painterly detail on stylised digital pieces, and usually just stop after a couple rounds of blending. But if laziness was a crime then most nation-states in this world would not have a functioning government.

Now, the final two stages—because the base for these images are usually scans or photos of my sketches and thus not exactly at the best of resolutions, I upscale in Lightroom. Amusingly, image upscaling is actually normally done by AI either built into Photoshop or plugins—this isn’t exactly generative AI, it’s more an algorithm that breaks down your existing photo and “reconstructs” it at a higher resolution. Hence, many upscaled images are flagged as AI regardless of the manner of upscaling.

I am too stingy to purchase Photoshop, the above plugins can/do use your art to train generative AI even if it doesn’t use it for your image, and I have Lightroom Classic already—upscaling is relatively easy to do here and does not train AI. Here’s a walkthrough:

Open Image > Denoise > Play with Slider > Save as TIFF > Open TIFF > Develop Module > Enhance > Save DNG. Then, work on DNG image re: adding noise/brightness/contrast whatever.

Just a note that the ‘Super Resolution’ feature does actually use (algorithmic, not generative) AI so don’t click on that, just do the normal Enhance. This will increase your image size and resolution without sacrificing detail. However, the file itself would be fucking enormous by this point so you can either compress it yourself or use Canva or whatever.

If you don’t mean those and instead mean these fucking things, jesus fucking christ they’re free graphic design templates with free Illustrator vectors, get a fucking grip, ten days in a charity comms job and you can make these in your sleep while moving the mouse with your pussy.

Here is a collage of some of my other digital works at various stages as well, including pencil/pen sketches, to help you sleep at night:

Please remember that I stopped posting digital art except one charcoal+digital work after I was parted from my tablet in December. If I was really iBalls, I would have continued churning them out surely 😇

Writing

I am not going to even take this seriously because there is clearly no way to explain the concept of writing something in advance to people who clearly type out and immediately send every half-dusted thought the moment it farts itself into their brain.

However, if you are actually sitting in your home in the year 2025, when there is almost definitely litter in your neighbourhood that needs picking and dogs on the Rover app that go unwalked, feeding my fucking writing into whatever fucking AI detector you have that is, in turn, training whatever fucking AI generator it is linked to, simply because of whatever robot you have created in your brain that somehow knows very niche facts about the lifestyle, dialect, speech patterns, culture and politics of a frankly irrelevant town in 1970s Kerala, I genuinely do not wish you a single moment of joy in your life

I have already or will soon be privating some of my artwork considering there are people cheerfully sat there feeding my work to Musk’s field of cows in order to get yourself a good old gotcha against some random Elrondfucker on the Internet — I’m obviously not going to do that to my writing at the moment but please stop letting your actions be driven by your asshole instead of your brain.

As for this one, I initially thought of not being so cocky in my response but considering I either get a version of this like once a month or some fucker goes to another person’s blog to ask them if I’m not tired of people kissing my ass, let me tell you something:

I am not whatever hockey-playing girlboss it was that was a bitch to you in high school and you are now afraid is intruding into your fandom space. She must have sucked I am certain. I am very sorry you had to deal with her. But I am not her. She is not me. I can assure you of this. If you must know, I was a netball girl. In fact, I was netball team captain. If it actually was me, I sincerely apologise for accidentally on purpose fouling you in 2014 because I wanted to win the intra-school friendly and I promise I won’t ever do it again.

And just in general, let me please remind you that I did not curate this audience through purposeful posting of art and literature and tasteful selfies, I did it via the 'Lindircident' post, aka accidentally holding my asshole wide open for the light to shine through two weeks after I made this account and remaining in the same doubled-up position for the six months since.

Tschüss! 🖕

[introdemodev]

Haiii me again what brushes do you use for lineart or uhh how do you do those textures thingies i can never get those to work

i use a variety of brushes but my main ones are these three!

you can download the first pen here and the third pen here. i dont remember where the second brush came from (as in, i dont remember if i made it or if i tinkered around with the settings, so i dont want to re-upload it just in case). all three brushes are similar to the blots brush in sai2.

if you want a brush that's even MORE textured and dry, alex's ink is good. you can download them here and here. i used those brushes for this scene:

as for the paper textures, the quickest way to get that 'vintage' or 'old' effect is by using paper textures and black&white grunge textures. multiply the paper layer and use screen for the grunge layer. you can also play around with the blending and level settings to get various effects.

there are grunge brushes available if you want more control over it (and to decrease file size), this one is good and this one is good too.

and lastly...for the halftones, there are three auto actions i use. first one is kemo's auto action. i used it for some of the sprites. you can download it here.

for the second one (and the one i use the most), unfortunately, i dont remember where i found the download for it. if it helps, it was called separations and i want to say i found it on a forum thread.

the best way to do halftones, without using brushes, is on photoshop. i used this tutorial to create my photoshop auto action.

there's also various of halftone brushes available if you want to have control of your dots. links here, here, here, and here (this one comes with an auto action AND brushes).

i only use clip studio paint nowadays, so i don't know what the equivalents would be in other art programs. if you're looking for something outside of clip studio paint, try looking up brushes that are described as 'textured', 'rough', 'dry', 'grunge', 'blotty', 'runny', 'blotchy', 'gritty', 'noise', 'charcoal', 'sumi-e', 'ink wash', etc.

[yuzu-all-the-way]

FaOI 2023 Makuhari Day 1 - Impressions

The first show day of Fantasy on Ice 2023 has come to an end. Besides me having a terrible headache throughout most of the day, it was a pretty good start to the A tour - chaotic, scary and... dangerous (from multiple points of view).

Within the first hour of the show*, there was nothing - no photos from the media, no reports from the audience in the venue, no news reporting on anything... just us, international Fanyus, camping on Twitter, waiting for someone to say something. Personally, I used that time to close my eyes and try to make the headache go away (yeah, no such luck).

Then the breaktime came and Japanese people were reporting left and right about Yuzu doing something in the OP, but no one knew quiet exactly what - apparently the usual FaOI choreo changed a bit because the number of skaters is less, so Yuzu blended in with the skaters before his name was called out - the trademark 4T happened, although wobbly. Not that it matters.

At this point, it's not really relevant what HAPPENED in the OP, but what was shown. Arms, bare arms, but those were sort of overshadowed by the 'interesting' design of the OP costume. I'm not going to judge it too hard because I haven't seen it in motion yet, so I'll have to wait for Sunday for that.

After the flood of reports (translation thread of Japanese live reports), there was a pause and then... way before the show should've ended, more reports started flooding. This time not about the show itself, but about the earthquake that happened. A 6.2 magnitude earthquake with the epicenter in Chiba happened while the show was in full swing and, for safety reasons, the performances were suspended for a while. The staff made sure the audience was seated and not panicking, confirmation of no tsunami danger came, and the staff ran a safety check of the venue. The earthquake was bad enough for the rods holding the lights to shake, so it was extremely important to make sure everything was in order and properly fixed.

Maybe 15 minutes later, the show resumed. And then came the anxiety because we just knew Yuzu was close if not already performing his new program. And since we knew that the opening 4T was messed up, we also thought that a mad combo must happen at the end. It just had to.

Once the show ended (and my headache was still as strong as ever), more reports started coming in - and Yuzu's program turned out to be a performance to IF by DA PUMP. The costume was still a mystery, though, the best description being something like "white open jacket, black and white sleeves, vest, chains". It obviously sounded like a very cool J-rock outfit. And boy, oh boy, THAT did not disappoint.

As for the finale, I really don't remember anything about it from the reports because the costume got my entire attention. What I can remember is that no report came about any unhinged jump combination done by Yuzu.

This was supposed to be me reflecting on what I've learnt about the show, not summarizing it, but it is what it is. So about the actual impressions:

-> FaOI's costume designer for sure has a knack of finding ways to make the most questionable costumes look decent if not good on Yuzu. Seriously, though, what's the point of tops at this point, since they barely hold any material?

-> there isn't FaOI Makuhari if an earthquake doesn't happen (2019, 2022 specifically). I sure was scared to learn about the earthquake. The people in the venue were shaken, and I can only imagine what Yuzu and the skaters must've felt. Once the danger had passed, I'm sure they gave their 100% in the finale to conclude the show on a high note

-> I'm not fond of the music for Yuzu's program, but I wasn't fond of Real Face and Raison either, but they grew on me (especially Raison), so it might happen again this year, too

-> camping on twitter is nerve-wracking, there's no news then there's too many news in an unknown language, and the automatic translation sometimes messes up so bad you can't tell anything but "Yuzu, teeth, stomach" - I still have no clue what that meant

-> but the gratification comes in the flood of photos from the media and saving AS MANY AS POSSIBLE without saving doubles (or triple, quadruple, quintuple copies)... I think I made a decent job

I don't really have a platform where I could share all the photos I've saved (they are quite a lot), but I posted some OP, EX, and Finale photos as a way of 'summarizing' the show through them

*The photos were released about 1h after the show, though

[umichenginabroad]

Week 7 in Prague: The Dynamics of Dorm Life, Classroom Camaraderie, and the Quest for Local Connections

"From Hallway Hellos to Classroom Insights: Navigating Social Landscapes Abroad"

Ciao! This week in Prague, the intricate tapestry of relationships—forged within the confines of European apartment walls and the intimacy of small classrooms—has taken center stage in my study abroad narrative. The experience of living in an apartment building in Europe, reminiscent of freshman year but with the twist of being surrounded by eight floors of classmates, offers a unique blend of nostalgia and novelty. Meanwhile, the small classroom format presents a golden opportunity to connect with professors on a level seldom experienced back at Michigan. However, amidst these vibrant social interactions, the challenge of forging genuine connections with Czech locals highlights a poignant gap in the international experience.

Dorm Life: A Revival of Freshman Spirit

Living in the apartments again, especially in a foreign country, is like stepping back into a familiar scene of dorms with a fresh set of eyes. The hallways always echo with noise from students I’ve never met, and each door opens to a different world, reflecting the diverse tapestry of students who've come to call Prague their temporary home. There's a sense of camaraderie, a shared adventure, that binds us, from late-night card sessions to impromptu poker gatherings in the communal kitchen, sharing hilarious stories from our different experiences. Though this level of impromptu-ness sometimes gets my long distance girlfriend back home a little upset as I flake on a lot of our plans to facetime and catch up (hi if you’re reading this, I think I’m free next Monday).

Insight: Embrace the communal spirit. These hallways aren't just transit routes; they're avenues to some pretty dope people from some pretty cool places. Make some friends.

The Classroom Connection

The contrast to Michigan's often large, impersonal lecture halls couldn't be more striking. Here, the small classro om format fosters an environment of close-knit learning and personal engagement with professors who aren't just educators but become mentors, and sometimes, friends. Discussions are rich and deep, with every student's voice not only heard but valued. This level of academic intimacy enriches the learning experience, making it not just about the transfer of knowledge but about the exchange of perspectives.

Tip: Take advantage of this unique academic setting. Engage, question, and contribute. These interactions are as much a part of your education as the textbooks.

The Elusive Local Connection

However, amid this tapestry of international relationships and academic engagement, a thread remains loose: the connection with Czech locals. Despite the welcoming nature of Prague's streets and the cordiality encountered in regular day-to-day interactions, forging deeper relationships with Czechs has proven challenging… or honestly quite impossible. Their reserved nature, coupled with the fact that we don’t even go to an actual university, often results in missed opportunities for deeper cultural exchange and friendship. The only places I really get to interact with the locals ends up being on nights out at bars or pubs, and even then it's mostly tourists. Czech people have a tendency of being within themselves and breaking that circle without forced interactions remains a mystery.

Reflection: It's important to respect and understand the local temperament. Friendship here may require more patience and effort, but the potential for a genuine connection is worth it.

Bridging the Gap

In seeking to bridge this gap, perhaps the answer lies in stepping beyond the comfort zones of dorm life and classroom confines, engaging more actively with community events, local meetups, or language exchange programs that offer a platform for more organic interactions with Czech locals.

My Personal Action Plan (New Blog’s Resolution): Participate in community events, join local clubs or groups that align with my interests, and be open to the slow but rewarding process of building friendships with locals.

^ not Czech locals but outsiders from Sweden nonetheless

Wrapping Up

This week has been a reflection on the complexities of building relationships in a new cultural setting. From the bustling dorm life filled with international voices to the enriching academic environment and the nuanced challenge of connecting with Czech locals, each aspect of social interaction here adds a valuable layer to the study abroad experience.

As the weeks progress, the goal remains not just to explore Prague's streets and landmarks but to weave a richer social fabric, one that includes not just fellow students and professors but also the local Czech community.

Here's to more shared moments, lessons learned, and bridges built.

Uvidíme se příště!,

Rachit Khandelwal

[clairethecutepup]

Title: A String's Many Uses... (Ed Edd n' Eddy, "Assassin AU")

"I'm not going to kill you, silly~... You're doing it yourself, 'little dolly.'"

- Sarah, after Goon "A" jeers at the thought of some "prissy ballerina" taking him out, if he doesn't scram.

"Now, now, if you insist on falling to pieces, you should do so properly~."

- Jimmy, after Goon "B" freaks out over Sarah managing to physically manipulate his cohort into forced suicide.

Click "keep reading" for artist's notes...

Did I say C2ndy2C1d's version of Sarah and Jimmy unnerve me? Sorry, I should correct myself: I'm jumping out the most lethal window height, if this version of them ever tried coming within 100 ft of me. Maybe I just "headcanon" this version of them as being more malicious and childishly "playful" than they're actually meant to be in the AU, even when they're assassins that kill people for a living and can't be expected as the most moral beings; but they often did have a crueler/sinister side in the actual EEnE series, and I'd imagine they'd only grow that sense of ruthlessness and cunningness when entering a highly amoral career choice. I doubt the "puppet masters" and professional acupuncturists here wouldn't be too shy about-- and keep your mind out of the gutter here --taking a chance to get all "hands on" and playful with an amusingly fearful shorty, like me. I'd probably be perfectly "dolly-sized," as I could hear Sarah giggling.

Anyhow, the actual file of this thing is about .8 mb over the acceptable size for PNGs, here on Tumblr. Thank goodness for the concept of "Print Screen" and Paint, for "shrinking" the size of a file and not harming the quality, really.

As for the "design-wise" aspects, this was a great opportunity to practice the "shading assistance" feature in Clip Studio Paint: I have to say, it doesn't look too bad, but I wish there was a way to make it appear a bit more smoothly blended. Of course, I had to use red coloring to cover up a yellow spot it made under Sarah's hair, but you should stick to AI art if you expect to let a program do everything for you and do no proper "touch-ups" as needed. I also liked the "gradient" tool, too, 'cause it helped make those neat backgrounds possible! I ensured to have Sarah and Jimmy stand in the center of their "light beams" behind them, while the goons would have the main focus of their lethal injuries be "illuminated" in a similar fashion. I didn't intend for the whiter section to practically "line up," in the two goons' squares, but I'm glad it practically did 'cause it looks nice. I also hope their injuries aren't "gory," but let's be honest: if you can't handle red circles or a spritz of VERY cartoonish-looking blood droplets, I dunno if you should further traverse the internet, lest you end up a mess from the REALLY traumatizing stuff out there...

Also, ever since Puppy Eyes and Doll Eyes (click for comic), I've been adamant about giving Sarah and Jimmy these signature "slasher smiles": Sarah having fiercely glaring eyes and a malicious sneer, while Jimmy has a gleefully sadistic grin and eye filled with ecstatic cruelty. Ohh boy, speaking of that, the (fully-human) Claire is sure in for a ride, when the fan comic series for this AU comes out... Sorry, Claire, but I'd rather YOU be forced to constantly be near them, as part of the "apprentice" program by the organization, than come within 1,000 ft of those two myself. Hey, I said I'd only jump out the window, if the distance was 100 ft, as I'm confident I could find the appropriate one to escape through while they're closing that 900 ft gap.

Anyhow, if you like this piece, thank Demon Slayer for inspiring it, by reminding me of the duo: the "mother" of the spider family could control people with her threads (she even calls them her "dolls"), and the Kizuki that created said family would cut people up with his thread. Interesting fact: C2ndy2C1d's ref. sheet for Sarah and Jimmy only states that thread of theirs is good for cutting bodies than controlling them, it's really fan art and all that portrays them as actual puppet masters-- even if one of C2ndy2C1d's digital art pieces DID depict the duo extending the string from their fingertips, like their hands were actual "crosses" for a puppet's wires to dangle from.

[lunarcovehq]

L is for the way you look at me O is for the only one I see V is very, very extraordinary E is even more than anyone that you adore can

HOW TO BE A HEARTBREAKER - V-DAY EVENT

Valentine’s Day- what might be seen as a day of love for the Cove’s newer residents is a reminder for those who were here last year that they can’t be too careful, which is precisely why the Council has taken immediate action this Valentine’s day to protect the town they call home. 

Once a year, the mirage that acts as a protective barrier around Lunar Cove needs to be reinforced. So, while the Coven and the Fae Court will be blending their magic together to ensure the town remains safe from surrounding threats, Lunar Cove will be hosting Single’s Week, a number of fun activities at secure locations around town where residents can enjoy themselves. From singing telegrams to speed dating to anti-valentine’s day piñatas, Single’s Week will have events for everyone of every species and is a chance for the town to come together and embrace what makes each and every resident unique.

REMINDERS

This is a plot-driven event that will start on 2/3 out of character while taking place over the week of 2/7-2/14 in character. 

Please keep your eyes out for multiple plot drops that will be happening throughout the week which your characters can continually react to.

The tag for the event is lunarcoveevent5. Everything from pictures, outfits & threads etc. should be under this tag. Starters should have both the starter and event tag. 

This event is mandatory and, as always, big plots should be discussed with the admins before playing them out on the dash, so if you have any big plots you want to do, please let us know.

For anyone looking to bring in new characters, we will continue to have regular acceptances until our first plot drop on 2/10. After the plot drop, we will be temporarily pausing acceptance so as to not have new players come in at the height of what will bound to be some chaos on the dash. 

As for the Activities Below, the below is written out in order of which activities are happening on which day of the week, but feel free to react to or post starters for any of the below in whichever order you would like. We just ask if you can hold off making any posts on Valentine’s Day itself until after the future plot drops are drops.

Last, but not least, we hope you have fun!

ACTIVITIES

THROUGHOUT THE WEEK

Singing Telegrams- Swing by Lunar Cove Times anytime throughout the week to purchase a Candy Gram for someone to receive. Each gram costs a dollar and will come with a piece of candy, a note with whatever you’d like to be sung out by the Time’s very own Cupid, @antonioalvarez, and a rose from Just in Bloom. Proceeds go towards the Lunar Cove Community Writing Program to help other inspiring writers get their start and Telegrams can be anonymous if you so choose.

Blood Drive- Hosted by the Clan and the B Positive Blood Bank, there is no better way to celebrate “V Day” than to donate blood to your favorite Vamps. Swing by the local blood drive throughout the week to give back and get yourself a complimentary “I <3 Vamps” sticker and heart shaped donut with extra sprinkles for every donation. No faes allowed.

TUESDAY-

Cookie & Cupcake Decorating - Valentine’s Day is not only the day of love, but Single’s Awareness Day and what better way to celebrate being single than swinging by Sucré where you can decorate your very own S.A.D. cupcakes and Heartbreak shaped cookies.

Lock & Key - Unlock your heart and stomach down at Joe’s Pasta & Pizzeria! Each participant will be paired by Joe himself. Half will be given a key and the other half a lock. Once you find your pairing, you and your partner will be given a romantic candlelit dinner to share a pizza your heart. Disclaimer: There are no discounts for entry.

WEDNESDAY- 

Most Eligible Calendar - It wouldn’t be a single’s week without a spicy single’s calendar. Each participate will be voted on by their peers to be assigned a month to model with the one with the most votes getting their picture on the Cover.

Cupid’s Undie Run- There may still be a fresh layer of snow on the ground and a chill in the air, but what may keep you bundled up inside for most of February, is the perfect excuse to take part in the town’s annual Snow Run! Hosted by the Pack at Bad Moon Brewery, get some festive cocktails and shots in you before stripping down into your underwear and racing around the Town Green. First one back to the brewery, gets free drinks for the rest of the year!

THURSDAY-

Rose Tinted Galentine’s Day Brunch - During your lunch break, swing by Rose Tinted to enjoy an instagram worthy Thirsty-Thursday brunch with bottomless mimosas and 90′s Girl Band playlist running on repeat.

Speed to My Heart- It wouldn’t be Single’s Week without Speed Dating! But, Lunar Cove’s Speed to My Heart event at the Daily Drip isn’t solely for couples. It is your chance to mix and mingle to get to know your fellow residents and leave with a potential spark or even a new friend! The rules are simple: someone sits across from someone else, they get to know each other until 5 minutes are up, and it’s on to the next contender. Bring your a-game and get ready to meet some new faces!

FRIDAY-

Straight Through The Heart- In the spirit of Anti-Valentine’s Day festivities, swing by the Rage Cage to let out some aggression by smashing heart shaped piñatas and various other Valentine’s Day themed items. You are also welcome to bring your own items to smash whether it be the favorite mug of your exe’s or something else entirely. Rules and conditions apply.

Kissing Booth - Finish your Friday Night by swinging by the Starlight Bar for half-off cocktails if you visit the Kissing booth. Donate a dollar to get a smooch from the town’s most eligible bachelor and bachelorette volunteers at the Kissing Booth. All proceeds from the night go towards cleaning up the Cove’s beaches.

SATURDAY-

Wine Tasting - Swing by Ambrosia’s opening night for charcuterie and wine tasting. This event is Black Tie attire and will have a menu tailored for each guest from a number of different cheeses, chocolate-themed dishes and beverages. Reservations only. They won’t accommodate any walk-ins. 

Break-Up Bar & Exhibit- For any Newly Singles out there who aren’t ready to get into something new just yet, swing by the Break-Up Bar & Exhibit at Art in Motion. Enjoy a wide variety of comfort foods, settle into one of the many bean bag chairs set up in the exhibit and watch classic break-up scenes in movies. There is even a Wall of Broken Relationships set up along the back of the exhibit where you can add a memento of a relationship you are grieving or are moving on from.

SUNDAY-

24 Hour Rom Com-A-Thon- For all of you romance fans out there, stop by the Drive In to watch a classic rom com- from How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days to Roman Holiday, the Drive In will be showing famous Rom Coms from all different time periods all day long.

Eat Your Heart Out- At the Drive In, you can also participate in the Ice Cream Eating Contest brought to you by Happy Scoop. The first one who can down a whole pint of Ice Cream wins free tickets to the Drive In for the next three months. But, be careful. Eat too fast and you may get brain freeze. 

MONDAY- MANDATORY FOR ALL CHARRIES

For Resident’s safety, the entire town has shut down for a town wide two-day holiday. All Residents are required to head to the Lunar Cove Country Club where they will be safe while the Coven & Fae Court can reinforce the mirage-

COVEN & FAE COURT ONLY: All Coven & Fae Court members, under the instructions of their Supreme and Fae Queen, will meet at the town border to perform a ritual together to reinforce the barrier around town that has been weakening. After the ritual is complete, they may join the rest of Town at the Country Club for the last few acts of the Talent Show.

EVERYONE ELSE IN TOWN: Everyone else in town will remain inside the Country Club for a few hours for their own protection. A smaller barrier will be set up around the Country Club to keep the residents safe and the property will be guarded by the Clan & the Pack for extra measure. But, have no fear. Inside the Country Club, all towns people will be able to enjoy a five course meal with each course being catered by a different restaurant around town as they watch Lunar Cove’s very own Talent Show. Residents are all encouraged to submit their own acts and acts will be voted on by the end of the night to select a winner. 

VALENTINE’S DAY- MANDATORY FOR ALL CHARRIES

WILL BE DROPPED IN A PLOT DROP LATER IN THE WEEK. PLEASE KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR IT.

[reiindeergames-a]

@shieldslingertm​ different timeline, same verse (canon divergent thread, 2012)

  Loki remembers it like it was yesterday. February 5th, 1945. Or at least, that was the date on Midgard at the time...    She had never expected to care about someone so deeply. Back on Asgard, she had always felt alone, even when she wasn’t. Meeting Steve during her banishment was probably the best thing that ever happened to her. Loki had tried blending in by playing the part of a normal young woman. Dating was a part of that role. Playing that part never changed for as long as she was on Midgard. She never did tell Steve the truth, never thought she HAD to. But the part where she faked being in love DID change. Because after a while, Loki realized she wasn’t acting anymore. She really had begun loving him. Tiny, scrawny Steve, who stood up for her on their very first date, knowing he picked a fight he couldn’t easily win. Steve, who kept trying to fight for what he believed in, time after time, when no one else believed in HIM. Hell, they didn’t even believe in him once he DID get the strength and endurance to fight.    It was all kinds of adorable and admirable. Loki fell for him so hard it sometimes made her chest tighten up, like her heart was so full of love it took up all the space in it’s cavity.

  They got engaged just before Steve was picked for the Super Soldier program, and Loki remembers making love to him for the very first time the night before he took it. They knew the serum was going to change him, even if they didn’t know to what extend.. so even if originally Steve had wanted to wait until they were actually married, they both knew the whole situation wasn’t without risk. Especially thinking he was going to go fight in the war afterwards.   Then when Steve was made to tour all over America and Europe, Loki was always with him. She toured with him, comforted him when he needed it, and yelled at some people when she didn’t agree with how Steve was treated  ( they soon learned that Steve Rogers’ fiancée was NOT to be messed with )  which was rather often, honestly.

  They’ve been through so much together, shared so many good and bad moments, they had become inseparable.   Until February 5th, 1945.

  Loki got to talk to Steve very briefly over the radio, before his plane crashed and he was never heard from again.. She can’t even begin to count the amount of times she has replayed the moment over in her head, hearing Steve’s voice for the very last time.

  She immediately left for Asgard. With Bucky dead she didn’t really talk to Dottie anymore either, and since Steve was gone, she didn’t have a reason to stay. She was heartbroken, obviously. The only person she has ever truly loved was gone, and it hurt more than she could ever have imagined.

  It was the second worst thing that has ever happened to her. 

  The absolute worst thing that happened to her happened between 2011 and 2012. One thing led to another and it resulted into Loki trying to end her own life by letting go and falling into the void. And honestly, she would have been better off dead.   She ended up in Thanos’ hands, and he and the Other tortured her for a year, trying to mold her into the perfect weapon to attack Midgard, the place she once dared call her home, so they could eventually get a hold of the infinity stones. Not that Loki knew the true purpose of it.    All she could remember for a long while was searing pain. 

  Eventually, Loki was told how to use the tesseract and she was assigned a whole army. She was given a scepter, containing the mindstone, to mindcontrol others into helping her achieve  (their)  her goal. But what she didn’t know was that the scepter also influenced HER. Not as much mindcontrol as heightening all her negative emotions.

  It’s the first time Loki’s back on Midgard ever since Steve died. The tesseract teleports her right into a  S.H.I.E.L.D  facility. She looks terrible. She has a limp, dark circles around her eyes, and she looks even paler than she already did. Her hair is a mess, too. It’s not just that, either. She’s also sporting the most chilling grin she could possibly muster as she watches a couple of agents give her disturbed looks and scramble to get their guns from their holsters  --  not that she gives them a chance. She shoots them with the scepter far before their hands even make it to their guns. 

[theawkwardterrier]

The Shops on Shield Street

Steggy Week 2k20, day 4 Prompt: AUs and crossover

Summary: Running a small business is already hard enough without someone trying to sabotage things.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents​ for organizing!

The first time Peggy visits Steve’s shop is the day he opens.

Working just down the street, she’s spent the past few months watching the renovations at what had been most recently been a short-lived scented candle business. When the new signs and awnings had gone up naming it as Shield Street Books, she’d been further intrigued; she’s seen various stores come and go through the space, but a bookshop is new. Now, on her lunch break, she takes the opportunity to go visit.

She looks over the front windows first: the right-hand side is filled with buzzy new releases and bestsellers for adults, the left with books for younger readers. The windows themselves are painted with a colorful but subtle border of books on the right, while the left side features lovely illustrations of Wild Things marauding across the bottom, a mockingjay pin hidden along the side, a Little Prince floating among the stars at the top, and a web reading “Some Pig” in the corner. The chalk sign reads “Grand opening” on one side and “Ask us about our events!” on the other.

Peggy is cautiously optimistic as she steps in, a cheerful little bell jingling as she does. The space isn’t cavernous but it’s large enough, and the high ceilings, big front windows, light wood flooring and shelves, and friendly gray-green walls make it seem more open. The checkout is easily visible, a chalkboard wall above it featuring a listing of upcoming book club meetings, a coffee and cookies social series, and a reading by a local poet (Peggy supposes that you have to be a bit more established to start getting better-known names).

The front area has all the typical souvenirs everyone around here sells - magnets, mugs, pens, postcards - along with fancier or more specifically bookish things like scarves, tote bags, and book weights which seem to be attracting some good attention. A few people are looking at the cookbooks and coffee table books lining the walls and stacked on tables nearby, and she can see browsers in the labeled aisles spanning out into the main area of the store: mystery, biography and memoir, young adult, politics, each with an appropriate, particularly-styled illustration. A sign pointing downstairs advertises a used book area, as well as a gallery and event space. She breathes in the scent of fresh wood and words on paper, officially impressed.

She is examining a table just before the aisles which is covered with a display of staff favorites when a voice behind her says, “I love that one.”

Turning with the copy of My Favorite Thing Is Monsters still in hand, she encounters the man who until now she’s only seen at a distance, occasionally ducking in and out of the store while it was under construction. He’s tall and blond, with broad shoulders beneath his heather gray T-shirt, plain except for a small, oddly-rendered sketch of a pale turquoise bird in side profile and showing one large eye. She tries not to let on how distracted she is by the hint of a darkly-inked tattoo peeking out from the bottom of his sleeve; his blue eyes are watching her clearly from behind a pair of thick-framed glasses.

“I’m sorry?” she asks politely, trying not to let on that she’s slightly lost the thread of how things started.

“That’s a great book. I love it,” he offers, shrugging awkward shoulders although his smile is still lovely and genuine. “Although it’s not too surprising seeing as I’m most of the staff here, so the table’s pretty much stacked with books I love.”

“You must be the new owner then,” Peggy says, putting out a hand. “Congratulations. I’m Peggy Carter. I run Top Shelf Tea and Coffee up the street.”

“Steve Rogers, good to meet you." He shakes with her, then gestures to the book she’s still holding in her other hand. “Are you browsing for yourself, or just over here to check out the new neighbors?”

“I think I can do both quite handily,” she says, smiling back at him. “Though I don’t typically read graphic novels. Perhaps you can recommend something else?”

Nothing precisely shifts about his posture, but she suddenly has the sense that he’s more settled on his heels, focused even more intently on her. “What do you typically read?”

“Very little, of late,” she admits, making a bit of a face. “I used to read quite a bit of mystery - Gothic, classics, noir, Agatha Christie, Tana French, and my favorites were those where you get suspense and a good story but a good sentence too. But with everything on my plate, I’m lucky if I can get through a half chapter before I go to sleep.”

“Sure.” He crosses his arms, which does nice things for his muscles, as well as showing off an extra sneaking bit of his tattoo. Watching him think, she has the sudden feeling that she’s in very good hands. And, when he rings up a collection of P.D. James short stories and one originally published in Swedish called An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good (“With your schedule, it might be easier to enjoy a little section over a night or two rather than trying to force yourself to make it through a hefty novel”) along with a copy of Dorothy B. Hughes’s In a Lonely Place that he’d tracked down in the used book section (“It’s not long, and it’s dark, smart, psychological noir”) it seems she’s right.

Peggy is not behind the counter when Steve shows up at her shop the next day, but she comes out from the back when she recognizes his voice ordering the house blend coffee.

“I had expected you to have more of an opinion than that,” she teases as she walks through from the kitchen with a tray of fresh scones to load into the display case and finds him waiting to pick up his drink. He’s come in past the commuter crush and before the lunch rush, but even with Peggy’s staff working quickly and efficiently as usual there’s enough of a wait to guarantee a moment to chat. “I certainly anticipated your drink of choice would be something with minimal fuss, but I would have guessed at something with a bit more imagination at least.”

He laughs. “I’m just trying to get the lay of the land here, and the house blend is how I know what kind of joint you’re running here.” Rose places a cup labeled “Steve!” on the counter, smiling at him before she twirls away again. He picks it up, takes in the steam rising through the lid, smiling as he does. “It smells good. But when you name your place ‘Top Shelf,’ you have some pretty high expectations to meet,” he warns, smile still flickering around his mouth.

“Don’t worry.” She leans over the counter toward him. “The expectations are exactly where I want them.”

His eyes widen after the first sip and he takes a second before he’s even swallowed. “You were right. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I know,” she says plainly. “And my true expertise is with the tea. Try the Irish blend next time you’re here, or a cinnamon rooibos latte if you’re feeling adventurous.”

His eyes smile over the top of the cup and he takes another sip. “I guess I’ll have to keep coming back with so much to try.”

“I suppose you will,” she says, trying to sound friendly but casual when she adds, “And I’ve finished two of the stories in the P.D. James, so I might have to come back for more recommendations soon.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he tells her. This time, even with the clamor of people waiting behind him or skirting huffily around to pick up drinks, he isn’t smiling, he’s grinning.

By the time Steve drops in one afternoon eight months later, he is a very familiar sight. Daniel wraps one of the enormous seasonal apple-cinnamon muffins as soon as he walks through the door then waits for him to order a drink - the staff knows that while Steve certainly has favorites on the drinks menu, he changes between them often enough to keep things interesting. (He always orders a muffin, though: apple-cinnamon in autumn, blueberry the rest of the year.)

Usually they don’t have time for lengthy chats during the day considering the crowds at Top Shelf and the customers and part-timers waiting for Steve to return over at Shield Street, but today when Peggy comes out to say a brief hello, she finds Steve sitting at one of the tables. The small tilt of his head as their eyes meet is enough for her to slide the proposal she’s reading about switching dairy providers into her pocket and walk over to sit with him. The little two-seater he’s picked is away from the large front windows, and she seats herself in the comfortable leather armchair across from him with a feeling of relative privacy.

“Is something wrong?” she asks. Steve’s doing well enough as far as she knows: Shield Street seems often to buzz with foot traffic and they’ve been promoting their online store, there is a solid slate of events and programs including the coffee and cookies socials for which he sources the refreshments from Top Shelf, there was a lovely recent write-up in the local paper, and he’s even been able to hire a full time employee other than himself. Still, she knows entirely too well that the life of a small business owner can be somewhat exacting and stressful. Small mistakes in ordering stock or taking on a bit too much can be enormously costly, and even when you’ve done everything correctly, factors outside your control can conspire against you without much of anything to serve as protection. Steve’s tense expression mirrors the way she sometimes felt in the first few years after she’d opened - and still does today, if she’s being honest.

He sips his tea slowly, and she can tell it’s not because he’s finally remembering her advice about allowing the flavors to settle.

“There was a guy in at the store this afternoon,” he says finally. “Stuck around a long time, looked in every corner, and then didn’t buy anything. But I overheard him on the phone when I was coming over here.” He looks up at her, eyes somewhere between hard and stricken. “Peggy, I think he’s from Hydra.”

The common wisdom is that the largest threat to small businesses are superstores and online giants, the franchises of the world which can spring up on every corner or be available at a moment’s notice, backed by large pools of money that leave them free to take risks and undercut other vendors, offering brand recognition to customers across large areas without being tied by communal or ethical bonds to any of the places they land.

Hydra, a business conglomerate few had actually heard of, took the pushback against big chains and used that for its own ends. Rather than focusing on any single industry, or even establishing Hydra brand all-in-one stores, their model was to sweep in to buy various local businesses and keep their original names, or to establish seemingly innocuous storefronts without any stated connection to Hydra. But while people thought they were shopping locally and supporting their own neighbors, helping to maintain healthy competition and a diversity of business, mass-produced goods would slowly replace the higher quality ones, workplace regulations would be flouted while employees were scared into silence by the power of the corporate owners, and money would flow out of communities and into Hydra’s distant and ever-deepening pockets. Steve and Peggy kept their finger on the pulse of the small business world, and they had read stories online, often later hastily retracted or swiftly vanished, stories of small towns and cities across the country where, within a few years, whole streets full of businesses that seemed to be independently-run and community-owned were actually just cheery facades under one corporate umbrella.

And now Hydra was here. Peggy thought about the shops between her business and Steve’s: the florist, the hardware store, the brewpub, the rare family-owned pharmacy, the ice cream parlor which is part of a beloved local chain, the independent movie theater, the places on other streets in their town which sold toys and art supplies and comics and shoes.

Behind her, the door opens. A squat, balding man enters, grandfatherly dapper with a suit, a bow tie, round glasses, all undercut by the coldness in his gaze. He looks around at what Peggy has built - the scattered tables and cozily diverse seating options from armchairs to stools to window seats, the carefully hung plants, the racks of magazines and stacks of available books which Steve has selected for her, the displays of art by students from the nearby universities, her talented staff, and of course her carefully curated menu - and writes something brief in a small notebook. He steps up to the counter to order.

“That’s him,” she says to Steve, barely a question. “That’s who you saw.” He nods, looking down into his mug, fingers tight around the solid pottery. Peggy remembers picking out these cups, sorting through dozens of listings until she found the exact ones she wanted: an entire range of colors, big enough for a good serving size and for wrapping hands around, but not awkward to sip at.

“If it is them,” she says, knuckles clenching beneath the table, “we won’t let them win.”

Steve looks up at her; the smile on his face is wan, not up to the usual brightness she looks forward to, but it’s the first one she’s seen at all from him today. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The man approaches Steve first, introducing himself as Arnim Zola. He’s done his homework, knows about the finances of the shop and about Steve’s personal finances as well, from the loans he’s taken out to the fact that his mother had barely anything to leave him when she died.

“You’re a smart businessman, Mr. Rogers, I have seen that quite well. Though you might have good growth now, who knows what tomorrow might bring? Selling now and taking the money which comes with the offer, that is the smart business decision.”

And Steve, for whom courtesy is not second nature but first, has trouble turning him down with a “no thank you,” rather than a “piss off.”

Zola seems to hear it anyway, but he overcomes the spasm of anger with a smile. “I will be happy to speak to you later, if anything happens to change your mind. As I said, there is quite a lot of unreliability in business ownership.”

A pipe bursts in the back of the store that night, even though they’d all been replaced as part of the renovation. A good chunk of inventory gets soaked. Peggy walks past the next morning to find Steve putting the less damaged material out on a rack to sell at a steep discount. He tells her what happened with barely concealed fury in his throat. They hadn’t heard about Hydra deliberately driving owners to sell, but neither of them is exactly surprised.

Peggy goes to work for the next few days with her head full of rage and incipient plans. When Zola comes to request a meeting and make his case later in the week, she turns him down so sweetly that it takes a minute for him to understand that it had even happened.

She’s never had Steve over to her little flat above Stewart’s Sandwich Spot, but after a few days of working across the empty tables of Top Shelf or cramming into Steve’s office after they’ve locked up for the night, she invites him to join her.

“I had concerns about pests and odors when I first came,” she says as they climb the narrow back stairs single-file, “but I’ll have lived here five years this January and haven’t had a problem with either. In fact, waking up to the scent of their fresh bread every day is quite the bonus.”

“Plus you can pick up dinner on your way in.” Steve’s voice behind her is teasing, though accurate, as he’s currently holding the bag with the food they’d bought three minutes ago: a Tipsy Texan for her and his Peter Paul Ruben along with several orders of the fries which Peggy promises are outstanding.

She’s right. The agreed-upon brief break for sandwiches spirals into experimentation as to which of the various dipping options is the best for the french fries, then into conversation about places they’ve traveled and the best foods they ate there. Peggy backpacked a bit after university, and still tries to take a bit of vacation when she can. Steve, she finds out for the first time, was in the army and was deployed several times.

“The guys I went over with, we all came home,” he says quietly. They’ve gotten into the wine at this point. “We all got these together.” He stretches down the collar of his shirt enough for her to see some very nice muscles as well as a tattoo: concentric red and white circles with a blue center marked by a star. The outermost circle reads “107th Regiment.”

“What is the one on your arm?” she asks before she can stop herself. He chuckles and lifts his sleeve where she can now see the words clearly inked in black around his bicep: “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,” ended by an ellipses trailing from black to gray to white.

“My mom used to read Tolkien out loud at bedtime,” he explains. “And I still think about the way that one sentence opened up a whole world, a whole life, for me.”

She pours a touch more into her glass, shifting her feet up onto the sofa beside herself. “You’ve always loved reading, then?”

“Yeah. Back when I was growing up, if I wasn’t really sick, I was just getting through being sick or getting started being sick again. All that time in bed, I needed a lot to read; I was always going through the big stack of books next to my bed, or listening to some audiobook on my old Discman. When I was doing okay, I used to go talk to the librarians, and I was around so much that eventually I started volunteering there.”

He chews through one of the last remaining fries, cold now. “When I got discharged, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself. All I could think of was how good books made me feel, how important they were for me, how I could help put them in the hands of others. And then one day I was walking by, saw the For Sale sign on the space, noticed that the street sign said Shield, and just knew.” He shrugs. “There are small business loans aimed at vets, and my friend Bucky went into construction after we came back, helped me put the place together the way I wanted it.”

“And all that starting with one little hobbit,” she says with a smile. She pushes her hair back, feeling flushed and a bit young.

He leans against the back of the couch. “How about you? What made you decide to open Top Shelf?”

“Spite,” she answers promptly, making him laugh. “It’s entirely true. I wish I could tell you some sweet story about my grandmother bringing me to a tea shop every Saturday back when I was a girl, but I wouldn’t lie to you. The fact of it is that my mother accepted my coming to university in the States, but as I was finishing my degree, she became quite adamant about my doing graduate work to enter into law or finance. I had little interest in either, and didn’t want simply to put in the investment because she was forcing me.

“At the same time, I had a part-time job at a coffee shop where the owner was the worst sort of boss: constantly critical without any actual suggestions for improvement or true understanding of daily operations, unwilling to make necessary changes or updates, over- and under-scheduling the staff at a whim. Finally I told him that in one day I could have the place running better than he ever could, at which point he started fuming that doing his job was harder than I could imagine, and fired me. By that evening, when my mother called once more to have a ‘little chat about my future,’ I told her that I had started a business plan and would be opening a tea and coffee shop as soon as possible.”

“How did she take it?” His voice is softer. Somehow they’ve moved closer together on the sofa. With his arm draped along the back, his fingertips graze the gauzy sleeve of her blouse.

“She shouted at me, hung up, and refused to speak to me for several days, but that just gave me time to become more confident and knowledgeable by the time she called next.”

“And you succeeded.”

“I did.” She stops herself from leaning into him the way that she wants to. She might get a bright rush hearing his voice at the counter during the day, might drop by his shop for a new book even while she already has several still waiting at home, might relish this extra time to discover the thoughtful, generous, opinionated details of him of which she’s seen captivating hints over the past months, but they have a purpose here. She clears her throat, steadies herself. “I succeeded, and I mean to keep what I’ve made.”

It’s after midnight when Steve finally goes home. She tries to tell herself that it’s a shame that they didn’t really have a chance to work on their strategy, but when it means that they come back to her house the next night, and go to his the night after, she can’t be truly upset.

As a business owner and a town resident of over half a decade, Peggy has been to a council meeting or two in her time. But she prepares for tonight with special attention, leaving the shop early enough to take a longer than usual shower. She chooses a recently purchased top - navy with silver and pale blue detailing, a flattering silhouette, and a modest V-neck - and adds makeup with more than her usual care. She finishes with her usual scarlet lip and, taking in the finished product, nods firmly, picks up her bag, and goes to meet Steve.

He arrives at nearly the same time, and they take seats together in the center of the town hall meeting room.

“A good turnout,” Peggy says quietly, glancing around. “And look who’s here as well.”

Zola sits in the back of the room, quietly taking things in. She suspects that keeping abreast of town news is a part of his job. Hopefully he will be earning his salary tonight.

Most of the agenda is spent on the typical dull dealings: a proposal to change the language on parking citations is taken up and passed, followed by a bit of a tussle over the budget, then it’s on to a rousing discussion about recent changes to state alcohol legislation and the impact on local restaurants. At least the recognition ceremony for two teenagers who rescued a man drowning in the nearby lake is touching and breaks the monotony.

“And finally,” Chester Phillips, the head of the council, grumbles. He’s clearly very much past ready to adjourn. “We have an item put forward by Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers. An item very recently put forward,” he adds, shooting a glance at Peggy. The official deadline for getting onto the agenda is 24 hours in advance, but Peggy knows that the secretary, Miriam Fry, usually prints and posts things a bit early. While their proposal came in just under the deadline, the agenda had already been publicized; Peggy wanted as much of an element of surprise as she could muster to avoid sabotage.

“Good evening.” Peggy starts them off. “As many of you know, I own Top Shelf Tea and Coffee on Shield Street. I’ve been so pleased by the welcome the town has given to myself and my shop over the past several years, and I wanted to come forward tonight to raise awareness of something which has been recently affecting our local business community.”

She knows her points well after running through them with Steve for the last few nights. Without referencing notes, she smoothly and carefully explains Hydra’s background and the way their business model has caused trouble for other communities. The articles she references, entered conscientiously into the record, might be smaller pieces, but they are from reputable and reliable news outlets; Bruce Banner, the reference librarian, had helped them put together the resources with that in mind.

“Mr. Rogers and myself have received offers to purchase our businesses. We would also request that that council hear from others who have also been under recent pressure to sell.” Peggy gestures over her shoulder, where a good-sized part of the assembled crowd is standing, ready to come forward.

“Before we get to that, is there an actual proposal attached to all of this?” Alexander Pierce asks. He’s a popular, long-serving council member, distinguished and seemingly considerate, but there’s a strange hint of ice in his voice, in the blue-gray of his eyes, that makes Peggy suspect who exactly put the town on Hydra’s radar and why they seemed so certain that they would be able to work with impunity.

“Our proposal is a council resolution simply acknowledging the remarks made here today,” Steve says, the words not loud but quite firm. “It isn’t the council’s responsibility or within their authority to prevent private sales between willing parties, but we want to make certain that everyone in this town knows the coercive measures Hydra has taken in the past and will almost certainly take in the future in order to gain and maintain control of local businesses.”

He takes a breath, pushing up his glasses reflexively before he speaks. “I opened my store more recently than Ms. Carter did hers, but I’ve also felt lucky to have been able to support and be supported by this community over the past months. Moving here and opening my business has given me something I never thought I would find.” His gaze moves, for just a moment, from the council in front of them, to Peggy, who is watching from beside him. Their eyes meet so quickly she nearly wonders whether it even happened before he turns back to conclude, “I have no intention of giving up my business. And we want everyone to know that we are willing to continue fighting for however long we have to.”

“Now I—” Pierce started, but Nick Fury, a council member who rarely speaks and who Peggy knows always gets his coffee first thing in the morning to avoid running into anyone trying to discuss council issues, leans forward so his microphone picks up his words clearly.

“I’d actually like to hear from our fellow citizens, Alex,” he says, and nods for the first speaker to go ahead.

The comments last for a long while. Some people speak only briefly about being approached by Zola or other Hydra representatives, bombarded with testimonials from business owners from other towns who sold to Hydra in the past. Others have lengthy (and well documented, Peggy made sure of that) stories of escalating problems and harassment: health or building code inspectors being called and finding minor or suddenly appearing violations, delayed shipments from previously reliable vendors, spontaneous problems with heating or cooling systems.

Someone from the local paper always covers council meetings, and she’s sitting in the front row scribbling away for what will undoubtedly be a far different article than usual. But news travels fast, and as the hours march onward, more and more of their fellow townspeople squeeze into the meeting room to hear things for themselves.

Steve and Peggy expected it, but as the last of the business owners moves aside, they trade a glance seeing Arnim Zola step up to the podium.

“In my capacity as a representative of Hydra, I would like to officially demand that minutes and records of this meeting be restricted pending a defamation lawsuit which the corporation will be bringing,” he says, eyes flashing behind his glasses. The words are so practiced that Peggy feels her suspicions about the fight against Hydra in other places nearly confirmed.

“Those are a matter of public record,” Mrs. Fry says sternly. Peggy smiles. They don’t always see eye to eye, but she knew that Miriam could be relied upon to protect the integrity of the process.

Fury adds laconically, “And it will be a little difficult to put the genie back in the bottle.” He looks over everyone’s heads to the back of the room, and raises his voice to ask, “Live stream still running smoothly, Stark?”

Tony Stark, the teenaged son of the municipal head of IT, barely looks up from his phone as he gives a thumbs up. “Directly on the town website, YouTube, and Twitter, plus a few backup sites I’ve set up just in case. And I’ve been live-tweeting the whole time. First council meeting that’s ever been even close to interesting enough for me to even want to do that.” He leans back in his chair, feet up on the table and fingers typing rapidly.

The calculation is clear across Zola’s face. Leaning into the aisle so he can hear her, Peggy says quietly, “If you still manage to convince someone to sell, there’s little we can do to stop you. But you can see the town turning against the idea of you, and any of the usual tricks you try to pull will only make it worse. I doubt you’d ever be able to make a success of things here. I would cut your losses now, Mr. Zola. Everyone knows who and what you are. You can’t hide in the shadows anymore.”

Zola leaves before the resolution passes. Although they keep an eye out for him over the next weeks, they don’t see a sign of him again.

They have the other business owners over for a drink down in the event space at Steve’s shop. It was already late when the meeting finally adjourned, and it is even later once the last person - Thor, who owns the Norseman brewpub and is still laughing heartily at a story told by Luis from the electronics repair store - closes the door behind him.

“I wanted to tell Sam to take the morning off,” Steve says as they tidy things up, “but I have the feeling we’ll be even busier than usual tomorrow.”

Peggy smiles, collecting the empty bottles in a paper bag for recycling. “I think he’ll forgive you when he sees it reflected in his paycheck.”

Steve glances over the used book shelves, making sure they’re all orderly, switching a few around to keep things alphabetized. “If this keeps up, maybe I can have Nat and Wanda full time soon.” With one last glance at the shelf, he goes over and drops tiredly into one of the chairs that they have yet to fold and put away. There are plenty of other places to sit, but Peggy comes and turns a chair so she’s facing him. Their knees are nearly touching.

“I hadn’t realized quite how tense I was until the weight was removed tonight,” she says softly, just for him. “And while I know that we should stay alert and that complacency works against us, it will be such a delight to go into the shop tomorrow without feeling as if ruin was coming up on the horizon.”

“You deserve that,” Steve says, and somewhere over their work together, they’ve become comfortable enough that he already has her hand in his and she didn’t even notice until just now. “And even if they regroup fast, we’ll have a day or two to catch our breath before we start putting out resources for other communities dealing with Hydra.”

That familiar determination is back in his voice, and she realizes that so much of him is familiar now. She knows that his glasses are the last hint of the poor health which plagued him growing up, has seen pictures of his mother and recognizes where he inherited his fair hair and strong features. She has seen his tattoos and knows what he wanted to memorialize on his skin.

Looking him over, she sees that sometime after the meeting he has changed into a T-shirt that she recognizes.

“That was what you were wearing the day we met,” she says. “What made you choose it for your opening?”

He glances down. “It’s the Pigeon, from the Mo Willems series. Popular picture books, ” he explains. “I know that I can be a little intimidating for the kids, and I wanted something that would be familiar and friendly, something we could talk about together so they could get to know me and wouldn’t be as nervous.”

It’s such a simple answer, so unsurprising and considerate and right, so Steve. She frees her fingers from his so she can hold his face in her hands.

“You’re a very dear man,” she informs him, and presses her mouth to his.

Quite a while later, as Steve finally turns the lights off in his shop, finally put to rights, he asks, “Are you free again tomorrow night? I’d like to take you out somewhere that doesn’t serve sandwiches.”

“I won’t mention it at Stewart’s.” She tucks herself under his arm as they step into the cool of the street and he turns to lock up.

He laughs. “They don’t have to worry much. I’m sure we’ll be back.”

“I’m certain we will, though perhaps Thai for tomorrow,” she says thoughtfully as they walk. “But come to the shop sometime earlier, will you?” A grin is growing on her face. “I have some ideas I want to discuss about unseating Mr. Pierce at the next election that I’m not sure are proper date conversation.”

“My definition of date conversation is whatever you want to talk about,” he says, his voice never anything but honest. “But sure, I’ll come by tomorrow. I can’t get through the day without your latest matcha concoction, and I want to hear what you have planned for Pierce.” His grin is growing to match hers. “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t bet against us.”

[versatilewindow]

A Night in ‘Las Vegas’ (its actually Daphne’s mansion)

Find it on Ao3!

Summary:Party at Daphne's, Velma experiences requited gay panic. Written for @scrubyjay<3

A/N: if u asked me a week ago what id be writing, scooby doo lesbian fanfic definitely wouldn't have been anywhere near my mind. im kinda surprised i even had this much to say about them.

In the past few years, the Mystery Gang had made a habit of meeting up before a new semester of college started to relax and hang out before their studies took over their lives. Daphne was hosting at her childhood home (as she called it, though most would consider the estate a real true mansion) as usual, (Her parents were off on their yearly honeymoon or what Daphne would call their regularly scheduled time for absolute debauchery among other acts that are certainly in a legal grey area.) and she had full reign of the staff and tonight's event. This semester’s theme was “A Night in Las Vegas”, meaning the gang would be dressed in their best cocktail outfits, and that there were actual slot machines and gambling tables, complete with dealers using rigged card decks to make sure no one would threaten the casino’s nightly earnings, not that they were actually gambling it’s all for realism.

This was the week before most the gang’s final semester, most as in Shaggy decided that he’d rather learn some cooking skills on the job rather than some pompous 75 year old teacher at the nearest cooking school, not realizing he would instead have to deal with an egotistical 40 year old going through what was surely the world’s worst case of mid-life crisis. The rest of the gang was spread around the country, Fred was at the local state college on a football scholarship, studying business and was the VP of the school’s biggest fraternity. Daphne was studying investigative journalism at Colombia, if asked she went to school in New York, and she was in fact related to the Blakes financially backing the new Blake scholarship for students studying journalism. Velma was at Stanford double majoring in Criminal Psychology and Forensic Science, and was set to continue her studies in a Phd program at Harvard. 

Out of all the gang, Velma was the most excited for the night, she rarely got to see the others because of the physical distance between them. She walked up the marble steps outside the front doors of the Blake estate, duffel bag in tow, (they always ended up absolutely sloshed at the end of these dinners, opting to stay in one of the many guest rooms with plush king sized beds rather than waiting for a taxi) and pressed the buzzer which linked to a pager on the butler’s uniform. It was only a few moments before Jenkins opened the heavy oak doors.

“Ah, Miss Dinkley, glad to see you’ve made it here safely, would you like someone to take your bag to your room?”

“No, thank you Jenkins, Daphne wanted to get ready together and I have some things I’ll need in the bag. Is she in her room?”

“Yes, allow me to escort you there.” With that Jenkins turned into the Foyer, walking under the first of many grand chandeliers, and up the grand blush pink marble stairs towards Daphne’s suite. Before she knew it they were in front of the door to the bedroom.

Jenkins knocked on the pale door, “Miss Blake, Miss Dinkley has arrived.”

“Oh Yes! Send her in please! The door’s unlocked!” A light rustling was heard behind the door as Jenkins opened the door for Velma, revealing Daphne moving towards her vanity in a silk lavender robe that ended mid thigh. “Velma! I’m so happy you could come early!” The taller woman changed her course towards the shorter one, who seemed almost frozen in the doorway. “Come on in! Thank you Jenkins, let me know when the boys have arrived.” Jenkins responded with a light bow before swiftly turning away, no doubt to continue the prep for tonight's event. 

Velma walked in the room, closing the door behind her, and setting her bag down on the loveseat in front of the room’s TV. “I’m glad I could make it too, I wasn’t sure if I would’ve been able to trade shifts with someone at the bookstore, but Sarah S., remember her from high school? She was trying to avoid a family event that was going on earlier today, her aunts are always setting her up on dates and she didn’t want to deal with that again. So it all worked out!” 

Daphne smiled at Velma, “Oh Sarah’s wonderful, I almost forgot she worked at the bookstore too during the breaks. There’s a robe for you in the bathroom to change into before we do our manicures.” Velma turned into the attached bathroom, quickly changing into the orange silk robe she usually used while at Daphne’s, the light geometric patterns reminding her of all the sleepovers the two shared in high school. Stepping out of the bathroom, Velma saw that Daphne had already set up the station to paint their nails. “So what’s tonight’s color scheme for you? I’m going with glittery hot pink.” Daphne had started with the base coat already.

“I brought an orange leather skirt, and I was thinking of a black top, but the options I brought don’t really fit with the cocktail dress code for tonight.” Velma sat down across from her friend in a dark luxurious chair, fiddling with the collection of polishes in front of her. 

Daphne grabbed a mid-tone orange from the selection, “Don’t worry about your top, you know I have a lot to choose from.” The smile on her face was audible, and she continued, “If it’s the leather skirt I’m thinking of, it would pair great with this sheer, flowy turtleneck I have.” Daphne’s delicate hands grabbed Velma’s, and with skillful light touches started applying the polish. The two took turns with the materials, falling into a comfortable silence finishing the task quickly.

“It’s make-up and hair next, right? I have some things in my bag.” Deeming her nails dry enough, Velma stood and made her way over to the aforementioned bag, pulling out a travel toiletries bag that had her small selection of make-up. It’s not that she was against make-up in any way, it was really more for special events than the day to day, also her college-student budget meant some luxuries were limited, and make-up was on that list. Adjusting her glasses, Velma turned to where Daphne was standing next to the vanity chair, she had a slight pout on her face, the one she used to get what she wanted from anyone.

“Can I please do your make-up? You know I love to do it and you love the outcome every time.” The pout stayed on her face.

“I suppose I could let you do my makeup Daph, seeing as you’re asking so kindly.” Daphne let out a light giggle at the fake sass in Velma's statement. (They both knew that Velma would never say no to Daphne, with or without the pout, not that Velma would ever admit it.) Velma sat down, leaning against the back of the chair, removing her glasses and setting them down on the vanity to allow Daphne full vision of her canvas.

Feathery touches moved across Velma’s face, applying the primer on to soft moisturized skin. “Are you wearing contacts tonight?”

“I brought them, but I’m not sure I’ll remember to take them off before sleeping tonight.”

Daphne continued with the base make-up. “Don’t wear them, you look cute with your glasses.”

A light blush covered the tips of Velma’s cheeks and nose, it certainly wasn’t her first time hearing that phrase, but something about hearing it from Daph’s rosy lips made it different. 

Working swiftly, Daphne made her way to the eyes, she grabbed Velma’s eyeliner, leaning in close to work on the wing. The controlled, concentrated breaths tickled the lightly covered freckles on Velma’s face, the flush from before continuing on strong through the powder pink blush Daphne already placed on the high point’s of her cheek bones. Daphne leaned away from her to examine the work done, hands lingering behind on Velma’s face, a satisfied smile appearing when she decided the two sides were even. “We’ll do lips after we change, you good on your own for hair?” Velma nodded while putting her frames back on to inspect the work Daphne had done on her face. It was simple, what she liked best, but it was better than anything Velma could do on her own. Daphne had perfected her technique in blending and choosing colors, if she didn’t know the other for years, Velma would’ve expected Daphne to enroll in a fashion and design school. 

The two made quick work of the rest of their prep work, gossiping about the town’s latest scandals. (The Adam’s were being investigated for tax fraud, and the Miller’s were going through a particularly nasty divorce.) Velma straightened out her hair, smoothing it from the usual halo of frizz, stealing glances at Daphne while she did her own make-up and hair. Their gazes met each other once, staring deep into the other’s dark eyes for a beat before looking away as though nothing happened. 

The evening drew to a close, night just beginning to settle in, the others would be here soon. Their attention was now drawn to the expansive walk-in closet in the room. Daphne pulled out the sheer turtleneck mentioned before for Velma, it had shiny glittery threads spread throughout, perfect for tonight’s event, and a hot pink sequined mini dress. They both changed in front of each other, as they had many times before, but something in the air was different, there was an unspoken tension between the two of them growing from the lingering touches and frequent glances from earlier. Velma looked up from her skirt’s zipper to see Daphne’s bare back in front of her, dress unzipped. She said a light ‘I got it’ before pulling the hidden zipper up the pale back, the dress tightly hugging the curve of the toned body before her. 

The tension dissipated as they walked over to the rack of shoes covering a wall of the closet, Daphne thinking out loud, wondering if she should go with boots or a strappy pump. She grabbed a chunky platform heel for Velma, one she often borrowed, before deciding on black suede thigh high boots. Daphne’s pink phone pinged, a text from the boys, they were five minutes away. As she pulled the boots over her long legs, Daphne saw Velma staring at her thighs, pinked nose, where skin met suede, and blushed herself, not mentioning that she’d caught the other. 

Shrugging this off, Daphne stood and walked out of the closet, to the door of her room, waiting for Velma. As the shorter walked to the doorway, fingertips touched the small of her back guiding her through. The two walked to the main room on the ground floor where it had been transformed to feel like a real casino, the lights were dimmed, 5 slot machines took up a wall, a dealer’s table next to the grand fireplace, tall, small tables with tea lights and stools took up the center floor, and two servants stood at the edge, one with a tray of hors d'oeuvres and the other a tray of champagne. Meeting the ladies at the bottom were their friends, and Jenkin’s informing them that dinner would be served within the hour. The boys cleaned up well, Shaggy’s usual mop of hair gelled back, with burgundy suspenders against a white button up holding up light green slacks. Fred opted for a more classic black and white suit, with a sapphire blue tie to add his own flair. Even Scooby looked prepped for a red carpet, his nails cut, a light almond scent from soap rather than his usual distinct dog smell. 

The forty or so minutes before dinner was served went smoothly, Shaggy, Scooby, and Daphne spent their time catching up at the slot machine; Fred and Velma playing black jack while laughing about funny stories from the past semester. The waiters did their jobs, handing out each person’s favorite snack before the meal, or snacks in Shaggy and Scoob’s case, leaving no glass unfilled, although they insisted they all have at least a glass of plain water for every couple of refills. 

Once it was time for the meal, the servants put their trays down to push the tables together, so the group could enjoy the dishes together. Daphne pulled her stool next to Velma’s brushing her hand against the smooth skin of the other’s thigh, and noticed how the seated girl’s relaxed, slightly tipsy posture tensed at the quick touch. The dinner continued with similar interactions, a tap of one’s foot against the other, a brush of knees under the table, dabbing away sauce at the edge of the other’s lips. If the boys had noticed these seemingly innocent interactions, they either didn’t care about the clear subtext, or were too drunk to even notice the tension growing with each lingering touch.

After they had finished eating, the ladies continued with their behavior at the table even though the others moved to the dealer’s table for poker. With a well placed hand on the other girl’s thigh, Velma took things a step further and gave a light squeeze, causing Daphne to get out her stool, pulling the other by the wrist to the nearest bathroom, offhandedly mentioning their destination to the hired boy bringing out chicken nuggets for Shaggy. 

In the bathroom, Velma locked the door behind them as the taller girl pulled her onto the granite countertop in a rushed passionate kiss. Contrary to popular belief, Velma was no stranger to Saturday night party bathroom hook-ups, but she was in her childhood best friend’s home having a bathroom hook-up, with her childhood best friend no less. The flutter in her stomach that was growing during dinner, turned into heat and a blazing fire at her core as Daphne’s supple pink lips trailed down the side of the other neck, lightly biting where the top of the turtleneck ended. A quick hand undid the button at the top of the sheer shirt, allowing Daphne more places to nip and kiss. Velma’s hands pulled the other closer as a soft moan left her lips, making Daphne continue the attack at her neck with more vigor. With a light squeeze on her butt, the orange haired girl looked up from the other’s neck with half lidded eyes before asking, “do you,” a kiss on the cheek, “want to take this” a kiss on the other, “to my room?” a kiss on the nose, “I have some things there that could make this even better” a kiss on the lips. At this, Velma hopped off the counter, straightening out her disheveled clothes as best she could before unlocking the door and rushing towards the stairs, Daphne close behind with a large grin on her face. The only thing that pulled them away from their mission of making it to the room was a quick stop telling the boys they were turning in for the night.

The next morning, Daphne figured it was a good thing her parents insisted the boy’s sleep on the other side of the house.

Bonus: after the ladies mentioned they were off to bed

Shaggy turned to Fred, he was drunk, but sober enough to notice the smeared lipstick on Daphne, or the trail of lip marks down Velma’s neck. "You're gonna have to pay up man, did you see them?"

Fred slumped down onto the table and mumbled, "Why couldn't they stick it out a few more months till after graduation, I'll have your money on Monday."

A/N: uhhhh, velma got RAILED, lets leave that as the description for the smut. I would also like to get dommed by Daphne Blake. Lmk if u liked it!

[allenwalkerbitch]

D.Gray-man characters and language

So this is by no means an original idea for a post, but I wanted to share my own headcanons for what accents/languages the DGM characters speak in because I've been thinking about it a bunch lately.  Long post imminent, so it's under the cut.

I accidentally deleted this post earlier so please give this one some love :(

I bring up details of stuff with the fourteenth once or twice, so here's a spoiler alert just in case.

Allen

Of course, we all know Allen is British, but that still leaves a lot of variety in accents.   Now as far as I'm concerned, it's pretty much canon that Allen speaks in a stereotypical "posh" received pronunciation accent most of the time.  He speaks very formally/politely in Japanese, and I feel like that's the best translation.  But! that sure as hell doesn't cover young Allen, or what he starts to slip into getting a little bit casual.  For that, I've always liked to imagine him as sounding very northern, or maybe Scottish.  At first, my only justification was that it would be a fun contrast between his two voices, but I've since realized that Campbell is a Scottish name, and since we don't know how the hell Allen was tangled up with the Campbells way back when or where they met, I'm using that as my excuse.

Also, since he spent so much time traveling around the world with Cross, I imagine that he probably knows a few key phrases in a lot of different languages, but he's only really fluent in English.  

Lenalee

Since Lenalee grew up at the European branch of the Order, she probably also speaks British English with an accent pretty close to Allen's received pronunciation, just because that tends to be what's in dictionaries/what gets taught in schools.  But, since she spends so much time around people from all different parts of the world, I imagine that there's a lot of miscellaneous words that she's learned from specific people in their accents, so her vocabulary sounds a lot more varied than Allen's.  

I don't think she'd have a Chinese accent since she was brought to the order so young, but she can still speak it decently well.  Once Komui joined her at the European branch, the two of them began to have some of their private conversations in Chinese, just for the sake of keeping up with it.  

Kanda

To be honest, I'm not really sure what Kanda would sound like.  On one hand, he grew up in the Order like Lenalee, so you could make a pretty good argument for him sounding the same as her.  

On the other hand, though, he seems to have been born knowing how to speak rather than learning slowly like a normal kid, so his accent/dialect might depend on whoever he was in his past life.  And if that were the case (assuming that his past self had a Japanese accent), would he keep it or would he lose it over time as he spent all his time around Europeans?

OR, since he has an artificially generated body, would his voice maybe also be programmed in from scratch?  And if that were the case, would it be standard received British received pronunciation like what Lenalee was taught, or would it be something else?

In other words, I have no idea what the fuck Kanda would sound like.  The only thing I can say for certain is that he speaks English and probably knows a few miscellaneous phrases in French from spending so much time with general Tiedoll.  Other than that, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Lavi

As part of his Bookman job, Lavi would have to be very good at chameleoning his speech.  There's no telling what accent he spoke in as a child in the same way that there's no telling what country he was born in or what his birth name was.  I'd bet he's fluent in about ten languages, and he knows some basics in many more than that.  He speaks however he needs to in order to blend in with whatever group he's with.  At the order, that probably means something similar to Lenalee.  Just a nondescript, textbook sort of British accent with whatever extra words and phrases he's picked up on his travels mixed in.  

Bookman would, of course, be much the same, but even more advanced in his adaptability.  He's been doing this for eighty some years.  

Miranda

Miranda is German, and you can hear it.  I imagine she learned English growing up, but she never had much reason to speak it, so she wasn't really what you could call fluent before joining the Order.  Due to this, her accent was very thick at first.  Over time, though, her vocabulary and accent both improve, and she's pretty fluent by this point, since she now has to use English for the day to day.   Still, I imagine she's relieved on the rare occasion that she can speak to Link or Marie in German like she's back home.  

Marie

Marie grew up in Austria speaking German, but he's also been with the Order for at least a decade.  He's a pretty smart guy, so he's quite fluent in English at this point, but he still has a bit of a German accent.  In a way, though, it kind of suits him.  

Krory

Given his affluent but secluded upbringing, I imagine that Krory learned to read and write in English growing up, but he never really spoke it before meeting Eliade.  As such, his accent was pretty thick for a long while, to the point of being almost incomprehensible to many people, and his speech wasn't very smooth/fluent.  However, between speaking English with Eliade and at the Order, he's gained much more confidence speaking and his accent has been reigned in quite a bit.  

In addition to English, it seems likely that he would have also learned the textbook version of another language, maybe Spanish or French.  

Timothy

Timothy speaks French, but he was taught English as part of his schooling.  He wasn't what you'd call a great student, though, so his English was pretty crummy until he was brought to the Order.  He can speak it decently well now, but he'd still much rather speak French when given the chance.  

Running with the Krory knowing a little French thread and the fact that he tends to big brother younger exorcists, I imagine that he probably goes out of his way to speak it with Timothy.  Reviewing a language that he used to study gives him something to think about besides concern for his friends, and it gives Timothy a way to feel a little more at home there.  

Chaoji

Seeing as he worked as a sailor in a big coastal city, I imagine that Chaoji was used to dealing with people from all different places.  He knew enough English to get by in simple conversation before joining the order, but he wasn't quite what you would call fluent yet.  He's been working hard on learning since joining, however, and though he still has an accent, he can keep up with just about anyone speaking nowadays.  

I'm stopping for now with just the exorcists done, but expect sequel posts to this in the future.  

[iixiplaytimeisoverixii]

👀 Do the mun and you get along? ❄ Did the mun ever forced you to do something you didn’t want to do? 🍀 What is your opinion on the layout of the blog the mun did for you?

👀 Do the mun and you get along? - “Absolutely. Sure we have our disagreements here and there but for the most part, Aya and I see eye to eye. Especially when it comes to plotting out threads and/or fan fictions. We’ve recently been working on a fic that is a blend of Yu-Gi-Oh! and another show she watches called ‘Supernatural’, but she has been so busy with work recently that we haven’t had much time to do any kind of writing. I hope that changes soon. It’s hard for me to see her so worn out.”

❄ Did the mun ever forced you to do something you didn’t want to do? - Chuckles and shakes his head. “No. Thankfully, Aya hasn’t tried to force me to do anything I haven’t wanted to do. She threatens to from time to time if I push her buttons but she never follows through with it.”

🍀 What is your opinion on the layout of the blog the mun did for you? - “With what she is able to do, I think she has done a decent job. I don’t hound her too much because she doesn’t know how to make/use all of the different blog designs that she has seen used by other mun’s on this site. I think that’s why she is considering taking a few programming/designing courses so that she can provide me and her other muses with higher quality blog layouts. I honestly think that she doesn’t need to do that, but trying to convince her otherwise is a battle I’d rather not fight.”

@archeracrosstime

[sleepingdragon-rp]

The year is 2020, and at long last, the Wizarding world has decided to catch up with the rest of the globe. For the most part, anyway. While the Wizarding world is still as safe and as secret as ever, modern advances (largely in thanks to Muggleborn witches and wizards) have allowed Wizards around the world to connect on a global scale, as well as to immerse themselves in Muggle pop culture in order to blend in better.

Some points of interest in 2020---

In addition to the Wizarding Wireless Network, the WWN launched a new radio station in 2012 called the Global Radio Alliance. The GRA plays a mixture of popular Muggle music as well as Wizarding hits.

Founded in 2017, iHowl is the first and only social media and networking company in the Wizarding world. Their iHowl devices are second to none, allowing Wizards to browse the Wizarding Wide Web with modernized Floo technology and extensive use of the Protean Charm.

Using their iHowl device, Wizards can connect globally using their favorite sites and apps, such as Hooter (Twitter), Admonitor (Facebook), Shutterbutton (Instagram), Two-Face (Facetime), Fiendfyre (Tinder), and Howler (Snapchat). Devices are disguised as notebooks, journals, diaries, agendas, etc. (Although I do not advise your character to make their iHowl into a Horcrux as rumored to be the case with certain politicians.)

(GIVE YOUR CHARACTERS A CUTE SOCIAL MEDIA HANDLE!!!!)

Tom Riddle is the lead activist of Knights of Walpurgis, an activist group intent on reserving the rights of Pureblood and Half-blood wixen in a world where Muggle culture grows more prevalent.

Albus Dumbledore = Bernie Sanders. I’m not even gonna try to dress that up in cute, hyperbolic prose.

Wear whatever tf you want!!!!!!

AU Rules & Guidelines---

Title all AU threads/headcanon/etc. using the title feature on text posts. (If you make a social media edit or something with no title option, just be sure to tag it appropriately!)

Tag all AU posts with the tag sdau: modern. That’s ALL posts, not just starters you want to appear in the tag.

All AU threads should come to an end at 11:59 pm PST on Sunday, 12 January, whether or not they are finished.

We are still in University! Same programs of study and living arrangements.

You can keep up current relationships and dynamics, or go completely bonkers and off the wall. After all, this is an AU, so it’s totally up to you!

Participation in AU is not required! But strongly encouraged. >:)

Non-AU Rules & Guidelines---

Please refrain from starting any new threads that aren’t part of the AU until the week is up.

You may continue any existing threads throughout the week! In fact, I encourage it! In fact, a huge reason we’re doing this week is so everyone has the chance to catch up on their holiday threads. So---

Please make every effort to have your current non-AU threads wrapped up by the end of AU. The goal is for everyone to be able to start fresh once our children return from holiday. If you can’t make the deadline with an important thread, HMU, and we can work something out.

There will be no activity check during AU week, but we are locking down heavy after, so if you need a break or a chance to rework something, this is your moment, my dudes. <3

It’s highly likely I’m missing something, so if you have any q’s, comments, concerns, anxieties, constipations, or curiosities that aren’t covered above, shoot me a message and I’ll get back to you ASAP.

HAVE FUN, KIDDOS!

[justsewingthings12-blog]

What Is All the Rave About Computerized Home Stitching Machines?

A computerized dwelling sewing equipment is just a device that has a pre-programmed and from time to time updateable computer panel into which various stitches are stored. A conventional machine has only mechanical pieces. Stitches are formed by a wide range of stitch cams that are in the device. The amount of stitch cams and the blend of stitches they can type will identify the quantity and varieties of stitches that can be sewn on a mechanical sewing equipment. However, I am acquiring ahead of myself below. A sew cam is a disc that has indentations all over the edge which guideline the needle bar and variety the picked sew. Just change a dial to a photo or quantity of a wanted sew on a mechanical stitching device. Do not overlook to pay consideration to the size of the sew and the width of the stitch - most of the time, depending on your stitching material, this calls for altering. For this to operate properly, you may well have to seek advice from your owner's guide. To be fair, mechanical sewing devices fulfill most property stitching desires, but a computerized machine normally takes the guesswork out of sew collection and tends to make stitching a lot easier and a great deal extra fun. When sewing by computer system, stitches are selected at the touch of a button, and the length and stress are pre-programmed. You can nonetheless alter if you so want to build a new appear. At a contact of a button, the sew may possibly be reversed, elongated, or even mirror-imaged. When stitching with decorative threads, such as rayon and metallic, the tension on a computerized residence stitching device will be instantly modified to guarantee best stitching. On a mechanical sewing equipment, the stress must be adjusted and a sample of the sew sewn. Also, some sorts of essential utility stitching can be accomplished a lot more simply on a computerized stitching equipment. Buttonholes and blind hems can be picked or modified at the touch of a button on a computerized device. Mechanical devices demand selecting the stitch size and width, and stitching quite a few samples to be guaranteed buttonholes appear great. When you are monogramming, a computerized machine calls for you only to pick out the good sew and with a mechanical equipment you must attract the monogram on your sewing cloth and sew freehand. (I have in no way been capable to grasp the freehand component - my lines typically conclude up crocked!) Mirror-imaging is not accessible on a mechanical equipment. (Mirror-imaging is earning two photos on your stitching material aspect by facet that are the same - the computerized equipment have the capabilities to do this.) Lower bobbin indicators are only readily available on computerized stitching machines - in no way on the mechanical sewing equipment. I utilised to operate out of thread on my mechanical machine and not detect it till I considered I was performed a seam - now, with my computerized device, I help save time and frustration when I listen to a beep that tells me that my bobbin has run out of thread! Nonetheless, how do you ascertain no matter whether the obtain rate of a computerized home sewing device is justified? one. Do you sew a variety of tasks from garments to crafts for your self and other members of your relatives? When you adored this short article and you wish to get more info with regards to singer 9960 quantum stylist 600 stitch kindly stop by our page. two. Do you call for decorative as properly as utility stitches for your sewing assignments? three. Would you like a sewing device that can be updated with new stitches and motifs? four. Does the advantage of a computerized device appeal to you? Some a long time back, I acquired a computerized house stitching device for myself and I would under no circumstances go back again to the mechanical home stitching devices - let us just say that I spoiled myself at that time.  

[whatisthisnonsense]

Continuing where we left off here, so we’re not cluttering Sarah’s pretty art (bless u @yunisverse ), did you know canonically Digimon are emotion eaters? “But Lea!”, you say. “That was in SAVERS, not Adventure!” Wasn’t it though? 

Think about it-- while they’re not necessarily feeding off it in the sense of sustenance, the digimon in Adventure all digivolve during a big influx of some form of emotion by their chosen child, usually related to the crest but not always (pants-shitting terror at Kuwagamon, for example). Normal, natural digivolution is usually a very long process of gathering energy and strength, with higher levels often taking decades if not hundreds or thousands of years (unless you suck, in which case you’re turning into a Numemon. Yes, that’s also canon.), so obviously the digimon MUST be feeding on something for those short bursts of energy, and since having the digimon feast upon their attached digidestined’s soul or lifespan is what we call bad, the natural source must be emotion. Following that thread, we see other digidestined in 02 (which I’m not going to go into for most of the lore it introduced because it is One Whole Yike, but Adventure itself introduced the concept that all you had to do to be a valid partner candidate is see a digimon and therefore this is valid) who ostensibly have the same bond as our actual Destiny’s Children without the Destiny bit, and we actively see Willis/Wallace/That Kid With The Two Bunny Digimon have his digimon digivolve. While Lopmon/Kokomon was out of his control for the most part and could arguably have been severed from the connection, Terriermon clearly wasn’t and also usually responded to emotion. As such, we can assume that this is a trait of all partner digivolutions. Why, then, are the Crests needed? Well, we find out they’re a bit of a magic feather, however they all still involve an emotion or state of being which the child exemplifies (besides Light, though that could be as in “the light in your heart that never goes out” IE Determination and Light just happened to sound more mystic and was also literally its attribute anyway, like how Honesty/Responsibility is Water and Sincerity/Purity is Plants) (Knowledge also isn’t a state of being or emotion, but the way they use the word I’m reasonably certain what they actually mean is WISDOM, which means Izzy in a state of being wise is what triggers it, not just him being a nerd). I would like to suggest, thusly, that the Crests show the emotion or mental state the digidestined represented by it has in abundance and thus what their digimon use to rocket up the digivolution ladder in ways faster and stronger than even normal human/digimon partnerships. The Crest associated with our hypothetical ninth duo? Kindness. Now, stay with me here. Allow my work-weary, sleep-deprived ass to switch from essay to narrative for a moment. Consider, if you will; Wizardmon has always been alone. Since he’s a chosen partner, Gennai dropped him when he was hit much like Gatomon, but velocity and angle meant he still hatched far away from her. He turned to magic for answers as to why he was left all alone when most are born and cared for in Primary Village, and he got good of it-- amazingly good, astoundingly good, impossibly wonderously G O O D  at magic-- but he never found his answers. Eventually, he gives up, assuming he was simply not worth the effort. That perhaps, his presence was a mistake. He wanders, looking for obscure magic but no longer having any purpose to it, aching for something he doesn’t understand nor believes exist. He says he passed through unremarked, but in many places you’ll hear tell of a quiet, soft-spoken digimon who repaired something with the snap of his fingers. Sometimes a wall, sometimes reviving a well, sometimes even bringing another digimon back from a hideous illness. But he was always gone the next day. If anyone could ask him, he’d shrug it off; it wasn’t something special, he thought. It just seemed cruel to leave things as they were, and while he’s many unpleasant things, he’d like to think he’s not cruel. (He is kind, he is so kind, but he can’t fathom it without anyone else around him, and no one nor place can hold him against that unknown longing in his programming, so it passes by him without note.) Of course, between his idle wandering and his constantly giving and giving and giving of his magical energy without much time to recover, he eventually pushes himself past exhaustion and falls out of the sky on one otherwise unremarkable day.  Those of you who’ve watched Adventure, of course, should recognize this as the event that caused him to meet Gatomon, and remember how absolutely baffled he was by her kindness-- he was already spreading himself thin, but he never had it returned to him mostly because he never stayed anywhere long enough for it-- and how fast he was to pledge undying loyalty for said shred of kindness. And this is true still, for he is still almost desperately loyal to her, but there is something else. Even when she truly forgets everything for the monster (ha) Myotismon turned her into, he can still see that longing for something she doesn’t know or understand in her eyes, and something in his chest tightens a little. It’s kinship, but he doesn’t recognize it-- he doesn’t have time, given how fast he parses the legends and figures out what she must be, as when he does that he out of hand assumes he could never be associated. Even so, they lessen eachother’s loneliness, and for a while that’s enough. Wizardmon does his best to play dumb, glide beneath the safety of contempt, and manages some tiny victories against the Dark Army’s, as after all he is never on Myotismon’s side. Some in-training digimon slipping out of the dungeon here, some misinformation there. In the end, however, he is mostly trying to give Gatomon the shot at a better life he is so certain she deserves, so every so often he has to get his hands dirty. It’s okay, though, really. It doesn’t matter what becomes of him, as long as she gets out. (Even so, when he’s forced to play evil minion to the hilt he tries his best to simply confuse or trick his target so he can leave them alive and unharmed, and if he can’t he does his damndest to make it quick. To do otherwise seems cruel, and he would still like to think he isn’t that at least.) As we all know, eventually seven dumbass kids with seven dumbass digimon who happen to also be the Digidestined turn up and Myotismon sets his plan in motion. Most of his minions just terrorize the town, but as ever Wizardmon is sneaky. He keeps his head down, and blends in, drawing children in and keeping an eye on Gatomon to see where and who she is most drawn to. He is being rather underhanded, he thinks, even though getting this gaggle of human children to watch in wonder and laugh isn’t actually necessary for his guise. He refuses to do otherwise, though. It doesn’t seem right. Naturally, Gatomon narrows what child is hers down without even realizing, but his own “patrol” draws in her and there is an almost uncomfortable snap in him as for a moment that ache, that eternal lonliness, is gone and-- no no, she just caught him flatfooted. He’s distracted and wasn’t expecting a compliment, particularly not one from someone clearly much older than the younglings he’s entertaining manipulating. The Tokyo arc is the same, but extended-- more red herrings and more time to convince Gatomon to remember that she is better than Myotismon’s lapcat, as well as scenes with Wizardmon and Minnie showing them drawing closer, albeit with Wizardmon’s denial or deflection on the subject pretty much even through his almost-death. Ah, yes. You didn’t think we kept most of that scene, did you? Of course Wizardmon gives his life for Gatomon-- by this point, it’s all he has left to give. It’s all he’s ever had to give, really. But remember how his body is still present in the show after his suppossed death? Well, that’s because he’s not quite dead yet; merely passed out. Minnie pulls him away and gets him to a relatively safe part of the building before he comes to again. He is defintely in the PROCESS of dying, though, but they refuse to let the kids know. It would be kinder for the kids not to see, at least for the moment, and thus the duo both lie through their teeth. And yet, when the kids leave to talk about what lies ahead next, Minnie turns and does her best to stop the digital hole in his chest from bleeding. He’s going to be fine, she tells him. It’s another lie, he thinks, but ah. “You’re...too kind...” There’s a faint glow from her pocket and for a moment his world is white and then he’s much more alive and terribly small. I’m gonna glaze over the rest of the Tokyo arc because we really need to get to the point in this fucking novel but I really need you to imagine a distressed Mokumon trying to wriggle out of Minnie’s arms as she tries to get him to fucking REST and then later him as a Candlemon accidentally setting the blankets he was tucked into on fire. Got that in your head? Good! Now let’s just--

There we go, see you in 02 asshole, moving on to the Dark Masters Ahem, anyway, as the group journeys through the reconfigured Digital World to forcibly scrub the influence of the Dark Masters away, Wizardmon slowly becomes a bit less aloof and a bit more on the awkward side. He’s gotten what he wanted-- Gatomon’s happy-- and he has a purpose, but that purpose doesn’t seem like something he should have, nor this group somewhere he should be. Nevermind he doesn’t really know how to handle a group out of his aloofness or various deceptions. And yet, ever so slowly, he begins to warm, and soften. Until that day in the desert. Minnie catches a lone and frightened younger digimon in the corner of her eye and diverts immediately to help it. The children and their partners are on board, of course, but before anyone can move, a Scorpiomon pops up and starts heading right for the young lady. The children shout, but Wizardmon can’t make out the words-- he’s already moving as fast as he can, even as he watches Minnie quickly turn to the younger digimon she found and hide them under a crevice, smiling before she moves away where it can’t see whatever happens. Even as she turns, pale and trying not to look frightened and moving AWAY from the kids a little so as to keep the arachnoid’s attention. Even as one of its legs connects with her cheek and knocks her away. That gentleness she was showing and his outrage and need to protect merges and twists and surges in a fountain of warmth in his chest, and he skids to a stop in front of her. Digivolving feels more like a soft blanket of darkness than anything resembling a change-- he barely even notices his limbs stretching or his clothing shift until it’s over and he’s...he’s... Myotismon. Minnie has the Crest of Kindness and he has turned into what is, objectively, the cruelest digimon to ever exist. Being Adventure the priority is Jokes, thus the immediate asking to tag out, but after this he is even more aloof than he was before, and not looking anyone in the eye. He is crushed, and once again come to the answer he always has for why he is why he is-- if he was ever meant to be here, then something must be wrong with him, and more likely he was never meant to be here at all. How interesting, do you think, it would be that it is not the Digidestined who has the huge, dramatic issue to confront, but the digimon? TL;DR, Don’t Blame You, essentially the jumping point for this whole narrative is, in a subversion to the usual “kid has to accept thing about self to slowly begin to heal from trauma and unlock potential”, essentially WIZARDMON is the one who has to learn here; the two-fold moral that he is allowed to ACCEPT Kindness and not just constantly give, and that the fact he is dark and spooky-- the fact his ultimate is the same as the mon who hurt him and the others-- does not make him less good or kind. And it only took about five novels to get here, amazing. If only I had this much energy for my actual writing.

[confessionary77]

‘I Should Have Remembered Them The Way They Were’

The past should be left alone. Re-visiting the best of memories will only ruin them.

Steven learned that on his own when he returned to his childhood hometown and was swept into the life he thought he left behind.

I spoke to an old friend recently and would like to share his story. However, he asked me to make sure he won’t be identified by what I wrote. It’s not as if he shared deep secrets or anything like it, but he rather likes his privacy and peace. Despite my opinion that there’s nothing to hide, I vowed to conceal anything that can eventually point at him. Names and some identifying characteristics therefore had to be changed.

— — —

Steven left his home when he was barely over 20. The country of his youth had just been through a war and emerged scarred, battered and radicalized. As Steven's dreams and plans expanded, his surroundings shrunk, metaphorically, until his future could no longer fit into the limited mould the country was shaping into. He packed his bags, said his farewells and left, leaving behind everything and everyone he knew.

Steven was a gifted wrestler, a middleweight national champion. His wrestling days started when he was eight and naturally all the friends of his youth hailed from the wrestling club. For years they were inseparable—they not only trained together, they also travelled across the continent for competitions and events; they focused their education on sports, went through the same schools and as result spent most of their waking time together. They studied together, partied together, vacationed together, trained together. They knew each other better than parents ever could. Then, three years before he left, Steven suffered a back injury which sidelined him from competition for a few months. When he healed and returned to wrestling, he realized he lost the killer drive that made him a champion, and took up coaching. He spent more times with his pupils than his old teammates, but although it loosened the tight bond they had, their friendship endured in a more mature, less intense form.

When he landed at his new home an ocean away, they kept in touch. Phone calls were expensive back then, the internet was still very young, but emails flew back and forth. His friends wanted to know everything—what was the weather like, how the life there differed from theirs, what are the girls like... Questions were flying thick and fast, emails piling up in his inbox faster than he could reply to them. It was almost as good as having them around. Then, within months, the questions became rarer, the responses to his emails terse and long in coming, until in the second year of his new life they tapered into nothing. Steven was hurt, of course, when his emails went unanswered. But, most of all, he was lonely. Building life in a new country takes great toll and having no one to share the challenges and soothe disappointments was hard. Drawing on the strength of will that made him a champion, he reminded himself that it was his decision to move away. He understood that his mates had their lives, their daily routines, problems and celebrations which didn't involve him any longer. In a way, cutting loose that particular thread of his previous life made him finally immerse himself into his new reality. He found a good job in a good media company and grew with it.

On personal side a girl emerged to help him build dreams. And, using those dreams as blueprint, they built their life together. His wrestling days and wrestling friends became just a story told on late evenings after the second glass of wine. The edges of that story, just like their faces in his memory, got blurred, softer, less real, until, just like the emails all those years earlier, they faded into nothingness.

Life took Steven as far away from wrestling as it was possible to go; he worked an office job dealing with the new media. The only sport he practiced was semi-regular running by himself when he had time or felt like it. That new media programming turned out to be lucrative enough so that at the age of 50 he was ready to retire. His and wife's careful planning made it possible to move back to Steven's childhood town where living was cheaper and their savings would stretch much further.

That's the long background story Steven shared one boozy evening. He was bothered by something, and although we weren't all that close, the conversation rolled smoothly and a minor life's lesson emerged.

"One day," Steven told me, "while out and about finishing some chores, I ran into an old wrestling coach of mine. We were both genuinely happy to see each other. We sat for a while at a cafe catching up, but both of us were busy rushing somewhere, so we exchanged phone numbers and promised to get together and unravel everything that happened in our lives in the last three decades. We hugged, laughed and separated, looking forward to meet again. We have been in touch over the phone once or twice since, but there was always something that made it inconvenient to meet. That same day, or maybe a day after, the coach ran into one of my old wrestling teammates. I imagine he went 'You won't believe whom I met...' and told him about me. That teammate was always known for his curiosity and gossip he liked to share with everyone. He quickly got busy, called the rest of the team to share the news. They still kept in touch and most of them were still involved in or around wrestling. I started getting phone calls from ghosts from the past, all eager to hear something I haven't told the others, so they can compare notes. Those conversations were stunted, riddled with awkward moments and pauses, but it didn't seem to bother them. They all wanted to meet me. Some invited me to a wrestling training."

"Before I left the country I was like them—blunt, chatty, curious. But through time I grew to be more politely distant, less eager to know things that aren't my business and averse to gossip. Wrestling was something I did in my youth. At the time it probably was the most important thing in my life. However, in the past two decades I don't know if I even thought about it, let alone mentioned it. It became as distant for me as the first children's picture-book I read; I vaguely remembered it, but had no desire to revisit it. Those guys, my former teammates, they seemed frozen in the past. They still plotted and schemed against other clubs and wrestlers, their jargon was still the same, their jokes as crude and insulting. To their invitations to the club I kept replying with 'will see,' 'can't right now,' 'too busy,' maybe next time...' I mean, everybody at his right mind would get it—I wasn't into it. And, maybe they did get it, but still wanted to make me say it out loud. So I did, I finally told them that I haven't been near a wrestling mat for 30 years and I still don't miss it, so I would like to keep it that way and keep myself away."

"When that was finally sorted out, they changed the tack. I got a call from Ned. Ned was my sparing partner in the days of my best results. We went to school together and hung out together; we were practically inseparable for four years. He was a brother I never had. Naturally, when he called, I wanted to see him. Not to pick up where we left off—I knew that was impossible—but to see how he's doing and what he made of his life. We went for a drink, him and wife and me and mine. I was around when he met his wife and knew both of them quite well, but I've never seen his two sons. Ned used to be tall, lanky with head full of unruly blond curls girls were crazy about. Ned whom I met now was a prematurely aged bold guy with torso too wide for his long limbs. He spoke like the 16-year-old Ned I remember, and that maybe more than anything else, felt so weird. It seemed that, except the physical change, not much else has changed about him. Nad had forgotten to grow up. While the wives politely tried (and failed, I'll learn later) to find something common to talk about, Ned gabbed about his sons' extreme talent for wrestling. I smiled politely and tried to nod at appropriate places, hoping he'll think that I care. When we finally managed to talk about our lives, the brief sketches of all that happened since I went away, it exposed the gulf so broad and so deep that no amount of small talk could bridge it. Ned was still involved in wrestling, professionally, as a high administrator for the national association. His wife who was just getting into car sales business when I left, was now a senior manager in a dealership. Their life-paths followed the pre-set trajectory. They are now a few steps higher on the same ladder they started climbing back then."

"I, on the other hand, was doing something so completely unrelated and so utterly foreign to them that they couldn't comprehend what I was talking about when I tried to explain. I got an impression they thought it a failure that I did something other than wrestling. After a few minutes there was nothing to talk about. Of course, I could have feigned interest and asked again about his kids' training, which would undoubtedly unleash another tirade of boastful tales, but I could muster no strength for it. When we came home, wife said 'so, that was Ned! I imagined him completely different.' She hit the nail on the head—I, too, remembered him different. Suddenly, I felt a terrible loss. It was as if Ned was a shiny happy memory kept in a special gallery of my mind's archive. He was forever young, forever shy, funny, witty kid with a talent for wrestling and a charming conversation that so smoothly blended with my own. Together, we were a power-pair people wanted to be around. This new-old Ned tainted that picture forever and I was furious with myself for allowing it."

"After meeting Ned, I stopped taking the calls from the gang. Slowly, they tapered off. They taught me a really important lesson: never tried to re-live the memories, they can never live up to the image in your head. All the people I knew from my past are now strangers with whom I have nothing in common. Meeting them only serves the purpose of comparing who aged more gracefully. Keep the memory of your youth precious and NEVER try to reconnect with people you lost touch with. If they were meant to stay in your life, they would have been there all along. Instead, it's like re-reading that old picture-book, one can't help but find it inadequate, lame and strange."