#how to dye glass jars

[beautyandhealthtips123]

Variety of Spices in Glass Dispensers

When your values are clear to you, making decisions becomes easier. See more...

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[peachywritess]

happiness looks good on you ー knj

☁️ genre: long-term lovers, estabilished relationship, fluff, kind of domestic!au, namjoon being a supportive husband.

☁️ pairings: husband!kim namjoon x artist!female!reader

☁️ warnings: there aren't any, just joonie being husband material, use of pet names such as jagiya, baby, love.

☁️ word count: 1,7k

☁️ author's note: just a small little thing i had in mind, not my best but i really liked writing this, i hope you like it bubs!!<3

Feedbacks are welcomed !

The brush plopped into the water jar, and a few drops of coloured liquid spilt on the wooden surface. Some ended up on your phone which lit up, the lock screen displaying your favourite picture: you and Namjoon holding a white teddy bear he had won at an amusement park. You remembered that day clearly: it was your first anniversary.

You had captured the moment with a polaroid camera Namjoon had bought as a gift, and you still hadn’t figured out how it worked so the shot came out far too bright. However, looking at that picture years later still brought a sense of warmth and nostalgia: you were both so young, inexperienced, and still seeking to understand each other. Seven years had passed since that day, and so many things had happened: your trip to Bali, rescuing two calico cats and naming them Zelda and Esme, your tour of Europe, and then your marriage.

Your house was full of memories and pictures from your numerous adventures like the one in the Italian Alps where you were too scared to cross a suspended bridge, and Namjoon had to carry you for more than a mile. Or the one in the french Blue Coast when he had mistaken tanning oil for sunscreen so you both had pretty bad sunburns for the entire week.

“I told you to buy sunscreen, Joonie - sunscreen!”

“It is! See, huile de bronzage.” He had panicked showing you the little brown bottle.

“It literally means tanning oil, Namjoon Kim!”

A smile shone on your lips ー reminiscing all of the wonderful memories you had made together. You missed his buzz cut, and how his short hair used to tingle your palms: when you were younger, Namjoon let you dye it in different colours. One time, you had opted for pretty pink flowers, and the dye had stayed on for months.

You loved that he couldn't give a damn about other people's judgement - in fact - he would always brag to his hyungs how talented his girlfriend was. Surely, he would let you know.

"Jagiya, you are so talented. Please dye my hair forever!"

You had majored in arts whereas Namjoon had chosen to open up a travel agency. Initially, it was not easy for either of you: you had only each other's support and getting through the month was always difficult.

Namjoon stayed out late to advertise his shop, but despite this he would always stay up all night watching you finalise one of your paintings, making sure to bring you a glass of water about every half hour because "it's important to stay hydrated when you are working hard."

He would try his best to stay awake by telling you about his day, showering you with compliments and then attempting to analyse what you were painting. You would quietly listen to him, some mhmh's and mhh's in response and occasionally interrupt his chatter to tell him to get some rest. Yet each time he reiterated the same phrase: 'I'll stay awake as long as you do, love'.

And so within minutes he would fall asleep on the couch and you would bring a blanket and a pillow for him to be comfortable.

But now, his hair had grown out and you had practically lost the sparks you usually felt when you painted. Finishing a canvas was now something you had to do - and really didn't enjoy at all.

“You have one month, Y/N. Then I will shred the contract to pieces, understood?”

You listened in silence as your boss complained over the phone, her voice a few octaves higher.

“I mean, what happened to you? Do you think I pay lazy and unmotivated people? Our company seeks talent and commitment, and I’m afraid you no longer have any of these requirements.”

You sharply inhaled pinching the bridge of your nose, back resting against the chair as Namjoon stood right behind you, he too in silence. His hands were placed on your shoulders, which he stroked softly.

“I understand, Mrs Han. I am working on a piece at the moment, and I swear that it will be done in less than a month-” 

You took all of your courage to speak - that woman truly scared you. Ms Han was the director of the agency you worked for, whose aim was to sell artwork at a premium price. She was a fifty-year-old woman with a passion for belittling her employees and underpaying them.

“No more promises, I don’t care. I just want that piece at the end of this month.” She interrupted you, and you sighed.

Just know that this is your last chance.”

And just like that she hung up, leaving you lost in a limbo of disbelief and terror: you could not afford to lose this job. 

Yes, it probably wasn't the best job on the planet, but you hadn't yet realised your dream of opening your own atelier, and this company - although not particularly ethical - was a sure ticket to gaining a small amount of notoriety in the industry.

“Wow, what a bitch.” Namjoon proclaimed breaking the silence and bringing a small smile to your lips. 

“Damn right she is.”

You groaned, squinting your eyes shut, before running your hands down your face - in a gesture of sheer exasperation. “I could end her whole career if I wanted to.”

“Then do that, baby. You have nothing to lose, she does.”

You let your head fall back, resting it on the chair, finally meeting your boyfriend's gaze. He was smiling, and his dimples looked so adorable you wanted to squeeze his cheeks.

“Um, probably my job, Joonie?”

“Yeah, that’s a good point.”

Namjoon leaned forward until you were close enough to look directly into his eyes, then left a soft kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes, savouring that brief moment of tranquillity. His attention then shifted to the canvas in front of you - a few lines of red paint already starting to dry up - and observed it thoroughly without saying a word.

"Do you remember when you accepted the job offer?" He questioned.

"Mhmh, what about it?"

"And do you also remember what you told me?"

You bit your lower lip, scratching your chin with your index finger.

You had said a million, no, a billion things to Namjoon before you signed that contract.

"Um, wish me luck?" You said in a slightly questioning tone, and your husband facepalmed.

With a swift movement, he turned the chair you were sitting on allowing you to look him directly in the eyes. That gesture made you blush and you stared at him with doe eyes.

"No, jagi, not the correct answer." He tilted his head, soft jet-black locks brushing his forehead. "You promised me you wouldn't let them change you."

You were struggling, and that broke his heart.

Namjoon knew you were desperately trying to paint something, anything that would please your boss. He had examined the shift in your brushstrokes from time to time, and they didn’t seem to belong to you. They were abrupt and quick, whereas you always directed them with gentle movements.

He was not seeing you on that canvas, instead, he was seeing a version you had been forced to become.

"Is it worth it, love? Do you want to become a machine for them to make more money?"

You sighed. He was right ー Namjoon was so right.

You had completely forgotten how it felt to make art, you had forgotten how it felt to be free. You had submitted to their rules because they had made empty promises from the start and you had believed them.

Namjoon crouched down, resting his hands on your knees. In that position, the light coming from the window illuminated his face as you gazed at him with pure admiration. He was glowing.

His brown eyes seemed to light up, turning a honey-like amber colour.

"Joonie..." You murmured as your hands gently grabbed his. "I can't lose this job, I just cannot."

"Y/N, you are the best thing to ever happen to me, you know that right?"

His thumbs softly rubbed the back of your hands, something he always did to comfort you. As he stroked he gently drew imaginary shapes like circles, flowers or hearts.

You hummed in response locking eyes with him.

"That's why I want the best for you. I want you to be happy because I can't bear the thought of you ever suffering. And what I truly wish for, is for you to find your love for art again, and-"

"Baby..."

"I don't want you to feel obligated because I swear to you Y/N, I will always support you no matter what," he then grabbed both your hands in his, and brought them to his lips. "but I wish you just left this job."

You smiled when Namjoon placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. Despite all these years, he had never changed: he was still the same old romantic and you couldn't complain.

"I know, Joonie, but what if I can't find anything? What if... I don't make enough money to open the atelier?"

Namjoon lightly squeezed your hands, his eyes never leaving yours as one hand cupped your cheek, delicately caressing it.

"Jagiya, you are the most talented woman I've ever known, and you can do whatever you wish to do. You inspire me every day."

"I wouldn't even know where to start." You relaxed in his touch, letting out a breath.

The warmth of his hand unexpectedly left your cheek, and that's when you saw him searching for something in the pocket of his jeans.

"Perhaps, you could start with these."

You blinked quickly observing the object your husband was holding before your eyes. You raised your eyebrows in confusion, not understanding why he was showing you a pair of rusty keys.

Then, a wave of realisation hit you.

Namjoon immediately noticed your eyes turning glazy and your mouth opening slightly in an expression of pure wonder. You grabbed the keys with trembling hands and clutched them to your chest, heart racing.

"The place is a bit run down, but I am sure that in a few months, we will manage to make it perfect."

Without wasting a second you threw your arms around his neck, and tears of happiness fell from your eyes. You couldn't believe it: your dream had just come true.

"I love you so much, Joon, I- I can't believe it. I love you!"

Namjoon stroked your hair, unable to resist tearing up with you, holding you close to him. At that moment, all he wished was for time to stand still and remain like that forever.

"I love you too, princess."

Happiness looked so good on you.

©️ peachywritess 2023. All rights reserved.

Please consider reblogging my works if you like them! <3

#namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x female reader #kim namjoon x female reader #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon fluff #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon fic #kim namjoon one shot #bts x reader #bts x female reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagine

[unidentifiedmammal]

Alrighty so this is the post on lichen dyes!

this particular bath of lichen dyes was originally started over a year ago scraping a tentatively-ID'd lecanora and/or ochrolechia genus lichen off of a fallen branch (remember, don't gather lichen when it's still growing! it's very slow growing and easy to overharvest)

to start off, this particular type of dye is made through the ammonia-fermentation method, also known as ammonia maceration. No actual bacterial fermentation occurs though. Rather, the compound orcinol (and precursor compound to orcinols) react with ammonia (N2) and oxygen to form the compound orcein (also called orchil/archil) which is what makes the final dye!

this process takes anywhere from 3 weeks to 16+ weeks depending on the lichen species, its constituent acids, the temperature, and the frequency of aeration.

This batch was set aside for several months and neglected a good bit, but it still works. I strained out the crumbled lichens (which i set aside for later) and diluted it 1:4 as instructed by a very good book called Lichen Dyes: The New Source Book by Karen Diadick Casselman. This book is basically omnipresent everywhere you see lichen dyes mentioned, especially the orcein-based dyes. I also used several websites/videos/papers and such that i've hunted down over various internet crawls.

I use an old coffee pot for this as it's both a non-reactive material (glass) and is built to withstand heat. Ironically i also scraped the lichens off the branch using a tool i made out of a metal band from the broken handle of this same coffee pot!

I decided to dye some eri silk cakes that i fluffed up and scoured. these have been very good at absorbing dye in the past so i would hopefully get a good result from them. As lichens are a substantive dye i don't have to put a mordant on them, but i did soak them in an alum solution just before adding them to the dye bath to hopefully maximize dye uptake as well as improve fastness as lichen dyes are also fugitive and can fade in sunlight.

Substantive dyes contain mordants already embedded in them; fugitive dyes are a bit fuzzy to me but my understanding is they end up trapped in the fiber instead of actually bonding to the fiber in a stronger way. Mordants are used to help the dye "bite" onto the fiber better, improving both fastness (the ability of a due to resist fading from sunlight/washing/time) and the brightness of a color. Alum is useful in that it typically doesn't affect the end color of a dye more than simply making it slightly more strong!

it was pretty successful i'd say! i warmed up the dyebath, added the silk, let it simmer for a few hours, let it cool down overnight, and then warmed it back up the next day for a few hours; then, when it cooled, i took it out, let it dry, then rinsed it, and let it dry a second time. At that point, it was ready for spinning!

It was a lovely pink color that's not fully captured by the camera like most dyes, and eri silk is lovely because you can spin the clouds directly and easily without carding and make lovely relatively threadlike yarn

this was the first skein i got! i love how shiny the silk is. Some dyes can get really purple or even magenta-like!

next, i had the leftover lichens that i had set aside. They were a crumbly texture and dark black and i dried them out, crushed them up more, set them back in a jar, added more ammonia and water, and did the ammonia fermentation method a second time! this was after reading about the method for making french purple, and while this is definitely a very pale imitation of the method, the double-soak is the key feature here

here it is (on the left); it was already way darker purple than an in-progress lichen dye i had yet to crack open and use

speaking of which, heres a shot of various test lichens i had while working on this, you can see the blue-capped jar that has the second-soaked lichens. the foam will often give a preview of whether or not the dye will be red/purple or not!

Here it is, i forget how long i let it soak but i think it was a bit over a week. i strained the material out, diluted it, and then repeated the same warm/cool/warm/cool/dry/rinse/dry method with more eri silk

And below you can see the difference, it's definitely slight but still cool!

the left is from the original dyebath, the right is the second-soaked one. the first one is more salmon-colored while the second is a tad more blue-purpled!

I'm extremely excited about this, these dyes have such a fascinating history and have multiple historical uses everywhere from florentine orchil to norwegian korkje to scottish cudbear and more, and it was often used in tandem with the roman murex/tyrian purple dyes that come from a mussel. Some folks used the lichens to pre-dye the fabric before dyeing with tyrian purple, both to stretch the expensive tyrian purple and to make the end color more vibrant. It's all such a great topic that's mightily confusing and could take up a post of its own, same with the underlying chemistry of what makes these dyes work in the first place!

Anyways that's all for this post, i have more i'm working on involving actually turning these dyes into paint that i'll hopefully turn into a post on its own soon! I've also got other lichen dyes I'm waiting to get through the ammonia fermentation process that will hopefully give other colors, whenever that may be!

#lichen dyes #ammonia fermentaion #handspinning #natural dyes #eri silk #yarnmaking #fiber arts #vegetable dyes #orcinol #art #orcein #archil #crafts #yarn #silk #drop spindle

[lovelytsunoda]

bump in the night // alex albon

summary: y/n hates being scared, so when alex freaks her out on movie night, he takes advantage of that. or, where alex pranks y/n until he really can’t explain why the lights suddenly went out

pairing: alex albon x female reader

warnings: alex being a prankster, very small itty bitty (oral) smut scene towards the end. fear of the dark, mentions of appendicitis and alex's recovery. 'daddy' is used in a joking and non-sexual context.

authors note: the cozy collection is almost complete and i'm actually getting so emotional??? unless i can pull more ideas out of a hat, it's just charles and george left and then i start planning for christmas

it was dark and windy outside, curtains drawn closed and windows shut, pumpkin scented candles burning on the coffee table. y/n and alex were curled up next to each other on the couch, a plush calvin klien blanket thrown over the duo, y/n's hand clutching on to alex's as she jumped.

the driver laughed under his breath as y/n elbowed him in the chest.

"i thought you said that this movie wasn't scary!"

"i didn't think that it was!" alex defended, rubbing at the sore spot on his ribs

"well, you were wrong!"

"you weren't unsettled when we watched silence of the lambs! how is this one scary?"

"because it just is!"

alex laughed, straightening on the couch before kissing the side of y/n's head and putting an arm around her shoulders as she rested her head on his well-built body. "let me protect you, sweetheart."

"jackass." she said softly, lacing alex's fingers with hers.

the movie finished half an hour later. alex said that he was going for a shower and y/n set about cleaning up the living room, trying to take her mind off the gory movie that had just finished.

she blew out the pumpkin spice candle, placing the glase bell-jar lid back over top of the wax before she folded the blanket, humming to herself as she tidied.

without warning, the room was plunged into darkness, the haolgen bulbs set back in the ceiling blinking out. the sudden descent into darkness caused the young woman to jump, hitting her knee on the corner of the coffee table as she yelped.

the lights came back on, and she saw alex standing by the switch, trying desperately not to laugh.

"alexander albon!" she shouted. "that was so not funny!"

his hair was damp. he had just gotten out of the shower. the idea had come to him while he was washing the last of the red dye out of his hair, when he thought about a way to bring in the halloween spirit.

"it was a little bit funny!"

y/n rolled her eyes. "i hit my knee on the table. it's gonna bruise like hell now."

"sorry, baby." alex said quietly, moving closer and pulling y/n into his arms. "how about you leave the rest of the tidying for the morning, and we go snuggle underneath the mountain of blankets waiting for us in the bedroom" he lowered his voice, whispering in y/n's ear. "and i'll protect you from all the things that go bump in the night."

_________

the next incident was three days later, she was working on a paper for her contract law class, earbuds in and effectively dead to the world. alex was out with patrick for his morning run and training session, trying to keep in shape for suzuka without over exerting himself or pulling any stitches from his operation.

y/n wouldn't be joining him due to her midterm exams.

she'd missed the last four races because of school, with an exception for her flight out to italy after he was admitted into surgery, frantically emailing her professors and calling it a 'family emergency'.

her fingers flew across the keyboard, laptop screen reflecting off her blue light glasses. she truly was in a world of her own.

which is where alex got that terrible, horrible, no good idea.

he had just come back from training with patrick, soaked in sweat and exhausted. and that's when he saw y/n: poking his head through the living room doorway to see her curled up under the blankets, lit candle on the table next to her.

how funny it would be, he thought, to sneak up on her?

and that's just what he did, creeping into the room on the tippy-top of his toes, devilish grin on his face.

she looked so peaceful like that. serene, almost, as she started at the screen, then at her notes and back, delicate fingers flying across the keyboard.

she was so concentrated, that when she felt the pressure on her shoulders, there was nothing she could do but scream, leaping out of the chair with enough effort that it fell over onto alex's socked feet, and y/n almost tumbling over the desk behind her as she turned to face her attacker, yanking out her airpods.

"alex? what the fuck!"

alex was lying on the ground, where he had fallen, startled, after she got up from her chair. he was laughing like mad, bringing his hands up to sheild his face as she playfully nudged him in the ribs with her foot.

"sorry, baby! it's just too easy!"

y/n rolled her eyes. "jokes on you, you're not getting laid tonight."

_________

"you taste so good, darling. i'm going to miss this while i'm gone."

y/n moaned, throwing her head back against the cabinets as she fought the urge to clench her thighs together around alex's head.

it was an unholy scene in the couple's kitchen: y/n was perched on the countertop, cable knit sweater bunched up over her hips, alex's warm, large hands keeping her thighs spread wide as he slowly licked at her sopping core.

there was no rush on either side, alex intent on making this moment last as long as possible before he was due to fly to japan. one of his least favorite parts of surgery recovery was being told that he couldn't participate in 'vigorous activity', sex falling under that category.

now that he had been medically cleared to race (because that was still a grey area in singapore), the driver was trying to make up for lost time.

"ah, alex!" y/n whined, running her fingers through his hair. "i need more. can you go a little faster, please."

he didn't pick up the pace, instead wasting no time in inserting two fingers, knuckle deep. y/n found herself clapping a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming in pleasure and concerning the neighbors.

"mhm, don't cover your mouth, babygirl. i want to hear every little sound that you make for me."

"oh god, alex!"

it wasn't long before she came on his fingers, breathing heavy and covered in a cold sweat as alex pressed a warm cloth to her thighs to clean her up.

"do you have to go to japan? can't you let nyck drive again, say something went wrong with your recovery?" y/n said quietly, her forehead resting against alex's, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"i wish i could, darling. i know you hate it when i leave."

she slid off the counter, pulling alex in for a hug and resting her head on his chest. "at least i have time off for texas."

"at least you'll be in texas. i'll call you every day, regardless of the time difference."

"i wouldn't expect anything less." y/n gently pulled away, picking up her jeans and panties from the tile floor. "i'm gonna go for a shower, and then maybe we curl up on the couch together and watch a not scary movie?"

alex chuckled, kissing her gently. "of course, my love. whatever you want."

"and could you clean the counters for me? you know, since it's your fault they got dirty in the first place?"

alex rolled his eyes, but the truth was that y/n had him wrapped so well around his finger that he would pretty much do anything for her.

y/n was in the shower, warm water cascading over her back as she ran her shampoo-covered fingers through her delicate strands of hair, cinnamon bun-scented soap bubbles dripping down her limbs.

alex was in the kitchen, lysoling the entire counter where the couple had their earlier escapades. for reasons alex couldn't explain, the kitchen had quickly become his favourite place to fuck. there was something about the simple domesticity of it all that really turned him on. for that reason, the kitchen was always fully stocked with lemon scented lysol.

the outage was sudden, the house plunged into total darkness with no explanation. alex dropped everything the moment that he heard y/n scream.

she hated the dark, she always had. so when her shower was plunged into darkness and she was momentarily unable to see her hands in front of her face, so couldn't stop the terror creeping in.

"alex!" she shouted stumlbing out of the shower and groping the tile wall for her plush bathrobe. "if this is some kind of foreplay for you, i swear to god!"

alex almost tripped ober his own feet as he charged up the stairs, pushing the bathroom door open. the shower was off, but the steam was still heavy in the air. he knew y/n was terrefied of the dark, that's why when he turned the light out to be funny, it was never for longer than half a minute.

never long enough for the terror to set in.

"y/n, sweetheart? i'm right here, everything is okay." he said, using his phone flashlight to find her in the cavernous bathroom. the navy blue paint on the walls only seemed to make the dark room feel smaller as he pulled his girlfriend into the safety of his warm embrace.

"it wasn't you, right? the lights, i mean."

"the ones in the kitchen won't turn on. i think its an outage."

"fuck." she wrapped her still-damp arms around alex, hiding her face in the side of his neck. she was starting to relax until she heard a crash come from downstairs.

"what the fuck was that?" alex asked, nerves on edge. "babe, stay here."

she shook her head. "please don't leave me alone up here."

"right, right. i'm sorry, just stay behind me, okay?"

they walked down the stairs together, y/n always one stair behind alex, fingers digging into his shoulders as the driver held his phone out, the small flashlight illuminating the kitchen as the couple walked towards the patio door.

"can you see anything?" y/n asked, voice shaky.

alex shook his head. "not yet."

anxiety was high as there was another sound coming from the living room, something that sounded like a candle jar falling onto the plush carpet. they both jumped, and y/n was sure that her nails were going to cut through the fabric of alex's t-shirt, leaving marks in his tanned skin.

two dark shapes padded across the lving room floor, darwing closer and closer to the couple as y/n tried not to freak out.

"alex, they're coming closer!"

the driver moved back quickly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he tried to escape, shining his flashlight on the floor before he burst into laughter.

y/n, who had her eyes clamped shut, didn't see what alex saw. "what is it, why are you laughing?"

"babe, open your eyes. everything is okay. it's just the cats."

she opened her eyes and let out a massive sigh of relief as she looked down and saw the housecat snuggle up to her bare leg. she laughed to herself before she bent down and scooped gucci into her arms, holding the cat close and burying her nose in his fur.

"you gave mama quite a scare, little one." she said quietly, chuckling to herself as alex picked up horsey. "grab my laptop while we're down here, we can watch a dvd in bed."

alex grinned. "i think i have a copy of talladega nights lying around here somewhere."

"babe, i will do a lot of things for you, but subjecting myself to talladega nights is not one of them." smiling to herself, she turned back to the cat in her arms. "what's daddy like, hm guc?"

"well if you keep talking like that," alex hummed, sliding 'hocus pocus' off the dvd shelf. "we won't even make it past the opening credits."

"in your dreams, albon."

#the cozy collection 2022 #alex albon x reader #alexander albon x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #alex albon #alex albon smut

[jbbartram-illu]

Hey hi hello!

I’m a big fan of your work, I bought a small raven witch from you, which I love and cherish, and I was wondering if I could ask you what kind of tools you’re using for your sgraffito?

I’m getting back into ceramics myself, and I just got a little jackalope cup back from the kiln, where I tried to sgraffito détails in my slip, but the cobalt was meltier than I anticipated and it covered most of them. I think I need to work on my application, but also that a thicker line might help, and I was wondering what you were using?

You can check my stuffs at @unnamedartist-portfolio if you want, and if you have any advice, I would be so honored to hear them!

Hope you have a fantastic day! :)

Hello @iam-adreamwalker! My apologies for taking 500yrs to reply to this - I've only just now found the time to take some better photos of my sgraffito gear.

These are basically all of my sgraffito tools, but you definitely don't need this many (I just have a pottery-tool-buying PROBLEM). My core tools are the ones to the left - the two pointy sticks & the two carve-y guys. Both of the wire loop tools are by Kemper, and I'm not 100% sure the brands of the sticks. The colourful set is from Xiem and is nice if you're doing a ton of sgraffito work, because it offers so many options for carving! I especially like the round-loop tools for carving feathers.

Here are some close-ups of my main tool gang:

I especially like the darker-brown stick tool because its point is slightly rounded, making it easier to scrape the slip off the surface of the clay vs. just making a deeper line that won't be as dramatic (more on technique later!).

Speaking of rounded-tip tools, I just realized I forgot my other favourite, a core tool that could replace the lighter-wood pointy stick in my Most Important Sgraffito Tools ranking - the ball-ended, double-sided stylus! This thing is a tiny powerhouse and, like the more rounded point on the dark-wood stick, it gently draws the slip off the clay rather than gouging:

Next up, slip! I'm not sure what you were using as your colour layer, because you mentioned that it ran/moved on the surface of the clay, which my stained slip doesn't do. Did you mix glaze into the slip? Or were you working with a powered pigment?

When I'm making coloured slip, I use a powdered pigment called Mason Stain, which can be used to dye slip, clay, and clear glaze bases (eg. to make translucent celadon glazes). I use a couple different brands, but it's all called Mason Stain.

If you're a sensible person you can find proper recipes for mixing the slip and the stain, but I honestly go by how it looks - I add it to the slip a few spoonfuls at a time, mix, and see how pigmented the slip looks. If you want to really make sure the pigment is well-mixed you can get a stick blender from a thrift store or attach a mixing head onto an electric drill (something I'd like to upgrade to as the stick blender is SUPER messy & hard to clean out), but I mostly just mix it really well with a stir stick.

Once it's mixed, I keep my slips in these little self-sealing glass containers from IKEA, which stop it from drying out too fast (I tried keeping slip in regular jars & it turned into a rock...you definitely need a container with a rubber seal on it!). You'll still need to add water here & there, but it can sit for weeks without too much concern.

My slip is a little thick & gloopy, so I usually brush two layers of slip onto the leather-hard sculpture, letting each dry before I put on the next coat, and I let it dry until it's no longer at all tacky before I start carving (otherwise things WILL smudge and it WILL be terribly messy.

Finally, technique! I did take a look at your blog & the sgraffito project you mentioned & one thing I noticed was that your scratch marks were very deep and didn't reveal much clay under the scratched-away slip. This is an easy thing to have happen, especially if your slip/clay/both are still too wet or you're putting too much pressure on the carving tool.

My best tips for remedying this are:

Make sure the slip isn't at all tacky to the touch & that the clay underneath is leather hard.

Go very gently at first! It doesn't take much to scratch the slip away and you can always come back and take away more slip/make your carving area deeper if you want to, but you can't put the clay back!

Use the carving tools at an angle to the clay (somewhere around 45º ish, this is not a hard science), not perpendicular to it - this will stop you from stabbing straight down instead of scraping. If you've ever done linocut prints, think of the angle you hold the linocut tool at - sgraffito is generally a pulling-towards motion vs. a pushing away one for lino, but the angle is important either way!

Having even just a small variety of tools (eg. my core 4-5 as shown above) will also help, as you'll have options for line-weight/how much slip a tool takes off.

Phew! I sort of got carried away there, but I hope this was helpful?? If you have any more questions (or if anyone else does), please don't hesitate to ask! I'm still planning on making a proper sgraffito tutorial/series of tutorials, but need to find the time for all the filming/editing that requires.

#artblog #sgraffitoceramics #sgraffito #sgraffito technique #ask answered #ask

[bumblebeeappletree]

If you work with felt or wool or any other natural fibres, you may be wondering how you can dye them without introducing chemicals and difficult processes. Well, look no further than SOLAR DYEING!

Process:

- Pretreat fibre (aka mordant) with alum to make the color stick

- Put wet fibres in a sealable glass jar with fresh or dried plant material

- Leave in the sun for 2-3 weeks (depending on how much sun your jars get you can go shorter or longer!)

- Rinse out your fibres

Check out the video to see these plants in action:

- Marigold

- Red Clover

- Golden Rod

- Hibiscus

- Purple Loosestrife

- Curly Dock

- Red Hopi Amaranth

- Stinging Nettle

The results may just surprise you...!

Subscribe for new crafty videos every Wednesday!

► http://bit.ly/subdanodoesthings

Find more on Insta and tag me with #DanoDoesThings!

► Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/danodoesthi...

Welcome to Dano Does Things! A place to learn, have fun, and do something creative every week.

My name is Danielle or Dano for short. I am a thirty-one-year-old lady living in Canada who has a passion for creation. Every Wednesday, I tackle new arts and crafts projects, trying to learn and get better every time, while celebrating my mistakes and tackling challenges head-on.

Have an idea for something I should try next? Leave a comment or send me an e-mail! I'd be happy to hear from you.

► E-mail: [email protected]

Music

All music is from Epidemic Sound.

► So Dull - Smartface

► Bojack (Instrumental) - Pandaraps

#Dano Does Things #solarpunk #solar dye #natural dye #how to #how to dye #how to solar dye #diy #do it yourself #flowers #plants #marigold #red clover #golden rod #Hibiscus #Purple Loosestrife #Curly Dock #Red Hopi Amaranth #Stinging Nettle #Youtube

[daisyisnotaflower]

A list of TMA headcanons that came out of a recent brainrot session with my cousin

Jon used to wear glasses but no longer needs to after waking up from his coma

they're small, square, gold glasses. he doesn’t start out with a glasses chain, but gets one eventually because grandma core

Jon damaged his glasses at some point so he taped m up. Then the skin on his nose got irritated because he kept pushing them up

the event that damaged Jon’s glasses may have been: the worm attack (MAG 39), breaking into getrude's appartment or the not!Sasha attack (MAG 79)

in s1 Jon cleans his glasses very often. He always has the little cloth with him, at all times. He cannot stand dirt on the lenses, but maybe more so than that, he thinks it makes him appear put together, important, smart etc. he will often clean them while in conversation with his colleagues, as an attempt to show dominance.

Jon stops cleaning his glasses regularly in s2

Jon does not handle it well if you put them down on his desk wrong

Jon gets a haircut the day before he starts as head archivist and then never again.

somewhere in s3 Jon starts brushing his hair less and less. it gets matted

somewhere in s3 Georgie tried to teach Jon how to sew. he stabbed himself a thousand times and gave up

during Jon’s coma, Martin would often come by and detangle his hair for him. he is so gentle about it. it takes multiple sessions, but when he’s done, he braids it. it’s a fancy braid, too

Jon does not redo the braid, he keeps it as it is. it gets floofier over time, with more loose strands

s2 Jon, Martin and Sasha all regularly put their glasses on top of their head and then forget them, but Sasha especially

Tim’s vision is pretty bad but he refuses to get glasses

Sasha’s glasses are big, gold wire and either octagonal or heptagonal, but with rounded corners. they have the type of lenses that turn blue in sunlight, funky stuff. She has a glasses chain

Sasha knows how to sew, knit, crochet etc. she makes a lot of her own clothing.

Sasha keeps fabric scraps and makes patchwork clothing out of them.

Sasha has a jar of buttons on a shelf. or maybe it's an ordered box with compartments. if it's a box, she made it herself.

Sasha has a shelf full of crafting supplies.

Sasha has a garden where she grows vegetables and herbs

Sasha makes her own strawberry jam.

Sasha loves cooking

Gertrude has those tiny little glasses that pinch onto her nose. they’re oval and silver.

Getrude knows how to knit, but only does it when she wants to look like a harmless old lady.

Elias also does not need glasses, but he wears them to be smug.

Elias’ glasses are small, half moon shaped and gold, He has a glasses chain with little eyes at the ends. they may or may not be prescription. it does not matter to him

Martins glasses are big, round dark blue wire.

Martin has some plushies

Martin mends his own clothes because he doesn’t wanna waste them

Martin is pretty good at knitting and crochet

Melanie dyes her hair blue

in s4 Melanie’s hair dye is faded and starts to grow out.

Melanie wears contacts. They are prescription, but also might be coloured, maybe to work better with her hair.

Melanie stops wearing her contacts in s4, because they are too much work to keep up with and she is not going to leave the archives to replace them, that’s too dangerous. Her prescription is pretty low, so it’s manageable.

as Melanie gets more and more affected by the ghost bullet, her irises slowly start to turn red.

Malanie has sewed some patches to her clothing. she’s also dyed some of it.

Melanie likes to tie her shoelaces in fun ways. She looked up some tutorials online.

Georgie loves sewing while listening to podcasts. the podcasts are mainly about true crime, media and art, and some political stuff.

Basira wears reading glasses. they’re rectangular, black, plastic glasses. they’re pretty cheap, she doesn’t wanna waste money she on glasses she only wears sometimes

#tma #tma spoilers #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #melanie king #georgie barker #elias bouchard #gertrude robinson #basira hussain #tma headcanons #tma fandom #my posts

[iwaoiness]

Forever and again

It is when he thinks about it most that he least understands how the universe has allowed him to have Iwaizumi. They have always been together, his mother fondly keeps a photograph of Oikawa at six months old and Iwaizumi at seven, both sleeping soundly next to each other, their chubby little hands clasping. In all his memories there is Hajime, there is his laugh, his frown, his sleeping face, his dimples, his dull green eyes, his quiet voice, his sincere words. There is also what Oikawa has learned to relate with Iwa-chan, there is his childhood passion for insects, there is his hunting net, his jars to catch and then release because everyone has a place to be, there are his favourite sneakers, there are his Godzilla band-aids, there is the warmth of the summer sun, the sweetness of freshly cut watermelon, the tree house in the Iwaizumi's mountain residence, the apple scent of his shampoo.

There are many, thousands, millions more things. Some of them have remained, like the old hunting net, and some have changed, like the shape of his back.

Tooru remembers how thin it was under his patterned shirts, even though Iwaizumi was a little taller than him, and how comfortable it was when Iwa-chan carried him on when he sprained his ankle or scraped his knees or suffered one of his allergic reactions on his way home from his adventures on the hill. Hajime's back has always been safety and security, confidence and firmness, and over time it has become broader and more muscular, but without losing a drop of the essence that Tooru has grown up with.

And he likes it, he likes it so much. That's why he enjoys it when Iwaizumi takes his hand (as he's doing now) and laces his fingers between his naturally as if they were made for it, and then tugs his arm lovingly and leads the way. He enjoys it because he sees Hajime's back again, runs his form that he has well memorised in his mind and fingers under his black cotton shirt, sees the kanjis of the Aoba Johsai banner printed in black ink along the back of his neck, his cropped hair, the back ball of the industrial piercing through the cartilage of his ear.

Walking behind Hajime is not shameful, it is comforting and warm. Oikawa feels protected and loved, and his heart melts inside him when he thinks of every moment that Iwaizumi has shown him with actions —because that's what he is, a man of action rather than words— how much he loves him. Whether it's kissing him tenderly, combing his bangs, leaving milk bread and dorayakis on the kitchen counter, buying him that ridiculous strawberry-shaped bowl he once distractedly mentioned he liked, leaving notes for him around the flat ("don't forget breakfast, Shittykawa", "you're so beautiful, u know that?”, "don't forget you have an appointment to change your glasses prescription and we’ve dinner with our parents this monday", "I'm going to kick your fucking ass if you ever leave wet towels lying on the damn sofa again", "I love you so much", “don't let Makki dye his hair in our bathroom again”), photographing every article of clothing and shoe he stopped to look at every time they went shopping (believing Tooru didn't notice), covering the pointy end of any table with his hand when Oikawa bent down to pick up whatever he had dropped to prevent him from bumping it, always making sure he felt good when he showed the slightest grimace of discomfort, always seeking his opinion on any subject, always listening to even the most absurd complaints and ramblings.

Iwaizumi loves him so much and Oikawa loves Iwaizumi so much. He has loved him in every state of love, he has loved him as a friend, as family, as a partner, as a neighbour, as a boyfriend and he will also love him as a husband. Tooru loves him so much that it is overflowing, overwhelming, a tsunami of intensity that sweeps everything inside him until his heart aches and his eyes water.

He loves him so much he wants to cry.

In fact, he's going to cry.

Right now.

"Hajime" he murmurs giving his hand a gentle squeeze. His low, faint voice immediately alarming Iwaizumi who peeks his face over his shoulder, his thick eyebrows furrowing in concern, but Oikawa barely gives him time to open his mouth when he pulls his arm towards him and there, in the middle of the mall's subway parking garage, he wraps his arms around his neck, sinking his face into them.

The tension in Iwaizumi’s body is brief, Oikawa soon hears his snort and immediately feels an arm around his waist squeezing him against his body, and a large, warm hand stroking his back up and down, with the experience of someone who has been in his life since his first breath.

Tooru is where he wants to be and should be. Where his happiness is constant and his sadness subsides more easily, where anxiety is treated with gentleness and negative thoughts vanish with sincere words. Where love is pure and clean, where arguments last no more than three days (because despite being stubborn and wanting to be right, they both hate the emptiness left in bed when they are upset), where winter mornings are less torturous because there is a warm body by their side, where the summer sun is warmer than ever, where flowers in spring are more vivid, where hot chocolate in autumn tastes sweeter.

"Are you okay?" Iwaizumi asks softly, his warm lips caressing the skin of his cheek. "Don't tell me you're crying again because you love me too much."

Oikawa laughs, somewhat wetly and teasingly. This is also how it feels to love someone well and to have that someone not only know you so well but to feel so comfortable and confident that you bare yourself body and soul.

"No, I was thinking about the poor driver who parked his car next to Iwa-chan's."

"Oi, that time I broke the rearview mirror because the other driver parked like shit" He gently pinches his side, pulling an exaggerated yelp out of him.

"Mean, Iwa-chan" Oikawa whines with a pout, lifting his head and tilting it to the side when he finally meets Iwaizumi's eyes, which look at him with a love cultivated since decades as he wipes away a tear rolling lonely down his cheek with his thumb.

"Mean, Iwa-chan" he teases, sharpening his voice before laughing when Oikawa bites his cheek.

There's a press at his waist, a second-hand descending down his lower back.

"If we don't hurry, you'll go back to running out of that sweet milkshake bomb you pretend to like" He says, though he doesn't make the slightest move to break away, brushing his bangs away from Tooru's eyes.

"Show some respect for the cinnamon roll Frappuccino, Hajime" Croons as he sketches an amused curve to his lips "It's not my fault you have nefarious taste buds and are incapable of appreciating sweet."

"That's because I'm only loyal to one kind of sweet, Tooru" He replies, two shades lower and huskier, his eyes fixed on his before deliberately lowering them to Oikawa's pink lips.

Tooru's cheeks and ears redden, but he widens his smile, his hand fondly stroking the hair at the nape of Hajime's neck.

"Really, Iwa-chan? I wonder what kind of sweet you're so faithful to is."

"Mmh... He has cinnamon-coloured hair, honey-coloured eyes and a cherry-red nose" He replies and Oikawa blinks, really caught off guard, before laughing, his happy laughter echoing in the parking lot, his eyes narrowed into half-moons at his boyfriend's affectionate smile.

"I don't have a red nose!" he complains between belly laugh.

"Oh, it gets so red when you cry, my baby boy" Hajime teases, starting to spread kisses all over his face, all over his forehead, red nose, cheeks, eyelids, chin and finally his lips.

Oikawa smiles against Hajime’s mouth, cradling his face, his thumbs on either side of his strong jaw as he kisses him back, melting into those strong arms where he has grown and lived.

The place where Tooru is and will be, forever and again.

...

u can find this and other fics on my ao3 🌻

#iwaoi #haikyuu!! #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa x iwaizumi #haikyuu #hajime iwaizumi #bl boys #hq fluff #iwaizumi fluff #oikawa fluff #they are so in love #iwa has a tattoo #oikawa thinks about love #one shot #ao3 fanfic #soft and fluffy #childhood friends #established iwaoi #oikawa loves iwaizumi #so so so so so much #oikawa tōru

[kingstrawberry]

curls and cuddles

Tsukishima grows his hair out a little during their 2nd year and dyes the ends at the start of the summer between 2nd and 3rd year and Kageyama has a gay crisis.

He's so sure he’ll be over it when Tsukishima cuts the ends off before 3rd year starts, but he still feels the same way. He has this weird empty feeling after meeting up with Yamaguchi to strategize.

Tsukishima always hangs back to walk home with Yamaguchi, and Kageyama always watches them leave.

With Tsukishima in his hair experimentation era, there is a krsn5 sleepover night where Yachi convinces Tsukishima to let her straighten his hair.

At this point, Kageyama is pretty sure what his feelings for Tsukishima are, which only makes it worse.

Tsukishima is sitting on the edge of Yachi’s bathtub while she stands in front of him with the smallest hair straightener Kageyama's ever seen.

Yamaguchi and Hinata are… somewhere, unbothered, disinterested. If Kageyama could hear anything other than the click and hum of the straightener and Tsukishima’s quiet questions he might realize they're watching a loud action movie in the living room.

Somehow Tsukishima's surprisingly gentle “This won't burn me right?” rings clear in Kageyama's ears over the excessive explosions and yelling from the other room.

Yachi says something that Kageyama can't really hear, but Tsukishima looks relieved so he guesses it was good. She says something else and he smiles at her, a genuine smile that spreads across his face, a rare sight that’s already burying itself in Kageyama's memory by the time it turns into a laugh.

She asks something, he nods and suddenly he’s taking his glasses off. He stretches back and Kageyama stares at a bead of sweat that goes from his ear down his jawline.

The hum in Kageyama's ears gets louder.

Yachi turns to put his glasses on the counter, which is when she spots Kageyama. She gasps exaggeratedly and says no one can see Tsukishima until his hair is done.

Tsukishima sits up, looks around Yachi and sees Kageyama sitting at the table. He sticks his tongue out at him. Tsukishima’s whole mouth is stupidly pink from the strawberry candy Yachi bribed him with.

Kageyama wants to punch him.

Kageyama wants to kiss him.

Yachi closes the bathroom door.

The lock clicks, freeing Kageyama from whatever spell Tsukishima seems to have him under, Kageyama sighs, slumping into the table and closing his eyes. His stomach churns.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting there when the door opens again. He only catches a glance at Tsukishima before it closes behind Yachi. Tsukishima has bangs, somehow. They’re clunky and uneven and Kageyama should think they’re ugly. But they aren’t. (He shouldn't feel this way about Tsukishima. But he does.)

——

“Did you bring the cream?” Yachi asks Yamaguchi as she walks into the living room with a fine tooth comb in her hand.

Yamaguchi nods. He gets up to grab it from his bag as Hinata asks “Styling cream?”

“For Tsukishima-kun’s hair,” Yachi answers.

Hinata frowns, tilting his head. “You planned this in advance?”

Yamaguchi nods, standing up with the jar in his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks!” Yachi says as she takes it from him.

She’s about to leave when Hinata grabs her wrist. “Explain.”

“Explain what?”

“What you’re doing,” Hinata says with a pointed look at Kageyama, who’s back to being slumped on the table now that the door is closed again.

Yamaguchi and Yachi lock eyes. Yachi’s lips turn into a thin line and Yamaguchi glances at Hinata with a frown.

Seemingly understanding something Hinata can’t see, Yachi uses the handle of the thin comb to jab Hinata’s hand, freeing herself and running off.

“What the hell!” Hinata would chase her but the door is locked again in the blink of an eye. “What are you two doing?!?!” He’s yelling but he sinks back into the couch, rubbing the sore part of his hand with a pout.

Yamaguchi shrugs. “I think you know.”

They both look between Kageyama and the locked door.

“Maybe,” Hinata grumbles as he refocuses on his hand.

——

Kageyama is still sulking over all this when Yachi pops out of the bathroom again. She stands in the doorframe and somehow Kageyama can’t see Tsukishima at all. “Time for the grand reveal!” she shouts, cheerily clapping her hands together. “go to the living room!”

So Kageyama does. His ears are still buzzing even though the straightener is definitely off. He can hear two pairs of footsteps behind him, but he has a feeling if he tries to turn around Yachi will knock his knees out from under him.

“Close your eyes!” she shouts as Kageyama enters the living room. Yamaguchi and Hinata both listen, and in his nerves Kageyama does too. He stumbles into the couch, falling into Hinata, who shoves him away.

“No fighting with your eyes closed!” Tsukishima scolds, though its pretty clear he’s trying not to laugh.

“Open them!” Yachi says a few moments later, once Kageyama is finally settled. Tsukishima’s hair is parted over his eye and brushed back. It would be formal aside from the ends, which still curve forward, not fully straightened but held in place with cream.

“Wow! You look great, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi says as Yachi sits next to him.

“Shut up Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima replies, though his cheeks turn pink.

Before Yamaguchi can apologize, Hinata blurts “You look so different!”

“I feel like I need a haircut,” Tsukishima says drily, but the smallest smile makes its way onto his face. Kageyama can see it clearly.

Hinata snaps his fingers. “That’s it! It’s longer!”

Yachi snorts.

“That happens when you straighten it,” Yamaguchi says.

“You should straighten Yamaguchi’s hair!” Hinata shouts.

“It’s already straight,” Yachi says with a slight tilt of her head.

“How about yours?” Yamaguchi says, running a hand over Hinata's head, flattening his hair down and laughing when it springs back up immediately.

“We totally could! but,” Yachi turns to Yamaguchi with puppy eyes. “Hinata's hair is too long for me to style well.”

“D’you want me to help?”

“Hey! Why can’t I style it?” Hinata protests.

Yamaguchi elbows him.

Hinatas eyes widen. “Hine,” he grumbles. “Please help me, Yamaguchi.”

“sure!” Yamaguchi says brightly. The three of them disappear.

By the time Kageyama realizes what just happened, Tsukishima is sitting next to him, /Too close./

“Well?”

Kageyama just stares.

Tsukishima huffs. “No comment from the king?” he jokes as he turns the TV back on. “Figures.”

“You look-“

Tsukishima looks at him out of the corner of his eye and Kageyama freezes, tongue feeling like lead in his mouth. “You-“

“Take your time,” Tsukishima says, muting the TV. His voice is flat but he’s smirking. He doesn't look malicious though, just amused. Kageyama blames the sudden glow Tsukishima seems to have on the new hair.

Kageyama closes his eyes again. “You look really nice.”

No response. /Huh?/ There’s no TV noise either.

Kageyama opens one eye, slamming it shut when he sees Tsukishima looking at him with parted lips.

“Seriously?”

“Huh?” Kageyama’s eyes open without him thinking.

Tsukishima shrugs, turning back to the TV. “I thought with all the staring you did before you’d have more to say.”

Kageyama does some more staring, now at a small lock of hair that curls above Tsukishima’s ear. He wants to reach out and pinch it between his fingers. “The bangs looked stupid.”

Tsukishima turns so fast Kageyama is surprised his glasses stay on. “what?”

“The bangs you had before it was styled. They looked stupid. It's much better now.”

Tsukishima shoves him, but they're both smiling. “You’re the worst.”

“I just complimented you!”

And that gets Tsukishima to laugh. Eyes closed, big gummy smile, ugly laugh. It’s beautiful. It makes Kageyama laugh too.

“I guess you did,” Tsukishima replies once he finally calms down. “Thanks, king.”

There’s a shout of “close your eyes!” before Kageyama can reply.

So they do. And when they open them Hinata looks really different too. He looks good, but it doesn’t make Kageyama’s stomach flip.

“Who are you and what did you do to Hinata?” Tsukishima jokes.

Hinata manages a horrified face. “How did you know i’ve been replaced?”

Yachi makes a spooky ghost noise and Tsukishima laughs again. It's quieter this time, but Kageyama can’t help the grin on his face.

Yamaguchi and Hinata lock eyes.

‘You know now?’ Yamaguchi mouths at him.

Hinata nods.

——

The next morning Kageyama wakes up to some clanging in the kitchen. “We’re fine!” Yamaguchi shouts.

If Kageyama was more than half awake, he’d go help his friends. As is, his mind has decided to focus all of his attention on the blond asleep next to him.

/It’s curly again,/ he thinks.

Apparently that’s the only thought Kageyama is capable of because the next thing he knows, Tsukishima has grabbed his wrist. It might be his fault for reaching out and running his fingers through Tsukishima’s hair, but how the hell is Tsukishima doing this without waking up?

Kageyama sits up to try to slip his arm out of Tsukishima’s grip, but he’s holding on tight.

Tsukishima pushes Kageyama’s hand away.

Kageyama’s heart rate drops the slightest bit, only to double when he realizes Tsukishima isnt letting go.

The sleeping Tsukishima pulls Kageyama’s hand next to his head and nuzzles his cheek into it. He finally lets go, but there's no way Kageyama can free himself now (read: it would be very easy but he doesn’t want to). He lays back down carefully, doing his best to keep his arm still.

Kageyama does well. Tsukishima doesn’t wake up, but he’s much more of a nuisance asleep than he is when he’s awake. The sleeping Tsukishima seems to have a Kageyama-related sixth sense, because when Kageyama settles back into the blankets Tsukishima gets closer, a lot closer. he rolls in so his head rests on Kageyama’s upper arm, and he pulls Kageyama’s blanket onto himself, forcing Kageyama to come closer or freeze.

Kageyama finds that he doesn’t mind.

Tsukishima frowns in his sleep, putting a hand on Kageyama's shoulder like he’s looking for something.

Kageyama puts his free hand on Tsukishima’s cheek.

Tsukishima’s face relaxes.

Kageyama’s heart finally settles. He knows he can never have Tsukishima but he figures having this moment is more than okay. His eyelids feel heavy. He falls asleep with his fingertips brushing against blond curls.

End

CONTEXT: Kageyama is under the impression that tkym are together. (They aren’t.)

#haikyuu!! #kageyama tobio #tsukishima kei #kageyama #tsukishima #tsukikage #tkkg #kagetsuki #kgtsk #haikyuu #hinata shoyo #yamaguchi tadashi #hinata #yachi hitoka #yachi #yamaguchi

[azure-cherie]

Sylvia Plath for each zodiac

All rights reserved to Sylvia Plath

Aries

Burning the Letters

I made a fire; being tired Of the white fists of old Letters and their death rattle When I came too close to the wastebasket. What did they know that I didn’t ? Grain by grain, they unrolled Sands where a dream of clear water Grinned like a getaway car. I am not subtle Love, love, and well, I was tired Of cardboard cartons the color of cement or a dog pack Holding in its hate Dully, under a pack of men in red jackets, And the eyes and times of the postmarks. This fire may lick and fawn, but it is merciless: A glass case My fingers would enter although They melt and sag, they are told Do not touch. And here is an end to the writing, The spry hooks that bend and cringe, and the smiles, the smiles. And at least it will be a good place now, the attic. At least I won’t be strung just under the surface, Dumb fish With one tin eye, Watching for glints, Riding my Arctic Between this wish and that wish.

This fire may lick and fawn, but it is merciless: A glass case My fingers would enter although They melt and sag, they are told Do not touch. And here is an end to the writing, The spry hooks that bend and cringe, and the smiles, the smiles. And at least it will be a good place now, the attic. At least I won’t be strung just under the surface, Dumb fish With one tin eye, Watching for glints, Riding my Arctic Between this wish and that wish.

So I poke at the carbon birds in my housedress. They are more beautiful than my bodiless owl, They console me — Rising and flying, but blinded. They would flutter off, black and glittering, they would be coal angels Only they have nothing to say to anybody. I have seen to that. With the butt of a rake I flake up papers that breathe like people, I fan them out Between the yellow lettuces and the German cabbage Involved in its weird blue dreams, Involved as a foetus. And a name with black edges.

Wilts at my foot, Sinuous orchis In a nest of root-hairs and boredom — Pale eyes, patent-leather gutturals! Warm rain greases my hair, extinguishes nothing. My veins glow like trees. The dogs are tearing a fox. This is what it is like — A red burst and a cry That splits from its ripped bag and does not stop With the dead eye And the stuffed expression, but goes on Dyeing the air, Telling the particles of the clouds, the leaves, the water What immortality is. That it is immortal.

Taurus

Rhyme

I’ve got a stubborn goose whose gut’s Honeycombed with golden eggs, Yet won’t lay one. She, addled in her goose-wit, struts The barnyard like those taloned hags Who ogle men

And crimp their wrinkles in a grin, Jangling their great money bags. While I eat grits She fattens on the finest grain. Now, as I hone my knife, she begs Pardon, and that’s

So humbly done, I’d turn this keen Steel on myself before profit By such a rogue’s Act, but—how those feathers shine!Exit from a smoking slit Her ruby dregs.

Gemini

Two Views of a Cadaver Room

(1)

The day she visited the dissecting room They had four men laid out, black as burnt turkey, Already half unstrung. A vinegary fume Of the death vats clung to them; The white-smocked boys started working. The head of his cadaver had caved in, And she could scarcely make out anything In that rubble of skull plates and old leather. A sallow piece of string held it together.

In their jars the snail-nosed babies moon and glow. He hands her the cut-out heart like a cracked heirloom.

(2)

In Brueghel’s panorama of smoke and slaughter Two people only are blind to the carrion army: He, afloat in the sea of her blue satin Skirts, sings in the direction Of her bare shoulder, while she bends, Fingering a leaflet of music, over him, Both of them deaf to the fiddle in the hands Of the death’s-head shadowing their song. These Flemish lovers flourish; not for long.

Yet desolation, stalled in paint, spares the little country Foolish, delicate, in the lower right hand corner.

Cancer

The Everlasting Monday

Thou shalt have an everlasting Monday and stand in the moon.

The moon’s man stands in his shell, Bent under a bundle Of sticks. The light falls chalk and cold Upon our bedspread. His teeth are chattering among the leprous Peaks and craters of those extinct volcanoes.

He also against black frost Would pick sticks, would not rest Until his own lit room outshone Sunday’s ghost of sun; Now works his hell of Mondays in the moon’s ball, Fireless, seven chill seas chained to his ankle.

Leo

By Candlelight

This is winter, this is night, small love— A sort of black horsehair, A rough, dumb country stuff Steeled with the sheen Of what green stars can make it to our gate. I hold you on my arm. It is very late. The dull bells tongue the hour. The mirror floats us at one candle power.

This is the fluid in which we meet each other, This haloey radiance that seems to breathe And lets our shadows wither Only to blow Them huge again, violent giants on the wall. One match scratch makes you real. At first the candle will not bloom at all — It snuffs its bud To almost nothing, to a dull blue dud.

I hold my breath until you creak to life, Balled hedgehog, Small and cross. The yellow knife Grows tall. You clutch your bars. My singing makes you roar. I rock you like a boat Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor, While the brass man Kneels, back bent, as best he can

Hefting his white pillar with the light That keeps the sky at bay, The sack of black! It is everywhere, tight, tight! He is yours, the little brassy Atlas — Poor heirloom, all you have, At his heels a pile of five brass cannonballs, No child, no wife. Five balls! Five bright brass balls! To juggle with, my love, when the sky falls.

Virgo

Virgin in a tree

How this tart fable instructsAnd mocks! Here's the parody of that moral mousetrapSet in the proverbs stitched on samplersApproving chased girls who get them to a treeAnd put on bark's nun-black

Habit which deflects All amorous arrows. For to sheathe the virgin shapeIn a scabbard of wood baffles pursuers,Whether goat-thighed or god-haloed. Ever since that first DaphneSwitched her incomparable back

For a bay-tree hide, respect'sTwined to her hard limbs like ivy: the puritan lipCries: 'Celebrate Syrinx whose demursWon her the frog-colored skin, pale pith and wateryBed of a reed. Look:

Pine-needle armor protectsPitys from Pan's assault! And though age drop Their leafy crowns, their fame soars,Eclipsing Eva, Cleo and Helen of Troy:For which of those would speak

For a fashion that constrictsWhite bodies in a wooden girdle, root to topUnfaced, unformed, the nipple-flowersShrouded to suckle darkness? Only theyWho keep cool and holy make

A sanctum to attract Green virgins, consecrating limb and lipTo chastity's service: like prophets, like preachers,They descant on the serene and seraphic beautyOf virgins for virginity's sake.'

Be certain some such pact'sBeen struck to keep all glory in the gripOf ugly spinsters and barren sirsAs you etch on the inner window of your eyeThis virgin on her rack:

She, ripe and unplucked, 'sLain splayed too long in the tortuous boughs: overripeNow, dour-faced, her fingers Stiff as twigs, her body woodenly Askew, she'll ache and wake

Though doomsday bud. Neglect'sGiven her lips that lemon-tasting droop:Untongued, all beauty's bright juice sours.Tree-twist will ape this gross anatomyTill irony's bough break.

Libra

Epitaph for Fire and Flower

You might as well haul up This wave’s green peak on wire To prevent fall, or anchor the fluent air In quartz, as crack your skull to keep These two most perishable lovers from the touch That will kindle angels’ envy, scorch and drop Their fond hearts charred as any match.

Seek no stony camera-eye to fix The passing dazzle of each face In black and white, or put on ice Mouth’s instant flare for future looks; Stars shoot their petals, and suns run to seed, However you may sweat to hold such darling wrecks Hived like honey in your head.

Hatched with a claret hogshead to swig He kings it, navel-knit to no groan, But at the price of a pin-stitched skin Fish-tailed girls purchase each white leg.

Mouth’s instant flare for future looks; Stars shoot their petals, and suns run to seed, However you may sweat to hold such darling wrecks Hived like honey in your head.

Now in the crux of their vows hang your ear, Still as a shell: hear what an age of glass These lovers prophesy to lock embrace Secure in museum diamond for the stare Of astounded generations; they wrestle To conquer cinder’s kingdom in the stroke of an hour And hoard faith safe in a fossil.

But though they’d rivet sinews in rock And have every weathercock kiss hang fire As if to outflame a phoenix, the moment’s spur Drives nimble blood too quick For a wish to tether: they ride nightlong In their heartbeats’ blazing wake until red cock Plucks bare that comet’s flowering.

Dawn snuffs out star’s spent wick, Even as love’s dear fools cry evergreen, And a languor of wax congeals the vein No matter how fiercely lit; staunch contracts break And recoil in the altering light: the radiant limb Blows ash in each lover’s eye; the ardent look Blackens flesh to bone and devours them.

Scorpio

November Graveyard

The scene stands stubborn: skinflint trees Hoard last year’s leaves, won’t mourn, wear sackcloth, or turn To elegiac dryads, and dour grass Guards the hard-hearted emerald of its grassiness However the grandiloquent mind may scorn Such poverty. No dead men’s cries

Flower forget-me-nots between the stones Paving this grave ground. Here’s honest rot To unpick the heart, pare bone Free of the Fictive vein. When one stark skeleton Bulks real, all saints’ tongues fall quiet: Flies watch no resurrections in the sun.

At the essential landscape stare, stare Till your eyes foist a vision dazzling on the wind: Whatever lost ghosts flare, Damned, howling in their shrouds across the moor Rave on the leash of the starving mind Which peoples the bare room, the blank, untenanted air.

Saggitarius

Maenad

Once I was ordinary: Sat by my father’s bean tree Eating the fingers of wisdom. The birds made milk. When it thundered I hid under a flat stone.

The mother of mouths didn’t love me. The old man shrank to a doll. O I am too big to go backward: Birdmilk is feathers, The bean leaves are dumb as hands.

This month is fit for little. The dead ripen in the grapeleaves. A red tongue is among us. Mother, keep out of my barnyard, I am becoming another.

Dog-head, devourer: Feed me the berries of dark. The lids won’t shut. Time Unwinds from the great umbilicus of the sun Its endless glitter.

I must swallow it all.

Lady, who are these others in the moon’s vat— Sleepdrunk, their limbs at odds? In this light the blood is black. Tell me my name.

Capricorn

Recantation

‘Tea leaves I’ve given up, And that crooked line On the queen’s palm Is no more my concern. On my black pilgrimage This moon-pocked crystal ball Will break before it help; Rather than croak out What’s to come, My darling ravens are flown.

‘Forswear those freezing tricks of sight And all else I’ve taught Against the flower in the blood: Not wealth nor wisdom stands Above the simple vein, The straight mouth. Go to your greenhorn youth Before time ends And do good With your white hands.’

Aquarius

Insomniac

The night sky is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars Letting in the light, peephole after peephole — A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things. Under the eyes of the stars and the moon’s rictus He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.

Over and over the old, granular movie Exposes embarrassments—the mizzling days Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams, Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful, A garden of buggy roses that made him cry. His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks. Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue— How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening! Those sugary planets whose influence won for him A life baptized in no-life for a while, And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby. Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods. Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of gray mirrors. Each gesture flees immediately down an alley Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance Drains like water out the hole at the far end. He lives without privacy in a lidless room, The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments. Already he can feel daylight, his white disease, Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions. The city is a map of cheerful twitters now, And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank, Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.

Pisces

The Sleepers

No map traces the street Where those two sleepers are. We have lost track of it. They lie as if under water In a blue, unchanging light, The French window ajar

Curtained with yellow lace. Through the narrow crack Odors of wet earth rise. The snail leaves a silver track; Dark thickets hedge the house. We take a backward look.

Among petals pale as death And leaves steadfast in shape They sleep on, mouth to mouth. A white mist is going up. The small green nostrils breathe, And they turn in their sleep.

Ousted from that warm bed We are a dream they dream. Their eyelids keep the shade. No harm can come to them. We cast our skins and slide Into another time.

Thank you 💕

#sylvia plath #sylvia plath poem #zodiac #astro community #astrology #aries zodiac #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #saggitarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

[beautyandhealthtips123]

Clear Glass Jars on White Wooden Shelf

For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong. See more...

#clear glass jars #glass jars #how to clean glass jars #glass #clear glass cookie jars #glass jar #best easiest ways to clean glass jars #how to paint a glass jar #recycled glass jars #fillers for glass jars #sealing clear glass #tinted glass jars #glass jars crafts #paint glass jar #how to dye glass jars #how to tint glass jars #store food glass jars #decoupage glass jars #sea glass #15 awesome fillers for glass jars #how to clean glass #painting a glass jar

[cor-lapis-candy]

Did you know the crusty men posts outside of childe is run by Australians? Cause I do and now you will too.

But anyway, we have crusty shut in sweat master Scaramouche and hentai addict childe but now let us turn our thoughts to Venti and how we can cruchify this man!

A CW for the mention of alcohol.

Venti who has wine bottles and small single serve hard liquor bottles across his room, some empty and used for little art projects and other half to two thirds full just waiting for him to snag the neck and swing the warm liquid down, and sure there is a suspicious jar with Orange slices in it that looks to be bubbling on his windowsill but that's nothing to be worried about, just a little side project for when his money for booze runs out in like a weeks time!

Unlike the others he hangs around with form time to time, Venti is very much down for caring for his hair, making sure his dye doesn't fade, his braids stay tight and perfect, pins to keep his baret on, if it involves his hair on his head he will do it. Oils, masks, deep conditioning, you name it he dose it, but other hair? Nope, not a care in the world, he knows it's a bit much but he has dyed his pits before, even his pubes once and the colour was still there, tainting the ends of his hair the same cyan as his braids are.

Sure he bathes for his hair, but he has the most basic ass bar of soap, that's more sandpaper than scent at this point, too tainted by the sheer amount of sweat and other fluids it has been used to clean away. If you catch him at the start of the day he smells normal kinda soft and mostly of his shampoo but any later than 1pm and it's tangy sweat and the smell of hair dye when fresh, as if the cyan was sweating from his hair too.

Sure Venti has had partners, one night stands and such none of them hangings round very long as after a while some more... Serious insecurities start to show, needs for constant validation and touch, years on days when he can't find you for longer than a moment and a few awkward moments when it's another person's name he calls when you sleep next too each other.

And sure he gets invited to parties cause he always has something to drink and he's good with his guitar for when people rove outside or if they do bonfire nights but otherwise it's him, his wine and a very particular reel of photos on his phone.

Each and every one of his flings has looked the same, shared the same features and manners, all the same as you, precious, wonderful, you, his muse and fleeting adoration.

He has dreams of days when you would be kneeling on the floor of his room, coloured specks from his wine bottles making you look like a stained glass saint in a church in some far forgotten corner of the world, looking down as you bury your face in his crotch before pressing your lips to his cock, smiling up at him as you find yourself looking up at him over wiry hair and the stuttering rise and fall of his chest.

The mess of his sweat and cum that he could leave on you would be euphoric, marking you to the extent that you would smell just like him, maybe even fall to the depths that he has, running your fingers all along his frame and making sure that all the two of you are is entwined and made more in those moments.

And yet when he wakes tomorrow, hungover and cranky at the mid-day art class he has to attend, perhaps you will be at this one today, maybe you'll sit next to him and quip about how he looks like death warmed up again, maybe you'll even touch him...

(Shout out to @albedosarmpit for the ideas of venti being a bush master and loves to rock the free styles of vintage porn stars)

#cw: alcohol #venti smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #corposting

[nikholascrow]

okay I've been reading all your hcs and they're SO GOOD so I was wondering if you could do some about Xenophilius because I LOVE HIM but he's rarely talked about

aw i’m glad you like them!!

this one might be a shorter than usual because i have very few Xenophilius hcs but i’ll do my best!

if you like this check out the others

James Regulus Peter Marlene Evan

okay Xenophilius hc!!

feel like hes pan and poly

definitely ate dirt or rocks as a child

has like 30+ house plants

he gives me good friend bad dad vibes like he’s a good person and he’s very sweet but he just doesn’t know how to be a father

man wears muggle Hawaiian shirts everywhere

makes an amazing cup of tea

he kinda feels like he has a couple sisters and he’s the oldest

really great at doing hair and braids the first years’ hair all the time

i feel like hes really popular with the younger students but the ones his age just think he’s weird

wears lots of jewelry all for various reasons

I feel like he was a prefect

definitely collected bugs and butterflies as a kid

kinda bad with emotions he’s doing his best and he’s really sweet he just doesn’t really understand them (im projecting)

also feel like he doesn’t really pick up on social cues very well (im projecting again)

gives very good hugs

collects things people would usually consider unless like bottle caps bits of ribbon and stuff

absolutely hoards glass jars this man has never thrown one away in his life

lowkey really smart but people think he’s stupid because they find his beliefs weird

owns at least one pair of crocs probably the rainbow tie-dye ones

that’s pretty much all i got for him cause i don’t know him super well i’m sorry it’s kinda short <3

if you have any characters you’d like me to do next feel free to leave an ask i love doing these!

#xenophilius lovegood #dead gay wizards #marauders #harry potter #harry potter marauders #xenophilius #nikos marauders hcs #fuck jkr #niko answers

[wishful-seeker]

MAKING AN APOLLO CANDLE TO CELEBRATE GETTING DIAGNOSED

You will need:

Wax

Silicone mold or glass jar

A wick (look up how to make one)

A pot to melt wax in

Yellow candle dye- to represent Apollo and the sun

Herbs that are associated with Apollo, health, victory, and prosperity:

Calendula

Orange

Lemon

Anise

Sage

Citrine crystal

Honey for anointing

Making the candle:

Put the pot on your stove with your wax inside and put on low heat. When melted add your dye with intention. Stir your wax counter clockwise to banish if you want, or clockwise to summon. I summoned happiness and good health.

Take your wick and wrap it around a tooth pick and lay it across your jar or mold so the bottom of the wick is touching the bottom of your jar or mold. Remove toothpick and wick and set aside.

Pour most of the wax in your jar or mold leaving a small bit in the pot. Place toothpick with wick into the wax mold. Let cool for at least 30 minutes or until the top of the candle is solid.

Come back and place your herbs and crystal on top of your candle, charging them with your intention as you begin to melt your remaining wax on the stove.

Gently pour the remaining wax on top of your candle partly covering your ingredients and securing them in place. Let candle cool for at least an hour.

After your candle is finished you can carve a sigil into it and anoint it with honey before burning!

This candle is meant to honor Apollo and honor myself for the hard work i put in into getting diagnosed and bettering my health.

#witchcraft #witchblr #witchy #spell candle #apollo

[weabooweedwitch]

My sister is becoming such a hardcore alcoholic she's developing medical issues and doing brainless concerning really dirty nasty gross shit. the other week she found a random broken glass jar of pickles outside and literally brought it into our apartment to put the BROKEN GLASS in OUR KITCHEN SINK and. She ate the pickles she had no idea were out there for long or where they came from

It's after 2 in the morning on a weeknight in an apartment building and she has been continuously on and off the phone in our living room so drunk she's audibly burping and hooting and hollering and GASPING at like the top of her lungs and is continuously talking about me because she is trying to start a fight

Like literally actually not even a lie picture this: a woman who is 28 yeara old saying that she doesn't wash her hair because she dyes it (blue by the way, big shock there), so it is constantly visibly oily and greasy and literally leaving musty smells on the pillows she sleeps on. this woman then comes into the room where you are in and haven't spoken to her, haven't acknowledged her, and are clearly trying to avoid her and the person you are with is also avoiding her, and she's coming in not even needing anything, literally just coming in to tell you you're greasy because she has a disorder thar causes her to seek conflict and actually start fights where more people would walk away

Like literally actually she would be a small child and would go up to a grown alcoholic man who was known to have a violent temper and have an attitude directly to his face even knowing he hurt our mom because she literally WANTS to fight and she can't control it and actually it would be really sad if she didn't act like a white trash monster all the time

On Christmas she went to a bar and called my mom at like THREE IN THE MORNING to pick her up and a cop told my mom that a gas station attendant called 911 because she was so fucking drunk they were concerned and if my mom hadn't been able to come get her my sister would have been charged with a drunken disorderly, and if you ask her about it SHE JUST LIES, as if my mom wasn't directly told by a police officer what happened

It's just. It's so fucking hard because you have someone literally starting fights with you, like literally actually she got her feelings hurt and lunged at me and I had to defend myself and now she cries that I attacked her. I said something to hurt her feelings and she chased after me with a solid glass vodka bottle and was beating on my bedroom door screaming in rage while mom watched horrified. My mom and I are scared of her insane alcoholic mood swings and we want her to move out and we want to never hear from her again because all we hear from her is the same old story we've heard her entire life: Emily is getting drunk and emotional and constantly causing herself severe, significant problems

I have to keep working to help support my mom in case we get evicted because of, I don't even want to call her my sister anymore, but it's hard when she literally goes out of her way to try and run both of us down. Our mom is almost 60 with chronic physical pain and this loser will literally bully her for weed she doesn't even need, like literally actually waking her up for it. There's only a 20 pound difference between us and she acts like I'm over 500 pounds when she is the one who is binging so excessively when drunk that we started deliberately limiting the amount of food in the house and she just thinks we're being lazy and not going grocery shopping but it's because of her

We just want her to leave but she doesn't even realize how much money it would take to get her out of here so she's just terrorizing the entire building in the meantime. and the saddest thing is my father literally doesn't even care because my mom told me he actually never even wanted kids to begin with and it explains SO much about his behavior. He heard my sister and I gad a physical fight and he literally didn't even care, he just said we knew what my sister was like before we brought her here and we got what we asked for.

I guess we did? Because as sad as it is to say, she's literally the exact same as she was when she moved away from us over 10 years ago and we had just been expecting her to have grown up in all these years, and me and mom have realized the reason she even moved away was ultimately because she wanted to run away and do whatever she wanted and has been spiraling ever since

It's just sad. I'm still trying to cut her out of my heart because it only gets worse from here. If she doesn't get treatment she isn't going to survive and she doesn't want treatment and she doesn't want to survive either. And I have to keep telling myself and my mom.... that unfortunately there's nothing we can do about that. And it's hard.

#family woes. my mom and i are losing sleep. we are trying to explore our options if she needs to be removed #to be blunt she would have been involuntary hospitalized if that was a power we had over her #she acts literally unhinged and its sad and im glad grandma isnt around to see her like this #me and mom have been wanting to go to al anon meetings

[katyspersonal]

*kicks in the door*

KATY!!!!!!!!!!!!! I COME TO GIVE YOU ASKS ABOUT YURIE!!!

1) What would their social media page/activity be like

4) Physical headcanons (sleeping habits, favourite food, all that)

8) Made-up connections with other characters that weren't in the canon (friends, enemies, whatever)

9) Headcanons about their past

Have a good one!!!

YOOOOOOO! I didn't expect this!! Finally, a chance to talk about her! (Also, a small bit ahead - I tend to call her Julie instead (Czech variant of Julia), as it is a more proper translation of her name, and I use Yurie sometimes for ease of a communication. There used to be a post by Saintmic about names but TLDR; the エ (ye) in her name ユリエ (yu-ri-ye) is not silent, and it is a different name than the existing Japanese name Yuri (ユリ or sometimes ゆり).. Besides, Soulsborne games always have a character with a variant of this name (such as Zullie, Yulia or Yuria/Julia))

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

1) What would their social media page/activity be like

Hahaha... I imagine her as being someone whose page is mostly reblogs. 90% of them are from Willem x) But really, though. She would often not find what to say by herself, but would share some based takes - criticisms of modern culture, spreading awareness of some interesting statistics, journal articles that are based on cold and hard facts without any propaganda (good OR bad)... Her personal posts are rare and are either pictures + texts about something from her ordinary life, or vents. However, she'd constantly get the "DELETE THIS" DMs from Laurence (for reblogging some statistic about "effectiveness" of the Healing Church's procedures). Surprisingly, Willem himself never gets any flack despite being the OP of the posts she reblogs to begin with xD

4) Physical headcanons (sleeping habits, favourite food, all that)

Julie normally prepares her breakfast, lunch and dinner in advance, just so she would not have to get distracted from routine work (that tends to occupy her strongly). She cannot care less about her food being cold or even getting stale for that matter. But she behaves differently during her time of caring about Rom as a human; Rom tends to forget to eat as well, and for HER Julie is willing to make sure the food is fresh from the oven and is in its best quality.

She ends up chugging too much blue elixirs later in her story, exactly for the side-effect they are giving - to numb her brain. Julie never had a drinking problem prior - be it the holy blood, the sedatives, the blue elixirs or even actual alcohol, but she got a chance to drink with Fauxsefka a little too often and developed the habit very soon.

All her character sliders have the number at 0 except for arms that has 130 (middle), soooo. Her strongest part is her arms - not too muscular, but strong. If she ever must fight without weapon, she will exclusively fist-fight (or hit one's vulnerable spots, should they lack enough armour). Her punches are not strong (her STR is only 13), but she knows where and how to punch for maximally damaging effect (SKL is 33).

I used to think that she was bald for the same reason as Willem and Slime Scholars (so, Arcane?), but hair falling out from Arcane would not explain her notably bushy EYEBROWS, so I ended up deciding she does have hair tucked under that cap. I also decided to bridge the gap with learning about her NPC data colors too late by having her dye her hair brown or black-ish sometimes. Even prior that, I've had a running gag with drawing her with different hairstyle every single time, but by now she developed more tomboyish look in my interpretation!

She has an eagle sharp eyesight, is able to effortlessly read the tiniest letters without magnifying glass, or even looking in too close, for that matter. Others joke that she developed it by working with literal eyes too much; most of the jars with eyeballs were prepared and preserved by her!

8) Made-up connections with other characters that weren't in the canon (friends, enemies, whatever)

Damian: Fun fact, him and Julie were my next ship after Micorom (before I made Rom Mico's sister instead)! I've noticed that both her and Damian qualify as "failed" members of their respective factions and it snowballed... xD Since then a lot of headcanons were rearranged, but I still enjoy the idea of them as a ship! However, by now them just being close friends works better; Julie is Rom's caretaker, no dissimilar to how Damian basically became Micolash's "butler" before he noticed, so the two are a bit too attached to their (slightly crazy) blorbos to devote to significant romantic relationship otherwise. But, Damian and Julie always had a lot to talk about, and always were the most responsible people in Byrgenwerth (the type to always volunteer to clean the classroom after lessons, to decorate everything for the holidays, etc etc...).

Towards the game events they do become enemies though, as Damian has to face it that Rom has to die for at least a chance of stopping Mensis ritual, and Julie won't have that. It would further wreck him, of course, as he just keeps losing the scholars that were close to him.. but let's hope that the good ol' 'nobody REALLY can die in Bloodborne' works hahaha. ALSO! When I explored the idea of lucky charms to block out the 'evil' telepathy, I had Damian to wear a silver bell tied with Julie's trademark blue ribbon; she gifted it to him upon their parting!

Fauxsefka: They have had a lot of tension between each other ever since being Byrgenwerth scholars, and frequent disagreements. Not really enemies, but their personalities do not mesh well at all; Julie is level-headed despite her grumpiness and Fauxsefka is easily deluded although 'friendly', Julie is open-minded but Fauxsefka is prone to fanatism and black-white thinking, Julie often chooses passive ways (such as preferring to not touch Mensis ritual and slowly 'evolve' people) but Fausxefka will take active, decisive actions (such as running off and forcibly evolving people into Kin so they can't become beasts instead). They are opposites that not complete each other, but tend to argue. Fauxsefka called Julie callous and vile on multiple occasions, Julie called her crazy and deranged in return. Even the last time they've interacted, they were fighting exactly over Fauxsefka's idea to return to her experiments, and she told Julie that she should have known better than to believe she'd understand her. Granted, they were trying their best to get along for years, but some people are just not compatible.

Iosefka: She is Fauxsefka's twin. Despite sharing more in common with Julie, Iosefka is a more tender and malleable pushover than her, so she'd tend to go along with Fauxsefka most of the time rather than argueing.

However, that made Julie a little bit of a 'therapist' friend for Iosefka, and she knew more about her than even her sister. Iosefka entrusted Julie about supporting Micolash's ideas more (at the time), and Julie was the best to hear her out, as someone both critical but not controlling. (Besides, she already used to it, as Rom outright idealized Micolash...) Their friendship was a bit one-sided, but Julie appreciated the trust, and Iosefka appreciated being given space and perspective.

Edgar: Julie liked him more than she'd want to admit, it is as if the guy embodies exactly the kind of a person Julie wishes she was but simply can't be. Not because she is 'bad' but because she is Julie, not Edgar! xd In fact, she envied him, both in good and bad ways. She also had slight fear that he'd 'steal' Rom from her that she'd repress. Most of all traits, she appreciated his independent, non-conforming thinking! Although Julie, likewise, didn't fit into Choir, but her reason was to side with Willem's approach much more. Edgar though? That guy was an unhinged, unbreakable individualist, questioning anything (including even the most sacred and dogmatic things) and anyone (regardless of their age and experience). Yet, this also ended up the trait she resents him by now, since Edgar, sent to spy on Micolash, ended up "thinking that Micolash's ideas make more logical sense". Funny enough, fuming mad at Edgar for being a 'traitor' was the most sincere moment of bonding and agreement Julie ever had with Fauxsefka in her entire life.

White Church Hunter (yes, the one in Research Hall): Vasylissa was Willem's Julie before Julie was Willem's Julie x) Julie tends to develop bonds that are either tense or unequal, but these two had a rather warm bond. The only reason they didn't become girlfriends is because Julie already was too attached to Rom and Vasylissa was always busy with something. But as a very responsible scholar, Julie would get praise from Vasylissa often, down to receiving headpats (that made her blush). Vasylissa would also often find herself pleasantly surprised by Julie having already completed some tasks she thought she'd have to do! They repeated the dynamic in the Research Hall a lot, except now they'd occasionally have cup of tea to bitch about Laurence xd I think it could've been a cute ship in an AU though!

Micolash: Had it not been for LAWS OF THIS LAND- errr, Damian and Rom, Julie would have probably hated him! It doesn't change the fact that he is completely lost on her after going completely batshit (even on his own faction), but being close with two people that loved the guy for years made Julie well aware of his tragic past and sympathetic traits. She simply could not feel hostile towards him, he basically became a friend-in-law, but could very well see Micolash was a dangerous person. She'd attempt to sneak on him without Rom knowing to check whether he was up to something, but either Micolash would be aware and tangle his traces... or Damian would catch her and carry her away like a puppy sdhfgds Rom's love towards Micolash had rubbed onto Julie so much that even if the siblings were to fall apart or one hurt another, she'd try to reconcile them and be a mediator between the two.

Laurence: Unlike what was going on with Fauxsefka, her tension with Laurence was more similar to animosity. Less heated but more 'genuine' conflicts, that stemmed from clashing ideologies rather than clashing temperaments. None of them wanted to become an "enemy" to each other, but it just so happened that Julie OFTEN had something to say against him. She, like Willem and Vasylissa, resented him wasting himself to the ambitions and the plan that was not promising much success in the long run; Laurence pretentiously expressed sadness about her being a very responsible and hard-working asset yet 'having' to always go against him... all that. The difference is that when Laurence would cringe and fail, Julie would feel genuinely concerned about his future, but should Julie make a mistake, Laurence would be gleeful.

9) Headcanons about their past

My impression about her is that if she'd always been the goodie-two-shoes A+ responsible pupil, she'd likely burn out by the time she enrolls in Byrgenwerth! So I'd say she used to be more mediocre kind of kid and teen, only developing the hard-working and respectful attitude over age. You know, as if to compensate for "missed" opportunities in the past!

She'd had a bit of a hard character since childhood, and unfortunately no help or guidance for it. Grown-ups would either not give her much mind as the "no fun" kid or try to make her smile by giving her candy or small gifts. Julie ended up even more aloof and sulky child, feeling like nobody could like her the way she was. It did not help that when she DID try to connect with her peers, they'd make light-hearted jokes about her deigning them with presence at last.. that only made her feel MORE reclusive.

But she'd find a productive outlet for her pent-up aggression in defending the bullied kids with her fists and winning! Along with that, she'd often do boring voluntary job for school all alone, just as long as she could be busy with something. Over time, that formed a circle of thankful, well-meaning people around her that remembered her kindness and other good traits even into young adulthood. None were quite close friends, but under sense of having 'contributed' to the society despite a rocky start in life, Julie started to grow softer.

Julie was one of the people who joined Byrgenwerth only 'after it became cool' (ie not for archeology, but for weird ancient arcane secrets)! She got an impression that over there, people had finally re-discovered something humanity needed but had lost and forgotten. It was a struggle though, as her parents tried to argue that she was on her way to 'simply study something interesting', that did not seem to promise much career opportunities. She felt very guilt and uneasy about her decision, that only had faded when she met Rom and formed a bond with her.

Thank you for asking me! <:3

#bloodborne #yurie the last scholar #ask replies #you better off not knowing how hard i laughed at my own sense of humor when i responded to number 1 lol #fuckin laurence pls #i swear i am comedy genius #doodles #yeah me actually seeing numbers and RGB data of this character basically caused TOMBOYFICATION BEAM #that ridiculously 'cute' beta julie tho lmao #i honestly can make some of my beta designs into original characters because they were that much different #even beta rom