#lined the edge of the lid with construction tape for now

[agentgreenbean]

help girl my snake is trying to escape his tank again

#lined the edge of the lid with construction tape for now #probably need to buy thicker foam weather insulation strips to line the lid for now til i eventually get a new tank #hes probably too fat to escape anyways. but just in case

[jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav]

Obey Me: The Brothers Accidentally Trigger an Abused MC (Beelzebub) (6/7)

Disclaimer: I’m not an expert on abuse or mental health. I’m not portraying how one should respond to these situations, only how I think the characters might. Abuse and trauma in particular are very complex topics, and people respond in all sorts of ways to them, and sometimes it gets really bad on all sides.

I can only draw from my personal experiences as well as those of people who have shared their stories or who I’m close with. There’s no one narrative of abuse and how it affects someone, so what I’m familiar with might not be what you’re familiar with. Let’s try and all be respectful of each other.

Content Warnings: Heated arguments, reference to past abuse, parental abuse, trauma response, breaking down in tears, this is quintessential hurt/comfort y’all, buckle up

Kinda cheating for the twins unfortunately! (In the sense that I’m gonna rely heavily on canon events) In Beel’s case it’s because we’ve only ever seen him lose his cool about either food or family, and for Belphie, well… you’ll see.

Gaaaah tumblr’s stupid new thing where if you resize the tab it wipes your post and switches between mobile and desktop versions made this SUCH a bitch to edit, but here it is! Once again, thank you all so much for your patience! I’ve learned not to make promises about when the next part will come out, but we’re almost done! It’s just Belphie left, then I get to the other requests!

To clarify, the initial dialogue in this scene is not mine, but comes from Lesson 4 of the game and is based on events from Lessons 4 and 5. 

Lucifer (X) Mammon (X), Leviathan (X), Satan (X), Asmodeus (X), Beelzebub (you are here), Belphegor (X)

“Now what do we have here?” Mammon soliloquises. “Looks like a custard.” 

MC has absolutely no idea what possessed them into letting him drag them to the kitchen. 

“Mammon, are you sure we should-”

“Here, eat this,” he cuts MC off, handing them a cup of custard. “I need an accomplice. I don’t wanna be the only one in trouble.”

“In trouble?!” They look down at the custard lid. A note is firmly taped to it.

Property of Beelzebub. You eat it, you die.

They gulp. They really shouldn’t be touching this, what if…

“You’ve gotta be seriously brave to eat this custard here.” Mammon snatches the dessert back and waves it around. “If you can do that, I’ll admit that you’ve got guts.” 

I won’t have any guts if Beelzebub finds out, MC thinks. They know the consequences for stealing food. I don’t care if you haven’t eaten all day, you DO NOT touch that fridge, understand?

“So you’re gonna do it, right? What am I sayin’? Do it. That’s an order.”

Then again, they don’t know what Mammon’s capable of either.

Go on, do it. You want to waste food so bad? Go in the trash and fish it out like the animal you are!

“...Okay, I’ll eat it...” 

“There we go.” Mammon’s grin is wolfish as he holds out a spoon for them.

It tastes… oh wow. It’s very good custard. They almost want to go back for another-

“You did it!” Mammon shouts, and MC flinches so hard they nearly drop the container. “You totally ate Beel’s custard! I saw ya!”

Now you’ve done it, MC! You know how mad our parents are gonna be when they get back!

I… I had to… I didn’t want to… But it had been days...

“Shhh-!”

“Great, now I’ve got an accomplice. If you ate his stuff too, that means we’re in this boat together!” He returns his attention to the fridge. “So, my turn. Let’s see if I can find anything else good in here. I’ve got a feeling there’s probably something nice hiding back here in this corner-”

A shadow looms over the pair. MC’s blood goes cold. They’ve been caught again.

“D’AH! Beel!” Mammon squeaks. “Wh-What’s the big idea sneakin’ up on me like that? How long have you been there…?”

“Did you eat my custard?” Oh no no no no no. “Did you actually eat my CUSTARD?! Answer me, Mammon!”

Who ate it? Well? Answer me! Or none of you are eating tonight.

“N-Now wait a second, Beel! Lemme explain! There’s a good reason for-”

“You did, didn’t you…?”

Pink flames envelop the Avatar of Gluttony as part of his human illusion falls away. An intimidating pair of sharp horns curl around his head and massive fly’s wings buzz angrily on his back. 

“You… ate… my… CUSTARD!”

“Uh-oh!”

As Mammon attempts to escape Beelzebub’s wrath, all MC can do is remain perfectly still, the custard container clutched tightly to their chest. They’ve. Been. Caught.

It’s ridiculous. A small, hysterical part of MC laughs at the absurdity of being caught between two of the most powerful demons in Hell, squabbling over custard and chasing each other around the kitchen. A choked noise escapes them instead. The custard turns sickeningly sweet in their mouth.

The paralysis is broken when Mammon goes sailing through the kitchen wall. Is that-?

A hole in their wall, just above their head. Screaming voices, crying, begging, accusing. They’ve been caught, and now they will be punished.

Footsteps approach MC, and a figure stands towering over them, so much taller, he wouldn’t even have to lay a hand on them for them to be scared, but he will, he will, he’ll hit them again, again and again and again and-

“MC-”

“PLEASE DON’T HIT ME!” They hold up the custard towards Beelzebub, their limbs confused between the desire to return the offending dessert and protect their face. 

The Avatar of Gluttony is almost offended by the outburst, until he hears Mammon groan and attempt to get up, shifting some of the rubble before collapsing once again. Okay, maybe he doesn’t have room to be offended right now. 

He plucks the container from MC’s vice-like grip, the difference in strength between the two so great that he doesn’t feel their resistance. Oh, it’s almost completely untouched. Maybe he overreacted… Then again, it is Mammon. 

...It’s MC’s room that connects to that wall, isn’t it?

Beelzebub opens his mouth to apologize to MC about their wall, to assure them that they’ll figure out a place for them to sleep until it’s repaired, but they’re already gone, sprinting off further into the House of Lamentation.

Did he scare them that bad…?

~

After the three hours of lecturing that ensued, MC isn’t sure if notifying Lucifer was, in fact, the best idea. While Mammon and Beelzebub had seemed bored, annoyed even, they were barely able to stay on their feet by the end of it. Perhaps they’re still exhausted from their sprint to Lucifer’s study, as well as… other factors.

Lucifer calls their name sternly, as though he has done so several times already. They start and straighten up, but can’t bring themself to quite meet the demon’s eyes.

“I asked you a question.” 

“Oh…” they say. “...Sorry...I didn’t-”

“Are you sure you’re comfortable staying in Beelzebub’s room?” They don’t reply, and something in Lucifer’s expression softens. “You were quite distressed when you came to me. If my brothers have done something to upset you, I need to know. Your wellbeing is a crucial part of the exchange program.”

MC laughs humorlessly. “You mean other than destroying my room, I’m guessing.”

The Avatar of Pride falters almost imperceptibly, disguising his surprise with a cough. “Yes, other than… the collateral damage.”

“...Yeah,” they eventually say. “Uh, yes, I’ll stay with Beel until my room is fixed. It’s fine.”

“Wonderful. You’re free to go.” He promptly leaves, muttering about calling the construction worker so soon after the last time. 

While MC has a feeling that Beel would be completely fine not addressing the Custard Incident so long as they don’t treat him any differently, they feel the need to explain themself for both their sakes. They tell Beelzebub about their upbringing, about how controlling their parents were when it came to food, and how they’d have to sneak meals more often than not. The punishments they faced when caught doing this.

Beel is horrified and feels incredibly guilty upon finding out what he inadvertently forced MC to relive. He once again assures them that he knew it was Mammon who talked them into eating his custard and that he doesn’t really hold it against them. In fact, from then on, the Avatar of Gluttony invites them on his frequent “snack runs” (which, for Beel, consist of an amount of food MC would normally call a family meal) and personally makes sure they’re eating enough regularly. 

One day, MC comes back from a long afternoon studying at RAD and nearly panics all over again at the sight of the kitchen. Saucepans, bowls, half-empty containers, and all sorts of utensils litter the room, not to mention a healthy coating of sweet-smelling fluids. At the centre of this mess is none other than Beel, who smiles and waves upon noticing them, sending more flecks of custard to the floor.

He hands them a container of custard, complete with a lining of various fruits around the edges. On its lid is a note: Property of MC. 

It’s very good custard.

“...I…” They can’t. Not if that will happen again. They shake their head, the tears threatening to return.

Lucifer holds back a sigh and nods. “Very well. We’ll find other accommodations until your room is repaired. Perhaps Mammon will get his wish after all…”

Beel doesn’t understand why the human is avoiding him. At first he thought they were still mad about the whole going-on-a-rampage-and-destroying-their-room thing, but they’ve since forgiven Mammon for causing that, so that can’t be it. He keeps returning to the thought that it was something about him, that he scared them so bad they don’t feel safe being around him. Did they think he would try and eat them?

That’s not entirely unfair, he thinks. Especially considering they’re a human in a house with a bunch of demons.

But they aren’t scared around anyone else. Not Satan’s propensity for fatal grudges, not Mammon’s recklessness, not Lucifer’s intimidating presence, not Asmo or Levi’s volatile mood swings… It was just him.

Because he’s just a useless glutton.

#obey me #obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me! beelzebub #shall we date: obey me #mine #beelzebub #my writing

[btsqualityy]

BTS Toddler Series #25: Christmas

Kim Seokjin

“Here we go,” Jin said as he walked into the living room, a large box filled with ornaments in his hands. 

“What’s that?” Kaiden asked as he scooted towards the edge of the couch, wanting to get a peek inside of the box.

“You remember how I told you that we were gonna make our tree really nice and pretty?” You spoke up and Kaiden turned to look over at you, nodding his head. “Well, the decorations for it are in that box.”

“Come look,” Jin called as he set the box down on the ground next to the Christmas tree. Kaiden slid down from the couch and walked over to his father, watching carefully as Jin pulled the lids of the box open. 

“Oh, pretty,” Kaiden whispered as he peeked over into the box. Jin chuckled and reached into the box, pulling out a sphere shaped ornament. 

“Here, you take this hook and sit it on the tree,” Jin instructed as he then took the ornament and hooked it onto one of the branches. “Like that.”

“Ok,” Kaiden nodded and Jin picked out another ornament, this time a small box, and then handed it off to Kaiden. 

“Careful Kade,” you said as you got up and walked over to them. Kaiden nodded once again before slowly and gently placing the box on another branch, smiling widely afterwards. The three of you then spent the next 45 minutes decorating the tree and having Kaiden helping actually turned out better than you and Jin thought it would. 

“Wanna put the star on Chinny?” Jin asked and Kaiden nodded instantly. You handed the star to him and watched as Jin picked Kaiden up, lifting him so that he could reach the top of the tree. Kaiden then pushed the star on to the top branch and Jin set him back onto the ground.

“What do you think Kade?” You asked him.

“We did good,” he chirped, making both you and Jin laugh.

Min Yoongi 

“Daddy, where we going?” Kinsley asked as you, her, and Yoongi walked through the mall together. Technically though, Yoongi was carrying Kinsley.

“We have a surprise for you baby girl,” Yoongi said and Kinsley gasped softly.

“Good one?” She wondered.

“Yeah, it’s a good surprise,” you laughed. The three of you continued on throughout the mall until you came to this huge photo booth area, that was decorated in what seemed to be an endless amount of Christmas decorations. 

“Mommy, Daddy!” Kinsley squealed and you smiled widely, already having expected this reaction from her. “It’s Santa!” She pointed over to the man that was dressed as Santa, sitting in a large chair as he took pictures with a few other children.

“We know, we brought you to see him,” you told him.

“Do you wanna go over to him?” He asked her and she nodded immediately. Thankfully, the line was not long at all so there was only about a 5 minute wait until the three of you were standing in front of “Santa”.

“Hello there little girl,” Santa smiled at Kinsley. Yoongi set her down on the ground and you both watched as she walked over to stand in front of Santa. “What’s your name?”

“Kinsley,” she whispered, suddenly feeling shy in the presence of the large man. 

“And how old are you Kinsley?”

“Three,” she said as she held up three of her fingers. 

“Have you been a good girl this year?” He wondered and Kinsley nodded. “Good. I guess that means that I’ll have to give you everything you want this year huh?” He chuckled and she nodded shyly. “Would you like to take a picture with me?”

“Can I?” Kinsley asked as she turned around to look at you and Yoongi 

“Go ahead baby girl,” Yoongi smiled and Kinsley wasted no time in climbing up onto Santa’s lap. The both of them grinned widely and the cameraman took their pictures, all while you and Yoongi each took a photo on your phones as well.

Kim Namjoon

“All ready for bed Mase?” You asked him as you watched him pull his pajama top over his head. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. He then looked over at his bookcase, pointing to it as he looked back at you. “Can we finish the book Mommy?” He wondered, referring to the book ‘The Polar Express’.

“Are you sure you want to finish it tonight?” You questioned with a chuckle. “You didn’t even make it halfway through before you fell asleep on it last night.”

“Please,” he begged. “Wanna finish before Christmas.”

“Alright, alright, we can read it,” you relented, making him cheer. “Go get Daddy and I’ll meet you in our room, ok?” He nodded quickly before running off to find Namjoon while you walked over to his small bookcase and grabbed the book off of the shelf. You then walked out of Mason’s bedroom and down the hall to your and Namjoon’s room, only to find both Mason and Namjoon already waiting in the bed for you. 

“I see the two of you are ready,” you giggled as you climbed into bed with them. You settled down on one side of Mason while Namjoon was on the other side, the two of you sandwiching him in. 

“Do you want me or Daddy to read?” You asked Mason.

“Daddy please,” he requested and you silently handed the book over to Namjoon.

“Should I start from the beginning or do you remember what happened?” Namjoon wondered.

“Start over,” Mason said as he snuggled further into the bed. Namjoon nodded, opening the book and beginning to read. The three of you laid there together, you threading your fingers through Mason’s hair gently as Namjoon’s soothing voice recited the words from the book.

“Joon look,” you called out suddenly, making him stop reading and look over at you. A wide smile came over his face at the sight of Mason fast asleep against you, his fringe covering his eyes.

“I knew he wasn’t gonna last,” Namjoon laughed and you just shook your head before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of Mason’s head.

Jung Hoseok 

“Daddy, mommy!” Lennox yelled as he and Berkeley ran into the living room. You and Hobi were snuggled up together on the couch, a blanket covering the both of you as you watched a movie.

“What is it kiddos?” Hobi chuckled as they both clambered onto the couch and smushed themselves in between you and Hobi.

“We can’t find the elf today,” Berkeley pouted as she looked up at her father, referring to the elf on the shelf that you and Hobi had been hiding around the house for them.

“Did you look in your room?” You asked and hey both nodded their heads. 

“Help us please,” Lennox requested. 

“Alright, come on,” Hobi said and they both smiled widely before sliding down off the couch. “You gonna come with us?” He asked as he looked over at you.

“Why not?” You shrugged and the both of you got up from the couch. Hobi then lead the way into the laundry room, turning around to face the twins afterwards.

“I have a feeling that the elf may be in here,” Hobi said mysteriously and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, knowing that he was the one who had been in charge of moving the elf today.

“Oh! Found it!” Berkeley exclaimed, hopping up and down as she pointed up to the shelf above the washing machine.

“God job princess,” Hobi grinned as he picked her up, lifting her and letting her pluck the elf from the shelf. 

“Can we play with it Mommy?” Lennox asked as he looked up at you.

“Go ahead,” you relented. “But bring it back to Daddy before bedtime, ok?”

“Ok!” They both agreed before running off with the elf.

“How much do you wanna bet that we never see that elf again?” Hobi said, making you laugh loudly.

Park Jimin

“Mommy,” Noah whined as he sat next to you on the floor of you and Jimin’s bedroom. “Wanna help.”

“Just a sec Noey,” you mumbled as you concentrated on trying to hold the wrapping paper in place in order for you to tape it together. Jimin walked back into the room then, carrying a few shopping bags that were filled with the gifts that needed to be wrapped for your family and friends. 

“Daddy,” Noah whimpered, turning his attention to Jimin. “Mommy won’t let me help.”

“What? Why?” Jimin wondered as he set the bags down on the floor and then sat down across from you. 

“I didn’t say he couldn’t help, I just told him to wait a second,” you chuckled. “And don’t snitch on me.”

“Come here mini me,” Jimin laughed as he shook his head and Noah crawled over to sit next to his father. Jimin looked into one of the bags and pulled out a small box, handing it to Noah. “Wanna help me wrap uncle Tae Tae’s present?”

“Yeah,” Noah chirped enthusiastically and you couldn’t help but to smile at him. Jimin grabbed the scissors and some wrapping paper, cutting out the appropriate amount needed to wrap the gift. He then handed it off to Noah, who instantly went to work on trying to wrap it correctly.

“So, have you gotten my gift yet?” You asked Jimin as you looked up at him, and he just smiled.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He chuckled.

“I would actually,” you giggled. 

“You’ll have to wait and see jagi,” he said. “I’m not even gonna ask if you got my present yet though, because I know that you don’t have what I really want. At least not right now.”

“Soon Jimin-ssi,” you promised him with a soft smile. “And I think you’ll still like my actual gift in spite of that.”

“Daddy, help me please,” Noah spoke up suddenly and both you and Jimin looked down, seeing that Noah had managed to rip up the wrapping paper and the entire present was exposed.

“Ok mini me,” Jimin laughed. “You did a good job though,” he praised him and you smiled at how great Jimin was with your son.

Kim Taehyung 

“Ok, who’s card do you want to do next Spence?” You asked as you took a card that she had decorated full of glue and glitter and set it off to the side to dry. For Christmas this year, you and Taehyung had thought that it would be really cute and meaningful if Spencer handmade Christmas cards for your families and for the members. 

“Uh, Uncle Kookie,” she said and you nodded before handing her another piece of construction paper that you had already folded in half for her. She quickly picked up a blue marker and set to work on decorating it. 

“I’m home!” You heard Taehyung shout as the front door opened and then closed. It was only a few more seconds before he was walking into the kitchen and smiling at the sight of you and Spencer sitting at the kitchen table together.

“Hey, how was your day?” You wondered as you watched him walk over to you.

“Eh,” he shrugged with a chuckle before leaning down and kissing you firmly. He then turned to Spencer, who hadn’t once looked up from the card that she was working on. “Hi Munchkin.”

“Hi Daddy,” she replied, still not sparing him a glance as he kissed her on the cheek.

“Oh, you’re working on your Christmas cards,” Tae smiled as he looked at the small stack of cards that she had already finished. 

“Yeah and she’s doing a great job,” you praised her. “See, look at them.”

“No!” Spencer squealed as she finally looked up, reaching out to grab her Daddy’s hands. “Daddy’s card is there and he can’t see it until Christmas.”

“Oh, that’s right,” you nodded. “Sorry Spence.”

“Well, who’s card are you working on now?” Taehyung asked as he peeked over Spencer’s shoulder in order to look at what she was doing. “It looks beautiful.”

“That’s Jungkook’s card,” you smiled.

“Oh, I should’ve known,” he smirked knowingly.

Jeon Jungkook

“I’m ready!” Ava chirped as she ran down the stairs in your house, running over to where you and Jungkook were standing by the front door.

“Ah, where are your gloves Ave?” You asked her when you saw that her hands were bare.

“Upstairs,” she murmured as she looked down at her hands. 

“Go get them Angel,” Jungkook instructed. “It’s cold out there.” Ava sighed heavily before turning around and walking back up the stairs. 

“If she has this much attitude at three, can you imagine how bad she’s gonna be when she’s a teenager?” You wondered.

“I don’t even wanna talk or think about that,” Jungkook shuddered, making you laugh. Just then, Ava came back down the stairs with her gloves on her hands. After checking to make sure that she was bundled up properly, Jungkook opened the front door and the three of you walked outside into the freshly fallen snow.

“Wanna go play in the snow Angel?” Jungkook asked her and Ava nodded. You watched with a smile as she stepped out further into the front yard, giggling when she heard the snow crunching underneath her feet.

“Here, want me to show you how to make a snowball?” You asked her and she nodded. You bent down and gathered some snow up, using your hands to form it into a ball. Ava then did the same, although her snowball turned into more of a huge glob than a ball. 

“Hey, we should get Daddy,” you whispered as you looked over at Jungkook, who had started to roll a huge ball of snow in order to make a snowman.

“Ok,” she giggled and the two of you slowly crept up behind Jungkook, who had his back turned to you two. You looked down and nodded at Ava, and the two of you threw your snowballs at him at the same time.

“What the!” Jungkook yelped as he jumped at the impact of the snowballs and he turned around, an evil smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, the two of you are in for it now!”

“Run Mommy!” Ava shrieked and the two of you took off across the yard, Jungkook following close behind with a snowball in each of his hands. 

#bts #bangtanarmynet #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts jungkook #bts jimin #bts jin #bts rm #bts rap mosnter #bts namjoon #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts v #bts taehyung #bts jhope #bts hoseok #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #jin x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #hoseok x reader

[rebellingstagnationblog]

Toyland - Perry Como

@pharaoh-ink asked for a Quackerjack chapter where we explored him working during the holiday season before he was a villain. 

@anachrolady made this gorgeous art piece for this story. Please go commission them! You will not be disappointed! Click here to see what they can do and their prices.  

You can also find their work here: http://www.darkwingtower.com/

The World of Color show soundtrack will pick up again with tomorrow's story. But for now, onto Quackerjack!

It had never been a toy shop in the Negaverse; it looked like it had been a bookstore instead. Quackerjack didn't know why he had wanted to visit except that the idea had consumed him to the point where no other thoughts had been circling in his head the past few days.

So he'd come.

And now that he was here.

He didn't like it.

It had looked better in the Prime Universe. When it had been his.

Sitting in the middle of the abandoned shop, with the roof half caved in and plant life crawling up what remained of the walls, Quackerjack cast his mind back. Visualized his toy store. As it had once been in another universe a lifetime ago.

—…—…—…—…—…—…—…—

The most wonderful time of year was reserved specifically for those who didn't work in retail. Long hours, unreasonable requests, a staggering amount of product being shoved onto the floor only to fly off the shelves moments later. Constant turn around, money flying everywhere, and emotions running high.

It was enough to cause many an employee to swear off the Christmas season. Or to quit retail all together.

But to Jack, it was a magical time of year.

Colors were brighter. Displays were alive with their moving trains and flying reindeer. And the children. Eyes wide with wonder, hopes so very high for what was to come on the 25th day of December.

He enjoyed this time of year so much that he'd even gone so far as to design his shop around a Christmas song. The licensing had gone through so he'd been able to name if after the song in question. Toyland.

From the outside, it didn't look any different from the other stores lined up along the block. A rather ordinary shopfront, the name carved into a wooden sign that hung above the doorway, a jester hat — his logo — painted across the bottom, complete with golden jingle bells on the ends. Large bay windows bracketed the door, giving a clear view to his displays and window dressings. The purple door was the only sign that something was different about this particular store, and often brought in customers to investigate.

The interior of the shop was lovingly crafted from the crown molding to the hardwood floors, dark and light woods playing off of one another across the shop. There were areas with rugs laid out surrounded by plush chairs and small tables where the children were encouraged to unleash their imaginations and test out which toy would be so lucky as to go home with them. The shelves lining all the walls were a smooth varnished wood, always stocked full of the latest and greatest toys. "Toyland"'s lyrics were painted in loopy gold script along the crown molding, a constant reminder to Jack about the sanctity of his vocation.

A large pine tree stood proudly in the center of the shop, children scurrying around and playing with the toy soldiers, nutcrackers, stuffed mice, rocking horses, and dolls that had been set up in an elaborate battle scene around the base. The Nutcracker was extremely popular this year. Which Jack had (correctly) predicted. Not that he was saying his predictions always came true. They just usually did. What could he say? He knew the toy game and how to use it to his advantage.

"Hullo, Mr. Jack!" came a small voice.

Jack leaned over the counter to spy a small girl, hair in messy curls around her face. "Hello, Alex!" he cried, smiling down at her. He spread out atop the counter so as to maintain eye contact with her and kicked his legs up merrily behind him. "Why weren't you at playtime today?"

Playtime was a daily occurrence at Toyland. Jack gathered all the children in the largest section of the shop and debuted his newest creations, allowing the kids to test them out before the products hit the shelves. Some of his regulars, like Alex, prided themselves on attending playtime religiously, and weren't afraid to speak their minds about what worked and what didn't.

Alex's brow furrowed and she drew her beak into a frown. Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "Mr. Jack asked you a question."

Squaring her shoulders and looking up to Jack with no apology in her big eyes, Alex said, "I was in detention, Mr. Jack."

"So close to Christmas?" Jack lamented, placing his beak in the palm of his hand. "What happened?"

"Mrs. Kapla said I was fighting, but I wasn't. Honest! There were bullies pushing Emily around at recess, and she's too small to push back, so I did it for her." Alex crossed her arms. "And I'd do it again."

"Alex!" reprimanded her mother.

"I would!" the girl insisted.

Jack smiled down at her. "I'm proud of you for standing up to the bullies, little playmate. But maybe next time you could get a grown up to help you?"

"There wasn't time!" Alex said, throwing her hands up in desperation. "The bell was about to ring and we were all gonna go back inside and no one saw it happening except me so I had to do something!"

Alex's mother — he never bothered with the names of the grownups; they were all boring people who had forgotten how to use their imaginations — looked at Jack, her eyes half-lidded. "Do you see what I have to deal with?"

Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes and returned his attention to Alex. "You were very brave."

Alex looked at him, hope in her eyes. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. How about this: when you see the bullies pick on someone again, you can help out your friend and then tell a teacher later?"

Alex cocked her head to one side. "I guess that could work."

"Of course it will work! I'm a genius after all."

"A genius toy maker," Alex corrected, already sarcastic at the age of nine. He loved it. "It's not the same. What did you and the other kids play with today?"

"Oh! Let me show you!" Jack careened over the counter to join Alex, hurriedly digging through his pockets and kneeling down to her level. "You've heard of wind-up toy soldiers. How about a wind-up ballerina who can dance on her own?"

"Outside of a music box?" She sounded skeptical. "How does she balance?"

"Magic," Jack said with a grin, pulling out the ballerina and setting it on the counter. He wound the key in the doll's back and it began to dance, arms and legs gracefully moving to a song played by a phantom orchestra. Alex was transfixed, her little hands gripping the edge of the counter as she watched the toy dance.

Her mother mouthed, "Thank you," to Jack but he waved it away, focusing on Alex. Her reaction was what he really needed. He was proud of this particular toy, but the opinions of his playmates were essential to his creative process.

"Does she have to be in pink?" Alex asked eventually, glancing at Jack.

"Well, ballerinas usually wear pink, don't they? What other color would she wear?"

"Whatever color I want. There could be different tutus. Besides, she'd have to have different clothes for all the ballets she dances in."

Jack's eyes grew wide. "A whole wardrobe of costumes." He jumped up, a grin on his face as he turned to his cashier. "A whole wardrobe!" Leaping up onto the counter, he exclaimed, "A WHOLE WARDROBE!"

The adults in the store looked horrified by his actions, hurriedly looking away from him or whispering to one another. Some of the children looked curious while those who'd participated in playtime earlier today looked disappointed that they hadn't thought of the idea first.

Scooping up the ballerina and sitting atop the counter, Jack grinned down at Alex. "You can't get anymore detentions. I need you at playtime."

Alex smiled. "You do?"

"Yes! No one else came up with that idea. It's genius! Isn't it genius, Claire?" He turned to his cashier.

The young woman smiled back, making Jack's stomach do several loopty-loops, before leaning over the counter to cast her sunshine on Alex. "Absolutely. Mr. Jack knows a genius when he sees one."

A customer approached the counter, toys in hand, and Claire invited them forward while Jack jumped down to join Alex again.

"Tell you what, little playmate, why don't you take this ballerina with you?"

"Don't you wanna keep her?" Alex asked, staring at the doll with wonder on her face. "So you can make more?"

"I have more that aren't finished yet in the back. You take this one and in a few months, bring it back and we can set you up with a whole closet full of tutus and costumes."

Alex glanced up at Jack before grinning and taking the doll gently from his grasp.

"What do you say to Mr. Jack, Alex?" her mother promoted.

Cradling the doll close, Alex said, "Thank you, Mr. Jack."

"No, no. Thank you. You always make my toys better." He winked at her before waving goodbye as her mother ushered her out of the store.

A customizable ballerina. Why hadn't he thought of that?

The rest of the day flew by in a whirlwind of ribbons, scotch tape, and colorful paper as he rang up customers and boxed his latest and greatest creations. As the hustle and bustle wound down, Jack worked on putting the store back in order while Claire closed out the registers.

Or, he was supposed to tidy up. He kept getting distracted watching Claire count the bills with her long graceful fingers. Seeing her tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Observing how a faint line appeared between her brows as she totaled everything up. She'd worked at Toyland for a few months now and had become one of his favorite employees. Not just because she was pretty and did funny things to his insides, but because she was kind and patient and saw the same wonder in the children that he did. Because she sometimes took part in playtime with them and gave good constructive feedback.

Because, to her, these weren't just toys. They were a realm of possibility. A chance to help mold young children's imaginations and explore a better tomorrow.

"I know you're watching me."

Jack tripped on the edge of a display case and nearly took out his teddy bear brigade. Righting himself, and hoping he at least looked suave doing it, he glanced over at the counter. To where Claire was watching him with a knowing smile on her beak.

"N-no," he said weakly, leaning up against the dollhouse display and crossing one foot over the other. Like the cool kids in movies. "I was just…." Unable to find a decent excuse, he loped over to the counter, nearly tripping over his own feet along the way, and gesticulated madly to distract her. "Do you think we need some decorations across the front here?"

"The children would pull them down. You know how excited they get." Claire leaned over and studied the bare wanes coating of the cashier's desk. "Though, it could benefit from something."

"See? Just what I had been thinking. We are on the same wavelength."

Claire glanced up with a smirk.

Jack felt his cheeks heat. He cleared his throat and crouched down, trying to visualize something in the blank space. "A mural, perhaps?"

"Or more song lyrics?" Claire stacked the money together before slipping it into a bag and zipping it closed.

"That's an idea! There's gotta be more songs about toys out there." Jack cocked his head to one side, as if the angle would help lyrics fall into his head.

"I've always liked 'Pure Imagination' myself." Claire said. "Reminds me of you."

"Am I as mad as Willy Wonka?"

"Madder."

Jack glanced up, mock offense on his face.

Claire grinned and rested her forearms on the counter, her elegant hands entwining with one another. "You have to be mad to make all the amazing toys that you do."

Jack straightened up, an eyebrow raised. "I'm not sure if I should be offended."

Claire's smile grew soft as she leaned down. "You can be whatever you want to be."

Jack was about to give his retort, but it died on his tongue when he realized how close they were. Only the smallest of inches separating them. Her pale green eyes suddenly the center of his world. The smile slowly slipping off her face as she studied him, her beak opening as if to say something.

She seemed to be getting even closer. Maybe because he was stretching up towards her. Or was she dipping down to him? Both, he realized, as the distance between them grew smaller.

Her eyelids fluttered, long eyelashes sweeping over her cheeks. His heart was racing, the pulse pounding in his ears.

A sharp rap on the front door had Claire jerking backwards, her cheeks coloring as she glanced towards the noise.

She pulled her beak up into a polite smile and scurried over to open the front door. "I'm sorry, ma'am, we're closed for the evening."

"Oh, can't I come in for a moment? I promise I'll be quick. Its just, my son hasn't stopped talking about this Wiffle Boy, and all the other stores I've been to are sold out."

"What's a wiffle?" Jack asked, crossing the shop to stand behind Claire.

"Wiffle Boy. He's a character I think," said the woman, pushing her hair out of her face and shrugging. "I don't really know much beyond it's all these kids are talking about. Do you have anything that's Wiffle Boy?"

"I haven't heard of any board games about a Wiffle kid," said Jack, glancing over at his inventory. Was there a new release? No, he would have heard about it. Maybe if he knew what a wiffle was, knew what shape or color he was looking for….

"Oh, not a board game!" said the woman. "A video game."

Jack turned back, a sneer on his beak. "We don't sell video games here. We sell real toys. Toys that inspire children to create and become well adjusted adults, not something that will desensitize them to violence and turn them into criminals."

The woman's eyebrows rose.

Claire motioned over the woman's shoulder, saying, "There's a video game store down the street. You might have better luck with them."

"I'll try there, then. Thanks, and sorry to trouble you." With that, she bundled down the street to the video game shop that had opened up just after Halloween. Blinding lights flashed through the windows, sure to induce a migraine with their colorful and constant strobing.

There was no finesse to the display. No class. No sense at all. It was all just thrown together, the electric components whirring and blinking in a desperate attempt to pull in wayward shoppers.

The worst part was that it worked on some of them. Children would bounce when they saw the store, distracted by the shiny things inside. Jack didn't like those children; they were the ones who looked at his toys and asked, "But what does it do?"

Claire closed the door with a snap, and ensured their printed sign was turned so the "Closed" side faced the street. "I should probably get going," she said, sending a smile up to Jack as she walked back to the counter and scooped up her money bag. "I have shopping to do myself before I go home."

"Sure, sure," said Jack, giving one last cursory glare to the gaming store. "Thank you for all your help today."

"Of course," she said before disappearing into the stockroom.

Jack turned off the lights in his display windows and was straightening up the train village when Claire returned, buttoning her coat with her purse hanging off one shoulder.

"Don't stay up too late. Even mad geniuses need their sleep."

Jack grinned. "I'll do what I can."

"That means you'll be in that workshop of yours all through the night trying to get your ballerina's wardrobe sketched out."

He shrugged. "These toys won't invent themselves."

"I suppose not. But rest is important, too." Stuffing a hat on her head, Claire nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Jack tucked his hands into his pockets, suddenly unsure what to do with them. "See you tomorrow."

Claire gave him one last smile before exiting the shop, Jack locking the door behind her. He glanced up at the words painted above the frame. The letters were in need of a fresh coat of paint. He would have to book his artist after the madness of the holidays.

He turned off the lights and headed to the stockroom where a staircase curled up to his apartment. Before closing the door and retiring for the night, he paused at the foot of the staircase, hand on the railing, and looked out over his shop. As was his custom.

With the Christmas lights the only beacon shining through the darkness, the words over his doorway practically gleamed. "Once you pass its borders, you can never return again."

Jack flicked off the Christmas lights and climbed upstairs to his apartment where his workshop lie in wait, ready for an evening of experimentation and innovation.

—…—…—…—…—…—…—…—

Quackerjack was startled out of his memories when he heard an insistent banging on the door. Who even knew he was here? He stomped over and flung it open with a ferocious scowl on his beak.

Which he immediately wiped away when he saw who was standing on the stoop.

"Get your stuff," snapped Negaduck, his expression dark. "We're leaving."

"Where are we going?" Quackerjack asked.

Negaduck glared. "I said get your stuff." He spun and marched away.

Quackerjack bounced after him, his pockets already stuffed with toys.

They joined Megavolt, who had been standing a few feet away, and the three of them trudged through the Negaverse with Negaduck in the lead.

This song, in particular, I played on repeat while writing Jack’s dialogue and characterization. 

#darkwing duck #quackerjack #geronimo series #season of light #25 days of ficmas

[fibula-rasa]

Cosplay the Classics: Greta Garbo

Greta Garbo was one of my very first favorite actresses. That perfectly magnetic face was a force even on a television screen. I set my VCR to tape every movie she was in as they appeared on TCM, then bought them all on DVD as they were released. In high school, a few of my friends even crafted Garbo-themed doodads for me because she wasn’t plastered on all manner of goods like Audrey Hepburn, James Dean or Marilyn Monroe were in the early 2000s. Though I didn’t put voice to it at the time, seeing a woman whose romance so clearly knew no gender was formative for me.

Garbo is by no means obscure, but even more people need to be watching her films. Don’t fret! Filmstruck to the rescue: Greta Garbo is their star of the week!

No time like the present to try my hand at a wearable Swedish Sphinx look. I aimed for late-silent Garbo, a la The Kiss (1929) and The Mysterious Lady (1928).

Taken and collaged by photographer Clarence Sinclair Bull in 1931, this photo spurred on the sticky nickname.

The Face of Garbo

The face of Garbo has inspired odes in spiritual, philosophical, and psychoanalytical terms over the past century and, yeah, it would be way above my pay grade to contribute to that canon. In lieu of that, let’s learn a little bit about how Garbo’s image was constructed.

When Greta Garbo made the trek from Sweden to Hollywood in 1925, she had all the raw ingredients to be a screen star. A face with no bad angles that still and film cameras can love alike is rare. All Garbo needed was a bit of polish to marry her outward appearance to the languid grace of her performance style.

Off screen, Garbo was often reported as wearing unassuming baggy trousers, loafers, and oversized sweaters. A thoroughly uncomplicated person. On screen, Adrian collaborated closely with her to style and design fashions that would follow her every move in seventeen of her feature films.

While I didn’t do a full-body look this time around, I tried to choose a top that would slouch with my posture.

Garbo’s makeup is beautifully consistent across her fifteen years in Hollywood. The application evolved as camera and projection technology advanced, but the shapes remained the same. Starting with Torrent (1926) and her first few silents, her makeup was drawn in higher contrast with heavier lines. In the late silents and her first few talkies, the lines were softened with more gradients in her eyeshadow and lipstick, and film cameras and lighting rigs began to capture more subtle gradations of light and dark. Throughout the rest of the 1930s all the way to Two-Faced Woman (1941), the lines were thinner and more delicate and paired with further shading, but still with a graphic effect.

from Torrent (1926), The Mysterious Lady (1928), and Conquest (1937)

The theme of her iconic look was a dreamy sensuousness, and I personally love that her makeup design is so simple. If applied properly it could be flattering on any face.

Read on after THE JUMP

Garbo wore a heavy line across her lashline, usually the darkest drawn element on her face. If you had the eyelashes of a mortal this line would be too heavy, but we’re talking about Garbo here. I put on a full strip of falsies. 

The line elongates the eye, much like a cat-eye flick, but it extends down and out to create a sultry-but-kind look. (Note: this liner style is currently en vogue in Japan right now & I think it’s overdue for a comeback on this side of the Pacific.) On the outer edge of the lower lashline a lighter line is drawn from the end of the upper line to the lower lashline, forming a small triangle. This finishes off the elongation of the eye. To make it more striking, you can fill in the triangle with a lighter nude liner.

On the lid, Garbo’s crease was emphasized sharply. Across the makeup eras described above, first it was a deep line that met the eyeliner in the corners, then a more natural gradient still with a cut crease, and then back to a distinct line, but applied with a much lighter hand.

from Flesh and the Devil (1926), Anna Christie (1930), and Two-Faced Woman (1941) 

Her eyebrows were plucked and drawn thinly, as was the style at the time. Regardless, Garbo usually followed her natural brow shape.

Garbo’s skin was described as remarkably flawless; Louise Brooks called it “petal-like.” So, a good powder is a must. Reportedly, she used a Max Factor foundation with a silver tint so the light would reflect strongly off her face. (This also probably explains why in a few of her films her face is so much brighter than her usually quite tan neck and shoulders.)

For blush, I used a simple dusty pink because her cheeks are much fuller than mine--so I didn’t want to add dimension. Dusty pink was also her favorite color. Like really.

Garbo’s New York apartment was decked out ceiling to carpet almost exclusively in rose pink!

Her lips were lined in a single tone following her natural shape. My lips are fuller but not as wide as hers so I drew them out a bit at the edges with a lip brush and filled in the shape in this method:

from The Kiss (1929)

Over the past year or so, I’ve experimented a lot with wet-set curling to improve my vintage chops. Many 1930s styles are difficult to achieve and Garbo’s is the least fussy hairstyle I’ve attempted from the period. So, even before the effortless long bob Garbo sported for much of her life, her styling was simple.

There are some accounts that she was a little erratic about working on her image but it must have been some relief that Garbo had close collaborators ironing out the glamor to accentuate her own art. Garbo took acting very seriously without much interest in being a movie star. Time has told that with Adrian as a costumer, Max Factor as a makeup designer, Clarence Sinclair Bull as a portrait photographer, and William H. Daniels as a cinematographer, an adequately sublime, timeless image was created to match her sublime, timeless performances.

Garbo’s Reach

Often when people talk about Marilyn Monroe’s predecessors, they can’t seem to get past her fluffy blonde hair. They draw endless parallels to Jean Harlow, with whom she shares little more than a hair color. Monroe herself idolized Garbo. And it shows if you’re looking for it.

All together, the lazy/sexy ideal is embodied by both women. Where Monroe usually infused this spirit into dizzy comedic roles, Garbo primarily put it to use playing women of mystery. Suffice it to say, both stars have reached an iconic status at least in part because their roles were intertwined so cleverly with their respective public images.

I look to Monroe’s eye makeup as the dead giveaway. Monroe and her makeup artist, Whitey Snyder, created much the same shapes but with gentler lines.

When Garbo first emerged with her long bob, it was admired by fans, but magazine writers were quick to point out that this was unflatteringly long and advised that only Garbo could pull it off. Likewise, Monroe was put down in the press for her too-long unstylish hair--some journalists even comparing her to a dog. (The ideal then being closer to Elizabeth Taylor’s neatly coiffed short curls.) Funny that both styles are considered almost universally flattering today.

According to Katharine Cornell, when Garbo was considering a return to the screen she wanted to star alongside Monroe. Garbo confided that she wanted to play Dorian Gray with Monroe as Sibyl Vane. If you’re queer-hearted like myself (and Garbo) it’s devastating that we never got that film.

I suppose I’ll sign off now with tears in my eyes for what could have been and for the mutual appreciation that Marilyn Monroe probably never knew about.

#greta garbo #garbo #cosplay #closet cosplay #classic film #classic movies #Filmstruck #silent film #silent movies #silent era #Adrian #marilyn monroe #hollywood #1920s #1930s #vintage #vintage inspired #vintage makeup #besame #besame cosmetics #film essay #film #movies #photography

[rpritchardjournal]

Making my Final Zoetrope - Step 5: Constructing the plinth

One the laser cut zoetrope was complete, I reached back out to Dan for advice about constructing the plinth that would hold the zoetrope in place and enable the viewer to spin it.

Dan and I arranged a session in the 3D workshops to start constructing the plinth on the 6th of May. In this first session we built the basic structure, cutting the sizes out of 12mm MDF. We decided on a very simple construction, using reinforcing beams and a nail gun to secure the MDF walls together. 

Wanting the zoetrope to sit roughly at eye level, we made the plinth quite tall. In retrospect, I perhaps would have made the plinth shorter, as while me and Dan are quite tall, this makes the work slightly taller than I think is accessible for the average individual.

After this first session we agreed to meet again on the 7th of May, and construct the internal structure for the plinth that would allow the zoetrope to spin. This was a simple mechanism made of timber, that holds the zoetrope dowel steady, while allowing it to spin.

Using forstner drill bits in varying sizes, first drilled a hole in the base of the internal mechanism to hold the dowel in place. The internal mechanism would be drilled down onto a centre cross beam, acting as a butt to the dowl. 

Secondly we drilled a hole through the top of the mechanism, which would further stabilize the dowel- while allowing it to spin. Finally then we drilled a hole through the lid of the plinth, that would allow the zoetrope to protrude out of the top of the plinth.

Kostas suggested at this stage also apply carbon powder to the mechanisms, as this would help reduce friction between the moving wooden parts, so I was tasked with sanding down a graphite stick to produce a carbon powder that we could use.

Lining up this internal mechanism was one of the trickiest parts of the process, and we realized that the slight discrepancies in the measurement of the lid were too large to work around. At this stage Dan suggested we use a larger piece of MDF, cut the hole for the dowl to exit- line everything up, and then use a hand held cutting tool to cut exactly round the edge. While completing this stage however, the drill bit broke and needed replacing, so finishing off the construction had to wait until the following week.

On Tuesday 11th of May, I went into the 3D workshops and Dan had been able to complete the process of cutting the lid, and the plinth was now ready to be fully secured, as we knew it all lined up, screwing the lid down, and filling any small imperfections. Once filled, I would be able to come in and paint the plinth. Dan filled the plinth for me on Wednesday, allowing it to dry overnight, and I returned on Thursday 13th to paint the final structure.

On Thursday I was able to paint the plinth using a matt emulsion and finish assembling the zoetrope, and see the final result.

 While this was quite a long process of building the plinth, interrupted with technical hiccups, overall I’m really glad I spent the time using the 3D workshops and the laser cutter to construct a piece that is much more refined.

There are a few technical issues with the zoetrope itself, for instance, the double sided tape Kostas and I initially used to secure the card to the MDF elements of the cylinder, peeled away while the zoetrope was in the studios- and this meant the card got slightly creased in places. If I were going to repeat the process, I would either use a material like plastic- which would prevent creases, or I would use a material like super or hot glue to secure the card to the MDF more securely.

The plinth itself is also very large, which will make moving it quite challenging in the future. I think if I was going to repeat this construction process again I would actually construct a much smaller spinning device - like a lazy susan-  which the Zoetrope could sit on top of, rather than a large plint as this would be much more manageable and give more options for presentation.

#SP4

[sylvia5308760]

Week 7 - Foam Model Making

PART 1: Construct your profile templates

Image 1 of figure 1: Being a design with a simple front and side faces I found it easy to draw out a orthographic drawing. I was able to easily visualize the faces using the cut-outs on paper. Transferring this onto thin cardboard made it solid and easy to work with when marking out each side.

PART 2: Cut out blocks of foam blocks (blanks) from which to sculpt your bottle

Figure 1: When working with the blue foam I used a portable workbench outside. This was effective as I was able to be more aggressive with the material without worrying about the mess. To clean up I used a old vacuum cleaner and a brush to remove dust and excess material off my tools and workbench. wore a mask to prevent the inhalation of dust.

This stage of the design process was quite fiddly. I used a variety of different tools to see which one would create a better cut. Initially, I used a large hack saw, unfortunate the blade was dirty from previous projects, next time when I use this tool I will either replace the blade with a new one or clean it. Overall this was a somewhat effective tool so in combination with a utility knife. I got a pretty uneven finish but this was okay as I could easily rough in the shape of the bottle and therefore get rid of unflattering sides.

PART 3: Rough-in your bottle form 

Figure 2: I was able to rough in a mark out the sides using a pencil which dented into the foam. I used these lines as a guideline to where I needed to remove or leave the material. During this stage of the foam building, I was able to add more details and features which I did not visualize originally. While working with a physical object in my hands I was able to change the shape from the original stencil and adjust my concept as I was now able to feel it fit in my hand. 

PART 4. Refine your bottle form

Figure 2: This part of the making I thoroughly enjoyed, gave me a sense of achievement as I literally saw an idea which developed in my mind slowly transform into a three-dimensional form. I tried to get more aggressive with the material using a range of different tools and see how each they react with the material. 

I used different tools for different tasks:

        (1) Triangle file: Used to etch in sharp edges

        (2) Semi-circular file: Flat side of file was used to remove large amounts of material at an angle

        (3) 80 grit sandpaper: Used to remove material and give edges a smoother finish

        (4) 120 grit sandpaper: Used to smooth offsides, edges and corners further. Used to create a sense of radius control of edges and avoid boxy foamie.

Overall using a larger variety of tools allowed me to have a better and nicer finish.

Figure 3: In these images, I used a variety of different tools to cut and hollow out the sections of my foam bottle. I used a pencil to outline the section. To create this negative space I resorted to used sandpaper and a sand stick in a different way. I taped the strip of sandpaper onto the end of the stick (5) which allowed me to sand out perfectly 90-degree edges and corners. 

I was happy with my exploration of more unique uses of tools to fix my issue but ultimately the foam was quite chipped and ugly. I figured out that this depends on which direction on moved the sandpaper. I will differently be keeping this in mind when creating future models out of foam.

Figure 4: Using the same techniques in PART 3 and PART 4 I was able to rough in the shape of the lid and smooth it out with sandpaper. Makes the soft curves or the lid was very therapeutic as the amount of material the sandpaper removed was extremely satisfying. 

From looking at other student’s work from other years and online I noticed people use materials such as toothpicks to connect and combined elements of blue foam together without using glue. This overall saved a lot of time which would have been spent waiting for glue to dry. This is also an effective trick if I was deciding on different lid designs, I would be able to remove and replace the lids when necessary.

Video 1: Creating a short video showing all the views is a good way to express my ideas. Personally, I feel like it is difficult to show a three-dimensional model only through pictures, a video gives a better understanding to the viewer of the essence of the form, the relationship of the model and the hand and the material flow.

Video 1: Final blue foam model

PART 4: Post Class Activity

Figure 5: As recommend by Rob I purchased a multi-purpose interior filler to coat my final model with. To apply the filler I used my fingers and water to thin out the material and easily cover my model. I finished off with a paintbrush for a smoother coat. I used light sandpaper (120 grit) to create a smooth and clean finish. 

This was a great way to cover holes and scratches which appeared during the modelling process. I only used one thin coat and sanded it down once dried. Sanding it down removed lots of the material. Now I know for next time to use multiple thinner layers to not have this problem again.

Overall this week’s task was a great introduction to the ideas of foam modelling and it has shown me on how I can improve (such as using more tools and being more open-minded). My result was pretty good for a first attempt and for a sketch model I work on it for 1.5 hours. When drawing you don't really release elements with work in a real three-dimensional environment. Modelling allows you to see the design in real life and modify or adjust it so it works better, this is something you can’t achieve with sketching alone.

The modelling allowed me to see how it would look in a suitable environment. It allowed me to answer the question of how the curves would interact with my hand. When I released that the edges were too sharp I was able to round them off to make it feel more comfortable and safer in my hand.

If I was to do this again I would try creating a more organic shaped bottle to see what tools I can make to achieve each unique task. I would also try to use better cutting tools such as a smaller hack saw to create cleaner cuts.

#ides1262 2020 week7 #ides1262

[glitchinthesystemspiderbyte]

[7] Glitch in the System - Cold (Secret Part 2)

By K. A snug happens.

–

The mission - if she could call it that - went well.

Widowmaker took her time traversing the network of halls which comprised the Venetian estate, reacquainting herself with gilded wallpaper and sun-bleached paintings as she recounted with transient curiosity the vaguery of the assignment. Akande had presented a handful of targets residing temporarily in and just beyond the city, requesting she keep tabs on them. She scoffed at first; it seemed too easy, like a job suited to a lesser operative - one with a less specialized, less lethal skillset. Doomfist claimed the contrary - that a common agent couldn’t guarantee the degree of secrecy and tactical precision required of the job.

She accepted - as if there were a choice - and spent the ensuing two weeks amongst the rooftops of Venice, navigating shadows with ease and reporting to her superior all the minutiae of their days. Among the targets she recognized one: the omnic Maximilian, a member of Talon’s governing council. From this, she drew her own conclusion: this was, at least in part, internal surveillance - hence Akande’s emphatic request for delicacy.

It was certainly a curious endeavor, but Widowmaker was not particularly inclined toward speculation. She did her job and did it well; nothing else mattered.

As she slid through the unlocked door to her suite and tossed her rucksack aside, the sniper noticed immediately that something was off - a small detail, like a crooked painting or the absence of dust where its accumulation should be. Widowmaker cast a long, slow glance over the room, scrutinizing its contents in search of the offending something. At first glance, everything seemed as she left it: the meticulously turned-down bed, the stack of books at the edge of a polished coffee table reflecting the mid afternoon sun, the otherwise spartan desk supporting a computer and a single-serve self-heating teapot settled carefully in its cradle.

Ah.

There, between the computer and teapot, was the intrusive thing: a standard manila folder, plain but for a small note taped to it, thrown haphazardly on the desk.

She didn’t need to look at the note to know who it was from; only one person in all of Talon possessed the gall to barge into her room both uninvited and unannounced. Still, the slender woman crossed the room, tossing her coat onto the bed as she passed. Resting on her hands, Widowmaker leaned over the desk and pursed her lips as she read the note fastened to the folder:

Araña. You’re not going to like this. I’m sorry. -S

Hours passed, unnoticed and unheeded save for the seconds required for Widowmaker, belatedly acknowledging the onset of nighttime hours after its arrival, to turn on her bedside lamp. The warm glow illuminated her bedside, its surface strewn with the contents of the dossier Sombra left her, the means of delivery markedly unceremonious given its contents. Written reports, photographs, electrocardiograph printouts, CAT scans and MRI results - these scraps comprised a tapestry woven from nearly a decade’s materials, its individual parts, held at a distance, forming a narrative of the thing she now glimpsed in the mirror, from conception through construction.

There had always been missing pieces; the invasiveness and sheer extent of the work required to transform Amélie Lacroix into Widowmaker necessitated them. From the construction of neural frameworks to the implementation of cognitive checks and balances to the manipulation of the circulatory system to slow the heart - it all comprised a minefield of missing time that she now realized was concurrent with her dwindling ability to connect with the world revolving around her. Talon used these gaps as cover for their attempts at emotional suppression and psychological reprogramming, leveraging blissful unconsciousness as a failsafe in the creation of their perfect living weapon. What she had always attributed to mourning, to the graduating emptiness born of loss and its slow decay into numbness, she now realized was the new normal by which Talon programmed her to function.

Her memories, however - her kidnapping, the two weeks of of electroshock torture and stimulus/response experiments, Gérard - they remained, unadulterated and ineffaceable. Now, staring down the barrel of the truth, she wished they’d taken those from her, too.

She remembered, and with perfect clarity. She simply wasn’t allowed to care.

An hour later, she knocked on the oaken door before her after only ten minutes’ hesitation, rapping thin knuckles against its surface in mechanical increments once, twice, three times.

She waited, idly smoothing the hem of her silk robe. Silence.

She knocked again.

A groan arose from the room beyond, followed by footsteps and the metal-against-metal grating of locks in quick succession. Sombra opened the door, tired-eyed and glowering. “What?” she asked, biting back whatever castigation followed as recognition dawned on her features. “You’re back,” she observed lamely, stepping aside to allow the taller woman entrance as she tugged the edge of her over-long tee shirt further over otherwise bare legs. “Come on.”

Widowmaker obeyed, stepping wordlessly inside. Exhaustion filled the hollows where others would demonstrate feeling; it was evident in her gaze, far-away and heavy-lidded, and in the unusual heaviness that clung to her every move as she crossed the room.

“You read it?” Sombra asked as she sat on the edge of her bed, brows canted with a mix of concern and curiosity. The sniper only nodded, inclining her head in a silent affirmation that, like the folder in which it was delivered, seemed ironically underwhelming for a revelation of its magnitude. “That’s some shit, huh?”

Widowmaker didn’t respond. Instead, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared fixedly at some far-off point beyond the walls of the compound. “Some shit” was egregiously reductive, but try as she might, she couldn’t even conjure her usual passive irritation with the other woman. All there was was void, as there had always been - only, now she was aware of it and its innate unnaturalness.

“Some shit,” she parroted at last, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sombra bit her lip and searched clumsily for something - anything to offer her. This was far beyond her area of expertise, and she wagered that all the empathy and understanding in the world wouldn’t allow her any insight into what the assassin was thinking.  

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “Is there anything I can do?”

Widowmaker shook her head.

The shorter woman glanced about the room, searching its darkened corners as if they would, if looked at in just the right way, offer a solution. She knew that this, like any network of backdoors, required finesse and careful navigation; one misstep and it could be the end of everything. Then, she recalled with clarity a younger version of herself: a castaway in Dorado perched at the edge of another’s bed, hand in hand, clinging to the hope the person beside her would be an anchor in a world that didn’t want her - even if only for a time.

Without a word, she slid a hand between the other woman’s interlaced fingers, willing herself to ignore the strange chill of her touch. Widowmaker visibly tensed at the contact, her suspicion almost palpable as she glanced sideways at the hacker.

“You want to crash here?” Sombra asked tentatively, risking the sanctity of their silence in favor of outreach. “Might be good, not being alone.”

Widowmaker scoffed, relinquishing her grip at the suggestion. “Yes, a slumber party will do wonders, I’m sure,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

Sombra frowned. “Look, I don’t get your shit and I’m not going to pretend I ever could, but I get shit. If you’re going to sit with it, don’t do it alone.”

The sniper narrowed golden eyes, looking for some unspoken subtext beneath her colleague’s insistence: a lie or another line of double-speak Sombra was so fond of employing. Her tiredness returned as she found nothing, resigning herself to the possibility the spy was being sincere. She sighed.

“You gonna’ crash or what?” Sombra asked, looking over the her colleague’s shoulder to the digital clock widget tucked into the corner of her wall-length holographic interface - a strange juxtaposition against the estate’s antiquity. “It’s late and you look like shit.”

“I feel like shit,” Widowmaker replied.

“So, stay,” the hacker said, crossing the floor to a long, velveteen chaise adjacent the wall display - another clash of Renaissance lushness and streamlined, neon modernity. “I got work to do, but make yourself at home. Sleep. Or whatever it is you do.” She sat lightly, folding her legs beneath herself as a mosaic of windows splashed across the hard light screen before her.

Widowmaker, curling into sheets the coolness of which she couldn’t feel, offered no reply beyond her own acquiescence. As the minutes ticked into an hour, then two, she lay in silence, unbroken but for the occasional sound of footsteps beyond the door and the constant thrum of Toulouse’s purring beneath the bed. Her thoughts blended together in increments, forming an impenetrable, roaring maelstrom whose composite parts she could no longer identify amidst the fray.

What was she supposed to do? What could she do? Even if she left, even if she ran to the farthest ends of the earth, she would always be Widowmaker, and there was no place in the world that would be safe - not for her and certainly not for anyone else. She was the embodiment of the cautionary loaded gun story; left in the open, to her own devices, there was no telling who’d find themselves accidentally at the wrong end of her innately lethal existence.

At least Talon knew where to point her.

From time to time, Sombra risked a sideways glance to the bed, noting how strangely small the other woman, usually an imposing presence, appeared. Widowmaker was a predator: a lean, remorseless killing machine, poised and unwavering and as assured as the sunrise; this woman, burrowed in a nest of sheets, was none of those things. She was pitiful, a shade of a human whose personhood the hacker wasn’t certain could ever be fully restored.

Another hour passed, during which Sombra became pointedly aware of the pair of eyes on her - piercing, unflinching gold she could have easily mistaken as unblinking beneath the assassin’s tousled hair.

She stood and cleared the space between the chaise and her bed, approaching with all the measured caution one would a wild cat. Appropriately, Widowmaker followed her movement across the room, the slow drift of her gaze the sole acknowledgement she offered as the other woman approached.

“You need anything?” Sombra asked, nearly setting a hand on her shoulder before reflexively pulling away. The sniper stopped her, catching her wrist in a single, sharp motion.

“Stay,” she muttered, lifting her eyes to meet the hacker’s. “A moment.”

Sombra snorted, dismissing the softness of the gesture to countermand its gravity. “What, you want to snuggle now?” she scoffed.

“Oui.”

“Oh,” the hacker paused, swallowing the laugh that almost slipped past her lips. “Really?”

Widowmaker, equally uncertain, opened and closed her mouth as she attempted to transmute thought to speech. “I would like to not be alone right now,” she said slowly, as unfamiliar with both the words themselves and the sentiment informing them. “Please.”

She gently tightened her grip on Sombra’s wrist, a sad attempt at conveying her own sincerity. There were no words to reinforce the request the way she needed them to, no language to convey how deafening her own mind was becoming and the weight with which it was bearing down upon her. All she had was that one, pitiful word - “please” - and this singular physical gesture.

Sombra clucked her tongue, feigning inconvenience. “All right,” she shrugged, crawling into bed behind the other woman. “But I’m the big spoon,” she insisted, pressing herself flush against the curve of her back before tugging the duvet over both of them.

“This okay?” she asked. Widowmaker’s sole reply was a soft grunt, barely audible as the hacker listened with almost clinical interest to the metronomic beating of the assassin’s heart in her ear.

“Hey, araña?” she asked after a spell.

“Quoi?”

“I’m sorry.”

Widowmaker shifted, indelicately seeking out Sombra’s hand with her own and tugging her closer, draping the hacker’s arm over her waist in the process.

“I know.”

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic

#spiderbyte #sombra x widowmaker #widowmaker x sombra #sombramaker #widowsombra #overwatch #sombra #widowmaker #fanfic #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fandom #glitch in the system #glitchfic #amélie lacroix

[vilevenom]

Part 3! I won’t lie, I fully expected this to be a short ass fic, but then it sort of spiraled out of my control. Fandom: Mystery Skulls Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 4 Vampire!Arthur

Arthur sighed as he stepped out of the shower, hair dripping on his shoulders. He’d completely forgotten about the bandages on his shoulder in his haste to get under the water and away from the mirror, and now they were soaked through and needed to be changed. Mind, he couldn’t do it himself so he’d only have to pester Lewis and Vivi further than he already had by getting one of them to help him with that, given that the fine motor functions of his prosthetic were still shot. He scowled as he haphazardly pulled his sweat pants back on, turning to glance at himself in the mirror once more. He looked even more bedraggled with his hair drooping around his face and his hospital bandages peeling at the edges were the tape no longer held from moisture. He paused for a moment, though, a sudden thought striking him. Hadn’t the vampire also dug into his sides? The memories were blurry at best, really, but he could vaguely recall the sensation of his stomach being torn into. He took a short step back to get a better view of himself in the mirror, examining his torso to see what damage had been left behind, only to find the barest hints of jagged scarring just below his ribs. Quickly, and mindless of the fact that it wasn’t functioning properly quite yet, Arthur reattached his prosthetic, hissing mildly as the nerves reconnected, before scrambling to peel off the ruined bandages. He gaped as he let them hit the floor with a soft squelching sound, lifting his hand shakily to touch his neck and shoulder, no evidence of his attack being left but a spiderweb of light marks were his skin knit itself back together. Arthur twisted and turned as he stared in the mirror, but if someone didn’t know he had been in the hospital, they never would be able to tell. It was almost as though two nights previous had never even happened. A sudden rapping on the bathroom door startled him out of his shell-shocked staring, causing a slight growl to leave his throat as he jerked away from the sound. He clamped his hand over his mouth directly after the sound left him, a quiet whine leaving him instead. Another, more insistent rap came, followed by Vivi’s voice asking him to come out, making Arthur straighten his spine and clear his throat. “Just a sec,” he called back, shooting one last glance at the mirror, eyeing the nearly completely healed wounds and tiny sparks that jumped from his prosthetic as it twitched slightly at his side. He looked a mess, but it wouldn’t be the first time Vivi saw him out of sorts. He hadn’t really been expecting Vivi, Lewis, and Mystery to be huddled outside the door, though. “Uh...hi,” he said simply, pursing his lips as the three did little but stare at him, “You-you knocked?” “Right! Sorry, Artie, just-your shoulder,” Vivi murmured, gesturing vaguely at his scars. “Yeah, I, I-uhm, was noticing that, too,” Arthur replied, shrugging slightly and shrinking into himself a little, “Did you guys need something? I was going to go work on my arm,” he added, lifting his prosthetic in short, jerky movements. “Sorry for staring, Arthur,” Lewis apologized, looking contrite, “We knew you were healing faster, that was just unexpected.” “You’re telling me,” Arthur snorted, before looking slightly bashful as Mystery nudged at his legs and shooting him a short glare, “Anyway, but really, what’s up?” “Oh! Yes, right,” Vivi suddenly sprung into action, thrusting a rather thick book forward into Arthur’s line of sight, open to a page with a rather graphic depiction of a demon eating a person in black and red ink and a massive sprawl of text next to it, “Mystery found this!” Arthur continued to stare down the book for a moment, his eyes skimming over the tiny text, a light frown on his face. “Uh, can I get the abridged version?” “You’re not a vampire yet,” Lewis stated, tiny smile on his face as both Vivi and Mystery took deep breaths, obviously amping up to bombard Arthur with information. “The vampire that bit you didn’t kill you or feed anything to you, so the turning ritual wasn’t completed.” “Way to steal my thunder, Lewlew,” Vivi pouted, snapping the book closed and tucking it under her arm. “I figured a more concise version would be best,” Lewis chuckled, “But, regardless. We’ve already found a couple tracking spells we can try to find the vampire that bit you. It’s got a couple days on us, but with some supernatural help, we should be able to find it.” “And once we do...?” Arthur asked, absently grabbing at his prosthetic. Nervous habits were hard to kick. “Well,” Mystery stepped in,this time cutting Lewis off, “then it’s simply a matter of a decapitation and a stake through the heart. Contrary to popular culture, any type of stake will do, as long as the heart is pierced.” “Decapitation?” Arthur wheezed, his hand instinctively going to his neck. “It’s the best way to ensure the vampire can’t regenerate while we stake it. I know Buffy makes it seem like it’s really easy to do so, but a sternum is rather difficult to stab. It’s going to take some force,” Mystery stated bluntly. “So, what we’re trying to say, Artie,” Vivi piped up, grinning widely at Arthur, “There’s a cure! So to speak...I know you, and that you’re probably letting your brain go to all sorts of terrible places, so you need to know that none of those things are going to happen. We’re going to track that thing down and kill it, and everything can go back to normal.” Arthur glanced at Lewis, who offered a small smile of encouragement and a nod, before he looked back to Vivi and gave a slow nod. “Okay.” ~ Vivi had made the spell sound a whole lot easier than it really was, given some of the ingredients it required. “Don’t...move,” Arthur gasped, wobbling a little as he was held in the air by Lewis, tiny jar in his hand as he eyed the spider resting obliviously in its web. “I’m trying, Arthur,” Lewis grumbled, doing his best not to shudder at how close they were to the arachnid. In reality it probably would have been ten times easier for him to float up to the corner of the room and capture the spider, rather than him holding Arthur up by the waist so the mechanic could catch it, but even in death he couldn’t stand the tiny eight legged creatures. So, here they were. “Got it!” Arthur suddenly exclaimed, screwing a lid onto the jar with a triumphant, if tiny, smile on his lips. “Good,” Lewis sighed, setting Arthur back on the floor, a slight shudder running through him as he glanced at the spider crawling frantically around the glass bottom of the jar. “Ugh. I don’t know how you can be so nonchalant holding that thing.” Arthur chuckled quietly, ever subdued around Lewis since he came back, “Because. It’s just a spider, Lew. You’re a fire toting ghost. I really don’t know how a tiny little, defenseless spider can still bother you.” To illustrate, he held the jar up and gave it a gentle shake, the spider skittering around to keep its balance. “Hey now, don’t do that,” Lewis admonished, placing a hand over Arthur’s to keep it still so the spider could regain its balance, “it may be gross and about to be part of a spell, but you don’t need to torment it before hand.” That gave Arthur pause, Lewis frowning as he noticed the sudden far away look on Arthur’s face. “Did the spell say it had to be a live spider?” Arthur asked after a moment, staring at Lewis’ large hand covering his own. It took Lewis a second longer to realize why Arthur had stopped and looked so distant, his heart giving a painful beat beneath his jacket. It may have only been a spider, but Lewis knew that Arthur was drawing correlation between himself and the helpless arachnid currently in their possession. Too many times he’d had to run in just before Arthur was used as a prop for some cult’s ritual, or help Vivi cast a spell to free Arthur before anything untoward could happen to him. And then he died, and he couldn’t protect Arthur from that green thing that had taken him away from his friends. And now? Now Arthur was, yet again, in danger of some supernatural thing that had decided he was the best target. He supposed it made sense that Arthur would suddenly feel for the spider that they had intended to kill for their own purposes. “No. I don’t think it did,” Lewis hummed quietly, moving to hoist Arthur back up, even as the blonde began to unscrew the lid he’d only just put on the jar. ~ “Okay, Vivi, we’ve got everything from your list,” Lewis said as he floated into the library, Arthur hot on his proverbial heels, “Well, except the spider is already dead. We had a, uhm...incident in the living room, so, yeah. I hope that works.” Arthur shot him a grateful smile, which he returned easily. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine,” Vivi waved a hand, lighting the last of at least a dozen or two candles around the room, “Just set it all down near the circle.” Lewis nodded as he set everything down near the edge of the rug that covered the floorboards of the library, before moving to lift the ornate rug, revealing a large summoning circle painted below. Inside it were several smaller circles, the largest acting as something of a lock to the others. The smaller circles each had different generic symbols painted into them with spaces left for Vivi to chalk in anything specific she would need for her spell casting, while the largest was repainted every couple of months to ensure that any magic or summoning that happened within was restrained and maintained inside to prevent any ‘accidents’ from happening. Mystery had helped with the construction and design, sighting several amateur circles he’d seen far too easily broken in the past. “Alright!” Vivi chirped, clapping her hands together as she looked over the ingredients Arthur and Lewis had brought, “Everything looks to be in order! The only thing left that we need,” she began boisterously, fading into a quiet, apologetic tone, “Is some of your blood, Artie.” That caused Arthur to stop in the middle of grabbing Vivi’s chalk from a shelf, turning to stare at her with wide eyes. “What?” he squeaked. “Well,” Vivi scuffed her toe lightly against the floor, looking abashed, “You’re connected to that thing now, whether we like it or not. And without anything from the actual vampire, we need something as a tether to let us follow it. I’m afraid the only thing that would allow us to do that would be, uhm, some of your blood.” Noticing how Arthur’s face visibly paled, she quickly waved her hands through the air. “Not much! Just a little bit! Just enough to give the spell the kick it needs.” Arthur swallowed thickly, absently rubbing at his prosthetic as he cast his gaze around the room, chewing on his lower lip. Lewis floated nearby, concern evident on his features. “I-” Arthur began, before swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat, “Okay.” Vivi smiled encouragingly at Arthur, grabbing a tiny dagger from a shelf. “Okay, great. I’m just going to go give this a good wash, and then we can get started,” she said, hurrying out of the room. Arthur watched her leave, his mechanical arm twitching at his side. He really needed to do some repairs if he was going to be of any use later. “Hey.” Arthur jumped as Lewis spoke next to him, turning startled eyes towards the ghost. Lewis set his feet on the floor, walking over to Arthur to place a reassuring hand on his left shoulder. “You’ll be okay, Arthur. It’s Vivi. And, once your part is over, we can get your something to eat, yeah? I’ll make you something,” Lewis said, letting his hand slide to gently squeeze the back of Arthur’s neck, “Then you can go work on your arm, okay? Vivi and I will need time to plot out our root once the vampire is located.” Arthur shuddered slightly at Lewis’ strangely cool but warm touched moved to his neck, giving a tiny nod as Vivi came back into the room, a look of determination on her face. “That sounds good,” he murmured, eyes moving to the tiny glint of metal in Vivi’s hand. “Come on, Artie,” Lewis sighed, turning the blonde bodily in his direction as Vivi began to set up the spell, “Look at me.” Arthur obeyed after a moment, his breath slightly shallow as he focused on Lewis’ chin, still not quite able to look the other in the eyes, the black and magenta of Lewis’ eyes often the center of nightmares that still plagued him on occasion. Not that he ever blamed Lewis, but having been chased down by a flaming specter while looking for your best friend hadn’t exactly been a highlight of Arthur’s life. Lewis sighed quietly, tipping Arthur’s chin up, forcing the blonde to meet his gaze. He could see the way Arthur’s adams apple bobbed with nerves as he began to tremble under Lewis’ hands. “You’re going to be fine, Arthur. Everything is going to be fine. Take deep breaths, okay? In for seven, out for five. With my count, Arthur. One-” Lewis had helped Arthur through panic attacks many a time, breathing deep with the blonde to help calm him. He couldn’t recall a time since he’d died, though. It didn’t help that he no longer needed to breath, so Vivi had been the one to do it the last few times Arthur had begun to panic. But, now with Vivi busy and Mystery having disappeared at some point, it was up to him. He supposed keeping tempo was like counting breaths, so in a pinch he supposed it would do. But Arthur’s breath wasn’t evening out and he could feel how the blonde was beginning to tremble harder beneath his hands. Lewis finished his count, a light frown on his face as Arthur’s gaze skittered away from his to focus over his shoulder, the blonde obviously trying to control his breathing but failing miserably. It was then a sudden idea struck Lewis, releasing Arthur to dig into his jacket. He pulled his locket free, and pressed it into Arthur’s chest, making the blonde jump yet again, his eyes wide as he looked down at the glowing heart beating against his chest. Lewis took Arthur’s hand and placed it over the locket, forcing Arthur to fold it in place. “Focus, Arthur,” Lewis stated, replacing his hands on the blondes shoulders, “Focus on the beats, okay? Slow your breathing, and try to sync up with it, alright? I know you can do it.” After a minute or so, Arthur’s shoulders slumped as he stared down at the golden heart on his chest, his breath finally evening out as he relaxed. “Good,” Lewis hummed happily, stroking his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “Thanks, Lewis,” Arthur murmured quietly, hugging the locket more closely to himself as his eyes slid shut, letting himself enjoy the simple comfort he was being offered. “Anytime, Artie.”

#mystery skulls animated #arthur kingsmen #lewis pepper #vivi #vampire!arthur #things that i wrote

[garden-of-succulents]

Time for more BITTYPOOTS AU, meaning the story @gutsybitsy and I are working on where Jack is the tormented audience to Bitty and Poots’ unhappy and unsatisfying relationship (Original post / fic tag). NOW FEATURING: established relationship Patater and excerpts from Bitty’s twitter!

(Also accidental outing to a safe/sympathetic audience, and gay gossip.)

Away games in Las Vegas have gotten a lot easier these days. During his rookie year, they meant pitched arguments with Kent that lasted hours and left them both exhausted in the morning. After Kent broke up with him, they meant a couple years of holing up early in his hotel room and eating room service while watching tape.

But now Las Vegas trips are, quite tentatively... nice.

Somehow the crucible of two Stanley Cup finals against each other in the last four years have left the Falcs and Aces with a permanent rivalry that is enthusiastic, respectful, warm, and friendly. It could so easily have been bitter--but if Jack were to name a single factor that turned the tide, it was Tater's defection to Vegas. You couldn't quite hate a man who skated over during breaks and asked how your children liked their birthday presents, who complimented you on your improved form and laughed about your inability to score on his goalie, and then laughed again when you did before putting his head down and putting all his energies to beating your pants off. Tater's shoulders are broad enough to carry all of the game's spirit, its pettiness and nobility, its competition and comradeship--and Kent, the burden of the C removed from him by Tater's presence, began finding it easier to be magnanimous in victory, graceful in defeat.

And the two of them know Jack doesn't like big parties, so they leave Tater's other A to lead the grand night out with the Falcs and whisk Jack away to a quiet dinner at their apartment instead.

Jack indulges in a beer while Kent grills steak on the balcony and Tater uses a feather toy to make the cat run laps around the living room. He's relaxed, amused, comfortable, and his worries and concerns ease up enough to spill out past his lips.

"There's this guy I know," he says, picking at the label on his bottle. "He has this boyfriend who's... really nice. But they're not out, right, and I'm the only one who knows, so they kinda talk to me about it? And..." He wrinkles his nose as the label comes off imperfectly, then licks his thumb and starts rubbing at the ragged edges. "He complains about his boyfriend. Clingy, embarrassing, needy... because he does things like pack lunches or text him for no reason. I just wanna tell him to smarten right up and stop being so ungrateful."

"Fuck yeah," Kent sings from the grill. "I want someone who packs me lunches."

"He wants not me to pack him lunches," Tater says, flicking the cat toy.

"The gods are jealous of perfection, kotyenok. We all have our flaws." Kent puts down the sauce brush and closes the lid on the barbecue again, then comes back in to throw himself onto the arm of the chair Tater's sitting in. Tater's arm comes around his waist to steady him.

"I just--" Jack covers his face with one hand. "I talk to the boyfriend too. He was really happy the other week because he got an anniversary present, and I had to shut up because I was so close to telling him his boyfriend bought it at the last minute in an airport gift shop. Because I told him to. Because he said, 'I can't go out tonight, it's our six-month anniversary and he's making dinner' and I asked what he got as a present and he said, 'You think I should get something?'" Jack gestures, helplessly. "I know I'm not good at this stuff, so how much worse is he?"

"Terrible, obviously," Kent says. "My love, could you assemble the salad?"

"Oh, you trust me with salad now!" Tater grumbles, but he gets up and moves to the kitchen. When Jack gestures, Kent passes him the cat toy, and Jack tries to figure out why Kit Purrson will do backflips for Tater, but ignore him when he tries to do the exact same thing.

After they've demolished half a cow and a small Irish town's supply of potatoes, plus some salad on the side, Kent leans back in his seat and says, "Tell you what, Tates. Let's seduce Fitzgerald's poor boyfriend out from under him."

Tater's making some rumbling noise about that being a good idea while Jack sits bolt upright. "It's not--!" he says. "I didn't say who it was. You don't know it's Fitzgerald."

"Yes, I do," Kent says calmly.

"Elementary deduction," Tater chimes in.

"Someone you spend a lot of time with," Kent says, ticking points off on his fingers. "That you put up with even when he annoys you. That's only someone on your team. Six Falconers are single, and Fitzgerald--what do you guys call him?"

"Poots," Jack says, miserably unable to stop them.

"Poots? Well, anyway--Poots is the only one on your line, and only one of two under 20; Marks came straight out of Juniors, while Poots came out of Gaytopia U."

“It could be--one of the trainers, or--”

Kent swats that away. “The only new hires you guys have made this year have been female. Try another one.”

"You play good with him on ice," Tater contributes. "He is happy to sit next to you when he comes to bench, but when he is the one sitting, you choose somewhere else."

Jack stares at Tater, mouth agape. One, not even he noticed that; two, Tater has a fucking hockey game to play while that kind of thing is happening. Where does he get off paying that kind of attention?

"Some people follow sports," Tater shrugs. "We follow you love life."

"Well you must be bored then," Jack snaps.

"Fuckin' right we are," Kent yawns. "This is the most excitement we've had since Collins left for England."

"I won't confirm or deny anything," Jack says, and the hand with Tater's phone in it bumps Kent's arm. Kent looks down.

"Oh damn, he's cute," Kent says.

Jack's eyebrows furrow. "Poots?"

"Eric Bittle," Kent replies, and Jack's stomach turns to ice. "Oh, don't look like that, Zimmermann. You're talking to two of the most closeted people in the sport. You haven't come out because you've had a sad-sack social life, but we haven't come out because we have people to protect. We're only gossip-mongers like this when we're around you, because it's so fucking nice to not be alone for once."

Jack's mouth twists, and he looks away.

"Very cute tweet from last week," Tater says. "'That feeling when you have the cutest boyfriend in the room.' And a little heart."

"Not hard to find if you know what you're looking for," Kent says, scrolling through Tater's phone. "Your guy's got 30k Twitter followers, follows 22 people in return. Eleven are Falconers, four are official feeds, three are girls, two are guys in Toronto, one's a guy backpacking through Asia, and one is Eric R. Bittle in Boston."

"You're just constructing a theory--" Jack tries again.

"New tweet," Tater says. "Just posted. 'Is it really too needy to want to cuddle?'"

Jack can't help scowling, and Kent says sardonically, "Tell me how I'm making shit up again."

Jack rubs his face with his hands again, and says equivocally, "He deserves so much better."

"We steal him," Tater says calmly. "Make him happy with us."

"You can't do that!" Jack retorts, nettled. "Look, you two, leave it alone. He doesn't need your nonsense."

"Nonsense," Kent says to Tater.

"No, I mean it! He's a nice guy and it won't help to get pulled into your stupid sex shenanigans, he doesn't need you two, he needs someone stable, someone steady--"

"We have shenanigan?" Tater asks Kent.

"No babe, we got tested by the clinic, we're clean."

Jack makes a frustrated noise, and pitches a napkin at them. It lands unsatisfyingly short of either man. "Stop it."

"I don't hear you calling dibs," Kent says archly.

"Dibs," Jack retorts. "Dibs, dibs, dibs. Leave him alone."

The moment he says it a smile blossoms across Kent's face, like Jack's sprung a trap. He scowls fiercely back. "You like him," Kent says, delighted.

"So what if I do? He's taken. And it's none of your business."

"All right," Kent says, but he concedes like it's a victory, grinning to himself as he nestles into Tater's side. "Just remember, Zimms. He might not stay taken forever."

"I... have something to confess," Jack says awkwardly, while they watch Poots at the billiards table. So long as they keep their heads close together, they're muffled by the overall noise of the bar. "I told two friends about you and James? I tried to stay general, 'a guy I know', but they figured out who it was. They won't tell anybody, but they know, and I'm sorry that I kind of outed you."

Bittle gives him a brief frightened-rabbit look, then bites his lip and watches his boyfriend thoughtfully for a minute. Then he turns back to Jack. "You trust them?"

Jack nods, then leans into add, "It's my ex and his boyfriend. And if you ever want to leave James for an NHL captain, um... apparently that's a possibility."

Bittle blinks at him again, looking astonished and absolutely edible, then says, "Your ex is an NHL captain?"

Jack grins uncertainly. "Yes?"

Bittle blinks those enormous eyes a time or two, and looks over at his boyfriend with a smile spreading across his face. He looks back to Jack once, for another second disbelieving, but Jack pastes on a smile and nods, and Bittle's features relax with relief and joy. He knocks his shoulder against Jack's in a friendly way, then turns and asks, "Can I tell James?"

"Sure you can."

"God, maybe it'll help to know he's... not alone," Bittle says, and reaches out for his beer. "Make him relax."

"Anything to help the two of you," Jack says loyally, and reaches out for his glass of water to hide his expression.

#bittypoots au #patater #kent parson #stuff i wrote #fannish synergy

[eventlawyer77-blog]

5 Eyeliner Hacks That Helped Me Nail a Perfect Cat-Eye

It’s no secret that I tend to have a little bit of trouble when it comes to crafting a cat-eye look. Usually I can manage to keep my hand still enough to draw a straight line across my eyelid, but when it comes to getting that end flick just right, it’s pretty much impossible. Despite my best efforts, my flicks either end up way too far from my lash line, or way thicker than intended (a la Amy Winehouse).

Thankfully, since we live in the Internet age, I had no trouble finding online hacks that promised to help me perfect the flick once and for all. Many of the winged liner hacks I found were a little bizarre, but I found five that are definitely worth testing for yourself.

1. I used a business card for the perfect wing.

Cristina Cianci

As I definitely don’t hand out business cards as frequently as I should, there’s a stack that sits on my desk just waiting to be used. With their straight edges and sturdy construction, business cards make for a great assist on the journey to an expert-level wing. After trying this hack out, I realized that keeping business cards at the ready serve a dual purpose: an easy way to network with new people and a quick tool for drawing a super precise wing in a hurry.

The technique:

I freehanded a line across my top lid, then lined up a card next to the end of my lash line at angle where I’d want my actual cat-eye to be drawn. Next, I drew an upward stroke against the card that connected to the end of the line on my lid and voila!

2. Scotch tape was fast and effective.

Cristina Cianci

Cristina Cianci

I’ve seen this eyeliner hack a bunch of times while scrolling through beauty sites on the internet, but never attempted to try it until now. To be honest, I was always a little nervous to use tape near my eye area, but also a little curious about how precise my makeup would look if I did.

The technique:

I used two small pieces of tape—one on each eye—and lined each up at an angle next to my lash line. After drawing a line across my eyelids, I used the tape as an excuse to be as messy with my wings as needed (the tape acts as a barrier against any mistakes). Midway through I decided to use two pieces of tape per eye, one near the top lid and one angled at the bottom, filling in the space in between to make my cat-eye. And it worked. After (carefully) peeling off the tape, I have to say my cat-eye look was definitely fire.

3. Starting with dots near my eyelid helped to line up my wings just right.

Cristina Cianci

There have been countless times where I’ve successfully drawn a smooth flick just to look in the mirror and realize one side of my winged liner is higher than the other. With this hack, you start by drawing a dot next to each eye where you want the flick to end. That way you can make sure they look even before you draw the actual wing. It may seem super basic, but drawing these guideline marks really helped me to even out the height of each wing to ensure they were level.

The technique:

Before starting my normal eyeliner routine, I used the tip of my liner pen to draw one dot next to each eye where I wanted the end of each wing to go. I drew up from my lash line to each of the dots. Then, I drew a line across the top of my lid that also connected to each the dots, forming a sort of hollow triangle outline of the wings. Lastly, I filled in my outline to finish off the look.

4. Using a spoon was surprisingly helpful.

Cristina Cianci

I had never thought of using a spoon for winged liner, but after I watched a YouTube video where someone demonstrated the technique, I knew I had to try it. PSA: Using a spoon—I used a plastic one—is a total liquid eyeliner application game-changer. I wouldn’t quite say the process is easy, but it’s certainly effective.

The technique:

I lined up the spoon’s handle at the edge of my lashline and drew an outline of the bottom half of my wing. Next, I placed the spoon scoop side down on the top of my lid, and drew a line across my eye. It definitely felt awkward holding a spoon against my lid and applying liner, but after a while I got the hang of it. Since the section between the beginning of the spoon’s handle and the end of its bowl has a slight curve, it’s easy to follow it to a successful cat-eye. After drawing a line on the top of my lid, the spoon basically did the hard part for me by connecting it with the first line I drew next to my lashes. To finish the look I filled in my wing. The whole thing took all of three minutes.

5. The Vampstamp made achieving a cat-eye fast and simple.

Cristina Cianci

Created by the inventor of my beloved Beautyblender, the Vampstamp is a handy tool made specifically for winged eyeliner styles. All you need is a pot of liquid eyeliner to dip the tool in and a steady hand, and in five minutes or less you’ll have cat-eyes so good actual cats will probably be jealous.

The technique:

After drawing a line across the top of my eyelid I dipped the wing stamp in my eyeliner pot, then hovered near the edge of my lash line to line the tool up properly. Once I decided I liked where it was positioned, I stamped the tool near my eye, which created the curve of a flick. Lastly, I connected my initial line across my eye with the flick and repeated on the opposite side.

Source: https://www.self.com/story/eyeliner-hacks

[montemoutdoorgear1]

5 Essential Survival Hacks Using EDC

EDC (everyday carry), is a term that is gaining steam outside of the survivalist world. The idea used to be relegated to items such as knives, tactical pens, and a fishing kit rolled inside a wad of duct tape. However, as the concept of EDC is becoming more widely adopted, people are finding unique ways to use their real everyday carry to create survivalist equipment on the go.

Before we get started on the hacks, most EDC kits will include a phone (usually a smartphone), a wallet, and a keychain. These will get most people through their everyday life without much hassle.

However, if you haven’t already added to your kit a knife, multi-tool, lighter, and flashlight, you should really consider it. In the unlikely circumstances that you are in a car accident, you don’t want to be hunting around the cab of your car looking for a blade to cut the seatbelt off. It would make sense to get a rain jacket as well, as you never know how the weather will get. 

While this list of 5 essential survival hacks may include a few items you will need to get from the convenience store, these are generally readily available to be used on the fly.

 1. Use Your Watch as a Compass

If you have an analog wristwatch and you’ve lost your way during the day, you can actually use it as an approximate compass if you’re on the northern hemisphere.

All you need to do is hold your watch horizontally and aim the hour hand at the sun.

Then to calculate south, find the halfway point between the hour hand and the twelve o’clock notch. For example, if it’s currently six o’clock, point the hour hand at the sun and south would be approximately at the nine o’clock position.

Keep in mind:

If it’s noon, the south should be lined up if the twelve o’clock notch.

This is approximate because the sun is not always going to be directly south at noon.

2. Use a Battery and a Gum Wrapper to Create Fire

If you haven’t started carrying a small light with you and you find yourself in a situation that requires fire, just remember that you need three elements to create one; heat, fuel, and oxygen. Without one of these three components, you’ll end up struggling to keep your hands warm, boiling water, or cooking food.

While there are a multitude of ways to start a fire without matches, if you have a battery on hand, and a stick of gum with an aluminum wrapper, you are in luck. Cut a small strip of the aluminum wrapper and have it touch both ends of the battery at the same time. The electrical current will flow through the aluminum foil setting it alight.

Keep in mind:

You can use tinfoil

You can use steel wool

This will kill the battery!

3. Create a Stove Out of an Aluminum Can

Now that you can create fire, you can make that cup of coffee with boiled water. Using an aluminum can, you are able to create what is colloquially known as a “hobo stove” so named due to the fact that hobo’s and transients would use these during the Great Depression.

What you’ll need:

A can (soda cans and food preserving tins work well)

Tin snips or wire cutter

Nail and hammer

To start constructing your own hobo stove, use the hammer and nail to puncture holes around the circumference of the top and bottom of the can, and a few holes on the lid that you’ll rest a pot on.

Using the tin snips, cut an opening on the bottom large enough to place the fuel that will feed the fire.

While this is the most basic form of a hobo stove, there is an endless variety in design. There are hobo stoves that have ash stands and ones that use alcohol which will create a jet burner.

Keep in mind:

You’ll likely burn the pot you’re using to cook with

It’s difficult to maintain a constant flame

Boiling water will take some time

While boiling water isn’t as efficient as a water filtering kit, it can save your life in a crunch

4. Super Glue Bandage

If you’re going out for a day hike, you may want to put a small tube of super glue in your kit.

While there are the obvious uses of super glue, being that it sticks things together, the sticky substance can also be used in a medical emergency for a quick fix, until you see proper medical treatment.

This isn’t a new idea, even in World War II military medics ended up using super glue for closing combat wounds!

Be aware, however, that most super glue isn’t intended for medical usage (there is a medicinal version available) but if you have a cut that isn’t a puncture wound then it might be your best bet before you can see a doctor.

Benefits of a super glue suture is that:

It’s quick drying to stop the bleeding

It’s waterproof

It keeps the cut sanitary

5. Soda Can Fish Hook

If you’ve finished your soda during your walk by the lake, you can always use the tab of the can to catch some fish!

This quick hack requires a few items to have on hand:

Pocket knife

Soda can tab

Multi-tool

Thread/ Dental Floss

Needle-nose pliers

Begin by removing the tab from the can. Then you can cut an angled opening on the side of the bottom hole, eventually removing as much metal where the tab now has a “C” shape. The angled cut you started with is the basis of your hook.

You’ll want to use your pliers or the file on your multi-tool make the hook into a point. After that, try to remove any other sharp edges either by filing them down or compressing them with the pliers.

Now that the shape and point of the hook have been made, use your pocket knife to punch a hole on the top of the tab which is where you’ll thread your line.

Another great item to have with you in your EDC kit, is a spool of waxed dental floss, while we could go into the incredible use of using dental floss to open a locked car door, today you’ll use it to go fishing!

With these 5 essential survival hacks using your EDC, you’ll be able to take on any challenge that life might throw at you.

Author Biography

Ben Brown is the owner of The Prepping Guide. Involved in Military for many years and write about Personal Security, Preparedness, Prepping, Survival, Self-Sufficiency, and Readiness for Safety, both Physically and Digitally.

The post 5 Essential Survival Hacks Using EDC appeared first on Montem Outdoor Gear.

from Montem Outdoor Gear https://montemlife.com/5-essential-survival-hacks-using-edc/

[lorenasilvis39-blog]

Benefits Of Wallpaper That You Can’t Disregard

Once you are pleased with the placement of your vinyl, carefully fold the total facet from the centre reduce in your shiny Creglists.Org to the front. Keep this off the wall and meticulously peel the shiny paper absent from the transfer tape/vinyl combo. With this piece however becoming held out from the wall, start off from the centre and maintaining it tight, slide your hand up and down and roll the layout onto the wall. Starting up from the center, employing your software device, firmly go from the middle to the edge building positive that you go about every piece of vinyl underneath. When you are concluded with that side, it's time to go the other facet and repeat this total course of action one particular much more time. If you are fitting lighter forms of tile, these kinds of as cork flooring tiles then there are flooring tile adhesives you can use. You can even purchase spray on floor tile adhesive that can help save you a lot of time. This is well suited for smaller locations or repairs. For more standard properties, they can have the wall painted with personalized designs. Nonetheless, quite a few decide for the simpler technique-putting wallpaper on the walls. A typical substance for inside design, wallpaper is a paper substance that can be used to beautify the interior partitions of rooms, residences, and offices. Wallpapers are readily available in all house improvement stores and are bought in rolls. People can pick between basic wallpaper, which can be painted afterward, or pre-printed kinds with patterns and designs. Lighting is crucial in a basement lavatory considering that most basement bathrooms do not have a window. Increase a lot of gentle to your basement bathroom like a light strip above the mirror will include a good deal of light-weight to a basement toilet. A shiny best gentle that fills the total rest room with light-weight is a very good plan to have in a basement bathroom. Choose a starting up place in the area where your very first strip of wallpaper will match up with the last strip of wallpaper you dangle. Particularly, opt for a corner in a space guiding a door or in close proximity to in which your curtains will hold so that any mismatch will be considerably less noticeable. You want the focal place of your area to have the fewest seams. Use a degree to measure out from your starting off level and attract a vertical straight edge on the wall. This line marks exactly where your 1st strip of wallpaper will be put. Both forms of rugs are pleasant to use as wall coverings. They can blend in with the rooms in your house. They can also be applied to go over up any blemishes on the walls that don't seem interesting to the bare eye. You could also repaint or Creglists.Org, but do you know how considerably time that would get? Hours, yes, a number of hrs of your time where you could be doing other items. Paperhangers are another class of tradespeople who are a prepared resource of perform for the plaster repair service human being. Ahead of they can Creglists.Org, they require to clean out tough drywall and plaster surfaces initially. This typically entails implementing skim coats of drywall compound. They may possibly do it themselves, but quite a few don't like to do it. As a rule, a paperhanger would rather hang paper, not skim coat. Attaching one particular of the items of hardware or fastenings you are storing to the lid of its container makes it simple to know what is inside. Individuals usually practical experience group troubles when hoping to locate hardware that they want. Written labels will get clumped with each other. An uncomplicated way to adjust the seem of you property on the within is by painting, but employing wallpaper can give an fully diverse look. You should verify out all of the models and types offered, ahead of you dismiss the plan of receiving wallpaper. You need to be seeing what you are performing, while you are Creglists.Org, but it's not difficult to do. There can't be any grease or moisture on the walls and they need to be entirely clear. In advance of you in fact put up the wallpaper, you will need to use the adhesive and allow it dry. To retain the unattractive bubbles from exhibiting up, the smoother you can apply it the greater. If you want to transform the search of your home, but can't pay for significantly, wallpaper is one particular household improvement venture that is inexpensive and easy to do. If your home was created in the seventies or before, probabilities are fantastic that it was created with only a incredibly thin layer of insulation through the total construction. Preferably, the layer ought to be roughly 27 centimeters or ten.five inches thick. By raising the thickness of insulation to the advised 4 to 6 inches, you could simply help you save a couple of hundred pounds for each year. The relatives place is a fantastic location for your Wall Mural. The wall you chose is one most effortlessly viewed when coming into the room. Even better, it doesn't even have many electrical retailers on it. Acquiring by now ordered the Wall Mural, you are now wondering about the price of specialist set up. You want to preserve cash, proper? Exceptional. Properly then, invite a buddy about, roll up your sleeves and established apart a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. You can even keep the match on whilst you put in the Wall Mural your self! Very similar to preparation before installing wallpaper, installing your Wall Mural truly is not challenging.

[garkomedia1]

5 Eyeliner Hacks That Helped Me Nail a Perfect Cat-Eye

It’s no secret that I tend to have a little bit of trouble when it comes to crafting a cat-eye look. Usually I can manage to keep my hand still enough to draw a straight line across my eyelid, but when it comes to getting that end flick just right, it’s pretty much impossible. Despite my best efforts, my flicks either end up way too far from my lash line, or way thicker than intended (a la Amy Winehouse).

Thankfully, since we live in the internet age, I had no trouble finding online hacks that promised to help me perfect the flick once and for all. Many of the winged liner hacks I found were a little bizarre, but I found five that are definitely worth testing for yourself.

1. I used a business card for the perfect wing.

Cristina Cianci

As I definitely don’t hand out business cards as frequently as I should, there’s a stack that sits on my desk just waiting to be used. With their straight edges and sturdy construction, business cards make for a great assist on the journey to an expert-level wing. After trying this hack out, I realized that keeping business cards at the ready serve a dual purpose: 1. An easy way to network with new people, 2. A quick tool for drawing a super precise wing in a hurry.

The technique:

I freehanded a line across my top lid, then lined up a card next to the end of my lash line at angle where I’d want my actual cat-eye to be drawn. Next, I drew an upward stroke against the card that connected to the end of the line on my lid and voila!

2. Scotch tape was fast and effective.

Cristina Cianci

Cristina Cianci

I’ve seen this eyeliner hack a bunch of times while scrolling through beauty sites on the internet, but never attempted to try it until now. To be honest, I was always a little nervous to use tape near my eye area, but also a little curious about how precise my makeup would look if I did.

The technique:

I used two small pieces of tape—one on each eye—and lined each up at an angle next to my lash line. After drawing a line across my eyelids, I used the tape as an excuse to be as messy with my wings as needed (the tape acts as a barrier against any mistakes). Midway through I decided to use two pieces of tape per eye, one near the top lid and one angled at the bottom, filling in the space in between to make my cat-eye. And it worked. After (carefully) peeling off the tape, I have to say my cat-eye look was definitely fire.

3. Starting with dots near my eyelid helped to line up my wings just right.

Cristina Cianci

There have been countless times where I’ve successfully drawn a smooth flick just to look in the mirror and realize one side of my winged liner is higher than the other. With this hack, you start by drawing a dot next to each eye where you want the flick to end. That way you can make sure they look even before you draw the actual wing. It may seem super basic, but drawing these guideline marks really helped me to even out the height of each wing to ensure they were level.

The technique:

Before starting my normal eyeliner routine, I used the tip of my liner pen to draw one dot next to each eye where I wanted the end of each wing to go. I drew up from my lash line to each of the dots. Then, I drew a line across the top of my lid that also connected to each the dots, forming a sort of hollow triangle outline of the wings. Lastly, I filled in my outline to finish off the look.

4. Using a spoon was surprisingly helpful.

Cristina Cianci

I had never thought of using a spoon for winged liner, but after I watched a YouTube video where someone demonstrated the technique, I knew I had to try it. PSA: Using a spoon—I used a plastic one—is a total liquid eyeliner application game-changer. I wouldn’t quite say the process is easy, but it’s certainly effective.

The technique:

I lined up the spoon’s handle at the edge of my lashline and drew an outline of the bottom half of my wing. Next, I placed the spoon scoop side down on the top of my lid, and drew a line across my eye. It definitely felt awkward holding a spoon against my lid and applying liner, but after a while I got the hang of it. Since the section between the beginning of the spoon’s handle and the end of its bowl has a slight curve, it’s easy to follow it to a successful cat-eye. After drawing a line on the top of my lid, the spoon basically did the hard part for me by connecting it with the first line I drew next to my lashes. To finish the look I filled in my wing. The whole thing took all of three minutes.

5. The Vampstamp made achieving a cat-eye fast and simple.

Cristina Cianci

Created by the inventor of my beloved Beautyblender, the Vampstamp is a handy tool made specifically for winged eyeliner styles. All you need is a pot of liquid eyeliner to dip the tool in and a steady hand, and in five minutes or less you’ll have cat-eyes so good actual cats will probably be jealous.

The technique:

After drawing a line across the top of my eyelid I dipped the wing stamp in my eyeliner pot, then hovered near the edge of my lash line to line the tool up properly. Once I decided I liked where it was positioned, I stamped the tool near my eye, which created the curve of a flick. Lastly, I connected my initial line across my eye with the flick and repeated on the opposite side.

Source link

from RSSUnify feed https://hashtaghighways.com/2018/10/13/5-eyeliner-hacks-that-helped-me-nail-a-perfect-cat-eye/

[thesteveyates]

An Inanda projects post : thinking about the sail-handling and cockpit ergonomics.

Taking up the story of the delivery trip again Inanda is, as i write, moored in the river Frome at Wareham just outside Poole.  I have done one trip down to the boat to check her over and do the next round of ‘temporary’ jobs that i thought were essential before the long bash around Portland and across Lyme bay.             Although i will post my first attempt at woodwork repairs in another post a brief description for now is that i have made and fitted a ‘fashion-piece’ to replace the rotten section of coachroof at the awkward ‘break’ in the coachroof where one level joins another.        That turned into a larger and longer job as i ended up digging out a lot more soft wood from the cabin side and then both the beam shelf and the deck beam. It was also an ‘available parts technology’ job as the fashion-piece was made from another bit of boat that i had just removed.    However,  what that job really needs is for me to take the entire ‘lid’ off and replace the lower section of beam shelf and the deck beam completely (or scarph new sections in)  and then put a stronger (thicker) lid back on.  The alternative would be to completely rebuild the cabin sides and coachroof into a single level so that water runs off properly.  The second alternative is to take the whole cabin top off and rebuild it as a deck-edge design and thus gain more useful space inside.

The rotten section is just about visible from the inside here….in rain, water just runs straight through that complex joint and soaks that bunk.  I tried covering the outside of that whole joint with gaffer tape applied carefully but water always runs into that corner and finds its way along the wet joint.

Fashion-piece repair.

That whole larger project is a ‘sleepless nights’ and wakeful early morning planning sessions ones while i work out what all the problems and pitfalls might be.  At this stage i am thinking about a second stage coachroof repair once Inanda is home where i use it as a learning exercise to just make and replace existing parts. What i would do there is just take the lid off and replace/repair the soft bits.

The ‘Ergo’ part to the post is that the cockpit and companionway ergonomics (and sailing ergonomics) are generally poor and i would like to improve that to make her easier to work and more comfortable to sail.  As she is the main hatch is too short in the fore and aft plane because of that awkward stepped coachroof, such that moving in and out of the boat or standing in the galley, is uncomfortable.  A one piece coachroof with a longer and wider hatch would solve several problems.  An alternative approach would be to do the essential repair really well but at the same time actually raise the upper section of the coachroof to more like the profile of ‘Nomad’ which has become my gold-standard for this project.

Looks right to my eye.

This is the potential alternative design, a deck-edge cabin variant on another gaff-rigged Deben…so it has been done.  The obvious problems with this design are that the cabin inside is wider but lower (i am a tall bloke) and that going forward would be even more exposed.

Here is the current stepped coachroof design…water has to run into the angle of the step….the gaffer tape is covering the wet section. I have to do a serious repair one way or another and i keep looking at that coachroof shape and thinking that the raised section could go up a few inches.

The main focus of this post though is to start thinking about the cockpit re-design and rebuild because the cockpit is currently my worst ergonomic problem.  As it is the sail handling is difficult, there is no single place to sit and be comfortable while steering and the cockpit stowage just doesn’t work for what needs to be there.   Even more crucially the engine and it’s electrics are essentially exposed to salt and rainwater.  As part of the frames repair i will have to pull the cockpit apart anyway to get at some broken frames, it will be tempting although  maybe un-necasary to whip the engine out at the same time so that i can clean the bilge right out and re-paint. Having aligned one engine in the Frances 26 refit i basically know how to do that job and i know i have got to have a new fuel tank anyway. The cockpit area does have several problems that i want to attend to and i have already had to use valuable time to do temporary fixes.  On the trip so far i have had to repair the cockpit sole, rebuild the ineffective engine cover and i have already heaved the old galvanised water tank out from the port locker. This far though i have only had the time to do expedient repairs until i can make long term corrections.

There is a loose engine cover although i had to make battens to hold it in place and at the time i took this picture the cockpit sole, such as it is was creaking up and down…not connected to the central cross-bearing beam at all. The cross beam is actually either broken or it’s been cut and altered at some time.    The kind of new layout i am thinking about is a workboat style engine box and then fuel tank left (stbd) and battery’s right (port), and then a new higher cockpit sole right across the boat but no fixed seats.

As you can see from above the cockpit isn’t self-draining and the engine is vulnerable mainly to its electrics and salt water ingress but rain just runs over parts of the engine as well. The cockpit is also extremely awkward to work the boat being very narrow aft as you can see by Jackie’s feet.  The construction is poor too being based on some broken and odd-levelled deck beams and then essentially loose boards. The well sides are only T&G board nailed to some battens.      The great thing is that the whole structure would come out in less than an hours work and would be a nice project for my rehab time as i could make a complete mock-up in situ first.

There are essentially several problems to deal with.

Protecting the engine and dampening the sound.

Having a cockpit sole that allows me to stand and work properly.

Having somewhere to sit and steer when i have to hand-steer, at the moment i can’t sit comfortably anywhere except for perched on the coaming….not exactly comfortable but at least well braced.

Having somewhere to sit outside in good weather…the pit is just long enough for me to sit fore and aft with my back against the bulkhead and my legs stretched out.

I think that where i want to start is by making a proper engine box completely around the engine to protect it and contain it’s sound a bit.  That should be removeable such that i can work down on the engine and get to the current shaft greaser.    Next would be to fit a proper new fuel tank one side (stbd at the moment)  and a new battery box opposite although an alternative plan is to have the battery box just inside the companionway just as i did with the Frances.       For the working side i like the idea of then having a single level cockpit sole above that with none of the side box-work which are the current seats and cockpit stowage including the small fuel tank.  Initially i might have no cockpit seats at all and just plan to sit on the raised sole which is what i think the Pardey’s did with their first build.     I will have to improve the sail handling a lot in the cockpit as Inanda only has single sheets on cleats…zero winches and i need more control lines coming to the pit as well.

The battery box and ready tools box i made for the Frances 26 after i put the new engine in. Inanda doesn’t have quite the same width at this point and because i now prefer sealed AGM battery’s wouldn’t have to be as accessible so going in a decent box down near the engine might work and save me some cabin floor space.

Aft, the cockpit is so narrow and the tiller so short that when Inanda is carrying weather helm i can’t actually sit in the cockpit (aft) and steer…i have to either perch on the coaming edge (uncomfortable) or sit further forward which makes the arm-tiller angle really unpleasant. Sail handling, especially hauling in sheets is really difficult in that i have to lean right over the coaming too and can’t get a bracing foot where i need it.  Right now a simple and open cockpit sole is very appealing, i don’t know whether i can incorporate a draining cockpit floor unless i bring it quite high.   It might also pay to either reduce the cockpit coaming height a bit or have a ‘racing-seat’ arrangement such that i can essentially sit on the side deck to steer….i did that quite a bit during the trip with a folded sail cover as a bum-pad.

That awkward and leaky break in the coachroof and the short hatch.

With cockpit plan ‘A’ the eventual cockpit sole would i think be some 4 inches higher than where it is now.

The following photographs i have had to borrow and are of the much larger 28′ Taliesin and i think an Ed Burnett boat second but the cockpit design is where i might be headed.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Ergo 1 : cockpit. An Inanda projects post : thinking about the sail-handling and cockpit ergonomics. Taking up the story of the delivery trip again Inanda is, as i write, moored in the river Frome at Wareham just outside Poole. 

#boat project #cockpit design #Inanda

[rainieblack-blog]

if i asked, would you stay? [Chapter Two]

Here’s Chapter Two! 

“I would try to create a construct of him, an illusion for her, but Takara is impervious to my illusions now,” Mukuro says, idly swirling his wine glass. Lilith lounged opposite him on the sofa, is stretched out, her legs draped over the armrest of the sofa, and she hums in muted pride. Her hair, inky black, spills over the other armrest, and for a split second, a ludicrous, breathless moment, he is certain that the shadows reach out and play with the curling strands of her hair. He blinks, and the faint, ephemeral image is gone, but Mukuro still wonders, what are you?

If Mukuro hadn’t seen the proof of Lilith’s blazing storm flames, painfully pure and hungry in its intensity, as loyal to Takara as the foolish Gokudera is, he would have thought her to be an illusionist. It wasn’t the first time he, or any of the Guardians have doubted that she truly did not wield a dual flame with how often he has caught fleeting flickers in the space around her, the air distorted as if reality has ripped a jagged hole just for Lilith to pass through. Shadows worked differently for Lilith, bending around her like a lover would, as did sound.

“She is now, but she wasn’t always.” Lilith says in return, feathery lashes brushing against the gentle slope of her cheekbone. Her voice has gone low and contemplative, a sign that she has slipped into a meditative state. The last time he saw it, Takara was risking her life for the cursed Arcobaleno, most of which hadn’t even bothered to spare a more than a flippant thanks to his Decimo. That voice is savage, ruthless, and hungers for blood. It sends shivers down his spine.

“Yes,” Mukuro returns dryly, taking a small, appreciative sip of his wine before continuing, “you’ve trained her well.”

Lilith’s eyes flutter open, sharp gold irises, weren’t they always purple? focused intently on the patterns drawn into the ceiling. Mukuro faintly remembers Chrome stumbling upon the two,  her memories folding into his like the remembrance of an old song, Takara and Lilith, painting the ceiling full of constellations. Lilith and her too-old eyes lock with Chrome’s and at that moment, an indescribable feeling wells in his Nagi’s, chest, but he pushes that memory from his mind as soon as he catches a glimpse of her eyes, striking eyes so similar to his Sky’s own, hazing over in thought.

“She’s prepared now, to face him.” Lilith murmurs, diverting the topic to what they were previously discussing with ease, and her piercing eyes slide over to meet his half-lidded eyes.

A lesser man would falter at the fear-inducing gaze of the unflappable woman, but Mukuro has seen the same infallible woman break down when Takara’s cavort with death turned from shy gazes shared across the ballroom to an intimate tango across the floor, and it doesn’t work as well as she might have liked for it to be.

“For Takara, what would you do?” Mukuro asks quietly, for though he already knows the answer, he and all the others do, as his Sky’s guardian, he needs to hear her promise.

Without missing a beat, Lilith responds with the exact same thing she has told Iemitsu all those years ago,

(what she has promised all of them for every single lifetime)

“For Takara, anything.”

Lilith stands in the shadows of the pillars, content with watching over her student, as she had all those years ago. Her inky hair,  too pale skin and violet eyes always too old and tired for her age chase everyone away like they have always, always, have.

She has always shouldered the responsibility of her Sky’s safety, most often than not, she has done it alone. Now,  in this lifetime, Takara’s guardians accompany her.

Kyoya, the  ever distant, ever aloof Cloud, lurks amongst the perimeters of the building with his Disciplinary Committee. He is as vigilant as ever, and though he is far enough from the ballroom to ignore the crowds, he is near enough to keep an eye on his Sky.

Ryohei, silent, stands uncharacteristically still behind her, his body coiled with loose awareness, primed for a burst of instantaneous movement. His neatly pressed suit is ever at odds with the tape that winds proudly around his calloused knuckles, a token from his childhood. His eyes are sharp and flinty, and they linger on those who leer perversely at Takara with a dangerous light.

Perched on the highest railings, his sharp, verdant eyes flitting from one guest to the other, Hayato’s lit cigarette dangles roguishly from his lips, and he casually huffs out an occasional puff of smoke, even as he idly juggles the explosives held carelessly in his hands. He too has his gaze lingering on those who sought Takara’s downfall with disparaging acidity, only Hayato’s is considerably more calculative. This was a Storm who would do more than just destroy those who stood against his Sky. This was a Storm who would drag out their deaths, make them hurt and beg for mercy. This was a Storm who put the fear of God, the fear of loyalty to those who stood against his Sky.

Mukuro, draped in one of his illusions, hangs off Dino’s arm, his features eerily similar to Takara’s, from the slant of his eyes to the delicate line of his neck. They are everything Lilith knows stares back at her in the mirror, all hinting at who he has modelled his illusion after. The resemblance is not so similar to cause any suspicion, however, and Lilith has taught him well enough to know that his presence goes unnoticed by the Dons’, Donnas’, hitmen and the like, who are casually milling about, some of them accompanied with their guardians. All of which, Likith notes, warmth blossoming in her chest, possess flames that are nothing but embers compared to the blazing beacons that were the  Vongola’s Tenth Generation.

Yamamoto is the only one who isn’t in the shadows, and he trails Takara’s every step. His smile is kind and sharp, tempered with a deadly edge, and it promises the threats that he would gladly carry out if they stepped too close.

All of them make up a picture-perfect image of faithful guardians. They’ve grown, so much. If Lilith left now, Takara would be able to take care of herself and those she loved. Her job should have been done two years ago, the moment Takara bested her, but she had stayed. She wanted to stay. Lilith didn’t want to see Takara survive, she wanted to see her live. Truly, happily, with no regrets.

She knew that he would not be attending today, but soon, the time would come. Lilith would enjoy seeing him grovel of Takara’s forgiveness, but for now, she backed deeper into the shadow of a pillar and watched.

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #reborn #R27 #Fem Tsuna #Female Tsuna