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volkswagonblues · 4 years

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a lil guide to the Fire Nation for the ATLA fic writers out there

(aka. a no means exhaustive primer on east asia by an asian person)

This is a guide for fic writers want to write a canon-era story set in the Fire Nation, or featuring Fire Nation characters. A quick little primer on the tiny details of everyday life that you might not think about, but certainly stuff that would make me, an asian person, wince if I were to encounter it. BRUSHES, not quills. CHOPSTICKS, not forks.

(note #1: this was partly inspired by a chat with @elilim)

(note: #2: I originally intended it for zukka fic writers before realizing that other writers might find it useful. so apologies for a slight Zuko-bias for that reason)

(note #3: this is all stuff i was thinking about when writing firebender’s guide, in case anyone was wondering)

1. CLOTHING

Okay, I think the most straightforward way to describe what everyone’s wearing most of the time is “tunic”. They’re all just...tunics of different colours and varieties. Later when Zuko’s the Fire Lord he wears robes. The show provides a better visual guide than I could, here are a few notes to keep in mind:

a) Japanese people wear their collars LEFT crossed over RIGHT

I don’t think this would come up in writing as much as it would in art, but it’s considered bad luck to do it the wrong way because that’s only for dead people. Let my boy Zuko demonstrate:

b) There are no buttons

This is picky, but Wikipedia says “Functional buttons with buttonholes for fastening or closing clothes appeared first in Germany in the 13th century.[6] They soon became widespread with the rise of snug-fitting garments in 13th- and 14th-century Europe.” I kinda believe it. If you look closely, characters’ clothes are always tied together or wrapped in some way with a belt. If there are fasteners, they’re braided frog closures that go into a little loop, like the qipao-style dresses women wear in Ba Sing Se, or Zuko’s casual prince’s clothes in the topmost image. Anyways, I don’t think Zuko or Azula or the Gaang would technically button or unbutton anything when they’re changing clothes. Clothing is designed to be tied, not buttoned.

[so much more under cut]

c) This isn’t a real rule, but there’s something called koromogae, or the seasonal changing of clothing in Japan.

This is something I learned when I was writing firebender’s guide, and I just liked the fun detail about there being a strict calendar for when to wear something. I liked the idea of someone like Zuko, who actually spent most of his formative years outside of the Fire Nation, coming home and just suffering mutely through the summer heat because upper class etiquette says no changing into cooler clothes until August 15.

From My Asakusa:

And this website:

Generally, people change from thick, heavy, dark-coloured clothes for winter to thin, lighter, bright-coloured clothes for spring and summer. In traditional Japanese culture, particularly in formal settings such as tea ceremony, it is important to acknowledge the changes of seasons—in such circumstances, not only the patterns and colours of the kimono that are worn but also the utensils and furniture that are used are required to change. By changing their clothing, people notice and appreciate the change of seasons. [Japan Foundation]

Here are some visual guides from the official creators for clothes: (notice how it’s pretty much always left over right)

2.FOOD AND EATING

a) Traditional cuisine

It seems like the most common foods in canon are Fire Flakes and meat, to the point where poor Aang had to eat lettuce out of the garbage at some point.

HOWEVER, the Fire Nation seems to basically a big subtropical archipelago, so I would guess that seafood and rice are common. If you want to write about characters eating, a. quick google for “traditional japanese cuisine” would help you come up with a menu really quickly.

Wikipedia says:

The traditional cuisine of Japan, washoku (和食), lit. "Japanese eating" (or kappō (ja:割烹)), is based on rice with miso soup and other dishes; there is an emphasis on seasonal ingredients. Side dishes often consist of fish, pickled vegetables, and vegetables cooked in broth. Seafood is common, often grilled, but also served raw as sashimi or in sushi.

But before we get too serious, at one point the Gaang eats a “smoked sea slug” (Sokka’s Master)

Oh ATLA, never stop being you.

b) Utensils

One thing to keep in mind is chopstick etiquette. Someone like Zuko or Toph, for instance, would have completely internalized all of these.

Another thing is that there are no glasses. Cups and bowls are made of ceramic or clay. Let the Gaang show you:

And another note: characters won’t eat “bread” in the European sense, ie. a baked lump of dough. Steamed buns, yes. Fried pancakes made from batter, yes. Flatbreads, okay I’ll give it a pass. Rice or noodles should be the most common carbs of choice.

3.ETIQUETTE

“In the homeland, we bow to our elders” - angry schoolmistress in The Headband.

Japan Guide has a list of etiquette rules for visiting Japan, which is interesting but not too necessary to read. In general, based on what The Headband tells us, Fire Nation characters would have been raised with a strong nationalist curriculum that values communal contribution over individualist expression. Even someone like Zuko, who openly rebels against that, probably couldn’t help but be affected by it. In general the Fire Nation seems to have an East Asian-ish set of values. It’s patriarchal, all the positions of authority are filled by men; there seems to be a strong emphasis on patriotism; there’s a sense of diffidence and respect towards one’s elders; and finally, there’s an emphasis on “knowing” one’s place in society and fitting into what’s expected of oneself.

I don’t really know how to describe it, but in China and Japan I sometimes feel like there’s rules for everything, and even people born and raised there acknowledge it could be stifling at times. You could go down a rabbit hole researching points of etiquette (for instance, rules on who has to sit where in group dinners...), but to me the most important thing is acknowledging that Fire Nation has a rigid system of etiquette, and also, they’re an imperialist power who’s pretty prejudiced against foreigners. Poor Aang/Kuzon gets called “mannerless colony slob” just for being slow on the bowing action (!!!)

(in firebender’s guide I had a lot of fun imagining the stupid microaggressions Ambassador Sokka has to face in the Fire Nation, so obviously I’m just biased)

4.WRITING AND DESKS

Characters would probably write on paper, with a calligraphy brush. Not quills or pens -- a brush. Technically, old Japanese and Chinese texts should be written top to bottom, right to left, but the show itself doesn’t do this, so I think you’re fine.

One fun thing about traditional calligraphy is that you don’t use bottled ink. You have something called an ink stone, and then you grind your ink yourself by rubbing the ink stone in a special little dish with a bit of water. In my (very few) encounters with this stuff in the calligraphy lessons of my youth, the ink stones can be plain or have beautiful designs on the side. It looks something like this:

ATLA is an East Asian-ish universe, so characters are likely to be kneeling at a table, not sitting. To demonstrate, here’s my boy Sokka doing his famous rainbow at Piandao’s:

and here’s the war chamber meeting when Zuko speaks out against a general’s plans to sacrifice some soldiers:

THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS: This is Zuko’s cute little setup when he’s writing his goodbye letter to Mai. In this case he’s writing in a chair and table. It’s possible that some furniture items, like a sitting desk and a bed in a bedframe (not a bedroll or futon) are special royal palace features. Normally in a private setting we see characters sitting on the ground or on a slightly elevated platform with a low table. Maybe Caldera is just different? Or rich people are just different: the Bei Fongs also have a sit-down dining table + chair setup.

(That little rectangular box is his ink dish!!)

5.A NOTE ON GENERAL CULTURE

It’s worth talking about a few general points of East Asian culture. I can’t claim to speak for ALL of Asia, and I don’t think I should. But I do think ATLA fic writers who want to set something in the Fire Nation should take a few moments to at least skim the wiki pages for filial piety and Nihonjinron (literally, "theories/discussions about the Japanese"). There’s a certain...vibe to...asianness... that I’m not sure I can explain without like, a doctorate degree in sociology.

It’s a bit like gender, I guess. There’s no definitive checklist to what is a woman and what is a man, and we can argue that gender is performative, that it’s a construct, but at the end of the day gender is still (tragically) real in the sense that it still shapes people and affects how we walk and talk and dress and think. Nationality is the same. Obviously, the Fire Nation is a made up place in a made up show, but out of respect to the cultures that inspired it, I do think it’s worth familiarizing yourself with some of these cultures’ codes and values.

Also, ahem, if I can direct you to war crimes in the Japan’s colonial empire. Again, worth remembering that the Fire Nation was an imperalist colonizer too.

I might do a continuation of this post and talk through my more abstract takes about Fire Nation culture - Is Zuko an example of filial piety gone right or filial piety gone wrong? Why I think Zuko’s flashbacks are like, at least part teenage melodrama bullshit (the reason is son preference), how someone like Sokka might be treated once he’s openly Water Tribe in the Fire Nation (probably with racism...), specific aspects of asian homophobia and racism, etc. We’ll see.

This is not a definitive guide. Comments and critique welcome.

If you think there’s a factual mistake, PLEASE hop in my asks and let me know. I also think there’s a huge blind spot in ATLA for South and Southeast Asian representation, so I acknowledge that I can’t speak for all Asians, and there is no such thing as a “pan-asian” identity.

If there’s something else you’re curious about, I’m not a historian or anything, but I like research. Ask me and I’ll try to answer the best I can.

And oh, one last thing, this is how I do research when I wrote firebender’s guide, in case anyone’s interested in learning more (LINK)

#Avatar The Last Airbender #zukka #atla fic #my fic #fire nation

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dark128 · 4 years

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KNOCKOUT - CHAPTER 11

“Do you want me to?”

Bo nods down at the condom Harry’s stiffly holding onto. He’s coiled up so tight that it would be a bad idea to let her undress him. He’s having a difficult enough time as it is just toying with the inevitable of her touching him, let alone below the waist.

Bo had watched in fondness from her spot lounging on the bed as Harry moved from candle to candle, lighting as many as he could before the flame on the match got too low. She’d laughed at his explanation for not striking a second match, claiming there was a fine line between romantic and sacrificial.

But now in this soft, flickering room, she smiles at him and he almost loses his nerve.

“No, it’s alright, I’ve got it.” Kneeing closer to her across the mattress, “just lay back,” Harry encourages softly.

On second thought, that’s probably the worst thing he could of suggested because now Bo’s laid beneath him and he’s acquired an audience to a process that makes his hands shake. Hair splays on his pillows and it’s been so long since he’s had something so pretty occupy his bed.

She’ll linger on his sheets. The smell of her perfume and the fleeting heat of her body which escapes once the covers are peeled back, both temporary, both are not enough. He craves so much more. But the memory will be permanent.

Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way she’s looking at him now, like he hung the moon and every star in the sky.

He swallows before going through the motions of unbuttoning his jeans and sliding the zip. The full weight of her gaze lands on his stomach as the bottom of his t-shirt is taken between his teeth to hold it up and out of the way. Fingertips unwittingly tickle as Bo traces his hip and on towards his belly button. And he sort of hopes she misses the goosebumps it raises on his skin.

As Harry gently presses to widen her legs, the winsome charm she led with earlier seems to escape her. He’s left feeling fully endeared by her absent fiddling of his belt loop.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

There’s a smile but it lacks prowess and so Harry removes himself from looming over her and comes to lay beside her. Bo shifts into him.

“We’ve had sex before.”

It’s quiet because he doesn’t want to disturb the delicacy they’ve slipped into. Facing each other, it’s still a little difficult to comprehend that he’s with her now. She’s in his tiny basement flat where the hot water is temperamental and the floorboards creak in odd places along the hall.

“I know. But it feels new,” she softly smiles, thumb lightly rubbing at the tattoo on his hip.

Her beauty has become more refined in the five years they’ve known each other, more of a classic look that has Harry pinned every time she holds his eye contact. Despite her wishes for a growth spurt, Bo stands at the same height against Harry’s shoulder. But now there’s a confidence in the way she holds herself, filled with achievements and future aspirations.

He can’t really imagine what she’s seeing. He’s been greeted by this image of tattoos and damaged eye every morning for years whilst he brushes his teeth in the bathroom mirror. So perhaps this intimacy does feel new to her now.

He’s pliantly patient as he waits for Bo to initiate further contact between them. They talk quietly, muffling laughter into the pillow as Harry recounts one of his mishaps in the kitchen. It’s not long before she’s bashfully rubbing her nose to his and Harry’s sighing into the sweet kiss they share.

He welcomes the palm warming his side and it’s when she gets a little more handsy that Harry encourages Bo to seat herself upon his lap. Sat with his back to the coolness of the wall, there’s a heavy clash in temperature between the brickwork and the woman he holds close. And whether wilfully calculated or involuntary, Bo’s hip movements are progressing the thoughts in Harry’s one-track mind. The longing of experiencing another person so intimately is finally being quelled, soft mouths and testing fingertips reaffirming to the both of them.

But it’s the tug to Bo’s hair that sharply clears the heavenly ascent, lacking in any sort of lustful passion and is instead leaning more towards unintentional pain. She breaks the kiss, fingers wrapping Harry’s wrist.

“AaaaAA,” Bo’s pitch escalates as he attempts to remove the hand riddled with silver rings from her hair.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Harry fusses.

She’s instructed to hold still, huffing out a sigh, whilst Harry sorts the situation out with a commentary of swears. Looking like she’s sucking on a lemon, Bo obediently follows Harry’s lead as he adjusts so he’s not working in his own shadow. Once she's free, her hair is tangled enough to make drawing her fingers through it bit of a pain.

Harry twists the rings off his fingers, throwing them in irritation to the bedside. Another colourful curse falls from his mouth as he shuffles them both down the bed before flopping backwards onto the mattress. Bo watches as he rubs his eyes with tightly clenched fists.

“I’m sorry,” Harry sighs through his hands that are currently covering his face.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I cocked that up.”

Still currently residing in Harry’s lap, she’s not quite sure if she should remove herself given that the mood has taken bit of a nosedive. Bo’s answer is given moments later as Harry’s knees come up behind her and palms splay out on her thighs.

“Don’t. Feels good.”

“You ok?”

“I’m fine, are you alright?” he tightly replies.

“You just seem a little tense,” she warily suggests.

“It hasn’t exactly gone as smoothly as I’d hoped.”

He doesn’t quite meet her eyes, the action weighing heavy on her chest.

“You been thinking about this a lot then?” Bo teases, eyebrows suggestively raising as she tries to lighten the tone.

“‘Bout what?” he fires back, palms softly squeezing where they’ve remained.

Harry loves the flirting, and is more than thrilled to have it reciprocated, to have her play with him in this back and forth. Suggestive tones that are made even more fun because he knows there’s a depth to it.

But he sort of also wants to hear her explain their situation. Explicitly.

“What do you think?”

“Couldn’t say,” he goads.

“About having me under you,” Bo simply replies, not missing a beat.

Prayers answers.

“Maybe, but it’s mostly been about the cuddling and kisses on the cheek.”

“Liar,” she accuses, lightly pinching at his side.

“Ok, ok!” he jostles her as Bo’s fingers find a particularly ticklish spot under his arm. “I might have thought once or twice about getting you in that window seat.”

“You said you were kidding about that,” she implores, batting him across the arm.

“A guy can dream.”

“Well, you’ll be dreaming for an eternity.”

“Shame, any thoughts about the same activity in the shower?”

Bo laughs, rearranging herself out of Harry’s lap.

“Maybe we should concentrate on the current situation,” she motions, “lay back."

Harry’s on his back and he feels like a fucking lemon because his hands don’t know how to play it cool and his heart is hammering like it’s his first time. He can’t be sure what Bo is doing until she appears with her hair tied back from her face. She’s assumed the odd position of straddling his knees. And Harry watches her crawl up his body before a kiss between them only has four inches to make contact.

“Hey,” Bo hushes with a smile. “How ya doing?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” Bo lightly tests, her fingernails running across his stomach.

Harry lays with his brain between his legs and his bottom lip between his teeth. He enjoys the lingering tingle as nails drag just that little bit too deep; done it to himself when the occasion arises and he’s in the mood to get off. But this is different because for the first time in a while it’s not Harry’s own hand palming over the seam of his jeans. And it’s the partially choked sound he makes that sets her smile.

Her touch is gentle, easing his jeans down until another tattoo is uncovered. She gives it some consideration, thumbing over the patch of inked skin.

“Is this a tiger?” she asks, grinning up at Harry.

“Thiger.”

Bo snorts before clamping her hand to his thigh to lean in for a kiss, which ends up being a clumsy kiss to his chin when Harry moves his head at the last second. They laugh again.

“Please tell me you didn’t just get that tattoo so you could make that joke,” she scorns him whilst edging his underwear down.

“It did make you laugh thou-“

The sentence is choked off as Bo takes him into her mouth. All thoughts evaporate from his mind, only ones of pleasure and utter desperation remain as she licks around the tip.

“You’re gunna have to bear with me, it’s a steep learning curve.”

And Harry thinks she almost looks smug as her index traces the curve of him from base to head. Even more so as his cock is laden with chaste kisses, an innocent gesture for such an erotic setting. And apparently mirroring his dilemma between either wanting to take Bo sweetly or just nail her into the mattress.

He only realises how pent up he is when his fists loosen in the sheets once she’s finished with her little display. He’s hardened fully and he’s having trouble with digesting the image of her laid between his legs.

Even with a mouth full of cock she’s trying hard not to smile.

“You’re gunna kill me,” he pants, eyes rolling back.

She huffs a laugh around him which proves to visibly tighten the muscles in his thighs. And it’s only now that Harry thinks, she tied her hair back to suck me off. He may have transcended to a higher plain of existence as her hand begins to work him over - deliberate with her strokes and squeezing just slightly to keep him coiled up.

Harry’s own hands have returned to the sheets, balling them in fists as he endures what’s panning out to be the most long-awaited oral of his life. He’s a little embarrassed to say that he can already feel the muscles in his stomach tightening. It’s a hot clench that only burns warmer by the second. Harry’s approach is a little haphazard, but the hand he brushes to Bo’s cheek hurriedly catches her shoulder to encourage her away.

“I-I think I’ll be alright now.”

Or maybe not, Harry swallows as Bo passes the back of her hand over the corner of her mouth.

“Spoilsport,” she teases.

***

“I always loved your thighs,” Harry comments, warming his palms to the inside of Bo’s legs.

He’s going to satisfy that heavy ache she feels low in her belly. It only intensifies as Harry looks up at her through his eyelashes. He’s going to bewitch her senses and leave her wanting him again and again. It’s been so long, Bo would forgo sleep and forfeit any sort of productiveness the next day just roll in the serenity of candlelight and a lover’s warmth.

She’s still sporting her bee-saving t shirt as she watches the muscles in his chest and shoulders transform with his movement. An ungainly squeak is produced on account of Harry sharply dragging her a little further down the mattress. Something which he finds highly amusing judging by the crinkle to his nose.

“Brute.”

Harry laughs.

He murmurs a quick apology, brushing his fingers to her cheek before retrieving a condom. The process is smoother as his hands refuse to quake and now Bo’s onlooking makes his blood rush in electric excitement. He’s practically thrumming with it as his touch leisurely slips between the apex of her thighs. She clamps his hand there with the forgotten feeling of someone else’s kind fingers. Harry’s treated to a series of spectacular little sounds, whisperings and then small startles that are muffled into Bo’s arm as she hides her face. He’s being brazen with it, not just the fact that his fingers play but knowing that this is what she wants, she wants him.

There’s a look of wild revelation as his fingers dip into wet warmth. The couple hold eye contact, Harry’s movements gentle and without haste in the knowledge of acts to follow. There’s an actual throbbing between Bo’s thighs, making them shake in the effort to keep them from falling completely open. It’s barely a whisper, but Harry hears it, the “please” that tells him she’s barely keeping it together.

She’s ethereal laying below him, all soft features and devout gaze as he lines up and finally pushes in. It’s almost jarring the way she feels around him again, giving him that pliant smile, the one he recognises, the one that means she’s not completely with him. That is until he starts to move and it’s like she’s a drowning woman breaching the surface. Her back arches from the bed, arms around his neck as she pants into his, clinging to him like he’s her saviour.

“Harry.’

His name is spoken in a raging half whisper.

“I know,” he replies because he can feel it too.

Rapture. She’ll be his undoing and his sexual reawakening. Harry welcomes that warm pull in his belly as he angles his hips to draw new, breathy sounds from his lover’s lips.

Bo’s an honest delight beneath him. The way he can feel her toes curling against his calf, her fingers gripping his nape to encourage him further on top. As if he could get any closer, they’re already sharing breath and fumbling kisses.

Harry’s pretty sure a bottom corner of the fitted sheet has sprung loose with the way they’re contorting to keep damp skin close. His skimming hands have pushed her t shirt up, deft fingers hooking the right cup from her bra down so he can kiss at her breast.

She’s more fussy than he remembers, especially when he leans away and takes a heady breather. Her huffing is a tad undue but Harry thrives in it, noting her disgruntled expression as he slips from her entirely. There’s a flash of an unpleasant second when Harry’s mind tells him he’s going to be booted in the face.

But Bo’s brought her feet up to lightly drum against his chest and Harry can’t help but laugh at the playfulness, grabbing at her ankles before she has a chance patter against him again.

“Come on,” she almost whines.

His hands move of their own accord, sliding down her calfs to press his thumbs into the back of her knees.

“Impatient little thing, aren’t you,” Harry replies, leaning into her whilst spreading and gently bearing down on the back of her thighs.

There’s pink blooming on her cheeks, and Harry can’t be sure if it’s the temperature in their duvet fort, or the fact that Bo’s ankles are now resting on his shoulders.

“You promised me a whole evening.”

Harry thinks her chide lacks the lustre needed to fully penalise him, especially when he can feel her wriggling to meet his hips.

“And I wouldn’t want to go back on my promise.”

He lightly kisses at her ear, unworried about hiding his smile.

“Because that would make you a shitty person.”

He’s not expecting the pinch to his hip, so the growl he produces in response is a surprise to both of them.

“I don’t remember you being so boisterous.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re practically bending me in half.”

Harry lets Bo unfurl, her legs slipping down to rest beside his hips once more.

“You’ll have to forewarn me next time so I can stretch beforehand.”

“Next time?” Harry curiously enquires.

“I’m not just having you once,” Bo breathily promises in his ear, the tone making it seem like that fact was obvious.

Harry plays along with their distracted conversation, leaning over her with an elbow propped and his thigh between hers.

“Tonight?”

He’s not ready for the shove to his shoulder or the dominating role reversal, so when Bo’s sat astride him Harry’s sure she feels him twitch. She doesn’t play at coy, but there’s definitely something more bashful in her movements as she delights in the feel of him again.

“Forever.”

That promise sets his heart soaring.

She reaches behind for him, shuffling back to seat herself fully down with a flutter of eyelashes and somewhat of a startled whimper. And Harry can’t help but grunt at this all-consuming feeling; this time with the added pressure of hands splayed on his chest as he’s halfheartedly held down.

“Was that a bit cheesy?” Bo asks once she’s chased her breath. “It sounded romantic in my head.”

“A bit, but I think it worked in the moment.”

“Good, because I meant it."

He doesn’t want it to sound insincere whilst she’s riding him, so Harry bottles up the ‘I love you’, and saves it for when he can confess with a clearer mind. Instead, he grabs at her hips, eyes devouring the way her body moves against his and he’s delighted with the repeat image of her bouncing, slack jawed. And because he’s a tease, Harry delights further in the sounds she creates when his hips come up to meet hers.

She wants him every way she can, but that wish may have to wait.

“Lean forward,” he pleads.

Bo’s forehead comes to rest on Harry’s as his feet plant to the mattress and his knees come up behind her. With the strength of his tattooed hips, he meets hers at a toe-curling rate. Bo succumbs, allowing Harry to take the lead and guide them both, her face finding the crook of his neck and his arms wrapping around her back. He cradles her into completion, hearts hammering as Harry chases the rapture that Bo blissfully makes peace with. It’s only with the last few stuttering thrusts that Bo pushes up, taking his face between her hands to kiss away the curses that slip free from his smile.

***

“I like them,” Bo admires, fingers running over twin inked dates on his shoulders.

She shifts a little to sit back on his thighs, taking his forearm with her as she intently inspects all the splashes of black ink she’s unfamiliar with. It’s all Harry can do to give Bo a soppy smile whilst she carries on, giving each design her attention. They’re partially dressed again, Harry only decent enough to have taken delivery of their pizza before returning to the bedroom.

“Who’s this?”

Harry’s arm is raised as Bo taps a finger to the tattoo in question. It’s a delicate gesture that challenges her comical disapproval.

“My mermaid.”

“She’s cute,” Bo says, finger following the swish of dark hair. “Why’d you get her?”

“Dunno, I’ve always liked swimming.”

He’s met with a surprised laugh.

“So, of course, logically you got a mermaid permanently tattooed on your body,” she chides, shaking her head.

There’s a small “B” inked just below the inside crease of his elbow. She tilts her head, smoothing over the skin with her thumb.

“That one’s yours,” he says simply, like it couldn’t be anything else.

“Mine?” she asks, eyebrows shooting up.

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Yep, “B” for Bo,” Harry tells her quietly. “Beautiful.”

She licks her thumb, rubbing at the letter.

“You really got it tattooed?”

“Yeah,” he laughs.

“That’s permanent.”

“I’m aware,” Harry smirks, biting at her neck. “Just like my mermaid.”

“Yeah, just like her,” Bo thoughtfully rephrases.

It’s a few moments before she replies, still rubbing at the small letter.

“Why’d you get it?”

“You’re important to me, you’ve helped me through so much, it just felt right.”

She doesn’t say anything in return, not sure that she actually can. Pouting in contemplation, Bo shifts a little in Harry’s lap.

“Maybe I should get your name tattooed on me.”

“Oh, really?” Harry smirks. “Where? Hopefully somewhere only I get to see?”

“Hmmm, I was thinking more of a chest piece,” she leans away, gesturing to a band of skin above her breasts.

Harry appears a little horrified for a moment but his composure cracks before laughing and grabbing for her hands.

“I’m not sure that’s your best idea.”

She slumps back to be cradled into Harry’s side.

“Or maybe I’ll just get a ‘H’ here,” she hushes, voice more sincere as fingers point to the exact spot on her arm where he has her inked. “So we can match.”

Bo’s treated to a kiss to the tip of her nose. She sighs before further squirming away to continue the inspection of body art.

“Roll over then.”

She makes herself comfortable, sitting astride his lower back as delicate fingers trace more tattoos curving around his side.

“Oh God, that one’s awful.”

Harry huffs a laugh into the pillow in response to her brash opinion and feathery touch.

***

Harry wakes to the heart wrenching feeling of an empty bed. He sits up rather abruptly, hands skimming bed-warm sheets as the duvet slips to pool at his waist. He swallows twice, mind reeling to kickstart foggy memories from hours before.

The bedroom door has been left ajar, just enough for a thin strip of light to hollow out the darkened room. Soft footsteps follow and Harry’s heart climbs back down his throat for it to thud against his ribcage.

His body flops back against the pillows before the door is nudged just enough for Bo to slip back through. She doesn’t think anything of Harry now sprawled out on his back, but she knows he’s awake because of the subtle inclination when she draws back the confusion of sheets.

“Your hot tap is broken,” Bo hushes whilst climbing back into bed on the floor.

She receives a rough hum, Harry’s arm draping her waist.

“Did you hear me?”

Instead of moving himself closer, he opts for coercing Bo until the length of her body is flush to his, like he’s seeking the cool side of the pillow.

“Broken,” he grunts.

“And you don’t have a bath mat, my feet got cold. I can go out and get you one tomorrow. Or today?” she adds, trying to lean over Harry to confirm the time on one of their phones.

He mumbles something incoherent into her shoulder, lips forming words like kisses upon her skin. With her on her back and Harry now on his side, he’s almost perfected the art of blurring the lines between them and creating one warm entity under the covers.

“Repeat that.”

She gently catches under his chin with the tips of her fingers, prising him from the nook in her neck.

“Don’t need one.”

The raspy words catch in his throat.

“Everyone needs a bathmat. Where will you dry your feet? You’ll just track wet footprints through your room.”

“I’ll think about it.”

No, he won’t.

“Of course you won’t, I’ll just go and get you one,” she pauses. “It’ll be a fluffy orange monstrosity because you’re being difficult about it. Probably a matching toilet cover as well - if they still even sell those?”

The arm banding her middle squeezes tighter which Bo thinks is Harry’s silent way of getting her to hush..

“I love you.”

Oh.

Bo stills in his arms.

It’s something she’d insinuated hours before. That she would still be his in the morning, and every other morning of her promised ‘forever’. But for him to utter the words into their lengthy, soft post-sex haze - Bo was just about ready to settle into the cradle of sleep. But now she’s fully awake.

He’s still pressed against the length of her, his hair brushing her cheek as the urgency to gauge her reaction grows.

“I’m in love with you - still.”

Still. Like he’d never stopped. And that’s a little terrifying to know, especially in the knowledge of their separation and the years between then and their reunion.

“I’m still in love with you,” he rephrases. “Got there in the end.”

His lips catch a soft smile which diminishes as his words rest into silence. Harry feels Bo draw in a grounding breath as though she’s trying to compose herself. Unsure as to whether this conversation should be illuminated, Harry decides against turning on the lamp. Partly because he frightened to disturb her but mostly because he can’t bear the thought of seeing Bo’s face if it’s rejection that awaits him.

“If you’re not ready then I - well, I understand -“

“I’d like to take you out,” Bo interrupts.

“What?”

“Not fatally,” she hurriedly explains, “like on a date?”

“Oh - ok.”

“Yeah? We could go out to dinner or have cake at a cafe in one of the parks? Or there’s that cinema experience that looks quite fun.”

*** 4 Months Later ***

Harry can hear it in her voice, that she’s not prepared for his confession of undying love just yet and she certainly isn’t ready to say it back. But this is the start that they both deserve, a calm, normal beginning to their new relationship. It’s a chance to get to know each other again and to see where it progresses. And Harry’s happy with that as they lay and bounce date ideas between them, all the while Bo’s fingers have found his own.

“Why must everything be so high up?” Bo grumbles.

Her complaint is voiced to the glasses on the top shelf in Harry’s kitchen cupboard. Despite her irritation, he’s pleased to see her emerge minutes later with two drinks in hand and his socks pulled up nearly to her knees over leggings.

“I see you were successful,” he grins as Bo sorts out coasters.

“Well, I did nearly pull everything off the worktop in my struggle, but it’s fine.”

Her words are accompanied with a sugar-sweet smile that can only mean trouble for Harry. He hopes he’s forgiven with the choice of Tuesday night Bake-Off on the telly. And it’s as Bo’s laughing at some awful bread pun that the question just feels right.

“Bo, do you wanna move in?”

She smiles, pressing into his side and rearranging his arm so it curls around her back.

“No,” he huffs a laugh, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “I mean move into the flat - with me.”

“Really?”

Bake-Off forgotten, Bo swivels to face him. There’s joy dancing in her eyes as the bun atop her head bobs with her excited wriggle to move closer. The TV is set on mute and Harry becomes confused at the sharpness in her eyes.

“I want the left side of the bed, permanently,” she negotiates.

“It’s yours. Even when you’re not here.”

“And you’ll leave space in the bathroom for my things?”

“I mean, there’s quite a lot of your stuff in there already - but of course.”

Bo kisses his cheek.

“I just got my first pay from work,” Bo happily states. “I’m gunna buy some proper glasses, so we don’t have to drink wine out of mugs.”

“What’s the point?” Harry laughs. “The fact that you stick a straw in everything sort of lowers the tone of a proper wine glass anyway.’

The remark earns him a sore shoulder.

“And we can always get you a step for the kitchen.”

She rounds on him so fast he nearly spills the drink he’s just picked up from the coffee table.

“We will not be doing that. You’ll help me move everything down so I can reach it myself.”

“No problem.”

“I’m gunna phone my mum,” she rambles, untangling from Harry and tripping over a charging cable.

“Should I set up a direct debit? Or do you just want me to transfer my half to you each month? What would be easier?”

“Don’t worry,” he laughs. “We can sort it out later.”

“I love you!” she calls from where she’s peeking around the doorframe.

It’s such a casual gesture but Harry’s settling into the knowledge that the love he’s bursting with is reciprocated by the woman he adores.

“I love you, too,” he smiles.

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jhoudiey · 3 years

Text

Inspired by a convo in the writing server and by Mamo's salty Jade, I wrote some fluffy-ish Yoru and Floyd mountain "date" nonsense. No warnings except bad grammar.

_______________________________________________________

“Hey Fugu-chan do you wanna come fight a monster with me?” Floyd had pulled himself through Yoru’s window as usual to interrupt her studies.

“Floyd, it’s 1pm, don’t you have class?”

“Ehhh I don’t wanna go, its the same boring stuff every day anyway” He perched in her windowsill urging her to follow him.

“Where’s this monster?” She grinned and put her books down, Floyd had a point. Fighting was always more fun than studying.

“In the mines where we went camping! I wanna see if I can find another one!” he insistently waved for her to hurry up.

“Still mad you didn’t get to go all out last time, huh?” She stretched out her shoulders and joined him at the window.

“Mhmmm~ Now that I have my magical pen back I want to play some more ehe!” She laughed and hopped out the window behind him.

They landed at the mouth of the caves, Yoru letting him down from her talons before touching down on the ground beside him. He sprinted into the tunnels with a grin on his face, shouting for any monsters to show up to play. Yoru flew behind him trying to stifle her laughter, he looked like a kid on a sugar high.

“Eeeeehhhh Fugu-chan this is taking foreverrrrrrr” He whined after half an hour in the caves with no appearance of any monsters. “Can’t you use your magic and find one?” he begged. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

“That's not how my magic works Floyd, I can only see through crows, not through rocks. I’m the only bird in these caves so unless there’s a hidden crows nest somewhere I can’t help”

“Huh? Then what good is your unique magic then?” he complained, crossing his arms

“Says the guy who can only deflect magic, wouldn’t stop me taking your head off-” They were interrupted by a low rumbling coming from the path behind them. They turned to the sound, another Overblot monster materializing from the darkness. Floyd cheered, happy that his foe had finally appeared.

“Awe maaaaaan, Floooooyd, you never said it was an overblot monster! I can’t fight this!” Yoru complained as the monster descended on them.

“Eeeh? Why not? This is fun!” Floyd danced out of the way of the monster, hitting it with some magic of his own to keep it away from them.

“I can’t do magic, remember? All I can do is see. My hands and feet won’t do shit to that thing” She pouted, sitting on the ground with a huff, resigned to watch Floyd fight it on his own. He was clearly enjoying himself, hitting it with spell after spell. Yoru watched on in envy, how amazing would it be to be able to do magic like that. She watched him dance around the monster, attacking with reckless abandon, his own unique magic deflecting the attacks thrown at him.

Yoru sighed resting with her head in her hands, eyes following the battle. Floyd really was incredible, so much so it pissed her off. He made it seem so effortless. Fire, grass, water, ice, wind, dark… every kind of magic she’d dreamed of having Floyd was throwing out without a care in the world, this level of effort was nothing to him, when she couldn't even change the colour of a single flower petal. After what seemed like hours the glass head on the monster cracked, it’s ink splashing to the ground. It roared and the walls around them shook.

“Hey Floyd, you should finish up, if this thing collapses the cave around us we’re screwed” she said flatly, watching small rocks fall from the ceiling.

“Okay Fugu-chaaaaan~ Let me show you my special move, just look at how amazing I am!” He unleashed his strongest attack yet, Yoru wasn’t able to conceal her admiration for him. Her jaw dropped.

“Holy shit… you’re actually incredible…” she muttered, more annoyed than ever at how talented he was. The monster crumbled before them, disappearing into ink and sinking back into the ground. Floyd cheered.

“Yaaaayyyy!! That was fun!” he looked exhausted. His hair was a mess and he drenched in sweat, but the grin he wore was one of the biggest Yoru had ever seen. It was quite cute. She nodded at him and held out her arm in case he needed to lean on her, she wasn’t sure how he was still standing after expending so much magic in such a short time. He stretched his arms behind his head, not needing her assistance.

“We should have a fire too! Come on Fugu-chan!” He grabbed her hand and ran from the cave, staggering when they got outside and saw that the sun had already begun to set. “Uwaaahhh I’m tired all of a sudden, carry me Fugu-chan” She laughed. It seemed Floyd wasn’t invincible after all.

She flew to the shore of the lake, setting him down near an old decaying log. Somewhere along their flight he’d fallen asleep. She set to work gathering firewood, setting the wood in a way that would be easy to ignite once he woke up. When that was ready she wandered over to the lake to grab some fish, no sense not eating while they were out. They didn’t have any spices, but grilled fish was simple enough and delicious on it’s own. She wasn’t as proficient as catching fish with her bare hands as Floyd, but it still didn’t take her long before she’d caught half a dozen and brought them back to their impromptu base camp. The sun had fully set by the time she’d gotten the fish onto their skewers and shook Floyd awake so he could start the fire.

“Hmmm? When did I fall asleep?” He whined, confused by his surroundings

“When we were flying over here, you went limp almost immediately after we took off, I almost dropped you” Yoru grinned at him “Now can you get the fire going, I’m starving.” He nodded, using his magic to light the fire as she arranged the fish around it to cook.

“Wait, lemme see your pen” She said suddenly, able to see the once white gem clouded over with black ink in the firelight. She grabbed at it but he snatched it out of reach and shoved it back into his pocket. “Floyd, let me see it” Yoru growled at him, he pouted and handed it to her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it from her if she fought him for it.

“Floyd… that’s a lot of blot… you need to be more careful. If you overblotted I’d have you kill you, I wouldn't be able to stop you with magic”

“Haaaah like you could, you saw how strong I am! Ahaha! What do you know about overblotting anyway, you can barely do magic!” He argued, turning the fish to roast their other sides.

“Hmmm? Didn’t I tell you? I overblotted once as a kid. It sucked”

“As a kid? Did you have magic when you were younger? What happened to it ehe~” He raised an eyebrow at her, curious at how she had lost her magic. She snorted

“No. I got my unique magic really young but I didn’t know what it was so I used it all the time since I didn’t know any better. Dad found me screaming in bed, said I had all these shadowy birds walking over and pecking at me, he still talks about it like it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen.” She rolled her eyes, thinking about Crowley's overly theatrical reactions to the lamest things.

Floyd cringed away from her, throwing his hands up. “Eugh that sounds so gross!” He sat forward again with a smile “But it’s funny knowing even without a lot of magic you can overblot”

“Yea, really funny” She glared at him. “How are you not ranked higher at school though? You’re so amazing it pisses me off”. He smirked at her

“Doing everything I’m supposed to is boring so I just do whatever I want and fail sometimes cause I don’t feel like doing it” He grabbed one of the fish, happily biting into it.

“That must be nice. I wish I could say I’m not jealous of your talent” She bit into her own fish, chewing it more fiercely than was necessary.

“Hmmmm why are you jealous though? You’re really smart too, Fugu-chan” He smiled and chowed down, very much enjoying his meal. Yoru groaned, she wasn't used to compliments.

“...Thanks. ...By the way, didn’t Jade say he wanted to come out here with you next time? Isn’t he going to be mad we came without him?” Floyd's eyes grew wide before settling back to normal

“Eeeehhhh probably, but I wanted to find that monster and Jade wouldn't come with me so it’s his fault anyway” he shrugged, carefully selecting his last fish.

“Maybe he won’t be that mad, it’s not like we really did much mountaineering up here anyway” Yoru shrugged, finishing her meal and throwing sand on the fire. “We should get back though, unlike you, I do have some homework I need to hand in because I’m not allowed to fail”

They landed back in the mirror chamber full of fish and tired from adventure.

“Hey, next time you find a monster make sure it's one I can fight too. I can’t help but want to show off what I can do without magic”

“Kaaaaay~!” Floyd sang, hopping through the mirror that would take him back to Octavinelle.

“Ahh Floyd, you’re back late, did you enjoy your date? You missed dinner, Azul was worried sick about you” Jade smirked at him from across their bedroom. Floyd flopped into his bed, exhausted. Fugu-chan was right, he’d used too much magic today and was still tired despite his earlier nap.

“Aha! Azul wouldn’t worry about something thing like that, besides he would have been mad at me for going to fight a monster and getting my uniform all dirty”

“Oya? A monster? You never mentioned there was a monster on campus” Jade chuckled

“Ehhhh? It wasn’t on campus, me and Fugu-chan went back to Mount Dwarf to fight with the overblot monster in the caves! It was really fun!” Jade slowly turned to glare at Floyd.

“Floyd… you returned to the mountains once again without me” He exhaled dramatically. “You found yourself a girlfriend and completely forgot about little old me, all alone and mountainless” He let out an exaggerated sigh “I can’t believe my own twin would discard me so carelessly, how cruel” Floyd sat up in bed, a frown painted on his face.

“haaaaaaaaahhhh you said you didn’t want to come! You can’t complain about it now”

“Perhaps it is for the best, I wouldn’t want to be a third-wheel after all... I’ll just make you come with me next time I go...” he muttered to himself under his breath

“Ehhh what are you even talking about Jade?” Floyd laid back down and stretched out into his blankets.

“While crashing a date seems like it would be a lot of fun, I don’t believe Yoru-san is very fond of me, and she does have a habit of getting violent when she’s angry. I wouldn’t care to be on the receiving end of those talons.”

“It wasn’t even a date” he complained, rolling away to face the wall. He hadn’t told Jade about his failed confession at Vargas’s weekend camp so the insinuations he and Yoru were dating stung. “...and she’s not even my girlfriend” he muttered into his pillow.

“Fufufu not yet” Jade chuckled to himself as Floyd started snoring.

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #yoru crowley #floyd leech #jade leech #twst #twst fic #twisted wonderland #dumb and dumber

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angeryspaghett · 4 years

Note

Hi there! I saw the post with your WIP dice, and they are GORGEOUS. If this is a personal secret or anything feel free to not answer, but I just started making dice and was really curious how you did the super thin lines in the first photo. It makes the die look like stone and it's really cool.

hello! none of my techniques or learnings in dice making are a well kept secret- I've had so many people help me and teach me many different things in this hobby, and I love to share that knowledge I've acquired!

the technique is called a dirty pour! it can be a bit finicky, and wildly unpredictable in getting a specific look, but each die is unique and beautiful.

things you'll need for a dirty pour:

resin

alcohol inks/resin colorant/mica powders, pretty much whatever colouring agent you want! though, I will admit, dirty pouring with alcohol inks or resin colorant works a lot easier than dirty pouring with powder pigments. (I currently have some in the pressure pot and I worry for them lol)

small pouring cups (if you don't have any, I used those little 3oz paper Dixie cups and cut them in half so they weren't as tall!)

tooth picks

the way you do this is first make sure your resin is runny! mine is usually thick, so I put my part a and part b bottles into a hot water bucket to get it nice and runny before mixing. Once you have your resin mixed, now comes the dirty pouring!

you can leave your base resin clear, or add a color, its up to you! I like dirty pouring over clear, cause it offers a really cool effect where you can see through the dice into little windows and catch little wisps inside. I love that part. but pouring over an opaque color, or even a tinted base is super fun too! that's for you to decide what you want to do. :)

pour your mixed resin into one of those small cups, about enough for 1 die. next, take your choice of ink colours, and put 1 drop of each on top of the resin in your little mixing cup. Do Not Mix These In! you don't want to put the drops directly over top of each other either! though this inevitably will happen as the ink will spread out as soon as you drop it in. I usually do 2 to 3 colours depending on the mood for the set.

take your tooth pick, and drag the colors toward the edge of your cup that you would like to pour from, or if you have those little silicone mixing cups, pull them forward to the little spout. this will ensure all the colors you picked will make it into the die.

nows for the messy part!!!

if you are using sprue molds, you most likely won't be able to pour it directly into the sprue hole. but worry not! I too use sprue molds for dirty pours! simply hold open your mold from your cut opening, and pour directly in there while making circular motions! if you want thicker lines and ribboning, pour closer to your mold. if you want thinner lines and ribboning pour from higher up, you'll get a thinner stream of resin going in which will create those nice thin lines. once your molds are filled, let go and close up the sides of your molds using tape! some WILL squish out the sides, thats okay. part of why the method is called a dirty pour in my opinion lol

if you're using cap or squish molds, just pour directly into the opening! the high pour and low pour for thinner lines and ribboning are still the same as it is for sprue molds. :)

I always refresh my small pouring cup with resin and colors after each die, the only time I use the same cup for more than 1 die is if I'm pouring the d4, and thats cause its so small and a fresh cup with new ink is almost always too much color for it.

and thats about it! I hope this makes sense. I might make a how to video soon for dirty pouring, cause I know this post got uhh... a little long.

if you have any questions about anything I mentioned please feel free to ask! I love to help any dice maker I can with the knowledge I've acquired on my own adventures.

and remember to practice safety when making! such as a respirator while working with resin, always wear gloves as resin is a sticky mess and its not good for your skin, and work in a well ventilated area! :)

@with-both-my-hearts

also I'm so sorry if you asked this ages ago, I haven't gotten an ask in ages so I rarely check my inbox 😅

these were all poured for the same set, and all wildly different from each other. every one you make with a dirty pour will be so unique, and so fun!

#dice making #dnd dice #rpg dice #dungeons and dragons #dice #dice ask #dice pouring #my posts

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drawmealama · 4 years

Text

Painting Tutorial

Disclaimers !!! (important)

I’m not an expert or teacher.

There is an infinite number of ways you can paint. THERE IS NO WRONG WAY TO PAINT! This is how I do it / how I was taught to do it.

I’m doing this (during mars 2020) because I’m getting restless during the global quarantine. If you want to paint but you don’t have the supplies: PLEASE don’t go out to buy supplies. This is not a necessity so please stay safe. Also, if you’re considering buying art supplies on the internet ask yourself if it is necessary (like if you have an assignment/it’s part of your job/...) and try to minimize the strain on delivery services for non-essential supplies.

This post will still exist in a few months. I’ll even self-reblog it at the end of the lockdown so that, if you’re still interested, it’ll be here.

I’m going to make fan art for @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (madsthenerdygirl on AO3) and her witcher fic “Even Steel Blades Need Fire” that you can find here.

I’m trying to make a non-spoiler piece, but I’ll talk about the fic (so spoilers!) during the process. If you have not read her fic and you don’t want to get spoiled, go read it before you continue.

I started painting two years ago, and I remember vividly my struggles in the beginning. Painting can be confusing, and I am going to assume that people with no experience are going to read this.

I’ll be explaining the painting process in-depth so LONG POST (I guess) and stay tuned for updates !!! (yay)

I think that’s all.

Let’s start !!!

Here we have it all! All the supplies (and some) I use when painting with acrylic paint.

First, note that you don’t need all these supplies to paint. Most of the time I do it with less, but this is a tutorial so...

1. Paper

Good news, you don't need to have a canvas to paint !!! You can just use paper (cool right?!).

Any size is ok, but I prefer to paint big (this paper here is on the smaller side. I usually paint on “grand aigle” paper or “double grand aigle”. Which translates to “great (?) eagle”. Look it up!).

Here I’ll be using a 65x50 cm piece (called “format raisin”/ “grapes format”...)

I advise to use 200gms (or 200g/m2) or more but 180g can work too.

225gms and 250gms are my personal favourites.

2. Something to protect the surface you are painting on.

when I started painting I was super messy. I had no control over the paintbrush/the paint/etc..

I recommend using something (cardboard, plastic bag (not the best...), or newspaper) to cover up where you're going to paint.

The smaller your paper, the more likely you are to spill paint next to it.

On that note, when I started painting I used to wear a chemistry lab coat to protect my clothes.

It can save you when you least expect it (read: the whole bottle of paint falls and explodes everywhere). Now I stopped doing that (bad) but I don't really care about my clothes and also painting in your underwear when you're alone is fun.

remember to remove any jewellery (RINGS!!!) (you don't want to scrape off dried paint of off jewellery).

Don't wear gloves. (acrylic paint washes of with soap and hot water). Plus gloves are going to make your hands sweat and I don't recommend wearing them for long periods.

have a towel nearby or something at your disposal (but only use old stuff. you will probably never get all the paint stains off. I use my old lab coat.)

where you are painting is important too. When I started painting I liked using an easel. If you don't have an easel, that's ok. I don't have access to one during this quarantine business, so I'm doing sans-easel.

Also, I prefer to paint on the ground or on a table (depending on the cleanness of the ground and the paper size. if it's too big for one table, I sometimes use two side by side but it's not really practical).

Also with bigger papers, an easel can be impractical = you can't reach the top/bottom easily and you tire very easily.

Here is something my teacher used to tell us:

“Don't sit on a chair.”

Explanation: when using a chair your paintings tend to look "tired" or "sloppy" (Idk how to describe it, but for better results try to stand up)

however if you are doing:

a big piece

painting for a long time

or you have medical issues that make standing up for a long time painful

then I recommend either having a chair nearby to take "sitting" breaks or painting on the ground.

In all cases take breaks!

Second advice from my teacher:

“Don't listen to music while you paint.”

Explanation: when painting you want to avoid "coloring" with brushstrokes that go left-right and up-down all the time. when listening to your music you will unintentionally start following the rhythm of the music with your strokes and making them repetitive. Similarly, I noted that I'm slower when listening to music because I tend to focus more on the music than on what I am painting.

BUT, I know someone who makes these beautiful, giant paintings on bedsheets, which take like weeks to complete and with lots of details. And guess what? Not only does she sit down but she also listens to music while doing so.

In conclusion, it's up to you. but if you struggle painting: try sitting down/standing up/ taking more breaks/ turn on/off your music...

3. Paint pallets

Ok, so here again it's up to personal preferences.

you can use a

plastic/wood/glass pallet (that you re-use every time)

or you can use

disposable paint pallets/a piece of cardboard/paper plates (that you reuse a couple of times before throwing away).

At first, I started to use plastic pallets but I kept trying to clean them at the end of each lesson and I was losing so much time... (note: I found that bigger pallets with no little "holes" work the best).

Problems:

If the paint is dry it’s super difficult to get it off without soap or other types of cleaning products.

You use a lot of water to clean it and paint gets in the sewers.

An alternative is disposable pallets like on the picture (or cardboard/paper plates). you don't have to clean them, it's super cheap/free and a lot lighter.

Problems:

you can't use them forever and will need to throw it away (or recycle them into weird paintings).

If you use straight-up cardboard and try to mix a lot of water in your paint it will make a mess and destroy your pallet.

4. Water dish

Anything that holds water and that you don't use to drink is ok. Remember you will probably never get all the paint off.

5. Paintbrushes

Okay, this is the weird part where I tell you that "paintbrush" is "pinceau" in french and that the word comes from the Latin "penicillum" which means "small tail" or "penis". Also, there's this text (of which I don't remember de name or the author) but it discusses the implication of artist's preferences for certain types of paintbrushes when you compare them to penises and it's silly and fun but now I need to talk about the paintbrushes I use and I don't want to make this awkward, so just forget what I just wrote there.

Let's see. I grouped and ranked each brush from A to G depending on how much I use them.

A) My personal favourites, that I use all the time: they are mostly round brushes.

There's a big one that's actually to paint walls but works well when I need to cover big surfaces

then a few tiny/flats with rounded tips for detail (called ”Filbert”)

a couple of medium/rounds

and this flat squared tipped (called “Flat” or “Bright”) for when I need to get clean edges.

B) Medium/flat and square tipped brushes I use the same way as the big round.

C) These ones I use when the others are already in use and I need a clean brush. the problem is that some of them have these synthetic bristles that are super bendy and I don't like it.

D) Some more small brushes for detail. I sometimes use them for watercolour because they can hold a lot of water. See how they have a shorter handle? Long handle = for easel painting (because then you can get further away). The small handle = not for easel painting.

To be honest I don't really care. it's not super important (but I prefer the long handle ones).

E) These are really tiny small round brushes that can be used for even smaller detail (but I don't use them a lot).

F) I never use this paintbrush. the bristles are super soft and fur-like and see how they're pointing outward instead of inwards, and don’t make a point? yeah, I can't do anything with that.

G) Please, PLEASE, for the love of god do not use these types of brushes with acrylic paint. they're for ink painting and calligraphy and other stuff. They're super expensive and a pain to wash. I've seen people use them with paint and I don't judge but personally, it just feels wrong to use them with paint.

General tips to keep in mind when buying brushes:

Size matters.

The bigger the better.

Hog bristles = texture + (in general) better quality + stiffer

Synthetic or nylon bristles = cheaper + bendier + smoother finish.

If you are getting a pack of brushes try to look for one with more of the bigger brushes than smaller ones.

You don't need every size but you need a couple under 10, one or two around 20 and one 30 or 40.

Brushes are expensive. Like, think book price range (where I buy them they are around 15 euro or around 20 euro).

Any free brush is a good brush.

Handles don't matter.

General tips to care for brushes:

Wash your brushes.

Use soap (dish soap is fine). I've seen people use shampoo and I'm sure it works but for acrylic paint (= water-based paint), it's a bit overkill.

Let them dry laying flat.

Don't let them sit too long in the water. you don't want to weaken the wood or glue or metal that is holding everything together.

Handles don't matter (just keep a picture or a reference of your brush before it gets covered in paint and you can't tell what size/brand it is anymore).

6. Paint

The fun part!

Here are the colours I am going to use (I'm not using all the colours i have and I tried to make a varied but coherent pallet).

(from top to bottom, left to right.)

Titanium White (neo acryl, Gerstaecker, 102)

Black (neo acryl, Gerstaecker,704)

Prussian blue phthalo (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 566)

Quinacridone pink (I love art, Gerstaecker, 350)

Reflex rose (I love art acrylic, Gerstaecker, 384)

Primary yellow (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 275)

Raw sienna (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 234)

Burnt sienna (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 411)

Burnt umber (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 409)

Vandyke brown (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 403)

Carmine (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 318)

General tips to keep in mind when buying paint, or how to choose colours when you don't want to spend too much on paint:

You CAN NOT paint with only primary colours !!!

NO magenta (it's like using 100% red. Also paint is pigment not light so magenta does not equal red)

Get more white and black paint (you can start with small quantities but these two getts used the most. I've also seen people buy "handyman paint" in white to get large quantities for cheaper but I never tried before.)

Pick darker colours over lighter ones

and pick lighter colours over mid-tones (I will go over this later when I start painting)

If you're like me and don't have tons of money to spend on paint, avoid paints with double colour names like "greenish-yellow", get yellow and get green and get white and then mix! (so you have green, yellow and everything in-between...)

When in doubt pick colours with:

fancy names (royal blue, ultramarine blue,...)

natural pigments names (cobalt, carmine, sienna,..)

well known names (TITANIUM white !!!)

artist’s names (Vandyke brown, Klein blue, ...)

Exciting and unusual names (what intrigues you? If you go: wtf is "Quinacridone pink?", "Phthalocyanine emerald" "Vermillon?", then pick that.)

I know I said don't use primary colours but you NEED to mix colours. Go crazy! (note: straight from the tube colour can be used but in moderation or with good reasons..)

BUT You NEED brown, don't try to make it yourself

you DON'T need purple (I'll explain later)

(fluorescent colours can give you unexpected results when mixing. (I bought the fluorescent pink thinking I'd only use a small amount but now I'm kinda running out. And I don't even like pink that much...))

7. Something to pin down your paper

You only need this if you are going to work on something not horizontal.

Any type of pins (that can support the weight of the paper)

repositionable tape

or any kind of masking tape (that does not ruin paper when removed)

8. references

(The references on the picture are from another project.)

If you're not painting from life I recommend printing out your references over just having it on your phone or laptop or any screen, because

when you print them you are using pigment

and then when you are painting you're looking at pigment and not pixels/light.

So it's actually easier to SEE the colors you have to use (and it can improve your results when painting with PIGMENT).

Also, try to print them as big as you can.

Right now I don't have a printer with me and I can't, like, get it printed or anything (not only because of the lockdown but because this is witcher stuff I'm going to make so I'm going to need reference photos of the actors and everything... yeah, no).

I'm just going to have my refs on a screen...

Hope some of you made it this far. If so, congratulation!

(I tried to make this as clear as possible (English is not my first language and I struggle with writing)).

#painting tutorial #art tutorial #the witcher #witcher fanart #long post #long post cw #tldr: look at the pictures. That is what i'm going to use to make witcher art in this tutorial #lama draws

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shinxngopaliu · 3 years

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⟨ WONG KAHEI. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, LIXUE KARISMA LIU is actually a descendent of H E P H A E S T U S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-TWO year old BIOMEDICAL ENGINEERING MAJOR from SHENZHIEN, HONG KONG has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite CHARASMATIC & INTENSE.

Yeah its Min with the second character. This time Ill try to keep it short and sweet

CHARACTER BASICS

Full Name: Lixue Karisma Liu

Nickname: Karisma, XueXue, Little Liu

Age: 22

Gender: cis female

Pronouns: she/her

Ethnicity: Chinese

Nationality:Hong Konger

Education: High School Diploma,

Hometown:ShenZhien

Divine Parentage: Hephaestus

Written Aesthetics: Hands covered in ink and grease, poprocks sparking in ones mouth, the sight of a small light frame,a loud scream from atop a carousel, An angry face clutching a thread bare teddy bear

CHARACTER APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Wong Kahei

Height: 5′3

Hair Colour: Varies

Eye Colour: Brown

Dominant Hand: Ambextrixious

Distinguishing Features: Cleft Lip and scarred eyebrows

BIOGRAPHY (bullying tw)

It was quick and whirlwind, the romance that it is. Karisma’s mom has been a nursing playing pool she whispered some tricks to help the god win. She didnt think much of it. He was nt half bad to her.

She did get pregnant and headed on maternity leave. Somehow by luck she met a fellow doctor during her pregnancy, he fell for her and was willing to take care of the kid

That would be easier said then done as the kid was more rambunxious then intended. Always running around and piecing things back together. They thought it was the terrible twos but little did they know it was much more

(Tw)They enrolled Karisma in private school, hoping that a quality education would help her find her way through life, sadly she did get made fun of for any little thing. One school mate even asked why she smiled so oddly.

She buried herself in other hobies manly robotics and metal music. She was able to find a few friends but she was well aware she wasn’t liked by many. Even her friends admit that sometimes she seems a bit too strange (Tw end)

All that would change when she as trapped by a monster. She experience her senses flaring up as they never had before. Karisma was struggling in her net when the figure snarled at her and muttered the words I got you little demigoddess. And why was her smile so crooked, just like her father

Thats all it took for her to set the net on fire. There was white hot flames she herself never experience. She just remembered setting the monster aflame before running. She remembered running fast and heading home. The subway only made her ruinmante.

Karisma was angry, confused, and scared. She started crying to her father as she confessed the events. It was her mother that finally came clean with the truth. The man she knew all her lief wasnt her father but someone else. When Karisma asked for his name, her mother admitted he only went by H and hasnt contected her since.Only a satryr intruppted her line of questioning.

The satry tried to explain better than her parents about the demigod hood but she was placated enough to come with him. Karisma looked at her parents in disappointment- she really wished they told her soooner.

Camp Halfblood was diffrent though. There was something that contrasted against the colder private school she went too. The minute she entered the gates the ends of her pigtails set aflame in excitement. She was able to talk to more people without judgment. Tough the question remained who her father was,

The claim just happened, seeing the iron hammer over her head. She felt a lot of emotions but anger being one of them. She as secretly hoping for Hermes or Apollo but she got the one with the temper. One that she didnt realize she had. Sure she was to get close to them but the first night she slammed the door and hid under her covers screaming.

She grew to realize that Heph was her father and that maybe he had reasons to not tell her. In a very strongly worded letter she asked why, her father replied a year later. For your protection. Please understand. Se was hesitant to write back since.

Of course she went on quests. the heph id with the flaming hair and sharper tongue. She liked them but wanted to be a leader instead of a big three kid.

Now that shes in college she accepted some things to a degree. Though she found a new outlet to get her anger out: Metal Music

PERSONALITY

Appears very eccentric but is actually a no nonsense type. She is very blunt and genuine with her feelings. A scary critic especially when it comes to obscure music genre and mechanics. However she will help you out, just don’t expect a smile on her face. Very few people have seen her smile due to past instances of being ridiculed, and opts for a half smile. Is self-conscious to a degree, but not to the point she won’t show her face. Pretends she knows what she wants in life despite the reality she’s just as confused as everyone else. Overcompensates. To those that dont know her she can look very tough or even haughty, but she doesnt care due to judgement. She knows shes a Heph kid and proud of it, it doesnt mean she wont try her other pursuits before she graduates.

POWERS

Pyrokenesis - this is fire strongest power yet its very emotional based. With Karisma’s application, she has used for thermal, melding, and sometimes destructive purposes. She has also used it the way of effects during her performances with her Experimental Metal Group- The Demi-Disasters Hence her Stage name Red Hot Karisma . Primary weakness however would involve the water and freezing point.

Trap Sensing - This is her second most strongest abilities. She can sense and disable traps within a mile distance. She developed this at a younger age, when she was walking through the subway and the capital city. She can’t sense every trap such as those blessed with other god abilities.

Techenkenis - Very limited due to her personal lack of discipline and patience. She can communicate with her own devices, but other peoples devices takes days even months to figure. Rather than use her own power she prefers to use her own instincts.

Enhanced Combat - Very defense like and agility like tactics. Can be on the offense but makes her feel odd doing it. Has some informal training on weak points of the body courtesy of her mother.

OPTIONAL INFO

Extracirculars:

TBD

Housing:

Hephaestus hous

Connections:

Half siblings

best friend

course mates

rivals

Members for her group the Dem-Disasters

People to debate and argue

ees and ohs the whole shebang

More stuff coming soon

#euintro #bullying tw #tw bullying.#bullying cw #just to be safe #anyay love my tiny choatic gay thx

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randomoranges · 3 years

Text

these blurbs are recycled. back in 2015, i had written these for another teacher au verse for another fandom. i never got around to posting them for the other fandom [i don’t think so. if anything they’re on my old LJ somewhere, but anyways.] i decided to re-read them and update them a little. these are based on true events and some wishful thinking.

the wishful thinking part is that i really would like to have an Edward lamao.

Teaching AU

Planning

Étienne had no idea what it was that had possessed him, when he agreed to this contract. Sure, he had a degree that said he could teach, yes, he actually did want to work, but he had no idea how to organise his lessons and the curriculum only helped him so much. He could do anything he wanted and the idea was overwhelming to say the least. That was the way art was – basically, he could have the kids do whatever project he so desired, so long as they ended up learning whatever it was the Progressions of Learning said. It didn’t matter how it was the students learned about primary colours, so long as they did. Étienne would have preferred some guidance – some left over projects from the year before to at least get him started and guided.

He was still a little shell-shocked. This was his first contract, the staff was nice, but the school was enormous and he felt as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. It didn’t help that he was the only art teacher in the building and therefore had no other art colleagues on hand, (why had he agreed, why?) He would have liked to been able to exchange ideas with someone else – someone who knew the program and had done this for a few years – who knew the school.

Étienne sighed and tried to calm down his racing heart. He hated feeling like an incompetent. He could come up with projects easily, but – would the students enjoy them? Would they be able to do them? Would they breeze through the project in thirty minutes instead of the four periods he had planned? And then there was the grading – the groups – so many groups, so many projects and thus, so much grading. How did one manage it all? How did teachers not sign their souls over when they started?

There were high hopes riding on him and he didn’t want to disappoint.

If he was honest with himself, Étienne would admit that he had spent the past two weeks fretting during sleepless nights over this job and that so far, it was more stress than fun. He hated this. He missed his free time. He missed going home and doing something for himself. Something fun. He was always bone tired when he got home and there was always something work related to do; e-mails, grading, planning, preparing, thinking – thinking – thinking. Even when he tried to sleep, his brain would kick into gear and play over the days lessons and over think the upcoming ones. There was no break. Ever.

But he wasn’t one who gave up.

He would show them, damn it. He would show the man who hired him that he had made the right choice.

Even if it meant more sleepless nights and more after hours at school trying to keep his head above water.

Étienne sighed and opened up another tab on his computer, looking for some inspiration. At least the school was quiet now.

Printer

Edward didn’t know why, but somehow or other, he had decided that this year, he would make the new science exam, since apparently, the one the school had used last year was garbage and he had So Many Great Ideas.

Even though he had three other colleagues who equally taught fifth grade science, he had volunteered to do it, to show that he was willing to be part of the team, help out, and get involved. Or something equally wonderful and daft.

That was fine, except now he found himself alone, in the teacher’s room, on a Friday night, two hours after classes had let out, trying to coax life into the printer.

He wanted to go home.

These exams needed to be printed now, so that they could be looked over on Monday and then distributed by Tuesday. Therefore, now was not the time for the printer to stop working, thank you very much.

Edward would have gone to a different printer, but this was the only decent photocopier that could staple and hole punch the documents as well. He would have asked another teacher, but it was past six and no one was left in the school. Well, no one he knew of. No one in their right mind, really.

He was tired, hungry, on the brink of a nervous breakdown because of this stupid printer, stressed, anxious and overworked. He had piles of marking to do this weekend and he had lessons to plan. To top it all off, today had been a day six and he hated those. (It was the one day in his schedule where he didn’t have a specialist and of course it fell on a Friday, when the kids were more excitable. He’d tried to make his afternoon easier by putting on a movie, but that had been met with only partial success.)

It was a lot. It was too much. Why had he ever agreed to any of this? Why did anyone ever agree to this? And most importantly, how could anyone ever even think that teachers’ had it easy? This was anything but. Sure, he loved his students, would do anything for them, but.

He let out a frustrated cry and slammed his hand on the printer. There was no way the paper was still jammed or that the ink cartridge was low. He tried rebooting the machine, but he got the same error message as before.

He was going to give up.

He had let everyone down.

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten so involved; he should have kept his mouth shut.

He should have minded his own business.

He should have – he let out a mangled sob and then heard a soft cough from the door.

Edward spun around quickly and wiped his eyes. He wasn’t alone anymore.

He squinted at the door and saw the new art teacher – Étienne. What was he doing here? At this time? Why wasn’t he home?

“Late night?” He asked, all smiles and casualness, but Edward had a feeling that Étienne was just hiding his own exhaustion behind his friendly smile.

“No – I mean – yes, I mean...” He looked at the printer and wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Printer problems?”

“Yes... and I was almost done. Well, for the day. Not like we’re ever done.”

Étienne laughed and stepped inside the dimly lit office. There had been daylight before, but he hadn’t bothered turning the lights earlier, too absorbed in his work.

“Mind if I take a look?”

“Go ahead. It can’t get any worse than this. Although, if you fix it, I might just want to kiss you.” He joked and then realised how that sounded. He was about to apologise for the comment, but Étienne offered him a smile and a soft laugh instead. Edward stepped aside and let Étienne have a look. Étienne turned on the lights and Edward squinted at the sudden bright lights.

Étienne looked at the printer and hummed in concentration. He opened the tray, checked for a paper jam, and Edward wanted to tell him that he had done all of that already, but, well, Étienne could have the pleasure of finding that out for himself.

It took Étienne a little over an hour, during which they exchanged polite conversation. Edward tried to print his document, when it seemed that it would work, but every time, without fault, the printer stuttered or printed out blanks, much to both of their discouragement.

Finally, after four threats of setting the damned thing on fire, three litanies of curses and one break to cool off, the photocopier finally spat out Edward’s document.

Edward first kissed the stack of freshly printed-paper and then launched himself into Étienne’s arms.

Art Room

Edward looked at the small mountain of exams he still had to grade and groaned. He hated the end of term for many different reasons and this was definitively one of them.

He had more grading than he cared to do and the report cards needed to be filled in afterwards as if he didn’t have enough to do already.

It was a good thing he was on top of his grading.

He could only imagine what it would be like if he wasn’t.

Actually, he didn’t want to imagine.

At least he only had twenty-eight students to deal with. He had no idea how Étienne managed. He’d drown. He’d never be ahead. There was no way. Sometimes, he looked at Étienne correct projects and he wondered how he did it – how he decided what was full marks and what deserved less. Étienne had explained it to him once; had shown him his very detailed rubric, but even then.

Edward threw his red pen down and fished out his cell phone. He needed a break. He wanted to go home and forget about all of this. He wanted to pretend he was a regular man with a regular 8 to 4 job that didn’t follow him home. He wanted to go on a date with his boyfriend and not pass out on the sofa by nine-thirty like some ancient dinosaur man.

He opened up his conversation with Étienne, typing out a new message quickly.

“Are you almost done?” He typed out. Maybe, if Étienne was nearly done, he could use it as an excuse to head home.

The reply came a few seconds later, “Not even close. You?”

Edward sighed; so much for an earlier night. “Likewise. I need a break. Mind if I pop by yours for a bit?”

“God, please. I need a distraction something fierce.”

Edward put down his phone and stretched luxuriously, letting out a groan. His neck was stiff and his shoulders were sore, but standing up felt good.

Étienne’s art room was two floors below his own classroom and they had made the art room their own little meeting point when they wanted to sit together away from everyone and everything else. The art room’s doors had no windows, there was a comfortable plush couch in the back of it, and there weren’t any other classrooms beyond it. Therefore, it was the perfect place for some quiet time together.

Edward made his way towards the other room and took a moment to listen to the quiet of the building. There was something soothing and a little eerie about a quiet school in the dead of the night. He thought it was calming. It was different from the regular hustle and bustle of the day, with the students running down the stairs after class, before class, during class being their rowdy selves. Now, he could hear himself think and breathe.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Étienne greeted him at the door with a pleased little smile.

Edward couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He liked the fact that he could meet up with his boyfriend like this. He had friends who wondered how it was they ever had anything to talk about when they worked at the same place. It worked for them. They made it work. If anything, it meant that Étienne understood his work reality and vice versa. They both knew how demanding it was to teach and so, they never fought over the other “being lazy and not having done a chore” or something. Edward liked that they had the morning and evening commute together, even if they didn’t say anything. Just being together and sharing the same space was enough.

They exchanged tired, fond smiles and Edward closed the door behind him, before pulling Étienne close for a hug, leaning back against the door.

“God, you look how I feel.” He told Étienne.

Étienne laughed and gave him a one over. “I can say the same about you, Murphy, and yet you’re still a sight for sore eyes.”

“Kind as always, Maisonneuve.”

“Only for you.” Étienne said, soft, and closed the distance between them, cupping Edward’s cheeks with his hands to press a kiss to the corner of Edward’s mouth.

“No. Kiss me proper, damn it. I need something to survive this hell night.” Edward pouted.

Étienne’s laugh was more of a rasp, but he was never one to refuse Edward a kiss. He pulled him closer and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, looking into those eyes he loved so much, before he kissed him properly this time. Edward sighed against him, held him closer and chased another kiss when Étienne made to pull back.

This was by far the greatest perk of working with his boyfriend. It wasn’t as if they used every chance they got to make-out, but it was nice to know that they could. That when Étienne needed a hug they could sneak one in behind closed doors and that when they were both doing their usual unpaid overtime, they could indulge in a little moment or two to make the night a little easier.

After Hours

Parent-teacher interviews were finally over and the desks and chairs had been put away. Tomorrow was a PED day, but at least it meant a reprieve from the kids, even if they still needed to be in at the same time and then have to sit through meetings that could always be summed up in an e-mail but never were.

Even though Étienne was exhausted and he wanted nothing more but curl up in bed and sleep until spring, there was a get together in the staff room and he could go for a little socialising. It wasn’t as if he had time to see his friends anymore anyways.

Being the new teacher, he hadn’t really gotten the chance to make new friends, but Edward was there and so he figured he could hang out with him. If anything, there was free booze from the looks of it and that in itself would make this a little more interesting.

Luckily, being the art teacher meant that even if he didn’t really know the other teachers, they knew of him and that he existed in the school. They all exchanged polite hellos and congratulated themselves on surviving the night, before toasting to that.

Étienne found Edward by the back of the room, sitting on one of the couches. He seemed to be engrossed in a conversation with the other fifth grade teachers and Étienne figured he might as well join them, even if just to sit somewhere.

“Excellent, I thought you had left.” Edward said with a bright grin and Étienne thought that maybe this wasn’t Edward’s first drink, judging by the pink of his cheeks.

“Nah, you’re my ride home, or did you forget?” He joked. Honestly, the rides home and to school were a life saver. He needed to get Edward a proper Christmas thank you gift just for that. And also because Edward had offered him friendship when it seemed as though he would be alone in this new school and drown in his own feelings.

They exchanged a few anecdotes from the night, until one of the gym teachers showed up with a special bottle of whiskey and a stack of mismatched teacups.

“Looks like things are going to get interesting!” Edward grinned at him. Étienne could only nod as he was handed a cup.

The janitor came by to kick them out around eleven, when he had to arm the school. They didn’t mind, really, since they did want to head home and they did have to show up to school the following day, even if the idea of calling in sick and sleeping in seemed oh so alluring.

Étienne’s head was spinning a little and he wasn’t sure if it had to do with the extra cup of whiskey or the fact that Edward had been pressed close to his side, all evening long, with their legs touching and shoulders bumping into each other. However, for once in his life, he was happy to have the cold November air blast him in the face when they stepped out.

If anything, it had been an excellent way to end the evening and he had connected with a few other teachers. Especially Edward. Edward was fast turning into a potentially Real Friend. Friend he could meet up with outside of school type.

“You ready to head home?” Edward asked, bundling up in his scarf and coat. Étienne liked the rosy tinge to his cheeks and wondered if it was the cold, the booze, or a blush. For half a second Étienne had a vision of going to home to someone – of going back home with Edward and he mourned the fact that he wasn’t – that there was no one home waiting for him and to kiss him goodnight.

“Yeah; I’m beat. You?”

“I’m okay. I guess I’ll pick you up tomorrow? Around 7h30?” At least he could sleep in an extra thirty minutes.

“Sure looks like it. Wanna grab lunch during break?” He threw out, feeling bold. They’d never done lunch before. They kept it at the lifts, which were already nice, even if sometimes they were quiet. Edward seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. His cheeks taking on an interesting shade of pink that Étienne wasn’t sure if it had to do with the cold, the booze, or something else.

“Sounds like a plan.” He finally said and nodded to himself.

Étienne grinned feeling light-headed and giddy.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #au #ficlet #teacher au

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landeg · 4 years

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31 Days of Apex: A Retrospection

I participated in the incredible #31DaysOfApex challenge hosted on Twitter, where fans created new content for every day of July based on a one-word prompt. I’ve signed up for/started lots of similar challenges in the past but always ended up having to drop out or trail off before the end... but this time, I managed to complete something for every day of the challenge!

My only goal was to make something by each day’s deadline, and it was a really interesting exercise both in technical skill and also in my management of not only my time, but my expectations and energy. Below, I go into more detail behind each piece.

To preface; the beginning of this challenge coincided with the beginning of a new personal time-management exercise where, for 5/7 days a week, I would only go on the computer at night. Combined with the deadline, this had an interesting effect on my time management and the quality of certain pieces.

Day 1 - Memory

From the start, I wanted to use the challenge as an opportunity to do more studies and to push myself wherever possible. This was the first piece I did and I had more time to work on it, so I used it as a digital painting study. I still think it’s a strong piece and it’s probably my favourite of the month. Symbolically, this character’s backstory doesn’t match up with her own memories, so the idea is she’s missing information she can’t quite place or remember, and this both scares and comforts her.

Day 2 - Blood

Another digital painting and lighting study that didn’t work out as well as the first, mostly due to time constraints meaning I couldn’t scrap it and start again. While I don’t like how it turned out, I did learn a lot. The character on the right is a field medic, and my intent was to show the calm after a successful rescue.

Day 3 - Mercy

Some days I relied more on the humour of a piece’s concept than the skill of its execution, though I also liked how this piece turned out artistically. After two days of intense studies, though, this was very quick and easy for me to turn out as it relied on existing skills.

Day 4 - Prize

This one thankfully came together very quickly, which I credit to the two previous painting studies making it much easier to achieve what I wanted. The character is searching for the disembodied head of the man who killed her parents, who is now acting as a robot, hence the vaguely half-machine-half-human silhouette in her hand.

Day 5 - Family

Another quick, simple illustration under a time crunch. The character framed by the nameless foreground figures has no memory of herself or her family.

Day 6 - Noise

For some pieces where I was under a time crunch, I experimented in an opposite direction; instead of studies, I played loosely with different techniques/brushes/etc to see what came out. This was a lineless style I ended up employing a lot when short on time. The piece pictured here was just one of four alternate colourways, presented in a pop-art style. The character is almost always depicted with thick coverings over her ears, so I thought she might be sensitive to auditory overload. This particular piece was retweeted by the character’s voice actress!

Day 7 - Mask

More relying on humour for lack of time/a better idea. A fun experiment in colour, though.

Day 8 - Healing

Another technically “easy” piece but with a stronger concept. It was actually pretty hard to get the reflection & condensation elements balanced right. The character pictured has a narrative thread relating to an old ex he has trouble moving on from.

Day 9 - Weapon

While obviously another joke, and made to be finished quickly, it was surprisingly difficult to get the duct tape and knife to read clearly without over-cluttering the lineless image. This little ‘bot is a drone used by one of the playable characters to hack areas of the map; it’s not NORMALLY an offensive weapon. This image was promo’d in a video stream by the character’s voice actor!

Day 10 - Truth

I only had less than an hour to finish this one by the deadline, but I still tried to experiment with silhouette and colour. It was surprisingly hard to get the interior silhouette to be legible. The outer silhouette is a playable character (not easily readible unless you’re familiar with his design) and the inner silhouette is his sister, whose disappearance he is trying to investigate.

Day 11 - Shield

A fun, self-indulgent one. Had a blast simplifying the game’s characters down into little caricatures. The character in the centre has abilities related to shields and protection, so many other people were drawing him for the prompt; I wanted to try and flip it, so I picked other characters he would be friendly with, and picked a non-lethal, lighthearted setting.

Day 12 - Ruins

Short on time so did a quick lighting study. A recent game plot has changed one of the areas of the map, submerging it in water and leaving it to “ruin”.

Day 13 - Hero

Another painting study. Really didn’t like how this one turned out, but had to turn in something, and I did learn a lot in the process. If I’d had more time I probably would’ve scrapped it and started again. This characters had recently been revealed to have been manipulated by another character who used gas-based offenses, whom she admired.

Day 14 - Rest

I was going to be away from mt computer until after the deadline, so I decided to make a traditional piece. I ended up enjoying it so much I tried to take the time to do a few more traditional pieces later. This piece was sort of a comedy of errors; I had to do it while I was out, and the pen I had brought with me to ink my sketch ran out, so I had to make do with a blue ballpoint pen, and I was missing several colours of coloured pencil. I think the finished piece reflects how rushed it was, and it did’t meet my concept, but I do still like it.

Day 15 - Skull

Another quick one but I wanted to experiment with a different line style. Wanted a sort of “graffiti” effect. One of this character’s skins includes a skull-shaped mask.

Day 16 - Growth

Extremely quick play on words because I didn’t have the time to work on anything meaningful and couldn’t think of anything better!

Day 17 - Home

Another traditional piece, this time by choice and with more time. Markers. It looks extremely like some janky art school homework on 2 point perspective because it extremely is. Perspective and backgrounds are very difficult for me - they just don’t “click” - but I had a lot of fun with this one. I kept my mistakes intact because I didn’t want to edit it too much. A lot about the technical perspective is wrong, but I think I achieved the “mood” I wanted. This location is a bar owned by one of the player characters where many of the other characters are shown to meet.

Day 18 - Sky

Very happy with how this one turned out, even though there are still lots of problems. Markers again. There’s a lot I would fix next time, and I think technically it’s lacking, but there are some specific areas I feel happy to have achieved, such as the almost brushed texture of the curved metal above his shoulder and the values of the shadow/reflections on the underside of the head piece. I’m also happy with how I was able to draw from my shoulder rather than my wrist when inking the curved lines, something I struggle with.

Day 19 - Target

An experiment in pushing the lineless style I’d already been playing with for a stronger likeness. The pose and expression in this could both be pushed more but I like the result. This character had just learned that one of the other players, whom she had trusted, was actually sharing her secrets with her enemy, and she didn’t know which one it was.

Day 20 - Friendship

I had this one concepted from when I first looked over the prompts. It was a fun challenge trying to simplify all the elements into the lineless, blocky style while being legible. This character has a strained relationship with one of his friends, and finally pushed her too far with his selfishness, and she now no longer responds to him.

Day 21 - Scar

Quick joke. This character was introduced briefly as a red herring for another character before being killed off. He was stabbed through the chest by another character’s hand, hence the scar pattern.

Day 22 - Dream

I wasn’t sure about this one while I was making it but I ended up liking how it turned out. I wanted to capture the character’s robotic legs bent at an unnaturally straight 90 degrees, like a Barbie doll. The flat background and lighting make it feel like an indoor stage. The little “electric sheep” are inspired by iDogs.

Day 23 - Meal

After a few days of not having time to really spend on any piece, it was fun to get to spend time on concepting and composing this. I always admired these kinds of watercolour-like food illustrations and this is the first time I’ve had any success in creating one myself. I concepted and sketched out the individual items traditionally before working out the composition within the box digitally. Each food item/utensil is inspired by the different characters’ design elements. Only two of the now-current characters are excluded due to plot reasons. In particular, I like how one of the character’s dome-shaped shields acts as the base and cover of the box.

Day 24 - Hobby

Wasn’t a fan of how this one turned out. I think the likeness is a bit off, and his facial anatomy is skewed. But I also like how the general composition, tone, and bee turned out. This character’s concept art originally imagined them as a beekeeper who would use smoke to fight.

Day 25 - Fear

An incredibly rushed piece that I intended to go back in and add more detail to, similar to day 4, but I actually took a step back and decided I liked the blocky, flat-colour version. This character is the youngest of four, all of whom are MIA or worse, along with his father, and his mother is losing her memory. He’s talking to her through a handheld holographic device. This piece gained more traction, most likely thanks to the subject matter since this is a popular character.

Day 26 - Holiday

I didn’t want to do a religious holiday like Christmas or Easter. A lot of other people also interpreted the prompt as a vacation, but I had already done a sort of “beach vacation” piece for day 11, so I instead went for a “public holiday” and chose NYE/NYD. This was fairly quick but the lighting was an interesting experiment. I knew this one wouldn’t be as popular because it wasn’t as “flattering” but I personally really like it. The girl on the left is kind of goofy and completely un-self-conscious and I think it’s captured here.

Day 27 - Music

Really didn’t like how this one turned out. I don’t think the likeness is good at all, the lighting is poor, and the gold detailing feels lazy. But I liked other elements, such as the pose and the clothing.

Day 28 - Treasure

This is my least favourite of the entire month, but I also had the least time available to work on it before the deadline so I had no opportunity to scrap it and start over, which I sorely wanted to do. The likeness is terrible, but more than that the base anatomy is off, the pose is stiff, and the lighting/colours are cheap. I wish I could’ve done better by this character; but, I am glad I had something finished at all.

Day 29 - Skin

This was probably my third attempt at this picture and I’m still not happy with it, but again, I had to finish something. I almost considered scrapping the concept entirely and choosing something easier but ended up seeing it through. The concept itself is actually recycled from an older piece of mine for an entirely different fandom, because I didn’t think I did it justice then, either. Would still like to revisit this concept with this character and take more time.

Day 30 - Trust

After a few days of feeling really dissatisfied and uncomfortable with the art I’d been making, I finally more time to dedicate to a piece, and I’m overall happy with how this one turned out. I decided to go for a different medium entirely with pixel art, which also gave me the opportunity to try and animate it. I started off confident and then started to get worried towards the end, but all the elements came together when I added the portal colour effects. This is an alternate reality version of one of the player characters, who appears through a portal and allows that character to escape the facility she’s being kept in, encouraging them to trust the “voices” she hears which are actually versions of herself trying to help her. This piece was retweeted by the official Apex Legends Twitter account!

Day 31 - Freestyle

I had this planned out early in the challenge and I’m really, really happy with how it turned out. It’s probably tied with my favourite along with the very first piece (how fitting). I was worried about how I was going to capture the movement without over-complicating the lineart, having so many people in one image, etc. before I realised the focus was entirely on gesture, and then everything clicked. I went for a thicker brush, which forced me to conserve my lines, and tried to simplify each character down to the bare minimum needed to recognise them. They’re also all wearing new non-canonical outfits so I used their familiar colour schemes for the same purpose. It’s not perfect, but I love it, and it’s everything I’d hoped I’d be able to end the challenge on.

I really, really enjoyed the entire month and the way it tied in with my new time management schedule. It gave me some achievable short-term goals which added up to this long-term achievement I can now look back on; I learned a lot both about balancing my energy and about technical skills, I found ways to stay motivated, and most importantly I learned to not get caught up on the individual slip-ups and pieces I didn’t like as much and to instead focus on the bigger picture. Thank you to everyone involved in organising and supporting this event! I found so many other incredible fanartists, writers, and content creators through this challenge and I can’t wait to see the bonus content released over August!

#31 Days of Apex #31DaysOfApex #highlights

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twistednuns · 4 years

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October 2020

To buttress - increase the strength of or justification for; reinforce / to mollycoddle - to give someone too much care or protection.

A letter from Nina. One of those weird internet connections. Not my first one, certainly not my last one.

Frank’s DnD backstory reads quite insightful/poetic to me as he has taken so much from his life. He might have done it without intent but it’s quite obvious to me. I’ve agreed to make a character sketch for him. I’m looking forward to the challenge but I’m also afraid of starting the project because obviously I want it to be perfect. Anyway so the other night I sat at his kitchen table and started drawing a facial composite for his goliath. Lots of sketches actually with him giving me some prompts and ideas. I think he loved watching me do my magic. What a peaceful moment.

Applause from some students. Simply for entering the room. They must really hate their English teacher, eh?

I’ve started forming the habit of drawing tarot cards on a full moon and new moon night. It helps me set an intention for the following two weeks. So on the first of October I drew the Queen of Wands to represent me and I’m loving it. It’s the perfect choice.

The fabric dyeing process for the Plot exhibition at Haus der Kunst

Inviting warmth into my life. Wearing appropriately warm clothing. Even hats. Drinking tea all the time. Turning the heating on even though it’s only September. Warm breakfast. Ayurveda inspiration. Hot baths. Thinking about buying an electric heating blanket for my bed.So far I’ve been taking a hot water bottle to bed with me pretty much every night.

Finding one of those Barts woolly animal hats online. This one came with tigers. And the seller sent me a cherry marzipan teabag. I enjoyed it on a cold and rainy Saturday morning.

FAQ: The Status of the Shits Women Have Left to Give

Reading the final scenes of Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy. I actually took the wrong bus one evening and ended up in front of one of the Pinakotheken instead of Villa Stuck. I must have been quite immersed. I’m very happy with the ending. I mean, the main character is walking around the house barefoot with the smell of fresh paint following her, her hair loose. What a wonderful image.

The wind blowing through the maple trees outside my living room window. I’m just going to quote a Wikipedia article to explain what happened next: The distinctive fruits are called samaras, “maple keys”, “helicopters”, “whirlybirds” or “polynoses”. These seeds occur in distinctive pairs each containing one seed enclosed in a “nutlet” attached to a flattened wing of fibrous, papery tissue. They are shaped to spin as they fall and to carry the seeds a considerable distance on the wind. People often call them “helicopters” due to the way that they spin as they fall. During World War II, the US Army developed a special airdrop supply carrier that could carry up to 65 pounds (29 kg) of supplies and was based on the maple seed.

Monsieur Wiener - I’ve paid him a visit when I had problems with my analogue Pentax camera!

I don’t know why but one dark Friday evening I slipped into the empty church at Odeonsplatz. I loved the peaceful atmosphere, the specific smell and the red church candles flickering.

I loved meeting Flo. We had such a great time, constantly joking, talking about this and that. Sailor Mercury, Hades, our family. His wink. He said that I had been exactly right but in the end apparently I wasn’t. It stung because he had been one of the rare guys in the last months (years, actually) I actually liked. Oh well. I guess it wasn’t meant to be after all. This is what the Universe had to say about it the other day: There are no accidents. If it’s appeared on your life’s radar, this is why: to teach you that dreams come true; to reveal that you have the power to fix what’s broken and heal what hurts; to catapult you beyond seeing with just your physical senses; and to lift the veils that have kept you from seeing that you’re already the person you dreamed you’d become.

Videos of Marno and Erin together. Also: she is so freakin’ beautiful as a marauder.

A surprise call from Ann-Katrin.

Sweet chai tea with milk.

The bright moonlight making the neighbours’ roof look like fish scales.

Forensic linguistics. I listened to a podcast episode about the Unabomber who was only discovered after his brother had noticed some stylistic irregularities in his manifesto. You can’t eat your cake and have it too.

Autumn leaves. Especially when it’s just the outer leaves turning red or yellow while the rest of the foliage is still green.

Sitting next to my ten-year-old student Ella on the bus on our way home on a Friday afternoon. She’s a very chatty Gemini and even though her self-importance and constant talking can be quite annoying I’ve kinda taken a liking to her.

A bunch of Alstroemeria in my dark green glass vase on the desk. A pretty image.

I still appreciate how beautiful my LuLuLemon thermos bottle is after all this time.

I should probably mention my new hair (extensions). Well, it looks absolutely gorgeous from the front. But I already know that I won’t get them again because you can see the glue in a few places, it’s quite hard, often painful and feels unnatural. And of course it’s much too expensive.

Baby carrots with King hummus.

My lunch dates with Becky.

Making my favourite sour thai curry. With rice noodles. And peanuts and cilantro. Yum.

Starting to work on a big soapstone sculpture. It’s going to be a hand! I love it when I have a group of calm students. It allows me to work on a project with them.

Making delicious pumpkin lasagna.

Visiting Manu’s mum. Making plum dumplings together. A fun afternoon in their kitchen.

A very cosy Sunday. Waking up at 5:30am. Watching Practical Magic in bed. Having a slice of pumpkin lasagna for breakfast. A sudden urge to get out, dressing up to keep out the cold, going out, early, streetlights still on. A walk through the woods. I loved how calm everything was. Being out before all the others had a chance to disturb the stillness with their kids and dogs and bicycles. Making lebkuchen. Lots of pecans. Having a nap. Writing a letter. Drawing weird mushrooms and bugs.

Autumnal smells. The moist smell of the forest ground, mushrooms, the smell of chimneys on a cold Sunday morning. Incense, gingerbread spices. Facial oil with lavender and iris. Roasted pecans.

A crafty day. I made a haunted house, some ghosts, spiders, bats, skulls and pumpkins out of paper.

Schlurp.

Meeting Frank in front of Residenztheater. The whole square was empty, he was the only person there. Waiting for me. Looking up to the opera roof. What an impressive building.

Talking about living life in story mode and action mode. I feel so stuck in action mode at the moment and desperately want to switch to story mode. Fantasy, magic, coincidences and meaning.

Spicy pumpkin recipes in the current issue of Schrot und Korn.

Rice and hazelnut milk as a bedtime treat.

Collecting autumn leaves. Chestnuts, acorns, feathers, beechnuts. Making a little autumnal alter with some crystals.

Thursday mornings. So much time for myself. Lots of tea, warm breakfast.

Treating myself to massages and nice facial creams and serums. Ya Yah is such a gifted person. I love her massages the most. The other day I also got a facial for the first time in many many years. It was nice to be wrapped in an extremely fluffy blanket. When the bright lights were on I could see different colours after closing my eyes and imagined being at a tropical beach. Unintentional ASMR sounds from the rubber gloves. Cosy.

Spicy winter tea in my new thermos bottle. The steam swirling up from my favourite mug (the moon phase mug I bough in Canada).

Buying cheap sparkly stickers, washi tape and stamps. Just because.

Pecan nuts are the BEST. Crazy delicious.

Porridge with coconut milk and mango for breakfast. Persimmons. Candles in the morning.

Gloomy twilight. The dark hour right before sunset/sunrise. Spooky black silhouettes against the ink blue or greyish white sky. Fairy lights. Memories of spending Halloween at Greyfriar’s Kirkyard in Edinburgh.

Finding yet another woolly hat for my collection. This time with pheasants.

Deltavenus’ Instagram feed.

Cutting open a fresh lime.

Happily singing along to my two favourite mantras (Jai Mata Kali / Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha) while making apple galette. Trying to harmonise in different ways.

A very surprising call from Claudia. She ended up in my kitchen, drinking half a bottle of wine.

A lovely Sunday with Sash. A walk through the English garden. Watching the waterfall, falling leaves, backlit by the afternoon sunlight. Haus der Kunst. Getting in for free (art teacher bonus). I really liked the Michael Armitage exhibition and the enormous dyed curtains in the hall. Franz Erhard Walther’s Dust of Stars autobiography was impressive as well. I just ordered the book online; I’m looking forward to reading it. We also had a drink at Goldene Bar and enjoyed a late lunch at Baoz Bar.

Becky leaving me a lovely note and an English magazine on my desk.

Fink’s Knödelstube with Lena and Sash. We had 13 different kinds of dumplings. Heavenly delicious.

I came to realise that mornings are my favourite time of the day. I love gloomy, dark sunrises and my usual productivity highs.

Writing limericks with the kids.

Getting lost in the woods after dark which might not look like a good think at first glance but I uncovered a little secret - some bee hives I had never seen before!

A mild obsession with The Corrs’ song Old Town. I didn’t even know where it came from. It’s not a song I’ve ever actively listened to.

Learning about sesame plants. Another one of those plants I expected to look completely different.

I can smell mushrooms. On Saturday morning I went to the forest again early in the morning and whenever I would get a whiff of mushrooms and look down there they were.

Dog owners wishing me a good morning on my walk. Interestingly only men, the women tend to ignore me.

Wicked! - Modern Art’s Interest in the Occult. Learning about Leonora Carrington.

James’ chameleons in art class. He drew one representing each of his family members. He was the one licking a bat. Bold.

Buying far too many books. But I found out that Naomi Novik just published a new novel about a school of magic. And within two days I came across the writer Ursula K. Le Guin three times so I took it as a sign and got one of her books as well.

Prepare for the Roaring Twenties - The human desire to socialize will survive the pandemic.

A deep talk session with Jonathan about getting old, having children, self-worth, dating, obeying rules.

Finding my favourite pair of jeans on Kleiderkreisel for a fraction of the original price. And a baseball jacket with a Strange Ladies Society print on the back.

A walk in the forest before work. Something I’ve never done before I think. So good for my nerves, really.

The art of decision-making.

Joy praising me for my authoritative voice (effectively making the fifth-graders do what I want).

Decorating the classroom with the fifth-graders. I love my haunted house on the window pane, their lovely spiders, ghosts and bats. I should probably mention that our class mascot is a cute spider named Crawley so we’re all quite into spooky stuff. On the last day before the holidays we all showed up in costumes, played a Halloween quiz, listened to creepy music and I brought some candy, too. Fun!

Meeting the gang on Halloween. Japanese-inspired dinner and a board game.

#things i love #present perfect #personal #october #2020 #october 2020

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johnny-and-dora · 6 years

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holding back the flood

“Oh god. Their baby is the size of a cherry. She’s tearing up again.”

or, the one where jake and rosa take care of a extremely stressed, highly emotional and mildly pregnant amy. (future fic) read on ao3

Amy really doesn’t know why she’s crying.

As a Santiago, she prides herself on having at least a reasonable amount of self control when it comes to emotional displays in the workplace; she was taught long ago that they were highly inappropriate, after all, and she takes great pride in being a teacher’s pet/star mentee.

Disregarding Holt’s advice (which isn’t something she often does), one of the thousands of things she’s learnt since she became a sergeant is that it’s optimum for everyone’s productivity – and overall physical wellbeing – if she can keep stress braids, Santiago-scale freak outs and full-on weeping to a minimum at work.

(No-one needs to mention the Great Printer Catastrophe again – and absolutely no-one needs to mention that she’s permanently banned from being anywhere near the machine if it’s ever low on ink.)

Badly timed, apocalypse-inducing paper jams aside; Amy is a strong, emotionally resilient, rational woman. She rolls her eyes and smiles at Jake when he cries at films, she flawlessly multitasks with letting her anxiety get the best of her, and she tries her best to remain professional at all times (ignoring the extremely few instances in which her husband has tempted her into Supply Closet C). She cries when she wants to, when she needs to, but as a rule, she absolutely holds it together at the precinct, especially in front of her officers.

At least, that’s what she’s been firmly trying to tell herself for the past few days, because her usually reliable ability to “hold it together” currently seems about as unstable as her current hormone levels.

Since she got into work this morning, she’s cried four times already – once because they were out of granola, once because Charles’s lunch smelled at least ten million times worse and at least ten times more eye-watering than usual. Once, most unceremoniously, in a toilet stall on her break because her head wrecks and she’s so nauseous she can barely enjoy filling in paperwork anymore, and once because she suddenly remembered the sonogram picture, grainy and monochrome and forever universe-changing, that currently takes pride of place in their kitchen, stuck lovingly with an old I LOVE NY magnet to their fridge.

Notably - and most likely the shining, golden solve for why she might be spending 3pm on a Thursday afternoon sobbing her little heart out in the evidence lock up, riding out her own little hormone rollercoaster - Amy is nine weeks pregnant.

(Now is not the time, but something in her lights up every time she actually dares to think the actual word “pregnant” into existence; she fondly remembers snapshots of the past two months, the swell of joy in her heart at those two life-altering little lines, another test passed with flying colours. The look on Jake’s face when she told him, the way he’s been doing everything he can to take care of her. The time he came home with a little pair of baby sneakers that he “couldn’t resist” and she kissed him after lecturing him about how now wasn’t the time for frivolous purchases and they needed to be balancing their finances.)

(In short, they’re having a baby - and it’s terrifying and exhilarating and extremely, extremely nauseating, and she’s never been happier in her life.)

(And yet, she still can’t quite seem to stop crying.)

The emotional carnival ride of growing a human aside, she really doesn’t want to have an emotional break-down here, of all places, the one place in the precinct that’s meant to keep her steady. Quite frankly, Amy does not have the time to spare for these gross, irritating emotions right now. There is no time reserved in her tightly packed schedule for emotions of any kind, let alone multiple confusing and upsetting ones all at once.

She can’t even really note anything currently worth crying over. It’s just a simple detailed and meticulously planned patrol schedule due by the end of her shift that’s proving slightly harder to organise than first anticipated. Easy. Not a problem that she hasn’t solved a thousand times before.

Of course, that’s also on top of the thirty slide presentation about increasing productivity and efficiency within the precinct she has to give tomorrow that she’s barely had the time or energy to actually prepare for. And the in-depth evaluations she has to hand in of her entire squad by Monday.

And the fact that she’s already behind on the research for her pregnancy binder, and she still hasn’t revised their monthly budgets - because once she finally gets home she’s too exhausted to do anything other than sleepily curl up on the couch next to her husband, using Jake as her personal space heater while he strokes her hair and tells her about his day. She’s even too tired to yell at the TV during Jeopardy.

It’s nothing. At least, it’s nothing she would usually be worried about, tasks to complete that she would normally even be a little excited to feel the adrenaline rush of finishing early and getting some sweet spare time to revise her eighteen step plan to increase arrest numbers by 30% by December. Santiago-style.

And yet, to pregnant Amy, what usually constitutes as ‘nothing’ seems to currently signal the end of days - and so, here she appears to be.

Hormones raging, freshly applied mascara once again ruined, eyes red and puffy, breathing irregular, neon sign brightly flashing with the words “hot mess” directly above her head. She’s hiding, not exactly inconspicuously, between the endlessly neat rows of closed cases, knees hugged as close to her chest as possible while taking tremendous care not to squish the ever-so-slight, barely noticeable bump that remains breath-taking proof that she’s growing an actual, real-life, cherry sized (as Jake cheerfully informed her this morning over breakfast) human being inside of her.

Oh God. Their baby is now the size of a cherry. She’s tearing up again.

She decides after a while, with the shred of rationality Amy seems to have left, that she is currently a hot mess that only one person is fully equipped to deal with. She reaches for her phone, sniffling, trying her best keep her breathing steady, anxiously fiddling with the shining silver wedding band on her ring finger.

She’s about to text a “Code Blue, Evidence Lockup” to Jake (who she thought she couldn’t love more up until about three weeks ago, when he woke her up at 3am with a meticulously crafted colour-based code system they could use to covertly deal with pregnancy situations - it made her both very emotional and super horny) – but she feels a flash of panic when it’s not in its usual place tucked safely in her back pocket. Her heart quickly sinks when she realises it must be still in the top drawer of her desk.

She lets out another stifled sob of dread and embarrassment and frustration and practically every range of negative emotion under the sun - which is, obviously, exactly when she hears the door to the evidence lock-up swing open.

A spark of fear immediately ignites in her chest as her heart starts racing – not now. She instinctively squeezes her eyes shut, hoping desperately that if she makes herself as small as physically possible, even in her current state, she’ll be able to completely disappear.

The Nine-Nine have seen her in a much worse state, sure. She’s more sure than anything that her chosen family would be able to make her feel better in practically any kind of situation. And yet, pretty much her worst, world-ending, blood-pumping fear right now is anyone – except Jake, seeing as this is the job he kind of signed up for when he married her - having to deal with her like this.

As weighted footsteps inch agonisingly closer, her heart plummets even further at the absence of the familiar sound of well worn sneakers – instead, she hears the equally familiar yet less comforting click-clack of black high-heeled boots on the cold concrete floor. She prepares for the worst.

The next thing she hears, deep yet uncharacteristically quiet and almost with a note of panic, is an unusually soft “Amy?” – when she finally opens her eyes, Rosa swims into view, eyes so comically wide that she can’t help but exhale a shaky, weak laugh. This is going to be fun.

“Heyyyyyyyy, Rosa.” She gives a little half-hearted wave despite herself, deciding to fully embrace the slightly hilarious and extremely mortifying situation.

(It could be worse. At least it’s less mortifying then being walked in on when making out with your boyfriend of one day, resulting in the heart attack and subsequent death of your new captain. Jake and Amy hold a lot of precinct records between them – the award for “highest amount of captains accidentally killed” is probably the one she’s least proud of.)

“Um, hey. Are you...”

“Chill? I’m chilled. I’m to-tal-ly chill. Chilled.”

If possible, Rosa’s eyes get wider.

“Do you possibly happen to know where my husband is, by any chance?” She laughs nervously with this sort of manic grin plastered on her face, putting all her energy into seeming like a normal human being. She’s failing miserably.

Rosa raises an eyebrow, but thankfully decides to indulge her.

“...He’s working on Charles’s B&E, some lame cheese shop downtown that Charles is too devastated about to get any actual police work done. They left like twenty minutes ago.” Amy exhales, trying not to let her face fall too hard.

“Right. Chill. Do you mind if I text him? I left my phone downstairs and I can’t exactly go down looking like...this.” She’s barely finished her sentence before Rosa is handing her phone to her, and she takes it gratefully.

She quickly finds Jake’s contact and involuntarily feels her lips tug up into a small smile at the incredibly unflattering dorky candid - from easily a decade ago, maybe even the Academy - that is his contact picture.

(Some things never change. She’s very glad his hair has.)

To: Jake Peralta, 15:06 Hey babe, it’s Amy. Code Blue, Evidence Lockup. I know you’re with Charles so don’t drop everything and immediately rush back here, just come when you can. Using Rosa’s phone because I left mine downstairs. Love you x

The painstaking minute and a half she takes to type out and send it to him – all while her hands are shaking from the incessant and deafening panic alarm sounding in her ribcage - are made even worse by the intense burning sensation of Rosa’s direct gaze on her the entire time. Hold it together, Amy.

“Thank you.” She hands Rosa her phone back, wishing more than ever that if she concentrated hard enough she could just disappear from sight completely. An awkward silence descends over them both, bringing with it an inevitable thickness in the air not unlike the first warnings of a thunderstorm. It’s unbearable.

It’s not like they’re not close enough to talk about exactly why Amy is sobbing hysterically in the evidence lock-up at 3pm on a Thursday – far from it, in fact. Ever since Florida, Rosa has become more and more of a valued and surprisingly skilled confidante, even if most of her solutions to Amy’s problems are tequila and Nancy Meyers films. (It, somehow, always seems to work.)

If anything, Amy is desperate to tell one of her closest and best friends all about how nauseous she is and how stressed out she feels and how, by the way, she’s casually just in the early stages of growing a human inside of her and she feels even more panicked than usual and what if she can never get the balance of being a mother and focusing on her career right and-

But she can’t. Because they can’t tell anyone, no matter how much Amy yearns to share this joy with the people she cares about the most, and how much Jake wants to gleefully yell that he knocked his wife up at virtually everyone they pass on the street. They’re just not ready – in truth, she isn’t ready for it to be official, real and an unavoidable, gargantuan force of change.

Thinking the word ‘pregnant’ into existence is enough to cause a hurricane of raw emotion – but it’s a light breeze compared to actually saying out loud.

And yet, they both known Rosa won’t leave until she gets some sort of answer out of her. They’re at an impasse – an uncomfortable, awkward, silent impasse.

Rosa’s gaze is scrutinising and calculating and Amy genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if lasers started shooting from her eyes at any second – it’s something of a old western movie stand-off parody, except they’re waiting out who’s going to suck it up and actually start the conversation they should probably be having right about now, no matter how uncomfortable both of them might be.

After an excruciating eternity of roughly ten seconds, the other curly-haired and always slightly terrifying detective eventually sighs and resignedly slides down on the floor next to her, discarding whatever file she had to the side. Her expression (as usual), is unreadable as she clears her throat.

“So - are you going to tell me what’s causing...this...” - Rosa makes an awkward sweeping gesture in her direction, which she assumes can only be in reference to the whole aforementioned “hot mess” state that she’s currently wallowing in – “or am I going to have to interrogate it out of you?”

“Rosa, honestly. I’m fine.”

“You and I have a very different definition of what ‘fine’ is, Santiago.” Amy just shrugs, so Rosa folds her arms and extends her legs across the floor like she’s prepared to be here all night, in true Diaz interrogation style. Amy’s thinking about laser eyes again before her friend’s expression unexpectedly softens.

“Do...you want to...talk about it?”

“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer, to her credit. Despite everything they’ve been through, seeing Rosa try to talk about feelings can still be a little like imagining a turtle out its shell, and Amy’s really not prepared to honestly talk about her physical and emotional state right now.

She just wants her husband to bring her some chocolate and give her a slightly inappropriate-for-work and yet badly needed neck massage, and Rosa is not someone she’d willingly go to for either of those things.

She sighs again, averting her gaze from Amy’s face to seemingly anywhere in the room before she starts talking again.

“Look dude, talking about your feelings is gross. If you don’t want to talk about it and you just want to sit here and cry it all out, I get it. I’ll stay here as long as you need, then go file my arson case and pretend I didn’t see anything. But...I’m here for you. Even if your feelings are the grossest or lamest, if you wanna talk, I’ll listen. Okay?” She finally brings herself to look at Amy directly, dark irises electric with the most intense sincerity she’s ever seen.

Okay, yeah. She’s definitely going to start crying again.

“Wait, I didn’t mean –“ Rosa begins; but Amy is already hugging her, forcefully and tightly and awkwardly from the side, tears once again free-flowing. She smiles brightly and tenderly at the way Rosa only stiffens up for a second before equally as awkwardly leaning into it, patting Amy reassuringly on the shoulder with her free arm.

They stay like that for a good minute, Amy sniffling and basically doing the exact opposite of holding it together, but also feeling like its okay. Like nothing she can do or say will end the world if she doesn’t let it. It’s a refreshing change of pace.

This, of course, means the second she finally finds the strength to detach herself from her best friend; well, it just kind of comes spilling out.

“I’m pregnant.”

Rosa’s eyes suddenly become comically wide again, and Amy laughs for real this time, bright and shining and clear.

“Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm. 9 weeks yesterday.”

“Nice.” Rosa smiles, a genuine, rare glowing Rosa smile, giving Amy a light shove of encouragement. When Amy breathes out, it somehow feels like a huge weight has lifted from her shoulders. She grins.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I feel sick all the time, all my clothes are becoming too tight, I can’t drink caffeine or alcohol or shame smoke and I’m so stressed out and emotional that I cry at literally everything – but, y’know.”

“You’re having a baby.” Rosa says with this kind of awe, and Amy gets this warm glow in her chest.

“Yeah.” She smiles. “I’m having a baby.”

“That’s...a lot.”

“Yeah. Everything’s just...a lot, right now.” She sighs heavily, still weighted with something she’s been worried about for the last week or so.

“We haven’t told anyone else yet, but – well, do you think it’s obvious?” She finally plucks up the courage to ask the question that’s been nagging at her mind ever since she started to have a little more trouble fitting in to her sergeant’s uniform, and the other detective pauses thoughtfully for a second to think about it.

“I don’t think so. You’re not...showing, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

“No, no. We just... we didn’t want to tell everyone until...y’know. We were ready and it was the right time and...” She trails off, making a casual sweeping sort of gesture that somehow encapsulates her worst fears, and Rosa nods.

“I had my suspicions – you haven’t come out with us to Shaw’s in a long time, I haven’t seen you drink caffeine for a month, and you’ve been having even worse reactions to Charles’s disgusting food than usual. You don’t have to be a detective to start threading those symptoms together.”

“Damn. I thought we were doing a pretty good job of keeping it secret.” Amy sighs, folding her arms tightly across her chest, but Rosa just shrugs it off.

“You are. I saw all that but I still wasn’t sure. It just so happens that most of the people you’re trying to keep it secret from are highly trained NYPD detectives.”

Amy exhales a shaky half laugh and smiles, properly and genuinely, at the way her best friend looks at her with this kind of rare and precious softness, the corners of her mouth ever so slightly upturned into a smile.

“Also, I caught Jake on a baby name website last week and he panicked and told me he was brainstorming names for the monitor lizard you guys are thinking of adopting.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Yeah.” Rosa grins and Amy laughs at how wonderfully, amazingly stupid her husband can be, and her heart is actually warmed by the idea of Jake looking up baby names when he’s supposed to be working despite how irresponsible and stupid that is.

Somehow, she already feels better that she has all day, and there’s not a bottle of tequila or a DVD copy of The Holiday in sight. Another successful solve for the Sleuth Sisters (she’s still proud of that name and their corresponding cool-as-heck handshake, okay).

“Is that...why you’re here? You’re worried about everyone knowing?” Rosa asks, a little more tentatively than usual now she understands Amy’s fragile state a little better. She makes a face.

“Maybe. Honestly, I don’t really know why I’m here. It’s just between this stupid patrol schedule and this presentation I have to give tomorrow and my squad evaluations and my pregnancy binder and my actual pregnancy – well, I don’t know if I can handle it, okay?”

“...And that freaks you out because normally it would be something you could do easily.” Rosa nods, understanding, and Amy gives her a weak smile, letting her hands drop and rest naturally, almost protectively on her stomach.

“Amy, you are two months pregnant. There’s no way you can get done what you’d usually be able to get done by yourself, because you’re busy being exhausted from growing another human being inside of you. It’s perfectly normal to not be able to take on your usual superhuman workload, you nerd.” Rosa says, with this familiar exasperated disbelief at Amy’s overworking brain.

“I know, I know. It’s just...frustrating. I’m already struggle to balance family with career and the baby isn’t even here yet. It only just became a foetus, Rosa. A foetus!”

“Okay, okay.” Rosa puts her hands out like she’s trying to steady a horse, clearly fully aware that Amy’s about five seconds away from a Level 3 Santiago Scale Freak Out, Pregnant Edition – something neither of them are fully prepared for.

“I don’t have an answer to the whole baby and career thing, but you don’t have to think about that right now – you need to focus on you.” Amy clearly doesn’t look convinced enough, so Rosa sighs and tries again.

“Tell Holt you’ve been sick recently and you don’t feel ready for the presentation, and he’ll 100% understand, dude. Get Jennings to help you with the patrol schedule seeing as that nerd loves paperwork almost as much as you do, and you know your officers better than another sergeant in New York, so those evaluations will be easy – you could probably motivate them to even do it themselves. Problem solved, you get to go home early and kick your feet up with a non-alcoholic cocktail.” She flawlessly monologues off a game plan with an exceptional ease that leaves Amy in a state of awe.

“Wow. I...erm, yeah. That’s super helpful, actually.” Rosa nods, like it’s nothing that she’s just solved basically the entirety of Amy’s current mental-breakdown-inducing stressors in a matter of seconds, and then softens.

“You’re going to be fine, Amy. Trust me. Once the whole squad knows we’ll be queuing up to help you guys out.” She, of course, knew that already – but it’s nice to hear it out loud, a promise engraved in the unbreakable, indestructible bond of the 99th precinct. She’s definitely less close to tears now, which is always a plus.

She always knew she could count on her parents to help out, of course, and maybe a couple of her brothers when they weren’t busy graduating med school or travelling the world or having kids of their own. But it’s nice to know, to have it spoken, that she’ll always be able to count on her other family, too. That there are so many people who are more than willing to ride her stupid emotional rollercoaster with her, even through the seemingly endless loops.

“Thanks, Rosa.” “Anytime.”

As if on cue, their little bonding moment is abruptly hijacked when Jake comes crashing into the evidence lock-up – chaotic and electric and as hectic as she’s come to expect in the many, many years she’s spent slowly falling more and more in love with him, his eyes slightly wild , extremely out of breath. Amy’s heart rate spikes again as she realises with a jumble of adoration, frustration and amusement that he ran all the way here just to take care of her.

Not for the first time, amazingly not even for the first time this week, she quickly realises that she really couldn’t have found a better person to share the rest of her life with. She whispers a silent thank you to the universe.

“Ames! I’m so sorry it took me so long” – he pauses to take another breath – “I had to run from that stupid cheese shop, and I know you said not to drop everything and immediately rush back here, so I obviously dropped everything and immediately rushed back here, ‘cause I knew that you were just downplaying it and if it’s a Code Blue that’s important and-“

It seems to be only then that he notices Rosa watching them both, who gives him a subtle nod, unable to completely keep the smile from her face. Frozen, his eyes flick repeatedly and chaotically from Rosa’s to hers, as if he’s trying to telepathically figure out whether he can talk about the baby or not.

He looks like a cartoon character and/or absolute, complete utter idiot, and Amy laughs melodically, deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Jake, it’s okay – she knows.”

“...About the monitor lizard we’re planning to adopt?” He says slowly, and Amy and Rosa both roll their eyes simultaneously; neither of them bothering to poorly conceal their smiles anymore.

In lieu of an answer, Rosa gets up from the floor and punches Jake in the shoulder, smiling wider than Amy thinks she’s ever seen her smile (except maybe when Alicia is around). It’s extremely heart-warming and only slightly unnerving – she doesn’t think she’s ever recorded so many genuine Rosa smiles in one day - except maybe on her and Jake’s wedding night, or when she oh-so casually mentioned over lunch a few months ago that she and Alicia were moving in together.

It’s different and unexpected and unusual in the best way possible – sharing this joy, especially with someone she cares about so much. Suddenly, she starts to understand why Jake wants so badly to yell it out into the street.

“Dude. I know. And for the record, I think you’re going to be a great...monitor lizard keeper.” Amy smiles as she sees the tension practically seep out of Jake’s frame and he relaxes a little, grins at Rosa, bright as the sun. She loves him so much.

“You really think?”

“I know. You two are going to kick ass at this. A thousand push ups.” Rosa practically radiates sincerity as she places a hand on Jake’s shoulder. She doesn’t have to be a detective to know that she’s not the only one in the room who’s definitely on the verge of tearing up again. Jake, if possible, smiles even wider.

It’s all very disgustingly heart-warming and Amy thinks if it carries on much longer there’s a high chance that Hysterical Cry #6 could happen at any minute.

“Thanks, Diaz. We’re hugging now.” “No, we’re not.”

“Yes we are, c’mon, we’re having a moment.” Before she can object further, he hugs her tightly and Rosa hugs back - without hesitation or apprehension or any of it, just warmth. Amy takes the opportunity to wipe fresh tears away.

“Ames, you wanna get in on this?” Jake says after a minute, and she shakes her head.

“Nah, I’ve already had my one allocated Rosa hug today.”

“Just get in here, Santiago.” Rosa grumbles, slightly muffled, and Amy more than happily obliges, carefully lifting herself up and gladly sandwiching herself between two of her favourite people in the entire world.

Somehow, she can’t seem to remember what she was crying about.

“God, you guys’ lameness is infectious.” Rosa says after they break apart, quickly wiping her face with her sleeve like if she does it fast enough they won’t see. It doesn’t work.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” “...Haven’t you actually got an arson case to file?” Amy says, concerned, but she just shrugs it off.

“It can wait. You gonna be okay?” Rosa asks, and Amy pauses for a second, still hyperaware of the anxiety pushing down at the bottom of her stomach like lead and making her slightly dizzy. But then Jake squeezes her hand gently, anchoring her back down to reality, and she smiles.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Good. If you need anything, ask, dummy. I’m not massaging you, though. That’s Peralta’s job.” She adds as an afterthought, which makes Amy laugh.

“Ah, a job I do with zero experience, very little skill and far too much confidence. The Peralta speciality.” Rosa rolls her eyes and casually strides out of the evidence lock-up like she hasn’t just been given the life-changing news that the Peralta-Santiagos are expecting - like she hasn’t just spent the last fifteen minutes flawlessly consoling a highly emotional and mildly pregnant weeping police sergeant like it was nothing. Amy has really no idea what she would do without her.

She watches her go with a sense of awe and peace and finally, sweet contentment - before turning to Jake, who smiles that soft smile that’s guaranteed to melt her like butter even when she’s not crazy hormonal and super horny. He squeezes her hand again, another secret coded language they’ve been speaking for almost a decade with remarkable ease.

“You sure you’re okay? I can go get chocolate if you need it, I know where Scully keeps his secret stash.”

“Mmm. I’m okay. Better now you’re here.” She says, wholeheartedly meaning it, and he carefully, tenderly hugs her, placing a chaste, appropriate-for-work kiss on the top of her head in a way that makes her think this is it. They’re having a baby. Amy wants to yell it out to passing strangers in the street.

“We’re having a baby.” She opts for the more practical decision of whispering it gently with this sort of quiet, glowing glee - he matches it in the way he looks at her, in all her red-eyed, mascara ruined glory, like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Hell yeah, we are.” He whispers back, grinning ecstatically, and her heart is New York lit up in Christmas lights.

She’s still a little stressed beyond belief about that patrol schedule, and the inevitably anxiety inducing email she has to send to Holt about putting off the presentation for a couple of days. She’s still behind on the pregnancy binder, and their monthly budgets, and every day the cherry sized piece of her heart that’s growing ever bigger in her stomach provides a whole new set of challenges she’d rather openly weep about that actually get on with overcoming.

But she has a dork of a husband who will willingly drop everything and sprint 20 blocks just to take care of her, and a terrifying best friend who can solve her greatest problems and quiet her worst fears without a bottle of tequila in sight. She has a family, one that is always growing bigger and bigger – a totally bizarre, mismatched, unique and strange family, but one that she grows more grateful for every single day.

So when Jake hurriedly whispers a “love you” and kisses her softly before running back to tell Charles that the owner definitely broke into his own shop for the insurance money, and when Amy finally returns to her desk, smile on her face, to find Gary eagerly waiting to help her figure out the patrol schedule as Rosa so wisely predicted, she is no longer crying – she’s still nauseous and exhausted, sure, but happy, so deliriously happy, and so deliriously excited to finally embrace hurricane of change.

She opens up her phone’s calendar, where she quickly types “Announcement Day!” into the slot six days away, before sitting back in her chair, deciding what episodes of Serve and Protect they’re going to watch tonight, glowing smile on her face.

Then, and only then, Amy just grips the bar in the carriage of her own little emotional rollercoaster before it can start up again – and she holds on tight, waiting patiently to enjoy the ride.

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #b99 fic #peraltiago #jake x amy #sleuth sisters!#i hope you like this #<3333 #shut up sian

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margie68n95763-blog · 5 years

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10 Homemade Face Hide For All Skin Kinds.

United States painter, artist as well as filmmaker, Julian Schnabel (born, 1951) is a recognized title in Hollywood, who has actually likewise been actually a front-runner of 'Neo-Expressionism.' He got into the field of craft via his 1st solo show in the year 1975, when paint as a fine art, was losing its own shine. Not all colour in your skin is welcome, and also some meals can easily create soreness or blush. Even when our company can't consistently see reddish hair, lots of folks still hold the genes. Colors like plum, aubergine and also royal violet additionally will make ashen green eyes pop. The Most Effective Hair Colors for Brown Skin Layer. If you change shades later, you may get rid of the name with a scrubber sponge or even steel woollen. Financial debt was actually lessened through $7 million in the period, so actually the change in net debt had to do with $1 million for the fourth. They generally last for a single cleaning, however if you possess light-hair and also incorporated some rich purple or even eco-friendly, you may have to wash it greater than the moment. . Modifying your hair shade is the entrance to including an extra dose of fun into your life.

In 1914, he took note how reds appeared muddy and lifeless, as well as by 1918 he was actually minimized to selecting colours coming from the tag on the coating cylinder. Research studies have additionally shown that the shade blue suppresses individuals's cravings. Bruising of the penis complying with an accident can lead to the skin in the impacted area to darken or even to handle a violet, blue and even greenish appearance. Additionally of alcohol consumption loads of water, you need to also avoid alcohol and salty cocktails that results in dehydration to stop dark circles and puffy eyes. I quit colouring my hair regarding a dozen years ago when my then-husband claimed just how much he enjoyed silver hair on girls. The light-toned blue colours are actually appropriate to you if you have actually taken childbirth in the month January. Leather dyeing is actually a bit of a fine art, but along with some method, you can easily grasp it and also transform your, old no longer fashionable different colors to brand-new shades. Although this little guy seems bi-colored, he will certainly become a gorgeous dark Silkie. In time, their eyes adjust to the globe around and also feel better at seeing illumination, shade and also forms. Gradually, they can easily become just like pricey as laser procedures and also do little more than bleach dark ink colours lighter. You understand there are loads of teeth brightening alternatives available, therefore choose one that corrects for you and do the greatest you can to bleach away blemishes as well as all-natural colour improvements. I have consistently believed being actually black will be a lot more for a woebegone collar white colored male or Beautiful2018.Info even low revenue white guy.While their eyesight is really similar to that of human beings in the course of daytime hrs, the large cat does certainly not possess the capacity to determine the exact same top quality of detail as us. This is actually not definitely a downside, nonetheless, as it possesses no bearing on their potential to hunt.If you are actually a company trying to get company as well as intend to obtain someone to check out your information, coloured envelopes would certainly be a great base as it would be one thing that would be actually don't forgotten. While pink certainly never appeared as well appealing to me, I began to look at it with various eyes considering that i created the short article:-RRB- Many thanks, WriterArtist, for coming by.For the more complicated little bits or even where the summary changeover an aspect of the photo which has an identical colour, it is actually finest to make use of additional nodules. Certainly not merely that but it is an unfavorable phase of lifestyle where you might have some center grow older spreading that might be highlighted by one design of hairstyle.

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spoonie-living · 6 years

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[Image: a digitally-created “ink brush” painting featuring a tree bowed by the wind, petals flowing from its branches, on a beige backdrop with a bright red moon.]

5 Games to Inspire Calm Chiara Scotellaro, The Millennial Patient

Are you looking for an activity to help you achieve calmness in your day? Something that you can incorporate into your self-care routine which is always within reach?

One of my favourite methods of bringing calmness into my day is through games and apps, which are a readily accessible solution as I always have my phone within arms reach. I regularly use games and apps as part of my self care and mindfulness routine. Below the cut are 5 games that help me relax and bring me tranquility if I’ve been feeling stressed or restless.

[Image: a modern stylized landscape of blue mountains against a starry sky. “Monument Valley” is displayed across the top of the image, and a white figure in pointed hat and dress stands atop a pedestal.]

Monument Valley

Monument Valley is a beautifully designed atmospheric puzzle game developed by Ustwo Games. The gameplay consists of helping princess Ida through an Escheresque maze which shifts and morphs around her. And thanks to its beautiful artwork, playing Monument is like walking through my favourite drawings.

Puzzle games normally chew up my spoons, so the best part of this game is that the less I try to think of a solution, the more likely I am to solve the puzzle. Playing Monument Valley is more about clearing my mind and exploring. It’s perfect for when I’m tired but want to do something a bit more engaging than watch tv.

This is a great puzzle game if you have cognitive fatigue and a fun approach to mindfulness.

Monument Valley on iTunes Monument Valley on Google Play

[Image: a silhouette of a small, thin tree on uneven terrain, all black against a beige sky with a bright red moon peeking down from the top. “prune” is written between tree and moon.]

Prune

Prune is a pretty and wonderfully minimalistic game by Joel McDonald where you cultivate a tree to grow in certain directions so it can reach the light. You do this by pruning branches with a swipe of your finger; then you watch it grow in hopes it will flourish in the light of the sun.

I love this game because I love bonsai, but the real thing never lasts long in my care. This game is my pocket bonsai and my alternative to pottering in the garden for relaxation. Just like Monument Valley, it promotes exploration and helps clear my mind. There is no need for overthinking—if I just play and vary my approaches, the solution will come.

This game is perfect for when you just want a few minutes of quiet, and it’s ideal for waiting rooms at the doctor's office!

Prune on iTunes Prune on Google Play

[Image: an undersea scape with schools of fish in the background. A diver is swimming downward and touching a reflection of themself in what appears to be the top of a (second) body of water. “Abzû” is displayed in thin letters at the top.]

Abzû

Abzû is described as an adventure art video game developed by Giant Squid Studios. However, for me, Abzû is more of an experience than a game.

In Abzû, you are a diver exploring the ocean and restoring life through the use of magical springs. I get to explore various underwater environments, swim with whales, ride a turtle, or just meditate on a rocky outcrop and watch the aquatic life swim around me. It’s quite short, and the puzzles may seem simple, but it just feels amazing to play. I only wish I could play the VR version next time.

This game really fills my need for new experiences when I’ve been housebound for too long. It’s the next best thing to visiting the aquarium and the closest thing to going diving as I can get at the moment. I just love love love this game!

Abzû on Steam

[Image: on a background of mountains and a night sky, a logo with a band of yellow at the top and four icons: a cross, a sword, a person, and a dollar sign. “Reigns” is displayed below this in gray, angular block letters.]

Reigns

Reigns is a text-based game developed by Devolver Digital in which you play the role of a medieval monarch. Gameplay is super simple and consists of storyline cards which ask you to decide between two choices. You make your decision by either swiping left or right (sound familiar? 😉). The choices you make will determine the fate of your monarchy as well as those you rule. You play through many reigns—some spanning decades, others barely lasting a day.

Unlike the other games in this list, the theme of this game isn't the calming element here, in fact, this game has a lot of dark humour in it. For me, the calming aspect here is the gameplay, it brings me calm through distraction. What I like most about Reigns is that gameplay is very short, your monarch's reign can often last only a minute or two. It also doesn't require much concentration or logic because there's no way of predicting the outcomes of your choices.

For me, Reigns is a brain fog friendly alternative to puzzle games and another great game to play in waiting rooms. I just swipe left or right and await the next twist in the story.

Reigns on iTunes Reigns on Google Play Reigns on Steam

[Image: “Magic Piano” written in sky blue and black bubble letters against a background of a keyboard, clouds, and abstract green lights.]

Magic Piano

Magic Piano by Smule allows you to play your favourite piano music on your phone or tablet. Music is one of the most effective ways for me to find calmness and joy. And playing the music yourself, just like dancing or singing, elevates the whole experience. Magic Piano makes playing music accessible by showing me the notes to play.

Despite having no musical ability and limited dexterity in my fingers, I can still play along with my favourite songs on my tablet. I can also change the difficulty depending on the stiffness of my hands. Much like Guitar Hero, it allows me to live out my rockstar fantasies despite my complete lack of skill. My favourite thing to do at the end of the day is play Moonlight Sonata to slow things right down.

Word of warning with this game: I started experiencing vertigo a while ago, and the scrolling colours began to trigger headaches. I’ve had to stop playing it as a result. If you have similar problems, you might want to give this one a pass.

Magic Piano on iTunes Magic Piano on Google Play

These games are a regular part of my wind-down time and have provided me with varied options to creating calm in my day. Just like music, a cup of tea, or a warm bath they help me transition from busyness to stillness. They provide me with just enough escapism to help me let go of the day's problems and get into a different mindscape, but are not so utterly engrossing that I lose hours to gameplay.

If you have games or apps that help you achieve calmness, then please feel welcome to share your recommendations in the comments or via a reblog!

Chiara Scotellaro was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 2011 and has dedicated her time to helping others learn how to manage life with a chronic illness ever since. An experienced Mental Health peer worker, she has helped others in their recovery journeys by sharing her knowledge and experience on navigating life’s challenges with a chronic illness.

You can check out more of her work at her blog, The Millennial Patient, or follow her on Twitter @PatientGenY.

#spoonie #chronic illness #disability #invisible illness #chronic life #games #ios #android #steam #entertainment #calm #calming #mindfulness #brain fog #arthritis #housebound #gardening #contributor

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tigerrobot · 6 years

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Best days of our lives?

We were born only a day apart. Our mothers were at the same hospital at the same time. She was, apparently, a difficult labour while I was out in just over 6 hours. We first met at a playground when we were 2 and have been nearly inseparable since.

Amelia. My best friend. My sister. My backup, my bodyguard, my therapist, my confidant. Without her, I couldn't do what I do.

When I started down this path I tried to go it alone believing, like so many others, that letting someone in put them at risk. And, like those solitary heroes, I learned the hard way that we all need help.

The funny part was, I didn't need her to protect me from the monsters of the night. Those I could deal with on my own, magic did most of the work for me. Nah, sometimes the real monsters were other people.

"Hey, freak!" The boys laughed and ran down the hall, jostling with each other and acting like they just came up with the greatest insult to ever be heard. As a 17 year old decked out in tattoos, you became hardened quickly.

"Real mature, jerk-offs." Amelia scoffed at them and shook her head before turning back to me. "Seriously, they think they are clever or something? They could at least make fun of your silly hair." She playfully nudged me and smiled. She was the one who shaved my head for my side-cut.

"Right? Oh, you know, I haven't been asked what biker gang I'm part of recently. They could have used that one even." I rolled my eyes and smirked sideways at Amelia and continued to class.

3rd period came right after lunch. Amelia had chemistry and I was off to art. It was one of my favourite subjects because Mrs. Avery was one of the only teachers in the school who made me feel like I was normal. Of course, she thought my tattoos were just a form of self-expression rather than a weapon and a shield for the sake of humanity, but, hey, it was better than most people gave me. And it helped that I was good at art.

As we got to the intersection that would separate us for the next hour and a half, Amelia grabbed my hand and gave a slight squeeze. "Have fun! See you in P.E.!"

"Yep. Hey, don't go blowing anything up without me. I don't think the school could afford -another- chemistry lab." We both laughed and parted ways.

Last year, I caught a vampire squatting in the school. I'm typically non-violent unless I have to be and this vamp didn't give me that option. A story for another time but a scuffle ensued and the school suddenly had to make an insurance claim for a gas leak that led to the old chem. lab exploding. Oops.

I had been seriously drawing since I was 12. Every tattoo I had, I had drawn for the artists to ink. So I was used to making clean lines, transitioning into less functional art had been easy. In grade 9 we had learned the fundamentals and Mrs. Avery was so impressed with how quickly I picked it up, she insisted I keep taking her class. Apparently it had paid off because she had got in touch with a colleague of hers from a university in New York that wanted to meet me. While university was still another 7 months away, I guess it was important to think about this stuff ahead of time. And New York did sound exciting.

Art class was pretty uneventful. Perspective, use of colour, shading. During the ample down time a defender of the night who was also a teenager had, I would draw as my escape from everything else. And I was a notorious researcher, so most of what we learned in class, I had already been playing with on my own. A couple of the other kids, who considered themselves artfully gifted, always gave me sidelong glances, like they were trying to measure themselves against me. That was something I was never interested in. How well someone else did something had no baring on how well I did it, nor would it make what I was doing any less important to me. It wouldn't have been so bad had any of them taken the time to talk to me. I would have been more than happy to chat about technique with someone else who wasn't Mrs. Avery.

Phys. Ed. was another story though. Since I didn't look like the other girls, the change room was frightening place and I spent as little time there as possible. Amelia did her best to casually shield me and, so long as she was there, most of the other girls left me alone. Amelia was popular, traditionally pretty, and a complete bad-ass if you got on her 'bad' side. Hell, she made me look like a bunny rabbit when she got mad. High school would have been a literal Hell if it wasn't for her.

Unfortunately, she couldn't protect me all the time. Today she had to stay late in chem. class to talk to Mr. Forscyth about her paper. He was a good guy, a good teacher, but Amelia was nearly above his ability to teach. She absorbed S.T.E.M. information the way I absorbed the occult. She had been working on recreating a simple paper-based test to find your blood type and was showing him the research papers she had been following so that he could get a better understanding of what she was doing. THAT was thinking about university.

The other girls saw me walk in and waited a few moments to see if Amelia followed behind. When they didn't a sinister gleam came to their eyes and they descended.

"Hey Penelope! We never get a chance to chat without Amelia around. It's really a shame, you seem like you'd be really fun to hang out with." One of them said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

"Oh, yeah, all those tattoos. It's really cool how you don't care what you look like. Those torn jeans and that old, beat-up leather jacket create such an air of mystique about you." Another remarked, barely containing her sarcasm.

"You should TOTALLY come to my party this weekend!" A third exclaimed, excitedly turning to her friends.

The fourth member of the group snickered, the first of them to break the act, as she said "Sure, but aren't we all a little old to be getting a clown for the party?" And they all started laughing. But, unlike on TV, they didn't disperse. And I knew they wouldn't. Without Amelia around, they could finally get out all of the hatred that they'd had to hold inside.

They had formed a semi-circle around me, my back basically against a wall. I'd have to physically push past them to get away. I shook my head at their attempts to anger me. It wasn't that I was zen or anything like that. People like this group had always been around, always looking to tear me down for whatever reason. And it wasn't that it didn't effect me. I could act like the stoic hero, act like nothing ever phased me and just roll with the punches, but nobody is that dead inside, not even some of the zombies I've squared off against.

"Oh, look, she's trying to be stoic! It's adorable! Come on, freakshow, just admit you don't belong here, run along home, and stop infecting our change room with your presence." Ah, the leader, standing up and being strong with her posse at her back. My hands balled into fists and I could feel the desire to channel a spell into them. How easy it would be to stop this forever, release a blast of energy into her chest and launch her across the room. Or whisper a word and turn them against each other. But magic wasn't to be used against non-magic folks. Even if some of them were worse than half the monsters I had to deal with.

"Good one. I really loved that bit about me not belonging here. I guess to belong at this school I need to have my parents pay off the teachers?" A rumor had been spread about the lead girl falling a class or two last year but her parents really wanted to take her on a trip to Sweden in the summer, and so taking classes just wouldn't do. A donation was made to the school and that little problem went away. By the way she reacted, either it wasn't just a rumor or she had gotten really sick of hearing it. She reached out and shoved me, causing me to fall back, my shoulder striking the wall behind me.

"You know what? We were wrong, you aren't a clown, you aren't even funny. You are just a waste of skin, but looking at it, it wasn't skin anyone else would have wanted anyway. You should feel blessed that I even bother to acknowledge your existence, goblin." And one of her lackey's grabbed my gym bag. I reached out to contest it but was again pushed against the wall.

"We'll do you a favour. You may be filth, but at least your clothes can be clean." The one who grabbed my bag walked into the showers and turned one on, leaving my bag sitting right under it. They all started cackling but stopped abruptly as Amelia walked in.

She saw them, cornering me, and I saw her eyes going through a quick assessment. My bag missing. I watched as her eyes hardened and he stalked forward.

"April, how convenient I got to run into you. Mrs. Ricter says that if you expect to graduate next semester, it's going to cost a lot more than last summer did at this rate. Teresa, I heard from Tommy that you have until tomorrow to return that dress you stole from the mall or they will be calling the cops, the agreement your parents worked out be damned." She looked at the 3rd girl with a look of pure digust but said nothing. Then her eyes fell on the fourth, the one who had just come out of the showers where she could now see my gym bag sitting on the floor.

I swear, she didn't even breath as she walk toward her. The girl started backing away, ending up in the showers herself. Amelia continued to stalk toward her and, while I couldn't see her face now, I imagined smoke billowing from her nostrils like a big momma dragon. The girl backed into a stall and Amelia reached out. The girl made herself smaller, shirking away from Amelia's hand. Amelia simply turned on the water and walked away.

On her way out she grabbed my bag and came back to me. While she was cornering their friend in the showers, the other 3 had left, barely able to maintain their composure and stop themselves from running from her.

"Come on. I'll tell Mrs. Frank that we have some work for yearbook that you are helping me with and we'll get out of here. You okay?" Amelia looked at me, worry in her eyes. I didn't want her to see it but a pair of tears rolled down my cheeks. More out of happiness that I had a friend like her than at anything those harpies had spat at me but I couldn't deny what they said had hurt.

She did as she said and Mrs. Frank didn't even question it. We walked out to her car, she tossed my wet bag into the trunk, not caring that it might get the carpeting back there soaked, and we headed to her place. Her parents wouldn't be home for another hour or so, and we could just veg out, watch some Steven Universe, eat way too much junk food, and completely ruin our appetites for dinner.

I love my best friend.

#original fiction #female protagonist #pen's tales

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