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warcats-cat · 2 months

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Please please tell me about printers, I would like to know <b>everything</b>

You asked for it /lh

Ok so some clarification: I spent three years at Staples working with a Xerox C70 color laser printer, so that's where my "expertise" lies.

FIRST OFF - DO NOT EVER GET YOUR PHOTOS PRINTED AT A STAPLES/OFFICE MAX/FEDEX/UPS/ANY OTHER OFFICE STORE!!!!!

All office stores (that I have been to) use laser printers. Laser printers are high capacity (meaning they can print loads of stuff before the toner needs to be changed), and use toner, which is a powder version of the ink that is electrically fixed and baked onto the paper. (Forgive the oversimplification) This means that the color will not soak into the paper/past the coating if there is one. So, if you want a glossy photo printed, you will literally be baking the color over top of the gloss, and the color will not be glossy. It will be ugly. I've made like at least 300 family photos and other shit on a laser printer. Don't do it.

Sometimes you can play with the printer settings (the Xerox C70 has pretty in-depth settings because obv it's for office printing) and you can set the color load to be "glossy" but that really just means a thicker layer of toner. It's a little shinier but not glossy.

Also, laser printers just can't get that tight, crisp color quality that an inkjet can. So many people came in wanting to make their Christmas cards with these ultra high quality photos and wanted them cheap and same-day, and then would complain that they were "fuzzy". Personally, I always thought they looked fine, but white suburban mom Karens complained all the damn time about the "fuzziness" of their fancy professional photos. Inkjet can get the crisp, sharp lines that you see in digital photos and art, whereas the toner, being powder based, just can't quite get it.

ALSO also! The colors on your computer screen will always be a little brighter and nicer than what comes out of the printer! That is because your computer is back lit, it's shining light at your eyes. Paper cannot do that, so sometimes the colors look a little "dark" or "muddy". Personally, I've seen this with really light lavender, beige, and cyan the worst. Combine this with the more limited scope of color mixing with a laser printer, and sometimes you get weird ass colors coming out. If you have a specific idea for your colors, inkjet is the better bet.

Tldr: get your photos printed at Walgreens or Walmart, or send them somewhere that specializes in photo printing.

There are two main categories of printers, Laser and Inkjet. You have an inkjet if you have a printer in your home.

Inkjet printers have the liquid ink in the cartridge, that's why you have to wait a little bit before it dries, especially for specialty papers or really old printers. The liquid ink can soak into the paper/through the coating, so that's where you get the nice glossy photo prints. ((You can also buy sheets of primed canvas for inkjet printers, which is super cool and I definitely have a bunch of it for some of my favorite digital artworks from friends)).

Ink can come in two types - dye based and pigment based. You have dye based ink if you have a printer at home. Pigment based inkjet is for like,,, the top of the top art printing. It's expensive as hell, but it doesn't fade from light exposure, like dye ink can. (Don't worry, the things you print at home are not likely to fade very much, unless you have them in direct light and never turn the lights off. I have seen photos fade because of light exposure, but that's because Staples never turns any of the lights off for whatever reason, and we had printed pictures using the poster printer to get the nice gloss without realizing.) Pigment based is also apparently a powder, but I'll be honest I don't know how it's fixed to the paper. I assume heat as well. (I've never gotten to work with a pigment printer, I only know about them because I was looking for good printers to print art and found out about them, then I saw the price tag and was like lolol)

When buying specialty paper to print on (like photo paper or canvas), you need to check the label!!!! There are papers designed for laser printers that can withstand the heat and accept the toner, and there are papers designed for inkjet that can hold the liquid ink as it soaks through. The coating on an inkjet safe paper is not as heat resistant as ones made for laser. If you put it in the laser printer, the coating will melt, and you will ruin the internal machinery. I have seen it happen. Don't do it.

Speaking of specialty paper! Have you ever heard of pearlized paper??? It's my favorite paper!!! It's sparkly!!!! 😍

Pearlized paper is typically for laser printing; I've tried to print on it with an inkjet but it came out looking really weird. It's shimmery without having chunky glitter on top that will fall off and go everywhere. Go to your local Staples and ask if they have pearlized paper, just to look at. Pictures can't do it justice. (My business cards for my fairies are printed on soft pearl, which is ivory colored, because I printed and made them myself so I got to do what I wanted /lh) We mainly used it for weddings and stuff, but I recommended for all kinds of stuff because I thought it was so cool.

Other papers: the two main types of paper you will work with at home are regular paper and cardstock. Cardstock just means thick. Both can come in tons of cool colors and textures (linen texture is my personal favorite, you usually buy it as 'resume' or 'business' paper.) you know how thick a piece of paper is by its "weight" which is measured in pounds. I don't know why it's measured in pounds, it just is.

If you want a nice quality paper to print on that's still flexible and foldable, you want to look for something that's 24-30lbs. Typical cheap copier paper is 20lbs, and a lot of the time you can see through it, i.e. if you print something double sided you'll be able to see a little of the text on the back showing through. I have found that 24lbs is thin enough to be more affordable (per ream), but thick enough to not have the bleed through. We had a 32lb paper that was thick nice thickness and super smooth, and we called it "ultra premium". It was nice, but I wouldn't print like flyers and stuff on it. I did a lot of booklets with that one.

If you're gonna get a cardstock, get something 60~lbs and up. 65lb is a really good thickness if you're printing coloring pages because it soaks up the marker ink and holds it nicely. Use 100lb if you're making a coloring *book* that's going to be double sided.

Cardstock cannot be machine folded without a really heavy duty machine, and it's very annoying because those machines are usually at the high-volume production centers and not in-house, so customers complain that they have to wait for their booklets. >.>

When working with business cards, post cards, and the like, you will hear about "bleed area" or "print to bleed". That just means whether or not the ink can go all the way to the very edge of whatever is being printed. When you design a business card or other card to be printed, you will typically have a bleed area, where you want the background to go a little farther than the actual size of the card to allow for cutting, but you want to keep any important text or photos to a certain area so it doesn't accidentally get cut off. The bleed area is not a negotiation. If you don't have space for the bleed, something will get cut off.

At Staples, our business cards were 2x3.5 inches, but the designs had to be about 2.25x3.75 to allow for bleed. The number of times I had to go in and manually fix some idiot's card because they didn't understand what a bleed was is absolutely absurd.

You can get full page size (8.5x11) printed to bleed, for things like flyers with special borders and letter heads, but those also require specialized printers that are at the production facility. The number of people who outright refused to understand this was also absurd. If you have a printer at home, there is a 99.99% chance it is not able to print to bleed for a full 8.5x11, and that's why you still have a white edge if you try to print something that is supposed to have color all the way to the edge of the paper.

My final bit of advice before I end my rant: when you're financially independent and able to/want to buy your own printer, if you plan on making your own art prints to sell, do NOT get an HP printer. HP is fine for general use, it prints well and it's pretty ink-efficient, but it's just not got the super fine quality. Brother and Canon are the two brands I personally recommend for art and photography; they're more expensive but they have a really nice quality of printing. I had to do a lot of training for HP printers and computers, and it's a lot of big words that mean very little in the grand scheme of things.

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lighthousekeepers-burner-blog · 8 months

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the irony is before covid and the climate crisis kicked into full gear I was the neighborhood skeptic, my first incarnation of this blog (Clever Beast) was all that, a mania of skeptical pursuits but closely aligned with a healthy criticism of scientism. oh 2008. then the world went batshit, and for many people today anything scientific that doesn't perfectly align with taste got siloed out of existence. now you can mix and match realities to suit your lifestyle. it's enough to make a postmodern postdoc blush.

I still want science to be scrutinized, there's a whole lot wrong, particularly with the institutions funding it and where it doesn't go. As with anything, there are trailblazers that defy the groupthink and make revolutions, and also just solid day-to-day science being done by smart, professional, talented people. I didn't say that enough before, but jesus, in 2023, lets bang some pots and pans for these servants of stoicism.

since 2020 I have spent more and more time reading scientific papers, following scientists, absorbing minutiae of shit I didn't even know existed. I'm no scientist, and my reading is more as an information specialist, and having a lot of time to see how pieces of data interact with other pieces of data, how consensus shifts and evolves. I operate from the primary opinion that people smarter than me know what they are talking about and their consensus on issues pertaining to my health insofar as their opinions are not outright bought by corporations, have greater weight to me than say, Dr Mike's Youtube's channel. That science has a talent for weeding out the shit, although too rigorously it can lose some of the nuances, so it's sometimes necessary to integrate the scientific consensus within a larger framekwork of understanding that can take into consideration human faculties beyond reason to assess value.

The science says we're fucked. climate scientists are losing their shit, and being very unscientific with their hyperbole, and even the fucking Pope is out there dooming away, and the Pope is always twenty years behind the zeitgeist, so you got a good idea of where we are now. and Covid. We don't even know the 5 year prognosis of the disease, and people are pretending it is over. not epidemologists, immunologists, the ones that have been consistently right, over and over, as the minimizers have been trying to downplay the crisis these last three years. Their expert opinions are dire as well. It's affecting fertility, brain chemistry, diabetes, immune systems, we don't have individual all-star variants anymore, we have soups of variants, so that repeat infections are easier to get closer together. and repeat infections are increased chance of long covid, and while minimizers love pointing at deaths as some marker of progress (though awfully silent pre-vaccines) I would rather be dead then experience what some of the long haulers of covid go through, and I read about on a daily basis. At-risk. we are ALL AT-RISK. Co-morbidities... fucking professional athletes are dropping dead, and you want to fat shame us.

Everyone has a threshold for bad news. Seems like a lot of people it is magical thinking to erase it all from their minds, a pandemic ptsd, anxiety, just low tolerance for reality. Ok. Problem is we need to dig ourselves out of this, and the people that can see this clearly, are clamoring for your attention. Denial of reality will kill us all, will kill us faster. I don't know what the best approach is, I don't know how to turn this ship around, but we need to start acknowledging some basics of reality, and be civic-minded, and give a shit about each other. It was dumb but I liked the banging of pots and pans for nurses. it was the last time I felt like I was part of a society. I don't want to pretend anymore. it makes it all more depressing to me. Even a loud minority can make significant changes, it's a weird glitch in the democratic system. We just need to process reality more, being cognizant of facts, speak up when people lie, speak up when people tell the truth, disseminate information the way the media is supposed to do, vote, donate, give a shit. It's good to feel.

this is an unedited rant but you get the idea. wake up, please, wake up. we need you.

#rant #covid #climate change #climate crisis #science #long covid

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smartycvnt · 2 years

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Undercover

Pairing: Jacy Jayne x Reader Warnings: smut, switch Jacy, switch reader, vaginal fingering

Sneaking around wasn't ideal, but you had aligned yourself with Alba whenever the news came that you'd be moving to America. It was too late to go back on that now, and you were sure that soon enough, things would be different. Mandy was set to drop her title to debut on the main roster with Gigi and Jacy in either December or January. You were happy for Jacy, even if you were conflicted about how that would affect your schedules. As you checked yourself into a hotel room for the night, you realized that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing. The promotion meant a raise, which meant she could get her own place and you would be able to stay there overnight instead of having to sneak around so much. You felt like it was only a matter of time before someone figured out what you were doing anyways.

"God, took you long enough," Jacy said as you got out of the elevator. "Did that crazy bitch follow you here?"

"Nobody followed me here, relax. It might not even be that bad if it gets out that we're together," you said. Jacy gave you a look, like she felt bad for you genuinely believing that. You brushed it off and walked towards the room the two of you had for the night. Jacy wouldn't stay overnight because she never did, but maybe you would for once. Alba was hanging out with people tonight, and had invited you, but you opted out to meet up with Jacy instead.

You could feel Jacy watching you as the two of you walked into the room. A part of you was surprised that Jacy had come to the hotel after the fight you had earlier in the week. You had nearly been caught sneaking into her apartment, and Jacy had freaked out. She had said a lot of things that you knew she didn't mean, but they had still hurt. Somehow, she had still been the one to storm off claiming that she needed space. You had waited for some sort of apology or text that things were over, but instead you woke up a few days later to a bag sitting on your front porch with a couple of things from Jacy inside of it. She hadn't left a note or anything aside from a piece of paper with your name taped to the outside of the bag. You had recognized the handwriting as hers, but luckily Alba hadn't.

"I'm going to be very relaxed here in a minute," Jacy said as she crowded into your space. You went to take a step towards the bed when you felt Jacy toss you forward a little. You landed on the bed with a small thud and rolled onto your back to look up at Jacy. She tossed her jacket onto the desk chair before bending down slowly to undo the straps of her heels. You knew that she wanted you to look at her, so you happily complied. It wasn't a difficult task, keeping your eyes on her as she moved towards you. Jacy liked the attention, and in all honesty you liked giving it to her.

"Did you bring anything?" you asked. Jacy shook her head as she knelt down onto the bed next to your head. You placed your hands on her hips and slowly moved them up, pushing the bottom of her shirt as you went. Jacy wasted no time in just taking her shirt and bra off. She placed her hand on the back of your head and pulled you down to her chest. You took the hint and wrapped your lips around one of her nipples while teasing the other with your hand. Jacy kept leaning back until you were on top of her, which you took as the sign that she was giving you a little more control. You lifted your head up from her chest and kissed her. Jacy opened her mouth, allowing for your tongue to explore her mouth. Jacy's hands snuck under your shirt as she pushed it up your torso. She broke the kiss to take it off you.

You sat back for a moment, leaning more of your weight on her legs than there had been before. Jacy sat up as her fingers trailed across your hips and along your sides. Her hand reached up to unclip your bra, leaving you in the same state as her. Jacy didn't waste any time in gaining the upper hand for herself and began pushing your pants down your hips. You stood up and took off the rest of your clothing for her. Jacy pulled you back onto the bed and kissed you. It felt frantic, but not rushed. The way Jacy's hands slowly moved over your skin was contradictory to the way that she was kissing you. Jacy knew what she could rush through and what had to be approached slowly.

The trust between the two of you could be shaky at times, so Jacy tried slowing down when you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. She was careful not to corner you with your pants down, figuratively or literally, whenever the two of you were alone. She took her time in undressing you before placing your hands onto her body. The two of you mirrored each other's movements as your hands found their way in between each other's legs. Jacy shifted her hips forward, pushing your fingers inside of her. Her free hand came up to grab at the hair on the back of your head. She pulled your head back a little, just enough to expose the length of your neck. You didn't know specifically what she had planned to do, but you were more than happy to let her do what she wanted.

"You're so wet, making a mess all over my hand," Jacy teased with a slightly malicious tone to her voice. She pulled her hand out from between your legs to show you the wetness that coated her fingers. They hadn't been inside of you, and since Jacy knew that you could cum without it, there was a chance that she wouldn't. She liked having the bragging rights of being able to make you cum without technically fucking you. "I should make you lick it all up, but I'm not finished with you yet."

Jacy's words made your stomach drop. Her hand moved back down in between your legs as she tugged your body against hers. She kissed you roughly as her fingers rubbed against your clit quickly. She could tell that she was close and wanted to outlast you. You could start to feel her tighten around your fingers as her hips stuttered a little. Jacy broke the kiss to bury her face into your shoulder, just barely muffling moans against your skin. Her fingers didn't stop rubbing against you as she came. You moved your hips to grind against them and add onto the friction, hopeful that you would catch up to her before she decided that she was done touching you. You swore for a moment that you felt her start to pull her hand back a little, so your hands shot down to hold her wrist there.

"So fucking needy," Jacy muttered as she kissed your jaw. You didn't bother to try and argue with her. Your focus was better put towards chasing down your orgasm. Jacy was careful with her timing, managing to kiss you just in time to cover your mouth as you began screaming out. As much as she loved the sound of her name being screamed out from your mouth in pleasure, she didn't need the noise complaint you'd surely get from that. Jacy let go of you, allowing you to fall back onto the bed as she walked over to the closet to look for the stupidly fluffy robes she knew would be there.

"You're coming back, right?" you asked as Jacy moved over to where her gear bag was. You knew that she kept makeup and a few things to fix her hair in there, so your fear that you'd be left alone here all night was valid.

"Yeah, in a minute. I want to take all this shit off my face first," Jacy said as she pointed towards her smeared makeup. You wrapped yourself in a blanket and watched her wipe everything away. You hadn't put any makeup on after your post-match shower since you didn't have any sort of segment to film. True to her word, once Jacy's face was clean, she came back to the bed where you were waiting so patiently for her. "We've got an early check out tomorrow, but I don't have anything to do all day."

"Are you asking me out?" you asked. Jacy nodded as she rolled onto her stomach and moved to settle on top of you. "I think I'd like that."

"Great, I know the perfect place. It's a bit of a drive, but I promise we'll have a good time," Jacy said. You smiled, knowing that she must have planned this beforehand. It wasn't a very big gesture, but it meant that she thought about you outside of the hotel rooms where your relationship primarily took place.

#wwe x reader #wwe #wwe imagine #wwe imagines #jacy jayne imagines #jacy jayne imagine #jacy jayne x reader #jacy jayne

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8054yamato · 2 months

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I am in constant form and brain lagged

Sometimes I perform sequences of actions purely due to my intrusive thoughts. Obviously the worst ones would get filtered out, but the actions I perform would be the abnormal and most cringe-inducing ones. For example, after getting out of the shower and getting ready to dress, once in a blue moon I would put on my clothes in weird orders. The most recent one in order was socks, shirt, underwear, then sweatpants. Why? I do not know. It just happens.

James Clear once said that "if you can get 1% better each day for one year, you'll end up [about 37.78] times better by the time you're done", but what if it is the other way around? Before that, let us delve into the finer details.

Technically, you can view anything you do as an 'improvement'. Famous phrases like "look at the bright side" or expressions of that nature exist for you to calm you down; to give you an excuse to not feel as bad, and in some cases, not at all for whatever you may have done. In that sense, everything you do is, strictly speaking, an improvement.

Like many other words, the definition of improvement is open for interpretation. That is why many laws are open for interpretation. As a judge in court, you will be biased and your feelings will be involved in a case no matter how objective you want to or perceive to be. Your perspective will always be involved and will be the determining factor of that case. No matter what the plaintiff or defendant may argue for or against, you will have the final word. Your decision in that moment can be one's nightmare but will also be a relief to another. Your ruling can kill off one just as fast you can bring another up.

So how can we tell if we are improving? It is entirely based off perspective. To seek an answer, you must ask yourself what you want to improve at and in what direction?

Confusing or unclear? Maybe. Let us expand on this idea.

The first half is self explanatory. What aspect do we want to focus on? Your answer to this can be broad or specific and there is no correct answer.

The second half should not be an afterthought, but rather take on the role of being the fuel for your desire. Your answer to this widely varies on what you want for the first half. However, unlike the first half, if your answer for this is too broad, it will be more susceptible for excuses to seep through and destroy what you are building because you have no clear goal.

Here are some examples:

I want to start becoming a better human being. To do that, I need to improve on myself.

You can see that person's desire is to become a "better human being" which is the first half of the question. The latter is them saying "I need to improve on myself". On paper, that sounds great. However, it is not clear on the aspects in which they want to improve on. On their journey to become a better human being, they might neglect or develop bad habits that, in hindsight, will affect them negatively. For example, they can work on losing weight, but if they obsess on that feature too much, they may develop body-dysphoria, anorexia, and related issues.

My father wants me to be a nurse and my mother is requiring me to take over her real estate when I get successful. To do that, I need to study nursing of science, real-estate related business, and economics.

Although a lot of work, the second half is great. You have a solid understanding on what to do. It does not mean it is so strict that you have every hour planned out, but it also is not so loose that you will be too susceptible to build bad habits because you decided to intake information that is under a smaller umbrella. So what about the first half?

"Does it still count as improvement even if it is not what I want?"

Yes, it is still improvement. If your actions and the second half aligns, that is clear evidence you are improving. Even if you are not content with it, if it is within your goal and you are progressing through it, you are improving.

"Does that mean I should ignore what I truly want for myself?"

That depends on yourself. Ponder and wonder. Sit with yourself for that one because no one but yourself can answer that for you. What the general public thinks does not matter because it is not their business.

I want to be able to play instruments well. For that, I will learn and practice the piano and violin everyday for at least an hour each instrument. My goal is to play pieces of relatively greater difficulty with great clarity and commendable performance.

Splendid. You have a clear want. The aspects you want to improve at is clear. Not much to be said.

As you perform these actions in an effort to improve, your perspective will see them as improvements. However, other people may have a different opinion. Your improvement can be someone's downgrade. That is the power of perspective.

To answer the original question, you will simply become ~39.19x worse over one year. There was no need to delve into great detail to answer that.

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arcprint2023 · 2 months

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Custom Notebook Printing: Quality Materials Matter

When it comes to custom notebook printing, the choice of materials plays a significant role in determining the overall quality and durability of the final product. In this comprehensive guide, we will explore the importance of selecting high-quality materials for custom notebooks, as well as delve into various options and considerations to ensure that your notebooks are not only visually appealing but also built to last.

Importance of Quality Materials

1. Durability and Longevity

Impact on Lifespan: Discuss how the quality of materials directly affects the durability and longevity of custom notebooks.

Investment in Quality: Highlight the value of investing in notebooks made from premium materials to ensure they withstand daily wear and tear.

2. Enhanced User Experience

Writing Comfort: Explore how quality paper and cover materials contribute to a better writing experience for users.

Professional Appearance: Emphasize how notebooks made from high-quality materials exude professionalism and sophistication, leaving a positive impression on users.

Paper Quality

1. Weight and Thickness

Considerations: Discuss the importance of selecting paper with the appropriate weight and thickness based on the intended use of the notebook.

Options Available: Explore different paper weights and thicknesses commonly used in custom notebook printing and their respective benefits.

2. Texture and Finish

Tactile Experience: Highlight how the texture and finish of paper can impact the tactile experience of writing or drawing in the notebook.

Options for Customization: Discuss various texture and finish options available, such as smooth, textured, matte, or glossy finishes, and their suitability for different designs.

Cover Materials

1. Sturdiness and Protection

Protective Function: Explain how the cover material provides protection for the pages inside the notebook against damage and wear.

Options Available: Explore common cover materials used in custom notebook printing, including cardstock, leather, fabric, and synthetic materials.

2. Customization and Branding

Brand Representation: Discuss how the choice of cover material can contribute to brand representation and identity, especially for corporate or promotional notebooks.

Personalization Options: Highlight customization options available for cover materials, such as embossing, debossing, foil stamping, or printing designs and logos.

Binding Methods

1. Strength and Flexibility

Secure Binding: Examine different binding methods used in custom notebook printing, such as spiral binding, saddle stitching, perfect binding, or sewn binding, and their respective strengths and weaknesses.

Flexibility in Use: Discuss how the choice of binding method impacts the flexibility and usability of the notebook, especially in terms of laying flat or folding back pages.

2. Aesthetic Appeal

Visual Impact: Explore how the binding method contributes to the overall aesthetic appeal of the notebook, complementing the design and layout of the pages.

Options for Customization: Highlight customization options available for binding methods, such as colored coils, thread stitching, or hidden bindings, to enhance the visual appeal of the notebook.

Eco-Friendly Options

1. Sustainable Materials

Environmental Impact: Address the growing demand for eco-friendly and sustainable materials in custom notebook printing, considering factors such as recycled paper, FSC-certified wood pulp, or vegetable-based inks.

Customer Preferences: Discuss how offering eco-friendly options aligns with customer preferences and values, attracting environmentally conscious consumers.

2. Green Production Practices

Responsibility in Manufacturing: Highlight the importance of partnering with printing companies that prioritize green production practices, such as energy-efficient processes, waste reduction, and responsible sourcing of materials.

Certifications and Standards: Explore certifications and standards related to eco-friendly printing, such as the Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) certification, and their significance in ensuring sustainable practices throughout the production chain.

Conclusion

Quality materials are essential in custom notebook printing as they directly impact durability, user experience, and overall satisfaction. By prioritizing materials such as high-quality paper, sturdy cover materials, appropriate binding methods, and eco-friendly options, you can create custom notebooks that not only meet but exceed expectations. With a focus on quality materials, custom notebook printing can result in products that are not only visually appealing but also built to withstand the test of time, making them cherished companions for users in various aspects of their personal and professional lives.

#notebookprinting #notebookprintingonline

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a-shared-experience · 3 months

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Sometimes it feels like no one is asking the right questions when debating the highly controversial topic of substance use. Everyone wants a cure for this thing called addiction and for my entire life it feels like we’ve made such little progress. We still argue over whether it’s a disease or a disorder, whether it’s ok to radically love someone despite their use, if tough love is the answer or if incarceration should continue to prevail over drug policy reform, is it a human right or moral failure , harm reduction vs treatment, these kinds of things.

While we debate such broad concepts we seem to forget that our lack of collective understanding is supportive of on going suffering and vast amounts of preventable death.

I reflect on my own life which is made up of loving friends and family, a safe place to call home, financial stability, access to healthcare, a multitude of ways in which I self express my authenticity through the arts, advocacy and service to my community and world at large and a career which I am fiercely passionate about and deeply affected by. It is not uncommon for complete strangers to come up to me and commend me for the work I do. I save lives which is very clinical to me and if you want to know - it’s the conversations I’m willing to have in spaces which are completely vulnerable and uncomfortable as an act of unconditional love for mankind that I am most proud of.

All these debates we have so rarely include those uncomfortable conversations.

On paper , I think I’m doing life right. I’m living my life as intentionally as possible and showing up for myself in ways that I wasn’t even aware I was capable of doing.

I believe knowledge is power which is why I’ve incorporated many teachings into my return to self. It’s a matter of days before I can say to myself …‘it’s been three years of recovery. Don’t bother telling me how great that is or how proud I should be- the very weight of that expectation can reinforce the beliefs that I was somehow less worthy of being celebrated in my humanity.

I was commonly pushed away and harshly criticized as result of my suffering and so the opinions of the validity of measurement of my perceived success holds not value.

I think it would be kinder to celebrate the reduced suffering of one’s human experience and reassure them that they are loved on their best days just as much as their worst. Take pride in their ability to be vulnerable and self advocate while in personal crisis and empower that strength in them.

What is addiction? It is the inability to identity or meet one’s own needs.

My most recent substance use may be explored as example. I was growing mindful for quite some time that something was missing in my life.

I couldn’t place my finger on it but started to attune to my inner self . I think of this as the crying infant known as the inner child. I hate to watch her suffer , knowing she doesn’t deserve it and so I pick her up, hold her close, rock her gently , it’s all a process of using the skills I’ve obtained as an adult to coregulate the most sensitive parts of me.

The parts of me which feel neglected.

I feed her healthy food, we paint. We dance , I bring her water and tuck her in at night. I love you, I say to her.

At work some days the cold feels like a physical assault - the wind lashing out. My feet hurt walking around in winter boots, some days I can only feel arthritis, nerve pain and muscle tension. Chronic pain , much like our emotional well being or mental health is just a burden on the system… I don’t talk about it much. Some days I wince in agony everytime I take my backpack off to get something to help someone else. It felt like my collar bone and shoulder were out of alignment . I kept meaning to make an appointment but the office was always closed when I remembered to call and I always seemed to miss their call back. The cold seemed like something I couldn’t really have compassion for myself for. We had been witnessing severely infected frostbite and infected amputations , things you couldn’t even imagine because most people don’t even make eye contact with the houseless community. I remember in years prior I would feel a bit anxious about having to utilize the skills I’d learned in suicide prevention. It’s difficult to process how many times a week I have to incorporate this into my day. I will sit with someone in crisis for however long it takes , I truly will give to the depths of my emotional super powers to uplift another… the hard part is that it’s just advice and kindness to survive the day and no amount of advocacy seems to inspire meaningful change in the human experience. Our inner city is pushed away from love. So much of our society withholds connection and demands people to suffer further and overcome these perceived personal failures and achieve successful overcomes before being eligible of such things. As if kindness was too costly to spare. A child that is not shown love or affection at all will eventually grow into a psychopath or sociopath. Even in far less extreme ways the parents can severely impact the development of the child’s brain when they demonstrate emotions in confusing ways. Lack of eye contact for instance will teach a child that the world is a frightening place. We often can’t seem to grasp two concepts at once - we act afraid of the the houseless and therefore do not look at them and they seek desperately to connect and are taught by us that the world isn’t safe for them.

We can’t ever fathom things like every child matters and every adult matters. We have these wild expectations of what it means to be grown , expecting the person in crisis to know better and yet are completely unaware of how little we know about anything .

Most people work mindless jobs , they clock in and clock out and get self absorbed with the burden of how hard it’s become to manage paying for their safety and the distraction from the slavery. They project their frustrations for not knowing how to live better onto the weakest links because they are also oppressed and don’t have strength to advocate for change.

I can’t help but be overwhelmed with the awareness of self and the awareness of others.

These existential realizations are a whirlwind as I show up each day to give of myself what so many aren’t willing to do. I want to scream that it would all be much easier if we gave a little of ourselves instead of filing it away as someone else’s problem. I never figured out how to define the unmet need within me. I took time off , I was vulnerable of what was happening , I even made small changes like limiting social media content and all the other little tips and tricks sold to as self care. It’s always the responsibility of the self to heal which is wildly underrated for how ineffective it is. The day I relapsed I was visiting friends because I couldn’t soothe the inner child.

I couldn’t laugh at the same things they were laughing at , I couldn’t engage in the small talk and I could tell I was an emotional burden.

I felt ashamed to suffer because I know people still think it’s a choice. It wasn’t until I was 4 lines in that my heavy cloud of doom evaporated from my soul and I could be present with them. Finally it was ok for me to be there. I could laugh, I could banter , I could make them laugh. Everything was ok. Then the next day and the next day were ok too. Then it wasn’t. I stopped gaining energy , I wasn’t flooded with positive emotions and things weren’t euphoric. It started to rain and the clouds came back.

It’s only one perception to consider that I had lost control to the incredible grip of the drug and a much harder concept to understand that the lack of welcoming spaces , the societal failure to acknowledge, accept, and have even the slightest clue how to sit with others in emotional discomfort had really been the driving factor.

This isn’t my fault or theirs- it’s systemic.

The attempts to fix the individual which is under constant conflict of opposing views is really disheartening because we don’t seem very close to understanding we must fix who we are when we come together.

The reality is that burn out is both accepted as a reasonable response to difficult work and also ingrained within us that the individual is not a good worker.

Only one of these statements is true while the other manifests as true by way of negative self belief .

We are constantly sold these negative self beliefs , I saw an ad for a video suggesting that if you want to be successful that you should only hang out with successful people which seemed nothing more than superficial word vomit to me.

How can you know any sort of truth about humanity if you aren’t willing to associate it with in its every divine form. Can we even know true happiness if we don’t know suffering ? I think our refusal to face it has caused a sort of poison to wash over our communities. It wouldn’t matter how many times I tried to scream out this truth people would reject it and call me too sensitive. I think my sensitivity is more powerful than anything yet discovered .

I’m the girl who counselled a bunch of men in a train station after a security guard showed me the snow bank covered in blood and told me two young men were killed the night before. Inside the same station I counselled a young man who had just completed 15 months in a treatment centre . He had nodded off on fentanyl on a bench and had his wallet sitting out. “ sorry to wake you man, you’re gonna get robbed , you can’t just leave your stuff around like that. We’re on the north side bro”

He is relieved that I have secured this for him and breaks down over his perceived failure called relapse . He is a young father pushed away from love , sleeping on a bench . As we talk my shift partner is counselling two young indigenous men whose friend died in shelter the other night. Apparently staff had forgotten to do room checks that night and it was too late when they found him. I recognized the name of the deceased from my email inbox.

At the next station I am chatting with the boy with the anchor tattoo. A member of my soul tribe. He is excited to share that with my love and support over the course of a year he has substantially reduced his dependence on opioids and is currently on safe supply. It’s not that I’m proud of him for making that choice, I’m just happy that he’s alive. He tells me that he’s been put on a new antidepressant, he’s really struggling with the overwhelm emotions. He can’t stop crying. I am proud of him for being so comfortable in this space to share something so personal with me. Our first interaction was me working to revive him from death , he told me to go fuck myself when he finally came back. We’ve come along way. A peace officer interrupts us and I am ready to access super human protection strength to make sure he doesn’t harass my client. Surprisingly I remember he’s the one guy who doesn’t fit into my all cops are bastards grouping. He is in fact , trying to help. While some say, all cops are bastards because of the witnessing of injustice and the inability to protect us from it, ultimately we will need a bunch of good guys to infiltrate that violent, corrupt history we know as criminality. He asked if I had a pair of socks for a different community members . It’s -30 with the windchill and the man is walking around bare feet. “ I don’t have any but I’ll find some. Thank you for advocating”

I go to text our mall team to try and get socks when the boy with the anchor tattoo reaches into his fabric shopping bag and pulls out a pair he got from another crisis team. His bag was stolen when he slept in the streets last night so he had accessed services before seeing me.

I am so moved by this act of kindness because people who have everything can’t seem to access this purity within them. My friend has nothing. He’s months into treatment for severe addiction, has learned the power of what it means to be a man that can admit he’s floored by his own emotions after being taught emotions are weakness , and still has the ability to have compassion and take action to help out those in need. He hugs me and I am make my way to the next person.

People often say things like, I don’t know how you do that kind of work, and I think… I don’t know how to keep showing up in spaces that are defined by popularity and possessions after knowing how it feels to be completely real with another person. How that realness creates a two way connection that is strong enough to hold space for the hard stuff . It supportive of all versions of ourselves and yet inspires the best versions and feeds the heart and soul in ways which make me forget the world is starving.

After work a guy picks me up to take me for coffee . I’m tired but I know it’s important to put myself out there . Frankly I’m too allergic to cats to be that version of society’s single ladies so I get in the truck and off we go. On the drive I catch a glimpse of a body on the ground and shyly ask if we can stop. I apologize because I know people hate this about me- it’s a burden. He tells me he doesn’t mind and we turn down the next street to circle back. I tell myself it’s likely not serious and I’m overreacting because so many people just walked passed the guy on the ground. Surely they’d stop .

As we pull into the parking lot there a lady hyperventilating in panic as she does cpr. She’s extremely stressed.

“ my name is Brett I can help you. Did anyone give narcan?”

“ no , we don’t have any “ she screams in fear.

“ I am with you, I can take over cpr after I give him some ok”

I load the first shot and inject into the man’s thigh. He’s dead.

“ everything is ok, I can hear the ambulance”

I am blown away when she breaths air into his mouth , I’m not certain I would do that without a barrier or oxygen bag. She doesn’t know him. She was going to the store and everyone walked passed the guy so she did a wellness check and called 911. She’s never done this before.

“ is the chest rising” she says in a panic that just barely hides her cries.”

“ ems is here ok”

The paramedic looks at me and asks what’s going on. He doesn’t seem phased that I’m

Completely out of my environment but he recognizes me and sees the pulse ox and oxygen . “ I was just driving by and pulled over , I gave one shot , I don’t think.. umm .. “

I don’t say it , the girl who responded is so shaken up. I touch her arm with my hand and tell her she did an amazing job and try to calm her all while taking in the work of the medics.

As someone who’s been on the scene of countless emergencies , this is the first time they haven’t hooked up oxygen or ekg. He was dead on arrival.

I get back in the truck and continue on to have coffee and I’m thankful that I’m not alone following that experience. The ability to sit with someone following a traumatic experience greatly reduces the chance of them developing post traumatic stress disorder . Obviously I’m too far gone for that but it drives home how important human connection is when faced with adverse emotional response that has the ability to completely rewire our brains and wreak havoc on our physical body. Our emotions cannot be defined as weak when they have the ability to manifest as disease and disorders within and lead to untimely desth.

I guess I just want to find a way to show how it’s not irrational to use substances in ways which get labeled as addiction when the human experience includes adverse experiences like these. This all happened to me in a single day. I am not ashamed to be emotionally affected by this. Nor will I be shamed for the ways in which I try to cope when there’s barely anywhere to turn. We need to rebel against this idea that to feel things equates to weakness because the ability to feel such complex things together is the antidote to our suffering. It is the quick answer when asked , how do we solve addiction?

Of all the perceivably tough men who walked past that body , I can only find admiration and respect for the small woman who was walking alone and dared to check on his well being.

How do we begin to teach people how to have a human experience and get comfortable with emotions ?

#anti establishment #fuck self care #compassion #humanity #addiction #burn out #opioids #drug crisis #human suffering

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whatiscalligraphy · 3 months

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Personalized Calligraphy Journals: Unique & Artistic

Enhance your writing experience with personalized calligraphy journals. These unique and artistic journals are tailored specifically for you, allowing you to add a personal touch to every page.With a wide selection of journal options, acid-free paper, and various calligraphy ink choices, you can create a journal that is truly one-of-a-kind. From custom cover designs to calligraphy stencils and inspirational quotes, there are endless possibilities to make your journal a work of art.Explore different binding methods, calligraphy fonts, and watercolor paints to decorate your journal pages. Whether you're new to calligraphy or an experienced artist, personalized calligraphy journals offer a creative outlet for self-expression and reflection.Key Takeaways: - Personalized calligraphy journals allow you to add a personal touch to every page. - Choose a journal with acid-free paper to ensure the longevity of your calligraphy. - Explore different calligraphy ink options to achieve the desired effect. - Create custom cover designs to showcase your artistic skills. - Experiment with different binding methods to enhance your calligraphy journal.

Journal Selection for Calligraphy

When it comes to calligraphy, choosing the right journal is essential to ensure a smooth and enjoyable writing experience. Here are some factors to consider when selecting a journal for your calligraphy journey:Paper Quality:The quality of the paper plays a crucial role in calligraphy. Look for journals with acid-free paper, as this prevents ink bleed-through and ensures that your calligraphy lasts for years to come. Smooth, high-quality paper provides a great surface for smooth pen strokes and ink flow. Consider the weight of the paper as well, as heavier paper can handle more ink without feathering or warping.Size and Portability:Think about how and where you will be using your calligraphy journal. If you plan on carrying it around with you, opt for a smaller, more portable size that fits comfortably in your bag or pocket. On the other hand, if you prefer a larger canvas for your calligraphy creations or enjoy spacious layouts, go for a larger-sized journal that allows you to fully express your artistic ideas.Binding:The binding of your journal can greatly affect your writing experience. Look for journals with durable bindings that allow the pages to lay flat when open. This ensures that you can write or draw without any obstructions and prevents the pages from accidentally closing on you. Whether you prefer journals with spiral bindings, stitched bindings, or other types, choose a binding that best suits your personal preference and the way you like to work.Table: Journal Features Pros Cons Acid-Free Paper Prevents ink bleed-through, ensures longevity Slightly more expensive Smaller Size More portable Less space for creativity Larger Size More space for creativity Less portable Durable Binding Allows pages to lay flat, easy writing Slightly bulkier Remember, the journal you choose should align with your personal style and preferences. Experiment with different options to find the perfect journal that inspires and enhances your calligraphy practice.Next, let's explore the various calligraphy ink options available for your personalized calligraphy journal.

Calligraphy Ink Options

When it comes to calligraphy, the ink you choose can greatly impact the quality and overall aesthetic of your writing. There are several calligraphy ink options available, each with its own unique characteristics and advantages. Here are some popular choices: - India Ink: India ink is a traditional choice for calligraphy, known for its rich and intense color. It has a smooth flow, making it ideal for creating intricate lettering. - Sumi Ink: Sumi ink is another traditional ink used in calligraphy, particularly in East Asian styles. It is also rich in color and has a smooth flow, making it easy to achieve precise and elegant strokes. - Waterproof Ink: Waterproof inks are specially formulated to resist smudging or running when exposed to water. They are ideal for calligraphy projects that involve watercolor washes or other wet techniques. - Metallic Ink: Metallic inks add a touch of glamour and sophistication to your calligraphy. They come in various metallic shades and can create stunning effects when used for decorative accents or special occasions. When selecting calligraphy ink for your personalized journal, consider the desired effect you want to achieve and the compatibility with your preferred calligraphy tools. Experiment with different inks to find the one that best suits your style and enhances your writing.Comparison of Calligraphy Inks Ink Type Characteristics Suitable for India Ink Rich color, smooth flow Intricate lettering Sumi Ink Rich color, smooth flow East Asian styles, precise strokes Waterproof Ink Resists smudging and running Watercolor washes, wet techniques Metallic Ink Elegant and glamorous Decorative accents, special occasions Each type of calligraphy ink offers unique qualities that can enhance your writing and artwork. Consider experimenting with different inks to explore their individual characteristics and find the perfect ink for your calligraphy journal.

Custom Cover Design Techniques

Designing a custom cover for your calligraphy journal is an opportunity to showcase your artistic skills and create a unique and personalized journal. There are various techniques you can use to bring your cover to life: - Embossing: Add texture and dimension to your cover by using embossing powders that create a raised effect when heat-activated. Experiment with different designs and patterns to make your cover stand out. - Stamping: Use decorative stamps to add intricate designs or patterns to your cover. Combine different stamps and ink colors to create a visually appealing and personalized cover. - Hand-painted designs: Let your creativity flow by hand-painting unique designs on your cover. Whether it's floral motifs, abstract patterns, or landscapes, hand-painted covers add a personal touch and artistic flair. - Calligraphy stencils: Incorporate calligraphy stencils to add elegant lettering or borders to your cover. Choose from a variety of stencil designs and fonts to create a cover that reflects your calligraphy style. The key is to experiment with different materials, techniques, and styles to create a custom cover that captures your personality and sets the tone for your journaling experience.Table: Custom Cover Design Techniques Technique Description Embossing Adds texture and dimension with heat-activated powders Stamping Uses decorative stamps to create intricate designs Hand-painted designs Expresses creativity through unique hand-painted artwork Calligraphy stencils Incorporates elegant lettering or borders with stencils With these custom cover design techniques, you can transform your calligraphy journal into a work of art that reflects your personal style and artistic abilities.

Binding Methods for Handmade Journals

When it comes to creating a handmade journal for your calligraphy endeavors, the binding method you choose can greatly enhance the overall look and feel of your journal. There are several binding techniques that you can explore to make your journal truly unique and visually appealing.Spiral Binding:Spiral binding is a popular choice for handmade journals as it allows for easy page turning and lays flat when opened. This makes it convenient for both writing and practicing calligraphy. Spiral binding also offers the flexibility to add or remove pages as needed, making it a versatile option for customization.Japanese Stab Binding:Japanese stab binding is a traditional binding method that creates a beautiful exposed spine. This technique involves sewing the pages together using decorative thread in a patterned design. Japanese stab binding not only adds a touch of elegance to your journal but also ensures durability and longevity.Perfect Binding:If you prefer a more professional and streamlined look, perfect binding is a great option. This method involves gluing the pages together at the spine and then attaching a cover. Perfect binding provides a clean finish and allows for easy stacking and storing of your handmade journal.Coptic Stitch Binding:Coptic stitch binding is a visually striking technique that showcases the threadwork on the spine of the journal. This method involves sewing the pages together using a visible stitch pattern that adds a decorative element. Coptic stitch binding allows the journal to lay flat when opened, allowing for seamless calligraphy writing or sketching.By exploring different binding methods for your handmade journal, you can create a journal that not only reflects your personal style but also enhances your calligraphy experience. Whether you prefer a more traditional or modern look, there is a binding method out there that will suit your needs and enable you to create a truly unique and personalized calligraphy journal.

Calligraphy Font Choices for Journals

Choosing the right calligraphy font for your journal can greatly enhance its overall aesthetic and appeal. The font you choose will set the tone for your journaling experience and reflect your personal style. Whether you prefer a traditional, elegant look or a more modern and playful feel, there are a wide variety of calligraphy fonts to choose from.Traditional Copperplate: This classic calligraphy font is characterized by its delicate, swirling strokes and elegant letterforms. It exudes a timeless and sophisticated charm, making it perfect for formal journaling or special occasions.Modern Brush Lettering: Brush lettering fonts are known for their loose and fluid style. They mimic the look of brushstrokes and offer a more contemporary and relaxed feel. These fonts are versatile and can add a touch of whimsy and creativity to your journal pages.“The choice of calligraphy font can greatly impact the overall aesthetic of your personalized journal.”Whimsical Lettering: If you're looking for a more playful and casual vibe, whimsical lettering fonts are a great choice. These fonts often have exaggerated curves and loops, adding a sense of fun and creativity to your journaling experience.Remember to experiment with different nib sizes, brush pens, or markers to achieve the desired thickness and variation of your chosen calligraphy font. The font you select should reflect your personal style and complement the content of your journal, adding an extra layer of beauty and self-expression to your writing.Calligraphy Font Comparison Table Font Style Description Traditional Copperplate Delicate, swirling strokes, elegant letterforms Modern Brush Lettering Loose, fluid style, mimics brushstrokes Whimsical Lettering Playful, casual vibe, exaggerated curves and loops

Watercolor Paints for Journal Decoration

Watercolor paints are a versatile and vibrant medium that can add depth and visual interest to your calligraphy journal. By incorporating watercolor techniques into your journal decoration, you can create stunning backgrounds, borders, and illustrations that enhance your calligraphy and make each page a work of art. Whether you prefer soft, subtle washes or bold, vibrant hues, watercolor paints offer endless possibilities for creativity.When using watercolor paints for journal decoration, consider the transparency and opacity of the colors to achieve the desired effect. Transparent watercolors are great for layering and blending, allowing you to create beautiful gradient transitions and subtle variations in color. On the other hand, opaque watercolors can provide more coverage and intensity, ideal for creating bold and impactful designs.Experiment with different watercolor techniques to achieve unique textures and effects in your calligraphy journal. The wet-on-wet technique involves applying wet paint onto a wet surface, creating soft and fluid colors that blend beautifully together. The wet-on-dry technique involves applying wet paint onto a dry surface, resulting in sharper edges and more controlled brushstrokes. Layering different colors and waiting for each layer to dry before adding the next can create stunning depth and complexity in your watercolor journal decorations.Remember to choose watercolor paints that are suitable for journaling. Look for high-quality paints that are lightfast and won't fade over time, ensuring the longevity of your journal decorations. You can find a wide range of watercolor paints available in tubes, pans, or liquid form, each with its own unique characteristics. Explore different brands and color palettes to find the perfect watercolor paints that suit your style and bring your calligraphy journal to life.

Personalized Journal Page Layouts

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wY-4OjBCZrQDesigning personalized page layouts in your calligraphy journal can elevate your journaling experience and make it more enjoyable and organized. By considering different elements and techniques, you can create visually appealing pages that reflect your personal style and enhance your writing experience.One important aspect of personalized journal page layouts is the use of headers, dividers, and bullet points. Headers can give structure to your journal entries and make it easier to navigate and find specific content. Dividers can be used to separate different sections or topics, helping to organize your thoughts and reflections. Bullet points are useful for creating lists, outlining ideas, or highlighting important details.Spacing and alignment techniques also play a role in creating visually pleasing journal page layouts. Experiment with different spacing options to find a balance between readability and aesthetics. Aligning your text and elements in a consistent and deliberate manner can add a sense of cohesion and polish to your journal pages.Additionally, consider customizing the number of lines or grids on each page to suit your writing style and preferences. Some individuals may prefer more lines for detailed writing, while others may prefer larger spaces for more illustrative or visual entries. Adapting the structure of your journal pages to your specific needs can make the writing process more enjoyable and help you express yourself more effectively.

Embellishments for Journal Covers

Adding the right embellishments to your calligraphy journal cover can take it to the next level and make it truly unique. Whether you want to add a touch of elegance, a splash of color, or a textured element, there are various embellishments you can explore. Let's dive into some popular options that will elevate your journal cover design.Embossing PowdersEmbossing powders are a fantastic way to create a raised, textured effect on your journal cover. Simply apply embossing ink to your desired design, sprinkle embossing powder over it, and use a heat tool to melt the powder, resulting in a beautiful raised design. Choose from a wide range of colors to match your journal's theme or style.Decorative Tapes and RibbonsDecorative tapes and ribbons can add a pop of color and visual interest to your journal cover. They can be used to create borders, frame designs, or add a finishing touch to your cover. Choose tapes and ribbons that complement your calligraphy and enhance the overall aesthetic of your journal.Wax SealsWax seals bring a touch of elegance and sophistication to your journal cover. They can be customized with your initials, a meaningful symbol, or a design that represents your personality. Use sealing wax and a wax stamp to create a timeless and personalized embellishment for your journal.Remember, the key to using embellishments effectively is to strike a balance between creativity and functionality. Choose embellishments that not only enhance the visual appeal of your journal cover but also reflect your personal style and complement the content inside. Let your creativity shine and create a journal cover that truly represents you.

Conclusion

Personalized calligraphy journals provide a unique and artistic way to enhance your writing experience. By tailoring your journal specifically to your preferences, you can add a personal touch to every page and create a truly one-of-a-kind masterpiece. From selecting the perfect journal and calligraphy ink to designing custom covers and experimenting with different binding methods, there are endless possibilities for creativity and self-expression.Whether you're a calligraphy beginner or an experienced artist, a personalized calligraphy journal is a fantastic outlet for reflection and inspiration. The numerous options available allow you to explore different calligraphy fonts, watercolor paints, and embellishments to make your journal truly reflect your personal style. By customizing page layouts and incorporating meaningful quotes, you can create a writing experience that is both organized and visually appealing.So, why wait? Start your personalized calligraphy journal journey today and unlock your creativity on every page. Whether it's a daily diary, a travel journal, or a recipe book, a personalized calligraphy journal is a beautiful and meaningful way to capture your thoughts and memories. Let your imagination run wild and create a journal that is as unique as you are!

FAQ

What makes personalized calligraphy journals unique?Personalized calligraphy journals are tailored specifically for you, allowing you to add a personal touch to every page. From custom cover designs to calligraphy stencils and inspirational quotes, there are endless possibilities to make your journal a work of art.What factors should I consider when choosing a journal for calligraphy?When choosing a journal for calligraphy, it's important to consider factors such as paper quality, size, and binding. Read the full article

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alanzapata · 9 months

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Movement

Movement.

The rustling of leaves, across your cheeks and under your feet.

The rubbery soft mud, prone to slide and give way in an avalanche of dank.

Whirring feet in football boots – recently bought by someone for him, now his pride and joy – spinning up the bank fearlessly.

Never stopping, never pausing,

not even to listen to the residual echo of rain that hung between the canopy, the vague chatter of closely aligned trees, a commuter train in a permanent rush hour hubbub.

He was but movement ahead of me, moving through the undergrowth, at one with the trees, vines and foliage,

swimming seamlessly like a fish, never threatened, never shaken, never disturbed.

My cotton shirt clung to me, the sweat moving backwards or hanging confidently in the air, desperate not to lose him.

Olguer had waited for me –

how he had waited for me,

as I tapped away, desperately trying to build a ladder high enough for me to send word back to mine, what I knew, what I could do, what I had. He patiently and stoically played with a nylon fishing wire at the jetty. Maybe a fish (a bagre or a tanga), probably nothing. Perhaps a glimpse of his Dad, something of a hybrid now, with proper boots and a work uniform, carrying an outboard motor clasped to his chest, one hand free in the posture of a real man of the jungle,

his fringe still flat across his eyebrows and his matted hair tied across his shoulderblades.

If he saw him, it would be a series of staccato, surly, nonplussed greetings, and a tub of manioc beer chicha to take home. If the conversation was punctuation without text, then the tub was the full stop. Too embarrassing to continue after that show of affection, too vulnerable. As for Olguer himself, he then had to hide his childish grin, but that’s how he’s reminded that he is his Dad.

Olguer had waited for me, while I injected sweet, sweet bandwidth in my neurotransmitters, all wires and beeps and slowly rolling data, a return to the stresses and cackles and white noise, ET phoning home.

He didn’t really get it, but he was polite and respectful enough to wait while I caught a glimpse of what I’d left behind, somewhere where I meant something, where the codes made sense to me, where the way I carried my shoulders and moved the edges of my lips had some meaning

where I could generate energy by the tapping of fingers on letters and make sense of interminable scrolls of data and pictures, my eyes gleaning and rolling and frowning and reflecting white light.

When it ended, I was back in his meaning, his planet, his system, his light.

After a while, the banks grow steeper and the earth, ever so slightly drier, starts to crumble away. A nice bar of hash that you could soften and mould in your fingers, and then sprinkle into the paper like decorations on a cupcake. My trainers gasped and stumbled, excavating quarries of dirt.

He would kick into the mound with his icepick of a boot, making rivets for me to manoeuvre up and down. Bit by bit I wrenched myself up, carrying the dead weight of my spare body, a wasted tub of lard strapped across my chest and hanging over my belt, a veritable Fitzcarraldo of wheezing grease,

lugging a rucksack with computer, sun cream, mosquito repellent, spare sunglasses, a hat, drinking water.

I kept the glint of his boots in my eyeline, concentrating on them and making sure they didn’t disappear in the darkening green.

Failing that, the whish whosh of disturbed flora, ever so faint under his ballerina’s gait, and mostly drowned out by the heaving thump of my clumsy, tired frame.

At one point, a plateau, and I can focus in on his white shirt as it glides through the bush for fully 10 seconds, and then down in two steps (I take five), and up in momentum + three (I pause at the bottom and then haul myself up, again in five).

On the next one, he stops and holds out a hand to lever me up and then turns on his heels, audaciously in the sodden earth, skipping like a spinning stone on water,

and leaps over a gorge.

*********

I brake suddenly and look down, all thrust lost, with my heels now dug into the dirt, hovering over the edge.

A five metre drop to a newly inaugurated stream, a positively joyful gurgle, teeming with life and hope, amused by my reticence and

bemused by my appearance.

I swayed near and far and looked over. He was waiting for me on the other side.

“Ven, teacher,”

“No puedo.” “Ven, no más”

“Es que…” “Ven rápido, que se nos va a quedar noche”

“…me da miedo” In that moment, I remembered it all. Time didn’t so much stop as flatten out,

The heaving momentum of ever-constant movement through the jungle, progressing forward, the mental global positioning system that would eventually bring us into a village, impossible as though it seemed to be imagined at this moment…

That had all gone.

The stream’s chuckles started to piss me off. I could feel its ice cold rush against me as it broke my fall, the few seconds of cold before the wet, and then the pain.

Strong as he was, how would he get me back up? How would he get me home?

“No puedo, Olguer.” He was still and patient as a monk. His face unreadable, emotionless. His contempt hidden behind ancient codes of respect and the shame of showing feeling.

“Ven, teacher”

I remembered everything.

He had just leapt over the gorge, not looking or drowning, just a full extension of left and right legs cutting through the air like scissors, every doubt and mental ache and tangle extended, nearly vertical.

He just leapt. No fear if you don’t look at it.

And he had almost definitely never seen Looney Tunes.

I span backwards, and forwards, my memories every bit as rotational as my feet, my memory a spinning top on which I perched, a spinning top atop the rim of a fold (every bit as unstable as that sounds),

just one small, well-trained, semi-automated, disabled transhuman, who had been dropped from a plane on this wilderness, this strange planet, a transhuman who now needs a charging dock.

Time had folded.

Time had folded and my memories had compressed in on each other.

“Tira no más, teacher. No pasa nada”

Back I went to Thorpe Park, Jonny’s birthday, in the snake of a queue for some atrocious rollercoaster from the depths of hell. You’ll be fine Jake, I’ve been here before. Just relax and enjoy it. I’ll go in the same compartment as you. And there’s a safety bar anyway.

You’ll be fine. Move forward. You fucking coward. Move forward, we’ll get on the next one.

Jonny laughing along as we mocked Jake for his childish nerves. Only a fucking rollercoaster, for fuck’s sake, as children and teens alike boarded and we edged closer to the launchpad.

I know you haven’t done it before, but it’s fun mate. Seriously Jonny, get a load of this guy.

…and then one step forward too many and I’m on the pad and every bad trip breaks out in my head.

Every time I smoked too much

and the wine was too cheap and I could feel it moving through my veins and my thorax can taste it and I regretted ever being alive

and I’m scared fucking scared

and why did I take these mushrooms and I can hear someone tutting and adjusting their wraparound skirt behind me at Wivenhoe fucking Mayfair, back when you could buy shrooms, in a shop called Igigis, and and I’m spinning and and still spinning and and and…I’m alone.

I can’t do this Jake, I’m sorry.

Fortunately June was desperately looking for someone to watch her down half a bottle of vodka at 10am, just for the nerves, and I spent the rest of the day drinking on the teacups.

I remembered,

not just the past, when I took a wrong turn on Roraima, also deceived by a newly opened stream that sent me (this time, it was cackling) down to the edge of a precipice, but also the edge of the future.

All my life compressed, folded.

Memories that go forwards, as well as backwards.

Not just the past, but I remembered the future, things that hadn’t happened yet…

as odd it sounds now.

I remembered five years later, when my vertigo had a name (something called multiple sclerosis) and my body dived ahead of me,

into a rowing boat, in admittedly far more parochial surroundings (Oxford), my legs crumpling, unable to take my weight, and my nerves, clogged and disrupted, refused to extend my arms, and I hit my chin on the bow and my little finger on the rivet,

fracturing the proximal phalanx,

and I spent 5 weeks with the world spinning around me on public transport since I couldn’t cycle and bus stops seemed like broken escalators

when you step on them anticipating movement, but there is none and your body convulses confusedly. Ironic that you struggle when everything moves apart from you, only to struggle even more when nothing moves and you can’t stand still.

I remembered quivering on the rush of filthy London air that accompanies a train on a platform, quivering enough to unsettle fellow passengers who had seen my walking stick and wondered if it might be today that they saw someone leap. They knew it happened. They’d read about it.

****************

“Vamos teacher!”

Don’t look down. Don’t look at the monster. You’re a salmon, leaping up a waterfall. Salmons can’t remember the future, and neither can you.

I knew every breath and I knew where it came from and where it went. I could anticipate every breath. The breath goes in, and you push it out into the other side. I could close my eyes and imagine the other side, the hard thud of my body as it carved out a crater in the terracotta.

On the other side.

****************

Memory and consciousness, the enemy of movement.

The page can fold.

Your memories can fold.

You can fold the gap, allowing the trickle at the bottom of the gorge to fall onto the crease at the bottom.

It will soak the paper and eventually tear it in the pathetic way that paper tears and disintegrates in wet.

Not the paper, you’re not paper, you’re a transhuman who needs to recharge.

On the other side.

Time turned sideways and flattened out.

Or rather, folded. A piece of paper where the two edges move in on each other, until they touch, the middle of the page buckling and groaning and creasing as it arcs downwards…

until it hits rock bottom and stares flatly up.

Feel the breath, the matted-damp air, more moss than air, as you suck it from the side of the gorge and into your lungs, curling up tight inside you, compressing and pressurising inside your just-about-human shape, only for you to swing the pendulum, and force it out, a violent expulsion of energy, steam pistons, as the air explodes in a million directions…

Do like the air, so brave it is, as it propels itself towards a new world, a new life, infinitesimal collisions with other air competitors, swimming upstream towards hope, dreams and ambition…

“Tira teacher”

The legs bent, the heels arched, and the body spread itself.

Only one time will this happen…

#writing #writeblr #autofiction #chronic illness #multiple sclerosis

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xtruss · 1 year

Text

Humanity’s Groundwater Pumping Has Altered Earth’s Tilt! Massive Shifts of Water Have Caused Earth’s Poles to Wander

— 16 June 2023 | By Warren Cornwall | Science.Org

Earth’s spin axis has shifted in recent years because of groundwater extraction, which redistributes the weight of the planet’s water. Alexsava/iStock

While spinning on its axis, Earth wobbles like an off-kilter top. Sloshing molten iron in Earth’s core, melting ice, ocean currents, and even hurricanes can all cause the poles to wander. Now, scientists have found that a significant amount of the polar drift results from human activity: pumping groundwater for drinking and irrigation.

“The very way the planet wobbles is impacted by our activities,” says Surendra Adhikari, a geophysicist at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory and an expert on Earth’s rotation who was not involved in the study. “It is, in a way, mind boggling.”

Imagine spinning a basketball on your finger. If you can keep the ball balanced, it will spin evenly along its axis. But add a little bit of weight to one part of the ball or remove it from another, and the ball will rapidly become unbalanced, wobbling and shifting its spin axis. Earth’s spin axis also wobbles, its North Pole tracing out a roughly 10-meter-wide circle every year or so. The center of this wobble also drifts over the long term; lately, it has been tilting in the direction of Iceland by about 9 centimeters per year.

Clark R. Wilson, a geophysicist at the University of Texas at Austin, and his colleagues thought the removal of tens of gigatons of groundwater each year might affect the drift. But they knew it could not be the only factor. “There’s a lot of pieces that go into the final budget for causing polar drift,” Wilson says.

The scientists built a model of the polar wander, accounting for factors such as reservoirs filling because of new dams and ice sheets melting, to see how well they explained the polar movements observed between 1993 and 2010. During that time, satellite measurements were precise enough to detect a shift in the poles as small as a few millimeters.

Dams and ice changes were not enough to match the observed polar motion. But when the researchers also put in 2150 gigatons of groundwater that hydrologic models estimate were pumped between 1993 and 2010, the predicted polar motion aligned much more closely with observations. Wilson and his colleagues conclude that the redistribution of that water weight to the world’s oceans has caused Earth’s poles to shift nearly 80 centimeters during that time. In fact, groundwater removal appears to have played a bigger role in that period than the release of meltwater from ice in either Greenland or Antarctica, the scientists reported Thursday in Geophysical Research Letters.

The effect was amplified because much of the water was removed in the northern midlatitudes, in groundwater depletion hot spots such as northwestern India and the western United States. If the biggest loss of water had occurred closer to the equator or the poles, the effect would have been smaller, Wilson says.

The extra wobble is far too small to affect weather or seasons, Wilson says. But the findings could enable scientists to use polar drift as a tool to gauge other phenomena. Ki-Weon Seo, a geophysicist at Seoul National University and the study’s lead author, says it offers a way to check how much sea level rise the groundwater pumping is causing, as the water flows downstream and ultimately reaches the ocean.

The new paper helps confirm that groundwater depletion added approximately 6 millimeters to global sea level rise between 1993 and 2010. “I was very happy” that this new method matched other estimates, Seo says. Because detailed astronomical measurements of the polar axis location go back to the end of the 19th century, polar drift could enable Seo to trace the human impact on the planet’s water over the past century.

#Science #Journals #Commentary #Energy #Environment

0 notes

idealdesignbrochuresblog · 2 years

Text

How to Print Booklets

For a more personalized, professional look, consider custom booklets for your next promotional campaign. They are convenient and compact, making them a good choice for many types of promotional materials. A saddle-stitched booklet typically features two front and two back pages, with a choice of either glossy or matte covers. Custom booklets can also be printed in full color, and metal staples are available to ensure durability. To customize your booklets, choose a style of binding, then enter the information you want on the front and back covers.

Once you've set up your printer to print booklets, choose a binding method. A stapled booklet is perfect for a professional look, and many printers have binding options to accommodate this type of job. Most printers will automatically align pages to fit the print area, so you can use the Booklet handling option to separate smaller groups. When you're printing a booklet, be sure to set up the page size accordingly, as this will affect how the pages look and how they print.

If you've created a PDF document and it's not formatted as a booklet, make sure to check the box labeled "Disable booklet layout" on the printer's Properties dialog box. This will give you the ability to adjust additional settings, including paper size, margins, and stapling. In addition, some printers can automatically fold and staple booklets, so you should check the instructions to see what they recommend.

A brochure can be a great way to showcase a product or service, and a booklet can be a highly visible marketing tool. A booklet can be filled with a variety of information, such as recipes, and showcases your services and products. It can also be used to illustrate current projects and goals for your business. Regardless of the purpose of a booklet, it is sure to get attention and build trust with your prospective customers.

Custom booklets can be produced in a wide variety of paper types and finishes. With a variety of paper weights and finishes, you can easily create the perfect booklet for your project. Additionally, you can also add a gloss, matte, or UV coating for added visual impact and durability. Choose between a high-gloss or matte finish, and you will be sure to get the highest quality booklets for your money. When it comes to printing, you can find affordable booklets from MIT Copytech.

When choosing between offset printing and digital printing, make sure to consider the binding option for your booklet. Many booklet printers offer wire-o, perfect binding, and saddle-stitch options. Regardless of the binding, you select, booklets can be an excellent advertising option. Depending on the size of your booklet, you can choose from a variety of page sizes. If you need a booklet for your next promotional campaign, contact a booklet printing service in NYC to learn more about your options.

The most common binding method for a booklet is saddle-stitching. It involves using two staples per page to bind the pages. This binding method is a good choice for booklets with eight to twelve pages. Unlike spiral binding, saddle-stitching booklets can have blank pages in the front or back, which is why they're popular with businesses and consumers alike. You'll also get high-quality booklets when you work with a reputable printer.

Get more enlightened about this article, by reading this post: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pamphlet.

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 2 years

Text

Eyes Wide Shut (Spencer Reid x Reader) Smut

Summary: An agreement between roommates leads to delightful surprises at all hours.

AN: This is an entry to the roommate’s challenge from @imagining-in-the-margins! Thanks for all the encouragement from my pals in her server.

Reader is afab and is called “doll” by Spencer. No pronouns are used.

Content warnings: Smut so 18+ only (MINORS DNI). Includes somnophilia (consensual), free use (consensual), cunnilingus, penetrative sex, mild praise kink.

My mind stirred. Though only felt like I’d nodded off seconds ago, I knew it must have been hours. It was a kiss on my neck, warm with eager breath, that brought me out of my slumber. My chin turned to find the owner of these affections but was halted by a sudden order from above me.

“Don’t open your eyes.”

It was a soft demand, almost begging for me to listen. As soon as I recognised the pressure on my chest, it flew away along with the voice, but the bed still dipped at the lower half of me so I could guess where he was waiting, waiting to see if I would hear him out at whatever time this was. His pleading seeped through completely like water on a paper towel as he spoke again.

“I need you, doll. Now,”

My eyelids cracked open into slits. The lights were still off, but I could just about see Spencer, with his hands planted either side of my waist and a reflection in his glasses of a lamppost that had reached through my mostly closed curtains. He hadn’t even taken off his work shirt yet, his tie tantalisingly stroking my bare belly. He’d already pulled the duvet pulled down to my knees; I’m surprised I didn’t wake up before now.

“Please,” He said, his voice almost cracking the dam holding back his desire, “Just let me use you, real quick. You don’t have to do anything.”

I closed my eyes again. A “hmm” at the back of my throat, and the nod, harmonised with a whine and the removal of Spencer from my body.

Shimmying my underwear down my legs occurred quicker and clumsier than his previous actions. No time was wasted before I felt him kiss me hard, like he wanted to leave an impression of his lips there forever. I would happily allow him the privilege. Each reprinting of his mouth around my clit was received with sleepy submission mixed in the tingles each of its eight thousand nerve endings sent through me.

With my head tilting back into the pillow, Spencer shushed me when I tried to speak. His tongue reinforced my silence. My thighs closed around his ears and lovingly cradled his head while he lapped up all I gave to him. Even in slumber I knew him and what he wanted. But awake, I could feel it completely and know myself that it was him giving me such pleasures. Not some random faceless person in a dream.

I felt his glasses knock against my pubic bone as my hips raised to meet his retreating mouth. Two clicks then a third later to my left, I could imagine him putting them on my bedside table. A ruffle of his shirt

The heavy dip on the bed returned, and my knees were cradled in a gentle grip to bend and stay planted while he aligned with me. His breathing became loudest when his head came to rest on my pillow, to my left side. I turned my head to the right and my mouth parted to sigh as he pushed into me. His delightful groan left him motionless on top of me and I delighted in his weight and warmth in the absence of my blankets.

My arms curled up and around to his back and I hummed again. His head lifted. A soporific smile grew on my face as Spencer kissed my left eyelid.

“Thank you.” Then he kissed the right one, “Thank you.”

And he began fucking into me. The first rock of his hips reminded me of how torn he was the first time we agreed to this. He had wanted to be slow so I could rest, but he had been desperate to feel more of me and faster. It seemed that he still struggled with how to use me.

Lingering in my growing orgasm was the temptation to open my eyes again with his newly bare body brushing against mine and the throes of sleep wrestling with my libido. All this punctuated with the metallic click of his belt, presumably stuck at his thighs in his haste. Impatient boy, but that was why I liked this so much. We didn’t have to wait anymore. We could do this whenever we wanted, needed. It was how we phrased it that had grown stale in my book. “Free use”. No, this man was loving me for all my worth. It almost made me want to reconsider the “no strings attached roommate” agreement we’d set out just weeks ago.

Spencer’s praise switched to encouragements as his brow turned against my cheek then back to the pillow, his hot words punctuating the air in my ear: “Just a little more, doll. That’s it.”

Rough padded fingertips rubbed my clit. A sigh threw open my eyelids to give a quick image of the tousled back of his head then they closed them again as I came, my walls and my arms tightening around him. Like a bird, I sang for him, and my applause was his orgasm that followed less than a minute after mine. My nose nuzzled into his shoulder and tickled under the tresses of his overgrown head of hair. Its distant lavender shampoo mingled in sweat so strongly I could taste it. I’d never tire of having that in my room, and if I could pop it into a candle I would. Thankfully, Spencer was in here so often that I didn’t have to worry about token reminders just yet.

Once we had savoured the moment enough, Spencer pulled out and away from me. As he replaced my underwear, his fingers dipped into them and circled my clit a few times, causing me to curl up in the direction of his hand with a whimper. The blankets returned and Spencer tucked himself in behind me.

My voice emerged, a little shakier and deeper than usual, “Uh, your bed’s down the hall.”

“What if I need you again?”

His cum spilled down my leg, and I thought about having to change the sheets tomorrow. Perhaps he’d take advantage of our agreement and therefore me as well, maybe over the washing machine while we waited for the cycle to finish.

An exciting idea, one that I probably wouldn’t remember once I’d fallen asleep and my groggy senses told me that time would be very soon. I still recalled how cosy it felt to have Spencer’s arm adjust itself around me as he snuggled his body into mine.

“Sleep well, doll.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer tag: @spenxerslut and @averyhotchner

#Spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #my writing #wc: >1k #r: gn #smut

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hongism · 4 years

Text

at the end of the day - p. seonghwa 18+

day 10 of kinktober: lovemaking - park seonghwa warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, soft sex, marking, creampie, fingering, tooth-rotting fluff, it’s so soft I can’t believe I wrote it, literally lovemaking, im broken after writing it wc: 1.6k genre: smut, fluff, pwp, 18+

“Hi,” you greet, tone quiet. Seonghwa steps over the threshold, and the door snaps shut without much noise. His shoulders remain slumped forward, clear evidence of his exhaustion, but he still manages a somewhat cheery greeting in response.

“Hi, baby, how was your day?” He comes closer to where you’re seated at the dining table. Papers are strewn across the wood, and Seonghwa doesn’t even need to take a glance to know that you’re still struggling with schoolwork.

“Long,” you answer even though he already understands just from your expression. Likewise, he nods in agreement, smile stretching a little less than before.

“Seems we both had tough days then.” Seonghwa leans forward and rests his hands on the back of your chair. The gaze he offers is as soft as ever. You sit up straight only to push your head back against his stomach. “I’ll take a quick shower, then we can go to bed, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you hum. Seonghwa steps away from your chair, and you watch him disappear into the bedroom with a small sigh. The mountain of work before you still looms, but it’s the last thing on your mind at the moment. Sleep would be nice, but cuddling with Seonghwa would be even better at this point. Thus, you push away from the table and amble to the bedroom.

You can hear the soft trickles of the shower in the bathroom, and maybe on a night where you both weren’t so tired, you might be daring enough to surprise Seonghwa in there. Rather, you merely slip your pants off, crawling under the sheets to nestle in the center of the bed while you wait for Seonghwa to join you.

It doesn’t take too long for him to come out, towel around his neck, and a pair of sweats hanging loosely at his hips. You both instinctually smile at one another as soon as you make eye contact, and you huff out a laugh through your nose.

“What’s that look for?” Seonghwa inquires, bringing the towel down and dropping it on your head once he’s closer to the edge of the bed.

“Nothing, nothing,” you counter. “You’re just cute.” The towel slips down to the mattress, slightly damp from the moisture on Seonghwa’s skin, and he bends over you to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“You’re the only cute one here, baby girl. Now scoot over and make some room for me.”

“At least put the towel up first,” you grumble, tossing it back at your boyfriend before shifting to the other side of the bed. Seonghwa feigns annoyance with a slight roll of his eyes but picks up the towel regardless. He carries it all the way back to the bathroom before returning to you, slipping into bed at last.

You greet him with a kiss; your lips press against the tip of his nose first, then two small pecks on either cheek before finally finding purchase on his plush and rosy lips. They’re soft on yours, the gentlest pressure that leaves a blossoming warmth in your chest. It isn’t needy or full of lust – merely a small signal of the love and affection you have for each other.

“I love you,” you murmur. The words linger in the air between you for a few moments, Seonghwa’s only response being the same affectionate and tired grin. Even when he does do something, it isn’t verbal. He closes the minimal distance between your lips once more. The kiss contains a bit more pressure this time, yet again it doesn’t hold any desperation. You don’t let your lips part for a second as Seonghwa tugs you closer, hand drawing around your waist, and he tugs you forward and forward until your chest is flush against his. It only takes a slight tug for him to pull you on top of him, rolling onto his back so that you can straddle his hips comfortably.

A sigh of content leaves you. It’s one that Seonghwa eats right up, and his tongue caresses your lower lips with the same amount of care and softness as every other touch he’s providing. He slips his hands lower, tracing each curve and dip of your body until he reaches your hips and dances over the bare skin there. It doesn’t take much for him to let those same fingers slide up under your shirt. They leave goosebumps in their wake, gliding and shifting until he has his thumbs looped around the band of your underwear, and it’s with an unspoken agreement that he tugs them down. You have to assist him in getting them fully off, straightening one leg after the other until the undergarments are pulled away completely. He doesn’t bother doing the same for his own – mostly because he’s not wearing underwear, but also because he just shimmies his sweatpants down enough to bare his cock to the cool air in the bedroom.

Seonghwa doesn’t move any faster than he is; he maintains the same sweet and languid pace even as he slips two fingers between your legs and presses them past your already sopping folds. You moan into his mouth at the sensation, shifting your hips so that he can have better access to your core. His tongue breaches your lips at the same moment he pushes his fingers into your tight hole, and you would moan if you weren’t midway through a gasp of surprise. You let him control the kiss, instead focusing on the feeling of his fingers inside you, but you can’t keep from reaching down to take his member in your hand. It’s his turn to groan as you move over his cock with sloppy jerks, collecting the precum gathered on his tip and guiding it over the rest of his length.

“I want you, Hwa,” you whisper after pulling back to look him in the eye. His smile returns, and he gives you a small nod before slipping his fingers out of you. His hand meets yours on his shaft, lips coming to rest on the corner of your lips. He rubs the juices of your arousal over his cock then pushes your hips back to align with your hole. When he sinks into your velvet walls, you can’t stop the whimper that falls from your lips. The stretch burns and aches deep inside you, and Seonghwa slows his movements until he barely moves at all. Folding your hands around the back of his neck, you dug yourself down to his lips and kiss him as deeply as possible. Seonghwa returns the kiss with equal passion and penetrates you until he’s buried all the way in your cunt.

“I love you,” he says, parting from your lips to speak the words. “Let me make love to you.”

“You always have permission to do that,” you reply. You release his neck to cup his cheek, and he presses his face against your palm without hesitation. “So go ahead and do it, my love.”

Seonghwa’s grip on your hips tightens, and in one swift movement, he swivels you until your back collides with the mattress. His mouth overtakes yours, tongue pushing in without hesitation, and you can only moan in response. He rocks his hips against yours. The groan that leaves his chest is nothing short of heavenly, and you’d beg just to hear that sound over and over again, but he provides it without you begging at all. Each thrust has you seeing stars; his cock rubs over your sweet spot without cease, and the pace he maintains is still as languid as before. It feels different this time, like he’s putting all his feelings into each thrust. Not chasing after his own pleasure or an orgasm – just undivided attention on you and making you feel good.

It doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself in the pleasure running through your veins. Seonghwa is right there with you, quiet moans escaping him as more time passes, but it’s evident that he’s holding out until you orgasm. His thrusts only stutter once your walls begin to tighten around him. The band holding you back from your orgasm snaps as he thrusts particularly deep, and you arch your back off the bed. White fills your vision, red hot pleasure searing your body from head to toe, and Seonghwa kisses you through it. The warmth only persists because he cums inside you a second later, painting the inside of your walls with white.

You don’t dare to move for several minutes after and just focus on Seonghwa’s weight against your body and the softly spoken praises he whispers into the shell of your ear. When he does move away from you, you throw your arms around his waist and squeeze him tight so that he can’t leave.

“Let’s just stay like this a while,” you murmur, the exhaustion clearly audible in your tone. “Please.” Seonghwa laughs lightly, then brings his lips back to your forehead.

“Okay, baby girl. Anything for you.”

...

a/n: not funny. i cried. this is too soft for me. expect hard shit to make up for it ;-;

link to kinktober masterlist

taglist: @noonawriter @daniblogs164 @felixity @okokokok123-45 @jeonartemis @crescent-hwa @wheresmymoniat @nlost21 @lonely10vely @atletino @monbecaratstayarmy @hello-its-ya-boi @onyxblade01 @kimnamshiks @poutychangbinnie @toothlessshiber @xxbluestrifexx @lokihoeforhyunjin @ice-cold-taeyong @essantial @blueish-sun @etaerealboy @notbeforelong @wideawakeficrecs @adestinyuwu @simpforhyunjin @naajix @lilyliline21 @leaz-kpop-life @hyunjinsicedamerican0 @marigold-bebee @changbinswifu @xcookiemonsteer @ddalgi-yong @seoha

unable to be tagged: @sailing-goddess-of-ateez @gingerale-addict

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shelby-love · 3 years

Text

MATT CASEY

Hatred and fatherly love.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author's note: I had a lot of fun with this one. I'm still thinking about whether or not I should just keep the ending as it is or make a part two where (as requested) they fall for each other. But if I'm being honest I kind of dig feisty Y/N that stands her ground.

PART // 2 //

MASTERLIST

"Justin what you did was wrong," You fumed, handing him the last of your boxes to load into the truck. He took them without saying a word, letting you take out your frustration on him. "I can't believe dad would do that."

"Oh come on," Your older brother groaned. "Now you're acting like Erin."

"Damn right I am," You agreed. "Unlike dad, Erin and I want you to learn from your mistakes. Obviously, that's not gonna happen if dad keeps babying you."

"So what?" His words came out immaturely, making you punch his shoulder. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an asshole! That little boy is paralysed from the waist down because of you!"

"You're overreacting."

"You know what, I give up." Your hands curled around the car doors before they released when you shut the door closed. Anger took permanent residence in your chest.

You shot your brother a glare before jumping into your car. "Thanks for helping me pack."

And with that you sped off to your new home.

***

The apartment complex you moved to was considered to be a jackpot. With that being said, if there was one thing that you liked about having Hank Voight as your father, it was the very comfortable lifestyle you could afford with just your name.

Of course, you were mad at your father right now. What he did to get your immature brother out of trouble was all kinds of wrong, and you didn't support it at all.

"Do you need help with that?" A cool voice told you in passing. You had your hands filled with boxes, and you could barely register what was in front of you.

Before you could say anything hands were already easing the weight in your arms. You smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck shyly.

"Thanks. I just moved here," You explained quickly before looking at the man who offered his help to you. He held the two boxes in his one hand, the other one free for you to take in a greet. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Matt Casey. You can call me Matt."

Inside, you were panicking. The firefighter who currently hated your father and brother with a passion was standing in front of you.

You smiled shakily before a voice called out. "Miss Voight. There are some papers you need to sign."

The way Matt's eyes narrowed at you looked sinister, almost as if he was ready to swallow you up in flames or maybe even leave you in a burning building to die if it ever came down to it.

You didn't know what to say, only mumbling apologies to him before scurrying over to sign some papers.

And when you came back to where Matt once stood, you found your two boxes down on the floor.

Great. My new neighbour hates my guts.

***

Over the next few days Matt and you had managed to establish a routine. You'd both see each other in the hallways very frequently but never actually greet each other. By Tuesday, you were already used to the icy glares and the feeling of being the most hated woman on earth.

You even managed to make a game out of it. What does he think I do for living, it was called. Your number one guess was that he thought you were a dirty cop. Like your father obviously.

But then again, you swore you could see his eyes linger on your legs in passing every time you wore a skirt or a dress. So yet again, another one of your guesses was that he thought you were a stripper.

As fun as it was to make games out of your non-existent relationship it hurt you to be treated in a way you didn't deserve.

The truth was - you worked as a nurse, specifically working with little children. Every day you saw their parents take down stars in order to make their little ones happy and as messed up as it sounded you saw yourself categorizing your own father with them. The only difference between them and your own father was the fact that your father did what he did to protect you in a way that some people didn't seem to find fit.

People like Matt for instance.

And while you understood both sides, you leaned toward Matt. What Justin did was awful and your mind was set in stone - he deserved time. He had to sit in a cell and feel what is like to be at the bottom before he could even begin thinking about changing for the better.

Sadly that's not what happened.

As you walked back to your new apartment the bags under your eyes became more evident. You had lost a patient today. A little baby girl lost to cancer in a battle called life. It left a mark at your heart, and her smiling face was still misty in your mind.

Your eyes spotted Matt who strode down the hallway dressed in a simple button up and jeans, looking extremely handsome.

You couldn't really blame yourself for ogling him. No matter what you told yourself, Matt Casey was still the type of man that had you on your knees.

His eyes returned to his usual glare and while normally you weren't affected by that, today his eyes were the last straw.

Your lip started to tremble, while your eyes were filling with moisture and hands were aggressively stuffed in your purse in a frantic search for your keys.

Matt's face immediately softened but before he could reach you, you had jumped inside and locked the door behind you.

Exhausted by life, you slowly slid down the door until your bottom had hit the dark laminate. You sobbed in a matter you thought was quiet.

But it wasn't.

Matt had pressed his ear against your door and listened closely. Your whimpers entered his ears and he felt everlasting guilt consume him. Did he do this?

He decided then and there that he was going to let go of his prejudice and make things right between you two.

***

Once the sun came out you realized that you were obligated to wake up and start your new date. Just like every time, you pretended to turn over a clean sheet and start your day as your best self.

Your morning routine passed rather quickly. Pretty soon you were sat in your new colorful armchair with tea in your hand and a magazine in the other.

You, just like many others, learnt how to leave your days work in your uniform. Last night being an exception. Once you put that blue uniform back on you were sure to welcome back the dark feelings, but until then, you enjoyed the feeling your silky pyjamas provided.

Your phone rang, and you reached out to answer it. One look at the phone had your face scrunched in distaste, "Yes Justin? How may I be of help today?"

If your brother noticed the sarcasm then he sure did a good job concealing it. Monotonously he greeted you back, "Can't I just call my favourite sister to see how she's doing?"

Rolling your eyes you trekked to your room to change, "Make it quick. I have to go to work."

"Dad's in jail."

"What?" You stopped in your tracks, hardly believing what's happening.

"You know dad." He said, "Don't worry sis. He'll be out in no time."

"This isn't funny Justin," You scolded, throwing a dark purple shirt over your head while your phone sat on your vanity, Justin on full volume speaker.

"Well... I thought you should know."

And with that he hung up.

Annoyed beyond words you grabbed the phone and threw it on your bed. It landed on your creamy sheets safely as you wrestled your jeans.

After that spectacle you grabbed your bag and stormed outside only to clash into something strong.

"Shoot I'm sorry-" You hastily apologized. Your hair was all over the place and you barely had enough time to collect your strands of hair behind your ear before looking at the person you had assaulted with your clumsiness not even twenty seconds earlier.

Matt Casey.

Oh how the stars aligned for you two.

"You." You spit.

He raised a blonde eyebrow at you as if saying that you had no audacity to say anything remotely accusing to him.

"Me?"

"Yes you!" You stomped your heeled boot like a child. "My dad's in jail because of you!"

It was like a switch was turned in his head. Matt took a menacing step closer. "Because of me? He did that to himself when he sent someone to kill me!"

"K-kill you?" You whispered, almost inaudible for him to hear. Suddenly your own words worked against you.

"Just because I wouldn't pull back my report." He explained to you. "And I'm glad I didn't. Your bastard of a brother deserves it for what he did."

You fully agreed with him but the emotions that bubbled inside you came to a boiling point. You could no longer hold back, and so you took a deep breath and spoke. "You think I support him? He got that little boy paralysed and you have the audacity to think I would support someone like that? He may be my older brother but that doesn't mean he has my love and support. I'm the first one in line when it comes to saying he needs to do time."

Your words were getting through to him, you could see it. "And as for my dad... He has his own issues, I admit. But there's one thing you need to know about him: he would do anything for his kids. And I mean it. He might be a dirty cop to you, but he's my father. Justin's too. Don't blame him for thinking that his son is able to change, because I'm damn sure you would do the same if you were in his shoes."

And with that you stormed off to see your father and give him a piece of your mind too.

MASTERLIST

#matt casey x reader #matt casey fanfiction #matt casey imagine #matt casey #chicago fire fanfictio #chicago fire #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd

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whatiscalligraphy · 4 months

Text

Personalized Calligraphy Journals: Unique & Artistic

Journal Selection for Calligraphy

Calligraphy Ink Options

Custom Cover Design Techniques

Binding Methods for Handmade Journals

Calligraphy Font Choices for Journals

Watercolor Paints for Journal Decoration

Personalized Journal Page Layouts

Embellishments for Journal Covers

Conclusion

FAQ

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oathofoaksart · 4 years

Photo

YOUNG JUSTICE OC: KITSUNE

bio under the cut!

BASICS Name: Leiko Ara A.K.A: Kitsune; Lei, Kit, L.A [only by Charlie] Age: 16 [S1 Era], 21 [S2 Era] Gender: Cisgender Female Orientation: Grayromantic Bisexual

Skin: Fair Hair: Plum-Black Eyes: Black, fully golden and slit-pupiled as Kitsune Height: 5'6”, 6’1” in platforms Build: Lithe, built like a dancer Distinctions: Distinctly pretty. Sharpened canines and nails. A sharp dresser, obviously wealthy, rarely seen without some type of heel.

RELATIONS Parents: Ryuu Ara and Cho Miyamotou [estranged] Siblings: N/A Friends: Wally “Kid Flash” West, Zatanna Zatara, M’gann “Miss Martian” M’orzz, Raquel “Rocket” Irving, Kaldur’ahm “Aqualad”, Dick “Robin” Grayson, Conner “Superboy” Kent, Artemis Crock, Haley Overbea [OC] Partner/s: Wally “Kid Flash/Flash III” West (ev. post-S3) Misc.: Charles “Scribe” Jenson [OC], Penelope “Poppet” Caskett [@PoltergeistPrincessa] Affiliations: The Spiral, The Team

PERSONALITY Personality Type: ENTP-A [Assertive Debater] Temperament: Choleric-Sanguine Alignment: Chaotic Good Clever | Self-Assured | Driven | Arrogant | Spiteful

Aristocratic in both upbringing and nature, Leiko likes to carry herself with regality. Her confidence and well-honed charm makes her a popular figure among her school peers, even though she keeps everyone at a cool arm's length. Her social aloofness leaves her with little to no close friends, which she figures is just as well, since she finds friends to be a waste of time.

Around others in the heroic scene, Leiko allows herself to show off. She’s known for her theatrical and flamboyant attitude, topped with a haughtiness she cares little to subdue. She’s assertive, witty, and adores a challenge. She lets this completely unfurl as the vain and dramatic Kitsune, who views the world as her stage and anyone watching her audience.

Leiko struggles with unlearning a deep-seated cynicism against others and is often skeptical of actions claimed to be done out of good will, which clashes with the ethics of heroism. Her grasp on empathy leaves much to be desired as well; she can be condescending, sharp, and impatient when the situation calls for exactly the opposite.

Still, steadily Leiko finds herself learning humility, trust, and care from her teammates, along the way forming friendships no Swiss bank account could buy.

ABILITIES AND WEAKNESSES

Powers and Abilities:

Physiology:

Lei doesn’t possess a human soul, but of that of her namesake, a kitsune. Her “soul” is instead a Hoshi no Tama, usually referred to as her soul bead. It is a fist-sized pearl that resides within her body. This is the source of her magic as well as her heightened physical attributes.

Enhanced Senses: Lei demonstrates fox-like senses. She sees just as well at night as she does during the day, hears better than a normal human, and has a better sense of smell. This doubles in the supernatural side, she can see, hear, and smell beyond the mortal plane.

Enhanced Physiology: Lei exhibits above-average speed, strength, endurance and rarely if ever comes down with diseases, viruses and the like.

Onmyodo: A traditional Japanese occultism

Illusion Magic: Lei’s strongest suit is her hold over illusion spells. Using a variety of paper charms, mirrors, physical cues, written and verbal spells, she's able to create confusion over her opponent. These illusions range from visual to audial, making it difficult to rely on one's own senses. Her illusions are often grandiose, jarringly colorful, with nods to the overall aesthetic influence of traditional Japanese art forms. In turn makes her relatively immune to similar tactics.

Barriers: Can alternately use barriers as a sort of defense or a barring mechanism. Barriers set up by paper charms are stronger and more durable than barriers set by simple verbal spells, however combining both techniques grants the best results.

Pyrokinesis: Lei’s kitsunebi is a mystic fire she can conjure in the form of pillars and spheres. Notably different to “mortal” flame, as it burns exclusively supernatural/otherworldly beings, but brings the sensation of weakness and illness to the human body.

Weapons and Inventory:

Enchanted Parasol:

Kit’s go-to weapon. By reaching over her shoulder, the same way one would unsheath a sword, her oil paper parasol materializes into her hand in a burst of flame. It serves both as a defensive and offensive tool.

Closed: While in her hands it doesn’t appear to weigh any more than a regular parasol, in combat it carries an inexplicable weight, able to break concrete. She uses it as a melee weapon, much like a bat or a club. Kit also uses it as a makeshift wand/staff, for bigger and more complex spells. And a favorite stun tactic of hers is to mimic pumping the action to a shotgun, aiming her parasol and “firing” it. It creates a momentary illusion of being “shot” to whomever her target may have been.

Open: Popping it open creates a quick-time personal shield, able to deflect various attacks and withstand a fair amount of explosive power. Ducking behind it obscures her from her opponent and she uses this window of time to work up a spell. Spinning the canopy of her parasol causes momentary dizziness. When jumping off of highland, the parasol allows Kit to glide for long distances (the amount of time and smoothness of the glide suffers when another person is in tow).

Ofuda: These paper charms can be used as delayed “bombs” affected by sticking them into walls, either simply timed or activated by touch. They also serve for warding spells. Gohei: A summoned short wand with a decorative paper trail, the length of the trail stretches during use. Lei uses it as a sort of weaponized gymnast ribbon, or a whip. Most effective against intaginable objects or enemies. Balance Charm: With Scribe's help and after many mishaps, Kit wears a beaded charm around her ankle which enables her limited enhanced movement. She appears to glide along, unweighted, making her movements seem feather light. It helps slow or cushion short distance falls and balance on unprobable surfaces. May also explain how she manages to fight in heels. Spellbook: Kit carries a small notebook with variant spells written herself for safe-keeping and for a quick reference check. Mirrors: Kit holds a small, two-faced mirror. The mirror serves to see through glamour illusions or create more intricate illusions of her own; more often than not, she uses it to admire a makeup job well done. Purification Salt: Ghosts in particular are vulnerable to salt, circles of it makes areas inaccessible to them. Calligraphy Set: A horse-hair brush, inkwell and a small stash of paper for written spells

Limitations and Weaknesses:

Water and Aquatic Environments: As host of a fire kitsune, Kitsune’s main and biggest weakness is water. Being around areas with large amounts of water dampens the potency of her magic, being doused in it cuts off completely until she dries off. While her parasol helps repel rain and small splashes, it can only do so much. The water effect includes any type, Lei incapacitaed by things such as baths and showers as well until she properly dries herself off.

Cynophobia: Lei’s “unprompted” fear of dogs, or really any sort of canine that aren’t foxes, can be traced back to Japanese folklore. Dogs were considered enemies of foxes, being used to hunt them down. People accused of being possessed by, or being kitsune, were sometimes forced to be licked head to toe by dogs in order to expel the demon to it’s true form. Dogs make Lei largely uncomfortable at best, aggressive dogs will either send her into a state of frozen terror or at worst, unabashed panic.

HISTORY [TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL HARASSMENT]

The only child of Ryuu Ara, a successful luxury hotel chain owner and president, Leiko grew up with the world served to her on a silver platter. She enrolled in the best schools, excelling in academics, popularity, and was starting to make headway as a teen model. Leiko formed into a pretty, precocious, if pretentious, girl.

At age 14, after wrapping up a student council meeting afterschool, the student body president forced her into a corner when she’d turned him down for a date. The boy grew increasingly aggressive, but was stopped from going beyond grasping at her blazer when a brilliant white flame unfurled from Leiko’s hands. She fled the second she found an opening, calling for help until she caught the attention of school security. The boy was found unconscious, but physically unharmed. (She would later find out, he complained of sudden illness and a downslide of rotten luck, with little to no memory on how he’d been knocked cold.)

Ryuu spared no expense on making sure justice was properly handed out, although that was simple when compared to the news Leiko gave him about her new ability to conjure flame. But he’d taken the revelation far easier than Leiko thought he would. Ryuu admitted it was something he’d been somewhat expecting, even dreading.

Leiko’s mother was something of a taboo subject. Outside of knowing her name was Cho (Ryuu never mentioned her maiden name) and that there had been an ugly divorce shortly after Leiko was born, she didn’t know much else. Even then, her father didn’t go into specifics beyond blaming Cho for Leiko’s newly discovered “peculiarity.” Ryuu ultimately decided it was best for Leiko to pretend she hadn’t discovered it. She had a bright future ahead of her as his heir and it wouldn’t be marred by her mother’s blood. Leiko obeyed despite her protests. They’d both come to realize, however, fire was just the beginning.

Over the following weeks, more abilities came to emerge, from heightened senses to supernatural awareness. She struggled under the pressure of maintaining the semblance of being normal. The weight of stress and desperation finally proved too much for Leiko, leading to a discussion gone sour, ending only when she noticed Ryuu backing away from the looming shadow of a four-tailed fox she cast on the wall. She would miss the following days of school when her eyes refused to revert back from their completely golden, slit-pupiled appearance.

Resigned, Ryuu took to looking into someone who could help Leiko with her magic troubles as this was beyond his reach.

That someone came to be a man by the name Scribe, a semi-public mystic who operated within New York. Scribe’s interest piqued at the mention of Leiko’s transformation and to the Ara’s slight relief, Scribe proved himself to be a sorcerer of true magic instead of a con-man looking for a quick buck. He’d confirmed their suspicions of Leiko being tied to the kitsune, fox spirits of Japanese lore, although he admitted he had little to no experience with said creatures.

Scribe refused to leave Leiko to sort things out on her own, however, and offered her a proposition. Scribe’s lifelong work dealt with a massive, mystical library he dubbed the Spiral, which housed knowledge from across space and time. Despite his years slaving away at discovering and archiving its secrets, progress was going at a crawl. He’d take Leiko under his wing, giving her access to whatever she could get her hands on and import what they couldn’t find from his various connections. In return, she’d take up being his personal assistant. Ryuu had been reluctant to let Leiko have a hands on approach and had made his dislike for Scribe apparent, but relented.

The world of magic was a far cry from the straight-laced, business-oriented life Leiko had grown in; it both terrified and fascinated her. Scribe, real name: Charles Mordichai Jenson (Charlie for short), proved to be an eccentric, but well-meaning guide where he could. As the two dove into research, Leiko let loose a sense of freedom and expression she stifled to fit her father’s expectations. Charlie was quick to help enable this. They were polar opposites in many ways, but Charlie saw a passion and potential in Leiko that mirrored his own at her age, and he fully intended to see it shine. It wasn’t long before Leiko wasn’t just checking inventory and jotting notes for both The Spiral and Jenson’s Comics (Charlie’s civilian pop culture store), but followed him out on relic retrievals and even the occasional “mystic field trip”. Charlie had been adamant on one thing when she stepped out of the safety of The Spiral however, much as he’d taken Scribe as his mantle, Leiko would have to make one of her own for the sake of her identity. It wasn’t a hard choice for her as it was practically staring her in the face, Kitsune took life. Over the next two years, Kitsune proved herself to be a capable magician despite being self-taught. Juggling her home, school and magic life was busy, but thrilling. Perhaps a little too thrilling. During an outing, Scribe and Kitsune were ambushed by a sorcerer named Felix Faust, who ultimately took Scribe prisoner. Well-aware of just how over her head she was, Kitsune went on a one-girl rescue mission to save her mentor anyway and was beyond relieved to find a young group of supers on the same trail.

The group, known simply as “The Team”, had been alerted of Scribe’s abduction through their resident mystic, Zatanna. Scribe had managed to send a distress signal before all communication cut off. Shoving down the twinge of jealousy that came with that revelation and of being out of the loop, Kitsune allied herself with the Team until Scribe was rescued. She was offered a permanent position on the Team, which she said she’d think over even though she had no interest in becoming a hero. She was more persuaded by the opposition placed by Scribe and the oddly genuine endearment shown by the Team’s speedster, Kid Flash.

Less than a few days later, an argument between Leiko and Charlie sparked by his confession of thinking she wasn’t right for the Team just yet sent her right to them out of spite.

Now taking a crash course in heroics, Kitsune tackles supercrime, training, self-reflection, team building and the frustrating, but integral importance of friendship.

NOTES

Kit has alternate versions of her Kitsune outfit and will switch between them mid-battle, either because she wasn’t feeling the one she was wearing, it got dirty, or a specific attack called for a wardrobe change

Because Lei’s brand of Onmyodo is largely “home-brew” given she’s self-taught, she incorporates other types of magic and styles to compensate

Lei has the passive ability of being ridiculously lucky, she never loses games of chance such as coin flips and dice rolls

The nickname ‘Lei’ was originally coined by Wally West and it’s a nickname she only allows within the perimeter of the Cave

Lei is proud of her musical skill, it’s not uncommon to hear her singing to herself and will shred an electric guitar when given the chance

She has a pet Bearded Dragon named Prince. Prince was a at-Death’s-door rescue surrendered to Charlie, who gave him to her after she helped nurse Prince back to health and she wound up attached to him

Lei’s father is unaware she’s taken up heroism, as far as Ryuu knows, she’s studying under Charlie to get her curiosity of magic out of her system

#young justice oc #dc oc #gar's oc #gar's art #oathofoaks #leiko ara #meet the OCs

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coffeestainsandcashmere · 3 years

Text

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - (older Dramione), Part Three

Wow! Thank you so much for your feedback and apparent enthusiasm for the previous parts, and for your excitement to see more in the future! I never imagined it’d get any traction, but I’m staggered and touched to see that people are enjoying it!

Here’s part three for you, as promised. I had written twice as much as this (around 7k in total) for part three, but I split it up into two. Part Four will go up tomorrow after I’ve given it another once-over. It’s tooth-rottingly adorable really. There’s pizza involved. And a little delving into the past.

Content warnings for part three: unexpected run-in with Ron, passing mention of past alcohol abuse (Ron), and general prejudices against Slytherins. Again, this isn’t supposed to be a Ron-bashing story, but relationships do break down when fundamental beliefs don’t align. If I seem harsh on Ron, I don’t really mean to be. Hermione also isn’t perfect or unbiased, but she has perhaps slightly more reason to be upset with him than he does with her. It will all be explained in a later part, I promise, but it has been hinted at already in the previous two parts.

Part One | Part Two

___

Friday found her lingering awkwardly in the Ministry’s echoing Atrium, waiting for Theo to come out of his last meeting of the day, up on level five. The problem with being the former Minister for Magic - and one so famously young - was that quite literally everyone knew who she was. So far, in the ten minutes she’d been standing there, a seemingly ceaseless line of twittering assistants and employees had come cringing up to her to ask if she needed anything.

She’d just sent the latest one packing with a tight-lipped ‘no, thank you. I’m just waiting for a friend,’ when someone cleared their throat behind her, and a familiar voice made her heart clench and her breath come short for half a moment.

“’Mione? What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Ron,” she sighed, even before she turned to face him.

In the decade or so since their divorce, he’d actually done pretty well for himself. Gone was the lingering paunch that had crept in towards the tail end of his quidditch career, and now he looked… well, quite frankly, he looked really good. He reminded her of Charlie Weasley a little, with floppy, roguish hair and a surprisingly lean figure once more. Becoming the coach of an internationally-recognised quidditch team suited him, clearly. That, and a happier, second marriage with Lavender, she supposed.

“How are you?” she asked, trying not to sound too stiff and failing abysmally.

“Good,” he said, rocking back on his heels for a moment with his hands shoved into his pockets. “What, uh, what brings you here then? Miss the place too much?” he asked with a little snort of laughter.

“Hardly, Ron,” she said with perhaps a little too much feeling. “No, I’m waiting for Theo.”

At the mention of Theo’s name, Ron’s eyes darkened. “Why?” he blurted.

“Why? Because he’s my friend, Ronald,” she said. “And what are you doing here? Come to blag your way out of another ‘drunk and disorderly in possession of a broomstick’, hmm?”

She knew even as she said it that her snide comment was uncalled for, and that she was being disproportionately petty, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Something about his lingering, bone-deep resentment of the people with whom she chose to associate these days just brought out the worst in her even now. She wasn’t proud of it. In her defence though, how many times had he tried to use the whole ‘The Minister for Magic is my wife’ ploy to get out of scrapes like that in the past?

Ron’s freckled face flushed at that. “I’m clean and sober now, Hermione,” he said. “Have been for the past five years, which you’d know if you ever came to any of Harry’s dinners. We used to be the ‘Golden Trio’ for fuck’s sake…”

Very quietly, and with what she thought was a remarkable degree of renewed self-control, Hermione said, “Excuse me for not wanting to intrude on your happy family, Ron. I am pleased to hear that though. That’s no small achievement. Congratulations.”

“But you’d still rather go scuttling off with the Slytherins instead of having dinner with me and Harry?” he said, eyes flashing.

There it was. There was the comment — the little dig at her choices — that she’d been waiting for ever since she’d mentioned Theo’s name.

“I hear that you and that lot are pretty tight now. Even dragged Neville into it.”

Her already-simmering outrage crept a degree or two hotter beneath the surface, and Hermione blinked rapidly. “‘Dragged’ Neville? Is that what you call his perfectly healthy and happy relationship with Pansy?”

“He wouldn’t have had anything to do with her if it wasn’t for you and Nott meddling. He’d have settled down with Hannah instead of leaving her for some Slytherin trust-fund bitch. You know she’s still heartbroken about it?”

Her eyebrows rose. That wasn’t how it had happened at all, though she knew Hannah was still upset, and she’d just opened her mouth to say so when she felt the prickle of other people’s eyes on them.

“I’m not discussing this, Ron, and I’m certainly not starting something here in the Ministry Atrium, for God’s sake,” she said, turning away. Her ears were starting to ring as her magic crackled inside her and she took a long, steadying inhale to try and calm down. People were indeed starting to stare, and she thought she glimpsed Gabriella Guile lurking near the sandwich shop with one of Rita Skeeter’s bloody ‘Quick-Quotes Quills’ hovering at the ready. “Please, Ron.”

He stepped in close and snarled, “Well, at least some of us still remember where our loyalties lie.”

Hermione saw red at that and spun back round to face him, eyes flashing and hair expanding like a Devil’s Snare. “Loyalty?” she spat. “You — you of all people — want to lecture me about loyalty?!”

Clearly he hadn’t followed that thought through to its conclusion before opening his mouth. He turned beetroot red and took half a step back, hands up defensively. “Look, Mione, I’m sorry. I didn’t come over to start another fight. It’s not like I expected to see you here - you don’t even work here anymore, and it’s not like we hang out or anything. How was I to know?” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I’m meeting Harry when he gets off work and we’re going for a drink at the Leaky. Let’s... Lets just forget it, ok?”

A hand landing gently but firmly between her shoulders made her jump and she whipped round to find Theo standing behind her, looming over her from his six-foot-something height. “Alright, love?” he asked in a steady baritone without taking his eyes off Ron.

“Ready to go,” she said tartly. “Say hi to Harry for me, Ron.”

And with that, they left the Ministry by floo for Theo’s.

As she stepped out of the swirling green flames of the fancy, Mayfair town-house’s marble fireplace only a moment or so behind him, she found Daniel rising from the sofa to greet Theo with a kiss, and once Theo had moved off through the house to hang up his cloak, he opened his arms to hug her warmly.

Dan, always a pleasure,” she said. “How are you?”

The unexpected meeting with Ron left her oddly rattled. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him at all in the decade since the divorce - his little sister was her own best friend, and she’d met Bill Weasley on more than one occasion during her time at the Ministry, but still, to see him doing so well for himself and to see him so happy should have made her pleased. After all the years of shared friendship that she genuinely cherished, she should have been happy for him.

Instead it galled and made her uncharacteristically bitter to know that he had everything he wanted now and he still couldn’t resist trying to rubbish the few things she had left of value in her life. Theo and Daniel were among her closest friends, and to her surprise, the rest of the Slytherins had adopted her into their little group without question.

“Let’s start a bit early, shall we?” Theo chimed as he re-entered the living room with three champagne flutes and a bottle of something French and no doubt eye-wateringly expensive floating in front of him. Since that left his hands free, he began undoing his cuff links as he walked. “The others should be here soon enough anyway, and I just closed a deal with the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France that I’ve been trying to hash out all year. Yay me.”

His flawless French accent made Hermione smile. Everything just seemed so easy and natural to Theo; it might have enviable if he weren’t such an affable sweetheart to go with it.

“Yay you,” Daniel chuckled, eyes glittering with affection as Theo handed Hermione a very full glass. “To my brilliant husband.”

Two hours later, amid the happy murmur of conversation that now filled the gorgeous, airy ground floor, Hermione looked up as the floo whooshed and Draco Malfoy stepped out. She’d begun to think he wasn’t going to show, and when she caught sight of him, a weight unexpectedly lifted from her chest. Something, at least, was going right today.

He had a heavy, black cloak around his shoulders and a bundle of brown paper parcels under one arm, printed with the logos of various Diagon Alley shops, though it was well past most of their closing times. She wondered where he’d been in the meantime, but didn’t want to pry.

Whether out of surprise or curiosity, the chatter in the living room sputtered out a little at his arrival before Pansy rose to her feet and flung her arms around his neck. “Draco, darling!” she laughed as she air-kissed his winter-pink cheeks and hissed melodramatically in his ear — loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear —, “I’m so glad you came; Blaise owes me ten galleons. He said you wouldn’t come.”

Draco twitched his lips fondly into something that was almost a smirk and unclasped his cloak as she stepped away from him. He folded it up neatly atop the parcels beside the now-still fireplace and shot her a look. “Glad to know how much my company is worth these days, Pans,” he drawled.

As he straightened, Hermione actually sank her teeth into her lower lip at the way his bespoke charcoal grey suit fitted him, accentuating his long, lean figure, with narrow hips and broad shoulders. He looked every bit the successful businessman while she was slouching around in the jeans and mauve hoodie she’d thrown on in the back room after closing the bookshop for the day. No wonder Pansy had given her an affectionately pitying grimace when she’d greeted her earlier.

Theo rose gracefully from his seat beside her on the sofa to join Draco and Pansy by the hearth, and he hugged Draco fondly, murmuring something in his ear. The two were almost a match in height, though where Theo’s hair was a warm, copper-streaked, chocolate brown and his skin a tanned, freckled olive, Draco’s hair and skin were almost as colourless as the marble fireplace behind him.

When Draco drew back this time, he spotted Hermione over Theo’s shoulder. He offered her a slow incline of his head, and allowed a clinking tumbler of whisky and ice to be pressed into his hand by Theo.

Hermione wasn’t really sure quite what she’d been expecting from Draco when she’d invited him to join Theo’s usual Friday night drinks. Whatever it had been though, it wasn’t the thoughtful, considerate conversationalist she now found engaging Neville in detailed discussion about the disadvantages of farming dittany commercially. For some reason, Draco’s icy exterior and apparently reclusive behaviour had made her think he might be socially awkward, but apparently one can’t train the upper-class manners out of someone once it’s been bred into their bloodline for umpteen generations, even after a dusty decade of disuse. Further to her surprise, he actually seemed genuinely interested in what Neville had to say about the difference in potency between rare, wild-harvested dittany and the farmed stuff.

Meanwhile, she just sat on the sofa with Neville on her left and Theo on her right, and only half-listened to the talk around her, not participating at all.

Despite everyone’s obvious enjoyment of the gathering, Hermione found herself unable to muster any of her usual social enthusiasm, and remained in pretty subdued silence. After a while, Neville politely excused himself to find Pansy, with an earnest promise to follow up on something or other for Malfoy, and his seat was not reoccupied.

In the lull, Malfoy took the opportunity to lean across the space from his armchair to the sofa and murmur, “Everything alright, Granger?”

From beside her, Theo looked round and slung his arm causally over her shoulders and squeezed. “Hermione had a small run in with her ex-husband in the middle of the Ministry Atrium.”

Draco’s eyes flashed and his lip curled minutely.

“Nothing dramatic, but the prick had the nerve to insinuate that Slytherins make for poor company. Luckily, dear Hermione reminded him that we’re not all still twelve years old...”

She managed a smile at that. “Don’t let me rain on your party, Theo, but I think... I think I will head home now.”

“Feel free to floo,” he breezed, waving the hand that had been around her shoulders with a flash of the gold signet ring on his little finger, “But obviously I’d much rather you stay and drink yourself into a giggling stupor again... It’s been far too long since that happened.”

“You drink yourself into a giggling stupor every Friday, Theo. I’m sure you can manage to do it again on my behalf tonight. I’d love to stay, but it’s all getting a bit... loud now anyway...” she said vaguely. “I think I’ll walk home.”

Theo just nodded and gave her an affectionate little wink that would have looked corny on anyone half as charming. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart. Say hello to whatever your book-du-jour is for me. Will it be Emily or Charlotte this time?”

Draco frowned in confusion and she laughed a little. “Charlotte.”

Still cleanly nonplussed, Malfoy looked from Theo to Hermione before Theo grinned at him. “Brontë,” he said conspiratorially. “Muggle author.” He looked back to Hermione and said, “Means it’s an evening with dear Jane Eyre then. Haven’t you read that a hundred times?”

“More, probably,” she chuckled, standing. “Goodnight, Draco. I’m glad you came. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

He nodded, looking slightly winded for some reason, and offered nothing else.

After saying goodbye to a few people, and finding that Pansy had somehow managed to drape herself successfully across Neville’s lap despite the fact that he was sitting on a bar stool of all things, Hermione headed for the front door and slipped out into the night alone.

With her coat still over the crook of one arm despite the biting wind, she made her way from Theo’s cushy house out into wider Muggle London, and from there she began to meander.

Just as she crossed the boundary into Hyde Park, she heard running feet and someone calling her name. To her surprise, she turned and found Malfoy loping along the pavement after her.

Halting, she waited for him to catch up and looked curiously up at him. His pale cheeks were flushed pink again from the bout of light exercise, his breath billowed white, and his hair seemed to glow like burnished silver in the harsh light of the street lamps. It was hard to doubt the rumours of him being part Veela in moments like that.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she asked when he didn’t articulate the reason for his hasty journey. “Did I forget something?”

“No, I —“ he faltered and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. The motion ruffled his hair into something altogether softer and more attractive. He cut it much shorter at the sides now but left the top longer, and it had an attractive wave to it that had once been oiled out of existence in his earlier years at Hogwarts. “I thought — ach, this was a stupid idea.”

“What do you mean? What was a stupid idea?”

“I thought I’d come after you and see if you were alright. You looked fucking miserable back there, Granger.”

“You taught your son foundation spellwork with that mouth, Malfoy?” she countered, slightly staggered by his apparent thoughtfulness. This was not the Malfoy she remembered at all, and it was gratifying to find that her experience of him over lunch had not been a one-off.

He smirked and the effect was disarming in a way it never had been at Hogwarts. “I do try not to swear around him, but if he’s learnt something uncouth, I couldn’t promise it didn’t come from me. Or Theo. Actually it’s more likely to have come from Theo.”

She laughed suddenly. “Your little mandrake,” she sighed.

Something odd passed across his face and he stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket. “Salazar’s balls,” he cursed. “It’s colder out here than I thought.”

Wandlessly, she murmured a spell to extend the radius of her own extant warming charm to surround them both. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Left my cloak and stuff back at Theo’s.”

Hermione smiled and gestured with the arm holding her coat. “I’d offer you mine, but I’m not sure even you could pull off a Muggle women’s rain mac that’s several sizes too small for you.”

“Oh I don’t know,” he said. “I think I could transfigure it into something… workable.”

“You sound just like Theo and Dan and Pansy,” she groaned. “They’re always threatening to take me shopping. I’m terrified to let them loose on my wardrobe. I’m afraid I’ll never see another pair of comfy jeans again!”

“Don’t listen to them. The way you dress is just fine,” he said easily. “Besides, you give that lot an inch and they’ll take a mile. You should always stand your ground, especially against Pansy…”

“Well, I’ve got Nev on my side too,” she said. “Though even I have to admit that she’s had a positive effect on his wardrobe. Maybe I should let her take me shopping after all... I probably couldn’t afford the places she shops though,” she laughed, then looked up to find an odd light in Malfoy’s grey eyes. “You really came haring through London after me just to check I was alright?”

“And walk you home if you’d like,” he added. “But I’ll leave you in peace if I’m imposing. Heavens know you’ve had one pushy bloke to deal with already today...”

“The last thing I think of you right now is ‘pushy’, Malfoy. I think you’re very kind to come after me.”

He looked away at that and a private smile graced his lips. Bloody hell though; where some people’s looks seemed to have been watered down with age, Malfoy’s features had been honed and refined by time into something akin to a masterpiece, with high, sharp cheekbones and a slim, and clearly very fit and healthy, figure. It made her stomach swoop and ache again in a way she hadn’t felt in years. It also made her feel a little self-conscious of the softer curves she was carrying around her hips, arms, and lower stomach these days. Hefting books around kept her strong, but a largely sedentary life in the bookshop wasn’t doing wonders for her once-svelte figure, it had to be said.

He nudged his elbow out a few inches and she smiled, taking the offer and sliding her fingers into the crook of his arm.

They set off and walked slowly, aimlessly, along the walkways of Hyde Park, and for a long time neither of them spoke. A cyclist shot past them at one point, and Malfoy watched him disappear into the distance with an inquisitive frown, as if trying to figure out how it could possibly function. He never said anything though, and they carried on, warmed by Hermione’s spell and encased in an oddly amicable silence.

It was Malfoy who broke the silence at last. “You find this strange, Granger?” he asked, glancing down at her.

Her breath caught as she stared up into those full-moon eyes of his; bright and silver and so god-damned intense. Gone was the pinched look of fear and insecurity lingering in the corners. Gone was the cruel, steely glint. The lines of his face were still hard and severe, and he carried a hefty frown most of the time, and that trademark pointy chin was still there, but he really had grown up, inside and out, and it showed.

“Strange?” she croaked. “What, you and me walking arm in arm through Hyde Park at seven in the evening?”

“Mmm,” he nodded.

“A little,” she admitted as she looked ahead up the path. “A little.”

Part Four

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As before, if you like where it’s going and want to see more, do let me know! I will post it on Tumblr as I write it, and once it’s all complete, I’ll plop it onto AO3 in one go. That way keeps the pressure off a bit, I think? Anyway, let me know if you’re enjoying it, and why, either by reblogging this or sending me an ask

writing masterlist | Ao3

#dramione #older dramione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger x draco malfoy #draco malfoy #hermione granger #dramione fic #older dramione fic #hermione x draco #let no man steal your thyme

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